Joseph Conrad: Nostromo

PART SECOND: THE ISABELS 8. CHAPTER EIGHT (continued)

"What do you think has become of Hirsch?" he shouted.

"Knocked overboard 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. Decoud 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 Decoud 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 Capataz 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
look-out for Hermosa, near which he had to pass, and to try to
imagine what would happen tomorrow in Sulaco. To-morrow, or, as a
matter of fact, to-day, 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 the Custom House store-rooms, and running the truck on to
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 harbour; but
at this thought by a sudden touch of the tiller he threw the
lighter into the wind and checked her rapid way. His
re-appearance 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 Calabozo there was no
saying what they would do to him to make him speak. He trusted
himself, but he stood up to look round. Near by, 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.