Joseph Conrad: Nostromo

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

This was the first open sign of the change in his convictions.
Presently notorious democrats, who had been living till then in
constant fear of arrest, leg irons, and even floggings, could be
observed going in and out at the great door of the Commandancia,
where the horses of the orderlies doze under their heavy saddles,
while the men, in ragged uniforms and pointed straw hats, lounge
on a bench, with their naked feet stuck out beyond the strip of
shade; and a sentry, in a red baize coat with holes at the
elbows, stands at the top of the steps glaring haughtily at the
common people, who uncover their heads to him as they pass.

Sotillo's ideas did not soar above the care for his personal
safety and the chance of plundering the town in his charge, but
he feared that such a late adhesion would earn but scant
gratitude from the victors. He had believed just a little too
long in the power of the San Tome mine. The seized correspondence
had confirmed his previous information of a large amount of
silver ingots lying in the Sulaco Custom House. To gain
possession of it would be a clear Monterist move; a sort of
service that would have to be rewarded. With the silver in his
hands he could make terms for himself and his soldiers. He was
aware neither of the riots, nor of the President's escape to
Sulaco and the close pursuit led by Montero's brother, the
guerrillero. The game seemed in his own hands. The initial moves
were the seizure of the cable telegraph office and the securing
of the Government steamer lying in the narrow creek which is the
harbour of Esmeralda. The last was effected without difficulty by
a company of soldiers swarming with a rush over the gangways as
she lay alongside the quay; but the lieutenant charged with the
duty of arresting the telegraphist halted on the way before the
only cafe in Esmeralda, where he distributed some brandy to his
men, and refreshed himself at the expense of the owner, a known
Ribierist. The whole party became intoxicated, and proceeded on
their mission up the street yelling and firing random shots at
the windows. This little festivity, which might have turned out
dangerous to the telegraphist's life, enabled him in the end to
send his warning to Sulaco. The lieutenant, staggering upstairs
with a drawn sabre, was before long kissing him on both cheeks in
one of those swift changes of mood peculiar to a state of
drunkenness. He clasped the telegraphist close round the neck,
assuring him that all the officers of the Esmeralda garrison were
going to be made colonels, while tears of happiness streamed down
his sodden face. Thus it came about that the town major, coming
along later, found the whole party sleeping on the stairs and in
passages, and the telegraphist (who scorned this chance of
escape) very busy clicking the key of the transmitter. The major
led him away bareheaded, with his hands tied behind his back, but
concealed the truth from Sotillo, who remained in ignorance of
the warning despatched to Sulaco.