Joseph Conrad: Heart of Darkness

1. PART I (continued)

"We gave her her letters (I heard the men in that lonely ship were dying of fever at the rate of three a day) and went on. We called at some more places with farcical names, where the merry dance of death and trade goes on in a still and earthy atmosphere as of an overheated catacomb; all along the formless coast bordered by dangerous surf, as if Nature herself had tried to ward off intruders; in and out of rivers, streams of death in life, whose banks were rotting into mud, whose waters, thickened into slime, invaded the contorted mangroves, that seemed to writhe at us in the extremity of an impotent despair. Nowhere did we stop long enough to get a particularized impression, but the general sense of vague and oppressive wonder grew upon me. It was like a weary pilgrimage amongst hints for nightmares.

"It was upward of thirty days before I saw the mouth of the big river. We anchored off the seat of the government. But my work would not begin till some two hundred miles farther on. So as soon as I could I made a start for a place thirty miles higher up.

"I had my passage on a little sea-going steamer. Her captain was a Swede, and knowing me for a seaman, invited me on the bridge. He was a young man, lean, fair, and morose, with lanky hair and a shuffling gait. As we left the miserable little wharf, he tossed his head contemptuously at the shore. `Been living there?' he asked. I said, `Yes.' `Fine lot these government chaps--are they not?' he went on, speaking English with great precision and considerable bitterness. `It is funny what some people will do for a few francs a month. I wonder what becomes of that kind when it goes up country?' I said to him I expected to see that soon. `So-o-o!' he exclaimed. He shuffled athwart, keeping one eye ahead vigilantly. `Don't be too sure,' he continued. `The other day I took up a man who hanged himself on the road. He was a Swede, too.' `Hanged himself! Why, in God's name?' I cried. He kept on looking out watchfully. `Who knows? The sun too much for him, or the country perhaps.'