Maximum-assistance view: every word above everyday vocabulary is explained at every appearance; each name is introduced at its first appearance in the chapter.

I

The Nellie (the name painted on this small sailing boat), a cruising yawl (a small sailing boat with two masts, built for pleasure trips), swung to her anchor (turned slowly around the rope that held it to the river bed) without a flutter (a quick light shaking) of the sails (the big sheets of cloth that catch the wind and push a boat along), and was at rest. The flood had made (the rising water had come all the way in), the wind was nearly calm, and being bound down the river (heading downstream, towards open water), the only thing for it (the only choice left) was to come to (bring the boat to a stop and hold it there) and wait for the turn of the tide (the moment the water stops running one way and starts the other).

The sea-reach (the last long straight part of the river before it opens out) of the Thames (the river that runs through London and out to open water) stretched before us like the beginning of an interminable (with no end you can see) waterway (a river or channel that boats travel along). In the offing (out on the open water, still within sight) the sea and the sky were welded together without a joint (joined so completely that no line showed between them), and in the luminous (full of light) space the tanned sails (cloth soaked in a brown dye so it would not rot) of the barges (flat boats that carry goods along a river) drifting (carried along slowly by the moving water) up with the tide seemed to stand still (without moving) in red clusters (tight groups close together) of canvas (the heavy cloth a ship spreads to catch the wind) sharply peaked (coming up to a point at the top), with gleams (short flashes of light) of varnished sprits (poles that hold the cloth out, coated to make them shine). A haze (thin mist hanging in the air) rested on the low shores that ran out to sea in vanishing flatness (the flat land stretched towards open water until you could no longer see where it ended). The air was dark above Gravesend (a town on the river below London), and farther back still seemed condensed (pressed together into something thicker) into a mournful (full of sadness) gloom (half-darkness), brooding (hanging heavy and low, as if full of dark thoughts) motionless over the biggest, and the greatest, town on earth (he means London, the centre of an empire that then ruled a quarter of the world).

The Director of Companies (the man whose boat this is) was our captain and our host. We four affectionately (with warm liking) watched his back as he stood in the bows (the front end of the boat) looking to seaward (in the direction of open water). On the whole river there was nothing that looked half so (nearly as) nautical (belonging to ships and the sea). He resembled a pilot (a man whose job is steering ships through a river mouth, not a flyer), which to a seaman (a man whose working life is on ships) is trustworthiness personified (trust itself given a human shape). It was difficult to realize his work was not out there in the luminous (full of light) estuary (the wide mouth where a river runs into open water), but behind him, within the brooding (hanging heavy and low, as if full of dark thoughts) gloom (half-darkness).

Between us there was, as I have already said somewhere, the bond of the sea (the tie that holds together men who have all worked on ships). Besides holding our hearts together through long periods of separation, it had the effect of making us tolerant (willing to accept things they did not agree with) of each other’s yarns (long stories told for pleasure, not thread)—and even convictions (firm beliefs, not court sentences). The Lawyer (the oldest of the listeners)—the best of old fellows (a very good man)—had, because of his many years and many virtues (good qualities), the only (the single one there was) cushion on deck (the flat floor on top of a boat), and was lying on the only rug (a thick cloth to lie or sit on). The Accountant (another of the listeners) had brought out already a box of dominoes (a game played with small flat pieces marked with dots), and was toying architecturally with the bones (slowly building the little pieces up into stacks). Marlow (a seaman, and one of the five aboard the Nellie) sat cross-legged (sitting on the floor with each foot tucked under the other knee) right aft (at the back end of the boat), leaning against the mizzen-mast (the shorter of the two poles that hold the sails, standing nearer the back). He had sunken (fallen inwards, hollow) cheeks, a yellow complexion (the colour of the skin of the face), a straight back, an ascetic (looking like a man who denies himself food and comfort) aspect (the look on a face, not a part or a side of something), and, with his arms dropped, the palms of hands outwards, resembled an idol (a stone or wooden figure that people pray to). The director, satisfied the anchor had good hold (the metal weight was gripping the river bed firmly), made his way aft and sat down amongst (among) us. We exchanged a few words lazily (slowly and with no effort). Afterwards there was silence on board the yacht (a boat kept for pleasure, not for work). For some reason or other we did not begin that game of dominoes. We felt meditative (deep in quiet thought), and fit for nothing but (able to do nothing except) placid (calm and easy) staring. The day was ending in a serenity (complete calm) of still (with nothing moving in it) and exquisite (finely and delicately beautiful) brilliance (great brightness). The water shone (gave back a steady light) pacifically (peacefully); the sky, without a speck (a tiny spot), was a benign (gentle and kindly) immensity (something so large it has no edge) of unstained (with no mark on it anywhere) light; the very mist (a thin cloud lying low over the ground) on the Essex marsh (the wet low ground of Essex, the county north of the river) was like a gauzy (so thin that light passes through it) and radiant (giving off light) fabric (woven cloth), hung (held in the air above) from the wooded (covered with trees) rises (low hills) inland (away from the water, further into the land), and draping (hanging loosely over) the low shores in diaphanous (fine and see-through, like a veil) folds. Only the gloom (half-darkness) to the west, brooding (hanging heavy and low, as if full of dark thoughts) over the upper reaches (the parts of the river farthest from open water), became more sombre (dark and heavy-looking) every minute, as if angered by the approach of the sun.

And at last, in its curved (bending in a smooth line) and imperceptible (too slight or too slow to notice) fall, the sun sank low, and from glowing (shining with a steady warm light) white changed to a dull red without rays and without heat, as if about to go out (stop burning) suddenly, stricken (killed) to death by the touch of that gloom (half-darkness) brooding (hanging heavy and low, as if full of dark thoughts) over a crowd of men.

Forthwith (immediately) a change came over (happened to) the waters, and the serenity (complete calm) became less brilliant but more profound (deep). The old river in its broad reach (a long wide straight stretch of the river) rested unruffled (smooth, with nothing stirring it) at the decline of day (the hours when the light is going), after ages of good service done to the race that peopled its banks (the men and women who had lived along its sides for hundreds of years), spread out in the tranquil (calm and quiet) dignity (calm and serious worth) of a waterway (a river or channel that boats travel along) leading to the uttermost ends of the earth (the farthest places in the world). We looked at the venerable (old and deserving respect) stream not in the vivid (bright and strong) flush (a sudden spread of warm colour across the sky) of a short day that comes and departs for ever, but in the august (grand and commanding respect, not the month) light of abiding (lasting on and on) memories. And indeed nothing is easier for a man who has, as the phrase goes (as people say), “followed the sea (made his living working on ships)” with reverence (deep respect, close to worship) and affection, than to evoke (call up in the mind) the great spirit of the past upon the lower reaches (the parts of the river nearest open water) of the Thames. The tidal current (the flow of water the tide pushes back and forth) runs to and fro (one way and then back again) in its unceasing (never stopping) service, crowded with memories of men and ships it had borne (carried) to the rest of home (the quiet and safety of home, where 'rest' means sleep) 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 (an English sea captain of the 1500s who sailed round the world) to Sir John Franklin (an English explorer who went to find a way through the Arctic ice and never came back), knights all (every one of them a knight, a man honoured by his ruler for brave service), titled and untitled (some with 'Sir' before the name, some with no such word at all)—the great knights-errant (fighting men who wandered about looking for adventure) of the sea. It had borne (carried) all the ships whose names are like jewels flashing in the night of time (ships whose names are still famous long after the times they sailed in were forgotten), from the Golden Hind (the ship an English sea captain, Francis Drake, sailed all the way round the world in the 1500s) returning with her rotund flanks (the round swelling sides of the ship) full of treasure, to be visited by the Queen’s Highness (Queen Elizabeth the First, who came on board the ship herself) and thus pass out of the gigantic tale (and in this way leave the huge story of the river and never come into it again), to the Erebus and Terror (two ships an English explorer, John Franklin, took north into the Arctic ice), bound on other conquests (setting out to take more lands by force)—and that never returned. It had known the ships and the men. They had sailed (began their voyage) from Deptford (a place on the river where ships were built and set out from), from Greenwich (a place on the river below London where ships set out from), from Erith (a small place on the river below London where ships set out from)—the adventurers (men who go out looking for risk and fortune) and the settlers; kings’ ships and the ships of men on ’Change (traders, named from the Exchange, the London building where merchants met to do business); captains, admirals (the highest officers in a navy), the dark “interlopers (traders who pushed in where they had no right to be)” of the Eastern trade (the trade with India, China and the islands beyond), and the commissioned (given official orders and authority) “generals” of East India fleets (the groups of ships of the East India Company, which traded with Asia). Hunters for gold or pursuers (people chasing after something) of fame (being known to everyone), they all had gone out on that stream, bearing the sword, and often the torch (a burning stick carried to give light), messengers (people sent out to carry word) of the might within the land (the power of the country standing behind them), bearers of a spark from the sacred fire (men carrying away a piece of what their country treated as holy). What greatness had not floated (this is not a question: it means that every kind of high achievement there was went out on that river) on the ebb (the tide running back out towards open water) of that river into the mystery of an unknown earth!... The dreams of men, the seed of commonwealths (whole states made of many peoples under one rule), the germs (first beginnings, not anything to do with illness) of empires.

The sun set; the dusk (the half-light after the sun goes down) fell on the stream, and lights began to appear along the shore. The Chapman light-house (a light tower standing out in the water at the mouth of the river), a three-legged (standing on three supports) thing erect (standing straight up) on a mud-flat (a flat stretch of wet mud left bare when the water goes out), shone (was very bright) strongly. Lights of ships moved in the fairway (the deep middle channel that ships must keep to)—a great stir (busy movement, not the mixing sense) of lights going up and going down. And farther west on the upper reaches (the parts of the river farthest from open water) the place of the monstrous (enormous in size; here the word is about how big it is) town was still (even now) marked ominously (in a way that warns of something bad coming) on the sky, a brooding (hanging heavy and low, as if full of dark thoughts) gloom (half-darkness) in sunshine, a lurid (an ugly, too-bright colour) glare (hard bright light) under the stars.

“And this also,” said Marlow suddenly, “has been one of the dark places of the earth ('this' is the English river they are floating on, and 'dark' is live in two senses together: without light, and unknown to the rest of the world).”

He was the only (the single one among us) man of us who still (even now) “followed the sea (made his living working on ships).” The worst that could be said of him was that he did not represent his class (the sort of men he belonged to, not a room of pupils). He was a seaman (a man whose working life is on ships), but he was a wanderer (a man who moves from place to place), too, while most seamen (men whose working life is on ships) lead, if one may so express it, a sedentary (spent mostly sitting still in one place) life. Their minds are of the stay-at-home order (the kind of mind that never wants to leave home), and their home is always with them—the ship; and so is their country—the sea. One ship is very much like another, and the sea is always the same. In the immutability (never changing at all) of their surroundings the foreign shores, the foreign faces, the changing immensity (something so large it has no edge) of life, glide (move smoothly and quietly) past, veiled (covered over as if by a thin cloth) not by a sense of mystery but by a slightly disdainful (treating a thing as beneath your attention) ignorance (not knowing); for there is nothing (because there is nothing) mysterious to a seaman unless it be the sea itself, which is the mistress of his existence (the thing that rules his whole life) and as inscrutable (impossible to read or understand) as Destiny (the power that decides in advance what will happen to you). For the rest (apart from that), after his hours of work, a casual stroll (a slow easy walk) or a casual spree (a short burst of drinking and pleasure) on shore suffices (is enough) to unfold (open out and show) for him the secret of a whole continent, and generally he finds the secret not worth knowing. The yarns (long stories told for pleasure, not thread) of seamen have a direct simplicity (being plain and easy to grasp), the whole meaning of which lies within the shell of a cracked nut (the meaning sits right inside the words, where you find it by breaking them open). But Marlow was not typical (if his propensity (a settled habit of doing something) to spin yarns (tell long stories for pleasure) be excepted (be left out of the count)), and to him the meaning of an episode (one stretch of what happened to him, not part of a television series) was not inside like a kernel (the soft seed inside a nut's hard shell) but outside, enveloping (wrapping right round) the tale which brought it out (made it show) only as a glow (a soft steady light) brings out a haze (thin mist hanging in the air), in the likeness of (in the shape of) one of these misty halos (rings of light) that sometimes are made visible by the spectral (pale and ghostly) illumination (light thrown onto something) of moonshine (the light of the moon, not home-made alcohol).

His remark did not seem at all surprising. It was just like Marlow. It was accepted in silence. No one took the trouble to (bothered to) grunt (a short low sound in the throat) even; and presently (soon after, not 'at present') he said, very slow—“I was thinking of very old times, when the Romans (the people of ancient Rome, whose army ruled Britain long ago) first came here, nineteen hundred years ago—the other day (Marlow says it lightly on purpose: nineteen centuries is nothing at all set against the age of the earth) .... Light came out of this river since (since that time, learning and rule have spread out from here)—you say Knights? Yes; but it is like a running blaze on a plain (a fire racing across flat open ground), like a flash of lightning in the clouds. We live in the flicker (the short shaky moment of light we live in)—may it last as long as the old earth keeps rolling! But darkness was here yesterday. Imagine the feelings of a commander (the officer in charge of a ship) of a fine—what d’ye call ’em (what do you call them)?—trireme (a long ancient warship driven by three rows of oars) in the Mediterranean (the warm sea between southern Europe and north Africa), ordered suddenly to the north; run overland (across the land instead of by water) across the Gauls (the peoples living in what is now France) in a hurry; put in charge of one of these craft (given command of one of these boats, the kind the soldiers used to build) the legionaries (the ordinary foot soldiers of the Roman army)—a wonderful lot of handy (good with their hands) men they must have been, too—used to build, apparently by the hundred, in a month or two, if we may believe what we read. Imagine him here—the very end of the world, a sea the colour of lead (a dull heavy grey), a sky the colour of smoke, a kind of ship about as rigid (stiff, and not bending) as a concertina (a small squeeze-box that folds in and out to make music)—and going up this river with stores (supplies of food and goods, not shops), or orders, or what you like (or anything else you care to name). Sand-banks (long ridges of sand under shallow water), marshes (soft wet ground), forests, savages (the word Europeans of the time used for peoples they had conquered or meant to conquer),—precious little (very little indeed) to eat fit for a civilized (living the way Europeans of that time thought all people ought to live) man, nothing but Thames water to drink. No Falernian wine (a fine wine of ancient Rome, drunk by men of rank) here, no going ashore (onto the land). Here and there a military camp lost in a wilderness (empty country where nobody lives and nothing is farmed), like a needle in a bundle (a pile of it tied up together) of hay (dried grass stored up for animals)—cold, fog, tempests (violent storms), disease, exile (being made to live far from your own country), and death—death skulking (waiting hidden, ready to strike) in the air, in the water, in the bush (wild uncleared country, not a single plant). They must have been dying like flies (dying in great numbers, one after another) here. Oh, yes—he did it. Did it very well, too, no doubt, and without thinking much about it either, except afterwards to brag (speak proudly of what he had done) of what he had gone through (suffered and survived) in his time (in his younger days), perhaps. They were men enough (brave enough) to face the darkness. And perhaps he was cheered by keeping his eye on (always watching for) a chance of promotion to the fleet at Ravenna (the Roman navy's home port in Italy, a safe and wanted posting) by and by (after a while), if he had good friends in Rome and survived the awful climate. Or think of a decent (ordinary and respectable) young citizen in a toga (the long loose robe a Roman citizen wore)—perhaps too much dice (he had lost too much money gambling and needed to make it back), you know—coming out here in the train of (travelling as part of someone's party) some prefect (a Roman official sent out to govern a district), or tax-gatherer (a man sent to collect the ruler's money from the people), or trader (a man who buys and sells) even, to mend his fortunes (get his money back after losing it). Land in a swamp (soft wet ground with water standing on it), march through the woods, and in some inland post (a station set up away from the coast) feel the savagery (living with none of the rules and comforts Europeans knew), the utter (complete and total, not to speak) savagery, had closed round him—all that mysterious life of the wilderness (empty country where nobody lives and nothing is farmed) that stirs in the forest, in the jungles, in the hearts of wild men. There’s no initiation (a ceremony that lets a new person into a closed group) either into such mysteries. He has to live in the midst (the middle) of the incomprehensible (things he could not understand at all), which is also detestable (hateful). And it has a fascination (a pull he cannot resist), too, that goes to work upon him (begins to change him from the inside). The fascination of the abomination (a thing so foul it makes you sick)—you know, imagine the growing regrets, the longing (a deep wish) to escape, the powerless (unable to do anything about it) disgust (a strong sick dislike), the surrender (the giving in completely), the hate.”

