midnight
East and southeast winds brought fog and mild rains , the ice rotted along the land-wash and the snow dwindled from the barrens and left dripping hummocks and patches of black bog exposed . The wreck in Nolan 's Cove had gone to pieces during the blizzard , sunk its cargo of pianos , manufactured cotton and hardware in six fathoms of water and flung a liberal proportion of its spars and timbers ashore . Black Dennis Nolan felt as sure that Jack Quinn had perished in the storm as if he had seen him prone and stiff under the drifting snow . The fool had left the harbor that night , sometime before the onslaught of the blizzard , but after midnight to a certainty . He had gone out -- and he had not returned ! There could be no doubt about his miserable fate . The skipper pictured him in his clear mind as lying somewhere out on the barrens with the red-bound casket clutched in a frozen hand .