Page 449 - nostromo-a-tale-of-the-seaboard

‘But that is talk—good for the politicos. I am a military
man. I do not know what may happen. But I know what
ought to be done—the mine should march upon the town
with guns, axes, knives tied up to sticks—por Dios. That is
what should be done. Only—‘
His folded hands twitched on the hilt. The cigar turned
faster in the corner of his lips.
‘And who should lead but I? Unfortunately—observe—I
have given my word of honour to Don Carlos not to let the
mine fall into the hands of these thieves. In war—you know
this, Padre—the fate of battles is uncertain, and whom could
I leave here to act for me in case of defeat? The explosives are
ready. But it would require a man of high honour, of intel-
ligence, of judgment, of courage, to carry out the prepared
destruction. Somebody I can trust with my honour as I can
trust myself. Another old officer of Paez, for instance. Or—
or—perhaps one of Paez’s old chaplains would do.’
He got up, long, lank, upright, hard, with his martial
moustache and the bony structure of his face, from which
the glance of the sunken eyes seemed to transfix the priest,
who stood still, an empty wooden snuff-box held upside
down in his hand, and glared back, speechless, at the gov-
ernor of the mine.

Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard