Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Calm (04/09/26)
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TITLE: The Passenger | Previous Challenge Entry
By Jack Taylor
04/13/26 -
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I’ve sailed the seas over half my life, faced squalls off Cyprus, felt the winds snapping rigging near Alexandria, and dealt with a broken mast off Caesarea. Never had I been terrified like this. The sea was alive, purposeful, hunting us. The calm inside had shredded.
My calloused hands were raw, wrestling with ropes that wouldn’t hold. The salt stung my eyes and the wind howled like a beast robbed of prey. I lashed myself to the main mast as waves curled higher, crushing, and crashing with a fury that was otherworldly.
“Castor! Pollux!” I shouted into the teeth of the storm. The twin sons of Zeus were failing in their duty to protect sailors. Their stars had guided me to calm waters before. Today, their presence, power, and protection, were empty.
Around me, others called on Baal, Dagon, Chemosh, and Tarhuna. In panic, grain, crates, wares, and tools were hurled overboard to lighten the load. The shipped groaned as if praying for mercy. The storm only worsened.
My years of experience meant nothing in a storm with no rhythm, no predictable surges, no end in sight. The waves and wind were like demonic hoards determined to destroy. What was happening?
The captain nearby shouted, “The Hebrew!”
I shook my head. None of us were Hebrews. Then I remembered. The quiet one at Joppa. Slinking on board like a shadow. Where was he? He was no where in sight. Definitely not helping to keep us afloat. I found him downstairs, sleeping. How can anyone sleep when death claws away the only thing keeping them alive?
The captain shook him awake, yelling at him to call on his gods for mercy. The passenger grimaced, clenching his jaw. He knew something. I pulled him out of his room as the others cast lots. The lot fell on him and the boat rose high and dropped with a vengeance. “Tell us! Why is this happening,” I yelled. “Who is responsible? What kind of work do you do? Who are your people?”
“I’m a Hebrew who fears the LORD, the God who made the sea and the dry land.”
Made the sea. I knew gods who ruled the sea but this man claimed his god made the sea. The ship spun in a death spiral. “What have you done?” I shouted. “What do we do with you?”
“I’ve run from the one who sees all, who knows all, who controls all. Throw me into the sea and all will be calm for you. I know this is my fault that this storm has come on you.”
No one moved to seized him. We grabbed oars and rowed harder. We threw the last of the cargo overboard. We screamed for mercy from our gods. The darkness closed like a shroud around us as our muscles burned, oars snapped, and the ship threatened to give up the fight. The sea would not let us go.
At last, in desperation, we gathered around him, our fear like chains around our minds. The words from my mouth were strange. “LORD, don’t let us perish because of one, don’t charge us with innocent blood, have your way, but spare us.”
We lifted him like a part of the cargo and released him to the rage around us. The response was unforgettable. The wind’s roar died, instantly. The waves flattened as if a hand pressed them still. The raging beast vanished, as calm as polished glass reflecting clear skies.
My hands froze on the rail, my lungs gasped for breath, my eyes stared into the depths. No god I had known could do such a thing. Not Castor. Not Pollux. Not any of the others who hid behind empty skies. They could guide and guard, but none could command the sea. This Hebrew god did.
Fear, something deeper, heavier, and more life altering than our terror at the storm seized us. This LORD, this Yahweh, this god of Jonah, had pursued his own and claimed him. What hope did the rest of us have? And yet we lived. Calm on a silent sea.
Hardened sailors fell to their knees. They had laughed at death, mocked the gods, lived for the pleasure of the moment. Now, they uttered vows, arranged for a sacrifice to placate one more deity who had broken through their chaos and pronounced his presence in an unmistakable fashion.
From Jonah
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But the fear of God? Bringing this vital fear into words was the most important thing you did, as this story's writer. It's the only fear that can lead to true calm.