He paused.

“Mind (pay attention to this),” he began again, lifting one arm from the elbow, the palm of the hand outwards, so that, with his legs folded before him, he had the pose of a Buddha (he is sitting exactly as statues of the Buddha sit: calm, one hand lifted, teaching) preaching (teaching about religion out loud) in European clothes and without a lotus-flower (the water flower the Buddha is always shown seated on)—“Mind, none of us would feel exactly like this. What saves us is efficiency (getting work done well and without waste)—the devotion (giving yourself over to something completely) to efficiency. But these chaps (men, fellows) were not much account (not worth much; 'account' here is worth, not a bank record), really. They were no colonists (people who go and settle in a country that is not theirs); their administration (their way of governing the place, not office paperwork) was merely a squeeze (a pressing of the people for everything they had), and nothing more, I suspect. They were conquerors (men who take a country by force), and for that you want only (you need only) brute force (nothing but raw strength)—nothing to boast (speak proudly about yourself) of, when you have it, since your strength is just an accident arising from the weakness of others. They grabbed what they could get for the sake of (in order to get) what was to be got (whatever there was to take). It was just robbery with violence, aggravated murder (killing made worse by extra cruelty, in the language of the law courts) on a great scale (in very large amounts), and men going at it blind (doing it without looking at what they were doing)—as is very proper (exactly right and fitting, not a matter of good manners) for those who tackle (attack and fight, not a move in football) a darkness. The conquest (taking a country by force) of the earth, which mostly means (amounts to) the taking it away from those who have a different complexion (the colour of the skin of the face) or slightly flatter noses than ourselves, is not a pretty thing when you look into it (examine it closely) too much. What redeems it is the idea only. (Marlow has just called all this robbery and murder; here he turns and names the one thing he thinks makes up for it) An idea at the back of it (lying behind it and holding it up); not a sentimental (full of soft feeling and no thought) pretence (a false show) but an idea; and an unselfish (thinking of others before yourself) belief in the idea—something you can set up (stand upright in a place of honour), and bow down before (bend low in front of, the way people do in worship), and offer a sacrifice to (give up something valuable for it, the way people do for a god)....”

He broke off (stopped speaking suddenly). Flames (the coloured lamps of the moving ships) glided (moved smoothly and quietly) in the river, small green flames, red flames, white flames, pursuing (chasing), overtaking (catching up and passing), joining, crossing each other—then separating slowly or hastily (in a hurry). The traffic of the great city went on in the deepening (growing darker and thicker) night upon the sleepless river. We looked on (watched without joining in), waiting patiently (calmly, without complaining)—there was nothing else to do till the end of the flood (the tide running in from open water); but it was only (not until) after a long silence, when he said, in a hesitating voice, “I suppose you fellows (men) remember I did once turn fresh-water sailor (work for a while on a river boat instead of at sea) for a bit (for a short while),” that we knew we were fated (certain to have it happen to us), before the ebb (the tide running back out towards open water) began to run, to hear about one of Marlow’s inconclusive (ending without settling anything) experiences.

“I don’t want to bother you much with what happened to me personally,” (from here on 'I' is Marlow, talking out loud to the four men sitting with him on the boat -- not the man who began the book) he began, showing in this remark the weakness of many tellers of tales who seem so often unaware (not knowing) of what their audience would like best to hear; “yet to understand the effect of it on me you ought to know how I got out there, what I saw, how I went up that river to the place where I first met the poor chap (man, fellow). It was the farthest point of navigation (as far up the river as a boat can go) and the culminating point (the highest point, where everything came together) of my experience. It seemed somehow to throw a kind of light on (make things clearer) everything about me—and into my thoughts. It was sombre (dark and heavy-looking) enough, too—and pitiful (sad enough to make you feel sorry)—not extraordinary in any way—not very clear either. No, not very clear. And yet it seemed to throw a kind of light.

“I had then, as you remember, just returned to London after a lot of Indian Ocean (the sea lying between Africa, India and Australia), Pacific (the huge ocean between Asia and America), China Seas (the waters off the coast of China)—a regular dose of the East (a good long stretch of time in the countries east of Europe)—six years or so, and I was loafing about (passing the time doing nothing), hindering (blocking and slowing down) you fellows (men) in your work and invading your homes, just as though I had got a heavenly mission to civilize you (as if God had sent me to teach you how to live: the excuse Europeans gave for taking other countries, and he is laughing at himself). It was very fine for a time, but after a bit I did get tired of resting. Then I began to look for a ship—I should think (in my opinion) the hardest work on earth. But the ships wouldn’t even look at me (no ship would give him work). And I got tired of that game (that business of looking for work, not something played for fun), too.

“Now (a way of starting a story, not 'at this moment') when I was a little chap (when I was a small boy) I had a passion (a very strong liking) for maps. I would look for hours at South America (the southern half of the American continent), or Africa, or Australia (the island continent south-east of Asia), and lose myself in (forget everything else while doing it) all the glories of exploration (travelling into country no outsider has mapped). At that time there were many blank spaces (parts of the map left empty because Europeans had not been there; the people already living there were not counted) on the earth, and when I saw one that looked particularly inviting on a map (but they all look that (every blank space on a map looks inviting)) I would put my finger on it and say, ‘When I grow up I will go there.’ The North Pole (the point at the very top of the world, in the frozen sea) was one of these places, I remember. Well, (a word that picks the story up again, not 'in a good way') I haven’t been there yet, and shall not try now. The glamour’s off (it no longer looks exciting). Other places were scattered about the hemispheres (the two halves of the world). I have been in some of them, and... well, we won’t talk about that. But there was one yet—the biggest, the most blank, so to speak (to put it roughly)—that I had a hankering after (a longing to reach).

“True, by this time it was not a blank space (a part of the map left empty because Europeans had not been there) any more. It had got filled since my boyhood (the years when he was a child) with rivers and lakes and names. It had ceased (stopped) to be a blank space of delightful mystery—a white patch (a small area of a different colour, not a piece sewn onto cloth) for a boy to dream gloriously (with great delight) over. It had become a place of darkness. But there was in it one river especially, a mighty (very; here the word only makes the next one stronger) big river, that you could see on the map, resembling an immense snake uncoiled (on the map the river lay stretched out straight, the way a snake lies when it is not rolled in rings), with its head in the sea, its body at rest curving afar (far off) over a vast (very wide and large) country, and its tail (its thin far end, where a snake's body would finish) lost in the depths of the land. And as I looked at the map of it in a shop-window, it fascinated me as a snake would a bird (people then believed a snake could hold a bird still with its stare so that it could not fly away)—a silly little bird. Then I remembered there was a big concern (a large business, not a worry), a Company for trade (the trading firm; from here on 'the Company' always means this one business) on that river. Dash it all! (a mild swear, roughly 'damn it') I thought to myself, they can’t trade without using some kind of craft (boats, not skill with the hands) on that lot of fresh water (river water, not salty sea water)—steamboats (boats driven by a steam engine that burns wood or coal)! Why shouldn’t I try to get charge of (be put in command of) one? I went on along Fleet Street (a street in the middle of London), but could not shake off (get rid of) the idea. The snake had charmed (held still as if by a spell, the way a snake is said to hold a bird) me.

“You understand it was a Continental (belonging to mainland Europe rather than Britain) concern (a business, not a worry), that Trading society (a trading company, not a group of friends); but I have a lot of relations (family members, not links between things) living on the Continent (mainland Europe, as the British called it), because it’s cheap and not so nasty as it looks, they say.

“I am sorry to own (admit, not possess) I began to worry them (keep pressing and bothering them, not make them anxious). This was already a fresh departure (a new way of doing things, not a leaving) for me. I was not used to get things that way, you know. I always went my own road (did things my own way) and on my own legs (without help from anyone) where I had a mind to (wanted to) go. I wouldn’t have believed it of myself; but, then—you see—I felt somehow I must get there by hook or by crook (by any means at all, fair or not). So I worried them. The men said ‘My dear fellow (an easy, friendly way men spoke to one another then; here it means no more than 'yes, yes, my friend'),’ and did nothing. Then—would you believe it?—I tried the women. I, Charlie (Marlow's first name) Marlow, set the women to work—to get a job. Heavens! (a cry of surprise, roughly 'oh dear!') Well, you see, the notion (the idea) drove me. I had an aunt, a dear enthusiastic (full of eager excitement) soul (person; here it does not mean the spirit inside). She wrote: ‘It will be delightful. I am ready to do anything, anything for you. It is a glorious idea. I know the wife of a very high personage (a very important official) in the Administration (the officials who govern out there), and also a man who has lots of influence with,’ etc. She was determined (fixed on doing it, not 'found out by measuring') to make no end of fuss (make a great deal of noise and trouble about it) to get me appointed skipper (the captain of a small boat) of a river steamboat (a boat driven by a steam engine that burns wood or coal), if such was my fancy (what I wanted, not something imaginary).

“I got my appointment (the job I had been given, not a meeting time)—of course; and I got it very quick. It appears the Company (the trading firm Marlow has just signed on with) had received news that one of their captains had been killed in a scuffle (a short rough fight) with the natives (the people who live there; the word marks them off as not European). This was my chance, and it made me the more anxious to go (even keener to go). It was only (not until) months and months afterwards, when I made the attempt to recover (get back, not get well again) what was left of the body, that I heard the original quarrel (an angry argument) arose (started) from a misunderstanding about some hens (female chickens). Yes, two black hens (female chickens). Fresleven (a captain who worked for the Company)—that was the fellow’s name, a Dane (a man from Denmark, in northern Europe)—thought himself wronged (treated unfairly) somehow in the bargain (in the deal they had made), so he went ashore (onto the land) and started to hammer (beat with heavy blows, not the tool) the chief of the village with a stick. Oh, it didn’t surprise me in the least (even slightly) to hear this, and at the same time to be told that Fresleven was the gentlest, quietest creature that ever walked on two legs (man who ever lived). No doubt he was; but he had been a couple of years already out there engaged in the noble cause (Marlow is repeating the Company's own grand word for the work; the man he is describing beat a village chief with a stick), you know, and he probably felt the need at last of asserting his self-respect (proving to himself that he still counted for something) in some way. Therefore he whacked (hit hard) the old nigger (a violent insult for a Black person, left standing because it is the word Conrad's narrator uses) mercilessly (without stopping and without pity), while a big crowd of his people watched him, thunderstruck (too shocked to move), till some man—I was told the chief’s son—in desperation (the state of having no hope left) at hearing the old chap (man, fellow) yell, made a tentative (half-hearted and unsure) jab (a short sharp push with a point) with a spear (a long pole with a sharp point, thrown or pushed) at the white man—and of course it went quite easy (the spear went in easily) between the shoulder-blades (the flat bones in the upper back). Then the whole population cleared into the forest (every person in the village ran off into the trees), expecting all kinds of calamities (disasters) to happen, while, on the other hand, the steamer (a ship driven by a steam engine) Fresleven commanded (was in charge of) left also in a bad panic, in charge (command; here it is the engineer who is left running the ship) of the engineer, I believe. Afterwards nobody seemed to trouble (bother themselves, not feel anxious) much about Fresleven’s remains (a dead body, not what is left over from a meal), till I got out (arrived out there) and stepped into his shoes (took over his job). I couldn’t let it rest (leave the matter alone), though; but when an opportunity offered (a chance came) at last to meet my predecessor (the man who held the job before me), the grass growing through his ribs (the curved bones round the chest) was tall enough to hide his bones. They were all there. The supernatural being had not been touched after he fell. (nobody had gone near the white man's body: the villagers had taken him for something more than human) And the village was deserted (with nobody left in it), the huts gaped (stood wide open) black, rotting (going bad and falling apart), all askew (leaning crookedly) within the fallen enclosures (fences shutting a space in). A calamity (a disaster) had come to it, sure enough (just as you would expect). The people had vanished (gone, with no trace left). Mad terror had scattered them, men, women, and children, through the bush (wild uncleared country, not a single plant), and they had never returned. What became of (What happened in the end to) the hens (female chickens) I don’t know either. I should think the cause of progress got them (he means the Company's men ate the hens; 'progress' is the grand word the Company used for what it was doing), anyhow. However, through this glorious affair (business, not a love affair) I got my appointment, before I had fairly (properly and fully, not 'quite a lot') begun to hope for it.

“I flew around like mad (rushed about wildly) to get ready, and before forty-eight hours I was crossing the Channel (the strip of sea between England and France) to show myself to my employers (the people who were giving him the job), and sign the contract (a written agreement he had to sign). In a very few hours I arrived in a city that always makes me think of a whited sepulchre (a phrase from the Bible for a tomb painted white outside and full of rot within: a place that looks clean and is not). Prejudice (a fixed dislike formed before you know anything) no doubt. I had no difficulty in finding the Company’s (the trading firm Marlow has signed on with) offices. It was the biggest thing in the town, and everybody I met was full of it (talking about nothing else). They were going to run an over-sea empire (a set of far-off countries taken and ruled from Europe), and make no end of coin (earn a great deal of money) by trade.

