The Shipwreck

“Borne upon the Ocean’s foam,
Far from native land and home,
Midnight’s curtain, dense with wrath,
Brooding o’er our venturous path,
While the mountain wave is rolling,
And the ship’s bell faintly tolling — Saviour! on the boisterous sea
Bid us rest secure in Thee.

Blast and surge conflicting hoarse,
Sweep us on with headlong force;
And the bark, which tempests urge,
Moans and trembles at their scourge:
Yet should wildest tempests swell,
Be Thou near, and all is well — Saviour! on the stormy sea
Let us find repose in Thee.”

“If I take the wings of the morning, and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; even there shall Thy hand lead me, and Thy right hand shall hold me.” — Ps. exxxix. 9, 10.

W T was probably about the end of summer r that Paul and his two companions, Luke v and Aristarchus of Macedonia, set sail for Snfe Rome from the port of Cesarea. They embarked in a coasting vessel, bound for Adramyttium, a place in the north-west of the province of Asia Minor. We have no means of ascertaining what the crew consisted of, whether many or few. Julius, a centurion of the Augustan cohort, was the officer in charge of the prisoners; and he had a number of soldiers under him to guard them. It is not improbable there were several others on board, being conveyed, like these Christian missionaries, for trial to the capital. They coasted along the shores of Palestine and Phenicia till they arrived at Sidon. This was a distance of eighty miles, which, however, could be easily accomplished in twenty-four hours. Here, while the vessel was at anchor, Paul received permission to go on shore and visit any Christian friends or brethren. It is probable the officer had received orders, before leaving, to treat the Apostle with respect and kindness; at all events, we read “that he treated him courteously, and gave him liberty to go to his friends and refresh himself.” * It is more than probable, also, that Julius had become intimately acquainted with Paul during his two years’ residence at Cesarea, and had then formed that deep regard for his character which is manifested throughout the eventful voyage on which they have just entered.t

No sooner had they set sail again from Sidon, than the wind became unfavourable, blowing from the westward. Their direct route to Asia Minor was by the southern side of Cyprus (keeping it on their right), and taking a straight course, as had been done two years before by the Apostle; but, in consequence of the wind being right against them, they had to coast along the shore, taking a circuit by the north of the Island. They must at many points have been within sight of land. Paul, for the last time, may have caught a glimpse of the lofty tops of Mount Taurus, as he sailed along the bold headlands of his native Cilicia. By the influence of some favouring breezes, which prevail at that season of the year, they made rapid progress along the Cilician and Pamphylian coasts. The first place they anchored at was Myra, a town in the south of the province of Lycia. Its situation was a

* Acts xxvii. 3.

t The reader is now requested to follow the line marked in black on the Map.

remarkable one — at the mouth of a narrow and precipitous valley which formed the outlet from a vast pile of mountains beyond. The town was built on a height about two and a half miles up the river, whose broad channel was guarded by a heavy chain which stretched across from shore to shore. Though now an utter ruin, Myra seems to have been, in Paul’s time, a well-known and favourite port for merchant- vessels of the Mediterranean. It is not at all to be wondered at, that here our voyagers found a corn-ship of Alexandria on its way to Italy, as the Alexandrian vessels often put into its port from stress of weather.

We may wonder how these ships would take such a round-about way as this, in going to Italy. Why not skirt along the coast of Africa, and then direct northwards? The reason was, that at that season of the year a strong north-west wind always blew along the coast; and, therefore, although increasing the distance, they generally preferred going first northwards to the shores of Asia Minor, thence westwards among the /Egean islands. These islands, moreover, in the absence of the modern compass, served as landmarks to enable them to shape their course.

It would seem that the original intention had been to take the prisoners the whole way to Adramyttium, then to conduct them by land through the Via Egnatia to the port of Dyrrachium, and thence across the Adriatic to Home. This was the route by which, in after years, one who bore the martyr-spirit of the Great Apostle, (Polycarp,) was taken from Antioch to the city of the Tiber.* But the centurion now decided on a different plan; he abandons all idea of the land-

* See Lewin, p. 713, journey, and places his prisoners in the Alexandrian corn-ship.

