Ностромо

           Itwasonthethirddayofhissolitudethathehaddraggedthedinghynearthewaterwithanideaofrowingawaysomewhere,buthaddesistedpartlyatthewhisperoflingeringhopethatNostromowouldreturn,partlyfromconvictionofutteruselessnessofalleffort.Nowshewantedonlyaslightshovetobesetafloat.Hehadeatenalittleeverydayafterthefirst,andhadsomemuscularstrengthleftyet.Takinguptheoarsslowly,hepulledawayfromthecliffoftheGreatIsabel,thatstoodbehindhimwarmwithsunshine,asifwiththeheatoflife,bathedinarichlightfromheadtofootasifinaradianceofhopeandjoy.Hepulledstraighttowardsthesettingsun.Whenthegulfhadgrowndark,heceasedrowingandflungthescullsin.Thehollowclattertheymadeinfallingwastheloudestnoisehehadeverheardinhislife.Itwasarevelation.Itseemedtorecallhimfromfaraway,Actuallythethought,“PerhapsImaysleepto-night,”passedthroughhismind.Buthedidnotbelieveit.Hebelievedinnothing;andheremainedsittingonthethwart.

           Thedawnfrombehindthemountainsputagleamintohisunwinkingeyes.Afteracleardaybreakthesunappearedsplendidlyabovethepeaksoftherange.Thegreatgulfburstintoaglitterallaroundtheboat;andinthisgloryofmercilesssolitudethesilenceappearedagainbeforehim,stretchedtautlikeadark,thinstring.

           Hiseyeslookedatitwhile,withouthaste,heshiftedhisseatfromthethwarttothegunwale.