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. Then, indeed, he
leaped right out, spurred on to new miracles of bodily vigour by this
new shape of danger. The inrush of water when the lighter heeled over
unsealed his lips. His shriek, "Save me!" was the first distinct warning
of the collision for the people on board the steamer. Next moment the
wire shroud parted, and the released anchor swept over the lighter's
forecastle. It came against the breast of Senor Hirsch, who simply
seized hold of it, without in the least knowing what it was, but curling
his arms and legs upon the part above the fluke with an invincible,
unreasonable tenacity. The lighter yawed off wide, and the steamer,
moving on, carried him away, clinging hard, and shouting for help. It
was some time, however, after the steamer had stopped that his position
was discovered. His sustained yelping for help seemed to come from
somebody swimming in the water. At last a couple of men went over the
bows and hauled him on board. He was carried straight off to Sotillo on
the bridge. His examination confirmed the impression that some craft had
been run over and sunk, but it was impracticable on such a dark night
to look for the positive proof of floating wreckage. Sotillo was more
anxious than ever now to enter the harbour without loss of time; the
idea that he had destroyed the principal object of his expedition was
too intolerable to be accepted. This feeling made the story he had heard
appear the more incredible. Senor Hirsch, after being beaten a little
for telling lies, was thrust into the chartroom. But he was beaten only
a little. His tale had taken the heart out of Sotillo's Staff, though
they all repeated round their chief, "Impossible! impossible!" with the
exception of the old major, who triumphe