Decoud nerved
himself for the effort of rowing. Certainly there was not enough wind to
blow the candle out, but its flame swayed a little to the slow movement
of the heavy boat. It was so big that with their utmost efforts
they could not move it quicker than about a mile an hour. This was
sufficient, however, to sweep them amongst the Isabels long before
daylight came. There was a good six hours of darkness before them, and
the distance from the harbour to the Great Isabel did not exceed two
miles. Decoud put this heavy toil to the account of the Capataz's
impatience. Sometimes they paused, and then strained their ears to hear
the boat from Esmeralda. In this perfect quietness a steamer moving
would have been heard from far off. As to seeing anything it was out of
the question. They could not see each other. Even the lighter's sail,
which remained set, was invisible. Very often they rested.
"Caramba!" said Nostromo, suddenly, during one of those intervals when
they lolled idly against the heavy handles of the sweeps. "What is it?
Are you distressed, Don Martin?"
Decoud assured him that he was not distressed in the least.
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