Short Stories

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"Euroquilo!" shouted the helmsman as the ship was caught suddenly by the violent storm and couldn't head into the wind.

It was as if "Typhon the monster" had slapped our faces, driving us into a whirling, drenching rain. Cascades of cold water sprayed across the ship, soaking all of us to the skin. The deck was like a sheet of ice as men clung to ropes for their lives. Others emptied their stomachs over the railing and into the sea.

"Run for cover!" yelled the captain. The main mast shuddered and then cracked in the fierce gale.

The mast's burden of ropes and cables came crashing down all around us, trapping some of the men for a short time. Fearing we would run aground on sandbars off the African coast, the captain ordered the crew to pass long ropes under the ship's hull to keep it from breaking apart by the pounding waves.

"Raise the anchor and just let her be driven along!" the captain ordered as the fierce winds swept down off Mount Ida and rolling waves mauled our ship.

The winds blew us due west to the small island of Cludia. All leg irons were removed from the convicts so they could help sailors pump out the bilge water. The next day we started throwing the deck cargo, even animals, overboard to lighten the vessel. By the third day we tossed the ship's tackle into the sea.

For twelve wretched days and nights the hurricane raged on, with neither sun nor stars appearing through the thick clouds to help us navigate. Most of those on board appeared to have no hope of being saved.

One night, after the men had been a long time without food, Paul went topside and climbed a rope ladder to speak to the sailors.

"You should have taken my advice not to sail from Crete!" he shouted to the men below.

The ship's owner came out of the pilothouse and looked up at Paul.

Paul paid no attention to the owner. "Listen to me, all of you," he went on. "Last night an angel of the God I serve stood beside me and said, 'Don't be afraid. You must stand trial before Caesar.' The angel said God has given me the lives of all who sail on this ship."

Paul clung to the rope ladder. Suddenly, he was blown hard against the mast, hitting his right shoulder and nearly losing his grip. But he recovered and shouted to all below, "Keep up your courage! I have faith in God that it will happen just as he told me. To be saved from this storm, we must run against on some island."

Afterward, Paul went below deck and tried to get some rest as the ship was being driven across the Adriatic Sea. About midnight he got up, however, went topside for air, and saw the sailors taking depth soundings, sensing they were approaching land.

"One hundred twenty fee deep!" a sailor announced. "Ninety feet!" he then shouted.

It had been fourteen days since we left Crete, and we could see breakers but not a shoreline. Dreading they would be dashed against the rocks in the darkness, the sailors dropped four anchors from the stern and prayed for daylight. In an attempt to escape from the ship, they let the lifeboat down into the sea, pretending they were going to lower some anchors form the bow.

I wondered why they were dropping anchors from the bow under these conditions. Then Julius, the centurion who was taking Paul to Rome for trial, went over to the sailors, also curious about what they were doing.

Paul also came over to see what was happening. "Unless these men stay with the ship, you cannot be saved," he warned.

"Paul is right," Julius said. "Cut the ropes and let the dinghy fall away."

The sailors did as ordered.

The next day, just before dawn, Paul went on deck and found most of the men already hard at work, still struggling against the storm. They were worn out from hunger, but they were too busy fighting to survive to eat anything. Besides, the ship's cook couldn't prepare food as the vessel pitched relentlessly in the unsmiling sea. Paul also was weak, but he knew something had to be done and again climbed part way up the rope ladder.

"Listen! he said to the men. "I urge you to at least eat some bread--you need it to say alive."

Paul went below deck and came back with three loaves of rye bread. "Hear me," the apostle said. "Not one of you will lose a single hair from his head." After that he picked up a loaf and gave thanks to God in front of them. "Eat some of this to renew your strength."

Paul broke the bread into pieces, and with the cook's help handed them to the sailors. When they had eaten, the men went back to work and lightened the ship by throwing heavy grain into the sea.

The ship edged closer to a stretch of land nobody recognized. The captain saw a bay with a sandy beach and told the pilot to head for it and run the vessel aground if he could.

"Cut loose the anchors!" the captain ordered. The anchors were left in the water as the sailors untied the ropes that held the rudders. Then they hoisted the foresail to the wind and made for the beach, but the ship hit a sandbar. The bow stuck fast and wouldn't move, and the pounding surf broke the stern into pieces.

The soldiers ran to round up the prisoners, including Paul, with the intention of killing them all. Under Roman law, a solider who let his prisoner escape could be found guilty of the same penalty as the man he was guarding. When Julius saw what was happening, he moved quickly to spare Paul's life and the others with him.

"All who can swim, jump overboard and get to land," Julius ordered, and then dove into the raging water to save his own neck.

We all finally floated to shore like driftwood. Once safely on shore we learned the island was Malta, and the people showed unusual kindness to us. Our ship had been blown six hundred miles, to the east coast of this Roman colony, south of Sicily. I didn't know how many of us had survived the day's disaster until the ship's captain counted two hundred seventy-six heads--which was everybody who had been on board. God had saved us all from the storm!

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