midnight
The sails of the _ Sylph _ caught the ruddy tinge like a phantom craft gliding through the black night , its canvas still dyed with the sunset glow . The faces of the crew , turned to watch the spectacle , curiously fixed and inhuman , were picked out of the gloom by the same fantastic light . It was as if the schooner , with masts and riggings , etched black against the lurid sky , sailed on into the Day of Judgment . It was after midnight . The _ Sylph _ came about , with sails trembling , and lost headway . Suddenly she vibrated from stem to stern , and with a soft grating sound that was unmistakable came to rest . We were aground in what should have been clear water , with the forest-clad shore of Muloa lying close off to port .