Sintram was on the point of giving up, when in the moonbeams a ship appeared, with white-swelling sails, towards the south.

Anguish came over him, that Gabrielle would soon thus quickly sail away; he wished again with all his power, and fixed his eyes intently on the watery abyss.

"Sintram," a voice might have said to him--"ah, Sintram, art thou indeed the same who so lately wert gazing on the moistened heaven of the eyes of Gabrielle ?" And now the waters heaved more mightily, and the howling tempest swept over the ocean; the breakers, white with foam, became visible in the moonlight.

Then the little Master threw the lock of Sintram's hair up towards the clouds, and, as it was blown to and fro by the blast of wind, the storm burst in all its fury, so that sea and sky were covered with one thick cloud, and far off might be heard the cries of distress from many a sinking vessel.
But the crazy pilgrim with the dead men's bones rose up in the midst of the waves, close to the shore, gigantic, tall, fearfully rocking; the boat in which he stood was hidden from sight, so mightily raged the waves round about it.
"Thou must save him, little Master--thou must certainly save him," cried Sintram's voice, angrily entreating, through the roaring of the winds and waves.

But the dwarf replied, with a laugh: "Be quite at rest for him; he will be able to save himself.