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That night, Kemsa found he could not sleep. It had been many hours since the sun had disappeared behind the watery horizon, but still he clay awake. Eventually, Kemsa decided to go up on deck, but first he found one of his precious candles, and the materials with which to light itl.

The sailors would likely have mocked anyone else for coming up on deck at that hour, but there was something about the Aegyptian; he was simply too likeable to mock.

Kemsa found an empty corner, and lit his candle. He waited for a little wax to melt, and used that to affix his candle to the deck. It is a great fortune that the seas and skies are so calm tonight, he thought to himself. He sat down, and focused his entire attention on the flickering candle flame. He began his prayers. Mother Isis, forgive me. On this boat it is impossible for me to always offer the appropriate prayers and offerings to you when I should.

As he went through his prayers, Kemsa felt various mundane weights lift themselves from his soul. Eventually, though, Kemsa felt something entirely different. At first he was not sure what it was – the goddess did not normally respond to his prayers. What is it, Mother Isis? I hear ... Danger? Kemsa snapped out of his meditation, only to find that the skies had clouded over, and the boat was pitching wildly. His candle was nowhere to be found.

Kemsa looked around him. Men were scrambling around, trying to make the ship ready for this unexpected storm. But while they were desperately trying to adjust the sails and the rigging, making sure everything was tied down, and that all the hatches were closed, Kemsa was staring open-mouthed to port. His eyes were locked with those of gigantic scaly beast.

The sea serpent let loose a horrendous roar, and flung itself at the ship.