one hour after midnight
On the light from the sashed door of the house being observed , a halloo from the vessel of ` Ware hawk ! Douse the glim ! ' alarmed those who were on shore , and the lights instantly disappeared . It was one hour after midnight , and the prospect around was lovely . The grey old towers of the ruin , partly entire , partly broken , here bearing the rusty weather-stains of ages , and there partially mantled with ivy , stretched along the verge of the dark rock which rose on Mannering 's right hand . In his front was the quiet bay , whose little waves , crisping and sparkling to the moonbeams , rolled successively along its surface , and dashed with a soft and murmuring ripple against the silvery beach . To the left the woods advanced far into the ocean , waving in the moonlight along ground of an undulating and varied form , and presenting those varieties of light and shade , and that interesting combination of glade and thicket , upon which the eye delights to rest , charmed with what it sees , yet curious to pierce still deeper into the intricacies of the woodland scenery .