though small sharp, cold needles were being
thrust into them. His eyes smarted from having gazed too long into the
darkness out of which he expected to see someone rise up and cry out:
"Stop thieves!"

When Tchelkache murmured: "the custom-house!" Gavrilo started: he was
consumed by a sharp, burning thought; his nerves were wrought up to the
highest pitch; he wanted to cry out, to call for help, he had already
opened his mouth and straightened himself up on the seat. He thrust
forward his chest, drew a long breath, and again opened his mouth; but
suddenly, overcome by sharp fear, he closed his eyes and fell from his
seat.

Ahead of the boat, far off on the horizon, an immense, flaming blue
sword sprang up from the black water. It rose, cleaved the darkness;
its blade flashed across the clouds and illumined the surface of the
sea with a broad blue hand. In this luminous ray stood out the black,
silent ships, hitherto invisible. It seemed as though they had been
waiting at the bottom of the sea, whither they had been dragged by an
irresistible tempest, and that now they arose in obedience to the sword
of fire to which the sea had given birth. They had ascended to
contemplate the sky and all that was above the water. The rigging
clinging to the mast seemed like seaweed that had left the water with
these black giants, covering them with their meshes. Then the
wonderful blue sword again arose in the air, cleaved the night and
descended in a different place. Again, on the spot where it rested,
appeared the skeletons of ships until then invisible.

Tchelkache's boat stopped and rocked on the water as though hesitating.
Gavrilo lay flat on the bottom of the boat, covering his face with his
hands, and Tchelkache prodded him with his oar, hissing furiously, but
quite low.

"Idiot, that's the custom-house cruiser. The electric lantern! Get
up, row with all your might! They'll throw the light upon us! You'll
ruin us, devil, both of us!"

When the sharp edge of the oar had been brought down once more, harder
this time, on Gavrilo's back, he arose and, not daring to open his
eyes, resumed his seat and feeling for the oars, sent the boat ahead.

"Softly, or I'll kill you! Softly! Imbecile, may the devil take you!
What are you afraid of? Say? A lantern and a mirror. That's all!
Softly with those oars, miserable wretch! They incline the mirror at
will and light the sea to find out if any folks like us are rovi