seven in the morning
By half-past seven in the morning , the ship being then inside the harbour at last and moored within a long stone 's - throw from the quay , my stock of philosophy was nearly exhausted . I was dressing hurriedly in my cabin when the steward came tripping in with a morning suit over his arm . Hungry , tired , and depressed , with my head engaged inside a white shirt irritatingly stuck together by too much starch , I desired him peevishly to `` heave round with that breakfast . '' I wanted to get ashore as soon as possible .