英语小说网

This brings me to the story of his love. Remember the unspeakably awful Cornelius? I saw him and spoke to him myself, as he crept around Patusan with evil in his heart, and lying promises on his lips. How his poor wife had come to marry him is a mystery to me. I do not know, either, what had happened to her daughter's father, who was not Cornelius. The fact remains that she already had her daughter when she married the Portuguese. Bitterly disappointed with his life, he seemed to hate the woman and her child, and behaved very badly to both of them. The two women lived very lonely lives at the trading-post, with no other friends or companions. When the older woman died, a short time before Jim's arrival, the daughter was lonelier than ever.

Jim decided to leave Doramin's place after only a few days there, and move into the house at the trading-post, where Cornelius and the girl lived. Although Doramin warned him this would be dangerous, Jim felt it was his duty to take care of Stein's business. At first Cornelius pretended to be delighted that Jim was staying with him, but he soon showed his real character. Jim realized that Cornelius had been stealing from Stein at every opportunity. There seemed to be almost nothing left of the business, and some of the papers were missing.

"Call me father, and with respect, too," he used to scream into her face. "Your mother was an evil woman, and you're evil as well!" The girl usually put her hands over her ears and ran away, while Cornelius chased her, shouting wildly and often throwing dirt at her. But sometimes she used to listen in silence, staring scornfully at him and replying with a poisonous word or two. Jim told me he could not leave the house while the poor girl was so unhappy; his conscience would not let him. But every day he received another message that there were plans to drown, shoot or poison him, and he realized he was in great danger. He no longer slept well at night. He noticed that Cornelius was acting very strangely, giving hesitating answers to Jim's questions, creeping secretly round the house in the dark, and having mysterious meetings with people at night.

"It was miserable there," Jim told me. "Cornelius was too mean to give me any regular meals. And then I heard the Rajah was planning to murder me! Pleasant, wasn't it?" He added that he didn't know what made him stay there for six weeks, but of course we can guess. He was very sorry for the motherless girl. It appears Cornelius frequently shouted at her, although he was too cowardly to hit her.

The girl led him away from the house towards the trading-post buildings. She turned and whispered to Jim, "They were going to attack you while you slept."

He answered politely, "Certainly -- whatever you want," and followed her outside. On the veranda he noticed that Cornelius's bed was empty.

One night, however, Jim was woken by the girl. She was holding a burning torch high above his head, and was whispering, "Get up! Get up!" He jumped to his feet and she put his gun into his hand. "Can you fight four men?" she asked.

Jim felt miserably disappointed. He did not want to hear any more about these attempts to kill him. He had only come outside with her because he thought she wanted his help. But they walked on together. It was a beautiful night, quite cool, with a soft wind blowing from the river. Remember, my friends, this is a love story I am telling you now.

The girl stopped outside one of the buildings and held her torch up high like a flag. "They're in there, waiting for the sign," she whispered. "But you have been sleeping so restlessly. I watch you every night."

"Run! Go to Doramin!" the girl said, excitedly. "For the moment you are safe -- they know you're awake, they know you're big, strong, fearless -- but what about tomorrow? Or any other night? How can I always be watching?"

Jim threw open the door and went in. From a dark corner a man ran towards him, holding a knife. Jim shot him in the head and killed him. Three more men came forward, holding out their empty hands to show they had no weapons. "Walk outside!" Jim ordered. At the door he was joined by the girl, still holding the torch. Her black hair fell to her waist, and her white dress touched the ground as she walked.

"You've been watching me?" Jim felt first surprised, then delighted. But at that moment a movement caught his eye, and he saw a dark figure move quickly past. "Cornelius!" he called in a strong voice. There was a deep silence.

He moved forward, and the girl, understanding his plan, ran round to the side of the building, and put her torch through the open window, so that he had enough light to see.

Jim was terribly touched by the feeling in her voice. He realized that the only escape from his loneliness was -- in her. If he went away from her, he told me, it would be the end of everything. So the only thing to do was to enter the building and find his murderers.

