Серце темряви

           Belowmetherewasagreatscuffleoffeetontheirondeck;confusedexclamations;avoicescreamed,‘Canyouturnback?’IcaughtsightofaV-shapedrippleonthewaterahead.What?Anothersnag!Afusilladeburstoutundermyfeet.ThepilgrimshadopenedwiththeirWinchesters,andweresimplysquirtingleadintothatbush.Adeuceofalotofsmokecameupanddroveslowlyforward.Isworeatit.NowIcouldn’tseetherippleorthesnageither.Istoodinthedoorway,peering,andthearrowscameinswarms.Theymighthavebeenpoisoned,buttheylookedasthoughtheywouldn’tkillacat.Thebushbegantohowl.Ourwood-cuttersraisedawarlikewhoop;thereportofariflejustatmybackdeafenedme.Iglancedovermyshoulder,andthepilot-housewasyetfullofnoiseandsmokewhenImadeadashatthewheel.Thefool-niggerhaddroppedeverything,tothrowtheshutteropenandletoffthatMartini–Henry.Hestoodbeforethewideopening,glaring,andIyelledathimtocomeback,whileIstraightenedthesuddentwistoutofthatsteamboat.TherewasnoroomtoturnevenifIhadwantedto,thesnagwassomewhereverynearaheadinthatconfoundedsmoke,therewasnotimetolose,soIjustcrowdedherintothebank—rightintothebank,whereIknewthewaterwasdeep.

           "Wetoreslowlyalongtheoverhangingbushesinawhirlofbrokentwigsandflyingleaves.Thefusilladebelowstoppedshort,asIhadforeseenitwouldwhenthesquirtsgotempty.