Ностромо
Chapter 8
TheCapatazdeCargadores,onarevulsionofsubjectiveness,exasperatedalmosttoinsanity,beheldallhisworldwithoutfaithandcourage.Hehadbeenbetrayed!
Withtheboundlessshadowsoftheseabehindhim,outofhissilenceandimmobility,facingtheloftyshapesofthelowerpeakscrowdedaroundthewhite,mistysheenofHiguerota,Nostromolaughedaloudagain,sprangabruptlytohisfeet,andstoodstill.Hemustgo.Butwhere?
“Thereisnomistake.Theykeepusandencourageusasifweweredogsborntofightandhuntforthem.Thevecchioisright,”hesaid,slowlyandscathingly.HerememberedoldGiorgiotakinghispipeoutofhismouthtothrowthesewordsoverhisshoulderatthecafe,fullofengine-driversandfittersfromtherailwayworkshops.Thisimagefixedhiswaveringpurpose.HewouldtrytofindoldGiorgioifhecould.Godknowswhatmighthavehappenedtohim!Hemadeafewsteps,thenstoppedagainandshookhishead.Totheleftandright,infrontandbehindhim,thescrubbybushrustledmysteriouslyinthedarkness.
“Teresawasright,too,”headdedinalowtonetouchedwithawe.Hewonderedwhethershewasdeadinherangerwithhimorstillalive.Asifinanswertothisthought,halfofremorseandhalfofhope,withasoftflutterandobliqueflight,abigowl,whoseappallingcry:“Ya-acabo!Ya-acabo!—itisfinished;itisfinished”—announcescalamityanddeathinthepopularbelief,driftedvaguelylikealargedarkballacrosshispath.
