noon
Now and again we cast the lead , and it was something to see the Channel bottom -- grains of sand , broken shell-pebbles -- brought up on the arming . Fog or no fog , we were , at least , dunting the ` blue pigeon ' on English ground , and we felt , as day wore on and the fog thinned and turned to mist and rain , that a landfall was not yet beyond hope . A change of weather was coming , a change that neither the Old Man nor the Mate liked , to judge by their frequent visits to the barometers . At noon the wind hauled into the sou ' - west and freshened , white tops curled out of the mist and broke in a splutter of foam under the quarter , Channel gulls came screaming and circling high o'er our heads -- a sure sign of windy weather . A gale was in the making ; a rushing westerly gale , to clear the Channel and blow the fog-rack inland . `` I do n't like the looks o ' this , Mister . '' The Old Man was growing anxious ; we had seen nothing , had heard nothing to make us confident of our reckoning .