Серце темряви

           Herensigndroppedlimplikearag;themuzzlesofthelongsix-inchgunsstuckoutalloverthelowhull;thegreasy,slimyswellswungheruplazilyandletherdown,swayingherthinmasts.Intheemptyimmensityofearth,sky,andwater,thereshewas,incomprehensible,firingintoacontinent.Pop,wouldgooneofthesix-inchguns;asmallflamewoulddartandvanish,alittlewhitesmokewoulddisappear,atinyprojectilewouldgiveafeeblescreech—andnothinghappened.Nothingcouldhappen.Therewasatouchofinsanityintheproceeding,asenseoflugubriousdrolleryinthesight;anditwasnotdissipatedbysomebodyonboardassuringmeearnestlytherewasacampofnatives—hecalledthemenemies!—hiddenoutofsightsomewhere.

           "Wegaveherherletters(Iheardthemeninthatlonelyshipweredyingoffeverattherateofthreeaday)andwenton.Wecalledatsomemoreplaceswithfarcicalnames,wherethemerrydanceofdeathandtradegoesoninastillandearthyatmosphereasofanoverheatedcatacomb;allalongtheformlesscoastborderedbydangeroussurf,asifNatureherselfhadtriedtowardoffintruders;inandoutofrivers,streamsofdeathinlife,whosebankswererottingintomud,whosewaters,thickenedintoslime,invadedthecontortedmangroves,thatseemedtowritheatusintheextremityofanimpotentdespair.Nowheredidwestoplongenoughtogetaparticularizedimpression,butthegeneralsenseofvagueandoppressivewondergrewuponme.Itwaslikeawearypilgrimageamongsthintsfornightmares.