nearly midnight
An old friend had been destroyed ; they mourned for her , though they themselves had assisted in her destruction . War , and what war produces , is at the best very horrid work . I can not , even now , think over all the havoc and destruction we , as was our duty , were the means of producing , without feelings of regret and shame . It was nearly midnight when I got back to my craft . The signal was soon afterwards made to weigh anchor , when we made sail towards the mouth of the harbour . There had been a stiffish breeze all the time we had been engaged in the destruction of the Syren , but it had not come on to blow very hard , and the night was extremely dark . The schooner 's head was off shore , and , overcome with fatigue , I had just thrown myself on a locker , with my clothes on , to snatch a few moments ' sleep , when Tom Rockets roused me up with the information that a strange sail was crossing our bows .