“I shall not bother anybody now.” The warmth of the sun, reflected from the sea, entered his mind and lulled his limbs. Sea-quiet took hold of him; the peace of ocean bathed his spirit. He grew drowsier and drowsier; he began to doze. And as he fell asleep, his last thought was that he had got away from God. All day the sails sang in the wind, under the sun. Jonah slept; his dreams swept out like homing birds over the calm waters; and in his sleep he wept. But in the afternoon the wind died away; an ominous haze enveloped the sky; and the sea grew oily. The sails were hastily drawn in; and the oars were made ready. Huddled together on the deck, the seamen spoke in low, anxious voices. All eyes were turned toward the east, which grew darker and darker. All was still; the air did not stir. Moved by fear, the men trembled; and as though herself frightened, the ship started to creak in all her timbers. All at once the sky uttered a moan; high above them the air began to sing; and the sea rolled in slow, unwilling swells. And then it seemed as if the sky fell down upon the sea, for the water rose like the hills, and the dark came down upon it. Unable to move, the ship trembled from bow to stern, lifted dizzily upon the waves, tilted in the wind, and dropped like a stone into the trough. The gulls were flattened to the sea, and the air was filled with the shout of the gale, and the crash of water falling upon itself. It was God’s storm, but Satan also was enjoying it. Pale with fear, the sailors rushed to lighten the ship by throwing the cargo overboard. Then, as the tiny vessel dashed about in the water like a cork, they fell upon their knees and prayed to their gods, to Ramman, the thunderer, to Dagon, to Enlil, the old god of storms. Seeing that Jonah still slept, sheltered by the deck which curved above him, the captain ran to awaken him. “Here,” he said, “this is a storm. Well, see for yourself. You should be more anxious, my friend. Have you a god? Then pray to him, for we need all the help we can get.” Dazed by the tumult, still half asleep, Jonah gazed in confusion at the heaving waters. The wind lashed him to the deck; he stared in dismay at the mighty waves rising above him on every side like mountains. “I will not pray,” he said. And the captain shrank back at the sight of his face. But the seamen, clinging to the deck, looked anxiously at Jonah, and at the great seas which broke over them without ceasing. “This is no common storm,” they told each other; “some great god is angry.” They were good and simple men. Had one of them sinned, to draw down upon them all such wrath? No, it was Jonah, the stranger whose face was like a demon’s, dark as the storm itself. They looked at him with terror. And Jonah looked back at them as frightened as they were. His mind reeled; had he not got away from God after all? Had God come after him--out there on the sea? Was there no way to flee from God?