I became fit to hear him
was that he had picked up the lighter's boat floating in the gulf!
He seemed quite overcome by the circumstance. And a remarkable enough
circumstance it was, when you remember that it was then sixteen days
since the sinking of the silver. At once I could see he was another man.
He stared at the wall, sir, as if there had been a spider or something
running about there. The loss of the silver preyed on his mind. The
first thing he asked me about was whether Dona Antonia had heard yet of
Decoud's death. His voice trembled. I had to tell him that Dona Antonia,
as a matter of fact, was not back in town yet. Poor girl! And just as I
was making ready to ask him a thousand questions, with a sudden, 'Pardon
me, senor,' he cleared out of the office altogether. I did not see him
again for three days. I was terribly busy, you know. It seems that he
wandered about in and out of the town, and on two nights turned up
to sleep in the baracoons of the railway people. He seemed absolutely
indifferent to what went on. I asked him on the wharf, 'When are you
going to take hold again, Nostromo? There will be plenty of work for the
Cargadores presently.'

"'Senor,' says he, looking at me in a slow, inquisitive manner, 'would
it surprise you to hear that I am too tired to work just yet? And what
work could I do now? How can I look my Cargadores in the face after
losing a lighter?'

"I begged him not to think any more about the silver, and he smiled. A
smile that went to my heart, sir. 'It was no mistake,' I told him. 'It
was a fatality. A thing that could not be helped.' 'Si, si!" he said,
and turned away. I thought it best to leave him alone for a bit to get
over it. Sir, it took him years really, to get over it. I was present
at his interview with Don Carlos. I must say that Gould is rather a cold
man. He had to keep a tight hand on his feelings, dealing with thieves
and rascals, in constant danger of ruin for himself and wife for so many
years, that it had become a second nature. They looked at each other for
a long time. Don Carlos asked what he could do for him, in his quiet,
reserved way.

"'My name is known from one end of Sulaco to the other,' he said, as
quiet as the other. 'What more can you do for me?' That was all that
passed on that occasion. Later, however, there was a very fine coasting
schooner for sale, and Mrs. Gould and I put our heads together to get
her bought and presented to him. It was done