Nostromo : A Tale of the Seaboard
wrathfully, "that in three strokes would cut through the side down to the water's edge. Moreover, each lighter has a plug in the stern and I know exactly where it is. I feel it under the sole of my foot."
Decoud recognized the ring of genuine determination in the nervous murmurs, the vindictive excitement of the famous capataz. Before the steamer, guided by a shriek or two (for there could be no more than that, Nostromo said, gnashing his teeth audibly), could find the lighter there would be plenty of time to sink this treasure tied up round his neck.
The last words he hissed into Decoud's ear. Decoud said nothing. He was perfectly convinced. The usual characteristic quietness of the man was gone. It was not equal to the situation as he conceived it. Something deeper, something unsuspected by everyone had come to the surface. Decoud, with careful movements, slipped off his overcoat and divested himself of his boots; he did not consider himself bound in honor to sink with the treasure. His object was to get down to Barrios in Cayta, as the capataz knew well; and he, too, meant in his own way to put into that attempt all the desperation of which he was capable. Nostromo muttered, "True, true! You are a politician, señor. Rejoin the army and start another revolution." He pointed out, however, that there was a little boat belonging to every lighter fit to carry two men if not more. Theirs was towing behind.
Of that Decoud had not been aware. Of course it too dark to see, and it was only when Nostromo put his hand upon its painter fastened to a cleat in the stern that he experienced a full measure of relief.
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