six o'clock
Curious , was n't it ? That 's just what I thought . I turned to old Croasan . He lay in his bunk just as he had come off watch at six o'clock , his dungarees shining with grease , his tattooed arms grey with dirt . He looked eighty years old as he lay there with his bald head against the bottle rack , the pouches under his eyes marking dark shadows on his creased cheeks . I shook him , and he opened his eyes for a second . I hardly knew what I was doing , I was so crazy with sickness and bruises and incessant toil .