One of the most extreme paintings exhibited by Turner in his own lifetime, and the culmination of his demonstrations of the puniness of man's creations in the face of the forces of nature. The whole composition is swept up in the vortex, and even the horizon slopes to accentuate the feeling of participation in the storm. The picture may recall a particularly bad storm in January 1842 though it has not been possible to tie down the exact incident. However, the Rev. William Kingsley told Ruskin of a conversation with Turner in which he stressed the truth of the incident and his interest in recording the experience: 'I did not paint it to be understood, but I wished to show what such a scene was like; I got the sailors to lash me to the mast to observe it; I was lashed for four hours and I did not expect to escape, but I felt bound to record it if I did. But no one had any business to like the picture?

However, Ruskin records Turner's hurt reaction to the criticism that it was nothing but a mass of 'Soapsuds and whitewash': 'Turner was passing the evening at my father's house on the day this criticism came out: and after dinner, sitting in his arm-chair by the fire, I heard him muttering to himself at intervals, "Soapsuds and whitewash! What would they have? I wonder what they think the sea's like? I wish they'd been in it"? The Athenaeum's review on 14 May was typical of this abuse: 'This gentleman has, on former occasions, chosen to paint with cream, or chocolate, yolk of egg, or currant jelly, - here he uses his whole array of kitchen stuff. Where the steam-boat is - where the harbour begins, or where it ends - which are the signals, and which the author in the Ariel... are matters past our finding out.' Or, as the Art Union for 1 June observed, 'Through the driving snow there are just perceptible portions of a steam-boat labouring on a rolling sea; but before any further account of the vessel can be given, it will be necessary to wait until the storm is cleared off a little. The sooner the better.'