“But when the fourteenth night was come, as we were driven to and fro in the Adriatic, about midnight the sailors surmised that they were drawing near to some country, and on sounding, found twenty fathoms, and after going a little farther and again sounding, found ten fathoms; and fearing that haply we should be cast off on rough places, they cast four anchors from the stern and wished that day were come. And as the sailors were seeking to flee out of the ship and had lowered the boat into the sea, under pretext as though they would lay out anchors from the bow, Paul said to the centurion and to the soldiers, Except these abide in the ship, Ye cannot be saved. Then the soldiers cut off the ropes of the boat and let her fall off. And while daylight was about to come on, Paul exhorted them all to partake of food, saying, [The] fourteenth day to-day ye wait and continue without food, having taken nothing. Wherefore I exhort you to partake of food, for this is for your safety; for not a hair from the head of any of you shall perish. And when he said this, he took bread, and gave thanks to God before all, and having broken, he began to eat. And all were of good cheer, and themselves also took food. And we were in the ship, all the souls, two hundred [and] seventy six. And being satisfied with food, they lightened the ship by throwing out the wheat into the sea. And when it was day, they did not recognize the land, but perceived a certain bay with a beach, on which they took counsel, if they could, to drive the ship. And casting off, they left the anchors in the sea, at the same time loosening the lashings of the rudder and hoisting the foresail to the wind, they made for the beach. And falling into a place where two seas met, they ran the vessel aground; and the bow stuck and remained immovable; but the stern began to break up by the violence [of the waves]. And the soldiers’ counsel was that they should kill the prisoners, lest they should swim out and escape; but the centurion, wishing to save Paul, hindered them from their purpose, and commanded those able to swim to cast themselves off first and go to land; and the rest, some on planks and some on things from the ship. And it came to pass that all got safe to land” (Acts 27:27-44).
A fortnight’s drifting under such a storm brought the end near, which is set as clearly before us as their previous course and efforts. The sounding of the lead indicated the approach of land, and no small danger imminent, which the night made more felt. There is no real difficulty in the Adriatic (vs. 27); because it was often used in a much wider application than to the sea between Greece and Italy, as has been shown in Ptolemy and in Pausanias. Modern usage confines the Adriatic to the gulf only. There is no ground, therefore, on this score to conceive of another Melita (that is, Meleda) instead of Malta, as generally understood. The breakers (which are characteristic of the point of Koura, near St. Paul’s Bay, as Mr. Smith has shown from Smyth’s view of the headland) gave occasion, probably, to the surmise of the sailors, confirmed as it was by their repeated soundings (vs. 28). Anchoring from the stern (vs. 29) was the safer course under such circumstances; and ancient ships had many anchors. It is shown from the sailing directions that the ground is exceptionally good there; so that there is no danger as long as the cables hold.
The unworthy design of the sailors was defeated by Paul. It was not exactly “casting out anchors,” which would not require the use of a boat. Under pretense of extending anchors from the prow, which was no unusual measure, they meant to desert the ship (vs. 30); but his word of warning to the centurion and the soldiers sufficed: “Except these abide in the ship, ye cannot be saved” (vs. 31). With the promptitude of their class, they cut off the ropes and let the boat fall off (vs. 32). God had given His word to save all; but it must be in His way; and He Who promised the end insists on His own means. We have only to be subject and obey.
Nor was the apostle only thus vigilant; he seeks, and not in vain, to comfort all and animate them with courage and confidence in God on the eve of the utmost apparent peril. He besought all to partake of food after their long abstinence, assuring them absolutely of preservation (verses 33, 34); and set the example himself after thanking God before all (vs. 35). There is no ground for the observation of Olshausen that it was, for the Christians, the celebration of the Lord’s supper or of an agape. For though the terms are just such as were so employed, they are no less expressly applied to an ordinary meal in Luke 24:30, and elsewhere. Indeed there is no small superstition in the some too often attached to them. It is the object of the Eucharist winch gives it its character; and this was quite out of place here. But the most ordinary food should be sanctified by the word of God and prayer, and the apostle here acts on his own instructions tonTimothy. No wonder that all became cheerful and took food (vs. 36), after long dejection and disinclination, with death before their eyes! Their number (vs. 37) is carefully added as two hundred and seventy-six, and then the lightening of the ship (a fresh nautical expression) by casting out the corn (vs. 38). They had eaten their last meal before the wreck, which is minutely described in the closing verses.
Wonder has been expressed that none of the sailors knew the land (vs. 39); but we are told by those competent to judge, that, remote from the well-known harbor of Valetta, this spot possesses no marked feature by which it might be recognized.
The A. V. here (vs. 40) is far from accurate. They did not take up the anchors, but cast them away (lit. round), and abandoned them (not “themselves”) into the sea. The loosing of the bands of the rudders, attached to the stern on each quarter, was a necessary act; for when a ship was anchored by the stern, the rudders had to be lifted out of the water and secured by lashings, which again were loosed when the ship got under way. Further, it was not the “mainsail,” but the foresail which they raised to the wind. Possibly the French term misled here; but the weight of practical or circumstantial evidence, as in Smith’s Dissertation, seems decisive. In this sense ύρτεμὼν occurs in no ancient Greek author. We see a foresail in an old painting of Pompeii. Luke alone designates it here. It is remarkable how the master and the pilot vanish from notice at all these times of danger, and for wise measures. The apostle really guides at the crisis; the sailors are only mentioned as meditating ineffectual treachery; the centurion takes action, with the soldiers on one occasion, on another preventing a cruel deed to secure themselves from risk as to the prisoners.
For now the supreme moment had arrived. The ship must be stranded, as it was impossible to save it any more than its lading. Making for the beach they fell into a place where two seas met, apparently through the island now called Salmonetta, in St. Paul’s Bay; and there they drove the ship aground (vs. 41). In few spots, save there, could the fact have been as here described, owing to a deep deposit of mud, where the bow stuck and remained fast, whilst the stern began to break up, exposed as it was to the force of the waves.
The soldiers’ counsel was to kill the prisoners (vs. 42). They were responsible under the severest penalties not to let them go, as even this book itself shows on more occasions than one. But the centurion, not so much out of pity for the rest as through regard for Paul, interfered to save him at all cost (vs. 43). “Wishing” is the force, not merely “willing.” His order was for such as could swim to cast off and to get to land; as the rest did, some on boards, and some on parts of the ship now going to pieces. They all got safe ashore, as verse 44 tells us. The promise was made good, to God’s glory, as a living God and faithful Creator.