midnight
As the time wore on , my senses became clearer , and I saw that we were travelling along the seaside . The faint gray light of breaking day shed a cold gleam across the green water , which plashed with a mournful cadence on the low , flat shore . I watched the waves as they beat with a heavy sough amid the scattered weeds , where the wild cry of the curlew mingled with the sound as he skimmed along the gloomy water , and my heart grew heavier . There is something -- I know not what -- terribly in unison with our saddest thoughts , in the dull plash of the sea at night : the loudest thunders of the storm , when white-crested waves rise high and break in ten thousand eddies on the dark rocks , are not so suggestive of melancholy as the sighing moan of the midnight tide . Long-buried griefs , long-forgotten sorrows , rise up as we listen ; and we feel as though that wailing cry were the funeral chant over cherished hopes and treasured aspirations . From my dark musings I was roused suddenly by Darby 's voice , asking of the men who sat at the opposite side how the wind was . `` Westing by south , '' replied one ; `` as fair as need be , if there was enough of it .