midnight
And so _ our _ decorations must needs wait till we reach port , when the holds are in travail and the winches scream out their agony to the bare brown hills beyond the town and mingle with the deep , dull roar of the surf on the barrier reef . And now let me describe my day at sea , as well as I am able . Different indeed from those I was wont to spend at home . No delicious hours in our pet hostelries ; no Sundays with music and an open window looking out upon the river ; no rollicking evenings in some dear old tumble-down studio ; no midnight rambles towards home down the Fulham Road , where the ghostly women walk ; no cosy talks round the fire when the fog lies white against the glass , while the candle-light glows on the tall , warm rose-wood book-case , and all is well with us . Nay , as eight-bells strikes ting-ting-ting-ting-ting-ting-ting-ting , and the hands of the clocks point to twelve midnight , I awake . Ten minutes before , George the Fourth , of whom I may tell more anon , switches on the light and punches me in the ribs . I turn over to sleep again , while he rummages in his berth for soap , towel , and clean shirt , and goes below .