The Ocean by Leonid Andreyev

"These are your comrades, Haggart? I am so glad to see them. You said, Gart, yes -- you said that their faces were entirely different from the faces of our people, and that is true. Oh, how true it is! Our people have handsome faces, too -- don't think our fishermen are ugly, but they haven't these deep, terrible scars. I like them very much, I assure you, Gart. I suppose you are a friend of Haggart's -- you have such stern, fine eyes? But you are silent? Why are they silent, Haggart; did you forbid them to speak? And why are you silent yourself, Haggart? Haggart!"

Illuminated by the light of torches, Haggart stands and listens to the rapid, agitated speech. The metal of the guns and the uniforms vibrates and flashes; the light is also playing on the faces of those who have surrounded Haggart in a close circle -- these are his nearest, his friends. And in the distance there is a different game -- there a large ship is dancing silently, casting its light upon the black waves, and the black water plays with them, pleating them like a braid, extinguishing them and kindling them again.