The last words he hissed into Decoud's ear. Decoud said nothing. He was
perfectly convinced. The usual characteristic quietness of the man was
gone. It was not equal to the situation as he conceived it. Something
deeper, something unsuspected by everyone, had come to the surface.
Decoud, with careful movements, slipped off his overcoat and divested
himself of his boots; he did not consider himself bound in honour to
sink with the treasure. His object was to get down to Barrios, in Cayta,
as the Capataz knew very well; and he, too, meant, in his own way,
to put into that attempt all the desperation of which he was capable.
Nostromo muttered, "True, true! You are a politician, senor. Rejoin the
army, and start another revolution." He pointed out, however, that there
was a little boat belonging to every lighter fit to carry two men, if
not more. Theirs was towing behind.
Of that Decoud had not been aware. Of course, it was too dark to see,
and it was only when Nostromo put his hand upon its painter fastened to
a cleat in the stern that he experienced a full measure of relief.
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