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. “Come,” said he to himself “my loss has saved all these poor souls on board this ship. So be it! Heaven's will be done! I must bustle, or else go mad.” He turned to and worked like a horse: and with his own hands helped the men to rig parallel ropes--a substitute for bulwarks--till the perspiration ran down him. Bayliss now reported the well nearly dry, and Dodd was about to bear up and make sail again, when one of the ship-boys, a little fellow with a bright eye and a chin like a monkey's, came up to him and said-- “Please, captain!” Then glared with awe at what he had done, and broke down. “Well, my little man?” said Dodd gently. Thus encouraged, the boy gave a great gulp, and burst in in a brogue, “Och your arnr, sure there's no rudder on her at all barrin the tiller.” “What d'ye mean?” “Don't murder me, your arnr, and I'll tell ye. It's meself looked over the starrn just now; and I seen there was no rudder at all at all. Mille diaoul, sis I; ye old bitch, I'll tell his arur what y'are after, slipping your rudder like my granny's list shoe, I will.” Dodd ran to the helm and looked down; the brat was right: the blows which had so endangered the ship, had broken the rudder, and the sea had washed away more than half of it. The sight and the reflection made him faintish for a moment. Death passing so very close to a man sickens him _afterwards,_ unless he has the luck to be brainless. “What is your name, urchin?” “Ned Murphy, sir.” “Very well, Murphy, then you are a fine little fellow, and have wiped all our eyes in the ship: run and send the carpenter aft.” “Ay, ay, sir.”