midnight
Hoar Head is the highest of that line of cliffs , which stretches twenty miles from Weymouth to St. Alban 's Head , and it stands up eighty fathoms or more above the water . The seaward side is a great sheer of chalk , but falls not straight into the sea , for three parts down there is a lower ledge or terrace , called the under-cliff . 'T was to this ledge that we were bound ; and though we were now straight above , I knew we had a mile or more to go before we could get down to it . So on we went again , and found the bridle-path that slopes down through a deep dip in the cliff line ; and when we reached this under-ledge , I looked up at the sky , the night being clear , and guessed by the stars that 't was past midnight . I knew the place from having once been there for blackberries ; for the brambles on the under-cliff being sheltered every way but south , and open to the sun , grow the finest in all those parts . We were not alone , for I could make out a score of men , some standing in groups , some resting on the ground , and the dark shapes of the pack-horses showing larger in the dimness . There were a few words of greeting muttered in deep voices , and then all was still , so that one heard the browsing horses trying to crop something off the turf .