word; but Father Corbelan is far away,
safe with the band of Hernandez, and the populace, that would have liked
to tear him to pieces, are much incensed against the priests. Not
a single fat padre would have consented to put his head out of his
hiding-place to-night to save a Christian soul, except, perhaps, under
my protection. That was in her mind. I pretended I did not believe she
was going to die. Senor, I refused to fetch a priest for a dying
woman. . . ."

Decoud was heard to stir.

"You did, Capataz!" he exclaimed. His tone changed. "Well, you know--it
was rather fine."

"You do not believe in priests, Don Martin? Neither do I. What was the
use of wasting time? But she--she believes in them. The thing sticks in
my throat. She may be dead already, and here we are floating helpless
with no wind at all. Curse on all superstition. She died thinking I
deprived her of Paradise, I suppose. It shall be the most desperate
affair of my life."

Decoud remained lost in reflection. He tried to analyze the sensations
awaked by what he had been told. The voice of the Capataz was heard
again:

"Now, Don Martin, let us take up the sweeps and try to find the Isabels.
It is either that or sinking the lighter if the day overtakes us. We
must not forget that the steamer from Esmeralda with the soldiers may be
coming along. We will pull straight on now. I have discovered a bit of a
candle here, and we must take the risk of a small light to make a course
by the boat compass. There is not enough wind to blow it out--may the
curse of Heaven fall upon this blind gulf!"

A small flame appeared burning quite straight. It showed fragmentarily
the stout ribs and planking in the hollow, empty part of the lighter.
Decoud could see Nostromo standing up to pull. He saw him as high as the
red sash on his waist, with a gleam of a white-handled revolver and the
wooden haft of a long knife protruding on his left side. 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