Joseph Conrad: Nostromo

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

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
harbour 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 harbour 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 taffrail. 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.