twelve o'clock
I said . `` U 'm come , rum ! '' was his laconic rejoinder -- nothing more , but the sentence was sufficiently expressive . Every day of the week , with the exception of Sundays , it had been always Pompey 's privilege to have a quartern of rum served out to him , as if he were on board ship , at twelve o'clock , the ordinary grog-time ; and , punctually at that hour every day , in the wet season or dry , he never failed to come up to the house for his allowance , bringing with him the footless wine-glass to receive the grateful liquor . His appearance , consequently , was an unfailing token that the sun had crossed the zenith and that it was time to `` make it eight bells . '' Unlike the majority of his dark-complexioned brethren , who are generally loquacious in the extreme , Pompey was singularly reticent of speech , never varying this parrot-like formula of his when coming at twelve o'clock for his daily stimulant , without which he would never set about his afternoon work . `` U 'm come , rum ! ''