Page 337 - nostromo-a-tale-of-the-seaboard

thinned considerably towards the morning though there
were no signs of daylight as yet.
The cargo-lighter, relieved of its precious burden, rocked
feebly, half-afloat, with her fore-foot on the sand. A long
rope stretched away like a black cotton thread across the
strip of white beach to the grapnel Nostromo had carried
ashore and hooked to the stem of a tree-like shrub in the
very opening of the ravine.
There was nothing for Decoud but to remain on the is-
land. He received from Nostromo’s hands whatever food the
foresight of Captain Mitchell had put on board the lighter
and deposited it temporarily in the little dinghy which on
their arrival they had hauled up out of sight amongst the
bushes. It was to be left with him. The island was to be a
hiding-place, not a prison; he could pull out to a passing
ship. The O.S.N. Company’s mail boats passed close to the
islands when going into Sulaco from the north. But the Mi-
nerva, carrying off the ex-president, had taken the news up
north of the disturbances in Sulaco. It was possible that the
next steamer down would get instructions to miss the port
altogether since the town, as far as the Minerva’s officers
knew, was for the time being in the hands of the rabble. This
would mean that there would be no steamer for a month,
as far as the mail service went; but Decoud had to take his
chance of that. The island was his only shelter from the pro-
scription hanging over his head. The Capataz was, of course,
going back. The unloaded lighter leaked much less, and he
thought that she would keep afloat as far as the harbour.
He passed to Decoud, standing knee-deep alongside,

Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard