Joseph Conrad: Nostromo

PART THIRD: THE LIGHTHOUSE 6. CHAPTER SIX (continued)

"But that is talk--good for the politicos. I am a military man. I
do not know what may happen. But I know what ought to be
done--the mine should march upon the town with guns, axes, knives
tied up to sticks--por Dios. That is what should be done.
Only--"

His folded hands twitched on the hilt. The cigar turned faster in
the corner of his lips.

"And who should lead but I? Unfortunately--observe--I have given
my word of honour to Don Carlos not to let the mine fall into the
hands of these thieves. In war--you know this, Padre--the fate
of battles is uncertain, and whom could I leave here to act for
me in case of defeat? The explosives are ready. But it would
require a man of high honour, of intelligence, of judgment, of
courage, to carry out the prepared destruction. Somebody I can
trust with my honour as I can trust myself. Another old officer
of Paez, for instance. Or--or--perhaps one of Paez's old
chaplains would do."

He got up, long, lank, upright, hard, with his martial moustache
and the bony structure of his face, from which the glance of the
sunken eyes seemed to transfix the priest, who stood still, an
empty wooden snuff-box held upside down in his hand, and glared
back, speechless, at the governor of the mine.