-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Джозеф Конрад
-
- Ностромо
-
- Стр. 3/274
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
The
O.S.N.
'
s
superintendent
in
Sulaco
for
the
whole
Costaguana
section
of
the
service
was
very
proud
of
his
Company
's
standing
.
He
resumed
it
in
a
saying
which
was
very
often
on
his
lips
,
"
We
never
make
mistakes
.
"
To
the
Company
's
officers
it
took
the
form
of
a
severe
injunction
,
"
We
must
make
no
mistakes
.
I
'll
have
no
mistakes
here
,
no
matter
what
Smith
may
do
at
his
end
.
"
Smith
,
on
whom
he
had
never
set
eyes
in
his
life
,
was
the
other
superintendent
of
the
service
,
quartered
some
fifteen
hundred
miles
away
from
Sulaco
.
"
Do
n't
talk
to
me
of
your
Smith
.
"
Then
,
calming
down
suddenly
,
he
would
dismiss
the
subject
with
studied
negligence
.
"
Smith
knows
no
more
of
this
continent
than
a
baby
.
"
"
Our
excellent
Senor
Mitchell
"
for
the
business
and
official
world
of
Sulaco
;
"
Fussy
Joe
"
for
the
commanders
of
the
Company
's
ships
,
Captain
Joseph
Mitchell
prided
himself
on
his
profound
knowledge
of
men
and
things
in
the
country
--
cosas
de
Costaguana
.
Amongst
these
last
he
accounted
as
most
unfavourable
to
the
orderly
working
of
his
Company
the
frequent
changes
of
government
brought
about
by
revolutions
of
the
military
type
.
The
political
atmosphere
of
the
Republic
was
generally
stormy
in
these
days
.
The
fugitive
patriots
of
the
defeated
party
had
the
knack
of
turning
up
again
on
the
coast
with
half
a
steamer
's
load
of
small
arms
and
ammunition
.
Such
resourcefulness
Captain
Mitchell
considered
as
perfectly
wonderful
in
view
of
their
utter
destitution
at
the
time
of
flight
.
He
had
observed
that
"
they
never
seemed
to
have
enough
change
about
them
to
pay
for
their
passage
ticket
out
of
the
country
.
"
And
he
could
speak
with
knowledge
;
for
on
a
memorable
occasion
he
had
been
called
upon
to
save
the
life
of
a
dictator
,
together
with
the
lives
of
a
few
Sulaco
officials
--
the
political
chief
,
the
director
of
the
customs
,
and
the
head
of
police
--
belonging
to
an
overturned
government
.
Poor
Senor
Ribiera
(
such
was
the
dictator
's
name
)
had
come
pelting
eighty
miles
over
mountain
tracks
after
the
lost
battle
of
Socorro
,
in
the
hope
of
out-distancing
the
fatal
news
--
which
,
of
course
,
he
could
not
manage
to
do
on
a
lame
mule
.
The
animal
,
moreover
,
expired
under
him
at
the
end
of
the
Alameda
,
where
the
military
band
plays
sometimes
in
the
evenings
between
the
revolutions
.
"
Sir
,
"
Captain
Mitchell
would
pursue
with
portentous
gravity
,
"
the
ill-timed
end
of
that
mule
attracted
attention
to
the
unfortunate
rider
.
His
features
were
recognized
by
several
deserters
from
the
Dictatorial
army
amongst
the
rascally
mob
already
engaged
in
smashing
the
windows
of
the
Intendencia
.
"
Early
on
the
morning
of
that
day
the
local
authorities
of
Sulaco
had
fled
for
refuge
to
the
O.S.N.
Company
's
offices
,
a
strong
building
near
the
shore
end
of
the
jetty
,
leaving
the
town
to
the
mercies
of
a
revolutionary
rabble
;
and
as
the
Dictator
was
execrated
by
the
populace
on
account
of
the
severe
recruitment
law
his
necessities
had
compelled
him
to
enforce
during
the
struggle
,
he
stood
a
good
chance
of
being
torn
to
pieces
.
Providentially
,
Nostromo
--
invaluable
fellow
--
with
some
Italian
workmen
,
imported
to
work
upon
the
National
Central
Railway
,
was
at
hand
,
and
managed
to
snatch
him
away
--
for
the
time
at
least
.
Ultimately
,
Captain
Mitchell
succeeded
in
taking
everybody
off
in
his
own
gig
to
one
of
the
Company
's
steamers
--
it
was
the
Minerva
--
just
then
,
as
luck
would
have
it
,
entering
the
harbour
.
He
had
to
lower
these
gentlemen
at
the
end
of
a
rope
out
of
a
hole
in
the
wall
at
the
back
,
while
the
mob
which
,
pouring
out
of
the
town
,
had
spread
itself
all
along
the
shore
,
howled
and
foamed
at
the
foot
of
the
building
in
front
.
He
had
to
hurry
them
then
the
whole
length
of
the
jetty
;
it
had
been
a
desperate
dash
,
neck
or
nothing
--
and
again
it
was
Nostromo
,
a
fellow
in
a
thousand
,
who
,
at
the
head
,
this
time
,
of
the
Company
's
body
of
lightermen
,
held
the
jetty
against
the
rushes
of
the
rabble
,
thus
giving
the
fugitives
time
to
reach
the
gig
lying
ready
for
them
at
the
other
end
with
the
Company
's
flag
at
the
stern
.
Sticks
,
stones
,
shots
flew
;
knives
,
too
,
were
thrown
.
Captain
Mitchell
exhibited
willingly
the
long
cicatrice
of
a
cut
over
his
left
ear
and
temple
,
made
by
a
razor-blade
fastened
to
a
stick
--
a
weapon
,
he
explained
,
very
much
in
favour
with
the
"
worst
kind
of
nigger
out
here
.
"
