ary life of a man.
It was impossible for him to do anything. He could only hold his
tongue, since there was no one to trust. The treasure would be lost,
probably--unless Decoud. . . . And his thought came abruptly to an end.
He perceived that he could not imagine in the least what Decoud was
likely to do.

Old Viola had not stirred. And the motionless Capataz dropped his
long, soft eyelashes, which gave to the upper part of his fierce,
black-whiskered face a touch of feminine ingenuousness. The silence had
lasted for a long time.

"God rest her soul!" he murmured, gloomily.

CHAPTER TEN

The next day was quiet in the morning, except for the faint sound of
firing to the northward, in the direction of Los Hatos. Captain Mitchell
had listened to it from his balcony anxiously. The phrase, "In
my delicate position as the only consular agent then in the port,
everything, sir, everything was a just cause for anxiety," had its place
in the more or less stereotyped relation of the "historical events"
which for the next few years was at the service of distinguished
strangers visiting Sulaco. The mention of the dignity and neutrality of
the flag, so difficult to preserve in his position, "right in the
thick of these events between the lawlessness of that piratical villain
Sotillo and the more regularly established but scarcely less atrocious
tyranny of his Excellency Don Pedro Montero," came next in order.
Captain Mitchell was not the man to enlarge upon mere dangers much. But
he insisted that it was a memorable day. On that day, towards dusk,
he had seen "that poor fellow of mine--Nostromo. The sailor whom I
discovered, and, I may say, made, sir. The man of the famous ride to
Cayta, sir. An historical event, sir!"

Regarded by the O. S. N. Company as an old and faithful servant, Captain
Mitchell was allowed to attain the term of his usefulness in ease and
dignity at the head of the enormously extended service. The augmentation
of the establishment, with its crowds of clerks, an office in town, the
old office in the harbour, the division into departments--passenger,
cargo, lighterage, and so on--secured a greater leisure for his last
years in the regenerated Sulaco, the capital of the Occidental Republic.
Liked by the natives for his good nature and the formality of his
manner, self-important and simple, known for years as a "friend of our
country," he felt himself a personality of mark in the town. Getting
up early for