seven minutes to one o'clock in the morning
Towards midnight , however , it disappeared , or , to use a more appropriate term , it `` died out '' like a large glow-worm . Had it fled ? One could only fear , not hope it . But at seven minutes to one o'clock in the morning a deafening whistling was heard , like that produced by a body of water rushing with great violence . The captain , Ned Land , and I were then on the poop , eagerly peering through the profound darkness . `` Ned Land , '' asked the commander , `` you have often heard the roaring of whales ? '' `` Often , sir ; but never such whales the sight of which brought me in two thousand dollars .