Suddenly a dark shadow fell upon the water near the western shore, just beneath the gap in the hills. The shadow elongated itself like a serpent emerging from its hole. Beneath it the water began to roll in billowy convolutions. The turmoil spread until, within a few moments, the entire lake was transformed into a vast caldron of boiling waters. The storm waves on the Great Sea were higher, but they were also longer, and more readily mounted than these. The Galilee boats, too, were utterly untrimmed for such an emergency, as the fishermen were accustomed to strike for land at the first sign of a storm, and danger made them alert to anticipate it. But to Hiram the wind-blow was a godsend. He invoked Jehovah's blessing, and raised to its place the log that was called a mast, and swung from it the heavy square sail of goat's hair.
Let the storm drive him where it would! He would rather die a victim of the elements than fall under the gloating hatred of Egbalus's crew of demons. But he did not expect to die. The storm-shriek was like a bugle blast, thrilling his courage. He shouted in triumph as he went bounding over the waves. A Tyrian king! A sea king, indeed, was he!
In the exhilaration of the moment he almost forgot his pursuers. But glancing back through the dense spray, he caught a glimpse of a heavy prow not far in his wake. Above it hung a great sail that seemed like some black-winged spirit driving it onward to fulfil its accursed mission. The vessel disappeared an instant in the blinding mist, only to reappear a full length nearer. A moment more, and fate would ring down the curtain upon this tragedy.
But Hiram determined that the exit should be a climax, if there were any ghostly spectators to applaud; and drawing his dagger, he caught it in his teeth, and waited. Fast as they flew, the waves rolled faster, and poured over the low stern of his vessel. Crossing a shoal, the huge billows mounted higher, and one of immense size hovered an instant in air, like the jaw of some great behemoth pursuing its tiny prey, then fell upon the boat, swallowing her in its remorseless maw.
Hiram was prepared for this, and, being a tireless swimmer, kept afloat while he was flung through the breakers. His pursuers came on. Being higher in the stern, the great waves caught and hurled their boat across the shoals. Hiram cursed all the gods when he saw that, and even taunted Jehovah as the hated craft flew past him.
But a moment later he became as pious a Jew as he had been a blasphemer; for the flying boat suddenly stopped; her mast bent forward; she swirled, careened, and sank.
Hiram could not see the shore through the blinding spray, but the billows were wings for him, and he was sure of holding out though the entire lake were to be crossed.
The wind in an instant died away. The spray as quickly ceased to fly from the broken crests of the waves. The billows rolled, but seemed to have lost their force. They lifted him gently, and allowed him to glide onward. The shore was there, not a hundred strokes distant.