midnight
And now he is midway between the islands and the coast . That little toy of a boat with its one occupant in the midst of the awful , black , heaving sea ! The vast dim ocean whispers with a thousand waves ; against the boat 's side the ripples lightly tap , and pass and are lost ; the air is full of fine , mysterious voices of winds and waters . Has he no fear , alone there on the midnight sea with such a purpose in his heart ? The moonlight sends a long , golden track across the waves ; it touches his dark face and figure , it glitters on his dripping oars . On his right hand Boone Island light shows like a setting star on the horizon , low on his left the two beacons twinkle off Newburyport , at the mouth of the Merrimack River ; all the light-houses stand watching along the coast , wheeling their long , slender shafts of radiance as if pointing at this black atom creeping over the face of the planet with such colossal evil in his heart . Before him glitters the Shoals ' light at White Island , and helps to guide him to his prey .