Page 315 - nostromo-a-tale-of-the-seaboard

the fixed gaze of his daughter. God knows whether the old
statesman had understood it; he was unable to speak, but
he had certainly lifted his arm off the coverlet; his hand had
moved as if to make the sign of the cross in the air, a ges-
ture of blessing, of consent. Decoud had that very draft in
his pocket, written in pencil on several loose sheets of pa-
per, with the heavily-printed heading, ‘Administration of
the San Tome Silver Mine. Sulaco. Republic of Costaguana.’
He had written it furiously, snatching page after page on
Charles Gould’s table. Mrs. Gould had looked several times
over his shoulder as he wrote; but the Senor Administra-
dor, standing straddle-legged, would not even glance at it
when it was finished. He had waved it away firmly. It must
have been scorn, and not caution, since he never made a re-
mark about the use of the Administration’s paper for such
a compromising document. And that showed his disdain,
the true English disdain of common prudence, as if every-
thing outside the range of their own thoughts and feelings
were unworthy of serious recognition. Decoud had the time
in a second or two to become furiously angry with Charles
Gould, and even resentful against Mrs. Gould, in whose
care, tacitly it is true, he had left the safety of Antonia. Bet-
ter perish a thousand times than owe your preservation to
such people, he exclaimed mentally. The grip of Nostromo’s
fingers never removed from his shoulder, tightening fiercely,
recalled him to himself.
‘The darkness is our friend,’ the Capataz murmured into
his ear. ‘I am going to lower the sail, and trust our escape to
this black gulf. No eyes could make us out lying silent with

1 Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard