The captain of the vessel and the man Whose was the vessel, these, with Julius too, Roman centurion as he was in charge, Grouped themselves close by Paul and heard his word And had it heeded without stay by all. "I shall be last to leave the ship," Paul cried, "Do therefore ye the things that I advise. The women first. Lady Drusilla, thou Commit thyself to four picked sailors, these"-- The master of the vessel chose them out-- "Two soldiers with them--Julius, by thy leave And of thy choice--and on this ample spar Supported thou shalt safely come to land; And, Madam, thy little son shall go with thee." They lashed them to the timber, lowered it fair (With Felix desperately hugging it, The image of a sordid craven fear); The men detailed leapt overboard to it, And steering it as they could with feet and hands Let the sea wave on wave wash it ashore: She was indignant to be rescued so, But by abrupt necessity was tamed. "Let me, I pray thee, save thy sister, Paul," Said Sergius Paulus, who, assuming yea, Forthwith led Rachel--she with such a grace Of confidence in him as made him strong Following--to where a fragment of the deck Disjointed in the vessel's agony Lay loosened, which he clove and wrenched away; Then watching when the vessel listed right And the sea met it with a slope of wave, They, this beneath them, clinging to it, slid Down the steep floor into the frothing brine Stephen was by and helped them make the launch. Sergius, from the side opposite to her-- To steady the light wreckage all he might Lest wanting balance it should overturn-- Reaching across, kept Rachel's fingers clasped In hold upon the wavering wood, until, What with his oarage and the wash of waves, They found a melting foothold on the sand.