Сердце тьмы. Уровень 2 / Heart of Darkness. Джозеф Конрад

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was a little chap I liked maps. I could look for hours at South America, or Africa, or Australia, and lose myself in all the glories of exploration. At that time there were many blank spaces on the earth. When I saw one that looked particularly interesting on a map I liked to put my finger on it and say, ’When I grow up I will go there.’ The North Pole was one of these places, I remember. Well, I did not visit it. And I shall not try now. Other places were scattered about the hemispheres. I was in some of them, and… well, we won’t talk about that. But there was one yet – the biggest, the most blank.

      By this time it was not a blank space anymore. It is filled with rivers and lakes and names. It ceased to be a blank space of delightful mystery. It became a place of darkness. But there was in it one river especially, a mighty big river. You can see it on the map. It resembles an immense snake, with its head in the sea, its body over a vast country, and its tail in the depths of the land. And as I looked at the map of it in a shop-window, it fascinated me. I was a silly little bird. Then I remembered there was a big concern, a Company for trade on that river. Dash it all![8] I thought to myself, they can’t trade without steamboats! Why not try to get charge of one[9]? I went on along Fleet Street, but could not shake off the idea. The snake was charming me.

      You understand it was a Continental concern, that Trading society. I have a lot of relations on the Continent, because it’s cheap and not nasty, they say.

      I began to worry them. The men said ‘My dear fellow,’ and did nothing. Then – do you believe it? – I tried the women. I, Charlie Marlow! Heavens! Well, you see, the notion drove me. I had an aunt, a dear enthusiastic soul. She wrote: ‘It will be delightful. I am ready to do anything, anything for you. It is a glorious idea. I know the wife of a very high personage in the Administration, and also a man who has lots of influence with,’ etc. She decided to get me appointed skipper of a river steamboat.

      3

      I got my appointment – of course. I got it very quick. One of the captains was killed in a scuffle with the natives. This was my chance. It was only months and months afterwards, when I recovered his body. The original quarrel arose from a misunderstanding about some hens. Yes, two black hens. Fresleven – that was the fellow’s name, a Dane – thought himself wronged somehow in the bargain[10]. He went ashore and started to hammer the chief of the village with a stick. Oh, it didn’t surprise me to hear this, although Fresleven was the gentlest, quietest creature that ever walked on two legs. No doubt he was. But, you know, he probably wanted to assert his self-respect in some way. Therefore he whacked the old negro mercilessly. A big crowd of his people watched him, thunderstruck. And some man made jab with a spear at the white man. Of course it went quite easy between the shoulder-blades. Then the whole population cleared into the forest. They were expecting all kinds of calamities.

      On the other hand, the steamer left also in a bad panic, in charge of the engineer, I believe. Afterwards nobody troubled much about Fresleven’s remains, till I appeared. When I met my predecessor, the grass through his ribs was tall enough to hide his bones. They were all there. Nobody touched the supernatural creature after he fell. And the village was deserted, the huts were rotting. A calamity came to it. The people vanished. Mad terror scattered them, men, women, and children, through the bush, and they never returned. What became of the hens I don’t know either. However, through this glorious affair I got my appointment.

      I ran like mad. Before forty-eight hours I was crossing the Channel to show myself to my employers, and sign the contract. In a very few hours I arrived in a city that always makes me think of a sepulchre. Prejudice no doubt. I found the Company’s offices easily. It was the biggest thing in the town, and everybody I knew it. The Company wanted to grab the over-sea empire.

      4

      A narrow and deserted street in deep shadow, high houses, innumerable windows with venetian blinds, a dead silence, grass between the stones, carriage archways right and left, immense double doors. I slipped through one of these cracks, went up a swept and ungarnished staircase and opened the first door. Two women, one fat and the other slim, sat on straw-bottomed chairs. They were knitting black wool. The slim one got up and walked straight at me. She was still knitting with downcast eyes. Then she stood still, and looked up. Her dress was as plain as an umbrella-cover. She turned round without a word and preceded me into a waiting-room.

      I gave my name, and looked about. Deal table in the middle, plain chairs all round the walls, on one end a large shining map. There was a vast amount of red and blue, a little green, smears of orange, and, on the East Coast, a purple patch. However, I wasn’t going into any of these. I was going into the yellow. Dead in the centre. And the river was there – fascinating, deadly – like a snake.

      Ough! A door opened. A white-haired secretarial head appeared. A skinny forefinger beckoned me into the sanctuary. Its light was dim. A heavy writing-desk squatted in the middle. From behind that structure came out an impression of pale plumpness in a frock-coat. The great man himself. He was five feet six[11], I think. He shook hands, I fancy, murmured vaguely, was satisfied with my French. Bon voyage[12].

      5

      In about forty-five seconds I found myself again in the waiting-room with the compassionate secretary. He was full of desolation and sympathy. He gave me some document to sign. I believe I undertook amongst other things not to disclose any trade secrets. Well, I am not going to.

      I began to feel slightly uneasy. You know I am not used to such ceremonies. There was something ominous in the atmosphere. I don’t know – I felt that something was not quite right. I was glad to get out. In the outer room the two women knitted black wool feverishly. People were arriving. The younger woman was walking back and forth with them. The old woman sat on her chair. Her flat cloth slippers were propped up on a foot-warmer[13]. A cat reposed on her lap. She wore a starched white affair on her head. She had a wart on one cheek, and silver-rimmed spectacles on the tip of her nose. She glanced at me above the glasses. The swift and indifferent placidity of that look troubled me.

      Two youths with foolish and cheery countenances arrived. She threw at them the same quick glance of wisdom. She seemed to know all about them and about me, too. An eerie feeling came over me. She seemed uncanny and fateful. Often far away there I thought of these two women. They were guarding the door of Darkness. They were knitting black wool as for a warm pall. The first woman was introducing continuously to the unknown, the other woman was scrutinizing the cheery and foolish faces with unconcerned old eyes. Ave! Old knitter of black wool. Morituri te salutant[14]. Not many saw her again.

      There was yet a visit to the doctor. ‘A simple formality,’ assured me the secretary. Soon a young chap with his hat over the left eyebrow – some clerk I suppose – came from somewhere upstairs, and led me forth. He was shabby and careless. He had inkstains on the sleeves of his jacket. His cravat was large and billowy. Under a chin it shaped like the toe of an old boot. It was a little too early for the doctor, so I proposed a drink.

      As we sat over our vermouths he glorified the Company’s business. By and by[15] I expressed casually my surprise,

      “Aren’t you going there?” I asked.

      He became very cool and collected all at once.

      “I am not such a fool as I look, said Plato to his disciples,” he said sententiously.

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