Joseph Conrad: Nostromo

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

Decoud was heard to stir.

"You did, Capataz!" he exclaimed. His tone changed. "Well, you
know--it was rather fine."

"You do not believe in priests, Don Martin? Neither do I. What
was the use of wasting time? But she--she believes in them. The
thing sticks in my throat. She may be dead already, and here we
are floating helpless with no wind at all. Curse on all
superstition. She died thinking I deprived her of Paradise, I
suppose. It shall be the most desperate affair of my life."

Decoud remained lost in reflection. He tried to analyze the
sensations awaked by what he had been told. The voice of the
Capataz was heard again:

"Now, Don Martin, let us take up the sweeps and try to find the
Isabels. It is either that or sinking the lighter if the day
overtakes us. We must not forget that the steamer from Esmeralda
with the soldiers may be coming along. We will pull straight on
now. I have discovered a bit of a candle here, and we must take
the risk of a small light to make a course by the boat compass.
There is not enough wind to blow it out--may the curse of Heaven
fall upon this blind gulf!"

A small flame appeared burning quite straight. It showed
fragmentarily the stout ribs and planking in the hollow, empty
part of the lighter. Decoud could see Nostromo standing up to
pull. He saw him as high as the red sash on his waist, with a
gleam of a white-handled revolver and the wooden haft of a long
knife protruding on his left side. Decoud nerved himself for the
effort of rowing. Certainly there was not enough wind to blow the
candle out, but its flame swayed a little to the slow movement of
the heavy boat. It was so big that with their utmost efforts they
could not move it quicker than about a mile an hour. This was
sufficient, however, to sweep them amongst the Isabels long
before daylight came. There was a good six hours of darkness
before them, and the distance from the harbour to the Great
Isabel did not exceed two miles. Decoud put this heavy toil to
the account of the Capataz's impatience. Sometimes they paused,
and then strained their ears to hear the boat from Esmeralda. In
this perfect quietness a steamer moving would have been heard
from far off. As to seeing anything it was out of the question.
They could not see each other. Even the lighter's sail, which
remained set, was invisible. Very often they rested.