twelve o'clock
The barque 's sails still hang tattered from the spars , for they have since encountered other winds , and had neither the time nor strength to clear them . But they have contrived to patch up the foresail , and bend on a new jib from some spare canvas found in the stores . With these she is making way at the rate of some five or six knots to the hour , her head East and by South . It is twelve o'clock mid-day , and Grummet is at the wheel ; the officers on the quarter ; Crozier , sextant in hand , `` shooting the sun . '' They have long since given up hope of finding the frigate , or being found by her at sea . Aware of this , they are steering the crippled vessel towards Panama in hope of their coming across her . In any case , that is the port where they will be most likely to get tidings of her .