"Dispute me not, else wilt thou tempt me to cast thee into the sea. I speak the truth."
"I believe not."
"Hath any man bidden thee believe? Get thee hence."
During the day, the crew commanded by Peter cast their nets, but after each casting drew them in empty and when the sun had neared the distant water line, they were yet toiling. A drowsiness had fallen over the sea and a bank of gray clouds lifted itself slowly and stealthily above the horizon line to the northwest and spread its flanks as it rose over the water like the wings of some ominous creature of the air. The Rabbi, who had toiled with the others until late in the afternoon, left them before the clouds rose, and finding some dry nets made a pillow and lay down to sleep. The other fishermen toiled on. One wing of the cloud bank reached across the sun and the sea grew restless. But it was not until a sharp breeze struck the bearded faces bending over the nets that Peter said to James, "Let us back to land. A storm ariseth."
The nets were quickly hauled in and the sails loosened to the rising wind. But the storm was one of the sudden kind that at times sweep Galilee like an unbridled fury, and almost before they were aware of its speed their ship was running like a wild bird, while Peter shouted and the crew worked with sails and tackle. The light of the sun turned dark. The fury of the storm increased until the air was filled with roaring and the earth seemed to be vomiting the sea from its bosom. When the darkness was riven by lightning, the set faces of the fishermen, fighting for life, showed pallid for a moment and the racing billows glimmered with blue streaks.
It was while the gray was turning yet darker that Peter caught sight of that which took his attention from the storm. "My Lord and my God!" he cried in great alarm. "What is that?" and he threw out a long arm which wavered with the vibration of the boat, as he pointed.
"Where? What seest thou?" those about him called back.
"I know not. But look you where the waves boil as a brew doth boil in a kettle! Something doth move about the waters like a strange, living mist."
"It is but spray thrown up."
"Nay, nay, not spray. It riseth and moveth itself aright, like unto a man."