Joseph Conrad: Nostromo

PART SECOND: THE ISABELS 7. CHAPTER SEVEN (continued)

The Capataz never checked his speed. At the head of the wharf
vague figures with rifles leapt to the head of his horse; others
closed upon him--cargadores of the company posted by Captain
Mitchell on the watch. At a word from him they fell back with
subservient murmurs, recognizing his voice. At the other end of
the jetty, near a cargo crane, in a dark group with glowing
cigars, his name was pronounced in a tone of relief. Most of the
Europeans in Sulaco were there, rallied round Charles Gould, as
if the silver of the mine had been the emblem of a common cause,
the symbol of the supreme importance of material interests. They
had loaded it into the lighter with their own hands. Nostromo
recognized Don Carlos Gould, a thin, tall shape standing a little
apart and silent, to whom another tall shape, the
engineer-in-chief, said aloud, "If it must be lost, it is a
million times better that it should go to the bottom of the sea."

Martin Decoud called out from the lighter, "Au revoir, messieurs,
till we clasp hands again over the new-born Occidental Republic."
Only a subdued murmur responded to his clear, ringing tones; and
then it seemed to him that the wharf was floating away into the
night; but it was Nostromo, who was already pushing against a
pile with one of the heavy sweeps. Decoud did not move; the
effect was that of being launched into space. After a splash or
two there was not a sound but the thud of Nostromo's feet leaping
about the boat. He hoisted the big sail; a breath of wind fanned
Decoud's cheek. Everything had vanished but the light of the
lantern Captain Mitchell had hoisted upon the post at the end of
the jetty to guide Nostromo out of the harbour.

The two men, unable to see each other, kept silent till the
lighter, slipping before the fitful breeze, passed out between
almost invisible headlands into the still deeper darkness of the
gulf. For a time the lantern on the jetty shone after them. The
wind failed, then fanned up again, but so faintly that the big,
half-decked boat slipped along with no more noise than if she had
been suspended in the air.

"We are out in the gulf now," said the calm voice of Nostromo. A
moment after he added, "Senor Mitchell has lowered the light."