Then all was still--as still as when you wake up in your bed in a dark
room from a bizarre and agitated dream. The lighter rocked slightly; the
rain was still falling. Two groping hands took hold of his bruised sides
from behind, and the Capataz's voice whispered, in his ear, "Silence,
for your life! Silence! The steamer has stopped."
Decoud listened. The gulf was dumb. He felt the water nearly up to his
knees. "Are we sinking?" he asked in a faint breath.
"I don't know," Nostromo breathed back to him. "Senor, make not the
slightest sound."
Hirsch, when ordered forward by Nostromo, had not returned into his
first hiding-place. He had fallen near the mast, and had no strength to
rise; moreover, he feared to move. He had given himself up for dead,
but not on any rational grounds. It was simply a cruel and terrifying
feeling. Whenever he tried to think what would become of him his teeth
would start chattering violently. He was too absorbed in the utter
misery of his fear to take notice of anything.
Though he was stifling under the lighter's sail which Nostromo had
unwittingly lowered on top of him, he did not even dare to put out his
head till the very moment of the steamer striking.
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