II + 

вАЬOne evening as I was lying flat on the deck of my steamboat, I heard voices approachingвБ†вАФand there were the nephew and the uncle strolling along the bank. I laid my head on my arm again, and had nearly lost myself in a doze, when somebody said in my ear, as it were: вАШI am as harmless as a little child, but I donвАЩt like to be dictated to. Am I the managerвБ†вАФor am I not? I was ordered to send him there. ItвАЩs incredible.вАЩвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I became aware that the two were standing on the shore alongside the forepart of the steamboat, just below my head. I did not move; it did not occur to me to move: I was sleepy. вАШIt is unpleasant,вАЩ grunted the uncle. вАШHe has asked the Administration to be sent there,вАЩ said the other, вАШwith the idea of showing what he could do; and I was instructed accordingly. Look at the influence that man must have. Is it not frightful?вАЩ They both agreed it was frightful, then made several bizarre remarks: вАШMake rain and fine weatherвБ†вАФone manвБ†вАФthe CouncilвБ†вАФby the noseвАЩвБ†вАФbits of absurd sentences that got the better of my drowsiness, so that I had pretty near the whole of my wits about me when the uncle said, вАШThe climate may do away with this difficulty for you. Is he alone there?вАЩ вАШYes,вАЩ answered the manager; вАШhe sent his assistant down the river with a note to me in these terms: вАЬClear this poor devil out of the country, and donвАЩt bother sending more of that sort. I had rather be alone than have the kind of men you can dispose of with me.вАЭ It was more than a year ago. Can you imagine such impudence!вАЩ вАШAnything since then?вАЩ asked the other hoarsely. вАШIvory,вАЩ jerked the nephew; вАШlots of itвБ†вАФprime sortвБ†вАФlotsвБ†вАФmost annoying, from him.вАЩ вАШAnd with that?вАЩ questioned the heavy rumble. вАШInvoice,вАЩ was the reply fired out, so to speak. Then silence. They had been talking about Kurtz. + 

вАЬI was broad awake by this time, but, lying perfectly at ease, remained still, having no inducement to change my position. вАШHow did that ivory come all this way?вАЩ growled the elder man, who seemed very vexed. The other explained that it had come with a fleet of canoes in charge of an English half-caste clerk Kurtz had with him; that Kurtz had apparently intended to return himself, the station being by that time bare of goods and stores, but after coming three hundred miles, had suddenly decided to go back, which he started to do alone in a small dugout with four paddlers, leaving the half-caste to continue down the river with the ivory. The two fellows there seemed astounded at anybody attempting such a thing. They were at a loss for an adequate motive. As to me, I seemed to see Kurtz for the first time. It was a distinct glimpse: the dugout, four paddling savages, and the lone white man turning his back suddenly on the headquarters, on relief, on thoughts of homeвБ†вАФperhaps; setting his face towards the depths of the wilderness, towards his empty and desolate station. I did not know the motive. Perhaps he was just simply a fine fellow who stuck to his work for its own sake. His name, you understand, had not been pronounced once. He was вАШthat man.вАЩ The half-caste, who, as far as I could see, had conducted a difficult trip with great prudence and pluck, was invariably alluded to as вАШthat scoundrel.вАЩ The вАШscoundrelвАЩ had reported that the вАШmanвАЩ had been very illвБ†вАФhad recovered imperfectly.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ The two below me moved away then a few paces, and strolled back and forth at some little distance. I heard: вАШMilitary postвБ†вАФdoctorвБ†вАФtwo hundred milesвБ†вАФquite alone nowвБ†вАФunavoidable delaysвБ†вАФnine monthsвБ†вАФno newsвБ†вАФstrange rumours.вАЩ They approached again, just as the manager was saying, вАШNo one, as far as I know, unless a species of wandering traderвБ†вАФa pestilential fellow, snapping ivory from the natives.вАЩ Who was it they were talking about now? I gathered in snatches that this was some man supposed to be in KurtzвАЩs district, and of whom the manager did not approve. вАШWe will not be free from unfair competition till one of these fellows is hanged for an example,вАЩ he said. вАШCertainly,вАЩ grunted the other; вАШget him hanged! Why not? AnythingвБ†вАФanything can be done in this country. ThatвАЩs what I say; nobody here, you understand, here, can endanger your position. And why? You stand the climateвБ†вАФyou outlast them all. The danger is in Europe; but there before I left I took care toвБ†вАФвАЩ They moved off and whispered, then their voices rose again. вАШThe extraordinary series of delays is not my fault. I did my best.вАЩ The fat man sighed. вАШVery sad.вАЩ вАШAnd the pestiferous absurdity of his talk,вАЩ continued the other; вАШhe bothered me enough when he was here. вАЬEach station should be like a beacon on the road towards better things, a centre for trade of course, but also for humanizing, improving, instructing.вАЭ Conceive youвБ†вАФthat ass! And he wants to be manager! No, itвАЩsвБ†вАФвАЩ Here he got choked by excessive indignation, and I lifted my head the least bit. I was surprised to see how near they wereвБ†вАФright under me. I could have spat upon their hats. They were looking on the ground, absorbed in thought. The manager was switching his leg with a slender twig: his sagacious relative lifted his head. вАШYou have been well since you came out this time?вАЩ he asked. The other gave a start. вАШWho? I? Oh! Like a charmвБ†вАФlike a charm. But the restвБ†вАФoh, my goodness! All sick. They die so quick, too, that I havenвАЩt the time to send them out of the countryвБ†вАФitвАЩs incredible!вАЩ вАШHmвАЩm. Just so,вАЩ grunted the uncle. вАШAh! my boy, trust to thisвБ†вАФI say, trust to this.вАЩ I saw him extend his short flipper of an arm for a gesture that took in the forest, the creek, the mud, the riverвБ†вАФseemed to beckon with a dishonouring flourish before the sunlit face of the land a treacherous appeal to the lurking death, to the hidden evil, to the profound darkness of its heart. It was so startling that I leaped to my feet and looked back at the edge of the forest, as though I had expected an answer of some sort to that black display of confidence. You know the foolish notions that come to one sometimes. The high stillness confronted these two figures with its ominous patience, waiting for the passing away of a fantastic invasion. + 

вАЬThey swore aloud togetherвБ†вАФout of sheer fright, I believeвБ†вАФthen pretending not to know anything of my existence, turned back to the station. The sun was low; and leaning forward side by side, they seemed to be tugging painfully uphill their two ridiculous shadows of unequal length, that trailed behind them slowly over the tall grass without bending a single blade. + 

вАЬIn a few days the Eldorado Expedition went into the patient wilderness, that closed upon it as the sea closes over a diver. Long afterwards the news came that all the donkeys were dead. I know nothing as to the fate of the less valuable animals. They, no doubt, like the rest of us, found what they deserved. I did not inquire. I was then rather excited at the prospect of meeting Kurtz very soon. When I say very soon I mean it comparatively. It was just two months from the day we left the creek when we came to the bank below KurtzвАЩs station. + 

