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NOSTROMO
He had discovered a complete singleness of motive behind
the varied manifestations of a consistent character. This was
why the man remained so astonishingly simple in the jealous greatness of his conceit. And now there was a complication. It was evident that he resented having been given a task
in which there were so many chances of failure. «I wonder»,
thought Decoud, «how he would behave if I were not here».
He heard Nostromo mutter again, «No! there is no room for
fear on this lighter. Courage itself does not seem good enough.
I have a good eye and a steady hand; no man can say he ever
saw me tired or uncertain what to do; but por Dios, D on Martin, I have been sent out into this black calm on a business
where neither a good eye, nor a steady hand, nor judgment
are any use…». He swore a string of oaths in Spanish and Italian under his breath. «Nothing but sheer desperati on will do
for this affair».
These words were in strange contrast to the prevailing
peace – to this almost solid stillness of the gulf. A shower fell
with an abrupt whispering sound all round the boat, and Decoud took off his hat, and, letting his head get wet, felt greatly
refreshed. Presently a steady little draught of air caressed his
cheek. The lighter began to move, but the shower distanced it.
The drops ceased to fall up on his head and hands, the whispering died out in the distance. Nostromo emitted a grunt of
satisfaction, and grasping the tiller, chirruped softly, as sailors do, to encourage the wind. Never for the last three days
had Decoud felt less the need for what the Capataz would
call desperation.
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JOSEPH CONRAD
«I fancy I hear another shower on the water», he observed
in a tone of quiet content. «I hope it will catch us up».
Nostromo ceased chirrupingat once. «You hear another
shower?» he said, doubtfully. A sort of thinning of the darkness seemed to have taken place, and Decoud could see now
the outline of his companion’s fi gure, and even the sail came
out of the night like a square block of dense snow.
The sound which Decoud had detected came along the water harshly. Nostromo recognized that noise partaking of a hiss
and a rustle which spreads out on all sides of a steamer making her way through a smooth water on a quiet night. It could
be nothing else but the captured transport with troops from
Esmeralda. She carried no lights. The noise of her steaming,
growing louder every minute, would stopat times altogether,
and then begin again abruptly, and sound startlingly nearer;
as if that invisible vessel, whose positi on could not be precisely guessed, were making straight for the lighter. Meantime,
that last kept on sailing slowly and noiselessly before a breeze
so faint that it was only by leaning over the side and feeling
the water slip through his fi ngers that Decoud convinced himself they were movingat all. His drowsy feeling had departed.
He was glad to know that the lighter was moving. After so
much stillness the noise of the steamer seemed uproarious and
distracting. There was a weirdness in not being able to see her.
Suddenly all was still. She had stopped, but so close to them
that the steam, blowing off, sent its rumbling vibrati on right
over their heads.
«They are trying to make out where they are», said Decoud in a whisper. Again he leaned over and put his fi ngers
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NOSTROMO
into the water. «We are moving quite smartly», he informed
Nostromo.
«We seem to be crossing her bows», said the Capataz in
a cautious tone. «But this is a blind game with death. Moving on is of no use. We mustn’t be seen or heard».
His whisper was hoarse with excitement. Of all his face
there was nothing visible but a gleam of white eyeballs. His
fi ngers gripped Decoud’s shoulder. «That is the only way to
save this treasure from this steamer full of soldiers. Any other would have carried lights. But you observe there is not
a gleam to show us where she is».
Decoud stood as if paralyzed; only his thoughts were wildly active. In the space of a second he remembered the desolate glance of Antonia as he left herat the bedside of her
father in the gloomy house of Avellanos, with shuttered windows, but all the doors standing open, and deserted by all
the servants except an old negroat the gate. He remembered
the Casa Gould on his last visit, the arguments, the tones of his
voice, the impenetrable attitude of Charles, Mrs. Gould’s face
so blanched with anxiety and fatigue that her eyes seemed to
have changed colour, appearing nearly black by contrast. Even
whole sentences of the proclamati on which he meant to make
Barrios issue from his headquartersat Cayta as so on as he got
there passed through his mind; the very germ of the new State,
the Separationist proclamati on which he had tried before he
left to read hurriedly to D on Jose, stretched out on his bed under the fi xed gaze of his daughter. God knows whether the old
statesman had understood it; he was unable to speak, but he
had certainly lifted his arm off the coverlet; his hand had moved
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JOSEPH CONRAD
as if to make the sign of the cross in the air, a gesture of blessing, of consent. Decoud had that very draft in his pocket, written in pencil on several loose sheets of paper, with the heavily-printed heading, «Administrati on of the San Tome Silver
Mine. Sulaco. Republic of Costaguana». He had written it furiously, snatching page after page on Charles Gould’s table.
