Quotation from: Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard

Written by: Joseph Conrad


It appeared that he had never found a safe opportunity to leave Sulaco.
He lodged with Anzani, the universal storekeeper, on the Plaza Mayor.
But when the riot broke out he had made his escape from his host's house
before daylight, and in such a hurry that he had forgotten to put on his
shoes. He had run out impulsively in his socks, and with his hat in his
hand, into the garden of Anzani's house. Fear gave him the necessary
agility to climb over several low walls, and afterwards he blundered
into the overgrown cloisters of the ruined Franciscan convent in one of
the by-streets. He forced himself into the midst of matted bushes with
the recklessness of desperation, and this accounted for his scratched
body and his torn clothing. He lay hidden there all day, his tongue
cleaving to the roof of his mouth with all the intensity of thirst
engendered by heat and fear. Three times different bands of men invaded
the place with shouts and imprecations, looking for Father Corbelan; but
towards the evening, still lying on his face in the bushes, he thought
he would die from the fear of silence. He was not very clear as to what
had induced him to leave the place, but evidently he had got out
and slunk successfully out of town along the deserted back lanes. He
wandered in the darkness near the railway, so maddened by apprehension
that he dared not even approach the fires of the pickets of Italian
workmen guarding the line. He had a vague idea evidently of finding
refuge in the railway yards, but the dogs rushed upon him, barking; men
began to shout; a shot was fired at random. He fled away from the gates.
By the merest accident, as it happened, he took the direction of the
O.S.N. Company's offices. Twice he stumbled upon the bodies of men
killed during the day. But everything living frightened him much more.
He crouched, crept, crawled, made dashes, guided by a sort of animal
instinct, keeping away from every light and from every sound of voices.
His idea was to throw himself at the feet of Captain Mitchell and
beg for shelter in the Company's offices. It was all dark there as
he approached on his hands and knees, but suddenly someone on guard
challenged loudly, "Quien vive?" There were more dead men lying about,
and he flattened himself down at once by the side of a cold corpse. He
heard a voice saying, "Here is one of those wounded rascals crawling
about. Shall I go and finish him?" And another voice objected that it
was not safe to go out without a lantern upon such an errand; perhaps it
was only some negro Liberal looking for a chance to stick a knife into
the stomach of an honest man. Hirsch didn't stay to hear any more, but
crawling away to the end of the wharf, hid himself amongst a lot of
empty casks. After a while some people came along, talking, and with
glowing cigarettes. He did not stop to ask himself whether they would be
likely to do him any harm, but bolted incontinently along the jetty,
saw a lighter lying moored at the end, and threw himself into it. In his
desire to find cover he crept right forward under the half-deck, and he
had remained there more dead than alive, suffering agonies of hunger
and thirst, and almost fainting with terror, when he heard numerous
footsteps and the voices of the Europeans who came in a body escorting
the wagonload of treasure, pushed along the rails by a squad of
Cargadores. He understood perfectly what was being done from the talk,
but did not disclose his presence from the fear that he would not
be allowed to remain. His only idea at the time, overpowering and
masterful, was to get away from this terrible Sulaco. And now he
regretted it very much. He had heard Nostromo talk to Decoud, and wished
himself back on shore. He did not desire to be involved in any desperate
affair--in a situation where one could not run away. The involuntary
groans of his anguished spirit had betrayed him to the sharp ears of the
Capataz.

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