вАЬGoing up that river was like traveling back to the earliest beginnings of the world, when vegetation rioted on the earth and the big trees were kings. An empty stream, a great silence, an impenetrable forest. The air was warm, thick, heavy, sluggish. There was no joy in the brilliance of sunshine. The long stretches of the waterway ran on, deserted, into the gloom of overshadowed distances. On silvery sandbanks hippos and alligators sunned themselves side by side. The broadening waters flowed through a mob of wooded islands; you lost your way on that river as you would in a desert, and butted all day long against shoals, trying to find the channel, till you thought yourself bewitched and cut off forever from everything you had known onceвБ†вАФsomewhereвБ†вАФfar awayвБ†вАФin another existence perhaps. There were moments when oneвАЩs past came back to one, as it will sometimes when you have not a moment to spare for yourself; but it came in the shape of an unrestful and noisy dream, remembered with wonder amongst the overwhelming realities of this strange world of plants, and water, and silence. And this stillness of life did not in the least resemble a peace. It was the stillness of an implacable force brooding over an inscrutable intention. It looked at you with a vengeful aspect. I got used to it afterwards; I did not see it any more; I had no time. I had to keep guessing at the channel; I had to discern, mostly by inspiration, the signs of hidden banks; I watched for sunken stones; I was learning to clap my teeth smartly before my heart flew out, when I shaved by a fluke some infernal sly old snag that would have ripped the life out of the tinpot steamboat and drowned all the pilgrims; I had to keep a lookout for the signs of dead wood we could cut up in the night for next dayвАЩs steaming. When you have to attend to things of that sort, to the mere incidents of the surface, the realityвБ†вАФthe reality, I tell youвБ†вАФfades. The inner truth is hiddenвБ†вАФluckily, luckily. But I felt it all the same; I felt often its mysterious stillness watching me at my monkey tricks, just as it watches you fellows performing on your respective tightropes forвБ†вАФwhat is it? half-a-crown a tumbleвБ†вАФвАЭ + 

вАЬTry to be civil, Marlow,вАЭ growled a voice, and I knew there was at least one listener awake besides myself. + 

вАЬI beg your pardon. I forgot the heartache which makes up the rest of the price. And indeed what does the price matter, if the trick be well done? You do your tricks very well. And I didnвАЩt do badly either, since I managed not to sink that steamboat on my first trip. ItвАЩs a wonder to me yet. Imagine a blindfolded man set to drive a van over a bad road. I sweated and shivered over that business considerably, I can tell you. After all, for a seaman, to scrape the bottom of the thing thatвАЩs supposed to float all the time under his care is the unpardonable sin. No one may know of it, but you never forget the thumpвБ†вАФeh? A blow on the very heart. You remember it, you dream of it, you wake up at night and think of itвБ†вАФyears afterвБ†вАФand go hot and cold all over. I donвАЩt pretend to say that steamboat floated all the time. More than once she had to wade for a bit, with twenty cannibals splashing around and pushing. We had enlisted some of these chaps on the way for a crew. Fine fellowsвБ†вАФcannibalsвБ†вАФin their place. They were men one could work with, and I am grateful to them. And, after all, they did not eat each other before my face: they had brought along a provision of hippo-meat which went rotten, and made the mystery of the wilderness stink in my nostrils. Phoo! I can sniff it now. I had the manager on board and three or four pilgrims with their stavesвБ†вАФall complete. Sometimes we came upon a station close by the bank, clinging to the skirts of the unknown, and the white men rushing out of a tumbledown hovel, with great gestures of joy and surprise and welcome, seemed very strangeвБ†вАФhad the appearance of being held there captive by a spell. The word ivory would ring in the air for a whileвБ†вАФand on we went again into the silence, along empty reaches, round the still bends, between the high walls of our winding way, reverberating in hollow claps the ponderous beat of the stern-wheel. Trees, trees, millions of trees, massive, immense, running up high; and at their foot, hugging the bank against the stream, crept the little begrimed steamboat, like a sluggish beetle crawling on the floor of a lofty portico. It made you feel very small, very lost, and yet it was not altogether depressing, that feeling. After all, if you were small, the grimy beetle crawled onвБ†вАФwhich was just what you wanted it to do. Where the pilgrims imagined it crawled to I donвАЩt know. To some place where they expected to get something. I bet! For me it crawled towards KurtzвБ†вАФexclusively; but when the steam-pipes started leaking we crawled very slow. The reaches opened before us and closed behind, as if the forest had stepped leisurely across the water to bar the way for our return. We penetrated deeper and deeper into the heart of darkness. It was very quiet there. At night sometimes the roll of drums behind the curtain of trees would run up the river and remain sustained faintly, as if hovering in the air high over our heads, till the first break of day. Whether it meant war, peace, or prayer we could not tell. The dawns were heralded by the descent of a chill stillness; the woodcutters slept, their fires burned low; the snapping of a twig would make you start. We were wanderers on a prehistoric earth, on an earth that wore the aspect of an unknown planet. We could have fancied ourselves the first of men taking possession of an accursed inheritance, to be subdued at the cost of profound anguish and of excessive toil. But suddenly, as we struggled round a bend, there would be a glimpse of rush walls, of peaked grass-roofs, a burst of yells, a whirl of black limbs, a mass of hands clapping, of feet stamping, of bodies swaying, of eyes rolling, under the droop of heavy and motionless foliage. The steamer toiled along slowly on the edge of a black and incomprehensible frenzy. The prehistoric man was cursing us, praying to us, welcoming usвБ†вАФwho could tell? We were cut off from the comprehension of our surroundings; we glided past like phantoms, wondering and secretly appalled, as sane men would be before an enthusiastic outbreak in a madhouse. We could not understand because we were too far and could not remember because we were travelling in the night of first ages, of those ages that are gone, leaving hardly a signвБ†вАФand no memories. + 

вАЬThe earth seemed unearthly. We are accustomed to look upon the shackled form of a conquered monster, but thereвБ†вАФthere you could look at a thing monstrous and free. It was unearthly, and the men wereвБ†вАФNo, they were not inhuman. Well, you know, that was the worst of itвБ†вАФthis suspicion of their not being inhuman. It would come slowly to one. They howled and leaped, and spun, and made horrid faces; but what thrilled you was just the thought of their humanityвБ†вАФlike yoursвБ†вАФthe thought of your remote kinship with this wild and passionate uproar. Ugly. Yes, it was ugly enough; but if you were man enough you would admit to yourself that there was in you just the faintest trace of a response to the terrible frankness of that noise, a dim suspicion of there being a meaning in it which youвБ†вАФyou so remote from the night of first agesвБ†вАФcould comprehend. And why not? The mind of man is capable of anythingвБ†вАФbecause everything is in it, all the past as well as all the future. What was there after all? Joy, fear, sorrow, devotion, valour, rageвБ†вАФwho can tell?вБ†вАФbut truthвБ†вАФtruth stripped of its cloak of time. Let the fool gape and shudderвБ†вАФthe man knows, and can look on without a wink. But he must at least be as much of a man as these on the shore. He must meet that truth with his own true stuffвБ†вАФwith his own inborn strength. Principles wonвАЩt do. Acquisitions, clothes, pretty ragsвБ†вАФrags that would fly off at the first good shake. No; you want a deliberate belief. An appeal to me in this fiendish rowвБ†вАФis there? Very well; I hear; I admit, but I have a voice, too, and for good or evil mine is the speech that cannot be silenced. Of course, a fool, what with sheer fright and fine sentiments, is always safe. WhoвАЩs that grunting? You wonder I didnвАЩt go ashore for a howl and a dance? Well, noвБ†вАФI didnвАЩt. Fine sentiments, you say? Fine sentiments, be hanged! I had no time. I had to mess about with white-lead and strips of woolen blanket helping to put bandages on those leaky steam-pipesвБ†вАФI tell you. I had to watch the steering, and circumvent those snags, and get the tinpot along by hook or by crook. There was surface-truth enough in these things to save a wiser man. And between whiles I had to look after the savage who was fireman. He was an improved specimen; he could fire up a vertical boiler. He was there below me, and, upon my word, to look at him was as edifying as seeing a dog in a parody of breeches and a feather hat, walking on his hind-legs. A few months of training had done for that really fine chap. He squinted at the steam-gauge and at the water-gauge with an evident effort of intrepidityвБ†вАФand he had filed teeth, too, the poor devil, and the wool of his pate shaved into queer patterns, and three ornamental scars on each of his cheeks. He ought to have been clapping his hands and stamping his feet on the bank, instead of which he was hard at work, a thrall to strange witchcraft, full of improving knowledge. He was useful because he had been instructed; and what he knew was thisвБ†вАФthat should the water in that transparent thing disappear, the evil spirit inside the boiler would get angry through the greatness of his thirst, and take a terrible vengeance. So he sweated and fired up and watched the glass fearfully (with an impromptu charm, made of rags, tied to his arm, and a piece of polished bone, as big as a watch, stuck flatways through his lower lip), while the wooded banks slipped past us slowly, the short noise was left behind, the interminable miles of silenceвБ†вАФand we crept on, towards Kurtz. But the snags were thick, the water was treacherous and shallow, the boiler seemed indeed to have a sulky devil in it, and thus neither that fireman nor I had any time to peer into our creepy thoughts. + 

вАЬSome fifty miles below the Inner Station we came upon a hut of reeds, an inclined and melancholy pole, with the unrecognizable tatters of what had been a flag of some sort flying from it, and a neatly stacked woodpile. This was unexpected. We came to the bank, and on the stack of firewood found a flat piece of board with some faded pencil-writing on it. When deciphered it said: вАШWood for you. Hurry up. Approach cautiously.вАЩ There was a signature, but it was illegibleвБ†вАФnot KurtzвБ†вАФa much longer word. вАШHurry up.вАЩ Where? Up the river? вАШApproach cautiously.вАЩ We had not done so. But the warning could not have been meant for the place where it could be only found after approach. Something was wrong above. But whatвБ†вАФand how much? That was the question. We commented adversely upon the imbecility of that telegraphic style. The bush around said nothing, and would not let us look very far, either. A torn curtain of red twill hung in the doorway of the hut, and flapped sadly in our faces. The dwelling was dismantled; but we could see a white man had lived there not very long ago. There remained a rude tableвБ†вАФa plank on two posts; a heap of rubbish reposed in a dark corner, and by the door I picked up a book. It had lost its covers, and the pages had been thumbed into a state of extremely dirty softness; but the back had been lovingly stitched afresh with white cotton thread, which looked clean yet. It was an extraordinary find. Its title was, An Inquiry Into Some Points of Seamanship, by a man Towser, TowsonвБ†вАФsome such nameвБ†вАФMaster in his MajestyвАЩs Navy. The matter looked dreary reading enough, with illustrative diagrams and repulsive tables of figures, and the copy was sixty years old. I handled this amazing antiquity with the greatest possible tenderness, lest it should dissolve in my hands. Within, Towson or Towser was inquiring earnestly into the breaking strain of shipsвАЩ chains and tackle, and other such matters. Not a very enthralling book; but at the first glance you could see there a singleness of intention, an honest concern for the right way of going to work, which made these humble pages, thought out so many years ago, luminous with another than a professional light. The simple old sailor, with his talk of chains and purchases, made me forget the jungle and the pilgrims in a delicious sensation of having come upon something unmistakably real. Such a book being there was wonderful enough; but still more astounding were the notes pencilled in the margin, and plainly referring to the text. I couldnвАЩt believe my eyes! They were in cipher! Yes, it looked like cipher. Fancy a man lugging with him a book of that description into this nowhere and studying itвБ†вАФand making notesвБ†вАФin cipher at that! It was an extravagant mystery. + 

вАЬI had been dimly aware for some time of a worrying noise, and when I lifted my eyes I saw the woodpile was gone, and the manager, aided by all the pilgrims, was shouting at me from the riverside. I slipped the book into my pocket. I assure you to leave off reading was like tearing myself away from the shelter of an old and solid friendship. + 

вАЬI started the lame engine ahead. вАШIt must be this miserable traderвБ†вАФthis intruder,вАЩ exclaimed the manager, looking back malevolently at the place we had left. вАШHe must be English,вАЩ I said. вАШIt will not save him from getting into trouble if he is not careful,вАЩ muttered the manager darkly. I observed with assumed innocence that no man was safe from trouble in this world. + 

вАЬThe current was more rapid now, the steamer seemed at her last gasp, the stern-wheel flopped languidly, and I caught myself listening on tiptoe for the next beat of the boat, for in sober truth I expected the wretched thing to give up every moment. It was like watching the last flickers of a life. But still we crawled. Sometimes I would pick out a tree a little way ahead to measure our progress towards Kurtz by, but I lost it invariably before we got abreast. To keep the eyes so long on one thing was too much for human patience. The manager displayed a beautiful resignation. I fretted and fumed and took to arguing with myself whether or no I would talk openly with Kurtz; but before I could come to any conclusion it occurred to me that my speech or my silence, indeed any action of mine, would be a mere futility. What did it matter what anyone knew or ignored? What did it matter who was manager? One gets sometimes such a flash of insight. The essentials of this affair lay deep under the surface, beyond my reach, and beyond my power of meddling. + 

вАЬTowards the evening of the second day we judged ourselves about eight miles from KurtzвАЩs station. I wanted to push on; but the manager looked grave, and told me the navigation up there was so dangerous that it would be advisable, the sun being very low already, to wait where we were till next morning. Moreover, he pointed out that if the warning to approach cautiously were to be followed, we must approach in daylightвБ†вАФnot at dusk or in the dark. This was sensible enough. Eight miles meant nearly three hoursвАЩ steaming for us, and I could also see suspicious ripples at the upper end of the reach. Nevertheless, I was annoyed beyond expression at the delay, and most unreasonably, too, since one night more could not matter much after so many months. As we had plenty of wood, and caution was the word, I brought up in the middle of the stream. The reach was narrow, straight, with high sides like a railway cutting. The dusk came gliding into it long before the sun had set. The current ran smooth and swift, but a dumb immobility sat on the banks. The living trees, lashed together by the creepers and every living bush of the undergrowth, might have been changed into stone, even to the slenderest twig, to the lightest leaf. It was not sleepвБ†вАФit seemed unnatural, like a state of trance. Not the faintest sound of any kind could be heard. You looked on amazed, and began to suspect yourself of being deafвБ†вАФthen the night came suddenly, and struck you blind as well. About three in the morning some large fish leaped, and the loud splash made me jump as though a gun had been fired. When the sun rose there was a white fog, very warm and clammy, and more blinding than the night. It did not shift or drive; it was just there, standing all round you like something solid. At eight or nine, perhaps, it lifted as a shutter lifts. We had a glimpse of the towering multitude of trees, of the immense matted jungle, with the blazing little ball of the sun hanging over itвБ†вАФall perfectly stillвБ†вАФand then the white shutter came down again, smoothly, as if sliding in greased grooves. I ordered the chain, which we had begun to heave in, to be paid out again. Before it stopped running with a muffled rattle, a cry, a very loud cry, as of infinite desolation, soared slowly in the opaque air. It ceased. A complaining clamour, modulated in savage discords, filled our ears. The sheer unexpectedness of it made my hair stir under my cap. I donвАЩt know how it struck the others: to me it seemed as though the mist itself had screamed, so suddenly, and apparently from all sides at once, did this tumultuous and mournful uproar arise. It culminated in a hurried outbreak of almost intolerably excessive shrieking, which stopped short, leaving us stiffened in a variety of silly attitudes, and obstinately listening to the nearly as appalling and excessive silence. вАШGood God! What is the meaningвБ†вАФвАЩ stammered at my elbow one of the pilgrimsвБ†вАФa little fat man, with sandy hair and red whiskers, who wore sidespring boots, and pink pyjamas tucked into his socks. Two others remained open-mouthed a whole minute, then dashed into the little cabin, to rush out incontinently and stand darting scared glances, with Winchesters at вАШreadyвАЩ in their hands. What we could see was just the steamer we were on, her outlines blurred as though she had been on the point of dissolving, and a misty strip of water, perhaps two feet broad, around herвБ†вАФand that was all. The rest of the world was nowhere, as far as our eyes and ears were concerned. Just nowhere. Gone, disappeared; swept off without leaving a whisper or a shadow behind. + 

вАЬI went forward, and ordered the chain to be hauled in short, so as to be ready to trip the anchor and move the steamboat at once if necessary. вАШWill they attack?вАЩ whispered an awed voice. вАШWe will be all butchered in this fog,вАЩ murmured another. The faces twitched with the strain, the hands trembled slightly, the eyes forgot to wink. It was very curious to see the contrast of expressions of the white men and of the black fellows of our crew, who were as much strangers to that part of the river as we, though their homes were only eight hundred miles away. The whites, of course greatly discomposed, had besides a curious look of being painfully shocked by such an outrageous row. The others had an alert, naturally interested expression; but their faces were essentially quiet, even those of the one or two who grinned as they hauled at the chain. Several exchanged short, grunting phrases, which seemed to settle the matter to their satisfaction. Their headman, a young, broad-chested black, severely draped in dark-blue fringed cloths, with fierce nostrils and his hair all done up artfully in oily ringlets, stood near me. вАШAha!вАЩ I said, just for good fellowshipвАЩs sake. вАШCatch вАЩim,вАЩ he snapped, with a bloodshot widening of his eyes and a flash of sharp teethвБ†вАФвАШcatch вАЩim. Give вАЩim to us.вАЩ вАШTo you, eh?вАЩ I asked; вАШwhat would you do with them?вАЩ вАШEat вАЩim!вАЩ he said curtly, and, leaning his elbow on the rail, looked out into the fog in a dignified and profoundly pensive attitude. I would no doubt have been properly horrified, had it not occurred to me that he and his chaps must be very hungry: that they must have been growing increasingly hungry for at least this month past. They had been engaged for six months (I donвАЩt think a single one of them had any clear idea of time, as we at the end of countless ages have. They still belonged to the beginnings of timeвБ†вАФhad no inherited experience to teach them as it were), and of course, as long as there was a piece of paper written over in accordance with some farcical law or other made down the river, it didnвАЩt enter anybodyвАЩs head to trouble how they would live. Certainly they had brought with them some rotten hippo-meat, which couldnвАЩt have lasted very long, anyway, even if the pilgrims hadnвАЩt, in the midst of a shocking hullabaloo, thrown a considerable quantity of it overboard. It looked like a highhanded proceeding; but it was really a case of legitimate self-defence. You canвАЩt breathe dead hippo waking, sleeping, and eating, and at the same time keep your precarious grip on existence. Besides that, they had given them every week three pieces of brass wire, each about nine inches long; and the theory was they were to buy their provisions with that currency in riverside villages. You can see how that worked. There were either no villages, or the people were hostile, or the director, who like the rest of us fed out of tins, with an occasional old he-goat thrown in, didnвАЩt want to stop the steamer for some more or less recondite reason. So, unless they swallowed the wire itself, or made loops of it to snare the fishes with, I donвАЩt see what good their extravagant salary could be to them. I must say it was paid with a regularity worthy of a large and honourable trading company. For the rest, the only thing to eatвБ†вАФthough it didnвАЩt look eatable in the leastвБ†вАФI saw in their possession was a few lumps of some stuff like half-cooked dough, of a dirty lavender colour, they kept wrapped in leaves, and now and then swallowed a piece of, but so small that it seemed done more for the looks of the thing than for any serious purpose of sustenance. Why in the name of all the gnawing devils of hunger they didnвАЩt go for usвБ†вАФthey were thirty to fiveвБ†вАФand have a good tuck-in for once, amazes me now when I think of it. They were big powerful men, with not much capacity to weigh the consequences, with courage, with strength, even yet, though their skins were no longer glossy and their muscles no longer hard. And I saw that something restraining, one of those human secrets that baffle probability, had come into play there. I looked at them with a swift quickening of interestвБ†вАФnot because it occurred to me I might be eaten by them before very long, though I own to you that just then I perceivedвБ†вАФin a new light, as it wereвБ†вАФhow unwholesome the pilgrims looked, and I hoped, yes, I positively hoped, that my aspect was not soвБ†вАФwhat shall I say?вБ†вАФsoвБ†вАФunappetizing: a touch of fantastic vanity which fitted well with the dream-sensation that pervaded all my days at that time. Perhaps I had a little fever, too. One canвАЩt live with oneвАЩs finger everlastingly on oneвАЩs pulse. I had often вАШa little fever,вАЩ or a little touch of other thingsвБ†вАФthe playful paw-strokes of the wilderness, the preliminary trifling before the more serious onslaught which came in due course. Yes; I looked at them as you would on any human being, with a curiosity of their impulses, motives, capacities, weaknesses, when brought to the test of an inexorable physical necessity. Restraint! What possible restraint? Was it superstition, disgust, patience, fearвБ†вАФor some kind of primitive honour? No fear can stand up to hunger, no patience can wear it out, disgust simply does not exist where hunger is; and as to superstition, beliefs, and what you may call principles, they are less than chaff in a breeze. DonвАЩt you know the devilry of lingering starvation, its exasperating torment, its black thoughts, its sombre and brooding ferocity? Well, I do. It takes a man all his inborn strength to fight hunger properly. ItвАЩs really easier to face bereavement, dishonour, and the perdition of oneвАЩs soulвБ†вАФthan this kind of prolonged hunger. Sad, but true. And these chaps, too, had no earthly reason for any kind of scruple. Restraint! I would just as soon have expected restraint from a hyena prowling amongst the corpses of a battlefield. But there was the fact facing meвБ†вАФthe fact dazzling, to be seen, like the foam on the depths of the sea, like a ripple on an unfathomable enigma, a mystery greaterвБ†вАФwhen I thought of itвБ†вАФthan the curious, inexplicable note of desperate grief in this savage clamour that had swept by us on the riverbank, behind the blind whiteness of the fog. + 

вАЬTwo pilgrims were quarrelling in hurried whispers as to which bank. вАШLeft.вАЩ вАШNo, no; how can you? Right, right, of course.вАЩ вАШIt is very serious,вАЩ said the managerвАЩs voice behind me; вАШI would be desolated if anything should happen to Mr.¬†Kurtz before we came up.вАЩ I looked at him, and had not the slightest doubt he was sincere. He was just the kind of man who would wish to preserve appearances. That was his restraint. But when he muttered something about going on at once, I did not even take the trouble to answer him. I knew, and he knew, that it was impossible. Were we to let go our hold of the bottom, we would be absolutely in the airвБ†вАФin space. We wouldnвАЩt be able to tell where we were going toвБ†вАФwhether up or down stream, or acrossвБ†вАФtill we fetched against one bank or the otherвБ†вАФand then we wouldnвАЩt know at first which it was. Of course I made no move. I had no mind for a smashup. You couldnвАЩt imagine a more deadly place for a shipwreck. Whether we drowned at once or not, we were sure to perish speedily in one way or another. вАШI authorize you to take all the risks,вАЩ he said, after a short silence. вАШI refuse to take any,вАЩ I said shortly; which was just the answer he expected, though its tone might have surprised him. вАШWell, I must defer to your judgment. You are captain,вАЩ he said with marked civility. I turned my shoulder to him in sign of my appreciation, and looked into the fog. How long would it last? It was the most hopeless lookout. The approach to this Kurtz grubbing for ivory in the wretched bush was beset by as many dangers as though he had been an enchanted princess sleeping in a fabulous castle. вАШWill they attack, do you think?вАЩ asked the manager, in a confidential tone. + 

