Joseph Conrad: Nostromo

PART THIRD: THE LIGHTHOUSE 8. CHAPTER EIGHT (continued)

"It is unfortunate, Capataz. But no one would think of blaming
you. Very unfortunate. To begin with, the treasure ought never to
have left the mountain. But it was Decoud who--however, he is
dead. There is no need to talk of him."

"No," assented Nostromo, as the doctor paused, "there is no need
to talk of dead men. But I am not dead yet."

"You are all right. Only a man of your intrepidity could have
saved himself."

In this Dr. Monygham was sincere. He esteemed highly the
intrepidity of that man, whom he valued but little, being
disillusioned as to mankind in general, because of the particular
instance in which his own manhood had failed. Having had to
encounter singlehanded during his period of eclipse many physical
dangers, he was well aware of the most dangerous element common
to them all: of the crushing, paralyzing sense of human
littleness, which is what really defeats a man struggling with
natural forces, alone, far from the eyes of his fellows. He was
eminently fit to appreciate the mental image he made for himself
of the Capataz, after hours of tension and anxiety, precipitated
suddenly into an abyss of waters and darkness, without earth or
sky, and confronting it not only with an undismayed mind, but
with sensible success. Of course, the man was an incomparable
swimmer, that was known, but the doctor judged that this instance
testified to a still greater intrepidity of spirit. It was
pleasing to him; he augured well from it for the success of the
arduous mission with which he meant to entrust the Capataz so
marvellously restored to usefulness. And in a tone vaguely
gratified, he observed--

"It must have been terribly dark!"

"It was the worst darkness of the Golfo," the Capataz assented,
briefly. He was mollified by what seemed a sign of some faint
interest in such things as had befallen him, and dropped a few
descriptive phrases with an affected and curt nonchalance. At
that moment he felt communicative. He expected the continuance of
that interest which, whether accepted or rejected, would have
restored to him his personality--the only thing lost in that
desperate affair. But the doctor, engrossed by a desperate
adventure of his own, was terrible in the pursuit of his idea. He
let an exclamation of regret escape him.