Creaking, the wood bends.
Snapping, the sail pulls.
The stars watch as vain little toys strive against the ink of the sea.
The waters slap softly against the wood.
Whispering, the wind dances about the riggings over the waves and under the lines.
In a seemingly endless abyss of night and sea the ships glide quietly, as if forever they will be drifting.
Their destination lies ahead, but until dawn, the ships will ride the night.