the Custom
House store-rooms, and running the truck on to the wharf. There would
be arrests made, and certainly before noon Sotillo would know in what
manner the silver had left Sulaco, and who it was that took it out.

Nostromo's intention had been to sail right into the harbour; but at
this thought by a sudden touch of the tiller he threw the lighter into
the wind and checked her rapid way. His re-appearance with the very
boat would raise suspicions, would cause surmises, would absolutely
put Sotillo on the track. He himself would be arrested; and once in
the Calabozo there was no saying what they would do to him to make
him speak. He trusted himself, but he stood up to look round. Near by,
Hermosa showed low its white surface as flat as a table, with the slight
run of the sea raised by the breeze washing over its edges noisily. The
lighter must be sunk at once.

He allowed her to drift with her sail aback. There was already a good
deal of water in her. He allowed her to drift towards the harbour
entrance, and, letting the tiller swing about, squatted down and
busied himself in loosening the plug. With that out she would fill very
quickly, and every lighter carried a little iron ballast--enough to make
her go down when full of water. When he stood up again the noisy wash
about the Hermosa sounded far away, almost inaudible; and already he
could make out the shape of land about the harbour entrance. This was a
desperate affair, and he was a good swimmer. A mile was nothing to him,
and he knew of an easy place for landing just below the earthworks of
the old abandoned fort. It occurred to him with a peculiar fascination
that this fort was a good place in which to sleep the day through after
so many sleepless nights.

With one blow of the tiller he unshipped for the purpose, he knocked the
plug out, but did not take the trouble to lower the sail. He felt the
water welling up heavily about his legs before he leaped on to the
taffrail. There, upright and motionless, in his shirt and trousers only,
he stood waiting. When he had felt her settle he sprang far away with a
mighty splash.

At once he turned his head. The gloomy, clouded dawn from behind the
mountains showed him on the smooth waters the upper corner of the sail,
a dark wet triangle of canvas waving slightly to and fro. He saw it
vanish, as if jerked under, and then struck out for the shore.

PART THIRD THE LIGHTHOUSE

CHAPTER ONE

Directly the