All the men were on deck, attending to the captain's directions; all eyes were attracted by the weird, beautiful, yet terrifying sight. The master, at the helm, did his best to avoid it, by changing the ship's direction; still, the column of water advanced threateningly in their course. It came nearer and ever nearer; now it was at a gun-shot from the ship; if they had had a cannon on board, they might have fired against it and dissolved it, but they had no firearms. The atmosphere around them was getting dark with mist, the waterspout was coming against them, and if that mass of water burst down on the ship it would founder at once.
What was to be done?
"Leave the ship, and take to the boats," said some of the crew, but it was already too late; they could not help being involved in the cataclysm.
Some of the men had sunk on their knees, and were asking the Virgin or St. Nicholas of Bari to come to their help.
"There is a remedy," said Vranic to the captain; "an infallible remedy."
"What is it?" asked the master, with the eagerness of a drowning man clutching at a straw.
"If a sailor amongst the crew happens to be the eldest of seven sons he can at once dissolve that cursed column of water, the joint work of the evil spirits of the air and those of the sea."
"How so?" asked the captain.
"Draw, at once, a pentagon, or five-pointed star, or King Solomon's seal, on a piece of white paper, and let such a sailor, if he be on board, stab it through the centre."
The captain called all the men together, and asked if anyone amongst them happened to be, by chance, the eldest of seven brothers.