вАЬI did not think they would attack, for several obvious reasons. The thick fog was one. If they left the bank in their canoes they would get lost in it, as we would be if we attempted to move. Still, I had also judged the jungle of both banks quite impenetrableвБ†вАФand yet eyes were in it, eyes that had seen us. The riverside bushes were certainly very thick; but the undergrowth behind was evidently penetrable. However, during the short lift I had seen no canoes anywhere in the reachвБ†вАФcertainly not abreast of the steamer. But what made the idea of attack inconceivable to me was the nature of the noiseвБ†вАФof the cries we had heard. They had not the fierce character boding immediate hostile intention. Unexpected, wild, and violent as they had been, they had given me an irresistible impression of sorrow. The glimpse of the steamboat had for some reason filled those savages with unrestrained grief. The danger, if any, I expounded, was from our proximity to a great human passion let loose. Even extreme grief may ultimately vent itself in violenceвБ†вАФbut more generally takes the form of apathy.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

вАЬYou should have seen the pilgrims stare! They had no heart to grin, or even to revile me: but I believe they thought me gone madвБ†вАФwith fright, maybe. I delivered a regular lecture. My dear boys, it was no good bothering. Keep a lookout? Well, you may guess I watched the fog for the signs of lifting as a cat watches a mouse; but for anything else our eyes were of no more use to us than if we had been buried miles deep in a heap of cotton-wool. It felt like it, tooвБ†вАФchoking, warm, stifling. Besides, all I said, though it sounded extravagant, was absolutely true to fact. What we afterwards alluded to as an attack was really an attempt at repulse. The action was very far from being aggressiveвБ†вАФit was not even defensive, in the usual sense: it was undertaken under the stress of desperation, and in its essence was purely protective. + 

вАЬIt developed itself, I should say, two hours after the fog lifted, and its commencement was at a spot, roughly speaking, about a mile and a half below KurtzвАЩs station. We had just floundered and flopped round a bend, when I saw an islet, a mere grassy hummock of bright green, in the middle of the stream. It was the only thing of the kind; but as we opened the reach more, I perceived it was the head of a long sandbank, or rather of a chain of shallow patches stretching down the middle of the river. They were discoloured, just awash, and the whole lot was seen just under the water, exactly as a manвАЩs backbone is seen running down the middle of his back under the skin. Now, as far as I did see, I could go to the right or to the left of this. I didnвАЩt know either channel, of course. The banks looked pretty well alike, the depth appeared the same; but as I had been informed the station was on the west side, I naturally headed for the western passage. + 

вАЬNo sooner had we fairly entered it than I became aware it was much narrower than I had supposed. To the left of us there was the long uninterrupted shoal, and to the right a high, steep bank heavily overgrown with bushes. Above the bush the trees stood in serried ranks. The twigs overhung the current thickly, and from distance to distance a large limb of some tree projected rigidly over the stream. It was then well on in the afternoon, the face of the forest was gloomy, and a broad strip of shadow had already fallen on the water. In this shadow we steamed upвБ†вАФvery slowly, as you may imagine. I sheered her well inshoreвБ†вАФthe water being deepest near the bank, as the sounding-pole informed me. + 

вАЬOne of my hungry and forbearing friends was sounding in the bows just below me. This steamboat was exactly like a decked scow. On the deck, there were two little teakwood houses, with doors and windows. The boiler was in the fore-end, and the machinery right astern. Over the whole there was a light roof, supported on stanchions. The funnel projected through that roof, and in front of the funnel a small cabin built of light planks served for a pilothouse. It contained a couch, two campstools, a loaded Martini-Henry leaning in one corner, a tiny table, and the steering-wheel. It had a wide door in front and a broad shutter at each side. All these were always thrown open, of course. I spent my days perched up there on the extreme fore-end of that roof, before the door. At night I slept, or tried to, on the couch. An athletic black belonging to some coast tribe and educated by my poor predecessor, was the helmsman. He sported a pair of brass earrings, wore a blue cloth wrapper from the waist to the ankles, and thought all the world of himself. He was the most unstable kind of fool I had ever seen. He steered with no end of a swagger while you were by; but if he lost sight of you, he became instantly the prey of an abject funk, and would let that cripple of a steamboat get the upper hand of him in a minute. + 

вАЬI was looking down at the sounding-pole, and feeling much annoyed to see at each try a little more of it stick out of that river, when I saw my poleman give up on the business suddenly, and stretch himself flat on the deck, without even taking the trouble to haul his pole in. He kept hold on it though, and it trailed in the water. At the same time the fireman, whom I could also see below me, sat down abruptly before his furnace and ducked his head. I was amazed. Then I had to look at the river mighty quick, because there was a snag in the fairway. Sticks, little sticks, were flying aboutвБ†вАФthick: they were whizzing before my nose, dropping below me, striking behind me against my pilothouse. All this time the river, the shore, the woods, were very quietвБ†вАФperfectly quiet. I could only hear the heavy splashing thump of the stern-wheel and the patter of these things. We cleared the snag clumsily. Arrows, by Jove! We were being shot at! I stepped in quickly to close the shutter on the landside. That fool-helmsman, his hands on the spokes, was lifting his knees high, stamping his feet, champing his mouth, like a reined-in horse. Confound him! And we were staggering within ten feet of the bank. I had to lean right out to swing the heavy shutter, and I saw a face amongst the leaves on the level with my own, looking at me very fierce and steady; and then suddenly, as though a veil had been removed from my eyes, I made out, deep in the tangled gloom, naked breasts, arms, legs, glaring eyesвБ†вАФthe bush was swarming with human limbs in movement, glistening of bronze colour. The twigs shook, swayed, and rustled, the arrows flew out of them, and then the shutter came to. вАШSteer her straight,вАЩ I said to the helmsman. He held his head rigid, face forward; but his eyes rolled, he kept on lifting and setting down his feet gently, his mouth foamed a little. вАШKeep quiet!вАЩ I said in a fury. I might just as well have ordered a tree not to sway in the wind. I darted out. Below me there was a great scuffle of feet on the iron deck; confused exclamations; a voice screamed, вАШCan you turn back?вАЩ I caught sight of a V-shaped ripple on the water ahead. What? Another snag! A fusillade burst out under my feet. The pilgrims had opened with their Winchesters, and were simply squirting lead into that bush. A deuce of a lot of smoke came up and drove slowly forward. I swore at it. Now I couldnвАЩt see the ripple or the snag either. I stood in the doorway, peering, and the arrows came in swarms. They might have been poisoned, but they looked as though they wouldnвАЩt kill a cat. The bush began to howl. Our woodcutters raised a warlike whoop; the report of a rifle just at my back deafened me. I glanced over my shoulder, and the pilothouse was yet full of noise and smoke when I made a dash at the wheel. The fool-nigger had dropped everything, to throw the shutter open and let off that Martini-Henry. He stood before the wide opening, glaring, and I yelled at him to come back, while I straightened the sudden twist out of that steamboat. There was no room to turn even if I had wanted to, the snag was somewhere very near ahead in that confounded smoke, there was no time to lose, so I just crowded her into the bankвБ†вАФright into the bank, where I knew the water was deep. + 