It is probable that this new vessel was considerably larger than the one which brought them from Cesarea. The Egyptian ships of commerce were the largest in the Mediterranean. We must not, therefore, think of Paul in this voyage — as some of us, perhaps, have been accustomed to think of him — sailing in a rude bark, or small trading-vessel, with a handful of companions; he was within vast wooden walls, not unworthy of many of our own merchantmen.*

Lucian, who lived in the next century, gives an amusing description of one of these Alexandrian cornships coming into the port of Athens. It is lying at the Pirieus, and the Athenians, with their well-known love of “seeing things new,” come crowding down to inspect, the floating monster. They are described as being greatly struck with its size — 180 feet long, and 45 wide. Its masts, yards, cables, cabins, anchors, capstans, windlasses — all about it formed subject of comment and wonder; from the goddess on its prow, to the golden goose on its stern; and the corn in its store, which was enough to “keep all Attica for a year.”t

They sail from the port of Myra, and they had good reason to calculate on a favourable voyage; for this being the beginning of September, the Etesian winds might be expected to cease. These, however, had continued longer than usual. He who holdeth the elements in His hands, had some wise reason for detaining the south wind, which would have brought them in due time to a quiet haven.

A distance of 130 miles, to Cnidus, is performed

* Howson. t See the passage given in fall by Mr Lewin.

slowly — after “many days.” Tossed about with contrary weather, they resolve to run down to the southern shores of Crete, where they would be protected from the fury of the north-west wind, and take refuge, if needed, in some of its harbours. By tacking and beating about, they accomplished the voyage without difficulty till they came to Cape Matala; but, whenever they doubled that promontory, the full force of the westerly gale met them in the face, and no vessel could ride out the blast. They gladly ran into a place called Fair Havens, and anchored behind some bold rocks. It now became a question whether it would be advisable to winter there, or to proceed to another harbour, and a more secure one — the port of Phoenix, or Lutro, forty miles westward. A council seems to have been held on board the ship. It shows the confidence reposed already in the good judgment of Paul, that he was not only permitted to be present, but allowed to give his opinion as to what was best to be done in the present “perils of waters.” He was clearly of opinion they should not proceed, but avail themselves of the roadstead in “Fair Havens.” “Sirs,” said he, “I perceive that this voyage will be with hurt and much damage, not only of the lading and ship, but also of our lives.“‘” But the advice, which so soon turned out a wise one, was not assented to. The centurion naturally thought the captain and pilot were better judges, and he decided that they should proceed.

Towards the close of October, the wind all at once suddenly changed; the sky cleared, the sails were hoisted, and the crew, little aware of coming dangers,

* Acts xxvii. 10.

were proceeding round Cape Mataja to this new anchorage. All at once, after rounding the Cape, another violent wind came sweeping down from the mountains of Crete. It was a peculiar hurricane, known to the sailors by the name of Euroclydon. So furious was it, that they were utterly unable either to retrace their steps or proceed. They were at the mercy of the storm. The helmsman lost all command over the vessel. They were involved in a sort of whirlwind, which lashed the sea into fury, and drove them in the direction of Clauda, now Gozzo, a small island to the south-west of Crete. There being, however, no anchorage there, there was nothing for it but to make every preparation for weathering the storm. Large ropes, which they had on board just to meet such an emergency as now occurred, were taken for “undergirding” the ship; that is to say, they were tied round and round the under-part of the vessel, meeting on the deck, the design being to prevent the consequences of springing a leak;* perhaps the storm had raged so violently, when her sails were up, as to have already strained her and started her timbers. They “lowered the gear,” took down a number of sails, some of which were doubtless already shivered to pieces, and others which, by remaining up, added to their danger.

