eleven o'clock
Once more we are `` cleared for sea . '' In an hour 's time the tug _ Implacable _ , mingling her frenzied little yelp with our deeper note , will pull us out into the middle of the dock , then round , and slowly through the big gates , into the locks . The hatches are already on the after combings , and sailors are spreading the tarpaulin covers over them and battening down with the big wood wedges . `` Steam for eleven o'clock , '' said the Chief last night . Right ! The gauges are trembling over the 150 mark now -- enough to get away with . `` Open everything out , Mr. McAlnwick , '' says the Second as he strolls round for a last look before going on deck .