about seven in the evening
`` Sailor 's granddaughter . One of the old school . Old sea-dog of the best kind , I believe , '' ejaculated the captain , swinging past his motionless second officer and leaving the words behind him like a trail of sparks succeeded by a perfect conversational darkness , because , for the next two hours till he left the deck , he did n't open his lips again . On another occasion ... we must n't forget that the ship had crossed the line and was adding up south latitude every day by then ... on another occasion , about seven in the evening , Powell on duty , heard his name uttered softly in the companion . The captain was on the stairs , thin - faced , his eyes sunk , on his arm a Shetland wool wrap . `` Mr. Powell -- here . '' `` Yes , sir . ''