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- Джозеф Конрад
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Captain
Fidanza
,
unpicturesque
,
but
always
a
little
mysterious
,
was
recognized
quite
sufficiently
under
the
lofty
glass
and
iron
roof
of
the
Sulaco
railway
station
.
He
took
a
local
train
,
and
got
out
in
Rincon
,
where
he
visited
the
widow
of
the
Cargador
who
had
died
of
his
wounds
(
at
the
dawn
of
the
New
Era
,
like
Don
Jose
Avellanos
)
in
the
patio
of
the
Casa
Gould
.
He
consented
to
sit
down
and
drink
a
glass
of
cool
lemonade
in
the
hut
,
while
the
woman
,
standing
up
,
poured
a
perfect
torrent
of
words
to
which
he
did
not
listen
.
He
left
some
money
with
her
,
as
usual
.
The
orphaned
children
,
growing
up
and
well
schooled
,
calling
him
uncle
,
clamoured
for
his
blessing
.
He
gave
that
,
too
;
and
in
the
doorway
paused
for
a
moment
to
look
at
the
flat
face
of
the
San
Tome
mountain
with
a
faint
frown
.
This
slight
contraction
of
his
bronzed
brow
casting
a
marked
tinge
of
severity
upon
his
usual
unbending
expression
,
was
observed
at
the
Lodge
which
he
attended
--
but
went
away
before
the
banquet
.
He
wore
it
at
the
meeting
of
some
good
comrades
,
Italians
and
Occidentals
,
assembled
in
his
honour
under
the
presidency
of
an
indigent
,
sickly
,
somewhat
hunchbacked
little
photographer
,
with
a
white
face
and
a
magnanimous
soul
dyed
crimson
by
a
bloodthirsty
hate
of
all
capitalists
,
oppressors
of
the
two
hemispheres
.
The
heroic
Giorgio
Viola
,
old
revolutionist
,
would
have
understood
nothing
of
his
opening
speech
;
and
Captain
Fidanza
,
lavishly
generous
as
usual
to
some
poor
comrades
,
made
no
speech
at
all
.
He
had
listened
,
frowning
,
with
his
mind
far
away
,
and
walked
off
unapproachable
,
silent
,
like
a
man
full
of
cares
.
His
frown
deepened
as
,
in
the
early
morning
,
he
watched
the
stone-masons
go
off
to
the
Great
Isabel
,
in
lighters
loaded
with
squared
blocks
of
stone
,
enough
to
add
another
course
to
the
squat
light-tower
.
That
was
the
rate
of
the
work
.
One
course
per
day
.
And
Captain
Fidanza
meditated
.
The
presence
of
strangers
on
the
island
would
cut
him
completely
off
the
treasure
.
It
had
been
difficult
and
dangerous
enough
before
.
He
was
afraid
,
and
he
was
angry
.
He
thought
with
the
resolution
of
a
master
and
the
cunning
of
a
cowed
slave
.
Then
he
went
ashore
.
He
was
a
man
of
resource
and
ingenuity
;
and
,
as
usual
,
the
expedient
he
found
at
a
critical
moment
was
effective
enough
to
alter
the
situation
radically
.
He
had
the
gift
of
evolving
safety
out
of
the
very
danger
,
this
incomparable
Nostromo
,
this
"
fellow
in
a
thousand
.
"
With
Giorgio
established
on
the
Great
Isabel
,
there
would
be
no
need
for
concealment
.
He
would
be
able
to
go
openly
,
in
daylight
,
to
see
his
daughters
--
one
of
his
daughters
--
and
stay
late
talking
to
the
old
Garibaldino
.
Then
in
the
dark
...
Night
after
night
...
He
would
dare
to
grow
rich
quicker
now
.
He
yearned
to
clasp
,
embrace
,
absorb
,
subjugate
in
unquestioned
possession
this
treasure
,
whose
tyranny
had
weighed
upon
his
mind
,
his
actions
,
his
very
sleep
.
He
went
to
see
his
friend
Captain
Mitchell
--
and
the
thing
was
done
as
Dr.
Monygham
had
related
to
Mrs.
Gould
.
When
the
project
was
mooted
to
the
Garibaldino
,
something
like
the
faint
reflection
,
the
dim
ghost
of
a
very
ancient
smile
,
stole
under
the
white
and
enormous
moustaches
of
the
old
hater
of
kings
and
ministers
.
His
daughters
were
the
object
of
his
anxious
care
.
The
younger
,
especially
.
Linda
,
with
her
mother
's
voice
,
had
taken
more
her
mother
's
place
.
Her
deep
,
vibrating
"
Eh
,
Padre
?
"
seemed
,
but
for
the
change
of
the
word
,
the
very
echo
of
the
impassioned
,
remonstrating
"
Eh
,
Giorgio
?
"
of
poor
Signora
Teresa
.
It
was
his
fixed
opinion
that
the
town
was
no
proper
place
for
his
girls
.
The
infatuated
but
guileless
Ramirez
was
the
object
of
his
profound
aversion
,
as
resuming
the
sins
of
the
country
whose
people
were
blind
,
vile
esclavos
.
On
his
return
from
his
next
voyage
,
Captain
Fidanza
found
the
Violas
settled
in
the
light-keeper
's
cottage
.
His
knowledge
of
Giorgio
's
idiosyncrasies
had
not
played
him
false
.
The
Garibaldino
had
refused
to
entertain
the
idea
of
any
companion
whatever
,
except
his
girls
.
And
Captain
Mitchell
,
anxious
to
please
his
poor
Nostromo
,
with
that
felicity
of
inspiration
which
only
true
affection
can
give
,
had
formally
appointed
Linda
Viola
as
under-keeper
of
the
Isabel
's
Light
.
"
The
light
is
private
property
,
"
he
used
to
explain
.
"
It
belongs
to
my
Company
.
I
've
the
power
to
nominate
whom
I
like
,
and
Viola
it
shall
be
.
It
's
about
the
only
thing
Nostromo
--
a
man
worth
his
weight
in
gold
,
mind
you
--
has
ever
asked
me
to
do
for
him
.
"
