At daybreak the crew makes a decision based on their observations. They "tried to recognize" the land (conative imperfect; Williams 1985:441). All they can make out is a bay with a sandy beach, but they hope that here they can "beach the ship." That is their plan, if they "might be able" to pull it off (dynainto: the optative mood of personal wish shows the level of uncertainty under which they continue to labor; compare 27:12-13).

They "cut loose the anchors," or simply let the anchor ropes fall into the sea (Haenchen 1971:707). They untie the ropes that held the rudders. These two large paddles, secured during the storm, are now lowered into place on each side of the ship at the stern to provide steerage (Casson 1971:228). They hoist the foresail to the wind; this sail sloped forward almost like a bowsprit and also provided steerage (Lake and Cadbury 1979:338). Then the crew "began to head" for the beach (inceptive imperfect; Kistemaker 1990:941).

At the entrance to the bay they unexpectedly struck a sandbar; today the shoal is thirty-nine feet below the surface, but then it probably stood in only thirteen feet of water. The ship effectively ran aground, for the bow stuck fast and would not move. The rocks of Malta disintegrate into extremely minute particles of sand and clay when acted upon by currents or by surface agitation. They form a tenacious deposit of clay (Smith 1978:144). The combination of the bay floor's composition and the direction of the wind made this sandbar the ship's final resting place. But the sea was not through with the ship. The pounding of the surf gradually broke up the stern (continuous imperfect). Paul's prophecy was coming true: only the ship will be destroyed (27:22).

The soldiers knew that they could pay with their lives for any prisoners who escaped when all abandoned ship for land. So they planned to kill the prisoners. But the centurion had other plans (compare previous Roman protection: 21:33-36; 23:10, 23; 25:1-12). To spare [diasosai] Paul, he thwarted their plan and ordered those who could swim to jump overboard first and get to land. In a very real sense Paul was a "saving presence," for saving him automatically meant saving the other prisoners. Thus as a mediator of physical preservation, Paul again becomes a living parable of spiritual salvation, which is just as certain when persons take refuge in the name Paul preaches (16:31). Whether swimming, floating on planks (which may have been used to hold the grain cargo in place) or riding on the backs of swimmers, everyone reached land in safety.

The comforting prophetic word had been fulfilled to the last letter (27:22, 34). The strongest of natural forces threatening Paul's existence had been unable to thwart God's providential purposes for him. Solidarity with Paul meant physical life. For those considering the claims of Christ, the question is, If God's messenger can be so salubrious to old salts, what can his message do for me?