four o'clock
The prayer was not , perhaps , intelligent ; but He who searches the hearts would rightly appraise those words , `` I 've been a bad ` un . '' Ferrier felt lightened , and he shook hands with Larmor before they once more faced the war of the night . The fire was out , it was bitter chill , yet hope was left -- a faint sparkle -- but still a stay for the soul of the tempest-tossed men . The climax of the breeze seemed approaching at four o'clock ; and , as Larmor said , `` it could n't be very much worse . '' The skipper was then hanging as he best could to the mizen rigging ; Lewis had his arms tightly locked on the port side round the futtock shrouds , and was cowering to get clear of the scourging wind . There was a wild shriek forward . `` Water , skipper ! ''