Lord Jim by Joseph Conrad (best ebook reader for chromebook .txt) 📕

spectre of fear less than an hour ago, but I let him capture me without even a show of resistance. I was doomed to be the recipient of confidences, and to be confronted with unanswerable questions. It was trying; but the contempt, the unreasoned contempt, the man’s appearance provoked, made it easier to bear. He couldn’t possibly matter. Nothing mattered, since I had made up my mind that Jim, for whom alone I cared, had at last mastered his fate. He had told me he was satisfied⁠ ⁠… nearly. This is going further than most of us dare. I⁠—who have the right to think myself good enough⁠—dare not. Neither does any of you here, I suppose?⁠ ⁠…”

Marlow paused, as if expecting an answer. Nobody spoke.

“Quite right,” he began again. “Let no soul know, since the truth can be wrung out of us only by some cruel, little, awful catastrophe. But he is one of us, and he could say he was satisfied⁠ ⁠… nearly. Just fancy this! Nearly satisfied. One could almost envy him his catastrophe. Nearly satisfied. After this nothing could matter. It did not matter who suspected him, who trusted him, who loved him, who hated him⁠—especially as it was Cornelius who hated him.

“Yet after all this was a kind of recognition. You shall judge of a man by his foes as well as by his friends, and this enemy of Jim was such as no decent man would be ashamed to own, without, however, making too much of him. This was the view Jim took, and in which I shared; but Jim disregarded him on general grounds. ‘My dear Marlow,’ he said, ‘I feel that if I go straight nothing can touch me. Indeed I do. Now you have been long enough here to have a good look round⁠—and, frankly, don’t you think I am pretty safe? It all depends upon me, and, by Jove! I have lots of confidence in myself. The worst thing he could do would be to kill me, I suppose. I don’t think for a moment he would. He couldn’t, you know⁠—not if I were myself to hand him a loaded rifle for the purpose, and then turn my back on him. That’s the sort of thing he is. And suppose he would⁠—suppose he could? Well⁠—what of that? I didn’t come here flying for my life⁠—did I? I came here to set my back against the wall, and I am going to stay here⁠ ⁠…’

“ ‘Till you are quite satisfied,’ I struck in.

“We were sitting at the time under the roof in the stern of his boat; twenty paddles flashed like one, ten on a side, striking the water with a single splash, while behind our backs Tamb’ Itam dipped silently right and left, and stared right down the river, attentive to keep the long canoe in the greatest strength of the current. Jim bowed his head, and our last talk seemed to flicker out for good. He was seeing me off as far as the mouth of the river. The schooner had left the day before, working down and drifting on the ebb, while I had prolonged my stay overnight. And now he was seeing me off.

“Jim had been a little angry with me for mentioning Cornelius at all. I had not, in truth, said much. The man was too insignificant to be dangerous, though he was as full of hate as he could hold. He had called me ‘honourable sir’ at every second sentence, and had whined at my elbow as he followed me from the grave of his ‘late wife’ to the gate of Jim’s compound. He declared himself the most unhappy of men, a victim, crushed like a worm; he entreated me to look at him. I wouldn’t turn my head to do so; but I could see out of the corner of my eye his obsequious shadow gliding after mine, while the moon, suspended on our right hand, seemed to gloat serenely upon the spectacle. He tried to explain⁠—as I’ve told you⁠—his share in the events of the memorable night. It was a matter of expediency. How could he know who was going to get the upper hand? ‘I would have saved him, honourable sir! I would have saved him for eighty dollars,’ he protested in dulcet tones, keeping a pace behind me. ‘He has saved himself,’ I said, ‘and he has forgiven you.’ I heard a sort of tittering, and turned upon him; at once he appeared ready to take to his heels. ‘What are you laughing at?’ I asked, standing still. ‘Don’t be deceived, honourable sir!’ he shrieked, seemingly losing all control over his feelings. ‘He save himself! He knows nothing, honourable sir⁠—nothing whatever. Who is he? What does he want here⁠—the big thief? What does he want here? He throws dust into everybody’s eyes; he throws dust into your eyes, honourable sir; but he can’t throw dust into my eyes. He is a big fool, honourable sir.’ I laughed contemptuously, and, turning on my heel, began to walk on again. He ran up to my elbow and whispered forcibly, ‘He’s no more than a little child here⁠—like a little child⁠—a little child.’ Of course I didn’t take the slightest notice, and seeing the time pressed, because we were approaching the bamboo fence that glittered over the blackened ground of the clearing, he came to the point. He commenced by being abjectly lachrymose. His great misfortunes had affected his head. He hoped I would kindly forget what nothing but his troubles made him say. He didn’t mean anything by it; only the honourable sir did not know what it was to be ruined, broken down, trampled upon. After this introduction he approached the matter near his heart, but in such a rambling, ejaculatory, craven fashion, that for a long time I couldn’t make out what he was driving at. He wanted me to intercede with Jim in his favour. It seemed, too, to be some sort of money affair. I