 CHAPTER VIII PART I For a moment before this extraordinary find they forgot their own concerns and sensations. Lord Hirsch's sensations as he lay there must have been those of extreme terror. For a long time he refused to give a sign of life, till at last Dekud's objugations and perhaps more Nostromo's impatient suggestion that he should be thrown overboard as he seemed to be dead, induced him to raise one eyelid first and then the other. It appeared that he had never found a safe opportunity to leave Sulaco. He lodged with Anzani, the universal storekeeper on the Plaza Mayor. But when the riot broke out he had made his escape from his host's house before daylight and in such a hurry that he had forgotten to put on his shoes. He had run out impulsively in his socks and with his hat in his hand, into the garden of Anzani's house. Fear gave him the necessary agility to climb over several low walls and afterwards he blundered into the overgrown cloisters of the ruined Franciscan convent in one of the by-streets. He forced himself into the midst of matted bushes with the recklessness of desperation, and this accounted for his scratched body and his torn clothing. He lay hidden there all day, his tongue cleaving to the roof of his mouth, with all the intensity of thirst and gendered by heat and fear. Three times different bands of men invaded the place with shouts and deprecations, looking for Father Corbilan, but towards the end of the evening still lying on his face and the bushes, he thought he would die from the fear of silence. He was not very clear as to what had induced him to leave the place, but evidently he had got out and slunk successfully out of town along the deserted back lanes. He wandered in the darkness near the railway so maddened with apprehension that he dared not even approach the fires of the pickets of Italian workmen guarding the line. He had a vague idea evidently of finding refuge in the railway yards, but the dogs rushed in upon embarking, men began to shout, a shot was fired at random. He fled away from the gates. By the nearest accident as it happened, he took the direction of the OSN Company's offices. Twice he stumbled upon the bodies of men killed during the day, but everything living frightened him much more. He crouched, crept, crawled, made dashes, guided by a sort of animal instinct, keeping away from every light and from every sound of voices. His idea was to throw himself at the feet of Captain Mitchell and beg for shelter in the Company's offices. It was all dark there as he approached on his hands and knees. But suddenly someone on guard challenged loudly, Gianvive! There were more dead men lying about and he flattened himself down at once by the side of a cold corpse. He heard a voice saying, Here is one of those wounded rascals crawling about. Shall I go and finish him? And another voice objected that it was not safe to go out without a lantern upon such an errand. Perhaps it was only some negro liberal looking for a chance to stick a knife into the stomach of an honest man. Hirsch didn't stay to hear any more, but crawling away to the end of the wharf hid himself amongst a lot of empty casks. After a while some people came along talking and with glowing cigarettes. He did not stop to ask himself whether they would be likely to do him any harm, but bolted incontinently along the jetty, saw a lighter lying moored at the end and threw himself into it. In his desire to find cover he crept right forward under the half-deck and he had remained there more dead than alive, suffering agonies of hunger and thirst and almost fainting with terror, when he heard numerous footsteps and the voices of the Europeans who came in a body escorting the wagon-load of treasure pushed along the rails by a squad of cargadores. He understood perfectly what was being done from the talk, but did not disclose his presence from the fear that he would not be allowed to remain. His only idea at the time, overpowering and masterful, was to get away from this terrible Sulaco. And now he regretted it very much. He had heard Nostromo talk to Dekud and wished himself back on shore. He did not desire to be involved in any desperate affair in a situation where one could not run away. The involuntary groans of his anguished spirit had betrayed him to the sharp ears of the Capitas. They had propped him up in a sitting posture against the side of the lighter, and he went on with the moaning account of his adventures till his voice broke, his head fell forward. Water! He whispered with difficulty. Dekud held one of the cans to his lips. He revived after an extraordinarily short time and scrambled up to his feet wildly. Nostromo, in an angry and threatening voice, ordered him forward. Hirsch was one of those men whom fear lashes like a whip, and he must have had an appalling idea of the Capitas's ferocity. He displayed an extraordinary agility in disappearing forward into the darkness. They heard him getting over the tarpaulin, then there was the sound of a heavy fall, followed by a weary sigh. Afterwards all was still in the forepart of the lighter as though he had killed himself in his headlong tumble. Nostromo shouted in a menacing voice, "'Lie still there! Do not move a limb! If I hear as much as a loud breath from you I shall come over there and put a bullet through your head.' The mere presence of a coward, however passive, brings an element of treachery into a dangerous situation. Nostromo's nervous impatience passed into gloomy thoughtfulness. Dekud, in an undertone as if speaking to himself, remarked that after all this bizarre event made no great difference. He could not conceive what harm the man could do. At most he would be in the way, like an inanimate and useless object, like a block of wood, for instance. "'I would think twice before getting rid of a piece of wood,' said Nostromo calmly. Something may happen unexpectedly where you could make use of it, but in an affair like ours a man like this ought to be thrown overboard. Even if he were as brave as a lion we would not want him here. We are not running away for our lives, senor, there is no harm in a brave man trying to save himself with ingenuity and courage, but you have heard his tale no more, teen. His being here is a miracle of fear," Nostromo paused. "'There is no room for fear in this lighter,' he added through his teeth. Dekud had no answer to make. It was not a position for argument, for a display of scruples or feelings. There were a thousand ways in which a panic-stricken man could make himself dangerous. It was evident that Hirsch could not be spoken to, reasoned with, or persuaded, into a rational line of conduct. The story of his own escape demonstrated that clearly enough. Dekud thought it was a thousand pities the wretched nut died of fright. Nature, who had made him what he was, seemed to have calculated cruelty how much he could bear in the way of atrocious anguish without actually expiring. Some compassion was due to so much terror. Dekud, though imaginative enough for sympathy, resolved not to interfere with any action that Nostromo would take. But Nostromo did nothing, and the fate of Senor Hirsch remained suspended in the darkness of the gulf at the mercy of events which could not be foreseen. The capitas, extending his hand, put out the candle suddenly. It was to Dekud as if his companion had destroyed by a single touch the world of affairs of loves of revolution where his complacent superiority analyzed fearlessly all motives and all passions, including his own. He gasped a little. Dekud was affected by the novelty of his position. Intellectually self-confident he suffered from being deprived of the only weapon he could use with effect. No intelligence could penetrate the darkness of the classic gulf. There remained only one thing he was certain of, and that was the overweening vanity of his companion. It was direct, uncomplicated, naive, and effectual. Dekud, who had been making use of him, had tried to understand his man thoroughly. 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 Dekud, how he would behave if I were not here. He heard no stromo 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 di os non mortine, 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 desperation 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 Dekud 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 upon his head and hands. The whispering died out in the distance. No stromo admitted a grunt of satisfaction, and grasping the tiller, chirrupt softly as sailors do to encourage the wind. Never for the last three days had Dekud felt less the need for what the capitas would call desperation. I fancy I hear another shower on the water. He observed in a tone of quiet content. I hope it will catch us up. No stromos ceased chirping at once. You hear another shower. He said doubtfully, a sort of thinning of the darkness seemed to have taken place, and Dekud could see now the outline of his companion's figure, and even the sail came out of the night like a square block of dense snow. The sound which Dekud had detected came along the water harshly. No stromo 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 stop at times altogether and then begin again abruptly, and sound startlingly nearer, as if that invisible vessel whose position 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 slipped through his fingers that Dekud convinced himself they were moving at 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 vibration right over their heads. They are trying to make out where they are, said Dekud in a whisper. Again he leaned over and put his fingers into the water. We are moving quite smartly. He informed Nostromo. We seem to be crossing her boughs, said the capitas 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 fingers gripped Dekud'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. Dekud 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 her at the bedside of her father in the gloomy house of Avianos, with shuttered windows but all the doors standing open, and deserted by all the servants except an old negro at the gate. He remembered the Casaguld 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 color, appearing nearly black by contrast. Even whole sentences of the proclamation which he meant to make Barrios' issue from his headquarters at Caitha as soon as he got there passed through his mind. The very germ of the new state, the separationist proclamation which he had tried before he left to read hurriedly to Don Jose, stretching out on his bed under the fixed 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 as if to make the sign of the cross in the air, a gesture of blessing of consent. Dekoud had that very draft in his pocket, written in pencil on several loose sheets of paper with the heavily printed heading, Administration of the Santo May 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 Señor Administrador's standing straddle-leg would not even glance at it when it was finished. He had waved it away firmly. 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 common prudence as if everything outside the range of their own thoughts and feelings were unworthy of serious recognition. Dekoud 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 fingers never removed from his shoulder, tightening fiercely, recalled him to himself. The darkness is our friend. The capitas 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 upon us. The faint creak of a block would betray us, and the Santaway treasure into the hands of those thieves. He moved about as warily as a cat. Dekoud 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 move at all from where you are, Domartine. Advise the capitas 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, Domartine. 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 death-like stillness surrounded the lighter. It was difficult 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, the capitas. They could be gathered 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 capitas. The silver must be saved from the Monterres. I told Captain Mitchell three times that I preferred to go alone. I told Don Coro's school too I 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 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 gentle folk 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. It 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 upon Nostromo's words the invisible steamer went ahead at 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 a beam of the lighter and then ceased again. They are trying for a sight of the Isabels, mother 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 the soft voice? When I first came here I used to see him in the calle, talking to the senoitas at 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 flayed alive in the Romual Campo where he was sent recruiting amongst the people of the Estancias. It has never entered his head that the compagnia had a man capable of baffling his game. The murmuring loquacity of the capitas disturbed their crewed like a hint of weakness, and yet talkative resolution may be as genuine as grim silence. Sotillo has not baffled 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 flung Hirsch overboard at the very moment of discovery without even looking at his face. It would have been consistent with the desperate character of the affair. Whatever happened Sotillo was already baffled. 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 still be baffled 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. Dekud recognized the ring of genuine determination in the nervous murmurs, the vindictive excitement of the famous capitas. Before the steamer, guided by a shriek or two, for there could be no more than that, Nostromo sat gnashing his teeth audibly, could find the lighter, there would be plenty of time to sink this treasure tied up round his neck. The last words he hissed into Dekud's ear. Dekud said nothing. He was perfectly convinced. The usual characteristic quietness of the man was gone, it was not equal to the situation as he conceived it, something deeper, something unsuspected by everyone had come to the surface. Dekud, 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 and Caita, as the capitas knew very well, and he too meant in his own way to put into that attempt all the desperation 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 fit to carry two men, if not more. There's was towing behind. Of that, Dekud had not been aware. Of course it was too dark to see and it was only when Nostromo put his hand upon its painter fastened to a cleat in the stern that he experienced a full measure of relief. The prospect of finding 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 affectation of careless pessimism. In comparison to it, the chance of being left floating in a boat, exposed to thirst, hunger, discovery, imprisonment, execution, guided itself in an aspect of amenity worth securing even at the cost of some self-contempt. He did not accept Nostromo's proposal that he should get into the boat at once. Something sudden may overwhelm us, senor. The capitas remarked, promising faithfully at the same time, to let go the painter at the moment when the necessity became manifest. But Dekud assured him lightly that he did not mean to take the boat till the very last moment and that then he meant the capitas 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 at failure and death could be felt at your elbow, and at the same time it was a shelter he exalted in its impenetrable obscurity, like a wall, like a wall he muttered to himself. The only thing which checked his confidence was the thought of senor Hirsch. Not to have bound and gagged him seemed to Dekud 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 find vent in shrieks. This very madness of fear which both Dekud 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 forever had passed, as Nostromo remarked in answer to Dekud'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 upon Dekud's composure. I wish, Capitas, you had not let the right moment pass," he murmured. What, to silence him forever? I thought it good to hear first 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 brothers, and your 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 compassion saved him then, no, Martine, 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 Dekud 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 himself at the mercy of such an idiotic contingency was too exasperating to be looked upon with irony. Nostromo too seemed to be getting restless. Was it possible he asked himself that the steamer, finding 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. Sotio, 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 officers of the troops garrisoning the province, Sotio had been influenced in his adoption of the Ribiarist cause by the belief that it had the enormous wealth of the Gould concession on its side. He had been one of the frequenters of the Casa Gould where he had erred his Blanco convictions and his ardour for reform, before Don José Avellanos, casting frank honest glances toward Mrs. Gould and Antonia the while. He was known to belong to a good family, persecuted and impoverished during the tyranny of Guzmán Bento. The opinions he expressed appeared eminently natural and proper in a man of his parentage and antecedence, and he was not a deceiver. It was perfectly natural for him to express elevated sentiments while his whole faculties were taken up with what seemed then a solid and practical notion. The notion that the husband of Antonia Avellanos would be, naturally, the intimate friend of the Gould concession. He even pointed this out to Ansani once, when negotiating the sixth or seventh small loan in the gloomy damp apartment with enormous iron bars behind the principal shop in the whole row under the arcades. He hinted to the universal shopkeeper at the excellent terms he was on with the emancipated senorita, who was like a sister to the English woman. He would advance one leg and put his arms akimbo, posing Franzani's inspection and fixing him with a haughty stare. Look miserable shopkeeper! How can a man like me fail with any woman, let alone an emancipated girl living in scandalous freedom, he seemed to say? His manner in the Casa Gould was, of course, very different, devoid of all truculence and even slightly mournful. Like most of his countrymen he was carried away by the sound of fine words, especially if uttered by himself. He had no convictions of any sort upon anything except as to the irresistible power of his personal advantages. But that was so firm that even Deku's appearance in Sulaco and his intimacy with the Goulds and the Avianos did not disquiet him. On the contrary he tried to make friends with that rich costa guanero from Europe in the hope of borrowing large sum by and by. The only guiding motive of his life was to get money for the satisfaction of his expensive tastes which he indulged recklessly having no self-control. He imagined himself a master of intrigue, but his corruption was simple as an animal instinct. At times in solitude he had his moments of ferocity, and also on such occasions as, for instance, when alone in a room with Anzani trying to get alone. He had talked himself into the command of the Esmeralda Garrison. That small seaport had its importance as the station of the main submarine cable connecting the occidental provinces with the outer world and the junction with it of the Sulaco branch. Don Jose Avianos proposed him, and Barrios with a rude and jarring guffaw had said, oh, let Sotillo go. He is a very good man to keep guard over the cable, and the ladies of Esmeralda ought to have their turn. Barrios, an indubitably brave man, had no great opinion of Sotillo. End of Chapter 8, Part 1. Could be kept in constant touch with the great financier, whose tacit approval made the strength of the Riberist movement. This movement had its adversaries even there. Sotillo governed Esmeralda with repressive severity till the adverse course of events upon the distant theater of civil war forced upon him the reflection that, after all, the great silver mine was fated to become the spoil of the victors. But caution was necessary. He began by assuming a dark and mysterious attitude towards the faithful Riberist municipality of Esmeralda. Later on the information that the commandant was holding assemblies of officers in the dead of night, which had leaked out somehow, caused those gentlemen to neglect their civil duties altogether and remain shut up in their houses. Suddenly one day all the letters from Sulaco by the overland courier were carried off by a file of soldiers from the post office to the comandancia. Without disguise, concealment or apology, Sotillo had heard through Keita of the final defeat of Ribera. This was the first open sign of the change in his convictions. Presently notorious Democrats who had been living till then in constant fear of arrest, leg-irons, and even floggings could be observed going in and out of the great door of the comandancia, where the horses of the orderlies doze under their heavy saddles, while the men in ragged uniforms and pointed straw hats lounge on a bench with their naked feet stuck out beyond the strip of shade, and a sentry in a red beige coat with holes at the elbows, stands at the top of the steps glaring hotly at the common people who uncover their heads to him as they pass. Sotillo's ideas did not soar above the care for his personal safety and the chance of plundering the town in his charge, but he feared that such late adhesion would earn but scant gratitude from the victors. He had believed just a little too long in the power of the Santo May Mine, the seized correspondence that confirmed his previous information of a large amount of silver ingots lying in the Sulaco Custom House. To gain possession of it would be a clear Montero's move, a sort of service that would have to be rewarded. With the silver in his hands he could make terms for himself and his soldiers. He was aware neither of the riots nor of the President's escape to Sulaco, and the close pursuit led by Montero's brother, the Garriero. The game seemed in his own hands. The initial moves were the seizure of the cable telegraph office and the securing of the government's steamer lying in the narrow creek which is the harbor of Esmeralda. The last was affected without difficulty by a company of soldiers swarming with a rush over the gangways as she lay alongside the quay. But the lieutenant charged with the duty of arresting the telegraphist halted on the way before the only cafe in Esmeralda where he distributed some brandy to his men and refreshed himself at the expense of the owner, a known bietist. The whole party became intoxicated and proceeded on their mission up the street yelling and firing random shots at the windows. This little festivity which might have turned out dangerous to the telegraphist's life enabled him in the end to send his warning to Sulaco. The lieutenant staggering upstairs with a drawn sabre was before long kissing him on both cheeks in one of those swift changes of mood peculiar to a state of drunkenness. He clasped the telegraphist close around the neck assuring him that all the officers of the Esmeralda garrison were going to be made kernels while tears of happiness streamed down his sodden face. Thus it came about that the town major coming along later found the whole party sleeping on the stairs and in passages, and the telegraphist who scorned this chance of escape very busy clicking the key of the transmitter. The major let him away bare-headed with his hands tied behind his back but concealed the truth from Sotio who remained in ignorance of the warning dispatched to Sulaco. The Colonel was not the man to let any sort of darkness stand in the way of the planned surprise. It appeared to him a dead certainty. His heart was set upon his object with an ungovernable childlike impatience. Ever since the steamer had rounded Punta Mala to enter the deeper shadow of the gulf, he had remained on the bridge in a group of officers as excited as himself. Distracted between the coaxings and menaces of Sotio and his staff, the miserable commander of the steamer kept her moving with as much prudence as they would let him exercise. Some of them had been drinking heavily, no doubt, but the prospect of laying hands on so much wealth made them absurdly foolhardy and at the same time extremely anxious. The old major of the battalion, a stupid, suspicious man who had never been afloat in his life, distinguished himself by putting out suddenly the binocle light, the only one allowed on board for the necessities of navigation. He could not understand of what use it could be for finding the way. To the vehement protestations of the ship's captain, he stamped his foot and tapped the handle of his sword. Ah ha! I have unmasked you! He cried triumphantly. You are tearing your hair out from despair at my acuteness. Am I a child to believe that a light in that brass box can show you where the harbor is? I am an old soldier I am. I can smell a traitor a league of. You wanted that gleam to betray our approach to your friend, the Englishman. A thing like that show you the way. What a miserable lie! Que picardia! You Sulaco people are all in the pay of those foreigners. You deserve to be run through the body with my sword. Other officers, crowding round, tried to calm his indignation repeating persuasively. No, no, this is an appliance of the mariners major. This is no treachery. The captain of the transport flung himself face downwards on the bridge and refused to rise. Put an end to me at once, he repeated in a stifled voice. Sotio had to interfere. The uproar and confusion on the bridge became so great that the helmsman fled from the wheel. He took refuge in the engine room and alarmed the engineers who, disregarding the threats of the soldiers, sat on guard over them, stopped the engines, protesting that they would rather be shot than run the risk of being drowned down below. This was the first time Nostromo and Deku heard the steamer stop. After order had been restored and the bendicle lamp relighted, she went ahead again, passing wide of the lighter in her search for the Isabels. The group could not be made out, and at the pitiful entreaties of the captain, Sotio let the engines to be stopped again to wait for one of those periodical lightnings of the darkness caused by the shifting of the cloud canopy spread above the waters of the gulf. Sotio on the bridge muttered from time to time angrily to the captain. After in an apologetic and cringing tone, Begged Sumer said the Colonel to take into consideration the limitations put upon human faculties by the darkness of the night. Sotio swelled with rage and impatience. It was the chance of a lifetime. If your eyes are no more used to you than this, I shall have them put out!" he yelled. The captain of the steamer made no answer. For just then the mass of the great Isabelle loomed up darkly after a passing shower, then vanished, as of swept away by a wave of greater obscurity preceding another downpour. This was enough for him. In the voice of a man come back to life again, he informed Sotio that in an hour he would be alongside the Sulaco Wharf. The ship was put then full speed on the course, and a great bustle of preparation for landing arose among the soldiers on her deck. It was heard distinctly by Dekud and Nostromo. The capitas understood its meaning. They had made out the Isabelles. And were going on now, in a straight line for Sulaco. He judged that they would pass close, but believed that lines still like this, with the sail lowered, the lighter could not be seen. No, not even if they rubbed sides with us, he muttered. The rain began to fall again, first like a wet mist, then with a heavier touch, thickening into a smart perpendicular downpour, and the hiss and thump of the approaching steamer was coming extremely near. Dekud, with his eyes full of water and lowered head, asked himself how long it would be before she drew past. When unexpectedly he felt a lurch, an inrush of foam broke swishing over the stern, simultaneously with a crack of timbers and a staggering shock. He had the impression of an angry hand laying hold of the lighter and dragging it along to destruction. The shock, of course, had knocked him down, and he found himself rolling in a lot of water at the bottom of the lighter. A violent churning went on alongside. A strange and amazed voice cried out something above him in the night. He heard a piercing shriek for help from Senor Hirsch. He kept his teeth hard set all the time. It was a collision. The steamer had struck the lighter obliquely, healing her over till she was half swamped, starting some of her timbers and swinging her head parallel to her own course with the force of the blow. The shock of