miserable man! oh! most contemptible and worthy of all scorn; with slouched hat and guilty eye, skulking from his god; prowling among the shipping like a vile burglar hastening to cross the seas. so disordered, self-condemning is his look, that had there been policemen in those days, jonah, on the mere suspicion of something wrong, had been arrested ere he touched a deck. how plainly he’s a fugitive! no baggage, not a hat-box, valise, or carpet-bag,—no friends accompany him to the wharf with their adieux. at last, after much dodging search, he finds the tarshish ship receiving the last items of her cargo; and as he steps on board to see its captain in the cabin, all the sailors for the moment desist from hoisting in the goods, to mark the stranger’s evil eye. jonah sees this; but in vain he tries to look all ease and confidence; in vain essays his wretched smile. strong intuitions of the man assure the mariners he can be no innocent. in their gamesome but still serious way, one whispers to the other—"jack, he’s robbed a widow;" or, "joe, do you mark him; he’s a bigamist;" or, "harry lad, i guess he’s the adulterer that broke jail in old gomorrah, or belike, one of the missing murderers from sodom." another runs to read the bill that’s stuck against the spile upon the wharf to which the ship is moored, offering five hundred gold coins for the apprehension of a parricide, and containing a description of his person. he reads, and looks from jonah to the bill; while all his sympathetic shipmates now crowd round jonah, prepared to lay their hands upon him. frighted jonah trembles, and summoning all his boldness to his face, only looks so much the more a coward. he will not confess himself suspected; but that itself is strong suspicion. so he makes the best of it; and when the sailors find him not to be the man that is advertised, they let him pass, and he descends into the cabin.