within the tides-第1部分

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Within　the　Tides







by　Joseph　Conrad

















Contents：







The　Planter　of　Malata



The　Partner



The　Inn　of　the　Two　Witches



Because　of　the　Dollars



















THE　PLANTER　OF　MALATA



















CHAPTER　I















In　the　private　editorial　office　of　the　principal　newspaper　in　a



great　colonial　city　two　men　were　talking。　　They　were　both　young。



The　stouter　of　the　two；　fair；　and　with　more　of　an　urban　look　about



him；　was　the　editor　and　part…owner　of　the　important　newspaper。







The　other's　name　was　Renouard。　　That　he　was　exercised　in　his　mind



about　something　was　evident　on　his　fine　bronzed　face。　　He　was　a



lean；　lounging；　active　man。　　The　journalist　continued　the



conversation。







〃And　so　you　were　dining　yesterday　at　old　Dunster's。〃







He　used　the　word　old　not　in　the　endearing　sense　in　which　it　is



sometimes　applied　to　intimates；　but　as　a　matter　of　sober　fact。　　The



Dunster　in　question　was　old。　　He　had　been　an　eminent　colonial



statesman；　but　had　now　retired　from　active　politics　after　a　tour　in



Europe　and　a　lengthy　stay　in　England；　during　which　he　had　had　a



very　good　press　indeed。　　The　colony　was　proud　of　him。







〃Yes。　　I　dined　there；〃　said　Renouard。　　〃Young　Dunster　asked　me　just



as　I　was　going　out　of　his　office。　　It　seemed　to　be　like　a　sudden



thought。　　And　yet　I　can't　help　suspecting　some　purpose　behind　it。



He　was　very　pressing。　　He　swore　that　his　uncle　would　be　very



pleased　to　see　me。　　Said　his　uncle　had　mentioned　lately　that　the



granting　to　me　of　the　Malata　concession　was　the　last　act　of　his



official　life。〃







〃Very　touching。　　The　old　boy　sentimentalises　over　the　past　now　and



then。〃







〃I　really　don't　know　why　I　accepted；〃　continued　the　other。



〃Sentiment　does　not　move　me　very　easily。　　Old　Dunster　was　civil　to



me　of　course；　but　he　did　not　even　inquire　how　I　was　getting　on　with



my　silk　plants。　　Forgot　there　was　such　a　thing　probably。　　I　must



say　there　were　more　people　there　than　I　expected　to　meet。　　Quite　a



big　party。〃







〃I　was　asked；〃　remarked　the　newspaper　man。　　〃Only　I　couldn't　go。



But　when　did　you　arrive　from　Malata？〃







〃I　arrived　yesterday　at　daylight。　　I　am　anchored　out　there　in　the



bay　…　off　Garden　Point。　　I　was　in　Dunster's　office　before　he　had



finished　reading　his　letters。　　Have　you　ever　seen　young　Dunster



reading　his　letters？　　I　had　a　glimpse　of　him　through　the　open　door。



He　holds　the　paper　in　both　hands；　hunches　his　shoulders　up　to　his



ugly　ears；　and　brings　his　long　nose　and　his　thick　lips　on　to　it



like　a　sucking　apparatus。　　A　commercial　monster。〃







〃Here　we　don't　consider　him　a　monster；〃　said　the　newspaper　man



looking　at　his　visitor　thoughtfully。







〃Probably　not。　　You　are　used　to　see　his　face　and　to　see　other



faces。　　I　don't　know　how　it　is　that；　when　I　come　to　town；　the