The vessel now drifted from Clauda west by north. They must beware, however, of scudding before the wind, else twenty-four hours will sweep them a wreck on the great sandbank of Africa. These sandbanks

* An instance of the same kind is mentioned in Lord Anson’s Voyage Round the World. Speaking of a Spanish man-of-war in a storm, he says, “They were obliged to throw overboard all their upper-deck guns, and take six turns of the cable round the ship to prevent her opening.” — Quoted by Barnes.

were constantly shifting their position by the action of the sea, so that they could not be sure how near they might be to danger. The storm rages fiercely as ever. The second and third day pass, and no prospect of abatement. The day after Clauda was left, they took the precaution to lighten the ship by casting overboard what was least valuable. More than probably she had now “sprung a leak,” water was fast getting in, and, on the third day, all hands on deck were employed in throwing whatever could be spared overboard. In this was included the tackling of the ship; and when Luke tells us, “we cast it out with our own hands,” we may picture the Great Apostle and Evangelist lending their assistance in these awful moments. The vast mainyard would require every effort to plunge it into the roaring sea.

Days of suspense and hardship followed. The sky was quite dark; no observations could be made. My readers may picture the terrible scene. The creaking of the timbers — the howling of the storm — the passengers, with exhausted bodies, plying the pumps night and day, and all seemingly in vain.. “Neither stars nor sun were seen for many days.” Where they were, they could not tell; for the valuable compass, as I have a little ago said, was not discovered at that time, and they were wholly dependent on the observation of the heavenly bodies. The next moment they might strike on some rock, or be driven on some unknown shore. Add to all this, the provisions were so injured, that they began to suffer from want of food; and so fast was the water gaining ground, that the crew seem to have resigned themselves to hopeless despair.

Where was Paul all this while 1 Doubtless he bore his part nobly in all these sufferings and endurances; but there was one duty which he specially engaged in, in those hours of terror. As at Damascus, in the quiet chamber of the street called “Straight,” so here, amid the moanings of the storm, “behold, he prayeth!”

“Behold the man of God!

His hallow’d voice of pi-ayer
Rises above the stifled groan
Of that intense despair.

How precious are those tones

On that sad verge of life,
Amid the fierce and freezing storm,

And the mountain-billows’ strife!”

His prayer is heard! He had been wrestling with that God who commandeth the winds and the sea, and they obey him. God, at midnight, gives his honoured servant another of those visions with which he had already more than once favoured him in his hour of trial. An angel wings his flight across these dark waters — visits that labouring vessel — and, amid the roar of the pitiless storm, whispers, “Fear not, Paul.” The Ajpostle, at the dawn of tke next day, calls the heathen passengers and crew around him; and, lifting up his own voice amid the din of the waters, told the glad news: “Sirs, ye should have hearkened unto mp, and not have loosed from Crete, and to have gained this harm and loss. And now I exhort you to be of good cheer: for there shall be no loss of any man’s life among you, but of the ship. For there stood by me this night the angel of God, whose I am, and whom I serve, saying, Fear not, Paul; thou must be brought before Csesar: and, lo, God hath given thee all them that sail with thee. Wherefore, sirs, be of good cheer: for I believe God, that it shall be even as it was told me. Howbeit we must be cast upon a certain island.” *

There is something very sublime in this. To see a poor bound prisoner, on his way to the bar, a convict, in a convict ship, standing forth at this awful crisis, alone able to comfort and sustain a sinking crew. He had known in the past the faithfulness of God’s word, and he believes it now. He looked around him on the mountain billows, but he rejoiced in the Psalmist’s assurance, “The Lord sitteth on the floods, yea, the Lord sitteth King for ever.” “Though the waters thereof roar and be troubled, — though the mountains shake with the swelling thereof,” — “the Lord on high is mightier than the noise of many waters, yea, than the mighty waves of the sea.” The night before, “all hope that they should be saved was taken away.” The next day no ray of light fringed these dark clouds; but, though the sea was still running mountains high, he was not afraid, — “his heart was fixed, trusting in the Lord.”

