five o'clock
So she sat forlornly on the fore-hatch , waiting there until he might leave his post , reviewing all the bizarre procession of events since she climbed an elm-tree in the garden of Linden House on a Sunday afternoon now so remote that it seemed to be the very beginning of life . The adventures to which that elm-tree conducted her were oddly reminiscent of the story of Jack and the Beanstalk . For once , the true had outrivaled the fabulous . The steamer crept on lazily , and Iris fancied the hour must be nearer five o'clock than two when she heard Hozier 's voice ring out clearly : `` Buoy on the port bow ! '' There was a movement among the dim figures on the bridge . A minute later Hozier cried again : `` Buoy on the starboard bow ! '' She understood then that they were in a marked channel .