Nuair a thuirling Réamainn Prút i mBéal Feirste i 1988, is strainséir é ina bhaile dúchais. Tugann sé faoi deara na fógraí ollmhóra a roinntear uimhir theileafóin na bpóilíní, á spreagadh chun glaoch a chur ort – chun faisnéis a thabhairt ar aghaidh faoi sceimhlitheoirí, chun ualach a bhaint as do choinsias.

Ach tá Réamainn ag smaoineamh ar a óige, ar an sean-rainn a bhíodh na seanmóirí cois bóthair ag aithris:

Tar éist le mo scéal faoi Ióná agus an míol mór;

Bealach síos i lár an aigéin!

Cuimhníonn sé freisin ar oíche chinniúnach na Nollag 1942. An oíche a léim sé amach as eitleán Gearmánach ar chósta Chontae an Dúin, rinne sé a bhealach go teach a thuismitheoirí i marbh na hoíche.

When Réamainn Prút lands in Belfast in 1988, he is a stranger in his home town. He notes the huge adverts sharing the police phone number, encouraging you to call – to pass on information about terrorists, to lift a burden from your conscience.

But Réamainn is thinking of his youth, of the old rhyme the roadside preachers used to recite:

Come listen to my tale of Jonah and the whale;

Way down in the middle of the ocean!

He remembers too the fateful night in December 1942. The night he jumped out of a German plane on the coast of County Down, he made his way to his parents’ house in the dead of night.