midnight
Not that he has much to do as he lies there on his six-foot deck that narrows away so sharply to the stern . He has taken a hitch round the heavy tiller with the slack of the main sheet to keep it off the side of his head while he eats . There is no current , and there is not a breath of air . By and by , before midnight , you will smell the soft land breeze blowing in puffs out of every little bay and indentation . There is no order needed . The men silently brace the yards and change the sheets over . The small jib is already bent in place of the big one , for the night is dark and some of those smart puffs will soon be like little squalls .