noon
It 's these beastly coast fogs that come in without warning and absolutely bury you . If the wind shifts , then your compass is the only salvation . '' Manson was silent , for he was only a passenger , and as his friend 's guest , he felt it unwise to offer any suggestion . `` We are all right , '' continued Frank , scanning the horizon , `` so long as the wind holds this way , for we can beat up to the island by noon , and have a fair run back . '' Manson was in no mood for talking , for the strange strain of reflections that had come to him the night before still oppressed him and he silently watched the little island ahead growing nearer . When they were within a mile of it , the wind began to drop away and by the time they could see the many rocks that surrounded it , rising like black fangs out of the white froth of the wave wash , it died out entirely . Frank looked anxious .