it on board of her was hardly perceptible. All the violence of that collision was, as usual, felt only on board the smaller craft. Even Nostromo himself thought that this was perhaps the end of his desperate adventure. He too had been flung away from the long tiller, which took charge in the lurch. The next moment the steamer would have passed on, leaving the lighter to sink or swim after having shouldered her thus out of her way, and without even getting a glimpse of her form, had it not been that, being deeply laden with stores and the great number of people on board, her anchor was low enough to hook itself into one of the wire shrouds of the lighter's mast. For the space of two or three gasping breaths that new rope held against the sudden strain, it was this that gave Dekoud the sensation of the snatching pole dragging the lighter away to destruction. The cause of it, of course, was inexplicable to him. The whole thing was so sudden that he had no time to think. But all his sensations were perfectly clear. He had kept complete possession of himself. In fact, he was even pleasantly aware of that calmness at the very moment of being pitched headfirst over the transom to struggle on his back in a lot of water. Senor Hirsch's shriek he had heard and recognized while he was regaining his feet, always with that mysterious sensation of being dragged headlong through the darkness. Not a word, not a cry escaped him. He had no time to see anything, and following upon the despairing screams for help, the dragging motion ceased so suddenly that he staggered forward with open arms and fell against the pile of the treasure boxes. He clung to them instinctively in the vague apprehension of being flung about again, and immediately he heard another lot of shrieks for help, prolonged and despairing not near him at all but unaccountably in the distance, away from the lighter altogether, as if some spirit in the night were mocking at Senor Hirsch's terror and despair. Then all was still. As still as when you wake up in your bed in a dark room from a bizarre and agitated dream. The lighter rocked slightly, the rain was still falling, two groping hands took hold of his bruised sides from behind, and the capitas's voice whispered in his ear, Silence for your life! Silence! The steamer has stopped. Deku'd listened. The gulf was dumb. He felt the water nearly up to his knees. Are we sinking? He asked in a faint breath. I don't know. Nostromo breathed back to him. Senor, make not the slightest sound. Hirsch, when ordered forward by Nostromo, had not returned into his first hiding-place. He had fallen near the mast and had no strength to rise. Moreover he feared to move. He had given himself up for dead, but not on any rational grounds. It was simply a cruel and terrifying feeling. Whenever he tried to think what would become of him his teeth would start chattering violently. He was too absorbed in the utter misery of his fear to take notice of anything. Though he was stifling under the lighter's sail which Nostromo had unwittingly lowered on top of him, he did not even dare to put out his head till the very moment of the steamer striking. Then indeed he leaped right out, spurred on to new miracles of bodily vigor by this new shape of danger. The inrush of water when the lighter healed over unsealed his lips, his shriek, save me, was the first distinct warning of the collision for the people on board the steamer. Next moment the wire shroud parted and the released anchor swept over the lighter's forecastle. It came against the breast of Senor Hirsch who simply seized hold of it without in the least knowing what it was, but curling his arms and legs upon the part above the fluke with an invincible, unreasonable tenacity. The lighter yawned off wide and the steamer, moving on, carried him away, clinging hard and shouting for help. It was some time, however, after the steamer had stopped, that his position was discovered. His sustained yelping for help seemed to come from somebody swimming in the water. At last a couple of men went over the boughs and hauled him on board. He was carried straight off to Sotio on the bridge. His examination confirmed the impression that some craft had been run over and sunk, but it was impractical on such a dark night to look for the positive proof of floating wreckage. Sotio was more anxious than ever now to enter the harbour without loss of time. The idea that he had destroyed the principal object of his expedition was too intolerable to be accepted. This feeling made the story he had heard appear the more incredible. Senor Hirsch after being beaten a little for telling lies was thrust into the chart room, but he was beaten only a little. His tail had taken the heart out of Sotio's staff, though they all repeated round their chief. Impossible, impossible! With the exception of the old major, who triumphed gloomily, I told you, I told you, he mumbled, I could smell some treachery, some diableria, eligoth! Meantime the steamer had kept on her way towards Sulaco, where only the truth of that matter could be ascertained. Deku and Nostromo heard the loud turning of her propeller diminish and die out, and then with no useless words, busied themselves in making for the Isabels. The last shower had brought with it a gentle but steady breeze. The danger was not over yet, and there was no time for talk. The lighter was leaking like a sieb, they splashed in the water at every step. The capitas put into Deku's hand the handle of the pump which was fitted at the side aft, and at once, without question or Deku began to pump in utter forgetfulness of every desire but that of keeping the treachery afloat. Nostromo hoisted the sail, flew back to the tiller, pulled at the sheet like mad. The short flare of a match they had been kept dry in a tight tin box, though the man himself was completely wet, disclosed to the toiling Deku the eagerness of his face bent low over the box of the compass and the attentive stare of his eyes. He knew now where he was, and he hoped to run the sinking lighter ashore in the shallow cove, where the high cliff-like end of the great Isabel is divided in two equal parts by a deep and overgrown ravine. Deku pumped without intermission, Nostromo steered without relaxing for a second the intense peering effort of his stare. Each of them was, as if utterly alone with his task, it did not occur to them to speak. There was nothing in common between them but the knowledge that the damaged lighter must be slowly but surely sinking. In that knowledge, which was like the crucial test of their desires, they seemed to have become completely estranged, as if they had discovered in the very shock of the collision that the loss of the lighter would not mean the same thing to them both. This common danger brought their differences in aim, in view, in character, and in position, into absolute prominence in the private vision of each. There was no bond of conviction of common idea. They were merely two adventurers pursuing his own adventure involved in the same imminence of deadly peril. Before they had nothing to say to each other. But this peril, this only incontrovertible truth in which they shared, seemed to act as an inspiration to their mental and bodily powers. There was certainly something almost miraculous in the way the Kapotaz made the cove with nothing but the shadowy hint of the island's shape and the vague gleam of a small sandy strip for a guide. Where the ravine opens between the cliffs, and a slender shallow rivulet meanders out of the bushes to lose itself in the sea, the lighter was run ashore, and the two men with a taciturn, undaunted energy began to discharge her precious freight, carrying each oxide box up the bed of the rivulet beyond the bushes. To a hollow place which the caving in of the soil had made below the roots of a large tree, its big, smooth trunk leaned like a falling column far over the trickle of water running amongst the loose stones. A couple of years before Nostromo had spent a whole Sunday, all alone, exploring the island. He explained this to Deku after their task was done, and they sat, weary in every limb, with their legs hanging down the low bank and their backs against the tree, like a pair of blind men aware of each other and their surroundings by some indefinable sixth sense. Yes, Nostromo repeated, I'd never forget a place I had carefully looked at once. He spoke slowly, almost lazily, as if there had been a whole leisurely life before him instead of the scanty two hours before daylight. The existence of the treasure, barely concealed in this improbable spot, laid a burden of secrecy upon every contemplated step, upon every intention and plan of future conduct. He felt the partial failure of this desperate affair and trusted to the great reputation he had known how to make for himself. However, it was also a partial success. His vanity was half appeased, his nervous irritation had subsided. You never know what may be of use. He pursued with his usual quietness of tone and manner, I spent a whole miserable Sunday in exploring this crumb of land. A misanthropic sort of occupation, muttered they could viciously. You had no money, I suppose, to gamble with and to fling out amongst the girls in your usual haunt's capitas. ìE vero!