Nostromo : A Tale of the Seaboard
stick a knife into the stomach of an honest man. Hirsch didn't stay to hear any more, but, crawling the end of the wharf, hid himself among a lot of empty casks. After a while some people came along talking and with glowing cigarettes. He did stop to ask himself whether they would be likely to do him any harm, but bolted incontinently along the jetty, saw a lighter lying moored at the end, and threw himself into it. In his desire to find cover he crept right forward under the half-deck, and he had remained there more dead than alive, suffering agonies of hunger and thirst, and almost fainting with terror when he heard numerous footsteps and the voices of mt Europeans, who came in a body escorting the wagon-load of treasure pushed along the rails by a squad of cargadores. He understood perfectly what was being done from the talk, but did not disclose his presence from the fear that he would not be allowed to remain. His only idea at the time, overpowering and masterful, was to get away from this terrible Sulaco. And now he regretted it very much. He had heard Nostromo talk to Decoud and wished himself back on shore. He did not desire to be involved in any desperate affair—in a situation where one could not run away. The involuntary groans of his anguished spirit had betrayed him to the sharp ears of capataz.
They had propped him up in a sitting posture against
the side of the lighter, and he went on with the moaning account of his adventures till his voice broke, his bead fell forward. "Water," he whispered, with difficulty. Decoud held one of the cans to his lips. He
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