Джозеф Конрад - Suspense

The disagreeable sense of having no means of defence in case of necessity prevented Cosmo from leaving the shelter of the deep arch. Two men, the excitable and the morose, were within a foot of him. Remembering that the tower was accessible on its seaward face, Cosmo surmised that they had just landed from a boat and had crept round barefooted, secret and, no doubt, ready to use their knives. Smugglers probably. That they should ply their trade within three hundred yards of the guard–room with a sentry outside did not surprise him very much. These were Austrian soldiers, ignorant of local conditions, and certainly not concerned with the prevention of smuggling. Why didn’t these men go about their business then? The road was clear. But perhaps they had gone? It seemed to him he had been there glued to that door for an hour. As a matter of fact it was not ten minutes. Cosmo, who had no mind to be stabbed through a mere mistake as to his character, was just thinking of making a dash in the direction of the guard–house, when the morose but cautiously lowered voice began close to the arch abruptly: “Where did the beast get to? I thought a moment ago he was coming. Didn’t you think too that there were footsteps—just as we landed?”

Cosmo’s uplifted foot came down to the ground. Of the excitable whisperer’s long rigmarole not a word could be made out. Cosmo imagined him short and thick. The other, whom Cosmo pictured to himself as lean and tall, uttered the word “Why?” The excitable man hissed fiercely: “To say good–bye.”—“Devil take all these women,” commented the morose voice dispassionately. The whisper now raised to the pitch of a strangled wheeze remarked with some feeling: “He may never see her again.”

It was clear they had never even dreamt of any human being besides themselves having anything to do on this part of the shore at this hour of the night. “Won’t they be frightened when I rush out!” thought Cosmo, taking off his cloak and throwing it over his left forearm. If it came to an encounter, he could always drop it. But he did not seriously think that he would be reduced to using his fists.

He judged it prudent to leave the archway with a bound which would get him well clear of the tower, and on alighting faced about quickly. He heard an exclamation but he saw no one. They had bolted! He would have laughed had he not been startled himself by a shot fired somewhere in the distance behind his back—the most brutally impressive sound that can break the silence of the night. Instantly, as if it had been a signal, a lot of shouting broke on his ear, yells of warning and encouragement, a savage clamour, which made him think of a lot of people pursuing a mad dog. He advanced however in the direction of the portico, wishing himself out of the way of this odious commotion, when the flash of a musket–shot showed him for a moment the tilted head in a shako and the white cross–belts of an Austrian soldier standing erect in the middle of the open ground. Cosmo stopped short, then inclined to the left, moving cautiously and staring into the darkness. The yelling had died out gradually away from the seashore, where he remembered a cluster of the poorer sort of houses nestled under the cliffs. He could not believe that the shot could have been fired at him, till another flash and report of a musket, followed by the whizz of the bullet very near his head, persuaded him to the contrary. Thinking of nothing but getting out of the line of fire, he stooped low and ran on blindly till his shoulder came in contact with some obstacle extremely hard and perfectly immovable.

He put his hand on it, felt it rough and cold, and discovered it was a stone, an enormous square block, such as are used in building breakwaters. Several others were lying about in a cluster, like a miniature village on a miniature plain. He crept amongst them, spread his cloak on the ground, and sat down with his back against one of the blocks. He wondered at the marvellous eyesight of that confounded soldier. He was not aware that his dark figure had the starry sky for a background. “He nearly had me,” he thought. His whole being recoiled with disgust from the risk of getting a musket–ball through his body. He resolved to remain where he was till all that incomprehensible excitement had quietened down, and that brute with wonderful powers of vision had gone away. Then his road would be clear. He would give him plenty of time.

The stillness all around continued, becoming more convincing as the time passed, in its suggestion of everything being over, convincing enough to shame timidity itself. Why this reluctance to go back to his room? What was a room in an inn, in any house? A small portion of space fenced off with bricks or stones, in which innumerable individuals had been alone with their good and evil thoughts, temptations, fears, troubles of all sorts, and had gone out without leaving a trace. This train of thought led him to the reflection that no man could leave his troubles behind …never … never…. “It’s no use trying,” he thought with despair, “why should I go to Livorno? What would be the good of going home? Lengthening the distance would be like lengthening a chain. What use would it be to get out of sight? … If I were to be struck blind to–morrow it wouldn’t help me.” He forgot where he was till the convincing silence round him crumbled to pieces before a faint and distant shout, which recalled him to the sense of his position. Presently he heard more shouting, still distant, but much nearer. This took his mind from himself, and started his imagination on another track. The man–hunt was not over, then! The fellow had broken cover again and had been headed towards the tower. He depicted the hunted man to himself as long–legged, spare, agile, for no other reason than because he wished him to escape. He wondered whether the soldier with the sharp eyes would give him a shot. But no shot broke the silence which had succeeded the distant shouts. Got away perhaps? At least for a time. Very possibly he had stabbed somebody and … by heavens! here he was!

Cosmo had caught the faint sound of running feet on the hard ground. And even before he had decided that it was no illusion, it stopped short and a bulky object fell hurtling from the sky so near to him that Cosmo instinctively drew in his legs with a general start of his body, which caused him to knock his hat off against the stone. He became aware of a man’s back almost within reach of his arm. There could be no doubt he had taken a leap over the stone, and had landed squatting on his heels. Cosmo expected him to rebound and vanish, but he only extended his arm to seize the hat as it rolled past him, and at the same moment pivoted on his toes, preserving his squatting posture.

“If he happens to have a knife in his hand he will plunge it into me,” thought Cosmo. So without moving a limb he hastened to say in a loud whisper: “Run to the tower. Your friends are waiting for you.” It was a sudden inspiration. The man without rising flung himself forward full length and propped on his arms, and brought his face close to Cosmo. His white eyeballs seemed to be starting out of his head. In this position the silence between them lasted for several seconds.

“My friends, but who are you?” muttered the man. And then the recognition came, instantaneous and mutual. Cosmo simply said “Hallo!” while the man, letting himself fall to the ground, uttered in a voice faint with emotion, “My Englishman!”

“There were two of them,” said Cosmo.

“Two? Did they see you?”

Cosmo assured him that they had not. The other, still agitated by the unexpectedness of that meeting, asked, incredulous and even a little suspicious: “What am I to think, then? How could you know that they were my friends?”