î claimed the capitas, surprised into the use of his native tongue by so much perspicacity. ìI had not. Therefore I did not want to go amongst those beggarly people accustomed to my generosity. It is looked for from the capitas of the Cargadores, who are the rich men, and as it were the caballeros amongst the common people. I don't care for cards, but as a pastime, and as to those girls that boast of having opened their doors to my knock, you know I wouldn't look at any one of them twice except for what the people would say. They are queer, the good people of Sulaco, and have got much useful information simply by listening patiently to the talk of the women that everybody believed I was in love with. Poor Teresa could never understand that. On that particular Sunday, senor, she scolded so that I went out of the house swearing that I would never darken their door again unless to fetch away my hammock and my chest of clothes. Senor, there is nothing more exasperating than to hear a woman you respect rail against your good reputation when you have not a single brass coin in your pocket. I untied one of the small boats and pulled myself out of the harbor with nothing but three cigars in my pocket to help me spend the day on this island. But the water of this rivulet you hear under your feet is cool and sweet and good, senor, both before and after a smoke. He was silent for a while, then added reflectively. There was the first Sunday after I brought down the white-whiskered English riko all the way down the mountains from the Paramo on the top of the Entrada Pass, and in the coach too. No coach had gone up or down that mountain road within the memory of man, senor, till I brought this one down in charge of fifty peons working like one man with ropes, pickaxes, and poles under my direction. That was the rich Englishman who, as the people say, pays for the making of this railway. He was very pleased with me, but my wages were not due till the end of the month. He slid down the bank suddenly. Deku heard the splash of his feet in the brook and followed his footsteps down the ravine. His form was lost among the bushes till he had reached the strip of sand under the cliff, as often happens in the gulf when the showers during the first part of the night had been frequent and heavy. The darkness had thinned considerably towards the morning, though there were no signs of daylight as yet. The cargo-lighter relieved of its precious burden rocked feebly half a float with her forefoot on the sand. A long rope stretched away like a black cotton thread across the strip of white beach till the grapinal nostromo had carried ashore and hooked to the stern of a tree-like shrub in the very opening of the ravine. There was nothing for Deku but to remain on the island. He received from nostromo's hands whatever food the foresight of Captain Mitchell had put on board the lighter and deposited it temporarily in the little dinghy which upon their arrival they had hauled up and out of sight amongst the bushes. It was to be left with him. The island was to be a hiding-place, not a prison. He could pull out to a passing ship. The OSN Company's mailboats passed close to the islands when going into Sulaco from the north, but the Minerva carrying off the ex-president had taken the news up north of the disturbances in Sulaco. It was possible that the next steamer down would get instructions to miss the port altogether, since the town as far as the Minerva's officers knew was for the time being in the hands of the rabble. This would mean that there would be no steamer for a month as far as the mail service went, but Deku'd had to take his chance of that. The island was his only shelter from the prescription hanging over his head. The capitas was, of course, going back. The unloaded lighter leaked much less and he thought that she would keep afloat as far as the harbor. He passed to Deku'd standing knee-deep alongside one of the two spades which belonged to the equipment of each lighter for use when ballasting ships. By working with it carefully as soon as there was daylight enough to see, Deku'd could loosen a mass of earth and stones overhanging the cavity in which they had deposited the treasure, so that it would look as if it had fallen naturally. It would cover up not only the cavity, but even all traces of their work—the footsteps, the displaced stones, and even the broken bushes. Besides, who would think of looking either for you or the treasure here? Nostromo continued, as if he could not tear himself away from the spot. Nobody is ever likely to come here. What could any man want with this piece of earth as long as there is room for his feet on the mainland? The people in this country are not curious. There are even no fishermen here to intrude upon your worship. All the fishing that is done in the gulf goes on near Zapiga, over there. Senor, if you are forced to leave this island before anything can be arranged for you, do not try to make for Zapiga. It is a settlement of thieves and matreros where they would cut your throat promptly for the sake of your gold watch and chain. And senor, think twice before confiding in anyone whatever, even in the officers of the company's steamers, if you ever get on board one. Honesty alone is not enough for security. You must look to discretion and prudence in a man. And always remember, senor, before you open your lips for a confidence that this treasure may be left safely here for hundreds of years. Time is on its side, senor, and silver is an incorruptible metal that can be trusted to keep its value forever. An incorruptible metal, he repeated as if the idea had given him a profound pleasure. As some men are said to be de kud pronounced inscrutably, while the kapitas, who busied himself in bailing out the lighter with a wooden bucket, went on throwing the water over the side with a regular splash, de kud, incorrigible in his skepticism, reflected not cynically, but with a general satisfaction that this man was made incorruptible by his enormous vanity, that finest form of egoism which can take on the aspect of every virtue. Nostromo ceased bailing, and as if struck with a sudden thought, dropped the bucket with a clatter into the lighter. Have you any message? he asked in a lowered voice. Remember, I shall be asked questions. You must find the hopeful words that ought to be spoken to the people in town. I trust for that your intelligence and your experience kapitas. You understand? Si, senor, for the ladies. Yes, yes, said de kud hastily. Your wonderful reputation will make them attach a great value to your words. Therefore, be careful what you say. I am looking forward. He continued, feeling the fatal touch of contempt for himself, to which his complex nature was subject. I am looking forward to a glorious and successful ending to my mission. Do you hear kapitas? Use the words glorious and successful when you speak to the senorita. Your own mission is accomplished gloriously and successfully. You have indubitably saved the silver of the mine. Not only this silver, but probably all the silver that shall ever come out of it. Nostromo detected the ironic tone. I daresay, senor Dol Martín. He said moorily, there are very few things that I am not equal to. Ask the foreign senori. I, a man of the people, who cannot always understand what you mean. But as to this lot, which I must leave here, let me tell you that I would believe it a greater safety if you had not been with me at all. An exclamation escaped de kud, and a short pause followed. Shall I go back with you to Sulaco? He asked in an angry tone. Shall I strike you dead with my knife where you stand? He torted Nostromo contemptuously. It would be the same thing as taking you to Sulaco. Come, senor, your reputation is in your politics, and mine is bound up with the fate of this silver. Do you wonder, I wish there had been no other man to share my knowledge? I wanted no one with me, senor. You could not have kept the lighter afloat without me. De kud almost shouted. You would have gone to the bottom with her. Yes, uttered Nostromo, slowly, alone. Here was a man, de kud reflected. That seemed as though he would have preferred to die rather than to face the perfect form of his egoism. Such a man was safe. In silence he helped the capitas to get the grapnel on board. Nostromo cleared the shelving shore with one push of the heavy oar, and de kud found himself solitary on the beach like a man in a dream. A sudden desire to hear a human voice once more seized upon his heart. The lighter was hardly distinguishable from the black water upon which she floated. What do you think has become of Hirsch? he shouted. He knocked over board and drowned, cried Nostromo's voice confidently out of the black wastes of sky and sea around the islet. Keep close in the ravine, senor. I shall try to come out to you in a night or two. A slight swishing rustle showed that Nostromo was setting the sail. It filled all at once with a sound as of a single loud drum tap. De kud went back to the ravine. Nostromo at the tiller looked back from time to time at the vanishing mass of the great Isabel, which little by little merged into the uniform texture of the night. At last when he turned his head again he saw nothing but a smooth darkness like a solid wall. Then he too experienced that feeling of solitude which had weighed heavily on De kud after the lighter had slipped off the shore. But while the man on the island was oppressed by a bizarre sense of unreality affecting the very ground upon which he walked, the mind of the capitas of the cargadores turned alertly to the problem of future conduct. Nostromo's faculties working on parallel lines enabled him to steer straight to keep a lookout for Hermosa near which he had to pass and to try to imagine what would happen tomorrow in Sulaco, tomorrow or as a matter of fact today, since the dawn was not very far, Sotillo would find out in what way the treasure had gone. A gang of cargadores had been employed in loading it into a railway truck from Custom House storerooms