eleven o'clock
Humbugging about with stunsails to the cat 's - paws little pleased the men , especially at night . For three days they had been boxhauling the yards about to no purpose , and it was sickening work running stunsail-booms out to airs that died in their struggles to reach us . However , here was a draught at last , and the old gurgling and moaning sounds of the breathless , sluggish swell washing heavily like liquid lead to the sides were replaced by the tinkling noises of waters parting at the bows with a pretty little seething of expiring foam , and the hiss of exploding froth-bells . At eleven o'clock the light breeze was still holding , and the ship was floating softly through the dusk , the paring of moon swaying like a silver sickle over the port mizzen topsail yard-arm , everything quiet along the decks , no light save the sheen from the lamps in the binnacle , and nothing stirring but the figure of a man on the forecastle pacing athwartships , and blotting out at every step a handful of the stars which lay like dust on the blackness , under the yawn of the forecourse . On a sudden a steamer 's lights showed on the starboard bow -- a green beam , and a yellow one above , with the water on fire beneath them , and sparks floating away upon her coil of smoke , that made you think of the spangles of a falling rocket . She went past swiftly , at no great distance from us . There was not a moan in the hot breeze to disturb the wonderful ocean stillness , and you almost thought you caught the beating of the iron heart in her , and the curious monotonous songs which engines sing as they work .