Nostromo : A Tale of the Seaboard
trate the darkness of the placid gulf. There remained only one thing he was certain of, and that was the overweening vanity of his companion. It was direct, uncomplicated, naive, and effectual. Decoud, who had been making use of him, had tried to understand his man thoroughly. He had discovered a complete singleness of motive behind the varied manifestations of a consistent character. This was why the man remained so astonishingly simple in the jealous greatness of his conceit. And now there was a complication. It was evident that he resented having been given a task in which there were so many chances of failure. "I wonder," thought Decoud, "how he would behave if I were not here."
He heard Nostromo mutter again, "No! There is no room for fear on this lighter. Courage itself does not seem good enough. I have a good eye and a steady hand; no man can say he ever saw me tired, or uncertain what to do; but, por Dios, Don Martin, I have been sent out into this black calm on a business where neither a good eye nor a steady hand nor judgment are any use. ..." He swore a string of oaths in Span- ish and Italian under his breath. "Nothing but sheer desperation will do for this affair."
These words were in strange contrast to the prevailing peace, to this almost solid stillness of the gulf. A shower fell with an abrupt, whispering sound all around the boat, and Decoud took off his hat, and, letting his head get wet, felt greatly refreshed. Presently a steady little draught of air caressed his cheek. The lighter began to move, but the shower distanced it. The drops ceased to fall upon his head and hands,
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