ten o'clock
What a vile thing the man was ! He had had the effrontery to sign his name . He must be punished . It was as late as ten o'clock when she and Warrington went up to the bow and gazed down the cut-water . Never had she seen anything so weirdly beautiful as the ribbons of phosphorescence which fell away on each side , luminously blue and flaked with dancing starlike particles , through which , ever and anon , flying-fish , dripping with the fire , spun outward like tongues of flame . `` Beautiful , beautiful ! This is the one spot on the ship .