appearance　of　the　people　in　the　street　strike　me　with　such　force。



They　seem　so　awfully　expressive。〃







〃And　not　charming。〃







〃Well　…　no。　　Not　as　a　rule。　　The　effect　is　forcible　without　being



clear。　。　。　。　I　know　that　you　think　it's　because　of　my　solitary



manner　of　life　away　there。〃







〃Yes。　　I　do　think　so。　　It　is　demoralising。　　You　don't　see　any　one



for　months　at　a　stretch。　　You're　leading　an　unhealthy　life。〃







The　other　hardly　smiled　and　murmured　the　admission　that　true　enough



it　was　a　good　eleven　months　since　he　had　been　in　town　last。







〃You　see；〃　insisted　the　other。　　〃Solitude　works　like　a　sort　of



poison。　　And　then　you　perceive　suggestions　in　faces　…　mysterious



and　forcible；　that　no　sound　man　would　be　bothered　with。　　Of　course



you　do。〃







Geoffrey　Renouard　did　not　tell　his　journalist　friend　that　the



suggestions　of　his　own　face；　the　face　of　a　friend；　bothered　him　as



much　as　the　others。　　He　detected　a　degrading　quality　in　the　touches



of　age　which　every　day　adds　to　a　human　countenance。　　They　moved　and



disturbed　him；　like　the　signs　of　a　horrible　inward　travail　which



was　frightfully　apparent　to　the　fresh　eye　he　had　brought　from　his



isolation　in　Malata；　where　he　had　settled　after　five　strenuous



years　of　adventure　and　exploration。







〃It's　a　fact；〃　he　said；　〃that　when　I　am　at　home　in　Malata　I　see　no



one　consciously。　　I　take　the　plantation　boys　for　granted。〃







〃Well；　and　we　here　take　the　people　in　the　streets　for　granted。　　And



that's　sanity。〃







The　visitor　said　nothing　to　this　for　fear　of　engaging　a　discussion。



What　he　had　come　to　seek　in　the　editorial　office　was　not



controversy；　but　information。　　Yet　somehow　he　hesitated　to　approach



the　subject。　　Solitary　life　makes　a　man　reticent　in　respect　of



anything　in　the　nature　of　gossip；　which　those　to　whom　chatting



about　their　kind　is　an　everyday　exercise　regard　as　the　commonest



use　of　speech。







〃You　very　busy？〃　he　asked。







The　Editor　making　red　marks　on　a　long　slip　of　printed　paper　threw



the　pencil　down。







〃No。　　I　am　done。　　Social　paragraphs。　　This　office　is　the　place



where　everything　is　known　about　everybody　…　including　even　a　great



deal　of　nobodies。　　Queer　fellows　drift　in　and　out　of　this　room。



Waifs　and　strays　from　home；　from　up…country；　from　the　Pacific。



And；　by　the　way；　last　time　you　were　here　you　picked　up　one　of　that



sort　for　your　assistant　…　didn't　you？〃







〃I　engaged　an　assistant　only　to　stop　your　preaching　about　the　evils



of　solitude；〃　said　Renouard　hastily；　and　the　pressman　laughed　at



the　half…resentful　tone。　　His　laugh　was　not　very　loud；　but　his



plump　person　shook　all　over。　　He　was　aware　that　his　younger



friend's　deference　to　his　advice　was　based　only　on　an　imperfect



belief　in　his　wisdom　…　or　his　sagacity。　　But　it　was　he　who　had



first　helped　Renouard　in　his　plans　of　exploration：　　the　five…years'



