There it was again. Muffled arguments sloshing in and out. One voice shouted “What have you done?”
Another replied, “I’ll tell you what he has gone and done!” There was a third voice calmer and quieter yet it still managed to raise itself over everything else. “We are doomed, doomed I tell you. Before the sun sets we will have all been wrapped tight in shrouds of seaweed and tucked up in our own watery graves...doomed I tell you!”
A debate ensued with various items suggested for an earlier than anticipated dispatch to appease the sea gods. No two people could agree.
Ten oarsmen thrashed and splashed in the crashing water in a failed attempt to reach dry land. Tempestuous waves tsunamied over the sides of the ship. It rocked violently, backwards and forwards, side to side, pitching and tossing. I continued to watch from a safe distance floating silently, unseen between the rolling waves. This was always a good time for flotsam and jetsam. Finally, there it was, the inevitably of the storm. The shout. The splash. The silence.
With jaws wide I swam open mouthed towards the spoils of survival. With one slippery gulp it was in my mouth along with the remnants of a now rapidly calming squall. This was always my favourite part as I started to savour the meal. Seaweed wrap, nothing too unusual there. The parcel was swathed in a fine muslin cloth. There were subtle hints of fragrant herbs and spices as if the package had been laid to rest in the bows of a boat set to deliver its cargo on the Tarshish spice run. Wait, there was more to this than met the tastebuds. I had smelled this once before and my dad had told me that is was, wait what word had he used. Fur? No, no, not fur it was.. fear. This package reeked of fear. It was overpowering. The stench was so off putting.
Whatever it was, it was fresh, but inedible. Not so much stale meat, more stalemate. Yes, I was definitely happy with that one, I thought to myself making a mental note to share the joke with the next large fish that I met. I wasn’t going to chew it, nor was I going to spit it out, so I swallowed it whole.
Time and the storm both passed quickly and as nothing else had be thrown from the boat I headed off to the ocean floor to look for another snack. Then the strangest of things started to happen. It sounded like my stomach was rumbling, or to be more accurate, grumbling. “ From deep in the realm of the dead I called for help and you listened to my cry.” I stopped motionless and listened. “You hurled me into the depths, into the very heart of the seas, and the currents swirled about me; all your waves and breakers swept over me.” Well, this was a first. My stomach had often complained but never before had it ever been quite so poetic.
Night followed day, day followed night, night followed day and so on for three days moaning and grumbling. Then imperceptibly it started to change its tune. It started to rejoice. “But I, with shouts of grateful praise will say, ‘Salvation comes from the LORD.’” With that I belched and vomited the contents of my stomach onto dry land and felt immediately better. Brilliant I thought to myself, that feels wonderful and as I swam away I heard the remnants of a voice echo in the breeze, with a hint of distain if not irony. “Ninevah! Great. Marvellous, absolutely marvellous!”