and running the truck onto the wharf. There would be arrests made and certainly before noon Sotillo would know in what manner the silver had left Sulaco and who it was that took it out. Nostromo's intention had been to sail right into the harbor, but at this thought by a sudden touch of the tiller he threw the lighter into the wind and checked her rapid way. His reappearance with the very boat would raise suspicions, would cause surmises, would absolutely put Sotillo on the track. He himself would be arrested and once in the Calaboso there was no saying what they would do to him to make him speak. He trusted himself, but he stood up to look round. Nearby Hermosa showed low its white surface as flat as a table, with the slight run of the sea raised by the breeze washing over its edges noisily. The lighter must be sunk at once. He allowed her to drift with her sail aback. There was already a good deal of water in her. He allowed her to drift towards the harbor entrance and letting the tiller swing about, squatted down and busied himself in loosening the plug. With that out she would fill very quickly, and every lighter carried a little iron ballast, enough to make her go down when full of water. When he stood up again the noisy wash about the Hermosa sounded far away, almost inaudible, and already he could make out the shape of land about the harbor entrance. This was a desperate affair and he was a good swimmer. A mile was nothing to him and he knew of an easy place for landing just below the earthworks of the old abandoned fort. It occurred to him with a peculiar fascination that this fort was a good place in which to sleep the day through after so many sleepless nights. With one blow of the tiller he unshipped for the purpose he knocked the plug out but did not take the trouble to lower the sail. He felt the water welling up heavily about his legs before he leaped on to the taff rail. There upright and motionless, in his shirt and trousers only he stood waiting. When he had felt her settle he sprang far away with a mighty splash. At once he turned his head. The gloomy, clouded dawn from behind the mountains showed him on the smooth waters the upper corner of the sail, a dark wet triangle of canvas waving slightly to and fro. He saw it vanish as if jerked under and then struck out for the shore. CHAPTER 1 Directly the cargo boat had slipped away from the wharf and got lost in the darkness of the harbor. The Europeans of Sulaco separated to prepare for the coming of the Montarest regime, which was approaching Sulaco from the mountains as well as from the sea. This bit of manual work and loading the silver was their last concerted action. It ended the three days of danger, during which, according to the newspaper press of Europe, their energy had preserved the town from the calamities of popular disorder. At the shore end of the jetty Captain Mitchell said good night and turned back. His intention was to walk the planks of the wharf till the steamer from Esmeralda turned up. The engineers of the railway staff, collecting their Basque and Italian workmen, marched them away to the railway yards, leaving the Custom House, so well defended on the first day of the riot, standing open to the four winds of heaven. Their men had conducted themselves bravely and faithfully during the famous three days of Sulaco. In a great part this faithfulness and that courage had been exercised in self-defense rather than in the cause of those material interests to which Charles Gould had penned his faith. Amongst the cries of the mob, not the least loud, had been the cry of death to foreigners. It was indeed a lucky circumstance for Sulaco that the relations of those imported workmen with the people of the country had been uniformly bad from the first. Dr. Monaham, going to the door of Viola's kitchen, observed this retreat marking the end of the foreign interference, this withdrawal of the army, of material progress from the field of cost-guena revolutions. Agrobi torches, carried on the outskirts of the moving body, sent their penetrating aroma into his nostrils. Their light, sweeping along the front of the house, made the letters of the inscription, Auberga di Attalia una, leap out black from end to end of the long wall. His eyes blinked in the clear blaze. Several young men, mostly fair and tall, shepherding this mob of dark bronze teds surmounted by the glint of slanting rifle-barrels, nodded to him familiarly as they went by. The doctor was a well-known character. Some of them wondered what he was doing there. Then on the flank of their workmen they tramped on, following the line of rails. "'Withdrawing your people from the harbour,' said the doctor, addressing himself to the chief engineer of the railway, who had accompanied Charles Gould so far on his way to the town, walking by the side of the horse with his hand on the saddle-bow. They had stopped just outside the open door to let the workmen cross the road. "'As quick as I can. We are not a political faction,' answered the engineer, meaningly. "'And we are not going to give our new rulers a handle against the railway. You approve me, Gould?' "'Absolutely,' said Charles Gould's impassive voice, high up and outside the dim parallelogram of light falling on the road through the open door. With Sotillo expected from one side and Pedro Montero from the other, the engineer in chief's only anxiety now was to avoid a collision with either. Solaco, for him, was a railway station, a terminus, workshops, a great accumulation of stores. As against the mob the railway defended its property, but politically the railway was neutral. He was a brave man, and in that spirit of neutrality he had carried proposals of truce to the self-appointed chiefs of the popular party, the deputies Fuentes and Gamacho. Bullets were still flying about when he had crossed the plaza on that mission, waving above his head a white napkin belonging to the table linen of the Amarela Club. He was rather proud of this exploit, and reflecting that the doctor, busy all day with the wounded and the patio of the Cosa Gould, had not had time to hear the news, he began a succinct narrative. He had communicated to them the intelligence from the construction camp as to Pedro Montero. The brother of the victorious general, he had assured them, could be expected at Solaco at any time now. The news, as he anticipated, went shouted out of the window by Senor Gamacho, induced a rush of the mob along the Campo Road towards Rancón. The two deputies, also, after shaking hands with him effusively, mounted and galloped off to meet the great man. I have misled them a little, as to the time, the chief engineer confessed. However hard he rides he can scarcely get here before the morning, but my object is attained. I have secured several hours' peace for the losing party, but I did not tell them anything about Sotilo, for fear they would take it into their heads to try to get hold of the harbor again, either to oppose him or welcome him. There's no saying which. There was gold silver, on which rest the remnant of our hopes. DeCault's retreat had to be thought of, too. I think the railway has done pretty well by its friends without compromising itself hopelessly. Now the parties must be left to themselves. Costaguano, for the Costagunaros, interjected the doctor sardonically. It is a fine country, and they have raised a fine crop of hate, vengeance, murder, and rapien—those sons of the country. Well, I am one of them. Charles Gold's voice sounded calmly, and I must be going on to see to my own crop of trouble. My wife is driven straight on, doctor. Yes, all was quiet on this side. Mrs. Gold has taken the two girls with her. Charles Gold wrote on, and the engineering chief followed the doctor and doors. That man is calmness personified, he said, appreciatively, dropping on a bench, and stretching his well-shaped legs and cycling stockings nearly across the doorway. He must be extremely sure of himself. If that's all he is sure of, then he is sure of nothing, said the doctor. He had perched himself again on the end of the table. He nursed his cheek in the palm of one hand, while the other sustained the elbow. It is the last thing a man ought to be sure of. The candle, half-consumed and burning dimly with a long wick, lighted up from below his inclined face, whose expression affected by the drawn-in secretresses in the cheeks, had something vaguely unnatural and exaggerated remorseful bitterness. As he sat there he had the air of meditating upon sinister things. The engineering chief gazed at him for a time before he protested. I really don't see that. For me there seems to be nothing else. However, he was a wise man, but he could not quite conceal his contempt for that sort of paradox. In fact Dr. Moynihan was not liked by the Europeans of Solaco. His outward aspect of an outcast, which he preserved even in Mrs. Gold's drawing-room, provoked unfavorable criticism. There could be no doubt of his intelligence, and, as he had lived for over twenty years in the country, the pessimism of his outlook could not be altogether ignored. But instinctively in self-defense of their activities and hopes, his hearers put it to the account of some hidden imperfection in the man's character. It was known that many years before, when quite young, he had been made by Gosselin Bento, chief medical officer of the army. Not one of the Europeans then in the service of Costa Guena had been so much liked and trusted by the fierce old dictator. Afterwards, his story was not so clear. It lost itself amongst the innumerable tales of conspiracies and plots against the tyrant as a stream is lost and an arid