Joseph Conrad: Nostromo

PART THIRD: THE LIGHTHOUSE 9. CHAPTER NINE (continued)

"But why shot?" the doctor again asked himself, audibly. This
time he was answered by a dry laugh from Nostromo.

"You seem much concerned at a very natural thing, senor doctor. I
wonder why? It is very likely that before long we shall all get
shot one after another, if not by Sotillo, then by Pedrito, or
Fuentes, or Gamacho. And we may even get the estrapade, too, or
worse--quien sabe?--with your pretty tale of the silver you put
into Sotillo's head."

"It was in his head already," the doctor protested. "I only--"

"Yes. And you only nailed it there so that the devil himself--"

"That is precisely what I meant to do," caught up the doctor.

"That is what you meant to do. Bueno. It is as I say. You are a
dangerous man."

Their voices, which without rising had been growing quarrelsome,
ceased suddenly. The late Senor Hirsch, erect and shadowy against
the stars, seemed to be waiting attentive, in impartial silence.

But Dr. Monygham had no mind to quarrel with Nostromo. At this
supremely critical point of Sulaco's fortunes it was borne upon
him at last that this man was really indispensable, more
indispensable than ever the infatuation of Captain Mitchell, his
proud discoverer, could conceive; far beyond what Decoud's best
dry raillery about "my illustrious friend, the unique Capataz de
Cargadores," had ever intended. The fellow was unique. He was not
"one in a thousand." He was absolutely the only one. The doctor
surrendered. There was something in the genius of that Genoese
seaman which dominated the destinies of great enterprises and of
many people, the fortunes of Charles Gould, the fate of an
admirable woman. At this last thought the doctor had to clear his
throat before he could speak.

In a completely changed tone he pointed out to the Capataz that,
to begin with, he personally ran no great risk. As far as
everybody knew he was dead. It was an enormous advantage. He had
only to keep out of sight in the Casa Viola, where the old
Garibaldino was known to be alone--with his dead wife. The
servants had all run away. No one would think of searching for
him there, or anywhere else on earth, for that matter.