His speech soothed the agitated spirits around. The crew were nerved by his words of encouragement, and set themselves with new vigour to weather the tempest. It was raging still with unabated violence. Fourteen days in succession they drifted along the trough of the ocean. At the close of the fourteenth day, about midnight, the well-known sound of “breakers” fell on the ear of the trembling mariners, and warned them that they must be drawing near to land. Through the hazy darkness they descried to the left a fringe of white foam. They let down the sounding-lead — the depth of the sea

* Acts xxvii. 21-26.

was twenty fathoms; they sounded shortly after, it was only fifteen! As they were so rapidly coming to shallow water, they saw that their only hope of safety was to get the ship anchored till day-dawn, aDd then to run in the best way they could to some creek or bay in this strange coast. Orders were given to cast out four anchors by the stern; but after this was done, as they had good ground to fear she might break from these and be driven on shore, every eye “looked anxiously for the day.”

And what land was this they were now approaching 1 All the description we have of it in the Acts is, “a certain island.” Able writers, who have turned their attention to the subject, have most satisfactorily proved that this could be none other than the island of Malta, which the youngest reader knows to be situated to the south of Sicily. You may picture to yourselves these terrible moments — land close at hand, but death and destruction between! The sea rolling mountains high, the vessel pitching all the more heavily by the strain from her anchors. The breakers were roaring ahead — the leak was increasing — the rain or sleet poured down from a black sky. The sailors, fearing that the ship would go to pieces before daylight, were making an unmanly attempt to save themselves and leave the others to the mercy of the storm. They lowered the small boat from the side of the vessel under a false pretence, saying that another anchor would require to be let down to steady the pitching ship, but that it would be needful, for this purpose, to convey it first of all in the boat to a little distance. Paul detected their cowardly purpose, and saw that, if they did not wait and assist, they would all perish. “Except these abide in the ship,” said he, “ye cannot be saved.” The Apostle directed his remonstrance, not to the sailors, but to the soldiers and the centurion. It showed the influence this great man had acquired. They instantly decided the matter by cutting the ropes by which the small boat was let down — it plunged into the sea, and was left to drift away in the dark, and become the sport ot the breakers.

The dawn of day broke wildly in the eastern horizon. It was a gladsome sight, but only served to disclose to them more fearfully the reality of their peril. The clouds of spray still screened from view the adjoiningshore. Of many shipwrecks, doubtless, we all have read; but there is something of terrible interest surely in the one before us. Imagine 276 individuals, wan with terror, and faint from want of food and rest, clustered together on the deck, which they expected to see every moment shivered under their feet. As the gray dawn of morning is lighting dimly up these countenances, one figure stands conspicuous in the midst of them. He began that voyage a prisoner — he is now their acknowledged director and counsellor; even the heathen sailors and crew have seen that a nobler spirit than that of earth animates him. He again raises his voice in the storm — he reminds them that for fourteen days they had gone without food; that it was a duty to suspend for a little their labour, and partake of the gifts which God had given them — adding, moreover, as a reason, that a hair of their head would not perish. He himself set the example, and in the dim light of that eventful morning, in presence of the crew, he said grace, asked the divine blessing on the food of which he partook, and, in accordance with his advice and example, they partook also.

Their next occupation was to unburden the vessel of the cargo of wheat, which not only added to the difficulty of running safely ashore, but probably it had also been so soaked with sea- water as to be rendered useless. This done, the lingering shades of night had all dispersed, and the land appeared.

