Page 296 - nostromo-a-tale-of-the-seaboard

‘We are out in the gulf now,’ said the calm voice of Nos-
tromo. A moment after he added, ‘Senor Mitchell has
lowered the light.’
‘Yes,’ said Decoud; ‘nobody can find us now.’
A great recrudescence of obscurity embraced the boat.
The sea in the gulf was as black as the clouds above. Nos-
tromo, after striking a couple of matches to get a glimpse of
the boat-compass he had with him in the lighter, steered by
the feel of the wind on his cheek.
It was a new experience for Decoud, this mysteriousness
of the great waters spread out strangely smooth, as if their
restlessness had been crushed by the weight of that dense
night. The Placido was sleeping profoundly under its black
poncho.
The main thing now for success was to get away from
the coast and gain the middle of the gulf before day broke.
The Isabels were somewhere at hand. ‘On your left as you
look forward, senor,’ said Nostromo, suddenly. When his
voice ceased, the enormous stillness, without light or sound,
seemed to affect Decoud’s senses like a powerful drug. He
didn’t even know at times whether he were asleep or awake.
Like a man lost in slumber, he heard nothing, he saw noth-
ing. Even his hand held before his face did not exist for his
eyes. The change from the agitation, the passions and the
dangers, from the sights and sounds of the shore, was so
complete that it would have resembled death had it not been
for the survival of his thoughts. In this foretaste of eter-
nal peace they floated vivid and light, like unearthly clear
dreams of earthly things that may haunt the souls freed by