“A narrow and deserted (with nobody in it) street in deep shadow, high houses, innumerable (too many to count) windows with venetian blinds (window covers made of flat strips that tilt to shut out the light), a dead silence, grass sprouting (pushing up and growing) between the stones, imposing (large and grand enough to impress you) carriage archways (arched openings wide enough for a horse and carriage to drive through) right and left, immense (huge) double doors standing ponderously (heavily and slowly) ajar (open by a small gap). I slipped through one of these cracks (narrow openings), went up a swept (brushed clean) and ungarnished (with nothing on it for show) staircase (a set of steps going up inside a building), as arid (completely dry) as a desert, and opened the first door I came to. Two women, one fat and the other slim, sat on straw-bottomed chairs (chairs whose seats are woven from dried grass stems), knitting black wool. The slim one got up and walked straight at me—still (without stopping) knitting with downcast eyes (eyes turned down towards the ground)—and only (just at the moment when) just as I began to think of getting out of her way (stepping aside for her), as you would for a somnambulist (a person who walks about while asleep), stood still, and looked up. Her dress was as plain as an umbrella-cover (as dull and shabby as the black sleeve an umbrella is kept in), and she turned round without a word and preceded (went in front of) me into a waiting-room. I gave my name, and looked about. Deal table (a plain table of cheap soft pine) in the middle, plain chairs all round the walls, on one end a large shining (bright) map, marked with all the colours of a rainbow (on maps of the time each European country's holdings in Africa were printed in its own colour). There was a vast amount of red (red marked everything Britain held)—good to see at any time, because one knows that some real work is done in there, a deuce of a lot (a very great deal) of blue, a little green, smears (rough streaks of colour) of orange, and, on the East Coast (the eastern side of Africa), a purple patch (purple marked what Portugal held), to show where the jolly pioneers of progress (Marlow means the opposite: men who went out for money and beer, not for anyone's good) drink the jolly lager-beer (a light German-style beer). However, I wasn’t going into any of these. I was going into the yellow (yellow marked the huge stretch of central Africa owned privately by the king of Belgium). Dead in the centre (exactly in the middle, and 'dead' is doing the work of 'exactly'). And the river was there—fascinating—deadly—like a snake. Ough! (a sound of disgust and fear, like a shudder) A door opened, a white-haired (with hair gone white with age) secretarial (belonging to a person who writes letters for an office) head, but wearing a compassionate (full of pity) expression, appeared, and a skinny (very thin) forefinger (the finger next to the thumb) beckoned (waved to call me in) me into the sanctuary (the holiest inner room of a temple; here, the private office at the far end). Its light was dim (weak, so the room was half dark), and a heavy writing-desk squatted (sat low and heavy) in the middle. From behind that structure came out (from behind it a man came out) an impression of pale plumpness (being fat and soft from good feeding) in a frock-coat (a long formal coat down to the knees, worn by important men). The great man himself. He was five feet six (about one metre sixty-eight: short for a grown man), I should judge (I would guess), and had his grip on the handle-end of ever so many millions (he held the controls of an enormous amount of money). He shook hands, I fancy (I think, not I like), murmured (spoke low and unclearly) vaguely (without saying anything clear), was satisfied with my French. Bon Voyage (French: have a good journey).

“In about forty-five seconds I found myself again in the waiting-room with the compassionate (full of pity) secretary, who, full of desolation (a feeling of empty sadness) and sympathy, made me sign some document. I believe I undertook (promised) amongst (among) other things not to disclose (tell to anyone outside) any trade secrets. Well, I am not going to.

“I began to feel slightly uneasy (uncomfortable, as if something is wrong). You know I am not used to such ceremonies (formal official business of this kind, not weddings), and there was something ominous (warning of something bad to come) in the atmosphere. It was just as though I had been let into (allowed to share in) some conspiracy (a secret plan by several people to do something wrong)—I don’t know—something not quite right; and I was glad to get out. In the outer room the two women knitted black wool feverishly (very fast, as if driven). People were arriving, and the younger one was walking back and forth (one way and then the other) introducing them. The old one sat on her chair. Her flat cloth slippers (soft shoes worn indoors) were propped up (resting on something that supported them) on a foot-warmer (a small box of hot coals to rest the feet on), and a cat reposed (lay resting) on her lap (the flat top of the legs when sitting, not a circuit of a track). She wore a starched white affair (a stiff white cap; 'affair' here just means 'thing') on her head, had a wart (a small hard lump growing on the skin) on one cheek, and silver-rimmed (with a thin silver ring round each lens) spectacles (eye-glasses, not a grand show) hung (rested) on the tip of her nose. She glanced at me above the glasses. The swift (very quick) and indifferent (not caring either way, not 'rather poor') placidity (the calm of a person nothing ever upsets) of that look troubled (worried) me. Two youths (young men) with foolish and cheery (bright and happy-looking) countenances (faces) were being piloted over (guided across the room), and she threw at them the same quick glance of unconcerned (not troubled by anything) wisdom. She seemed to know all about them and about me, too. An eerie (strange in a way that makes you afraid) feeling came over me. She seemed uncanny (strange beyond any explaining) and fateful (deciding what is going to happen to you). Often far away there I thought of these two, guarding the door of Darkness (the way in to the dark country he is travelling to), knitting black wool as for a warm pall (the black cloth spread over a coffin), one introducing, introducing continuously to the unknown, the other scrutinizing (looking closely and carefully at) the cheery and foolish faces with unconcerned old eyes. Ave! (Latin: greetings -- the shout given to a ruler) Old knitter (a woman making cloth by looping thread over needles) of black wool. Morituri te salutant (Latin: 'those who are about to die salute you' -- what fighters called out to the emperor before dying in the arena). Not many of those she looked at ever saw her again—not half, by a long way (far fewer than half of them).

“There was yet a visit to the doctor. (one thing was still left: I had to see the doctor) ‘A simple formality (something done only because the rules ask for it),’ assured (told me firmly -- it is the secretary speaking) me the secretary, with an air of (looking as though he felt) taking an immense (huge) part in all my sorrows. Accordingly (so, because of that) a young chap (man, fellow) wearing his hat over the left eyebrow (the line of hair above the eye), some clerk (a man paid to write and copy papers in an office) I suppose—there must have been clerks in the business, though the house was as still as a house in a city of the dead (as silent as a house in a town where everyone has died)—came from somewhere up-stairs, and led me forth (took me out). He was shabby (worn out and badly cared for) and careless, with inkstains (dark marks left by writing ink) on the sleeves of his jacket, and his cravat (a wide cloth tied round the neck, worn where we would wear a tie) was large and billowy (puffed out in loose folds), under a chin shaped like the toe of an old boot. It was a little too early for the doctor, so I proposed a drink, and thereupon (right after that) he developed a vein of joviality (he turned cheerful and friendly). As we sat over our vermouths (a wine flavoured with herbs, drunk before a meal) he glorified (spoke of it as something splendid) the Company’s business, and by and by (after a while) I expressed casually (as if it did not matter) my surprise at him not going out there. He became very cool and collected (calm and in control of himself) all at once (suddenly). ‘I am not such a fool as I look, quoth Plato to his disciples (Plato was a famous ancient Greek thinker whose pupils wrote down his sayings; the clerk has made this one up and put his own boast in Plato's mouth),’ he said sententiously (as if he had just said something very wise), emptied his glass with great resolution (a strong and settled will, not a decision written down), and we rose.

“The old doctor felt my pulse (put his fingers on my wrist to count the beat of my heart), evidently (clearly) thinking of something else the while (all that time). ‘Good, good for there (healthy enough for the place you are going to),’ he mumbled (spoke low and unclearly), and then with a certain eagerness asked me whether I would let him measure my head. Rather surprised, I said Yes, when he produced (took out and showed, not made) a thing like calipers (a tool with two curved arms for measuring across an object) and got the dimensions (the measurements across it) back and front and every way, taking notes carefully. He was an unshaven (with hair left growing on his face) little man in a threadbare (so old and worn that the cloth is thin, almost see-through) coat like a gaberdine (a long loose coat of rough cloth), with his feet in slippers (soft shoes worn indoors), and I thought him a harmless (not able to do any harm) fool. ‘I always ask leave (ask for permission, not for time away), in the interests of science (to help science learn more), to measure the crania (the skulls) of those going out there (travelling to that far-off country),’ he said. ‘And when they come back, too?’ I asked. ‘Oh, I never see them,’ he remarked; ‘and, moreover (and besides that), the changes take place inside (happen in the mind, not in the body), you know.’ He smiled, as if at some quiet joke. ‘So you are going out there. Famous (excellent -- an old use of the word). Interesting, too.’ He gave me a searching glance (a long hard look, as if trying to see inside me), and made another note. ‘Ever any madness (loss of the mind) in your family?’ he asked, in a matter-of-fact tone (as if it were an ordinary question). I felt very annoyed. ‘Is that question in the interests of science, too?’ ‘It would be,’ he said, without taking notice of my irritation (my anger at being asked such a question), ‘interesting for science to watch the mental changes of individuals, on the spot (right there, in the place itself), but...’ ‘Are you an alienist (the old name for a doctor who treats diseases of the mind)?’ I interrupted. ‘Every doctor should be—a little,’ answered that original (that odd character; here the word means a person, not the first of something), imperturbably (without letting anything shake him). ‘I have a little theory which you messieurs (French: gentlemen) who go out there must help me to prove. This is my share in the advantages my country shall reap (get) from the possession of such a magnificent dependency (a splendid possession: a country owned and governed from Europe). The mere wealth I leave to others (I leave the money itself to other people; that is not what I want from it). Pardon my questions, but you are the first Englishman (a man from England) coming under my observation (that I have examined)...’ I hastened (hurried) to assure (tell firmly) him I was not in the least (at all) typical. ‘If I were,’ said I, ‘I wouldn’t be talking like this with you.’ ‘What you say is rather profound (deep), and probably erroneous (wrong),’ he said, with a laugh. ‘Avoid irritation (the anger that rises in you when you are annoyed) more than exposure (being out under the open sun with nothing over your head) to the sun. Adieu (French: goodbye). How do you English say, eh? Good-bye. Ah! Good-bye. Adieu. In the tropics (the hot belt of the world around the middle) one must before everything keep calm.’... He lifted a warning forefinger (the finger next to the thumb).... ‘Du calme, du calme (French: keep calm, keep calm).’

“One thing more remained to do—say good-bye to my excellent aunt. I found her triumphant (full of the joy of having won). I had a cup of tea—the last decent (good, proper) cup of tea for many days—and in a room that most soothingly (in a way that calms you) looked just as you would expect a lady’s drawing-room (the best room of a house, where guests are received) to look, we had a long quiet chat by the fireside (the space beside the fire in a room). In the course of (during) these confidences (private things said between two people, not self-belief) it became quite plain to me I had been represented (described to people, not standing in for anyone) to the wife of the high dignitary (the important official), and goodness knows (nobody could say) to how many more people besides, as an exceptional (far above the ordinary) and gifted creature—a piece of good fortune for the Company—a man you don’t get hold of (meet) every day. Good heavens! (a cry of surprise, roughly 'I can hardly believe it') and I was going to take charge of (be given command of) a two-penny-half-penny (cheap and of no importance at all) river-steamboat (a small river vessel pushed along by an engine that burns wood) with a penny whistle (a cheap little pipe you blow; here he means the boat's steam whistle) attached! It appeared, however, I was also one of the Workers, with a capital (printed with a capital letter, as if the word were something holy)—you know. Something like an emissary of light (a man sent out to bring light to dark places -- grand words said about him, which he does not believe), something like a lower sort of apostle (one of the men Jesus sent out to carry his teaching to the world). There had been a lot of such rot (nonsense, not anything going bad) let loose (set free to spread) in print and talk just about that time, and the excellent woman, living right in the rush of all that humbug (talk meant to fool people), got carried off her feet (believed it all and was full of excitement about it). She talked about ‘weaning those ignorant millions from their horrid ways (the way Europeans of the time described their own work: teaching whole peoples to give up how they had always lived),’ till, upon my word (an expression of surprise, roughly 'honestly'), she made me quite uncomfortable. I ventured to hint (dared to suggest) that the Company was run for profit (the money left over once the costs are paid).

“‘You forget, dear Charlie (Marlow's first name), that the labourer is worthy of his hire (a line from the Bible: a man who works deserves to be paid),’ she said, brightly. It’s queer how out of touch with truth women are. (strange how far women are from seeing things as they really are -- Marlow's own opinion, said out loud to his friends, and the story does not stand behind it) They live in a world of their own, and there has never been anything like it, and never can be. It is too beautiful altogether, and if they were to set it up (build it and make it real) it would go to pieces (fall apart completely) before the first sunset. Some confounded (a mild swear word, roughly 'damned') fact we men have been living contentedly (happy with things as they are) with ever since the day of creation (the making of the world) would start up (suddenly appear) and knock the whole thing over (destroy the whole thing).

“After this I got embraced (hugged), told to wear flannel (soft warm cloth made from sheep's wool, worn next to the skin because people believed it kept off illness), be sure to write often, and so on—and I left. In the street—I don’t know why—a queer (strange or odd) feeling came to me that I was an imposter (someone pretending to be what he is not). Odd (strange) thing that I, who used to clear out (leave in a hurry) for any part of the world at twenty-four hours’ notice (with only a day's warning), with less thought than most men give to the crossing of a street, had a moment—I won’t say of hesitation (a pause before acting), but of startled (suddenly surprised) pause, before this commonplace (ordinary, nothing special) affair (business, not a love affair). The best way I can explain it to you is by saying that, for a second or two, I felt as though, instead of going to the centre of a continent, I were about to set off for the centre of the earth.

“I left in a French steamer (a ship driven by a steam engine), and she called in (stopped at) every blamed (a mild swear word, roughly 'damned'; nothing to do with fault) port they have out there, for, as far as I could see, the sole purpose (the only reason for stopping) of landing soldiers and custom-house officers (officials who collect the tax on goods coming into a country). I watched the coast. Watching a coast as it slips by the ship is like thinking about an enigma (a puzzle nobody can solve). There it is before you—smiling, frowning (looking angry), inviting, grand (big and impressive), mean (poor and shabby to look at, not cruel), insipid (dull, with nothing about it to hold your interest), or savage (wild and never worked on by people; not an attack), and always mute (silent) with an air of whispering (seeming to speak in a very quiet voice), ‘Come and find out.’ This one was almost featureless (with nothing on it to tell one part from another), as if still in the making (not finished, and being made even now), with an aspect (the look of it) of monotonous (all the same, with no change in it) grimness (a hard look with no joy in it). The edge of a colossal (enormous) jungle, so dark-green as to be almost black, fringed (edged all the way along) with white surf (the white water where waves break on the shore), ran straight, like a ruled line (as straight as a line drawn along the edge of a ruler), far, far away along a blue sea whose glitter (a sharp broken shine) was blurred (made unclear at the edges) by a creeping (moving slowly and low) mist (a thin cloud lying low over the ground). The sun was fierce (violently strong), the land seemed to glisten (shine wetly) and drip (fall in drops) with steam. Here and there greyish (close to grey)-whitish (close to white) specks (tiny spots) showed up (could be seen) clustered (grouped tightly together) inside the white surf, with a flag flying above them perhaps. Settlements (small places built by people who came from somewhere else) some centuries old, and still no bigger than pinheads (the tiny round tops of pins) on the untouched (with nothing yet done to it) expanse (a wide open stretch of country) of their background. We pounded along (pushed heavily onward), stopped, landed soldiers; went on, landed custom-house clerks to levy toll (collect a charge on goods passing through) in what looked like a God-forsaken (so empty and miserable that people said even God had walked away from it) wilderness (empty country where nobody lives and nothing is farmed), with a tin shed (a small rough building, not to drop something) and a flag-pole lost in it; landed more soldiers—to take care of the custom-house clerks, presumably (as one would suppose). Some, I heard, got drowned in the surf; but whether they did or not, nobody seemed particularly to care. They were just flung (thrown roughly) out there, and on we went. Every day the coast looked the same, as though we had not moved; but we passed various places—trading places—with names like Gran’ Bassam, Little Popo (two small trading places on the west coast of Africa); names that seemed to belong to some sordid (dirty and low) farce (a silly play meant to be laughed at) acted in front of a sinister (threatening something evil) back-cloth (the painted cloth hung across the back of a stage). The idleness (having nothing at all to do) of a passenger, my isolation amongst (among) all these men with whom I had no point of contact (nothing in common with them, nothing to share), the oily and languid (slow and with no energy) sea, the uniform (the same all the way along, not clothing) sombreness (the dark and heavy look of it) of the coast, seemed to keep me away from the truth of things, within the toil of (caught inside the net of; here the word means a trap, not hard work) a mournful (full of sadness) and senseless (with no meaning in it) delusion (a false belief you cannot shake off). The voice of the surf heard now and then (sometimes) was a positive pleasure (a real and definite pleasure; 'positive' here means certain), like the speech of a brother. It was something natural, that had its reason, that had a meaning. Now and then (sometimes) a boat from the shore gave one a momentary (lasting only a moment) contact with reality. It was paddled by black fellows (men). You could see from afar (far off) the white of their eyeballs (the round balls of the eyes -- it is the white part around the centre that shows) glistening (shining wetly). They shouted, sang; their bodies streamed with perspiration (sweat); they had faces like grotesque (strange and ugly) masks (covers worn over the face)—these chaps (men); but they had bone, muscle, a wild vitality (life and strength), an intense energy (force and life) of movement, that was as natural and true as the surf along their coast. They wanted no excuse (needed no reason to be there) for being there. They were a great comfort to look at. For a time I would feel I belonged still to a world of straightforward (plain and easy to understand) facts; but the feeling would not last long. Something would turn up (appear without warning) to scare it away. Once, I remember, we came upon (found by chance) a man-of-war (a warship) anchored (held in place by a heavy weight dropped to the sea bed) off the coast. There wasn’t even a shed (a small rough building, not to drop something) there, and she was shelling (firing heavy guns at) the bush (wild uncleared country, not a single plant). It appears the French had one of their wars going on thereabouts (in that part of the country). Her ensign (the flag that shows which country a ship belongs to) dropped limp (hanging loose and soft) like a rag (a torn piece of old cloth); the muzzles (the open front ends of the guns) of the long six-inch (about as wide across the mouth as a man's hand is long) guns stuck out (pointed outwards) all over the low hull (the body of a ship, the part that sits in the water); the greasy (with a slippery film on it), slimy (covered in thick wet dirt) swell (the slow rise and fall of the sea, not growing bigger) swung (moved with a long slow motion) her up lazily (slowly and with no effort) and let her down (lowered her again), swaying (rocking slowly from side to side) her thin masts (the tall poles standing up from the floor of a ship). In the empty immensity (something so large it has no edge) of earth, sky, and water, there she was, incomprehensible (impossible to understand), firing into a continent. Pop, would go one of the six-inch guns (one of the six-inch guns would go pop); a small flame (a small burst of fire) would dart (shoot out quickly) and vanish (go, leaving no trace), a little white smoke would disappear, a tiny projectile (something fired out of a gun) would give a feeble (weak) screech (a high scraping cry)—and nothing happened. Nothing could happen. There was a touch of insanity (a mind not working right) in the proceeding (the thing being done, not moving forward), a sense of lugubrious (heavy with sadness) drollery (something odd enough to be funny) in the sight; and it was not dissipated (driven away and broken up) by somebody on board assuring (telling me firmly) me earnestly (seriously, and meaning it) there was a camp of natives—he called them enemies!—hidden out of sight somewhere.

“We gave her her letters (I heard the men in that lonely ship were dying of fever at the rate of three a day) and went on. We called at (stopped for a short time at) some more places with farcical (ridiculous, like a silly play) names, where the merry dance (cheerful-looking busy activity) of death and trade goes on (keeps happening) in a still (with no movement of air, not 'even now') and earthy (smelling of soil) atmosphere as of (like the air of) an overheated (made far too hot) catacomb (an underground passage where the dead are laid in the walls); all along (the whole length of) the formless (with no clear shape) coast bordered by dangerous surf (the white water where waves break on the shore), as if Nature herself had tried to ward off (keep away) intruders (people pushing in where they are not wanted); in and out of rivers, streams of death in life (rivers that look full of life and carry death), whose banks were rotting (going bad and falling apart) into mud, whose waters, thickened (become thick) into slime (thick soft wet dirt), invaded the contorted (twisted out of shape) mangroves (trees that grow in salt mud, with roots standing above the water), that seemed to writhe (twist about as if in pain) at us in the extremity (the very worst point) of an impotent (with no power to do anything about it) despair. Nowhere did we stop long enough to get a particularized (made of separate clear details) impression, but the general sense of vague and oppressive (heavy and hard to bear) wonder grew upon me (slowly grew stronger in me). It was like a weary (tired out) pilgrimage (a long hard journey made to reach a holy place) amongst (among) hints (small signs pointing at something) for nightmares (bad dreams that make you afraid).

“It was upward of (more than) thirty days before I saw the mouth of the big river (the place where the big river runs out into the sea). We anchored (held in place by a heavy weight dropped to the river bed) off the seat of the government (the town the government is based in). But my work would not begin till some two hundred miles (far enough to be many days' travel away) farther on. So as soon as I could I made a start for a place thirty miles (about a day's journey by boat) higher up.

“I had my passage (had bought my place on board) on a little sea-going steamer (a ship driven by a steam engine). Her captain was a Swede (a man from Sweden, in northern Europe), and knowing me for a seaman (a man whose working life is on ships), invited me on the bridge (the raised platform a ship is steered from). He was a young man, lean (thin), fair (light-haired, not just or reasonable), and morose (silent and in a bad mood), with lanky (long and thin) hair and a shuffling (dragging the feet along the ground) gait (the way a person walks). As we left the miserable little wharf (a landing place where boats tie up), he tossed his head contemptuously (as if they deserved no respect at all) at the shore. ‘Been living there?’ he asked. I said, ‘Yes.’ ‘Fine lot (he means the opposite: a poor bunch of men) these government chaps (men)—are they not?’ he went on (kept talking), speaking English with great precision and considerable bitterness (a hard angry feeling). ‘It is funny what some people will do for a few francs (French money; a few a month was very little to live on) a month. I wonder what becomes of (happens in the end to) that kind when it goes upcountry (inland, away from the coast)?’ I said to him I expected to see that soon. ‘So-o-o!’ he exclaimed (said suddenly and loudly). He shuffled (moved with dragging feet) athwart (across the deck from one side to the other), keeping one eye ahead vigilantly (watching closely all the time). ‘Don’t be too sure,’ he continued. ‘The other day (a few days ago) I took up (picked up and carried) a man who hanged himself on the road. He was a Swede, too.’ ‘Hanged himself! Why, in God’s name (said in shock, roughly 'but why, of all things?')?’ I cried (called out loudly, not wept). He kept on looking out watchfully (with careful attention on what lay ahead). ‘Who knows? The sun too much for him (the heat was more than he could bear), or the country perhaps.’

“At last we opened a reach (turned a bend and saw a new straight stretch of the river ahead). A rocky (made of bare stone) cliff appeared, mounds (heaps) of turned-up (dug out of the ground and thrown into heaps) earth by the shore, houses on a hill, others with iron roofs, amongst (among) a waste of excavations (holes dug out of the ground), or hanging to the declivity (the slope). A continuous noise of the rapids (the stretch where a river runs fast and rough over rocks) above hovered (hung in the air above it) over this scene of inhabited (lived in by people) devastation (complete ruin). A lot of people, mostly black and naked, moved about like ants. A jetty (a platform built out over the water for boats to come alongside) projected (stuck out over the water; nothing to do with plans) into the river. A blinding sunlight drowned (swallowed the whole scene in light, so nothing could be seen) all this at times in a sudden recrudescence (the sun's fierce light suddenly coming back as strong as before) of glare (hard bright light). ‘There’s your Company’s station,’ said the Swede, pointing to three wooden barrack-like (plain and bare, like the huts soldiers sleep in) structures on the rocky slope. ‘I will send your things up. Four boxes did you say? So. Farewell (goodbye).’

“I came upon (found by chance) a boiler (the big iron tank where water is heated to make steam) wallowing (lying half sunk) in the grass, then found a path leading up the hill. It turned aside for (bent round to get past) the boulders (very large rounded stones), and also for an undersized (smaller than it ought to be) railway-truck (a small open railway wagon) lying there on its back with its wheels in the air. One was off (one of the wheels was missing). The thing looked as dead as the carcass (the dead body of an animal) of some animal. I came upon more pieces of decaying (falling to pieces with age) machinery, a stack (a pile) of rusty (covered in the red-brown crust that wet iron grows) rails (the metal bars a train runs along). To the left a clump (a small tight group) of trees made a shady (out of the sun) spot, where dark things seemed to stir (move a little) feebly (weakly). I blinked (shut and opened my eyes quickly), the path was steep. A horn tooted (made a short blowing sound) to the right, and I saw the black people run. A heavy and dull detonation (the bang of an explosion) shook the ground, a puff (a small quick cloud) of smoke came out of the cliff, and that was all. No change appeared on the face of the rock. They were building a railway. The cliff was not in the way (blocking anything) or anything; but this objectless (with no purpose at all) blasting (breaking rock apart with explosives) was all the work going on.

“A slight clinking (a small sharp metal sound) behind me made me turn my head. Six black men advanced in a file (one behind another in a line), toiling (working hard and painfully) up the path. They walked erect (straight up) and slow, balancing small baskets full of earth on their heads, and the clink (a small sharp metal sound) kept time with (came at the same moment as each step) their footsteps (the sound of feet on the ground). Black rags (torn pieces of old cloth) were wound (wrapped round and round; nothing to do with an injury) round their loins (the lower part of the body around the hips), and the short ends behind waggled (moved from side to side) to and fro (one way and then back again) like tails (the long parts hanging from the back of an animal). I could see every rib (one of the curved bones round the chest), the joints of their limbs (arms and legs) were like knots (hard lumps where a rope is tied) in a rope; each had an iron collar on his neck, and all were connected together with a chain whose bights (the loose hanging loops of a chain) swung (moved with a long slow motion) between them, rhythmically (in a steady repeating beat) clinking. Another report (the bang of an explosion, not a written account) from the cliff made me think suddenly of that ship of war I had seen firing into a continent. It was the same kind of ominous (warning of something bad to come) voice; but these men could by no stretch of imagination (not in any possible way) be called enemies. They were called criminals, and the outraged law (the law spoken of as a person who has been insulted), like the bursting (breaking open with force) shells, had come to them, an insoluble (impossible to solve) mystery from the sea. All their meagre (thin and poor) breasts panted (breathed hard and fast) together, the violently dilated (opened wide) nostrils (the two openings of the nose) quivered (shook with small quick movements), the eyes stared stonily (with no feeling showing at all) uphill (up the slope). They passed me within six inches (close enough to reach out and touch), without a glance, with that complete, deathlike (like that of a dead person) indifference (not caring at all) of unhappy savages (the word Europeans of the time used for peoples they had conquered). Behind this raw matter (men spoken of as material not yet worked on) one of the reclaimed (the Company's word for an African taken into its own service and taught its ways), the product of the new forces at work, strolled (walked slowly and easily) despondently (with no hope left), carrying a rifle by its middle. He had a uniform (part of a soldier's set outfit) jacket with one button off, and seeing a white man on the path, hoisted (lifted up) his weapon to his shoulder with alacrity (quick willingness). This was simple prudence (care taken to keep out of trouble), white men being so much alike at a distance that he could not tell (could not see who was who) who I might be. He was speedily (quickly) reassured (made calm again), and with a large, white, rascally (like a cheerful thief) grin (a wide smile that shows the teeth), and a glance at his charge (the men he was set to guard, not a price or an attack), seemed to take me into partnership (as if he and I were doing the job together) in his exalted (raised high and honoured) trust (the important job he had been given, not a feeling). After all, I also was a part of the great cause of these high and just proceedings (Marlow means the opposite: he has just walked past men in iron collars chained together).

“Instead of going up, I turned and descended (went down) to the left. My idea was to let that chain-gang (a group of prisoners chained together and made to work) get out of sight (go where I could no longer see them) before I climbed the hill. You know I am not particularly tender (easily moved to pity, nothing to do with food); I’ve had to strike and to fend off (push away an attack). I’ve had to resist and to attack sometimes—that’s only (just) one way of resisting—without counting the exact cost, according to the demands of such sort of life as I had blundered into (got into by accident, without meaning to). I’ve seen the devil of violence, and the devil of greed (wanting far more than you need), and the devil of hot desire; but, by all the stars! (a shout of surprise, roughly 'I could not believe it') these were strong, lusty (full of force and life), red-eyed devils (fierce evil creatures with burning red eyes), that swayed (ruled) and drove men (pushed men forward)—men, I tell you (believe me). But as I stood on this hillside (the sloping side of a hill), I foresaw (knew before it happened) that in the blinding sunshine of that land I would become acquainted with (get to know) a flabby (soft and loose, with nothing firm in it), pretending, weak-eyed devil (an evil creature that is soft and cannot even look you in the face) of a rapacious (greedy to seize everything) and pitiless (with no pity in it) folly (stupid behaviour). How insidious (doing harm quietly and unseen) he could be, too, I was only to find out several months later and a thousand miles farther. For a moment I stood appalled (filled with horror), as though by a warning. Finally I descended the hill, obliquely (at a slant, not straight down), towards the trees I had seen.

“I avoided a vast (very wide and large) artificial (made by people, not natural) hole somebody had been digging on the slope, the purpose of which I found it impossible to divine (guess it or reason it out; nothing to do with God). It wasn’t a quarry (a place where stone is cut out of the ground) or a sandpit (a hole dug to take sand out), anyhow. It was just a hole. It might have been connected with the philanthropic (meant to do good to people) desire of giving the criminals something to do. I don’t know. Then I nearly fell into a very narrow ravine (a narrow deep cut in the ground), almost no more than a scar (a mark cut into the ground, like the one left on skin after a wound) in the hillside (the sloping side of a hill). I discovered that a lot of imported (brought in from another country) drainage-pipes (pipes for carrying dirty water away) for the settlement had been tumbled in (thrown down into it) there. There wasn’t one that was not broken. It was a wanton (done for no reason but the wish to do it) smash-up (a breaking of things to pieces). At last I got under the trees. My purpose was to stroll (walk slowly and easily) into the shade for a moment; but no sooner within than (the moment I was under the trees) it seemed to me I had stepped into the gloomy circle (he had walked into a dark ring of a place, like one of the rings of hell) of some Inferno (the hell of an old Italian poem, where the dead are set out in rings one below another). The rapids (the fast rough water where a river runs down over rocks) were near, and an uninterrupted (going on with no break), uniform (the same all the way through, not clothing), headlong (rushing forward and not stopping), rushing noise filled the mournful (full of sadness) stillness (complete quiet) of the grove (a small group of trees), where not a breath stirred, not a leaf moved, with a mysterious sound—as though the tearing pace of the launched earth (the speed of the world itself rushing through space) had suddenly become audible (able to be heard).

“Black shapes crouched (bent low with the knees drawn up), lay, sat between the trees leaning against the trunks (the thick main stems of trees, not boxes), clinging (holding on tightly) to the earth, half coming out, half effaced (rubbed out) within the dim (with very little light) light, in all the attitudes (the positions their bodies were in, not their opinions) of pain, abandonment (the state of having been left by everyone), and despair. Another mine (an explosive charge set in the rock, not a place to dig for metal) on the cliff went off (exploded), followed by a slight shudder (a short shaking) of the soil under my feet. The work was going on (still happening). The work! And this was the place where some of the helpers (the Company's word for the Africans it had brought in to work) had withdrawn (gone away out of sight) to die.

“They were dying slowly—it was very clear. They were not enemies, they were not criminals, they were nothing earthly (nothing that belonged to this world any longer) now—nothing but black shadows of disease and starvation (dying because they have no food), lying confusedly (in no order, all mixed together) in the greenish (close to green) gloom (half-darkness). Brought from all the recesses (the far inner parts) of the coast in all the legality of time contracts (every one of them brought in under a proper written agreement to work for a set number of years), lost in uncongenial (not suiting them at all) surroundings, fed on unfamiliar (strange to them) food, they sickened (fell ill), became inefficient (no longer able to do the work), and were then allowed to crawl (move along on hands and knees) away and rest. These moribund (close to death) shapes were free as air (with nothing holding them at all)—and nearly as thin. I began to distinguish (see clearly enough to tell what it was) the gleam (a faint shine) of the eyes under the trees. Then, glancing down, I saw a face near my hand. The black bones reclined (lay back) at full length (stretched right out) with one shoulder against the tree, and slowly the eyelids (the two folds of skin that shut when you sleep) rose and the sunken (fallen inwards, hollow) eyes looked up at me, enormous and vacant (empty of any expression, not 'with nobody in it'), a kind of blind, white flicker (a small shaky light) in the depths of the orbs (the eyeballs), which died out (faded away to nothing) slowly. The man seemed young—almost a boy—but you know with them it’s hard to tell (know). I found nothing else to do but to offer him one of my good Swede’s ship’s biscuits (hard dry bread baked to keep for months at sea) I had in my pocket. The fingers closed slowly on it and held (the fingers stayed closed on it)—there was no other movement and no other glance. He had tied a bit of white worsted (a smooth twisted thread made from sheep's wool) round his neck—Why? Where did he get it? Was it a badge (a small sign worn to show what you are)—an ornament (something worn only to look pretty)—a charm (an object worn to keep harm away, not pleasant manners)—a propitiatory (meant to make a god or a spirit kindly towards you) act? Was there any idea at all connected with it? It looked startling (sharply surprising) round his black neck, this bit of white thread (a thin line of cotton or wool) from beyond the seas (from far away across the ocean).

“Near the same tree two more bundles of acute angles (bodies so thin they were nothing but sharp bends) sat with their legs drawn up (pulled up close to the body). One, with his chin propped (resting on something that held it up) on his knees, stared at nothing, in an intolerable (impossible to bear) and appalling (filling you with horror) manner: his brother phantom (a ghost) rested its forehead, as if overcome with a great weariness (being tired right out); and all about (all around him) others were scattered in every pose (the position a body is held in, not to ask a question) of contorted (twisted out of shape) collapse (falling down in a heap), as in some picture of a massacre (when many are put to death together) or a pestilence (a disease that kills great numbers of people). While I stood horror-struck (frozen with horror), one of these creatures rose to his hands and knees, and went off on all-fours (on his hands and knees) towards the river to drink. He lapped (drank with his tongue, the way a dog does) out of his hand, then sat up in the sunlight, crossing his shins (the fronts of the lower legs) in front of him, and after a time let his woolly (with tight curled hair) head fall on his breastbone (the flat bone down the middle of the chest).

“I didn’t want any more loitering (standing there doing nothing) in the shade, and I made haste (hurried) towards the station. When near the buildings I met a white man, in such an unexpected elegance (a fine and stylish look) of get-up (the clothes he had on) that in the first moment I took him for (at first thought he was) a sort of vision (something seen that is not really there, not eyesight). I saw a high starched (made hard with a paste so it holds its shape) collar, white cuffs (the ends of the sleeves, at the wrist), a light alpaca (a light cloth woven from the hair of a South American animal) jacket, snowy (pure white) trousers, a clean necktie (a strip of cloth tied at the throat), and varnished boots (boots with a hard shiny coat brushed onto them). No hat. Hair parted, brushed, oiled, under a green-lined parasol (a light umbrella carried to keep the sun off) held in a big white hand. He was amazing, and had a penholder (the wooden stick a metal writing point is fitted into) behind his ear.

“I shook hands with this miracle (this astonishing sight of a man), and I learned he was the Company’s chief accountant (the man in charge of the money records), and that all the book-keeping (the writing down of every sum paid and received) was done at this station. He had come out for a moment, he said, ‘to get a breath of fresh air (to step outside for a moment). The expression sounded wonderfully (very) odd (strange to hear), with its suggestion of sedentary (spent mostly sitting still in one place) desk-life. I wouldn’t have mentioned the fellow to you at all, only (except that) it was from his lips that I first heard the name of the man who is so indissolubly (in a way that can never be undone) connected with the memories of that time. Moreover (besides that), I respected the fellow. Yes; I respected his collars, his vast (very wide and large) cuffs (the ends of the sleeves, at the wrist), his brushed hair. His appearance was certainly that of a hairdresser’s dummy (the model head in a barber's window, with the hair done perfectly); but in the great demoralization (the falling apart of all order and decency) of the land he kept up his appearance (went on looking exactly as he should). That’s backbone. (that takes real strength of character) His starched (made hard with a paste so it holds its shape) collars and got-up shirt-fronts (stiff white chest-pieces worn over the shirt) were achievements of character. He had been out nearly three years; and, later, I could not help asking (could not stop myself from asking) him how he managed to sport (wear and show off, not play a game) such linen (shirts and collars of fine white cloth). He had just the faintest blush, and said modestly (quietly, without praising himself), ‘I’ve been teaching one of the native women about the station. It was difficult. She had a distaste (a dislike) for the work.’ Thus (so) this man had verily (truly) accomplished something. And he was devoted (giving all his care to it) to his books (the account books he wrote the money records in), which were in apple-pie order (perfectly neat, every thing in its place).

“Everything else in the station was in a muddle (in complete disorder)—heads, things, buildings. Strings of (long lines of) dusty niggers (a violent insult for Black people, left standing because it is the word Conrad's narrator uses) with splay feet (feet that point outwards to the sides) arrived and departed; a stream of manufactured goods (things made in factories), rubbishy (cheap and worth nothing) cottons (cloth made from the cotton plant), beads (small coloured balls with holes through them, threaded and handed over in trade), and brass-wire (thin lengths of yellow metal, handed over in trade the way money is) sent into the depths of darkness (sent far inland into the dark country), and in return came a precious trickle of ivory (ivory is the hard white material of an elephant's long front teeth, greatly valued in Europe; only a small slow flow of it comes back).

“I had to wait in the station for ten days—an eternity (a very long time indeed). I lived in a hut in the yard, but to be out of the chaos (the complete disorder) I would sometimes get into the accountant’s office. It was built of horizontal (lying flat, from side to side) planks (long flat boards of wood), and so badly put together that, as he bent (leaned) over his high desk, he was barred (crossed all over with stripes) from neck to heels with narrow strips of sunlight. There was no need to open the big shutter (a wooden cover that closes over a window) to see. It was hot there, too; big flies buzzed (made a low humming noise) fiendishly (like something evil), and did not sting (push in sharply and leave pain), but stabbed (drove a sharp point into the skin). I sat generally on the floor, while, of faultless (with nothing wrong anywhere) appearance (and even slightly scented (with perfume on him)), perching (sitting up on it like a bird) on a high stool (a seat with no back), he wrote, he wrote. Sometimes he stood up for exercise. When a truckle-bed (a low bed on small wheels that slides away under another) with a sick man (some invalid (made weak by illness) agent from upcountry (inland, away from the coast)) was put in there, he exhibited (showed) a gentle annoyance. ‘The groans (low sounds of pain) of this sick person,’ he said, ‘distract (pull away) my attention. And without that it is extremely difficult to guard against clerical errors (mistakes in copying figures into the account books) in this climate.’

“One day he remarked, without lifting his head, ‘In the interior (the inland part of the country, not the inside of a room) you will no doubt meet Mr. Kurtz (a man who works for the Company far inland).’ On my asking (when I asked) who Mr. Kurtz was, he said he was a first-class agent (one of the Company's most senior men out here, buying ivory for them); and seeing my disappointment at this information, he added slowly, laying down his pen, ‘He is a very remarkable person.’ Further questions elicited (got him to say) from him that Mr. Kurtz was at present in charge of (running, in command of) a trading-post (a station set up far inland to buy and sell), a very important one, in the true ivory-country (the region where the ivory really comes from), at ‘the very bottom of there (right at the far inland end of that country). Sends in as much ivory as all the others put together (added up as one total)...’ He began to write again. The sick man was too ill to groan (make a low sound of pain). The flies buzzed (made a low humming noise) in a great peace (in a deep quiet, with no other sound).

“Suddenly there was a growing murmur (a low steady sound of voices) of voices and a great tramping (heavy walking) of feet. A caravan (a line of people travelling together on foot with loads, not a vehicle) had come in. A violent babble (a confused rush of voices) of uncouth (rough and strange to the ear) sounds burst out on the other side of the planks (long flat boards of wood). All the carriers (the men hired to carry the loads on their heads) were speaking together, and in the midst (the middle) of the uproar (a loud confused noise) the lamentable (full of complaint and misery) voice of the chief agent was heard ‘giving it up (saying he could do no more)’ tearfully (close to crying) for the twentieth (number twenty in order) time that day.... He rose slowly. ‘What a frightful (terrible) row (a loud noise and quarrelling; the word rhymes with 'cow' here),’ he said. He crossed the room gently (softly and slowly) to look at the sick man, and returning, said to me, ‘He does not hear.’ ‘What! Dead?’ I asked, startled (suddenly surprised). ‘No, not yet,’ he answered, with great composure (complete calm). Then, alluding (pointing at it without naming it) with a toss of the head to the tumult (the loud confused noise) in the station-yard, ‘When one has got to make correct entries (rightly written lines in the account books), one comes to hate those savages (the word Europeans of the time used for the peoples they had conquered)—hate them to the death.’ He remained thoughtful (deep in thought) for a moment. ‘When you see Mr. Kurtz’ he went on (kept speaking), ‘tell him from me (give him this message from me) that everything here’—he glanced at the deck (he glances at the desk in front of him -- the book prints a ship's word here by mistake)—‘is very satisfactory (in good order, just as it should be). I don’t like to write to him—with those messengers (men sent to carry letters) of ours you never know who may get hold of (end up with it and read it) your letter—at that Central Station (the Company's post halfway up the river route).’ He stared at me for a moment with his mild, bulging (sticking out) eyes. ‘Oh, he will go far (become important, get a big position), very far,’ he began again. ‘He will be a somebody (an important man) in the Administration (the group of men who run this place for the Company) before long (soon). They, above—the Council in Europe (the small group of men who run the whole Company from Europe), you know—mean him to be (want him to become one).’

“He turned to his work. The noise outside had ceased (stopped), and presently (soon after, not 'at present') in going out I stopped at the door. In the steady buzz (a low humming noise) of flies the homeward-bound (on his way back home) agent was lying finished (near death, with no strength left in him) and insensible (unconscious and aware of nothing, not 'foolish'); the other, bent (leaned) over his books, was making correct entries of perfectly correct transactions; and fifty feet below the doorstep (the step outside a door) I could see the still (with nothing moving in them) tree-tops of the grove of death (the group of trees where the dying men had crawled away to).

“Next day I left that station at last, with a caravan (a line of people travelling together on foot with loads, not a vehicle) of sixty men, for a two-hundred-mile tramp (a walk on foot of about three hundred kilometres).

“No use telling you much about that. Paths, paths, everywhere; a stamped-in network of paths (paths beaten flat into the ground, crossing each other everywhere) spreading over the empty land, through the long grass, through burnt (made black by fire) grass, through thickets (places where bushes grow close together), down and up chilly (unpleasantly cold) ravines (narrow deep cuts in the ground), up and down stony (covered with loose rock) hills ablaze with heat (burning hot); and a solitude (a place with nobody at all in it), a solitude, nobody, not a hut. The population had cleared out (gone away for good) a long time ago. Well, (now just imagine) if a lot of mysterious niggers (a violent insult for Black people, left standing because it is the word Conrad's narrator uses) armed with all kinds of fearful (frightening) weapons suddenly took to travelling (started travelling) on the road between Deal and Gravesend (two towns in England: he is asking his friends to picture this happening on an ordinary English road), catching the yokels (country people, spoken of as slow and simple) right and left (on every side) to carry heavy loads for them, I fancy (I suppose, not I like) every farm and cottage (a small country house) thereabouts (in that part of the country) would get empty very soon. Only (except that) here the dwellings (places where people live) were gone, too. Still (even so) I passed through several abandoned villages. There’s something pathetically (in a way that makes you feel sorry) childish (like something a small child made) in the ruins of grass walls. Day after day, with the stamp and shuffle (the sound of feet coming down hard and dragging along) of sixty pair of bare feet behind me, each pair under a 60-lb. (about twenty-seven kilograms) load. Camp, cook, sleep, strike camp (take the tents down and pack everything up), march. Now and then a carrier dead in harness (dead where he stood, still at his work), at rest in the long grass near the path, with an empty water-gourd (a dried hollow fruit used to carry water) and his long staff (a long walking stick) lying by his side. A great silence around and above. Perhaps on some quiet night the tremor (a faint shaking sound) of far-off drums, sinking, swelling, a tremor vast (very wide and large), faint; a sound weird, appealing (calling out for something, not 'pleasing'), suggestive (seeming to point at something more), and wild—and perhaps with as profound (deep) a meaning as the sound of bells in a Christian country. Once a white man in an unbuttoned (hanging open, not fastened) uniform (the official clothes he wears for his job), camping on the path with an armed escort of lank (long, thin and limp) Zanzibaris (men from Zanzibar, an island off the east coast of Africa, often hired as soldiers), very hospitable (welcoming to a stranger) and festive (in a party mood)—not to say (or rather) drunk. Was looking after (he said he was the one taking care of) the upkeep (the work of keeping the road in good repair) of the road, he declared. Can’t say I saw any road or any upkeep, unless the body of a middle-aged negro (the polite word of that time for a Black man), with a bullet-hole in the forehead, upon which I absolutely stumbled (which I actually tripped over) three miles farther on, may be considered as a permanent improvement (he says it bitterly: the only lasting thing anyone had done to that road was leave a dead body on it). I had a white companion, too, not a bad chap (man, fellow), but rather too fleshy (heavy with fat) and with the exasperating (enough to make you lose your temper) habit of fainting on the hot hillsides (the sloping sides of hills), miles away from the least bit of shade and water. Annoying, you know, to hold your own coat like a parasol (a light umbrella carried to keep the sun off) over a man’s head while he is coming to (waking up again). I couldn’t help asking (could not stop myself from asking) him once what he meant by coming there at all. ‘To make money, of course. What do you think?’ he said, scornfully (as if the question were a stupid one). Then he got fever, and had to be carried in a hammock (a hanging bed of cloth, tied up between two supports) slung (hung by a strap or a rope) under a pole. As he weighed sixteen stone (about twice the weight of a thin man: very heavy to carry) I had no end of rows (a great many quarrels) with the carriers. They jibbed (refused to go on), ran away, sneaked off (crept away without being seen) with their loads in the night—quite a mutiny (a refusal by men under orders to obey). So, one evening, I made a speech in English with gestures, not one of which was lost (every single one of them was seen) to the sixty pairs of eyes before me, and the next morning I started the hammock off in front (sent the hanging bed ahead at the front of the line) all right. An hour afterwards I came upon (found, without expecting it) the whole concern (the whole business of it, not a worry) wrecked (smashed and ruined) in a bush—man, hammock, groans (low sounds of pain), blankets, horrors. The heavy pole had skinned (torn the skin off) his poor nose. He was very anxious (keen, not worried) for me to kill somebody, but there wasn’t the shadow of a carrier (not even a trace of one of the carriers) near. I remembered the old doctor—‘It would be interesting for science to watch the mental changes of individuals, on the spot (right there, in the place itself).’ I felt I was becoming scientifically (as a man of science would see it) interesting. However, all that is to no purpose (none of that matters here). On the fifteenth (number fifteen in order) day I came in sight of the big river again, and hobbled (walked with difficulty) into the Central Station (the Company's post halfway up the river route). It was on a back water (a still side-arm of the river, out of the main flow) surrounded by scrub (low rough bushes) and forest, with a pretty border of smelly (with a bad smell) mud on one side, and on the three others enclosed by a crazy (badly made and falling apart, not mad) fence of rushes (tall stiff grasses that grow in wet ground). A neglected (left to fall into ruin with nobody caring) gap was all the gate it had (the only gate was a hole in the fence), and the first glance at the place was enough to let you see the flabby (soft and loose, with nothing firm in it) devil (an evil creature) was running that show (was in charge of the place). White men with long staves (long sticks) in their hands appeared languidly (slowly and with no energy) from amongst (among) the buildings, strolling (walking slowly and easily) up to take a look at me, and then retired out of sight (went away where they could not be seen; nothing to do with stopping work) somewhere. One of them, a stout (thick and heavy in body, not brave), excitable (who loses his calm at the smallest thing) chap (man, fellow) with black moustaches (hair grown on the upper lip), informed me with great volubility (a rush of words) and many digressions (wanderings away from the point), as soon as I told him who I was, that my steamer (a ship driven by a steam engine) was at the bottom of the river. I was thunderstruck (too shocked to move). What, how, why? Oh, it was ‘all right.’ (these are the other man's own words, repeated back by Marlow with scorn) The ‘manager himself’ was there. All quite correct. ‘Everybody had behaved splendidly (extremely well)! splendidly!’—‘you must,’ he said in agitation (a state of nervous excitement), ‘go and see the general manager at once. He is waiting!’

