nine in the morning
It was at eleven this morning that the Plate gave us a fiasco . Last night 's was a real pampero -- though a mild one . To-day 's promised to be a far worse one , and then laughed at us as a proper cosmic joke . The wind , during the night , had so eased that by nine in the morning we had all our topgallant-sails set . By ten we were rolling in a dead calm . By eleven the stuff began making up ominously in the south ` ard . The overcast sky closed down .