Jewish Seafarers

Hear my story then, that you may have no further leisure for your mocking wit, and I will tell you first of all how our crew was made up. Our skipper was willing to die on account of his bankrupt condition. In addition to him we had twelve sailors—thirteen in all! More than half of them, including the skipper, were Jews—a graceless race and fully convinced of the piety of sending to Hades as many Greeks as possible. The remainder were a collection of peasants who even as late as last year had never gripped an oar. [ . . . ]

A gale commenced to blow from the north, and the violent wind soon raised the seas as high as mountains. [ . . . ] Then Amarantus [the skipper] thunders out, “See what it is to be master of the art of navigation! I had long foreseen this storm, and that is why I sought the open [sea]. I can tack in now, since our sea room allows us to add to the length of our tack.” [ . . . ]

Well, we had no choice but to be satisfied with his explanation so long as daylight lasted and dangers were not imminent, but these failed not to return with the approach of night, for as the hours passed, the seas increased continually in volume. Now it so happened that this was the day on which the Jews make what they term the “preparation,” and they reckon the night, together with the day following this, as a time during which it is not lawful to work with one’s hands. They keep this day holy and apart from the others, and they pass it in rest from labor of all kinds.

Our skipper accordingly let go the rudder from his hands the moment he guessed that the sun’s rays had left the earth, and throwing himself prostrate, “allowed to trample on him what sailor so desired.”¹

We, who at first could not understand why he was lying down like this, imagined that despair was the cause of it all. We rushed to his assistance and implored him not to give up the last hope yet. The hugest waves were actually menacing the vessel, and the very deep was at war with itself. Now it frequently happens that when the wind has suddenly relaxed its violence, the billows already set in motion do not immediately subside. They are still under the influence of the wind’s force, to which they yield and with which they battle at the same time, and the oncoming waves fight against those subsiding.

I have every need of my store of flaming language, so that in recounting such immense dangers I may not fall into the trivial. To people who are at sea in such a crisis, life may be said to hang by a thread, for if our skipper proved at such a moment to be an orthodox observer of the Mosaic law, what was life worth in the future? We soon understood why he had abandoned the helm, for when we begged him to do his best to save the ship, he stolidly continued reading his roll. Despairing of persuasion, we finally attempted force, and one staunch soldier—for many Arabs of the cavalry were of our company—one staunch soldier, I say, drew his sword and threatened to behead the fellow on the spot if he did not resume control of the vessel. But the Maccabaean² in very deed was determined to persist in his observances.

However, in the middle of the night he voluntarily returned to the helm. “For now,” he said, “we are clearly in danger of death, and the law commands.” On this the tumult sprang up afresh, groaning of men and shrieking of women. All called on the gods and cried aloud; all called to mind those they loved.