“I did not see the real significance (the real meaning of it) of that wreck (the ruined boat) at once (straight away). I fancy (I think, not I like) I see it now, but I am not sure—not at all. Certainly the affair (the whole thing that had happened) was too stupid—when I think of it—to be altogether natural (something that had simply happened by itself). Still (even so)... But at the moment it presented itself (at the time it just seemed to be) simply as a confounded (an old mild swear word, about as strong as 'damn') nuisance (something annoying that blocks you). The steamer (a ship driven by a steam engine) was sunk (gone to the bottom). They had started two days before in a sudden hurry up the river with the manager on board, in charge of (under the care of, not commanding) some volunteer (a man who offered to do it without being asked) skipper (the captain of a small boat), and before they had been out three hours they tore the bottom out of her (ripped a hole right through the underside of the boat) on stones, and she sank near the south bank. I asked myself what I was to do there, now my boat was lost (now that my boat was lost). As a matter of fact, I had plenty to do in fishing my command out of the river (pulling the boat I was to command back up out of the water). I had to set about it (begin work on it) the very next day. That, and the repairs when I brought the pieces to the station, took some months.

“My first interview with the manager was curious (strange, not 'wanting to know'). He did not ask me to sit down after my twenty-mile walk that morning. He was commonplace (ordinary, nothing special) in complexion (the colour of the skin of the face), in features, in manners, and in voice. He was of middle size and of ordinary build. His eyes, of the usual blue, were perhaps remarkably (unusually) cold, and he certainly could make his glance fall on one (could turn his look on you) as trenchant (cutting sharply) and heavy as an axe (a heavy blade on a handle, for cutting wood). But even at these times the rest of his person seemed to disclaim (deny any part in) the intention. Otherwise there was only (nothing more than) an indefinable (impossible to put into words), faint expression of his lips, something stealthy (quiet and secret)—a smile—not a smile—I remember it, but I can’t explain. It was unconscious (done without his knowing it, not knocked out), this smile was, though just after he had said something it got intensified (grew stronger) for an instant. It came at the end of his speeches like a seal applied on the words (like hot wax pressed onto a letter to close it) to make the meaning of the commonest phrase appear absolutely inscrutable (impossible to read or understand). He was a common (ordinary, not 'shared by everyone') trader (a man who buys and sells), from his youth up (ever since he was young) employed (given paid work) in these parts (in this part of the world)—nothing more. He was obeyed (people did what he told them), yet he inspired (made people feel, not filled with good ideas) neither (not the one and not the other) love nor fear, nor even respect. He inspired (made people feel, not filled with good ideas) uneasiness (a feeling that something is wrong). That was it! Uneasiness. Not a definite mistrust (a feeling that a man is not to be believed)—just uneasiness—nothing more. You have no idea how effective such a... a... faculty (a power a man has in him, not part of a university) can be. He had no genius (a rare natural gift) for organizing (putting things in working order), for initiative (the will to start something himself), or for order even. That was evident in such things as the deplorable (very bad indeed) state of the station. He had no learning (knowledge got from books, not the act of studying), and no intelligence. His position had come to him—why? Perhaps because he was never ill... He had served three terms (stretches of time served out there, not conditions in an agreement) of three years out there... Because triumphant (full of the joy of having won) health in the general rout of constitutions (everyone else's health breaking down all around him) is a kind of power in itself. When he went home on leave (on his paid time away from the job) he rioted on a large scale (spent wildly on drink and pleasure)—pompously (in a self-important way). Jack ashore (a sailor on land spending everything he has)—with a difference (but not quite the same thing)—in externals (the things that show on the outside) only. This one could gather from his casual talk (you could work this out from the way he talked). He originated (no idea was ever his own) nothing, he could keep the routine going—that’s all. But he was great. He was great by this little thing (what made him great was just this small thing) that it was impossible to tell (know) what could control such a man. He never gave that secret away (never let anyone find it out). Perhaps there was nothing within him. Such a suspicion made one pause—for out there there were no (because out there there were no) external checks (things outside a man that hold him back). Once when various tropical diseases had laid low (knocked down and left helpless) almost every ‘agent’ in the station, he was heard to say, ‘Men who come out here should have no entrails (the insides of the body, the guts).’ He sealed (closed it off, the way hot wax closes a letter) the utterance (the thing he had just said) with that smile of his, as though it had been a door opening into a darkness he had in his keeping. You fancied you had seen things (you thought you had caught a glimpse of what was inside him)—but the seal was on (the thing had closed over again and you could not see inside). When annoyed at meal-times by the constant (never stopping) quarrels (angry arguments) of the white men about precedence (the right to go or sit first), he ordered an immense (huge) round table to be made, for which a special house had to be built. This was the station’s mess-room (the room where a group of men eat together). Where he sat was the first place—the rest were nowhere (everyone else counted for nothing). One felt this to be his unalterable (that could never be changed) conviction (a belief he held firmly, not a court sentence). He was neither (not the one and not the other) civil (polite, not to do with citizens) nor uncivil (rude). He was quiet. He allowed his ‘boy’ (the word white men used for an African servant, whatever his age)—an overfed (given more food than he needs) young negro (the polite word of that time for a Black person) from the coast—to treat the white men, under his very eyes (right in front of him, while he watched), with provoking (enough to make a man angry) insolence (behaving rudely on purpose to annoy).

“He began to speak as soon as he saw me. I had been very long on the road. (these are the manager's own words, repeated by Marlow rather than quoted) He could not wait. Had to start without me. The up-river stations had to be relieved (supplied with fresh men and stores, not made to feel better). There had been so many delays already that he did not know who was dead and who was alive, and how they got on (how they were managing)—and so on, and so on. He paid no attention to my explanations, and, playing with a stick of sealing-wax (a hard red stick melted to close a letter), repeated several times that the situation was ‘very grave, very grave (very serious; nothing to do with a burial place).’ There were rumours that a very important station was in jeopardy (in danger), and its chief, Mr. Kurtz, was ill. Hoped it was not true. Mr. Kurtz was... I felt weary (tired out) and irritable (quick to get angry). Hang Kurtz ('Hang -- ' was a mild curse of the day, roughly 'to hell with him'), I thought. I interrupted him by saying I had heard of Mr. Kurtz on the coast. ‘Ah! So they talk of him down there,’ he murmured (spoke low and unclearly) to himself. Then he began again, assuring (telling me firmly) me Mr. Kurtz was the best agent he had, an exceptional (far above the ordinary) man, of the greatest importance to the Company; therefore I could understand his anxiety. He was, he said, ‘very, very uneasy (uncomfortable, as if something is wrong).’ Certainly he fidgeted (moved about restlessly) on his chair a good deal (a lot), exclaimed (said suddenly and loudly), ‘Ah, Mr. Kurtz!’ broke the stick of sealing-wax (a hard stick of wax, melted to close a letter) and seemed dumfounded (so shocked he could not speak) by the accident. Next thing he wanted to know ‘how long it would take to’... I interrupted him again. Being hungry, you know, and kept on my feet (left standing the whole time) too. I was getting savage (I was getting very angry). ‘How can I tell (know)?’ I said. ‘I haven’t even seen the wreck (the ruined boat) yet—some months, no doubt.’ All this talk seemed to me so futile (useless, leading nowhere). ‘Some months,’ he said. ‘Well, (a pause word before he names a time) let us say three months before we can make a start. Yes. That ought to do the affair (the job of raising and mending the boat -- the manager's own soft, empty word for it).’ I flung out of (rushed angrily out of) his hut (he lived all alone in a clay hut with a sort of verandah (a roofed open porch running along the outside of a house)) muttering (speaking low and unclearly) to myself my opinion of him. He was a chattering (talking on and on about nothing) idiot (a stupid person). Afterwards I took it back (admitted I had been wrong to say it) when it was borne in upon me (slowly forced on my mind) startlingly (in a way that took me by surprise) with what extreme nicety (how exactly right it was -- the word here means fine accuracy, not kindness) he had estimated the time requisite (needed) for the ‘affair.’

“I went to work the next day, turning, so to speak (not really, but that is how it felt), my back on that station. In that way only (and in no other way) it seemed to me I could keep my hold on (stay in touch with) the redeeming (the good things in life that balance the bad) facts of life (the plain ordinary realities of living). Still (even so), one must look about (look around you) sometimes; and then I saw this station, these men strolling (walking slowly and easily) aimlessly (with no purpose) about in the sunshine of the yard. I asked myself sometimes what it all meant. They wandered here and there with their absurd (plainly ridiculous) long staves (long sticks) in their hands, like a lot of faithless pilgrims (Marlow's mocking name for the agents: they carry long sticks like men on a holy journey, but believe in nothing except ivory) bewitched (held as if under a spell) inside a rotten fence. The word ‘ivory’ rang in the air (was heard again and again everywhere), was whispered, was sighed. You would think they were praying to it. A taint (a trace of something gone rotten) of imbecile (stupid) rapacity (greed to seize everything) blew through it all (was in the air everywhere), like a whiff (a short smell of something) from some corpse (a dead body). By Jove! (an old cry of surprise, roughly 'unbelievable') I’ve never seen anything so unreal (not seeming real) in my life. And outside, the silent wilderness (empty country where nobody lives and nothing is farmed) surrounding this cleared speck (a tiny spot) on the earth struck me as (seemed to me) something great and invincible (impossible to beat), like evil (something deeply bad) or truth, waiting patiently (calmly, without complaining) for the passing away of (the ending and disappearance of) this fantastic (unreal, like something out of a dream, not 'wonderful') invasion.

“Oh, these months! Well, never mind. Various things happened. One evening a grass shed (a small rough building, here one built of dried grass) full of calico, cotton prints (cheap cotton cloth, plain and patterned, made in European factories for trade), beads (small coloured balls with holes through them, handed over in trade), and I don’t know what else, burst into a blaze (caught fire suddenly and completely) so suddenly that you would have thought the earth had opened to let an avenging (coming to punish) fire consume (burn up completely, not eat or buy) all that trash (worthless stuff). I was smoking my pipe quietly by my dismantled (taken to pieces) steamer (a ship driven by a steam engine), and saw them all cutting capers (jumping about wildly) in the light, with their arms lifted high, when the stout (thick and heavy in body, not brave) man with moustaches (hair grown on the upper lip) came tearing down (ran at full speed) to the river, a tin pail (a metal bucket) in his hand, assured (told me firmly) me that everybody was ‘behaving splendidly (extremely well), splendidly,’ dipped (put it in and took it out again) about a quart (about what a large bottle holds: nothing at all against a fire) of water and tore back again. I noticed there was a hole in the bottom of his pail.

