"
It was Fullalove scanning the horizon with his famous glass.
"Foundered? Who?" said Dodd; though he did not care much who sank, who
swam. Then he remembered the vessel, whose flashing guns had shed a human
ray on the unearthly horror of the black hurricane. He looked all round.
Blank.
Ay, she had perished with all hands. The sea had swallowed her, and
spared him--ungrateful.
This turned his mind sharply. Suppose the _Agra_ had gone down, the money
would be lost as now, and his life into the bargain--a life dearer to all
at home than millions of gold: he prayed inwardly to Heaven for gratitude
and goodness to feel its mercy. This softened him a little; and his heart
swelled so, he wished he was a woman to cry over his children's loss for
an hour, and then shake all off and go through his duty somehow; for now
he was paralysed, and all seemed ended. Next, nautical superstition
fastened on him. That pocket-book of his was Jonah: it had to go or else
the ship; the moment it did go, the storm had broken as by magic.
Now Superstition is generally stronger than rational Religion, whether
they lie apart or together in one mind; and this superstitious notion did
something toward steeling the poor man.
Pages:
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370