Lord Jim - Joseph Conrad (7 ebook reader TXT) 📗

of Queensland! The making of Queensland! And in Brisbane, where I went to have a last try, they gave me the name of a lunatic. Idiots! The only sensible man I came across was the cabman who drove me about. A broken-down swell he was, I fancy. Hey! Captain Robinson? You remember I told you about my cabby in Brisbane⁠—don’t you? The chap had a wonderful eye for things. He saw it all in a jiffy. It was a real pleasure to talk with him. One evening after a devil of a day amongst shipowners I felt so bad that, says I, “I must get drunk. Come along; I must get drunk, or I’ll go mad.” “I am your man,” he says; “go ahead.” I don’t know what I would have done without him. Hey! Captain Robinson.’

“He poked the ribs of his partner. ‘He! he! he!’ laughed the Ancient, looked aimlessly down the street, then peered at me doubtfully with sad, dim pupils.⁠ ⁠… ‘He! he! he!’⁠ ⁠… He leaned heavier on the umbrella, and dropped his gaze on the ground. I needn’t tell you I had tried to get away several times, but Chester had foiled every attempt by simply catching hold of my coat. ‘One minute. I’ve a notion.’ ‘What’s your infernal notion?’ I exploded at last. ‘If you think I am going in with you⁠ ⁠…’ ‘No, no, my boy. Too late, if you wanted ever so much. We’ve got a steamer.’ ‘You’ve got the ghost of a steamer,’ I said. ‘Good enough for a start⁠—there’s no superior nonsense about us. Is there, Captain Robinson?’ ‘No! no! no!’ croaked the old man without lifting his eyes, and the senile tremble of his head became almost fierce with determination. ‘I understand you know that young chap,’ said Chester, with a nod at the street from which Jim had disappeared long ago. ‘He’s been having grub with you in the Malabar last night⁠—so I was told.’

“I said that was true, and after remarking that he too liked to live well and in style, only that, for the present, he had to be saving of every penny⁠—‘none too many for the business! Isn’t that so, Captain Robinson?’⁠—he squared his shoulders and stroked his dumpy moustache, while the notorious Robinson, coughing at his side, clung more than ever to the handle of the umbrella, and seemed ready to subside passively into a heap of old bones. ‘You see, the old chap has all the money,’ whispered Chester confidentially. ‘I’ve been cleaned out trying to engineer the dratted thing. But wait a bit, wait a bit. The good time is coming.’⁠ ⁠… He seemed suddenly astonished at the signs of impatience I gave. ‘Oh, crakee!’ he cried; ‘I am telling you of the biggest thing that ever was, and you⁠ ⁠…’ ‘I have an appointment,’ I pleaded mildly. ‘What of that?’ he asked with genuine surprise; ‘let it wait.’ ‘That’s exactly what I am doing now,’ I remarked; ‘hadn’t you better tell me what it is you want?’ ‘Buy twenty hotels like that,’ he growled to himself; ‘and every joker boarding in them, too⁠—twenty times over.’ He lifted his head smartly. ‘I want that young chap.’ ‘I don’t understand,’ I said. ‘He’s no good, is he?’ said Chester crisply. ‘I know nothing about it,’ I protested. ‘Why, you told me yourself he was taking it to heart,’ argued Chester. ‘Well, in my opinion a chap who⁠ ⁠… Anyhow, he can’t be much good; but then you see I am on the lookout for somebody, and I’ve just got a thing that will suit him. I’ll give him a job on my island.’ He nodded significantly. ‘I’m going to dump forty coolies there⁠—if I’ve got to steal ’em. Somebody must work the stuff. Oh! I mean to act square: wooden shed, corrugated-iron roof⁠—I know a man in Hobart who will take my bill at six months for the materials. I do. Honour bright. Then there’s the water-supply. I’ll have to fly round and get somebody to trust me for half-a-dozen secondhand iron tanks. Catch rainwater, hey? Let him take charge. Make him supreme boss over the coolies. Good idea, isn’t it? What do you say?’ ‘There are whole years when not a drop of rain falls on Walpole,’ I said, too amazed to laugh. He bit his lip and seemed bothered. ‘Oh, well, I will fix up something for them⁠—or land a supply. Hang it all! That’s not the question.’

“I said nothing. I had a rapid vision of Jim perched on a shadowless rock, up to his knees in guano, with the screams of seabirds in his ears, the incandescent ball of the sun above his head; the empty sky and the empty ocean all a-quiver, simmering together in the heat as far as the eye could reach. ‘I wouldn’t advise my worst enemy⁠ ⁠…’ I began. ‘What’s the matter with you?’ cried Chester; ‘I mean to give him a good screw⁠—that is, as soon as the thing is set going, of course. It’s as easy as falling off a log. Simply nothing to do; two six-shooters in his belt.⁠ ⁠… Surely he wouldn’t be afraid of anything forty coolies could do⁠—with two six-shooters and he the only armed man too! It’s much better than it looks. I want you to help me to talk him over.’ ‘No!’ I shouted. Old Robinson lifted his bleared eyes dismally for a moment, Chester looked at me with infinite contempt. ‘So you wouldn’t advise him?’ he uttered slowly. ‘Certainly not,’ I answered, as indignant as though he had requested me to help murder somebody; ‘moreover, I am sure he wouldn’t. He is badly cut up, but he isn’t mad as far as I know.’ ‘He is no earthly good for anything,’ Chester mused aloud. ‘He would just have done for me. If you only could see a thing as it is, you would see it’s the very thing for him. And besides⁠ ⁠… Why! it’s the most splendid, sure chance⁠ ⁠…’ He got angry suddenly. ‘I