belt of sandy country before it emerges, diminished and troubled, perhaps on the other side. The doctor made no secret of it that he had lived for years in the wildest parts of the Republic, wandering with almost unknown Indian tribes in the great forests of the far interior where the great rivers have their sources. But it was mere aimless wandering. He had written nothing, collected nothing, brought nothing for science out of the twilight of the forests which seemed to cling to his battered personality, limping about Solaco, where it had drifted in casually only to get stranded on the shores of the sea. It was also known that he had lived in a state of destitution till the arrival of the golds from Europe. Even Carlos, Antonia Emilia, had taken up the mad English doctor when it became apparent that for all his savage independence he could be tamed by kindness. Perhaps it was only hunger that had tamed him. In years gone by he had certainly been acquainted with Charles Gold's father in Santa Marta. And now, no matter what were the dark passages of his history as a medical officer of the Santa May Mine, he became a recognized personality. He was recognized, but not unreservedly accepted. So much defiant eccentricity and such an outspoken scorn for mankind seemed to point to mere recklessness of judgment, the bravado of guilt. Besides, since he had become again of some account, vague whispers had been heard that years ago, when fallen into disgrace and thrown into prison by Guzman Bento at the time of the so-called Great Conspiracy, he had betrayed some of his best friends. Amongst the conspirators nobody pretended to believe that whisper. The whole story of the Great Conspiracy was hopelessly involved and obscure. It is admitted, in Castigoena, that there never had been a conspiracy except in the diseased imagination of the tyrant, and therefore nothing and no one to betray, though the most distinguished Castigoeneros had been imprisoned and executed upon that accusation. The procedure had dragged on for years, decimating the better class like a pestilence. The mere expression of sorrow for the fate of executed kensmen had been punished with death. Don José Avelanos was perhaps the only one living who knew the whole story of those unspeakable cruelties. He had suffered from them himself, and he, with a shrug of the shoulders and a nervous jerky gesture of the arm, was want to put away from him, as it were, every allusion to it. But whatever the reason, Dr. Moynihan, a personage in the administration of the Gold Concession, treated with reverent awe by the miners and indulged in his peculiarities by Mrs. Gold, remained somehow outside the pail. It was not from any liking for the doctor that the engineering chief had lingered in the inn upon the plain. He liked Old Viola much better. He had come to look upon the albergo d'Italia una as a dependence of the railway. Many of his subordinates had their quarters there. Mrs. Gold's interest in the family conferred upon it a sort of distinction. The engineering chief, with an army of workers under his orders, appreciated the moral influence of the old Garibaldino upon his countrymen. His austere Old World republicanism had a severe soldier-like standard of faithfulness and duty, as if the world were a battlefield where men had to fight for the sake of universal love and brotherhood, instead of a more or less large share of booty. Our old chap, he said, after he had heard the doctor's account of Teresa, he'll never be able to keep the place going by himself. I shall be sorry. He's quite alone up there, grunted Dr. Monaham, with a toss of his heavy head towards the narrow staircase. Every living soul has cleared out, and Mrs. Gold took the girls away just now. It might not be oversafe for them out here before very long. Of course, as a doctor I can do nothing more here. But she has asked me to stay with Old Viola, and as I have no horse to get back to the mine where I ought to be, I made no difficulty to stay. They can do without me in the town. I have a good mine to remain with you, doctor, till we see whether anything happens tonight at the harbor, declared the engineering chief. He must not be molested by Sotila's soldiery, who may push on as far as this at once. Sotila used to be very cordial to me at the golds and at the club, how that man will ever dare to look any of his friends here in the face, I can't imagine. He'll no doubt begin by shooting some of them to get over the first awkwardness, said the doctor. Nothing in this country serves better your military man who has changed sides than a few summary executions. He spoke with a gloomy positiveness that left no room for protest. The engineering chief did not attempt any. He simply nodded several times regretfully, then said, I think we shall be able to mount you in the morning, doctor. Our peons have recovered some of our stampeded horses. By riding hard and taking a wide circuit by Los Etos and along the edge of the forest, clear of Rancan altogether, you may hope to reach the Santome bridge without being interfered with. The mine is just now, to my mind, the safest place for anybody at all compromised. I only wish the railway was as difficult to touch. Am I compromised? Dr. Moynihan brought out slowly after a short silence. The whole gold concession is compromised. It could not have remained forever outside the political life of the country, if those convulsions may be called life. The thing is, can it be touched? The moment was bound to come when neutrality would become impossible, and Charles Gold understood this well. I believe he is prepared for every extremity. A man of his sort has never contemplated remaining indefinitely at the mercy of ignorance and corruption. It was like being a prisoner in a cavern of Banditi with a price of your ransom in your pocket, and buying your life from day to day. Your mere safety, not your liberty, mind, doctor. I know what I am talking about. The image at which you shrug your shoulders is perfectly correct, especially if you conceive such a prisoner endowed with the power of replenishing his pocket by means as remote from the faculties of his captors as if they were magic. You must have understood that as well as I do, doctor. He was in the position of the goose with the golden eggs. I broached the matter to him as far back as Sir John's visit here. The prisoner of stupid and greedy Banditi is always at the mercy of the first imbecile Ruffian who may blow out his brains in a fit of temper or for some prospect of an immediate big haul. The tale of killing the goose with the golden eggs has not been evolved for nothing out of the wisdom of mankind. It is a story that will never grow old. That is why Charles Gold, in his deep, dumb way, has countenanced the Riberus Mandate. The first public act that promised him safety on other than venal grounds, Rivieraism has failed as everything merely rational fails in this country, but Gold remains logical in wishing to save this big lot of silver. Dekold's plan of a counter-revolution may be practicable or not. It may have a chance, or it may not have a chance. With all my experience of this revolutionary continent I can hardly yet look at their methods seriously. Dekold has been reading to us his draft of a proclamation and talking very well for two hours about his plan of action. He had arguments which should have appeared solid enough. If we, members of old stable political and national organizations, were not startled by the mere idea of a new state evolved like this out of the head of a scoffing young man fleeing for his life with a proclamation in his pocket to a rough jeering, half-bred swashbuckler, who in this part of the world is called a general, it sounds like a comic fairy tale, and, behold, it may come off because it is true to the very spirit of the country. Is the silver gone off, then? asked the doctor, moodily. The chief engineer pulled out his watch. By Captain Mitchell's reckoning, and he ought to know, it has been gone long enough now to be some three or four miles outside the harbor. And as Mitchell says, Nostromo is a sort of seaman to make the best of his opportunities. Here the doctor grunted so heavily that the other changed his tone. You have a poor opinion of that move, doctor, but why? Charles Gull has got to play his game out, though he is not the man to formulate his conduct even to himself. Let alone to others, it may be that the game has been partly suggested to him by Hollyroyd, but it accords with his character too, and that is why it has been so successful. Haven't they come to calling him Alred de Salaco and Santa Marta? A nickname may be the best record of a success. That's what I call putting the face of a joke upon the body of a truth. My dear sir, when I first arrived in Santa Marta, I was struck by the way all these journalists, demagogues, members of Congress, and all those generals and judges cringed before a sleepy-eyed advocate without practice, simply because he was the plenipotentary of the gold concession. Sir John, when he came out, was impressed too. A new state with that plump dandy decode for the first president, missed Dr. Moynihan, nursing his cheek and swinging his legs all the time. On my word, why not, the chief engineer retorted in an unexpected, earnest, and confidential voice. It was as if something subtle in the air of Costaguenna had inoculated him with the local faith in pronuncio mentos. All at once he began to talk, like an expert, revolutionist, of the instrument ready to hand in the intact army at Keita, which could be brought back in a few days to Salaco if only decode managed to make his way at once down the