Серце темряви

           Ihadtomakeanefforttofreemyeyesfromhisgazeandattendtothesteering.WithonehandIfeltabovemyheadforthelineofthesteamwhistle,andjerkedoutscreechafterscreechhurriedly.Thetumultofangryandwarlikeyellswascheckedinstantly,andthenfromthedepthsofthewoodswentoutsuchatremulousandprolongedwailofmournfulfearandutterdespairasmaybeimaginedtofollowtheflightofthelasthopefromtheearth.Therewasagreatcommotioninthebush;theshowerofarrowsstopped,afewdroppingshotsrangoutsharply—thensilence,inwhichthelanguidbeatofthestern-wheelcameplainlytomyears.Iputthehelmharda-starboardatthemomentwhenthepilgriminpinkpyjamas,veryhotandagitated,appearedinthedoorway.‘Themanagersendsme—’hebeganinanofficialtone,andstoppedshort.‘GoodGod!’hesaid,glaringatthewoundedman.

           "Wetwowhitesstoodoverhim,andhislustrousandinquiringglanceenvelopedusboth.Ideclareitlookedasthoughhewouldpresentlyputtoussomequestionsinanunderstandablelanguage;buthediedwithoututteringasound,withoutmovingalimb,withouttwitchingamuscle.Onlyintheverylastmoment,asthoughinresponsetosomesignwecouldnotsee,tosomewhisperwecouldnothear,hefrownedheavily,andthatfrowngavetohisblackdeath-maskaninconeivablysombre,brooding,andmenacingexpression.Thelustreofinquiringglancefadedswiftlyintovacantglassiness.‘Canyousteer?’Iaskedtheagenteagerly.