Nostromo - A Tale of the Seaboard.pdf - Planet eBook

droop of beak and claws.Long after he had vanished, Nostromo, lifting his eyesup to the sky, muttered, ‘I am not dead yet.’The Capataz of the Sulaco Cargadores had lived in splendourand publicity up to the very moment, as it were, whenhe took charge of the lighter containing the treasure of silveringots.The last act he had performed in Sulaco was in completeharmony with his vanity, and as such perfectly genuine. Hehad given his last dollar to an old woman moaning with thegrief and fatigue of a dismal search under the arch of the ancientgate. Performed in obscurity and without witnesses, ithad still the characteristics of splendour and publicity, andwas in strict keeping with his reputation. But this awakeningin solitude, except for the watchful vulture, amongst theruins of the fort, had no such characteristics. His first confusedfeeling was exactly this—that it was not in keeping.It was more like the end of things. The necessity of livingconcealed somehow, for God knows how long, which assailedhim on his return to consciousness, made everythingthat had gone before for years appear vain and foolish, likea flattering dream come suddenly to an end.He climbed the crumbling slope of the rampart, and,putting aside the bushes, looked upon the harbour. He sawa couple of ships at anchor upon the sheet of water reflectingthe last gleams of light, and Sotillo’s steamer mooredto the jetty. And behind the pale long front of the CustomHouse, there appeared the extent of the town like a groveof thick timber on the plain with a gateway in front, and