Mrs. Gould had looked several times over his shoulder as he
wrote; but the Senor Administrador, standing straddle-legged,
would not even glanceat it when it was fi nished. He had waved
it away fi rmly. It must have been scorn, and not caution, since
he never made a remark about the use of the Administration’s
paper for such a compromising document. And that showed
his disdain, the true English disdain of comm on prudence,
as if everything outside the range of their own thoughts and
feelings were unworthy of serious recognition. Decoud had
the time in a second or two to become furiously angry with
Charles Gould, and even resentful against Mrs. Gould, in
whose care, tacitly it is true, he had left the safety of Antonia.
Better perish a thousand times than owe your preservation to
such people, he exclaimed mentally. The grip of Nostromo’s
fi ngers never removed from his shoulder, tightening fi ercely,
recalled him to himself.
«The darkness is our friend», the Capataz murmured into
his ear. «I am going to lower the sail, and trust our escape to
this black gulf. No eyes could make us out lying silent with
a naked mast. I will do it now, before this steamer closes still
more up on us. The faint creak of a block would betray us and
the San Tome treasure into the hands of those thieves».
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NOSTROMO
He moved about as warily as a cat. Decoud heard no sound;
and it was only by the disappearance of the square blotch of
darkness that he knew the yard had come down, lowered as
carefully as if it had been made of glass. Next moment he heard
Nostromo’s quiet breathing by his side.
«You had better not moveat all from where you are, D on
Martin», advised the Capataz, earnestly. «You might stumble
or displace something which would make a noise. The sweeps
and the punting poles are lying about. Move not for your life.
Por Dios, D on Martin», he went on in a keen but friendly
whisper, «I am so desperate that if I didn’t know your worship to be a man of courage, capable of standing stock still
whatever happens, I would drive my knife into your heart».
A deathlike stillness surrounded the lighter. It was diffi cult to believe that there was near a steamer full of men with
many pairs of eyes peering from her bridge for some hint of
land in the night. Her steam had ceased blowing off, and she
remained stopped too far off apparently for any other sound to
reach the lighter.
«Perhaps you would, Capataz», Decoud began in a whisper. «However, you need not trouble. There are other things
than the fear of your knife to keep my heart steady. It shall not
betray you. Only, have you forgotten –»
«I spoke to you openly as to a man as desperate as myself», explained the Capataz. «The silver must be saved from
the Monterists. I told Captain Mitchell three times that I preferred to go alone. I told D on Carlos Gould, too. It was in
the Casa Gould. They had sent for me. The ladies were there;
and when I tried to explain why I did not wish to have you with
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JOSEPH CONRAD
me, they promised me, both of them, great rewards for your
safety. A strange way to talk to a man you are sending out to
an almost certain death. Those gentlefolk do not seem to have
sense enough to understand what they are giving one to do.
I told them I could do nothing for you. You would have been
safer with the bandit Hernandez. It would have been possible to ride out of the town with no greater risk than a chance
shot sent after you in the dark. But it was as if they had been
deaf. I had to promise I would wait for you under the harbour
gate. I did wait. And now because you are a brave man you are
as safe as the silver. Neither more nor less».
At that moment, as if by way of comment up on Nostromo’s words, the invisible steamer went aheadat half speed
only, as could be judged by the leisurely beat of her propeller. The sound shifted its place markedly, but without coming nearer. It even grew a little more distant right abeam of
the lighter, and then ceased again.
«They are trying for a sight of the Isabels», muttered Nostromo, «in order to make for the harbour in a straight line
and seize the Custom House with the treasure in it. Have you
ever seen the Commandant of Esmeralda, Sotillo? A handsome fellow, with a soft voice. When I fi rst came here I used to
see him in the Calle talking to the senoritasat the windows of
the houses, and showing his white teeth all the time. But one of
my Cargadores, who had been a soldier, told me that he had
once ordered a man to be fl ayed alive in the remote Campo,
where he was sent recruiting amongst the people of the Estancias. It has never entered his head that the Compania had
a man capable of baffl ing his game».
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NOSTROMO
The murmuring loquacity of the Capataz disturbed Decoud like a hint of weakness. And yet, talkative resoluti on may
be as genuine as grim silence.
«Sotillo is not baffl ed so far», he said. «Have you forgotten
that crazy man forward?»
Nostromo had not forgotten Senor Hirsch. He reproached
himself bitterly for not having visited the lighter carefully before leaving the wharf. He reproached himself for not having
stabbed and fl ung Hirsch overboardat the very moment of
discovery without even lookingat his face. That would have
been consistent with the desperate character of the affair.
Whatever happened, Sotillo was already baffl ed. Even if that
wretch, now as silent as death, did anything to betray the nearness of the lighter, Sotillo – if Sotillo it was in command of
the troops on board – would be still baffl ed of his plunder.
«I have an axe in my hand», Nostromo whispered, wrathfully, «that in three strokes would cut through the side
down to the water’s edge. Moreover, each lighter has a plug
in the stern, and I know exactly where it is. I feel it under
the sole of my foot».
