ten o'clock
To lay her head to the sea was impracticable-an attempt to `` lay-to '' under the little sail would be madness ; onward she rode , hurrying to an inevitable fate . Away she swept through the white crests , as the wind murmured and the sea roared , and the anxious countenance of the mate , still guiding the craft with a steady hand , seemed masked in watchfulness . His hand remained firm to the helm , his eyes peered into the black prospect ahead : but not a word did he utter . It was near ten o'clock , when a noise as of thunder rolling in the distance , and re-echoing in booming accents , broke fearfully upon their ears . The sea , every moment threatening to engulph the little craft , to sweep its freight of human beings into eternity , and to seal for ever all traces of their fate , was now the lesser enemy . Not a word had escaped the lips of a being on board for several minutes ; all seemed resigned to whatever fate Providence awarded . `` The beach roars , Mr. Slade - '' The mate interrupted before the seaman in the sheets had time to finish his sentence : `` I have not been deaf to the breakers ; but there is no hope for us but upon the beach ; and may heaven save us there !