“I strolled (walked slowly and easily) up. There was no hurry. You see the thing had gone off (caught fire and burned itself out) like a box of matches. It had been hopeless from the very first (from the very beginning). The flame (the burning fire) had leaped high, driven everybody back, lighted up everything—and collapsed. The shed (a small rough building, not to drop something) was already a heap (a loose pile) of embers (the small red-hot pieces left when a fire dies down) glowing (shining with a steady warm light) fiercely (very strongly). A nigger (a violent insult for a Black person, left standing because it is the word Conrad's narrator uses) was being beaten (hit again and again) near by. They said he had caused the fire in some way; be that as it may (whether that is true or not), he was screeching (crying out high and harsh) most horribly (terribly). I saw him, later, for several days, sitting in a bit of shade looking very sick and trying to recover himself (get his strength back); afterwards he arose (got up) and went out—and the wilderness (empty country where nobody lives and nothing is farmed) without a sound took him into its bosom (closed round him and took him back in) again. As I approached the glow (a soft steady light) from the dark I found myself at the back of two men, talking. I heard the name of Kurtz pronounced, then the words, ‘take advantage of this unfortunate accident.’ One of the men was the manager. I wished him a good evening. ‘Did you ever see anything like it—eh? it is incredible,’ he said, and walked off. The other man remained. He was a first-class agent (an agent of the Company's highest grade), young, gentlemanly (with the manners of a well-born man), a bit reserved (quiet, not saying much about himself), with a forked (splitting into two points) little beard and a hooked (bent in a curve at the end) nose. He was stand-offish (keeping himself apart from other people) with the other agents, and they on their side (and they in return) said he was the manager’s spy upon them. As to me, I had hardly ever spoken to him before. We got into talk (started talking to each other), and by and by (after a while) we strolled away from the hissing (making a long ssss sound) ruins. Then he asked me to his room, which was in the main building of the station. He struck a match, and I perceived (saw) that this young aristocrat (a man born into the ruling families of Europe, above other men by birth) had not only (not just) a silver-mounted dressing-case (a travelling box for brushes and razors, fitted with silver) but also a whole candle all to himself. Just at that time the manager was the only man supposed to have any right to candles. Native mats (flat grass covers laid on floors or hung on walls) covered the clay walls; a collection of spears (long poles with sharp points), assegais (light throwing spears used in southern Africa), shields (boards held on the arm to stop blows), knives was hung up (fixed on the wall) in trophies (arranged on the wall in a fan, the way winners show off what they took). The business intrusted (an old spelling; it means the job was put in his hands) to this fellow was the making of bricks—so I had been informed; but there wasn’t a fragment of a brick anywhere in the station, and he had been there more than a year—waiting. It seems he could not make bricks without something, I don’t know what—straw maybe. Anyway, it could not be found there and as it was not likely to be sent from Europe, it did not appear clear to me what he was waiting for. An act of special creation (he jokes that only God, making something out of nothing, could produce bricks in that place) perhaps. However, they were all waiting—all the sixteen or twenty pilgrims (Marlow's mocking name for the agents with their long sticks) of them—for something; and upon my word (I promise you) it did not seem an uncongenial (not suiting them at all) occupation, from the way they took it, though the only thing that ever came to them was disease—as far as I could see. They beguiled the time (passed the time) by back-biting (saying nasty things about a man behind his back) and intriguing (plotting secretly, not 'interesting') against each other in a foolish kind of way. There was an air of plotting (making secret plans) about that station, but nothing came of it (nothing ever resulted from it), of course. It was as unreal (not seeming real) as everything else—as the philanthropic (meant to do good to people) pretence (a false show) of the whole concern (a business, not a worry), as their talk, as their government, as their show of work. The only real feeling was a desire to get appointed to a trading-post where ivory was to be had (where ivory could be got), so that they could earn percentages (a share of the value of what they traded, paid to them on top of wages). They intrigued (plotted secretly, not 'made curious') and slandered (told lies to damage a man's name) and hated each other only on that account (for that reason, over the money and nothing else)—but as to effectually (so as actually to have an effect) lifting a little finger (making the smallest effort)—oh, no. By heavens! (a cry of surprise) there is something after all in the world allowing one man to steal a horse while another must not look at a halter (an old saying: one man gets away with a great theft while another is suspected for merely standing near the rope). Steal a horse straight out (openly, in front of everyone). Very well (all right, fine). He has done it. Perhaps he can ride. But there is a way of looking at a halter that would provoke (make angry enough to act) the most charitable (ready to think well of everyone) of saints into a kick.

“I had no idea why he wanted to be sociable (friendly and wanting company), but as we chatted in there it suddenly occurred to me the fellow was trying to get at something (reach something he would not ask for directly)—in fact, pumping me (working information out of me bit by bit). He alluded (kept mentioning) constantly to Europe, to the people I was supposed to know (he was sure I knew) there—putting leading questions (asking questions shaped so that the answer he wanted would come) as to my acquaintances (about the people I knew slightly) in the sepulchral city (the big European city Marlow set out from, which felt to him like a place of graves), and so on. His little eyes glittered (shone in sharp broken points) like mica discs (thin shiny flakes of a stone that splits into sheets)—with curiosity—though he tried to keep up a bit of superciliousness (an air of looking down on people). At first I was astonished (greatly surprised), but very soon I became awfully (very, extremely) curious (eager to know) to see what he would find out from me. I couldn’t possibly imagine what I had in me (what I might have that he wanted) to make it worth his while (worth the trouble he was taking). It was very pretty to see (a fine, amusing thing to watch) how he baffled himself (he got nowhere, and it was his own questions that stopped him), for in truth my body was full only (nothing but) of chills (cold shaking brought on by fever), and my head had nothing in it but that wretched (cursed and hateful -- he says it because the business is driving him mad) steamboat (a boat driven by a steam engine that burns wood or coal) business. It was evident he took me for (believed me to be) a perfectly shameless (with no shame at all) prevaricator (a man who twists the truth). At last he got angry, and, to conceal (hide) a movement of furious (wildly angry) annoyance, he yawned (opened his mouth wide, the way a tired man does). I rose. Then I noticed a small sketch in oils (a small painting done in oil paint), on a panel (on a flat piece of board rather than on cloth), representing a woman, draped (with loose cloth hanging about her) and blindfolded (with a cloth tied over the eyes), carrying a lighted torch (a burning stick carried to give light). The background was sombre (dark and heavy-looking)—almost black. The movement of the woman was stately (slow and grand), and the effect of the torchlight (the light of a burning stick) on the face was sinister (threatening something evil).

“It arrested me (it stopped me where I stood; nothing to do with police), and he stood by (waited beside me) civilly (politely), holding an empty half-pint (a small bottle, about what one mug holds) champagne bottle (medical comforts (alcohol taken along on a journey and counted as medicine)) with the candle stuck in it. To my question he said Mr. Kurtz had painted this—in this very station (this exact station) more than a year ago—while waiting for means (the money and equipment to do it, not a method) to go to his trading post. ‘Tell me, pray (please say),’ said I, ‘who is this Mr. Kurtz?’

“‘The chief of the Inner Station (the Company's post farthest up the river),’ he answered in a short tone (in a sharp, unfriendly voice), looking away. ‘Much obliged (thank you),’ I said, laughing. ‘And you are the brickmaker (the man whose job is making bricks) of the Central Station (the Company's post halfway up the river route). Every one knows that.’ He was silent for a while. ‘He is a prodigy (a man with amazing powers of mind),’ he said at last. ‘He is an emissary (a man sent out to carry something to others) of pity and science and progress, and devil knows what else (and nobody can say what besides). We want (we need),’ he began to declaim (speak out loudly as if on a stage) suddenly, ‘for the guidance of the cause intrusted (an old spelling of 'entrusted': the work Europe has given them to look after) to us by Europe, so to speak (as it might be called), higher intelligence, wide sympathies (the power to feel for all kinds of people), a singleness of purpose (wanting one thing only, and never changing to something else).’ ‘Who says that?’ I asked. ‘Lots of them,’ he replied. ‘Some even write that; and so he comes here, a special being, as you ought to know.’ ‘Why ought I to know?’ I interrupted, really surprised. He paid no attention. ‘Yes. Today he is chief of the best station, next year he will be assistant-manager, two years more and... but I dare-say (I expect) you know what he will be in two years’ time. You are of the new gang—the gang of virtue (the young man's sour name for the men he thinks were sent out to clean the Company up). The same people who sent him specially also recommended you. Oh, don’t say no. I’ve my own eyes to trust (I can trust what I have seen with my own eyes).’ Light dawned upon me (I suddenly understood). My dear aunt’s influential (having power over what other people decide) acquaintances (people she knew) were producing an unexpected effect upon that young man. I nearly burst into a laugh. ‘Do you read the Company’s confidential correspondence (the Company's secret letters)?’ I asked. He hadn’t a word to say. It was great fun. ‘When Mr. Kurtz,’ I continued, severely, ‘is General Manager, you won’t have the opportunity.’

“He blew the candle out suddenly, and we went outside. The moon had risen (come up into the sky). Black figures strolled (walked slowly and easily) about listlessly (with no interest and no energy), pouring water on the glow (a soft steady light), whence proceeded (from which came) a sound of hissing (making a long ssss sound); steam ascended (rose up) in the moonlight (the light of the moon), the beaten (hit again and again) nigger (a violent insult for a Black person, left standing because it is the word Conrad's narrator uses) groaned (made a low sound of pain) somewhere. ‘What a row (what a loud noise) the brute (an animal; here it is said of a man) makes!’ said the indefatigable (never getting tired) man with the moustaches (hair grown on the upper lip), appearing near us. ‘Serve him right (he deserved it). Transgression (the breaking of a rule -- he is chanting it as a slogan of law and punishment)—punishment—bang! Pitiless (feeling nothing for people who suffer), pitiless. That’s the only way (the single way that works). This will prevent all conflagrations (great fires) for the future (from now on). I was just telling the manager...’ He noticed my companion, and became crestfallen (suddenly ashamed and unhappy) all at once. ‘Not in bed yet,’ he said, with a kind of servile (like a servant trying hard to please) heartiness (a loud warm manner); ‘it’s so natural. Ha! Danger—agitation (a state of nervous excitement).’ He vanished (gone, with no trace left). I went on to the riverside (the ground along the edge of the river), and the other followed me. I heard a scathing (very harsh and hurting) murmur (a low sound of words) at my ear, ‘Heap of muffs—go to (a pack of useless fools -- go away).’ The pilgrims (Marlow's mocking name for the agents with their long sticks) could be seen in knots (in small tight groups) gesticulating (waving their arms about as they talked), discussing. Several had still (even now) their staves (long sticks) in their hands. I verily (truly) believe they took these sticks to bed with them. Beyond the fence the forest stood up spectrally (like a ghost) in the moonlight, and through that dim (with very little light) stir (busy movement, not the mixing sense), through the faint sounds of that lamentable (full of complaint and misery) courtyard (an open space with buildings round it), the silence of the land went home to one’s very heart (was felt deep inside him)—its mystery, its greatness (how huge and grand it was), the amazing reality of its concealed (hidden) life. The hurt nigger moaned (made a long low sound of pain) feebly (weakly) somewhere near by, and then fetched a deep sigh (drew one long breath out) that made me mend my pace (walk faster) away from there. I felt a hand introducing itself under my arm (the man slid his arm through mine as we walked). ‘My dear sir (a very polite -- here too polite -- way of speaking to a man),’ said the fellow, ‘I don’t want to be misunderstood (taken to mean something I did not mean), and especially by you, who will see Mr. Kurtz long before I can have that pleasure. I wouldn’t like him to get a false idea of my disposition (my character, not an arrangement of things)....’

“I let him run on (let him keep talking), this papier-mache (paper mashed to a pulp and pressed into a shape: light and hollow) Mephistopheles (the devil in the old story of Faust, who buys a man's soul from him), and it seemed to me that if I tried I could poke my forefinger through him (he was so hollow that a finger would go straight through), and would find nothing inside but a little loose dirt, maybe. He, don’t you see, had been planning to be assistant-manager by and by (later on) under the present man, and I could see that the coming of that Kurtz had upset them both not a little (a great deal). He talked precipitately (very fast, tumbling one word onto the next), and I did not try to stop him. I had my shoulders against the wreck (the ruined boat) of my steamer (a ship driven by a steam engine), hauled up (dragged up out of the water) on the slope like a carcass (the dead body of an animal) of some big river animal. The smell of mud, of primeval (from the very first ages of the world) mud, by Jove (an old mild cry of surprise)! was in my nostrils (the two openings of the nose), the high stillness (complete quiet) of primeval forest was before my eyes; there were shiny patches (small areas of a different colour) on the black creek (a narrow arm of water running off the river). The moon had spread over everything a thin layer of silver—over the rank (grown thick and coarse, not a position or a smell) grass, over the mud, upon the wall of matted (tangled thickly together) vegetation (growing plants of every kind) standing higher than the wall of a temple, over the great river I could see through a sombre (dark and heavy-looking) gap glittering (shining in sharp broken points), glittering, as it flowed broadly (widely) by without a murmur (any low sound). All this was great, expectant (as if waiting for something), mute (silent), while the man jabbered (talked fast and without sense) about himself. I wondered whether the stillness on the face of (spread over the whole surface of) the immensity (something so large it has no edge) looking at us two were meant as an appeal (a call for help, not something pleasing) or as a menace (a threat). What were we who had strayed (wandered in by mistake) in here? Could we handle that dumb (unable to speak, not stupid) thing, or would it handle us? I felt how big, how confoundedly (a mild swear word; here it only means very) big, was that thing that couldn’t talk, and perhaps was deaf as well. What was in there? I could see a little ivory coming out from there, and I had heard Mr. Kurtz was in there. I had heard enough about it, too—God knows (believe me, I had)! Yet somehow it didn’t bring any image with it—no more than if I had been told an angel or a fiend (an evil spirit) was in there. I believed it in the same way one of you might believe there are inhabitants in the planet Mars (the planet next out from the sun after our own). I knew once a Scotch (from Scotland) sailmaker (the man who cuts and sews a ship's sails) who was certain, dead sure (absolutely certain), there were people in Mars. If you asked him for some idea how they looked and behaved, he would get shy and mutter (speak low and unclearly) something about ‘walking on all-fours (on his hands and knees).’ If you as much as (even) smiled, he would—though a man of sixty—offer to fight you. I would not have gone so far as to (would not actually have done it) fight for Kurtz, but I went for him near enough to a lie (I spoke up for him so warmly that it came very close to lying). You know I hate, detest (hate strongly), and can’t bear a lie, not because I am straighter than the rest of us (more honest than other people), but simply because it appalls (fills me with horror) me. There is a taint (a trace of something gone rotten) of death, a flavour of mortality (the fact that everything living must die) in lies—which is exactly what I hate and detest in the world—what I want to forget. It makes me miserable and sick, like biting something rotten would do. Temperament, I suppose. (just the way I am made, I suppose) Well, (a filler word here, roughly 'anyway') I went near enough to it by letting the young fool there believe anything he liked to imagine as to my influence in Europe. I became in an instant as much of a pretence (a false show) as the rest of the bewitched (held as if under a spell) pilgrims (the white traders at the station; Marlow calls them that as a joke, because they carry long sticks like men on a holy journey). This simply because I had a notion it somehow would be of help to that Kurtz whom at the time I did not see—you understand. He was just a word for me. I did not see the man in the name any more than you do. Do you see him? Do you see the story? Do you see anything? It seems to me I am trying to tell (put into words for you) you a dream—making a vain attempt (an attempt that cannot succeed, nothing to do with pride), because no relation of a dream (no telling of a dream; 'relation' here means an account, not a family member) can convey (carry across to someone else) the dream-sensation, that commingling (mixing together) of absurdity (how plainly silly it was), surprise, and bewilderment (being completely lost and confused) in a tremor (a faint shaking) of struggling revolt (a struggling against it inside yourself, not an uprising), that notion of being captured by the incredible which is of the very essence (the thing itself at its very centre) of dreams....”

He was silent for a while.

“... No, it is impossible; it is impossible to convey (carry across to someone else) the life-sensation of any given epoch (a stretch of time in a life) of one’s existence—that which makes its truth, its meaning—its subtle (fine and hard to catch) and penetrating (going right into you) essence (the thing itself at its very centre). It is impossible. We live, as we dream—alone....”

He paused again as if reflecting (thinking it over, not throwing back light), then added:

“Of course in this you fellows (men) see more than I could then. You see me, whom you know....”

It had become so pitch dark (completely black) that we listeners could hardly see one another ('we' is the men on the boat again: Marlow has stopped talking for a moment and the man who opened the book is speaking). For a long time already he, sitting apart, had been no more to us than a voice. There was not a word from anybody. The others might have been asleep, but I was awake. I listened, I listened on the watch for (waiting and listening for) the sentence, for the word, that would give me the clue (the one thing that would explain it) to the faint uneasiness (a feeling that something is wrong) inspired (caused by, not filled with good ideas) by this narrative that seemed to shape itself without human lips in the heavy night-air of the river.