On looking towards the shore, they observed a small creek, or bay, with a sandy beach; here they were anxious, if possible, to effect a landing. After making necessary preparations for- the hazardous attempt (setting up the foresail, taking up the anchors, and loosing the rudder-bands), in a place where two seas meet, they ran the ship aground. A sand bank, a little in front of the shore, had been concealed by the waves; on this the forepart of the vessel stuck fast, but the hinder part was driven to pieces by the violence of the billows. It was quite evident now that nothing possibly could save the ship, — a few minutes more, and her shivered planks would be strewed over the waters. In this perilous moment the thought struck the soldiers, what shall we do with our prisoners, Paul among the number f If they escape from our hands, we shall be responsible for their safety. Their first proposal, under a stern sense of duty, was to kill them at once; and there seems little doubt this would have been carried into effect, had it not been for the influence the Apostle had gained over the centurion. It would indeed have been an unpardonable act to have dyed these raging waters with the blood of those who had struggled so bravely in behalf of the crew; and more especially to sacrifice the life of one whose presence and manly bearing had so greatly contributed hitherto to their safety. The centurion, therefore, “willing to save Paul,” gave orders that all who could swim should plunge into the water, and make the best of their way to the shore. His advice was immediately obeyed — some swam, others on broken boards and pieces of the vessel surmounted the angry breakers, and they got all safe to land.*

“The name of the island was Melita.” Malta was then a thinly-peopled place, and its inhabitants were of Phoenician origin. The bay where they landed was a few miles to the north of the present capital, Valetta, and is screened on the north by the rocky island of Salmonetta. It is remarkable that the soundings at the eastern entrance of the bay at this day exactly correspond with those given in the Acts. A number of the islanders, who had witnessed the labouring of the Alexandrian corn ship, now crowded down to the creek where the faint and weary crew were huddled together, drawing breath, after so long a period of terrible torture. They are called “barbarians,” but their natural kindness got the better of any baser passions. They sympathised with the shivering sufferers; and in some sheltered hollow they lighted a fire to restore warmth. We may imagine how grateful this would be, when we remember that most of them must have been soaked and dripping with sea- water. Some had no clothes at all; the ram was pelting from above; and all this under the chill and wintry winds of November. The Apostle himself had been assisting in collecting sticks to kindle the blaze, and was casting these into the

* Sec tho picture.

flames, when a viper came “out of the heat,” and fastened on his hand. The natives, when they beheld this, immediately drew the conclusion that Paul mast be a murderer — that, though he had escaped the sea, vengeance still pursued him, and would not suffer him to live. How remarkable, that even among barbarians there is a conviction of the certainty of vengeance overtaking the sinner, — nature confirming the Bible truth, that, “though hand join in hand, the wicked shall not escape unpunished!” The Apostle shook the reptile into the flames. They expected every moment to see his body swelling with the poisonous sting, and falling lifeless to the ground; but when they saw that he remained unharmed, they gazed with wonder, and pronounced him to be a god. An objection has been raised by some to the accuracy of the incident here recorded, that no poisonous vipers or snakes are now found in Malta. The answer, however, is quite satisfactory. At the time of St Luke, Malta was an uncultivated, unpeopled island; whereas, now, it is, without exception, for its size, the most densely crowded spot in Europe j and population and civilization always tend to rid an insular country of dangerous tribes of animals. We have seen the Highlanders on a Scottish loch point with pride to the hill on which the last wolf in Britain was killed. We cannot, at all events, receive the silly and superstitious explanation which tradition gives us, and which is believed in by some of the islanders to this day. They think that the same kind of vipers still exist, but that they ceased to be poisonous reptiles ever since the Apostle flung the one which fastened on him into the fire. They tell a story of an islander, from curiosity, carrying one of these vipers into Sicily, and that it immediately became poisonous, but on coming back again to the charmed land of Malta, its venom left it! *

But to return to the narrative. We are not told what further effect this miracle had upon the minds of the people. It was not the only exertion of miraculous power on the part of the Apostle. Near the spot where the vessel was wrecked, Publius, the governor of the island, had his residence and possessions. He received kindly the shipwrecked crew, and entertained them for three days. His humanity and pity did not go unrewarded. His aged father was, at the time, lying dangerously ill of fever. St Paul went and laid his hands on him, and prayed, and his recovery ensued. Others who had diseases heard of the marvellous cure, and came themselves to be healed. Before the strangers departed, they were laden with proofs of the gratitude of the islanders.

