midnight
Late summer regularly furnishes one of those storms to the Atlantic coast , a recrudescence of the wintry gales , a trial run of the elements , a sort of inter-equinoctial testing out so that Eurus may be sure that his bellows is in working condition . Such a storm rarely gives warning ahead that it is to be severe . It seems to be a meteorological prank in order to catch mariners napping . At midnight the _ Alden _ was plunging into creaming seas , her five masts thrummed by the blast . With five thousand tons of coal weighting her , she wallowed like a water-soaked log . Mayo , who was roused from his hideous agony of soul at four bells , morning , to go on deck for his watch , ventured as near the engine-room door as he dared , for the rain was soaking his meager garments and the red glow from within was grateful . The ship 's pump was clanking , a circumstance in no way alarming , because the huge schooners of the coal trade are racked and wrenched in rough water .