вАЬWe tore slowly along the overhanging bushes in a whirl of broken twigs and flying leaves. The fusillade below stopped short, as I had foreseen it would when the squirts got empty. I threw my head back to a glinting whizz that traversed the pilothouse, in at one shutter-hole and out at the other. Looking past that mad helmsman, who was shaking the empty rifle and yelling at the shore, I saw vague forms of men running bent double, leaping, gliding, distinct, incomplete, evanescent. Something big appeared in the air before the shutter, the rifle went overboard, and the man stepped back swiftly, looked at me over his shoulder in an extraordinary, profound, familiar manner, and fell upon my feet. The side of his head hit the wheel twice, and the end of what appeared a long cane clattered round and knocked over a little campstool. It looked as though after wrenching that thing from somebody ashore he had lost his balance in the effort. The thin smoke had blown away, we were clear of the snag, and looking ahead I could see that in another hundred yards or so I would be free to sheer off, away from the bank; but my feet felt so very warm and wet that I had to look down. The man had rolled on his back and stared straight up at me; both his hands clutched that cane. It was the shaft of a spear that, either thrown or lunged through the opening, had caught him in the side, just below the ribs; the blade had gone in out of sight, after making a frightful gash; my shoes were full; a pool of blood lay very still, gleaming dark-red under the wheel; his eyes shone with an amazing lustre. The fusillade burst out again. He looked at me anxiously, gripping the spear like something precious, with an air of being afraid I would try to take it away from him. I had to make an effort to free my eyes from his gaze and attend to the steering. With one hand I felt above my head for the line of the steam whistle, and jerked out screech after screech hurriedly. The tumult of angry and warlike yells was checked instantly, and then from the depths of the woods went out such a tremulous and prolonged wail of mournful fear and utter despair as may be imagined to follow the flight of the last hope from the earth. There was a great commotion in the bush; the shower of arrows stopped, a few dropping shots rang out sharplyвБ†вАФthen silence, in which the languid beat of the stern-wheel came plainly to my ears. I put the helm hard a-starboard at the moment when the pilgrim in pink pyjamas, very hot and agitated, appeared in the doorway. вАШThe manager sends meвБ†вАФвАЩ he began in an official tone, and stopped short. вАШGood God!вАЩ he said, glaring at the wounded man. + 

вАЬWe two whites stood over him, and his lustrous and inquiring glance enveloped us both. I declare it looked as though he would presently put to us some questions in an understandable language; but he died without uttering a sound, without moving a limb, without twitching a muscle. Only in the very last moment, as though in response to some sign we could not see, to some whisper we could not hear, he frowned heavily, and that frown gave to his black death-mask an inconceivably sombre, brooding, and menacing expression. The lustre of inquiring glance faded swiftly into vacant glassiness. вАШCan you steer?вАЩ I asked the agent eagerly. He looked very dubious; but I made a grab at his arm, and he understood at once I meant him to steer whether or no. To tell you the truth, I was morbidly anxious to change my shoes and socks. вАШHe is dead,вАЩ murmured the fellow, immensely impressed. вАШNo doubt about it,вАЩ said I, tugging like mad at the shoelaces. вАШAnd by the way, I suppose Mr.¬†Kurtz is dead as well by this time.вАЩ + 

вАЬFor the moment that was the dominant thought. There was a sense of extreme disappointment, as though I had found out I had been striving after something altogether without a substance. I couldnвАЩt have been more disgusted if I had travelled all this way for the sole purpose of talking with Mr.¬†Kurtz. Talking withвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ I flung one shoe overboard, and became aware that that was exactly what I had been looking forward toвБ†вАФa talk with Kurtz. I made the strange discovery that I had never imagined him as doing, you know, but as discoursing. I didnвАЩt say to myself, вАШNow I will never see him,вАЩ or вАШNow I will never shake him by the hand,вАЩ but, вАШNow I will never hear him.вАЩ The man presented himself as a voice. Not of course that I did not connect him with some sort of action. HadnвАЩt I been told in all the tones of jealousy and admiration that he had collected, bartered, swindled, or stolen more ivory than all the other agents together? That was not the point. The point was in his being a gifted creature, and that of all his gifts the one that stood out preeminently, that carried with it a sense of real presence, was his ability to talk, his wordsвБ†вАФthe gift of expression, the bewildering, the illuminating, the most exalted and the most contemptible, the pulsating stream of light, or the deceitful flow from the heart of an impenetrable darkness. + 

вАЬThe other shoe went flying unto the devil-god of that river. I thought, вАШBy Jove! itвАЩs all over. We are too late; he has vanishedвБ†вАФthe gift has vanished, by means of some spear, arrow, or club. I will never hear that chap speak after allвАЩвБ†вАФand my sorrow had a startling extravagance of emotion, even such as I had noticed in the howling sorrow of these savages in the bush. I couldnвАЩt have felt more of lonely desolation somehow, had I been robbed of a belief or had missed my destiny in life.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Why do you sigh in this beastly way, somebody? Absurd? Well, absurd. Good Lord! mustnвАЩt a man everвБ†вАФHere, give me some tobacco.вАЭвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ + 

There was a pause of profound stillness, then a match flared, and MarlowвАЩs lean face appeared, worn, hollow, with downward folds and dropped eyelids, with an aspect of concentrated attention; and as he took vigorous draws at his pipe, it seemed to retreat and advance out of the night in the regular flicker of tiny flame. The match went out. + 

вАЬAbsurd!вАЭ he cried. вАЬThis is the worst of trying to tell.вБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Here you all are, each moored with two good addresses, like a hulk with two anchors, a butcher round one corner, a policeman round another, excellent appetites, and temperature normalвБ†вАФyou hearвБ†вАФnormal from yearвАЩs end to yearвАЩs end. And you say, Absurd! Absurd beвБ†вАФexploded! Absurd! My dear boys, what can you expect from a man who out of sheer nervousness had just flung overboard a pair of new shoes! Now I think of it, it is amazing I did not shed tears. I am, upon the whole, proud of my fortitude. I was cut to the quick at the idea of having lost the inestimable privilege of listening to the gifted Kurtz. Of course I was wrong. The privilege was waiting for me. Oh, yes, I heard more than enough. And I was right, too. A voice. He was very little more than a voice. And I heardвБ†вАФhimвБ†вАФitвБ†вАФthis voiceвБ†вАФother voicesвБ†вАФall of them were so little more than voicesвБ†вАФand the memory of that time itself lingers around me, impalpable, like a dying vibration of one immense jabber, silly, atrocious, sordid, savage, or simply mean, without any kind of sense. Voices, voicesвБ†вАФeven the girl herselfвБ†вАФnowвБ†вАФвАЭ + 

