Ностромо

           Thisfeelingmadethestoryhehadheardappearthemoreincredible.SenorHirsch,afterbeingbeatenalittlefortellinglies,wasthrustintothechartroom.Buthewasbeatenonlyalittle.HistalehadtakentheheartoutofSotillo’sStaff,thoughtheyallrepeatedroundtheirchief,“Impossible!impossible!”withtheexceptionoftheoldmajor,whotriumphedgloomily.

           “Itoldyou;Itoldyou,”hemumbled.“Icouldsmellsometreachery,somediableriaaleagueoff.”

           Meantime,thesteamerhadkeptonherwaytowardsSulaco,whereonlythetruthofthatmattercouldbeascertained.DecoudandNostromoheardtheloudchurningofherpropellerdiminishanddieout;andthen,withnouselesswords,busiedthemselvesinmakingfortheIsabels.Thelastshowerhadbroughtwithitagentlebutsteadybreeze.Thedangerwasnotoveryet,andtherewasnotimefortalk.Thelighterwasleakinglikeasieve.Theysplashedinthewaterateverystep.TheCapatazputintoDecoud’shandsthehandleofthepumpwhichwasfittedatthesideaft,andatonce,withoutquestionorremark,Decoudbegantopumpinutterforgetfulnessofeverydesirebutthatofkeepingthetreasureafloat.Nostromohoistedthesail,flewbacktothetiller,pulledatthesheetlikemad.Theshortflareofamatch(theyhadbeenkeptdryinatighttinbox,thoughthemanhimselfwascompletelywet),disclosedtothetoilingDecoudtheeagernessofhisface,bentlowovertheboxofthecompass,andtheattentivestareofhiseyes.