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Tales of Unrest-Part13_JOSEPH CONRAD (1857-1924)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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nodded, "Yes, it is a consolation to think of that." They seemed to



forget their dead predecessor; but, early one day, Carlier went out

and replanted the cross firmly. "It used to make me squint whenever I



walked that way," he explained to Kayerts over the morning coffee. "It

made me squint, leaning over so much. So I just planted it upright.



And solid, I promise you! I suspended myself with both hands to the

cross-piece. Not a move. Oh, I did that properly."



At times Gobila came to see them. Gobila was the chief of the

neighbouring villages. He was a gray-headed savage, thin and black,



with a white cloth round his loins and a mangy panther skin hanging

over his back. He came up with long strides of his skeleton legs,



swinging a staff as tall as himself, and, entering the common room of

the station, would squat on his heels to the left of the door. There



he sat, watching Kayerts, and now and then making a speech which the

other did not understand. Kayerts, without interrupting his



occupation, would from time to time say in a friendly manner: "How

goes it, you old image?" and they would smile at one another. The two



whites had a liking for that old and incomprehensible creature, and

called him Father Gobila. Gobila's manner was paternal, and he seemed



really to love all white men. They all appeared to him very young,

indistinguishably alike (except for stature), and he knew that they



were all brothers, and also immortal. The death of the artist, who was

the first white man whom he knew intimately, did not disturb this



belief, because he was firmly convinced that the white stranger had

pretended to die and got himself buried for some mysterious purpose of



his own, into which it was useless to inquire. Perhaps it was his way

of going home to his own country? At any rate, these were his



brothers, and he transferred his absurdaffection to them. They

returned it in a way. Carlier slapped him on the back, and recklessly



struck off matches for his amusement. Kayerts was always ready to let

him have a sniff at the ammonia bottle. In short, they behaved just



like that other white creature that had hidden itself in a hole in the

ground. Gobila considered them attentively. Perhaps they were the same



being with the other--or one of them was. He couldn't decide--clear up

that mystery; but he remained always very friendly. In consequence



of that friendship the women of Gobila's village walked in single file

through the reedy grass, bringing every morning to the station,



fowls, and sweet potatoes, and palm wine, and sometimes a goat. The

Company never provisions the stations fully, and the agents required



those local supplies to live. They had them through the good-will of

Gobila, and lived well. Now and then one of them had a bout of fever,



and the other nursed him with gentle devotion. They did not think much

of it. It left them weaker, and their appearance changed for the



worse. Carlier was hollow-eyed and irritable. Kayerts showed a drawn,

flabby face above the rotundity of his stomach, which gave him a weird



aspect. But being constantly together, they did not notice the change

that took place gradually in their appearance, and also in their



dispositions.

Five months passed in that way.



Then, one morning, as Kayerts and Carlier, lounging in their chairs

under the verandah, talked about the approaching visit of the



steamer, a knot of armed men came out of the forest and advanced

towards the station. They were strangers to that part of the



country. They were tall, slight, draped classically from neck to heel

in blue fringed cloths, and carried percussion muskets over their



bare right shoulders. Makola showed signs of excitement, and ran out

of the storehouse (where he spent all his days) to meet these



visitors. They came into the courtyard and looked about them with

steady, scornful glances. Their leader, a powerful and



determined-looking negro with bloodshot eyes, stood in front of the

verandah and made a long speech. He gesticulated much, and ceased very



suddenly.

There was something in his intonation, in the sounds of the long



sentences he used, that startled the two whites. It was like a

reminiscence of something not exactly familiar, and yet resembling the



speech of civilized men. It sounded like one of those impossible

languages which sometimes we hear in our dreams.



"What lingo is that?" said the amazed Carlier. "In the first moment I

fancied the fellow was going to speak French. Anyway, it is a



different kind of gibberish to what we ever heard."

"Yes," replied Kayerts. "Hey, Makola, what does he say? Where do they



come from? Who are they?"

But Makola, who seemed to be standing on hot bricks, answered






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