programme　of　scientific　adventure；　of　work；　of　danger　and



endurance；　carried　out　with　such　distinction　and　rewarded　modestly



with　the　lease　of　Malata　island　by　the　frugal　colonial　government。



And　this　reward；　too；　had　been　due　to　the　journalist's　advocacy



with　word　and　pen　…　for　he　was　an　influential　man　in　the　community。



Doubting　very　much　if　Renouard　really　liked　him；　he　was　himself



without　great　sympathy　for　a　certain　side　of　that　man　which　he



could　not　quite　make　out。　　He　only　felt　it　obscurely　to　be　his　real



personality　…　the　true　…　and；　perhaps；　the　absurd。　　As；　for



instance；　in　that　case　of　the　assistant。　　Renouard　had　given　way　to



the　arguments　of　his　friend　and　backer　…　the　argument　against　the



unwholesome　effect　of　solitude；　the　argument　for　the　safety　of



companionship　even　if　quarrelsome。　　Very　well。　　In　this　docility　he



was　sensible　and　even　likeable。　　But　what　did　he　do　next？　　Instead



of　taking　counsel　as　to　the　choice　with　his　old　backer　and　friend；



and　a　man；　besides；　knowing　everybody　employed　and　unemployed　on



the　pavements　of　the　town；　this　extraordinary　Renouard　suddenly　and



almost　surreptitiously　picked　up　a　fellow　…　God　knows　who　…　and



sailed　away　with　him　back　to　Malata　in　a　hurry；　a　proceeding



obviously　rash　and　at　the　same　time　not　quite　straight。　　That　was



the　sort　of　thing。　　The　secretly　unforgiving　journalist　laughed　a



little　longer　and　then　ceased　to　shake　all　over。







〃Oh；　yes。　　About　that　assistant　of　yours。　。　。　。〃







〃What　about　him；〃　said　Renouard；　after　waiting　a　while；　with　a



shadow　of　uneasiness　on　his　face。







〃Have　you　nothing　to　tell　me　of　him？〃







〃Nothing　except。　。　。　。〃　　Incipient　grimness　vanished　out　of



Renouard's　aspect　and　his　voice；　while　he　hesitated　as　if



reflecting　seriously　before　he　changed　his　mind。　　〃No。　　Nothing



whatever。〃







〃You　haven't　brought　him　along　with　you　by　chance　…　for　a　change。〃







The　Planter　of　Malata　stared；　then　shook　his　head；　and　finally



murmured　carelessly：　　〃I　think　he's　very　well　where　he　is。　　But　I



wish　you　could　tell　me　why　young　Dunster　insisted　so　much　on　my



dining　with　his　uncle　last　night。　　Everybody　knows　I　am　not　a



society　man。〃







The　Editor　exclaimed　at　so　much　modesty。　　Didn't　his　friend　know



that　he　was　their　one　and　only　explorer　…　that　he　was　the　man



experimenting　with　the　silk　plant。　。　。　。







〃Still；　that　doesn't　tell　me　why　I　was　invited　yesterday。　　For



young　Dunster　never　thought　of　this　civility　before。　。　。　。〃







〃Our　Willie；〃　said　the　popular　journalist；　〃never　does　anything



without　a　purpose；　that's　a　fact。〃







〃And　to　his　uncle's　house　too！〃







〃He　lives　there。〃







〃Yes。　　But　he　might　have　given　me　a　feed　somewhere　else。　　The



extraordinary　part　is　that　the　old　man　did　not　seem　to　have



anything　special　to　say。　　He　smiled　kindly　on　me　once　or　twice；　and



that　was　all。　　It　was　quite　a　party；　sixteen　people。〃







The　Editor　then；　after　expressing　his　regret　that　he　had　not　been



able　to　come；　wanted　to　know　if　the　party　had　been　entertaining。







Renouard　regretted　that　his　friend　had　not　been　there。　　Being　a　man



whose　business　or　at　least　whose　profession　was　to　know　everything



that　went　on　in　this　part　of　the　globe；　he　could　probably　have　told



him　something　of　some　people　lately　arrived　from　home；　who　were



amongst　the　guests。　　Young　Dunster　（Willie）；　with　his　large　shirt…



front　and　streaks　of　white　skin　shining　unpleasantly　through　the



thin　black　hair　plastered　over　the　top　of　his　head；　bore　down　on



him　and　introduced　him　to　that　party；　as　if　he　had　been　a　trained



dog　or　a　child　phenomenon。　　Decidedly；　he　said；　he　disliked　Willie



…　one　of　these　large　oppressive　men。　。　。　。







A　silence　fell；　and　it　was　as　if　Renouard　were　not　going　to　say



anything　more　when；　suddenly；　he　came　out　with　the　real　object　of



his　visit　to　the　editorial　room。







〃They　looked　to　me