The landlord volunteered the information that the letter his guest had been writing must be posted early the next morning if it was going south; as the mails in that direction only left Newcastle every other day.
All night long Hepburn wearied himself with passionate tossings, prompted by stinging recollection.

Towards morning he fell into a dead sound sleep.

He was roused by a hasty knocking at the door.

It was broad full daylight; he had overslept himself, and the smack was leaving by the early tide.

He was even now summoned on board.