midnight
Keep Neuerk light right astern of you . ' We set off with a long , stooping stride in the teeth of the wind , and straight towards the roar of the breakers on the farther side of the sand . A line of Matthew Arnold 's , ` The naked shingles of the world , ' was running in my head . ` Seven miles from land , ' I thought , ` scuttling like sea-birds on a transient islet of sand , encircled by rushing tides and hammered by ocean , at midnight in a rising gale -- cut off even from our one dubious refuge . ' It was the time , if ever , to conquer weakness . A mad gaiety surged through me as I drank the wind and pressed forward . It seemed but a minute or two and Davies clutched me .