I met the girl, of course, on my visit. She had a child's sensitive face, and moved quickly and lightly, like a little bird. Her skin was smooth and her hair a deep blue-black, flowing thickly on to her lovely shoulders. She spoke and understood quite a lot of English, and used to listen carefully to our conversations, keeping her big clear eyes fastened on our lips. Her love for Jim surrounded him completely; I felt I could almost touch it. I suppose you think I, too, am romantic, but I'm just telling you what I saw. I realized she loved him deeply and jealously, but what she was jealous of, I did not know. After all, the land, the people, the forests were on her side, guarding Jim day and night and keeping him prisoner. Even Tamb'Itam, ready to die for the Tuan, was proud to guard Jim. And the girl herself, I believe, never went to sleep until Jim and I had separated for the night. More than once I saw her and Jim, through the window of my room, stand quietly together on the veranda -- two figures very close, his arm around her waist, her head on his shoulder.

The three men walked in front, followed by Jim and the girl, until they reached the river. "Jump!" shouted Jim, and the men jumped. Jim watched them swim into the distance. He turned to the girl. His heart seemed suddenly to grow too big for his chest, and he was unable to speak. They looked at each other for a long time, then she threw the burning torch far into the river. The calm soft starlight came down on them; it was one of those nights that seem made for love. I don't suppose he could express himself very well, but there are moments when our souls need silence more than words.

He called her Jewel. Pretty, isn't it? A strange name, of course, but it probably explained the surprising story I had heard on my way to Patusan, in a village about three hundred kilometres south of there. Local people told me that the mysterious white stranger who had taken control of the area had discovered a very large and valuable jewel. As he was often seen walking with a girl, behaving with great respect and care towards her, it was supposed that she wore the white man's jewel hidden in her dress. It was true that Jim took the girl on evening walks, and that romance had taken hold of him, but the rest of the story was just imagination. He did not hide his jewel; in fact, he was extremely proud of it.

"I -- I love her dearly," he told me. "You see, it's so wonderful when you feel you're needed by someone. And her life was so awful before! She trusts me to take care of her. And I will! You know, I've been here only two years now, and I really can t imagine living anywhere else. The thought of the world outside is enough to frighten me, because --" and he looked down at his boots "-- I haven't forgotten why I came here. Not yet!" We walked by the river in silence for a few moments. "Isn't it strange that all these people, who would do anything for me, will never understand? If you asked them who is brave, who is faithful, who they would trust with their lives… They would say, Tuan Jim. But they can never know the real, real truth." He paused again. "It doesn't matter. I am -- almost -- happy with what I've done. And they believe in me -- that's what they've done for me. I shall always remain here."

When he left me, I saw the girl's white figure coming towards me. She had clearly been waiting for this opportunity. She wanted something simple but impossible -- a promise, an explanation. Because she had grown up in Patusan and knew nothing of the strange world outside, her one great fear was that Jim, who had come from there, would one day return to it. She had watched us closely and listened to all our conversations, afraid perhaps that I was planning to take Jim away from her. And now she spoke to me, desperate to know what her fate would be. I was deeply touched by her helplessness; she was young, beautiful, and very unhappy.

"He promised he would never leave me," she whispered, holding her lovely head in her hands.

"Why don't you believe him?" I replied. "I certainly won't take him away."

"They always leave us," she said, even more quietly. "I don't want to suffer like my mother. She cried bitterly while she was dying. My father also promised never to leave, you know."

"Ah! but Jim isn't like that," I said. She was silent; it seemed strange to me. "What has he been telling you?"

I was deeply moved by her pain. I wanted very much to bring calm to her soul, and to say, "Have no fear!" But how do you kill fear? Can you shoot a ghost through the heart, can you cut off its head? I spoke with a heavy heart, with a kind of anger. "There is nothing in that unknown world outside, no face, no voice, no one alive or dead who can take Jim away from you."

"He told me that," she answered softly. "But why did you come? You make me afraid. Do you -- do you want him?"

