midnight
There it is . Take a good look at it . You 'll never see it again . '' The steamer `` Santiago , '' carrying `` passengers , bullion , and coffee , '' was headed to pass Porto Rico by midnight , when she would be free of land until she anchored at the quarantine station of the green hills of Staten Island . She had not yet shaken off the contamination of the earth ; a soft inland breeze still tantalized her with odors of tree and soil , the smell of the fresh coat of paint that had followed her coaling rose from her sides , and the odor of spilt coffee-grains that hung around the hatches had yet to be blown away by a jealous ocean breeze , or washed by a welcoming cross sea . The captain stopped at the open entrance of the Social Hall . `` If any of you ladies want to take your last look at Olancho you 've got to come now , '' he said .