Upon this the Great Being, whose heart ached as he foresaw the calamity which was about to befall the merchants, heaved a long and deep sigh, and said in a low tone:
21. 'You have gone too far. It will be hard to return from hence. This sea, the Nalamâlin [= wearing reed-garlands[120]], is well-nigh at the end of the world.'
When they heard that answer, the poor merchants were utterly afflicted. Their minds lost their energy, their limbs became powerless, and sitting down in dull sadness, they did nothing but sigh. And after crossing that sea too, in the afternoon, when the Sun with his slackening circle of rays seemed to be about to enter the Ocean, a confused and tremendous noise, piercing both the ears and the hearts of the merchants, became audible. This noise rising from the sea may be compared to that of a sea swelling in rage, or of many thunderclaps together, or of bamboo-groves having caught fire and crackling. On hearing it, they suddenly jumped from their seats, trembling with fear and highly agitated, and examining the ocean all around, perceived that immense mass of water falling down as if over some precipice or chasm. That alarming sight filled them with the utmost fear, sadness, and dejection. They went to Supâraga, saying:
22. 'We hear a tremendous noise from afar, almost piercing our ears and crushing our minds, as if the Lord of the Rivers were angry, and this whole mass of ocean-water falls down, it seems, into an awful abyss. Say, then, what sea is that, and what do you think is best to be done now?'
Then the Great Being, agitated, said: 'Alas! alas!' and looking down over the sea, he spoke:
23. 'You have come to that dreadful place, from which no one returns, that mouth-like entrance of Death, the famous Mare-mouth[121].'
On hearing this the poor merchants, understanding that having reached the Mare-mouth, they must give up all hope of life, were distressed by the fear of death.
24-26. Some of them wept aloud or lamented and cried out. Others did nothing at all, being torpid from anxiety. Some with sorrow-stricken minds worshipped the deities, especially the Lord of the Devas, others resorted to the Âdityas, the Rudras, the Maruts, the Vasus, and to Sâgara himself [the Ocean]. Others again muttered various prayers, and there were those who paid in due form homage to Devi. Some again went to Supâraga, and in various modes and ways lamented piteously.
27-29. 'Practised in the virtue of compassionateness for others, you are in the habit of relieving from fear those who are in distress. Now the time has arrived for employing that excessive power of yours. Resolve, then, O wise man, upon rescuing us, the distressed, the helpless, who have taken our refuge in you. The Ocean in his wrath is now about to swallow us with his Mare-mouth, like a mouthful of food. It does not become you to neglect this poor crew perishing in the rolling waves. The great Ocean obeys your orders. Therefore, put a stop to his rage.'
But the Great Being felt his heart oppressed with great compassion and spoke thus, comforting the poor merchants: 'There is still an expedient to rescue us even now. It occurs to my mind. Why, I will make use of it. But you must show courage for a moment.' Now, when the merchants heard this, the hope that there was still some remedy, after all, revived their courage, and fixing their whole attention upon him, they became silent. But Supâraga, the Bodhisattva, after throwing his upper-garment on one shoulder and bending his right knee on the ship's deck[122], made his veneration to the Tathâgatas, having his whole heart absorbed by that deed of devotion; after which he thus addressed the company: 'Be you, honourable sea-traders, and you, different gods, who have your dwelling in the sky, my witnesses.