"I don't know!" she cried miserably. "He says there's something he can never forget! What is it? Tell me! You both remember something! Is it alive? Is it dead? I hate it! Will it come for him? Will he see it in his sleep, perhaps, when he cannot see me, and then leave me? Will it be a sign -- a call?"

"I shall never come again," I said bitterly. "And I don't want him. No one wants him. This world you don't know is too big to miss him. And you've got his heart in your hand. You must feel that. You must know that."

"Yes, I know that," she whispered, hard and still, like a figure in stone.

"Why?" she asked quietly. I felt the ghost escaping, and, confused, did not answer. "Why?" she repeated. "Tell me!"

Suddenly I cried out angrily, "Because he is not good enough."

I stopped. There was a deep silence over Patusan.

I was getting excited. I felt I almost had a chance of killing the ghost at last. "In the whole world there is no one who will ever need his heart, his head, his hand! From all the millions of people out there, I can tell you that as long as he lives, there will never come a call or a sign for him! Never! Why are you afraid? You know he's strong, faithful and brave. He is more than that. He has greatness -- and the world doesn't want him, it has forgotten him!"

She turned away. How could I explain? He had told her and she had not believed him. Who knows if we both lied or not?

"That is what he said," she replied scornfully. "You lie!"

"Listen!" I cried. "Nobody, nobody is good enough…"

But none of that mattered. You see, I had decided that Jim, who was the only one I really cared about, had at last taken control of his fate. He had told me he was -- almost -- happy with what he'd done. Not many of us can say that. Can any of you here? No, I thought not. So it did not matter who trusted him, who loved him, who hated him.

"That man Cornelius hates you," I said, remembering a recent conversation with the Portuguese. "He thinks you've stolen everything from him. He could be dangerous."

"My dear Marlow, I feel that if I go straight, nothing can touch me. Everything depends on me, and my God! I know I can do it. Cornelius isn't worth worrying about."

The next morning Jim came with me on the first part of my journey out of Patusan. As our canoe moved fast down the river, the trading-post and the houses disappeared behind us.

"This is wonderful!" I cried, then looked at the unfortunate man beside me. He sat with his head bent low on his chest, and did not look up, perhaps afraid to see what his romantic conscience had written on the clear sky.

The air was hot and heavy, and smelt of mud. We were silent for a time, knowing we would separate soon. Suddenly the sky seemed to widen, there was a freshness in the air, and at last we were out of the jungle. Ahead of us was the open sea. I breathed deeply, I felt free again. The girl was right. There was a sign, a call from the wider world outside, for me!

I remember the smallest details of that afternoon. We landed on a white beach, near the mouth of the river, to wait for my ship. Two natives came to tell Jim that the Rajah's men were stealing their eggs. He told them gently to wait, and they sat down obediently on the ground.

"You see, I can't go away," he said to me. "The people here need me now. They would fight among themselves if I left. I must stay. I shall be faithful." I remembered Stein's words -- follow the dream, to the end. "And there's Jewel," he went on. "She's everything to me. When shall you and I meet again, I wonder?"

"Goodbye, then," he said after a pause. "Perhaps it's best this way." We shook hands, and I walked to the ship's boat, which by now was waiting for me in shallow water.

"In a year or so, if I am alive then," I said.

"Never -- unless you come out," I replied. He didn't seem very surprised. He was quiet for a while.

"Will you go home again soon?" asked Jim, just as I was getting in.

The boat started moving away from the beach. Jim, at the water's edge, spoke louder. "Tell them…" he began. I ordered the boatmen to stop rowing, and waited. Tell who? "No-nothing," he said, and waved us away. I did not look at the beach again until I had climbed on board the ship.

By that time the sun had gone down and the coast looked very black, but I could still see Jim on the beach. The two natives were standing close to him, no doubt telling the white lord about their miserable, difficult lives, and he was listening patiently. They soon disappeared in the growing darkness, but Jim remained, white from head to foot. He had the sea at his feet, and the opportunity by his side -- still hidden from him. What do you think, my friends? Was it still hidden? For me that white figure in the stillness of coast and sea seemed to stand at the heart of a great mystery, catching all the light left in a darkened world… And then, suddenly, I lost him…