five o'clock
But day after day the sea between us was rough , and the westerly breeze blew across the Atlantic , driving the waves before it . There was no steamer going across , and Captain Carey 's yacht could not brave the winds . I began to be afraid that Martin and I would not visit the place , which of all others in this half of the world was dearest to me . `` To-morrow , '' said Martin one night , after scanning the sunset , the sky , and the storm-glass , `` if you can be up at five o'clock , we will cross to Sark . '' I was up at four , in the first gray dawn of a September morning . We had the yacht to ourselves , for Captain Carey declined running the risk of being weather-bound on the island -- a risk which we were willing to chance . The Havre Gosselin was still in morning shadow when we ran into it ; but the water between us and Guernsey was sparkling and dancing in the early light , as we slowly climbed the rough path of the cliff .