We cannot resist mentioning, in passing, that there is a name we have often had occasion to refer to in the notes at the foot of the page, which possesses some interest in connexion with Paul’s voyage and shipwreck, — it is that of the Jewish historian Josephus, whose writings tend to throw so much valuable light on that period. There seems, at least, a probability that he formed one of the crew in the Alexandrian corn-ship; and, if so, that he met the Apostle, and was witness of the prisoner’s noble bearing throughout the storm. Without offering any opinion on the subject, I shall quote to you the words of the young historian himself, who, at the age of twenty-five, made a voyage to Rome, and gives the following account of it: — “At the time when

* See note in Stackhouse’s History of the Bible, vol. vi. p. 421.

Felix was procurator of Judea, there were certain priests of my acquaintance, good and worthy persons, whom, on a small and trifling occasion, he had put into bonds and sent to Rome to plead their cause before Caasar. For these I was desirous to procure deliverance, and that especially because I was informed that they were not unmindful of piety towards God even under their affliction, but supported themselves with figs and nuts. Accordingly, I came to Rome, though it was often through great hazards by sea; for our ship being wrecked in the midst of the Adriatic Sea, we that were in it swam for our lives all the night, when, upon the first appearance of the day, a ship of Cyrene appearing to us by the providence of God, I and some others, eighty in all, going before the rest, were taken up into the ship. And when I had thus escaped and came to Puteoli, I became acquainted with Aliturus, an actor of plays, a Jew by birth, and much beloved by Nero, and, through his interest, became known to Poppaaa, Caesar’s wife, and took care, as soon as possible, to entreat her to procure that the priests might be set at liberty.” We shall immediately find this was the same direction Paul and his friends followed from Malta.

Three months had been spent on the hospitable shores of that island home, the Apostle doubtless taking every opportunity, in exchange for their temporal, to give its people of “spiritual things.” It is unlikely that he who would not pass a night in a dungeon without preaching the gospel, could now continue twelve weeks with his lips silent regarding the truth. Tradition even says that Publius himself not only became a Christian, but died Bishop of Malta. We know that, ever since the shipwreck of Paul, the religion of Christ has had a footing in that island. My young readers may have heard that, in 1838, our former good Queen Adelaide visited Malta, and that, among the first objects which meet the eye of the voyager in landing, is a Christian church, a memorial of her piety and generosity.

The season of the year when our voyagers could, with favourable winds, prosecute their route, had now set in, and Julius was desirous, without delay, of reaching the capital. Here the Alexandrian ship, called the “Castor and Pollux,” had wintered at Malta, and was again about to sail for Italy. Castor and Pollux, it is scarcely necessary to add, were two fabled twin brothers among the Roman deities. They were supposed to be sons of Jupiter, who, at their death, were translated to heaven, and formed into a constellation under the name of Gemini (or twins). Sailors were considered to be specially under their protection; hence it was a favourite name for Roman vessels, and their image was often placed on the ship’s prow, as was possibly the case with the one in which the Apostle now embarks.

The voyage was completed in safety without any memorable occurrence. They put in for three days into the famous harbour of Syracuse in Sicily, one hundred miles distant from Malta. We are not told whether Paul landed; but it is more than probable that the permission granted him by Julius before, would not be refused him here,* and that he preached in this sea-port of the West “the unsearchable riches of Christ.”

Syracuse was, at that time, a great mercantile city.

* Howson, vol. ii. p. 858.