“... Yes—I let him run on (let him keep talking),” Marlow began again, “and think what he pleased about the powers that were behind me (the important people he was supposed to have supporting him). I did! And there was nothing behind me! There was nothing but that wretched (miserable and poor), old, mangled (crushed and torn out of shape) steamboat (a boat driven by a steam engine) I was leaning against, while he talked fluently about ‘the necessity (the need) for every man to get on (do well and rise in the world).’ ‘And when one comes out here, you conceive (understand), it is not to gaze (look long and steadily) at the moon.’ Mr. Kurtz was a ‘universal (good at everything there is) genius (a person with rare natural gifts),’ but even a genius would find it easier to work with ‘adequate (good enough for the job) tools—intelligent men.’ He did not make bricks—why, (a filler word, like 'well,') there was a physical impossibility (a thing that cannot be done) in the way—as I was well aware; and if he did secretarial (belonging to a person who writes letters for an office) work for the manager, it was because ‘no sensible (having good sense, not 'able to feel') man rejects wantonly (for no good reason) the confidence of his superiors (the trust of the men above him).’ Did I see it? I saw it. What more did I want? What I really wanted was rivets (short metal pins hammered through two iron sheets to hold them together), by heaven (an old mild cry, roughly 'I swear it')! Rivets (short metal pins driven through holes in two iron sheets and hammered flat, so the sheets hold tight and water cannot pass). To get on with (make progress with) the work—to stop the hole (to fill the hole in the boat's bottom so the water cannot get in). Rivets (it was those pins I needed, nothing else) I wanted. There were cases (wooden boxes, not situations) of them down at the coast (at the landing place by the sea, far away)—cases—piled up—burst—split! You kicked a loose rivet (a short metal pin, made to be driven through two iron sheets and hammered flat) at every second step (on one step out of every two) in that station-yard (the open ground of the trading settlement, not a place where trains stop) on the hillside (the sloping ground the station stands on). Rivets (those same pins) had rolled into the grove of death (the shady place among the trees where the dying workers had crawled away). You could fill your pockets with rivets (the bolts, lying loose) for the trouble of stooping down (you only had to bend over to pick them up)—and there wasn’t one rivet to be found where it was wanted. We had plates (the flat sheets of iron that make a ship's outer skin) that would do (that were good enough), but nothing to fasten them with. And every week the messenger (a man sent to carry letters), a long negro (the polite word of that time for a Black man), letter-bag (the bag the post is carried in) on shoulder and staff (a long walking stick) in hand, left our station for the coast. And several times a week a coast caravan (a line of people travelling together on foot with loads, not a vehicle) came in with trade goods—ghastly (horrible to look at) glazed (with a hard shiny surface) calico (a plain cheap cotton cloth) that made you shudder (a short shaking) only (merely) to look at it, glass beads (small coloured balls with holes through them, handed over in trade) value about a penny a quart (almost nothing at all), confounded (a mild swear word; here it only shows dislike) spotted cotton handkerchiefs. And no rivets (none of the bolts). Three carriers could have brought all that was wanted to set that steamboat afloat (get the boat floating and working again).

“He was becoming confidential (opening up and telling private things, not marked secret) now, but I fancy (I think, not I like) my unresponsive (giving nothing back) attitude must have exasperated (driven to the edge of losing his temper) him at last, for he judged it necessary (because he judged it necessary) to inform me he feared neither (not the one and not the other) God nor devil (an evil creature), let alone (and certainly not) any mere man. I said I could see that very well, but what I wanted was a certain quantity of rivets (short metal pins hammered through two iron sheets to hold them together)—and rivets (the bolts) were what really Mr. Kurtz wanted, if he had only (just) known it. Now letters went to the coast every week.... ‘My dear sir (a polite old way of speaking to a man),’ he cried (called out loudly, not wept), ‘I write from dictation (I only write down what I am told to write).’ I demanded rivets (bolts, once more). There was a way—for an intelligent man. He changed his manner; became very cold, and suddenly began to talk about a hippopotamus (a huge heavy river animal of Africa); wondered whether sleeping on board the steamer (a ship driven by a steam engine) (I stuck to my salvage (the work of saving a wrecked boat out of the water) night and day) I wasn’t disturbed. There was an old hippo (the short name for that huge river animal) that had the bad habit of getting out on the bank and roaming (wandering about) at night over the station grounds. The pilgrims (Marlow's mocking name for the white traders at the station, who carry long sticks about like men on a holy journey) used to turn out in a body (come out all together) and empty every rifle (fire off every bullet in every gun) they could lay hands on (reach out and take) at him. Some even had sat up o’ nights (stayed awake through the night) for him. All this energy (all this effort) was wasted, though. ‘That animal has a charmed life (a life that nothing can harm),’ he said; ‘but you can say this only of brutes (animals) in this country. No man—you apprehend (understand, not arrest) me?—no man here bears a charmed life.’ He stood there for a moment in the moonlight (the light of the moon) with his delicate hooked (bent in a curve at the end) nose set a little askew (leaning crookedly), and his mica (a stone that splits into thin shiny sheets) eyes glittering (shining in sharp broken points) without a wink (a quick shut of one eye), then, with a curt (short and cold) Good-night, he strode off (walked away with long steps). I could see he was disturbed and considerably (very much) puzzled, which made me feel more hopeful than I had been for days. It was a great comfort to turn from that chap (man, fellow) to my influential (having power over what other people decide) friend, the battered (knocked about and dented), twisted (bent out of its right shape), ruined, tin-pot (cheap and worth nothing) steamboat (a boat driven by a steam engine that burns wood or coal). I clambered (climbed awkwardly) on board. She rang under my feet (the boat's iron floor gave a hollow metal sound as he walked on it) like an empty Huntley & Palmer biscuit-tin (a famous English biscuit maker whose metal tins were everywhere) kicked along a gutter (the channel along the edge of a road that carries rain away); she was nothing so solid in make (not nearly as strongly built), and rather less pretty in shape, but I had expended (spent) enough hard work on her to make me love her. No influential friend would have served me better. She had given me a chance to come out a bit (show a little of what I could do)—to find out what I could do. No, I don’t like work. I had rather (I would rather) laze about (pass the time doing nothing) and think of all the fine things that can be done. I don’t like work—no man does—but I like what is in the work—the chance to find yourself. Your own reality—for yourself, not for others—what no other man can ever know. They can only see the mere show (only the outside of it and nothing more), and never can tell (know) what it really means (shows, stands for).

“I was not surprised to see somebody sitting aft (at the back end of the boat), on the deck (the flat floor on top of a boat), with his legs dangling (hanging loose and swinging) over the mud. You see I rather chummed with (became friendly with) the few mechanics (men who work on machines, not the way a thing works) there were in that station, whom the other pilgrims (the white traders at the station; Marlow calls them that as a joke, because they carry long sticks like men on a holy journey) naturally despised (thought them low and worthless)—on account of (because of) their imperfect (not good enough) manners, I suppose. This was the foreman (the man put in charge of the other workers)—a boiler-maker (a man who builds the iron tanks that make steam) by trade (that was his trained job)—a good worker. He was a lank (long, thin and limp), bony (thin enough to show every joint), yellow-faced man, with big intense eyes. His aspect (the look on a face, not a part or a side of something) was worried, and his head was as bald as the palm of my hand; but his hair in falling seemed to have stuck to his chin, and had prospered (grown well) in the new locality (the place), for his beard (because his beard) hung (reached down) down to his waist (the narrow part of the body above the hips). He was a widower (a man whose wife has died) with six young children (he had left them in charge of (in the care of, not commanding) a sister of his to come out there), and the passion (a very strong liking) of his life was pigeon-flying (the hobby of keeping grey city birds and racing them home). He was an enthusiast and a connoisseur (a man who knows a great deal about one subject and can judge it well). He would rave about (talk on and on with great excitement) pigeons (grey city birds, kept and raced home by some men). After work hours he used sometimes to come over from his hut for a talk about his children and his pigeons (grey city birds, kept and raced home by some men); at work, when he had to crawl (move along on hands and knees) in the mud under the bottom of the steamboat (a boat driven by a steam engine that burns wood or coal), he would tie up that beard of his in a kind of white serviette (a table napkin; here he ties one round his beard) he brought for the purpose. It had loops (rings of cloth or string) to go over his ears. In the evening he could be seen squatted (sat low on his heels) on the bank rinsing (washing out in clean water) that wrapper (the cloth he tied round his beard) in the creek (a narrow arm of water running off the river) with great care, then spreading it solemnly (seriously, as if it mattered greatly) on a bush to dry.

“I slapped (hit with the flat of the hand) him on the back and shouted, ‘We shall have rivets (short metal pins hammered through two iron sheets to hold them together)!’ He scrambled to his feet (got up in a great hurry) exclaiming (calling out suddenly), ‘No! Rivets (the bolts)!’ as though he couldn’t believe his ears (as if he was too surprised to believe what he had heard). Then in a low voice, ‘You... eh?’ I don’t know why we behaved like lunatics (mad people). I put my finger to the side of my nose (a sign meaning 'keep it quiet, this is our secret') and nodded mysteriously (in a manner meant to look secret). ‘Good for you!’ he cried (called out loudly, not wept), snapped his fingers (made a sharp click with finger and thumb) above his head, lifting one foot. I tried a jig (a quick lively dance). We capered (jumped about) on the iron deck (the flat floor on top of a boat). A frightful (terrible) clatter (a loud rattling noise) came out of that hulk (the body of an old boat with nothing working left in it), and the virgin forest (forest never cut or cleared; the word here means untouched) on the other bank of the creek (a narrow arm of water running off the river) sent it back in a thundering roll upon the sleeping station. It must have made some of the pilgrims (the white traders at the station; Marlow calls them that as a joke, because they carry long sticks like men on a holy journey) sit up (jump upright in bed) in their hovels (small, poor, roughly built huts). A dark figure obscured (blocked from sight) the lighted doorway (the opening that a door fills) of the manager’s hut, vanished (gone, with no trace left), then, a second or so after, the doorway itself vanished, too. We stopped, and the silence driven away by the stamping (banging the feet down hard) of our feet flowed back again from the recesses (the far inner parts) of the land. The great wall of vegetation (growing plants of every kind), an exuberant (growing wildly and thickly) and entangled (twisted into one another) mass of trunks (the thick main stems of trees, not boxes), branches, leaves, boughs (large branches), festoons (loops of hanging plants), motionless in the moonlight (the light of the moon), was like a rioting (growing wild and out of all control) invasion of soundless (making no noise) life, a rolling wave of plants, piled up, crested (rising to a top like a wave), ready to topple over (fall forward and down) the creek, to sweep (carry away in one long movement) every little man of us out of his little existence. And it moved not. (and it did not move) A deadened (made dull and muffled) burst of mighty (very great and powerful) splashes and snorts (loud noisy breaths through the nose) reached us from afar (far off), as though an icthyosaurus (a huge sea animal of the ancient world, known now only from its bones) had been taking a bath of glitter (a sharp broken shine) in the great river. ‘After all,’ said the boiler-maker (the man whose trade is making and mending the big iron water tanks that drive a steam engine) in a reasonable tone, ‘why shouldn’t we get the rivets (short metal pins hammered through holes to hold two sheets of metal tightly together)?’ Why not, indeed! (the narrator agrees: there really was no reason they should not get them) I did not know of any reason why we shouldn’t. ‘They’ll come in three weeks,’ I said confidently (with no doubt in my voice).

“But they didn’t. Instead of rivets (short metal pins hammered through two iron sheets to hold them together) there came an invasion, an infliction (something painful forced on you), a visitation (a punishment sent down from above). It came in sections during the next three weeks, each section headed by a donkey (a small animal like a horse, with long ears) carrying a white man in new clothes and tan (light yellow-brown) shoes, bowing from that elevation (the height he was sitting at) right and left to the impressed (filled with admiration) pilgrims (the white traders at the station; Marlow calls them that as a joke, because they carry long sticks like men on a holy journey). A quarrelsome (always ready to argue) band of footsore (with feet sore from walking) sulky (silent and in a bad mood) niggers (a violent insult for Black people, left standing because it is the word Conrad's narrator uses) trod on the heels of (followed close behind) the donkey; a lot of tents, camp-stools (light folding seats for use outdoors), tin boxes, white cases (wooden boxes, not situations), brown bales (big bundles of goods tied tight) would be shot down (dumped down) in the courtyard (an open space with buildings round it), and the air of mystery would deepen (grow thicker) a little over the muddle (a state of disorder) of the station. Five such instalments (separate parts arriving one after another) came, with their absurd (plainly ridiculous) air of disorderly (with no order at all) flight (running away, not flying) with the loot (goods taken by force) of innumerable (too many to count) outfit (a full set of clothing and gear) shops and provision stores (shops selling food supplies), that, one would think, they were lugging (dragging along with effort), after a raid, into the wilderness (empty country where nobody lives and nothing is farmed) for equitable (fair to everyone) division (a sharing out). It was an inextricable (too tangled ever to be sorted out) mess of things decent (ordinary and respectable) in themselves but that human folly (stupid behaviour) made look like the spoils (goods taken away after a robbery) of thieving (stealing).

“This devoted band (this group given over to one purpose; nothing to do with love) called itself the Eldorado Exploring Expedition (Eldorado is the old legend of a city made of gold: the name says exactly what they were after), and I believe they were sworn to secrecy (made to promise to tell nobody). Their talk, however, was the talk of sordid (dirty and mean) buccaneers (sea robbers who attacked and robbed ships long ago): it was reckless (taking risks without care) without hardihood (toughness in the face of danger), greedy without audacity (bold daring), and cruel without courage; there was not an atom of (not the smallest trace of) foresight (thinking ahead) or of serious intention in the whole batch of them, and they did not seem aware these things are wanted (are needed) for the work of the world. To tear treasure out of the bowels of the land (the deep insides of the country) was their desire, with no more moral purpose at the back of it than there is in burglars breaking into a safe (a strong metal box for keeping money in, not the opposite of dangerous). Who paid the expenses of the noble (high and worthy) enterprise (a bold undertaking, not a business firm) I don’t know; but the uncle of our manager was leader of that lot (that group).

“In exterior (to look at from outside) he resembled a butcher in a poor neighbourhood, and his eyes had a look of sleepy cunning (clever at tricking people). He carried his fat paunch (a big belly) with ostentation (showing off) on his short legs, and during the time his gang (his band of men) infested (filled the place the way rats fill a house) the station spoke to no one but his nephew. You could see these two roaming (wandering about) about all day long with their heads close together in an everlasting (going on and on with no end) confab (a private talk).

“I had given up worrying myself about the rivets (short metal pins hammered through two iron sheets to hold them together). One’s capacity for that kind of folly (stupid behaviour) is more limited than you would suppose. I said Hang! (a curse, roughly 'to hell with it')—and let things slide (stopped trying to keep them in order). I had plenty of time for meditation (long quiet thinking), and now and then I would give some thought to Kurtz. I wasn’t very interested in him. No. Still (even so), I was curious (wanting to know) to see whether this man, who had come out equipped (who arrived carrying) with moral ideas of some sort, would climb to the top (rise to the highest place) after all and how he would set about his work (begin his work) when there.”