He was silent for a long time. + 

вАЬI laid the ghost of his gifts at last with a lie,вАЭ he began, suddenly. вАЬGirl! What? Did I mention a girl? Oh, she is out of itвБ†вАФcompletely. TheyвБ†вАФthe women, I meanвБ†вАФare out of itвБ†вАФshould be out of it. We must help them to stay in that beautiful world of their own, lest ours gets worse. Oh, she had to be out of it. You should have heard the disinterred body of Mr.¬†Kurtz saying, вАШMy Intended.вАЩ You would have perceived directly then how completely she was out of it. And the lofty frontal bone of Mr.¬†Kurtz! They say the hair goes on growing sometimes, but thisвБ†вАФahвБ†вАФspecimen, was impressively bald. The wilderness had patted him on the head, and, behold, it was like a ballвБ†вАФan ivory ball; it had caressed him, andвБ†вАФlo!вБ†вАФhe had withered; it had taken him, loved him, embraced him, got into his veins, consumed his flesh, and sealed his soul to its own by the inconceivable ceremonies of some devilish initiation. He was its spoiled and pampered favourite. Ivory? I should think so. Heaps of it, stacks of it. The old mud shanty was bursting with it. You would think there was not a single tusk left either above or below the ground in the whole country. вАШMostly fossil,вАЩ the manager had remarked, disparagingly. It was no more fossil than I am; but they call it fossil when it is dug up. It appears these niggers do bury the tusks sometimesвБ†вАФbut evidently they couldnвАЩt bury this parcel deep enough to save the gifted Mr.¬†Kurtz from his fate. We filled the steamboat with it, and had to pile a lot on the deck. Thus he could see and enjoy as long as he could see, because the appreciation of this favour had remained with him to the last. You should have heard him say, вАШMy ivory.вАЩ Oh, yes, I heard him. вАШMy Intended, my ivory, my station, my river, myвБ†вАФвАЩ everything belonged to him. It made me hold my breath in expectation of hearing the wilderness burst into a prodigious peal of laughter that would shake the fixed stars in their places. Everything belonged to himвБ†вАФbut that was a trifle. The thing was to know what he belonged to, how many powers of darkness claimed him for their own. That was the reflection that made you creepy all over. It was impossibleвБ†вАФit was not good for one eitherвБ†вАФtrying to imagine. He had taken a high seat amongst the devils of the landвБ†вАФI mean literally. You canвАЩt understand. How could you?вБ†вАФwith solid pavement under your feet, surrounded by kind neighbours ready to cheer you or to fall on you, stepping delicately between the butcher and the policeman, in the holy terror of scandal and gallows and lunatic asylumsвБ†вАФhow can you imagine what particular region of the first ages a manвАЩs untrammelled feet may take him into by the way of solitudeвБ†вАФutter solitude without a policemanвБ†вАФby the way of silenceвБ†вАФutter silence, where no warning voice of a kind neighbour can be heard whispering of public opinion? These little things make all the great difference. When they are gone you must fall back upon your own innate strength, upon your own capacity for faithfulness. Of course you may be too much of a fool to go wrongвБ†вАФtoo dull even to know you are being assaulted by the powers of darkness. I take it, no fool ever made a bargain for his soul with the devil; the fool is too much of a fool, or the devil too much of a devilвБ†вАФI donвАЩt know which. Or you may be such a thunderingly exalted creature as to be altogether deaf and blind to anything but heavenly sights and sounds. Then the earth for you is only a standing placeвБ†вАФand whether to be like this is your loss or your gain I wonвАЩt pretend to say. But most of us are neither one nor the other. The earth for us is a place to live in, where we must put up with sights, with sounds, with smells, too, by Jove!вБ†вАФbreathe dead hippo, so to speak, and not be contaminated. And there, donвАЩt you see? Your strength comes in, the faith in your ability for the digging of unostentatious holes to bury the stuff inвБ†вАФyour power of devotion, not to yourself, but to an obscure, backbreaking business. And thatвАЩs difficult enough. Mind, I am not trying to excuse or even explainвБ†вАФI am trying to account to myself forвБ†вАФforвБ†вАФMr.¬†KurtzвБ†вАФfor the shade of Mr.¬†Kurtz. This initiated wraith from the back of Nowhere honoured me with its amazing confidence before it vanished altogether. This was because it could speak English to me. The original Kurtz had been educated partly in England, andвБ†вАФas he was good enough to say himselfвБ†вАФhis sympathies were in the right place. His mother was half-English, his father was half-French. All Europe contributed to the making of Kurtz; and by and by I learned that, most appropriately, the International Society for the Suppression of Savage Customs had entrusted him with the making of a report, for its future guidance. And he had written it, too. IвАЩve seen it. IвАЩve read it. It was eloquent, vibrating with eloquence, but too high-strung, I think. Seventeen pages of close writing he had found time for! But this must have been before hisвБ†вАФlet us sayвБ†вАФnerves, went wrong, and caused him to preside at certain midnight dances ending with unspeakable rites, whichвБ†вАФas far as I reluctantly gathered from what I heard at various timesвБ†вАФwere offered up to himвБ†вАФdo you understand?вБ†вАФto Mr.¬†Kurtz himself. But it was a beautiful piece of writing. The opening paragraph, however, in the light of later information, strikes me now as ominous. He began with the argument that we whites, from the point of development we had arrived at, вАШmust necessarily appear to them [savages] in the nature of supernatural beingsвБ†вАФwe approach them with the might of a deity,вАЩ and so on, and so on. вАШBy the simple exercise of our will we can exert a power for good practically unbounded,вАЩ etc., etc. From that point he soared and took me with him. The peroration was magnificent, though difficult to remember, you know. It gave me the notion of an exotic Immensity ruled by an august Benevolence. It made me tingle with enthusiasm. This was the unbounded power of eloquenceвБ†вАФof wordsвБ†вАФof burning noble words. There were no practical hints to interrupt the magic current of phrases, unless a kind of note at the foot of the last page, scrawled evidently much later, in an unsteady hand, may be regarded as the exposition of a method. It was very simple, and at the end of that moving appeal to every altruistic sentiment it blazed at you, luminous and terrifying, like a flash of lightning in a serene sky: вАШExterminate all the brutes!вАЩ The curious part was that he had apparently forgotten all about that valuable postscriptum, because, later on, when he in a sense came to himself, he repeatedly entreated me to take good care of вАШmy pamphletвАЩ (he called it), as it was sure to have in the future a good influence upon his career. I had full information about all these things, and, besides, as it turned out, I was to have the care of his memory. IвАЩve done enough for it to give me the indisputable right to lay it, if I choose, for an everlasting rest in the dustbin of progress, amongst all the sweepings and, figuratively speaking, all the dead cats of civilization. But then, you see, I canвАЩt choose. He wonвАЩt be forgotten. Whatever he was, he was not common. He had the power to charm or frighten rudimentary souls into an aggravated witch-dance in his honour; he could also fill the small souls of the pilgrims with bitter misgivings: he had one devoted friend at least, and he had conquered one soul in the world that was neither rudimentary nor tainted with self-seeking. No; I canвАЩt forget him, though I am not prepared to affirm the fellow was exactly worth the life we lost in getting to him. I missed my late helmsman awfullyвБ†вАФI missed him even while his body was still lying in the pilothouse. Perhaps you will think it passing strange this regret for a savage who was no more account than a grain of sand in a black Sahara. Well, donвАЩt you see, he had done something, he had steered; for months I had him at my backвБ†вАФa helpвБ†вАФan instrument. It was a kind of partnership. He steered for meвБ†вАФI had to look after him, I worried about his deficiencies, and thus a subtle bond had been created, of which I only became aware when it was suddenly broken. And the intimate profundity of that look he gave me when he received his hurt remains to this day in my memoryвБ†вАФlike a claim of distant kinship affirmed in a supreme moment. + 

вАЬPoor fool! If he had only left that shutter alone. He had no restraint, no restraintвБ†вАФjust like KurtzвБ†вАФa tree swayed by the wind. As soon as I had put on a dry pair of slippers, I dragged him out, after first jerking the spear out of his side, which operation I confess I performed with my eyes shut tight. His heels leaped together over the little doorstep; his shoulders were pressed to my breast; I hugged him from behind desperately. Oh! he was heavy, heavy; heavier than any man on earth, I should imagine. Then without more ado I tipped him overboard. The current snatched him as though he had been a wisp of grass, and I saw the body roll over twice before I lost sight of it forever. All the pilgrims and the manager were then congregated on the awning-deck about the pilothouse, chattering at each other like a flock of excited magpies, and there was a scandalized murmur at my heartless promptitude. What they wanted to keep that body hanging about for I canвАЩt guess. Embalm it, maybe. But I had also heard another, and a very ominous, murmur on the deck below. My friends the woodcutters were likewise scandalized, and with a better show of reasonвБ†вАФthough I admit that the reason itself was quite inadmissible. Oh, quite! I had made up my mind that if my late helmsman was to be eaten, the fishes alone should have him. He had been a very second-rate helmsman while alive, but now he was dead he might have become a first-class temptation, and possibly cause some startling trouble. Besides, I was anxious to take the wheel, the man in pink pyjamas showing himself a hopeless duffer at the business. + 

