eleven o'clock
How long ago it seemed ! ... Another sign that the Sybarite had entered what are technically classified as inland waters , where special rules of the road apply , was to be remarked in the fact that the fog signal was now roaring once each minute , whereas Lanyard had grown accustomed to timing the intervals between the sounding of the ship 's bell , upon which all his interest hung , at the rate of fifteen blasts to the half hour . If you asked him , once a minute seemed rather too much of a good thing , even in busy lanes of sea traffic . Still , it was better perhaps than unpremeditated disaster ; one was not keen about having the Sybarite ground on a sandbank , pile up on a rock , or dash her brains out against the bulk of another vessel -- before eleven o'clock at earliest . In retrospect he counted those two hours between dinner and ten-thirty longer than the fortnight which had prefaced them . So is the heart of man ever impatient when the journey 's - end draws near , though that end be but the beginning , as well , of that longer journey which men call Death . Lest he betray his impatience by keeping the tips of his cigarette too bright -LRB- one never knows when one is not watched -RRB- he smoked sparingly .