It was situated on a bold promontory, jutting out at the east of the island; and the bay, in which hundreds of ships rode at anchor, was screened on the south by the island of Ortygia. The Apostle must, at all events, have gazed on the beautiful buildings which lined the shore, “the fair walls of white marble” which surrounded the town; also the temples of Jupiter, Diana, and Minerva, — the latter towering high in the centre of Ortygia, — these testifying too plainly to its Pagan worship. It was, however, greatly shorn, by this time, of its ancient extent and splendour, although the loveliness of the surrounding scenery, both by sea and land, no changes could alter.

Again they set sail, and after beating about for some time, they reached, under less favourable weather, the town of Rhegium, situated on the extreme south of Italy, just before entering the Straits of Messina. After one day spent here, they availed themselves of a fair wind from the south, passed through the Straits, and the favourable breeze still continuing, they were at anchor “next day” in the harbour of Puteoli.

Puteoli, now Pozzuoli, was situated at the northern curve of that loveliest of all bays, the Bay of Naples, which extends from twenty-five to thirty miles across: the northern promontory being called the Promontory of Misenum; the southern, that of Minerva. As Paul and his fellow-passengers passed the latter, the rocky island of Capreae, with its white cliffs and rugged outline, must have been close at their right. It seemed to have been placed by nature as a barrier to check the tempest, and protect the interior of the bay from its fury.* But it recalled sadder thoughts, as blackened with the dreadful sins and crimes of the Emperor Tiberius. He was one of those of whom the Apostle speaks as “being past feeling, having given themselves over to licentiousness to work all uncleanness with greediness.” Paul must have gazed with horror on the precipice from which the monster used to hurl, after fearful torture, the victims of his cruelty, while hired ruffians were waiting in boats at the foot of the rock to despatch them with oars and bludgeons.*

They have entered the lovely Bay of Naples. No wonder the Romans selected Venus, the fabled goddess of love and beauty, to preside over the baths, fountains, and groves of this delicious shore. “A sky for ever serene — seas never ruffled — perpetual spring and eternal verdure, may be supposed to have allured the goddess to her new aDode.”t The most prominent object in the landscape was Vesuvius, — not, as now, the angry guardian of the scene, but a soft and beautiful mountain with vine-clad sides. Herculaneum and Pompeii, now dug from their bed of lava and ashes, were then sleeping in quiet grandeur at the foot of the mountain. But a short time after Paul gazed on them from the “Castor and Pollux,” they were entombed in their lava sepulchre; and the historian Josephus mentions that, among others who were buried in this living grave were Drusilla and her little one, before whom and her husband Felix the Apostle had so recently reasoned of a still more terrible “judgment to come.” X

We may imagine the scene as the Egyptian corn- vessel

* Suetonius’s Life of Tiberius.

t Eustace’s Classical Tour, vol. i. p. 374.

J Howson and Conybeare, vol. ii. p. 360.

approached the harbour of Puteoli. Crowds of people would be loitering about the docks, watching its approach. This old seaport was situated on a smaller but scarce less beautiful bay of blue water, running five miles northward from the larger one, sheltered by the promontory of Misenum from the south wind. While Puteoli was built on the eastern side, the well-known Baite (the great resort for people of fashion at particular seasons from Rome) occupied the west. Puteoli looked across to the elegant villas of this “Roman Brighton,” — the marine palace of Nero rising conspicuously, among myrtle-trees and orange-groves, to the left.

Paul must have gazed upon those magnificent buildings, the remains of which the modern traveller sees in fine weather down in the clear water, which has now encroached upon the old shore; or rather, they are parts of those dwellings to which Horace humorously refers, when he speaks of the Romans as not being content with the space the land gives them, they must needs encroach on the territory of the sea: —

“And though the waves indignant roar,
Forward you ui’ge the Baian shore;
While earth’s too narrow bounds in vain
Your guilty progress would restrain.” *

From Puteoli, an artificial mole jutted out far into the sea, worthy, from its dimensions, of belonging to the port of the world’s capital. Puteoli indeed was the great “sea-gateway” to the imperial city. The grainwaggons, that fed the many thousands within the walls of Rome, passed through its streets; others were filled with the finer sorts of wood, brought by vessels from

* See Eustace’s Classical Tour, p. 373.

