Jonah

BUT in the morning his doubts returned more strongly than ever. “They will mock me in Nineveh,” he told himself. “I shall be made a laughing-stock. What power has the Light of Israel in the land of Marduk, of Dagon, of Istar, of the warrior Ashur? I should count myself lucky if I escaped being stoned to death.

“For how can God destroy Nineveh? I might as well preach to the fish in the sea.”

But now he had something to do, at least. He determined to flee from God. “I shall go to Tarshish,” he thought, “and begin life over again. There is nothing for me here any longer. The desert will be glad to be rid of me.”

And without bothering even to return to his hut, he started south, toward Joppa, where he expected to find a ship bound west for Tarshish.

He traveled swiftly, on other roads from those he had come. Late on the afternoon of the second day he crossed the Brook Kanah, and saw in the distance the white domed roofs of Joppa shining above the sea.

As he came down from the low hills, the sight of ocean rounded like a bowl under the wide arch of the sky, the distant and titanic clouds piled above the unseen shores of Africa, filled his heart for a moment with beauty. But then he thought:

“This is like Tyre. It is by the shore of this same sea that Judith has gone to live.”

And he cursed the beauty that hurt him.

It was late when he came to the shore, and night was already moving upon the deep. In profound silence he leaned above the harbor wall and regarded the shadowless water which with the sound of immemorial tides passed under him in the darkness. It was the season when the mists from the ocean blow landward in the evening. In the gray night fog the masts of the vessels at anchor rocked toward one another on the long, low waves; and the mist, salty with sea air, mingled along the quays with the odors of the city.

It was the dark of the moon in the month of Nisan. The moon was gone, and his youth with it. Other moons would rise, fall through the branches of a tree, and cheat a bird to sing. But where would Jonah be? And Judith, in her great house over the terraces of Tyre; she would grow old, soon she would be like Deborah, looking backward over her life.... What happened to youth, to beauty? Where did they go? They hardly lasted at all.

Night hung black and silent over the sea. The wings of angels leaned upon the wind which moved dark and vast between the earth and sky. The stars paled, and the sun rose like a ball of fire in the east. Then the ocean mist, cold as frost, melted away. The tide turned, and the waves, breaking far out, spoke with their murmur like the sound of wind to the sleeping city on the shore.

In the morning Jonah found a ship bound for Tarshish. The cargo was already loaded; and when he had made his bargain, he went aboard. Bearded and singing, the seamen hoisted the sails, yellow as a slice of moon; with a sly, tranquil motion the ship moved out of the harbor, over the blue sea, sparkling in the sun, past sails stained blue as the sky, or brown as the sands. The white roofs of Joppa faded behind them in the east, lost in the gradual fog; the seagulls cried above them; and Jonah sat silent, dreaming, gazing at the sea.

He was tired, and listless. “Now,” he said to himself, “God has lost me.”

And he thought of Deborah with sadness and peace. He remembered what she had said to him, as she had held him, weeping bitterly, in her arms, on her breast.

“Jonah,” she had said, “when you are dead, or perhaps very old and ready to die, people will say of you, ‘There, he was a great prophet.’ And they will feel honored because they knew you, because their names will be spoken of with yours. But now ...” she sighed; she wanted to say, “now you are only a nuisance.”

What she finally said was, “Well, people are like that.”

But Jonah knew what she wanted to say. And as he sat quietly on the deck of the ship under the yellow, curved sail, he thought,

“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?

Why had he tried to run away? What a fool.... God would never forgive him for it.

And then, in the crash of wind and water, a feeling of disdain came over Jonah, a bitter strength, a final pride. Well, here was the storm ... here was God still. God had taken everything away from him. What was his life worth to him now? Oh, be done with it, once and for all. “Look ... if You want it, God ... it is of no value to me any more....”

“It is my fault,” he said to the sailors proudly. “I alone am to blame. I am a Jew who has denied his God. It is my life that is wanted. Throw me overboard.”

But the sailors were frightened, and they would not touch him. “No,” they said, “we will row back to Joppa again. Then your god can do as he likes. If we throw you overboard, you will drown. Then we shall have blood upon our hands.”

They tried with all their strength to row against the storm. But the black sea, breaking, splintered their oars, and the wind pressed them backwards.

Then they said humbly, in fear, “This sea belongs to Iaveh, the god of the Jews. We cannot prevail against him any longer.”

And seizing Jonah, they cast him overboard, with a prayer. “Do not lay innocent blood upon us,” they said, “O god of the Jews. This is your doing, not ours.”

So saying they waited, trembling.

At once the sea grew calm, the wind died away, and the sun sank tranquilly down in the clear west. The peace of evening brooded again upon the water. And the ship, with all her sails set for Joppa, fled to the east.

Jonah sank through the waters without complaint. It was the end, and he had no desire to live. But as his breath failed, so his mind brought back to him the blue and shining sky, the sweet odors of the desert, the happy dreams of his youth, of glory, of peace. He began to struggle; his body fought against the sea, his mind shouted against death. “No,” he cried to himself, “no, I must live; I must live.”

With a groan Leviathan hurled himself through the waves and took the prophet into his mouth.