coast. For the military chief there was Barrios, who had nothing but a bullet to expect from Montero, his former professional rival and bitter enemy. Barrios' concurrence was assured. As to his army it had nothing to expect from Montero, either, not even a month's pay. From that point of view the existence of the treasure was of enormous importance. The mere knowledge that it had been saved from the Monteros would be a strong inducement for the Keita troops to embrace the cause of the new state. The doctor turned round and contemplated his companion for some time. "'This decode, I see, is a persuasive young beggar,' he remarked at last, and pray is it for this, then, that Charles Gould has let the whole lot of ingots go out to see in charge of that nastromo?' "'Charles Gould,' said the engineering chief, has said no more about his motive than usual. "'You know, he doesn't talk, but we all here know his motive, and he has only one—the safety of the Santome Mine, with the preservation of the Gould concession, in the spirit of his compact with Holaroid—Holaroid—is another uncommon man. They understand each other's imaginative side. One is thirty, the other nearly sixty, and they have been made for each other. To be a millionaire, and such a millionaire as Holaroid, is like being eternally young. The audacity of youth reckons upon it what it fancies an unlimited time at its disposal, but a millionaire has unlimited means in his hand, which is better. One's time on earth is an uncertain quantity, but about the long reach of millions there is no doubt. The introduction of a pure form of Christianity into this continent is a dream for a youthful enthusiast, and I have been trying to explain to you why Holaroid, at fifty-eight, is like a man on the threshold of life, and better too. He's not a missionary, but the Santome Mine holds just that for him, I assure you, in sober truth, that he could not manage to keep this out of a strictly business conference upon the finances of Costa Coena he had with Sir John a couple of years ago. Sir John mentioned it with amazement in a letter he wrote to me here, from San Francisco, when on his way home. Upon my word, doctor, things seem to be worth nothing by what they are in themselves. I begin to believe that the only solid thing about them is the spiritual value which everyone discovers in his own form of activity. Bah! interrupted the doctor, without stopping for an instant the idle swinging movement of his legs. So flattery, food for that vanity which makes the world go round. Meantime, what do you think is going to happen to the treasure floating about the gulf with the great capitas and the great politician? Why are you uneasy about it, doctor? I uneasy? And what the devil is it to me? I put no spiritual value into my desires, or my opinions, or my actions. They have not enough vastness to give me room for self-flattery. Look, for instance, I should certainly have liked to ease the last moments of that poor woman. And I can't. It's impossible. Have you met the impossible face to face? Or have you, the Napoleon of railways, no such word in your dictionary? Is she bound to have a very bad time of it? asked the chief engineer, with humane concern. Slow, heavy footsteps moved across the planks, above the heavy hardwood beams of the kitchen. Then down the narrow opening of this staircase, made in the thickness of the wall, and narrow enough to be defended by one man against twenty enemies came the murmur of two voices, one faint and broken, the other deep and gentle answering it. And in its graver tone covering the weaker sound. The two men remained still and silent till the murmur ceased. Then the doctors shrugged his shoulders and muttered, yes, she's bound to. And I could do nothing if I went up now. A long period of silence above and below ensued. I fancy, began the engineer and the subdued voice, that you must trust Captain Mitchell's capitas. Must trust him, muttered the doctor through his teeth. I believe him capable of anything, even at the most absurd fidelity. I am the last person he spoke to before he left the wharf, you know. The poor woman up there wanted to see him, and I let him go up to her. The dying must not be contradicted, you know. She seemed then fairly calm and resigned, but the scoundrel in those ten minutes or so has done or said something which seems to have driven her into despair. You know, went on the doctor, hesitatingly, women are so very unaccountable in every position, and at all times of life, that I thought sometimes she was in a way, don't you see, in love with him. The capitas. The rascal has his own charms indubitably, or he would not have made the conquest of all the populace of the town. No, no, I am not absurd. I may have given a wrong name to some strong sentiment for him on her part, to an unreasonable and simple attitude. A woman is apt to take up emotionally towards a man. She used to abuse him to me frequently, which, of course, is not inconsistent with my idea. Not at all. It looked to me as if she were always thinking of him. He was something important in her life. You know, I have seen a lot of those people. After I came down from the mine, Mrs. Gold used to ask me to keep my eye on them. She likes Italians. She has lived a long time in Italy, I believe, and she took a special fancy to that old Garibolino. A remarkable chap enough. A rugged and dreamy character, living in the republicanism of his young days, as if in a cloud. He has encouraged much of the capitas' confounded nonsense. The high-strung, exalted old beggar. That sort of nonsense, wondered the chief engineer. I found the capitas' always a very shrewd and sensible fellow. Absolutely fearless and remarkably useful. A perfect handyman. Sir John was greatly impressed by his resourcefulness and attention when he made that overland journey from Santa Marta. Later on, as you might have heard, he rendered us a service by disclosing to the then chief of police the presence in the town of some professional thieves, who came from a distance to wreck and rob our monthly pay-train. He has certainly organized the lighterage service of the harbor for the OSN company with great ability. He knows how to make himself obeyed, foreigner though he is. It is true that the cargadores are strangers here, too, for the most part. Immigrants, islinos. His prestige is his fortune, muttered the doctor, sourly. The man has proved his trustworthiness up to the hilt on innumerable occasions, and in all sorts of ways, argued the engineer. When this question of the silver arose, Captain Mitchell naturally was very warmly of the opinion that his capitas was the only man fit for the trust. As a sailor, of course, I suppose so. But as a man, don't you know? Gold, dick-hold, and myself judged that it didn't matter in the least who went. Any boatman would have done just as well. Pray, what could a thief do with such a lot of ingots? If he ran off with them, he would have in the inn to land somewhere, and how could he conceal his cargo from the knowledge of the people ashore? We dismissed that consideration from our minds. Moreover, dick-hold was going, there have been occasions when the capitas has been more implicitly trusted. He took a slightly different view, the doctor said. I heard him declare in this very room that it would be the most desperate affair of his life. He made a sort of verbal will here in my hearing, appointing Old Biela as his executor. And by Jove, do you know he? He has not grown rich by his fidelity to you, good people of the railway and the harbour. I suppose he obtains some. How do you say that? Some spiritual value for his labours, or else I don't know why the devil he should be faithful to you, Gold, Mitchell, or anybody else. He knows this country well. He knows, for instance, that Gamacho, the deputy from Javira, has been nothing else but a tramposo of the commonest sort, a petty peddler of the campo, till he managed to get enough goods on credit from Anzani to open a little store in the wilds, and got himself elected by the drunken mosos that hang about the Estancias and the poor sort of rancheros who were in his debt. And Gamacho, who to-morrow will be probably one of our high officials, is a stranger too, and is lino. He might have been a cargaror on the OSN wharf had he not, the posadero of Rincan is ready to swear it, murdered a peddler in the woods and stolen his pack to begin life on. And do you think that Gamacho, then, would have ever become a hero with the democracy of this place, like our Capitas? Of course not. He isn't half the man. No, decidedly. I think that Nostromo is a fool. The doctor's talk was distasteful to the builder of Roes. It is impossible to argue that point, he said philosophically. Each man has his gifts. You should have heard Gamacho haranguing his friends in the street. He has a howling voice, and he shouted like mad, lifting his clenched fist right above his head, and throwing his body half out of the window. At every pause the rabble below yelled, down with the oligarchs, Vive la libertad! Fuentes inside looked extremely miserable. You know, he is the brother of Jorge Fuentes, who has been minister of the interior for six months or so, some years back. Of course he has no conscience, but he is a man of birth and education. At one time the director of the customs of Keita, that idiot brute Gamacho, fastened himself upon him with his following of the lowest rabble, his sickly fear of that ruffian was the most rejoicing sight imaginable. He got up and went to the door to look out towards the harbor. All quiet, he said. I wonder if Sotelo really means to turn up here. End of Part 3, Chapter 1.