three in the afternoon
The lurid coppery glow had vanished , and the sky thickened and lowered until the darkness was as that of a late twilight . David Grief , who well knew the hurricane rules , nevertheless reread the `` Laws of Storms , '' screwing his eyes in the faint light in order to see the print . There was nothing to be done save wait for the wind , so that he might know how he lay in relation to the fast-flying and deadly centre that from somewhere was approaching out of the gloom . It was three in the afternoon , and the glass had sunk to 29:45 , when the wind came . They could see it on the water , darkening the face of the sea , crisping tiny whitecaps as it rushed along . It was merely a stiff breeze , and the _ Uncle Toby _ , filling away under her storm canvas till the wind was abeam , sloshed along at a four-knot gait . `` No weight to that , '' Snow sneered .