Серце темряви
Chapter 2
Butthewarningcouldnothavebeenmeantfortheplacewhereitcouldbeonlyfoundafterapproach.Somethingwaswrongabove.Butwhat—andhowmuch?Thatwasthequestion.Wecommentedadverselyupontheimbecilityofthattelegraphicstyle.Thebusharoundsaidnothing,andwouldnotletuslookveryfar,either.Atorncurtainofredtwillhunginthedoorwayofthehut,andflappedsadlyinourfaces.Thedwellingwasdismantled;butwecouldseeawhitemanhadlivedtherenotverylongago.Thereremainedarudetable—aplankontwoposts;aheapofrubbishreposedinadarkcorner,andbythedoorIpickedupabook.Ithadlostitscovers,andthepageshadbeenthumbedintoastateofextremelydirtysoftness;butthebackhadbeenlovinglystitchedafreshwithwhitecottonthread,whichlookedcleanyet.Itwasanextraordinaryfind.Itstitlewas,ANINQUIRYINTOSOMEPOINTSOFSEAMANSHIP,byamanTowser,Towson—somesuchname—MasterinhisMajesty’sNavy.Thematterlookeddrearyreadingenough,withillustrativediagramsandrepulsivetablesoffigures,andthecopywassixtyyearsold.Ihandledthisamazingantiquitywiththegreatestpossibletenderness,lestitshoulddissolveinmyhands.Within,TowsonorTowserwasinquiringearnestlyintothebreakingstrainofships’chainsandtackle,andothersuchmatters.
