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- Джозеф Конрад
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- Сердце тьмы
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- Стр. 1/33
heart of Darkness
The
Nellie
,
a
cruising
yawl
,
swung
to
her
anchor
without
a
flutter
of
the
sails
,
and
was
at
rest
.
The
flood
had
made
,
the
wind
was
nearly
calm
,
and
being
bound
down
the
river
,
the
only
thing
for
it
was
to
come
to
and
wait
for
the
turn
of
the
tide
.
The
sea-reach
of
the
Thames
stretched
before
us
like
the
beginning
of
an
interminable
waterway
.
In
the
offing
the
sea
and
the
sky
were
welded
together
without
a
joint
,
and
in
the
luminous
space
the
tanned
sails
of
the
barges
drifting
up
with
the
tide
seemed
to
stand
still
in
red
clusters
of
canvas
sharply
peaked
,
with
gleams
of
varnished
sprits
.
A
haze
rested
on
the
low
shores
that
ran
out
to
sea
in
vanishing
flatness
.
The
air
was
dark
above
Gravesend
,
and
farther
back
still
seemed
condensed
into
a
mournful
gloom
,
brooding
motionless
over
the
biggest
,
and
the
greatest
,
town
on
earth
.
The
Director
of
Companies
was
our
captain
and
our
host
.
We
four
affectionately
watched
his
back
as
he
stood
in
the
bows
looking
to
seaward
.
On
the
whole
river
there
was
nothing
that
looked
half
so
nautical
.
He
resembled
a
pilot
,
which
to
a
seaman
is
trustworthiness
personified
.
It
was
difficult
to
realize
his
work
was
not
out
there
in
the
luminous
estuary
,
but
behind
him
,
within
the
brooding
gloom
.
Between
us
there
was
,
as
I
have
already
said
somewhere
,
the
bond
of
the
sea
.
Besides
holding
our
hearts
together
through
long
periods
of
separation
,
it
had
the
effect
of
making
us
tolerant
of
each
other
's
yarns
--
and
even
convictions
.
The
Lawyer
--
the
best
of
old
fellows
--
had
,
because
of
his
many
years
and
many
virtues
,
the
only
cushion
on
deck
,
and
was
lying
on
the
only
rug
.
The
Accountant
had
brought
out
already
a
box
of
dominoes
,
and
was
toying
architecturally
with
the
bones
.
Marlow
sat
cross-legged
right
aft
,
leaning
against
the
mizzen-mast
.
He
had
sunken
cheeks
,
a
yellow
complexion
,
a
straight
back
,
an
ascetic
aspect
,
and
,
with
his
arms
dropped
,
the
palms
of
hands
outwards
,
resembled
an
idol
.
The
director
,
satisfied
the
anchor
had
good
hold
,
made
his
way
aft
and
sat
down
amongst
us
.
We
exchanged
a
few
words
lazily
.
Afterwards
there
was
silence
on
board
the
yacht
.
For
some
reason
or
other
we
did
not
begin
that
game
of
dominoes
.
We
felt
meditative
,
and
fit
for
nothing
but
placid
staring
.
The
day
was
ending
in
a
serenity
of
still
and
exquisite
brilliance
.
The
water
shone
pacifically
;
the
sky
,
without
a
speck
,
was
a
benign
immensity
of
unstained
light
;
the
very
mist
on
the
Essex
marsh
was
like
a
gauzy
and
radiant
fabric
,
hung
from
the
wooded
rises
inland
,
and
draping
the
low
shores
in
diaphanous
folds
.
Only
the
gloom
to
the
west
,
brooding
over
the
upper
reaches
,
became
more
sombre
every
minute
,
as
if
angered
by
the
approach
of
the
sun
.
And
at
last
,
in
its
curved
and
imperceptible
fall
,
the
sun
sank
low
,
and
from
glowing
white
changed
to
a
dull
red
without
rays
and
without
heat
,
as
if
about
to
go
out
suddenly
,
stricken
to
death
by
the
touch
of
that
gloom
brooding
over
a
crowd
of
men
.
Forthwith
a
change
came
over
the
waters
,
and
the
serenity
became
less
brilliant
but
more
profound
.
The
old
river
in
its
broad
reach
rested
unruffled
at
the
decline
of
day
,
after
ages
of
good
service
done
to
the
race
that
peopled
its
banks
,
spread
out
in
the
tranquil
dignity
of
a
waterway
leading
to
the
uttermost
ends
of
the
earth
.
We
looked
at
the
venerable
stream
not
in
the
vivid
flush
of
a
short
day
that
comes
and
departs
for
ever
,
but
in
the
august
light
of
abiding
memories
.
And
indeed
nothing
is
easier
for
a
man
who
has
,
as
the
phrase
goes
,
"
followed
the
sea
"
with
reverence
and
affection
,
that
to
evoke
the
great
spirit
of
the
past
upon
the
lower
reaches
of
the
Thames
.
The
tidal
current
runs
to
and
fro
in
its
unceasing
service
,
crowded
with
memories
of
men
and
ships
it
had
borne
to
the
rest
of
home
or
to
the
battles
of
the
sea
.
It
had
known
and
served
all
the
men
of
whom
the
nation
is
proud
,
from
Sir
Francis
Drake
to
Sir
John
Franklin
,
knights
all
,
titled
and
untitled
--
the
great
knights-errant
of
the
sea
.
It
had
borne
all
the
ships
whose
names
are
like
jewels
flashing
in
the
night
of
time
,
from
the
GOLDEN
HIND
returning
with
her
rotund
flanks
full
of
treasure
,
to
be
visited
by
the
Queen
's
Highness
and
thus
pass
out
of
the
gigantic
tale
,
to
the
EREBUS
and
TERROR
,
bound
on
other
conquests
--
and
that
never
returned
.
It
had
known
the
ships
and
the
men
.
They
had
sailed
from
Deptford
,
from
Greenwich
,
from
Erith
--
the
adventurers
and
the
settlers
;
kings
'
ships
and
the
ships
of
men
on
'
Change
;
captains
,
admirals
,
the
dark
"
interlopers
"
of
the
Eastern
trade
,
and
the
commissioned
"
generals
"
of
East
India
fleets
.
Hunters
for
gold
or
pursuers
of
fame
,
they
all
had
gone
out
on
that
stream
,
bearing
the
sword
,
and
often
the
torch
,
messengers
of
the
might
within
the
land
,
bearers
of
a
spark
from
the
sacred
fire
.
What
greatness
had
not
floated
on
the
ebb
of
that
river
into
the
mystery
of
an
unknown
earth
!
...
The
dreams
of
men
,
the
seed
of
commonwealths
,
the
germs
of
empires
.
The
sun
set
;
the
dusk
fell
on
the
stream
,
and
lights
began
to
appear
along
the
shore
.
The
Chapman
light-house
,
a
three-legged
thing
erect
on
a
mud-flat
,
shone
strongly
.
Lights
of
ships
moved
in
the
fairway
--
a
great
stir
of
lights
going
up
and
going
down
.
And
farther
west
on
the
upper
reaches
the
place
of
the
monstrous
town
was
still
marked
ominously
on
the
sky
,
a
brooding
gloom
in
sunshine
,
a
lurid
glare
under
the
stars
.
