'I should not wonder if they were all of that way of thinking now,' the doctor said, grimly. 'I was never consulted. Decoud had it his own way. Their eyes are opened by this time, I should think. I for one know that if that silver turned up this moment miraculously ashore I would give it to Sotillo. And, as things stand, I would be approved.'
'Turned up miraculously,' repeated the Capataz very low; then raised his voice. 'That, senor, would be a greater miracle than any saint could perform.'
'I believe you, Capataz,' said the doctor, drily.
He went on to develop his view of Sotillo's dangerous influence upon the situation. And the Capataz, listening as if in a dream, felt himself of as little account as the indistinct, motionless shape of the dead man whom he saw upright under the beam, with his air of listening also, disregarded, forgotten, like a terrible example of neglect.
'Was it for an unconsidered and foolish whim that they came to me, then?' he interrupted suddenly. 'Had I not done enough for them to be of some account, por Dios? Is it that the hombres finos—the gentlemen—need not think as long as there is a man of the people ready to risk his body and soul? Or, perhaps, we have no souls—like dogs?'
'There was Decoud, too, with his plan,' the doctor reminded him again.
'Si! And the rich man in San Francisco who had something to do with that treasure, too—what do I know? No! I have heard too many things. It seems to me that everything is permitted to the rich.'
'I understand, Capataz,' the doctor began.
'What Capataz?' broke in Nostromo, in a forcible but even voice. 'The Capataz is undone, destroyed. There is no Capataz. Oh, no! You will find the Capataz no more.'
'Come, this is childish!' remonstrated the doctor; and the other calmed down suddenly.
'I have been indeed like a little child,' he muttered.
And as his eyes met again the shape of the murdered man suspended in his awful immobility, which seemed the uncomplaining immobility of attention, he asked, wondering gently—
'Why did Sotillo give the estrapade to this pitiful wretch? Do you know? No torture could have been worse than his fear. Killing I can understand. His anguish was intolerable to behold. But why should he torment him like this? He could tell no more.'
'No; he could tell nothing more. Any sane man would have seen that. He had told him everything. But I tell you what it is, Capataz. Sotillo would not believe what he was told. Not everything.'
'What is it he would not believe? I cannot understand.'
'I can, because I have seen the man. He refuses to believe that the treasure is lost.'
'What?' the Capataz cried out in a discomposed tone.
'That startles you—eh?'
'Am I to understand, senor,' Nostromo went on in a deliberate and, as it were, watchful tone, 'that Sotillo thinks the treasure has been saved by some means?'
'No! no! That would be impossible,' said the doctor, with conviction; and Nostromo emitted a grunt in the dark. 'That would be impossible. He thinks that the silver was no longer in the lighter when she was sunk. He has convinced himself that the whole show of getting it away to sea is a mere sham got up to deceive Gamacho and his Nationals, Pedrito Montero, Senor Fuentes, our new Gefe Politico, and himself, too. Only, he says, he is no such fool.'
'But he is devoid of sense. He is the greatest imbecile that ever called himself a colonel in this country of evil,' growled Nostromo.
'He is no more unreasonable than many sensible men,' said the doctor. 'He has convinced himself that the treasure can be found because he desires passionately to possess himself of it. And he is also afraid of his officers turning upon him and going over to Pedrito, whom he has not the courage either to fight or trust. Do you see that, Capataz? He need fear no desertion as long as some hope remains of that enormous plunder turning up. I have made it my business to keep this very hope up.'
'You have?' the Capataz de Cargadores repeated cautiously. 'Well, that is wonderful. And how long do you think you are going to keep it up?'
'As long as I can.'
'What does that mean?'
'I can tell you exactly. As long as I live,' the doctor retorted in a stubborn voice. Then, in a few words, he described the story of his arrest and the circumstances of his release. 'I was going back to that silly scoundrel when we met,' he concluded.
Nostromo had listened with profound attention. 'You have made up your mind, then, to a speedy death,' he muttered through his clenched teeth.
'Perhaps, my illustrious Capataz,' the doctor said, testily. 'You are not the only one here who can look an ugly death in the face.'
'No doubt,' mumbled Nostromo, loud enough to be overheard. 'There may be even more than two fools in this place. Who knows?'
'And that is my affair,' said the doctor, curtly.
'As taking out the accursed silver to sea was my affair,' retorted Nostromo. 'I see. Bueno! Each of us has his reasons. But you were the last man I conversed with before I started, and you talked to me as if I were a fool.'
Nostromo had a great distaste for the doctor's sardonic treatment of his great reputation. Decoud's faintly ironic recognition used to make him uneasy; but the familiarity of a man like Don Martin was flattering, whereas the doctor was a nobody. He could remember him a penniless outcast, slinking about the streets of Sulaco, without a single friend or acquaintance, till Don Carlos Gould took him into the service of the mine.