Decoud recognized the ring of genuine determinati on in
the nervous murmurs, the vindictive excitement of the famous
Capataz. Before the steamer, guided by a shriek or two (for
there could be no more than that, Nostromo said, gnashing his
teeth audibly), could fi nd the lighter there would be plenty of
time to sink this treasure tied up round his neck.
The last words he hissed into Decoud’s ear. Decoud said
nothing. He was perfectly convinced. The usual characteristic quietness of the man was gone. It was not equal to the sit-
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JOSEPH CONRAD
uati on as he conceived it. Something deeper, something unsuspected by everyone, had come to the surface. Decoud, with
careful movements, slipped off his overcoat and divested himself of his boots; he did not consider himself bound in honour to sink with the treasure. His object was to get down to
Barrios, in Cayta, as the Capataz knew very well; and he, too,
meant, in his own way, to put into that attempt all the desperati on of which he was capable. Nostromo muttered, «True,
true! You are a politician, senor. Rejoin the army, and start
another revolution». He pointed out, however, that there was
a little boat belonging to every lighter fi t to carry two men, if
not more. Theirs was towing behind.
Of that Decoud had not been aware. Of course, it was too
dark to see, and it was only when Nostromo put his hand
up on its painter fastened to a cleat in the stern that he experienced a full measure of relief. The prospect of fi nding himself
in the water and swimming, overwhelmed by ignorance and
darkness, probably in a circle, till he sank from exhaustion, was
revolting. The barren and cruel futility of such an end intimidated his affectati on of careless pessimism. In comparison to
it, the chance of being left fl oating in a boat, exposed to thirst,
hunger, discovery, imprisonment, execution, presented itself
with an aspect of amenity worth securing evenat the cost of
some self-contempt. He did not accept Nostromo’s proposal
that he should get into the boatat once. «Something sudden
may overwhelm us, senor», the Capataz remarked promising
faithfully,at the same time, to let go the painterat the moment
when the necessity became manifest.
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NOSTROMO
But Decoud assured him lightly that he did not mean to
take to the boat till the very last moment, and that then he
meant the Capataz to come along, too. The darkness of the gulf
was no longer for him the end of all things. It was part of a living world since, pervading it, failure and death could be feltat your elbow. Andat the same time it was a shelter. He exulted in its impenetrable obscurity. «Like a wall, like a wall»,
he muttered to himself.
The only thing which checked his confi dence was
the thought of Senor Hirsch. Not to have bound and gagged
him seemed to Decoud now the height of improvident folly.
As long as the miserable creature had the power to raise a yell
he was a constant danger. His abject terror was mute now, but
there was no saying from what cause it might suddenly fi nd
vent in shrieks.
This very madness of fear which both Decoud and Nostromo had seen in the wild and irrational glances, and in the continuous twitchings of his mouth, protected Senor Hirsch from
the cruel necessities of this desperate affair. The moment of
silencing him for ever had passed. As Nostromo remarked, in
answer to Decoud’s regrets, it was too late! It could not be done
without noise, especially in the ignorance of the man’s exact
position. Wherever he had elected to crouch and tremble, it
was too hazardous to go near him. He would begin probably to
yell for mercy. It was much better to leave him quite alone
since he was keeping so still. But to trust to his silence became
every moment a greater strain up on Decoud’s composure.
«I wish, Capataz, you had not let the right moment pass»,
he murmured.
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JOSEPH CONRAD
«What! To silence him for ever? I thought it good to hear
fi rst how he came to be here. It was too strange. Who could
imagine that it was all an accident? Afterwards, senor, when
I saw you giving him water to drink, I could not do it. Not
after I had seen you holding up the can to his lips as though
he were your brother. Senor, that sort of necessity must not be
thought of too long. And yet it would have been no cruelty to
take away from him his wretched life. It is nothing but fear.
Your compassi on saved him then, D on Martin, and now it is
too late. It couldn’t be done without noise».
In the steamer they were keeping a perfect silence, and
the stillness was so profound that Decoud felt as if the slightest sound conceivable must travel unchecked and audible to
the end of the world. What if Hirsch coughed or sneezed?
To feel himselfat the mercy of such an idiotic contingency was
too exasperating to be looked up on with irony. Nostromo, too,
seemed to be getting restless. Was it possible, he asked himself,
that the steamer, fi nding the night too dark altogether, intended to remain stopped where she was till daylight? He began to think that this, after all, was the real danger. He was
afraid that the darkness, which was his protection, would, in
the end, cause his undoing.
Sotillo, as Nostromo had surmised, was in command on
board the transport. The events of the last forty-eight hours
in Sulaco were not known to him; neither was he aware that
the telegraphist in Esmeralda had managed to warn his colleague in Sulaco. Like a good many offi cers of the troops
garrisoning the province, Sotillo had been infl uenced in
his adopti on of the Ribierist cause by the belief that it had
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