Joseph Conrad: Nostromo

PART THIRD: THE LIGHTHOUSE 3. CHAPTER THREE (continued)

"I don't see why I should bother my head about it," snarled
Captain Mitchell.

"No," assented the doctor, with the same grim composure. "I
don't see why you should. It wouldn't help a single human being
in the world if you thought ever so hard upon any subject
whatever."

"No," said Captain Mitchell, simply, and with evident depression.
"A man locked up in a confounded dark hole is not much use to
anybody."

"As to old Viola," the doctor continued, as though he had not
heard, "Sotillo released him for the same reason he is presently
going to release you."

"Eh? What?" exclaimed Captain Mitchell, staring like an owl in
the darkness. "What is there in common between me and old Viola?
More likely because the old chap has no watch and chain for the
pickpocket to steal. And I tell you what, Dr. Monygham," he went
on with rising choler, "he will find it more difficult than he
thinks to get rid of me. He will burn his fingers over that job
yet, I can tell you. To begin with, I won't go without my watch,
and as to the rest--we shall see. I dare say it is no great
matter for you to be locked up. But Joe Mitchell is a different
kind of man, sir. I don't mean to submit tamely to insult and
robbery. I am a public character, sir."

And then Captain Mitchell became aware that the bars of the
opening had become visible, a black grating upon a square of
grey. The coming of the day silenced Captain Mitchell as if by
the reflection that now in all the future days he would be
deprived of the invaluable services of his Capataz. He leaned
against the wall with his arms folded on his breast, and the
doctor walked up and down the whole length of the place with his
peculiar hobbling gait, as if slinking about on damaged feet. At
the end furthest from the grating he would be lost altogether in
the darkness. Only the slight limping shuffle could be heard.
There was an air of moody detachment in that painful prowl kept
up without a pause. When the door of the prison was suddenly
flung open and his name shouted out he showed no surprise. He
swerved sharply in his walk, and passed out at once, as though
much depended upon his speed; but Captain Mitchell remained for
some time with his shoulders against the wall, quite undecided in
the bitterness of his spirit whether it wouldn't be better to
refuse to stir a limb in the way of protest. He had half a mind
to get himself carried out, but after the officer at the door had
shouted three or four times in tones of remonstrance and surprise
he condescended to walk out.