вАЬThis I did directly the simple funeral was over. We were going half-speed, keeping right in the middle of the stream, and I listened to the talk about me. They had given up Kurtz, they had given up the station; Kurtz was dead, and the station had been burntвБ†вАФand so onвБ†вАФand so on. The red-haired pilgrim was beside himself with the thought that at least this poor Kurtz had been properly avenged. вАШSay! We must have made a glorious slaughter of them in the bush. Eh? What do you think? Say?вАЩ He positively danced, the bloodthirsty little gingery beggar. And he had nearly fainted when he saw the wounded man! I could not help saying, вАШYou made a glorious lot of smoke, anyhow.вАЩ I had seen, from the way the tops of the bushes rustled and flew, that almost all the shots had gone too high. You canвАЩt hit anything unless you take aim and fire from the shoulder; but these chaps fired from the hip with their eyes shut. The retreat, I maintainedвБ†вАФand I was rightвБ†вАФwas caused by the screeching of the steam whistle. Upon this they forgot Kurtz, and began to howl at me with indignant protests. + 

вАЬThe manager stood by the wheel murmuring confidentially about the necessity of getting well away down the river before dark at all events, when I saw in the distance a clearing on the riverside and the outlines of some sort of building. вАШWhatвАЩs this?вАЩ I asked. He clapped his hands in wonder. вАШThe station!вАЩ he cried. I edged in at once, still going half-speed. + 

вАЬThrough my glasses I saw the slope of a hill interspersed with rare trees and perfectly free from undergrowth. A long decaying building on the summit was half buried in the high grass; the large holes in the peaked roof gaped black from afar; the jungle and the woods made a background. There was no enclosure or fence of any kind; but there had been one apparently, for near the house half-a-dozen slim posts remained in a row, roughly trimmed, and with their upper ends ornamented with round carved balls. The rails, or whatever there had been between, had disappeared. Of course the forest surrounded all that. The riverbank was clear, and on the waterside I saw a white man under a hat like a cartwheel beckoning persistently with his whole arm. Examining the edge of the forest above and below, I was almost certain I could see movementsвБ†вАФhuman forms gliding here and there. I steamed past prudently, then stopped the engines and let her drift down. The man on the shore began to shout, urging us to land. вАШWe have been attacked,вАЩ screamed the manager. вАШI knowвБ†вАФI know. ItвАЩs all right,вАЩ yelled back the other, as cheerful as you please. вАШCome along. ItвАЩs all right. I am glad.вАЩ + 

вАЬHis aspect reminded me of something I had seenвБ†вАФsomething funny I had seen somewhere. As I manoeuvred to get alongside, I was asking myself, вАШWhat does this fellow look like?вАЩ Suddenly I got it. He looked like a harlequin. His clothes had been made of some stuff that was brown holland probably, but it was covered with patches all over, with bright patches, blue, red, and yellowвБ†вАФpatches on the back, patches on the front, patches on elbows, on knees; coloured binding around his jacket, scarlet edging at the bottom of his trousers; and the sunshine made him look extremely gay and wonderfully neat withal, because you could see how beautifully all this patching had been done. A beardless, boyish face, very fair, no features to speak of, nose peeling, little blue eyes, smiles and frowns chasing each other over that open countenance like sunshine and shadow on a windswept plain. вАШLook out, captain!вАЩ he cried; вАШthereвАЩs a snag lodged in here last night.вАЩ What! Another snag? I confess I swore shamefully. I had nearly holed my cripple, to finish off that charming trip. The harlequin on the bank turned his little pug-nose up to me. вАШYou English?вАЩ he asked, all smiles. вАШAre you?вАЩ I shouted from the wheel. The smiles vanished, and he shook his head as if sorry for my disappointment. Then he brightened up. вАШNever mind!вАЩ he cried encouragingly. вАШAre we in time?вАЩ I asked. вАШHe is up there,вАЩ he replied, with a toss of the head up the hill, and becoming gloomy all of a sudden. His face was like the autumn sky, overcast one moment and bright the next. + 

вАЬWhen the manager, escorted by the pilgrims, all of them armed to the teeth, had gone to the house this chap came on board. вАШI say, I donвАЩt like this. These natives are in the bush,вАЩ I said. He assured me earnestly it was all right. вАШThey are simple people,вАЩ he added; вАШwell, I am glad you came. It took me all my time to keep them off.вАЩ вАШBut you said it was all right,вАЩ I cried. вАШOh, they meant no harm,вАЩ he said; and as I stared he corrected himself, вАШNot exactly.вАЩ Then vivaciously, вАШMy faith, your pilothouse wants a cleanup!вАЩ In the next breath he advised me to keep enough steam on the boiler to blow the whistle in case of any trouble. вАШOne good screech will do more for you than all your rifles. They are simple people,вАЩ he repeated. He rattled away at such a rate he quite overwhelmed me. He seemed to be trying to make up for lots of silence, and actually hinted, laughing, that such was the case. вАШDonвАЩt you talk with Mr.¬†Kurtz?вАЩ I said. вАШYou donвАЩt talk with that manвБ†вАФyou listen to him,вАЩ he exclaimed with severe exaltation. вАШBut nowвБ†вАФвАЩ He waved his arm, and in the twinkling of an eye was in the uttermost depths of despondency. In a moment he came up again with a jump, possessed himself of both my hands, shook them continuously, while he gabbled: вАШBrother sailorвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ honourвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ pleasureвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ delightвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ introduce myselfвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ RussianвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ son of an archpriestвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ Government of TambovвБ†вАКвБ†вА¶ What? Tobacco! English tobacco; the excellent English tobacco! Now, thatвАЩs brotherly. Smoke? WhereвАЩs a sailor that does not smoke?вАЭ + 

вАЬThe pipe soothed him, and gradually I made out he had run away from school, had gone to sea in a Russian ship; ran away again; served some time in English ships; was now reconciled with the archpriest. He made a point of that. вАШBut when one is young one must see things, gather experience, ideas; enlarge the mind.вАЩ вАШHere!вАЩ I interrupted. вАШYou can never tell! Here I met Mr.¬†Kurtz,вАЩ he said, youthfully solemn and reproachful. I held my tongue after that. It appears he had persuaded a Dutch trading-house on the coast to fit him out with stores and goods, and had started for the interior with a light heart and no more idea of what would happen to him than a baby. He had been wandering about that river for nearly two years alone, cut off from everybody and everything. вАШI am not so young as I look. I am twenty-five,вАЩ he said. вАШAt first old Van Shuyten would tell me to go to the devil,вАЩ he narrated with keen enjoyment; вАШbut I stuck to him, and talked and talked, till at last he got afraid I would talk the hind-leg off his favourite dog, so he gave me some cheap things and a few guns, and told me he hoped he would never see my face again. Good old Dutchman, Van Shuyten. IвАЩve sent him one small lot of ivory a year ago, so that he canвАЩt call me a little thief when I get back. I hope he got it. And for the rest I donвАЩt care. I had some wood stacked for you. That was my old house. Did you see?вАЩ + 

вАЬI gave him TowsonвАЩs book. He made as though he would kiss me, but restrained himself. вАШThe only book I had left, and I thought I had lost it,вАЩ he said, looking at it ecstatically. вАШSo many accidents happen to a man going about alone, you know. Canoes get upset sometimesвБ†вАФand sometimes youвАЩve got to clear out so quick when the people get angry.вАЩ He thumbed the pages. вАШYou made notes in Russian?вАЩ I asked. He nodded. вАШI thought they were written in cipher,вАЩ I said. He laughed, then became serious. вАШI had lots of trouble to keep these people off,вАЩ he said. вАШDid they want to kill you?вАЩ I asked. вАШOh, no!вАЩ he cried, and checked himself. вАШWhy did they attack us?вАЩ I pursued. He hesitated, then said shamefacedly, вАШThey donвАЩt want him to go.вАЩ вАШDonвАЩt they?вАЩ I said curiously. He nodded a nod full of mystery and wisdom. вАШI tell you,вАЩ he cried, вАШthis man has enlarged my mind.вАЩ He opened his arms wide, staring at me with his little blue eyes that were perfectly round.вАЭ + 