noon
`` No ! Sure they ai n't ! '' In the dark of the morning a dense fog had closed around us , shutting in our horizon when we had most need of a clear outlook . We had expected to sight the Lizard before dawn to pick up a Falmouth pilot at noon , to be anchored in the Roads by nightfall -- we had it all planned out , even to the man who was to stand the first anchor-watch -- and now , before the friendly gleam of the Lizard Lights had reached us , was fog -- damp , chilling , dispiriting , a pall of white , clammy vapour that no cunning of seamanship could avail against . Denser it grew , that deep , terrifying wall that shut us off , shipmate from shipmate . Overhead , only the black shadow of the lower sails loomed up ; forward , the ship was shrouded ghostly , unreal . Trailing wreaths of vapour passed before and about the side-lamps , throwing back their glare in mockery of the useless rays .