about a quarter past eleven
_ It was a dirty , squally night , not very cold , for the wind still hung in the S.S.W. -- an off-shore wind on this coast , causing no appreciable sea on the shoal spaces we were traversing . In the matter of our bearings , I set myself doggedly to overcome that paralysing perplexity , always induced in me by night or fog in these intricate waters ; and , by screwing round and round , succeeded so far as to discover and identify two flashing lights -- one alternately red and white , far and faint astern ; the other right ahead and rather stronger , giving white flashes only . The first and least familiar was , I made out , from the lighthouse on Wangeroog ; the second , well known to me as our beacon star in the race from Memmert , was the light on the centre of Norderney Island , about ten miles away . I had no accurate idea of the time , for I could not see my watch , but I thought we must have started about a quarter past eleven . We were travelling fast , the funnel belching out smoke and the bow-wave curling high ; for the tug appeared to be a powerful little craft , and her load was comparatively light . So much for the general situation . As for my own predicament , I was in no mood to brood on the hazards of this mad adventure , a hundredfold more hazardous than my fog-smothered eavesdropping at Memmert .