about six o'clock in the morning
We lay right in her path , but with tin horns and a wild Indian yell from the versatile Lanky managed to make ourselves heard , and the mysterious stranger disappeared in the fog as suddenly as she had come , and we were once more alone in the darkness . The night wore slowly away , and we made out to catch a few hours ' sleep , standing `` watch and watch '' with each other of our slender crew . Day dawned again , and we broke our fast with the last of the Marathon 's biscuit , having `` broken cargo '' to eke out our cold repast with some of the Bolinas butter and eggs which we were taking to a most unexpected market . Suddenly , about six o'clock in the morning , we heard the sound of breakers ahead , and above the sullen roar of the surf I distinctly heard the tinklings of a bell . We got out our sweeps and had commenced to row wearily once more , when the fog lifted and before us lay the blessed land . A high range of sparsely wooded hills , crowned with rocky ledges , and with abrupt slopes covered with dry brown grass , running to the water 's edge , formed the background of the picture . Nearer , a tongue of high land , brushy and rocky , made out from the main shore , and curving southward , formed a shelter to what seemed a harbor within .