Ben stood a moment longer, watching the walls of water collapse over the rest of Pharaoh’s army. The dry path the Israelites had just crossed now disappeared. The waves crashed together as the sea returned to its bed, closer to Micah, closer . . .

Thoughts raced through Ben’s mind, seeming to take forever: first, the horrible memory of the day he nearly drowned, the water closing over his head, the mocking sun high above, wavering through the water. Then lying on his mat in his home back in Egypt, trembling in fear as the Angel of the Lord passed over his house. God had saved him then. Would He let Ben die now?

And then with a yell, without realizing that his feet had begun moving, Ben was racing down the slope onto the path between the walls of water. They had closed as far as the middle of the sea and were rapidly closing toward Micah, toward Ben, faster and faster . . .

Ben leaped over rocks. “Micah!” he yelled, but still Micah didn’t respond. “Help me, God!” Ben yelled, shouting for God’s help, screaming to make sure God heard. “Hold back the waters until we are safe, God, please!”

All Ben could see beyond Micah was the crashing together of the walls of water. Whirling in the waves, he could see a helmet from one of Pharaoh’s soldiers, a spear, the saddle blanket from someone’s horse.

And then he was there. Ben grabbed Micah, who began to wail and fight him off. But Ben wasted no time or effort trying to comfort Micah or ward off his blows. He simply dragged the screaming boy behind him toward shore.

Micah tripped and fell, sprawling face-first into the sand. Ben, holding tight, fell with him. Gritty sand filled Ben’s mouth, and his eyes stung as sand flew into them too. Spitting the sand out of his mouth, he dragged Micah to his feet and pulled him steadily toward the shore. The walls of water were still more than head high on either side, and another scene flashed through Ben’s mind: the way the sun had looked as he sank toward the bottom of the river years before.

He looked up to see how far they still had to go. So far! They would never make it. The shore was lined now with people calling out to them to hurry, reaching out to help pull them to shore —but still much too far away.

Micah rained blows on Ben, screaming in anger and fear. But Ben hardly felt them, so intent was he on getting himself and Micah to that line of shouting people who lined the shore.

Ben was vaguely aware that the walls of water seemed lower now, perhaps no higher than his head. Then Micah fell once more, and Ben grabbed him around the waist with both arms and pulled him up.

Even louder than Micah’s yells was the crashing of the water, sounding as if it was right at their heels, the sound of the seagulls wheeling overhead, the shouts of the people on the shore.

And then Ben was scrambling up the steeper slope at the shore; arms were reaching out to him. Someone grabbed him powerfully by his upper arms and yanked him the rest of the way.

He felt Micah being pulled from his grasp. Suddenly Ben was in someone’s arms, safe on shore just as the water came together with a crash behind him. Waves from the collision of the walls of water splashed up onto the shore, getting everyone there wet. But now they all laughed.

Yes, even Ben found himself laughing, though he was also trembling so hard he had to concentrate to keep his legs from collapsing under him. He’d just gotten splashed, water soaking him from head to foot. But he didn’t feel that surge of fear he’d always felt whenever water covered him. Instead, he felt only relief and thankfulness.

He turned and looked back over the water. Clear across the Red Sea, from the churning at their feet to the distant shore, stretched a path of disturbed water. It sloshed back and forth, covered with foam over which seagulls swooped and called.

Just then someone grabbed Ben tightly from behind, and Ben heard his father’s voice in his ear: “Benjamin! Oh, Benjamin! We couldn’t find you, and then we heard people shouting, and we looked back toward the water . . .”

And then his mother was there as well, and Ben also saw Joel’s father scoop up Micah in his arms, and for once Micah didn’t resist.

“This one saved the other boy’s life,” someone said, patting Ben’s shoulder. “Ran back out onto the path across the sea just as the water was collapsing. Nobody else would go, but he did.”

Joel’s father, his eyes filled with tears, reached across and ruffled Ben’s hair. “We thought we’d lost Micah,” he said, nodding. “He got separated from us somehow in the confusion. Ah, but Ben, my lad, you found him. What can I say? How can I ever thank you?”

Ben felt embarrassed and hid his face in his father’s side for a moment.

God didn’t take away the danger, Ben thought. The water still crashed behind me. And I was still afraid. But God helped me do what I needed to do anyway.

You did it, didn’t You, Master of all? You sent the Egyptian man to save me when I fell into the water and couldn’t help myself. Then You showed Pharaoh and the Egyptians that You are mightier than any of their gods —that You are the only God. And then You saved us from Pharaoh’s army, and saved Micah and me from the water. You did it all! Master of all, I love You.

Ben heard someone running up and skidding to a stop right beside him. “What happened?” he heard Joel call out.

Joel’s father laughed. “Your friend Ben saved Micah’s life, that’s what happened. He would have drowned.”

Ben turned and looked at Joel.

“You . . . you went back into the sea —after Micah?” Joel asked quietly. “But you could have been . . . You had to . . .”

“But I wasn’t,” Ben said.

“Weren’t you afraid?”

Ben nodded.

Joel looked at his friend quietly. “But you went anyway.” He grinned. “And look at you! You’re soaked!”

The two boys laughed. “I guess I lived through it,” Ben said.

Joel looked over Ben’s shoulder, then smiled and pointed. Ben looked behind him, and there stood the boys who liked to tease him. But they weren’t teasing now. And Ben suddenly realized they wouldn’t be able to tease him again —not about his fears, anyway. The boys stood quietly, simply watching him. Those faces that so often had looked at him with contempt now wore expressions of respect and interest.

Ben and Joel looked at each other and grinned. Joel leaned toward Ben and whispered in his ear, “If they call you River Boy now, it’ll mean something entirely different! They’ll be thinking of the time you risked your own life to save someone else. That’s something they’d never have been brave enough to do.”

The crowd around Ben and Joel began to murmur, and soon they heard someone say, “Moses is beginning to sing! It’s a celebration!”

“What’s he singing?” someone else asked.

Ben’s father still had his arm around his son. They turned toward the hill behind them, where Moses stood high on the rocks above them.

“It’s a new song, I think,” Ben’s father said. “But I can’t quite hear the words.”

Soon they could hear them, though, as all the people began to catch on, singing with Moses.

I will sing to the Lord,

for he is highly exalted.

The Lord is my strength and my song . . .

Ben looked at the joy on the faces of the people around him as they raised their hands toward heaven, faces turned upward.

The Lord is a warrior . . .

Pharaoh’s chariots and his army

he has hurled into the sea. . . .

The deep waters have covered them;

they sank to the depths like a stone.

High on the hill, near Moses’ rock, Ben saw an older woman, about the age of his grandmother, begin to dance, swaying back and forth with a tambourine in her hand.

“It’s Moses’ sister, Miriam,” someone said.

By the blast of your nostrils

the waters piled up.

The surging waters stood firm like a wall . . .

To Ben’s surprise, even his mother and grandmother began to dance along with Miriam. So did all the other women, clapping their hands, singing, taking small steps. Ben looked up at his father, and his father looked back down at him, squeezed his shoulder, and laughed as he sang.

And suddenly, as much as Ben was enjoying the song, the dance, the memory of what had just happened, he began to feel something else. He could hardly contain his excitement to begin this journey —to wherever God would lead them.

Who among the gods is like you, O Lord?

Who is like you —

majestic in holiness,

awesome in glory . . .