Серце темряви
Chapter 1
Hisaspectwasworried,andhisheadwasasbaldasthepalmofmyhand;buthishairinfallingseemedtohavestucktohischin,andhadprosperedinthenewlocality,forhisbeardhungdowntohiswaist.Hewasawidowerwithsixyoungchildren(hehadlefttheminchargeofasisterofhistocomeoutthere),andthepassionofhislifewaspigeon-flying.Hewasanenthusiastandaconnoisseur.Hewouldraveaboutpigeons.Afterworkhoursheusedsometimestocomeoverfromhishutforatalkabouthischildrenandhispigeons;atwork,whenhehadtocrawlinthemudunderthebottomofthesteamboat,hewouldtieupthatbeardofhisinakindofwhiteserviettehebroughtforthepurpose.Ithadloopstogooverhisears.Intheeveninghecouldbeseensquattedonthebankrinsingthatwrapperinthecreekwithgreatcare,thenspreadingitsolemnlyonabushtodry.
"Islappedhimonthebackandshouted,‘Weshallhaverivets!’Hescrambledtohisfeetexclaiming,‘No!Rivets!’asthoughhecouldn’tbelievehisears.Theninalowvoice,‘You...eh?’Idon’tknowwhywebehavedlikelunatics.Iputmyfingertothesideofmynoseandnoddedmysteriously.‘Goodforyou!’hecried,snappedhisfingersabovehishead,liftingonefoot.Itriedajig.Wecaperedontheirondeck.Afrightfulclattercameoutofthathulk,andthevirginforestontheotherbankofthecreeksentitbackinathunderingrolluponthesleepingstation.Itmusthavemadesomeofthepilgrimssitupintheirhovels.
