He wanted to stand up and move around, but Rebecca had fallen asleep with her head on his shoulder and he didn’t want to disturb her. The cargo area was too crowded for him to be able to walk much anyway, and the soldiers weren’t about to allow him to go up to the deck for some fresh air; nevertheless he felt a restless urge to pace. Jacob told himself it was an urge he would have to stifle for the time being. Patmos was only thirty miles from Ephesus. They would reach the prison camp soon, and after a few hours of working in the quarries of Devil’s Island, he would probably long to be back in the bowels of this stinking ship with his aching back propped up against a rough wooden barrel. Closing his eyes, Jacob tried to doze. In spite of his exhaustion, and in spite of the monotony of the gentle pitch and roll of the creaking old boat—it was as smelly as the belly of Jonah’s great fish, but it was still seaworthy—he could not relax enough to fall asleep, so he tried to pray.