Africa to make furniture for the Roman houses; others with blocks of marble and granite, from African and Asiatic quarries, to be fashioned into baths or statuary for the adornment of Roman palaces. ‘There are still seventeen piers of the ancient mole remaining, within which the merchant-vessels rode at anchor, and on which stood the lighthouse.

We are told by Seneca, that when an Alexandrian corn-ship hove in sight, they were, unlike other vessels, privileged to enter the bay in full sail; all others were compelled to lower their topsail. When the “Castor and Pollux,” therefore, was seen entering with her sails fully spread to the breeze, we may imagine the crowd at the pier assembling to receive her, and see her cargo and crew disembarked. We may picture to ourselves the Great Apostle standing on the deck of the vessel, as the shores of illustrious Italy first opened to him! In entering the Piraeus at Athens, he had felt himself going among the world’s sages and philosophers; here, it was amid the lavish opulence and splendour of the Mistress of Kingdoms. The power and wealth of Rome glittered around that beautiful bay. The first object probably his eye rested on, after passing the promontory of Misenum, wras the Roman navy riding at anchor, — next, the palace of Baulos which we have just mentioned, — then villa on villa at Bai?e. If the day was calm, hundreds of pleasure-boats and yachts would be studding the bay, with their white sails and gaily-coloured pennons. At last, entering the harbour of Puteoli, amid the clattering of ship-hammers and the heavy roll of laden waggons, the busy hum of ten thousand voices in the Latin tongue intimated that they were nearing one of the two “Liverpools of Italy,” of which Ostia, at the mouth of the Tiber, was the other. Of the two, however, Puteoli was the more important; it admitted to its port vessels of dimensions of which Ostia could not boast.*

Josephus informs us, that from the connexion of its trade with Alexandria and the surrounding eastern countries, there were many Jews residing at Puteoli. The Great Apostle found also Christian disciples. They had been long anxiously expecting to see his face; now their fondest wishes were gratified. He came, indeed, “bearing in his body the marks of the Lord Jesus.” He was not then the bold and vigorous Roman citizen who had stood, a few years before, on Mars’ Hill among Grecian sages; he was now a prisoner chained to a soldier’s arm, wan and weary after a voyage chequered with so many disasters; but he was still “strong” as ever “in the Lord, and in the power of His might;” and though moral storms, more fearful far than what he had undergone in the Sea of Adria, might be in reserve fcfr him, he could look calm and undismayed, amid them all, towards the better haven above, and feel that that God, who had made good His promise in the one, would be equally faithful regarding the other.

It was indeed a memorable day, in the annals of the infant Church, which brought its great ambassador to the shores of imperial Italy — to the very bay, also, which was fresh with the footprints of Augustus and Cicero, Horace, Virgil, and Maecenas. The harbour of Puteoli had, 250 years before the time of Paul, witnessed an imposing spectacle in the landing of the embassy from Carthage at the close of the second Punic

* See Howson, Lewin, and Olshausen.

war, to sue for peace at the gates of the capital; but there was a truer moral grandeur in the arrival of this poor Voyager, whose errand, from a mightier than earthly court, was, not to sue for peace, but to proclaim, in the name of the King of kings, the only true peace for men and for nations — “peace through the blood of the Cross.”

No sooner did he arrive, than tidings were sent of the event to the brethren in Rome. The Puteoli Christians requested that he might be allowed to remain a few days with them. Julius, who owed, in common with all the crew, such a debt of gratitude to the prisoner, consented.

We shall close this chapter, leaving the Apostle to enjoy this short while of quiet in this bustling city, before setting out on the last stage of his journey to the world’s great capital.