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Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad

Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad

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Heart of Darkness is a novella written by Joseph Conrad. Before its 1902 publication, it appeared as a three-part series (1899) in Blackwood's Magazine. It is widely regarded as a significant work of English literature and part of the Western canon. he story tells of Charles Marlow, an Englishman who took a foreign assignment from a Belgian trading company as a ferry-boat captain in Africa. Heart of Darkness exposes the dark side of European colonization while exploring the three levels of darkness that the protagonist, Marlow, encounters: the darkness of the Congo wilderness, the darkness of the Europeans' cruel treatment of the natives, and the unfathomable darkness within every human being for committing heinous acts of evil. Source: Wikipedia.org
Heart of Darkness is a novella written by Joseph Conrad. Before its 1902 publication, it appeared as a three-part series (1899) in Blackwood's Magazine. It is widely regarded as a significant work of English literature and part of the Western canon. he story tells of Charles Marlow, an Englishman who took a foreign assignment from a Belgian trading company as a ferry-boat captain in Africa. Heart of Darkness exposes the dark side of European colonization while exploring the three levels of darkness that the protagonist, Marlow, encounters: the darkness of the Congo wilderness, the darkness of the Europeans' cruel treatment of the natives, and the unfathomable darkness within every human being for committing heinous acts of evil. Source: Wikipedia.org

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Published by: Books on Apr 25, 2011
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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Heart of Darkness, by Joseph ConradThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and withalmost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away orre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License includedwith this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.orgTitle: Heart of DarknessAuthor: Joseph ConradRelease Date: January 9, 2006 [EBook #526]Language: EnglishCharacter set encoding: ASCII*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HEART OF DARKNESS ***Produced by Judith Boss and David Widger[Note: See also etext #219 which is a different version of this eBook]HEART OF DARKNESSBy Joseph ConradIThe Nellie, a cruising yawl, swung to her anchor without a flutter ofthe sails, and was at rest. The flood had made, the wind was nearlycalm, and being bound down the river, the only thing for it was to cometo and wait for the turn of the tide.The sea-reach of the Thames stretched before us like the beginning ofan interminable waterway. In the offing the sea and the sky were weldedtogether without a joint, and in the luminous space the tanned sailsof the barges drifting up with the tide seemed to stand still in redclusters of canvas sharply peaked, with gleams of varnished sprits. Ahaze rested on the low shores that ran out to sea in vanishing flatness.The air was dark above Gravesend, and farther back still seemedcondensed into a mournful gloom, brooding motionless over the biggest,and the greatest, town on earth.The Director of Companies was our captain and our host. We fouraffectionately watched his back as he stood in the bows looking to
 
seaward. On the whole river there was nothing that looked half sonautical. He resembled a pilot, which to a seaman is trustworthinesspersonified. It was difficult to realize his work was not out there inthe luminous estuary, but behind him, within the brooding gloom.Between us there was, as I have already said somewhere, the bond ofthe sea. Besides holding our hearts together through long periods ofseparation, it had the effect of making us tolerant of each other'syarns--and even convictions. The Lawyer--the best of old fellows--had,because of his many years and many virtues, the only cushion on deck,and was lying on the only rug. The Accountant had brought out already abox of dominoes, and was toying architecturally with the bones. Marlowsat cross-legged right aft, leaning against the mizzen-mast. He hadsunken cheeks, a yellow complexion, a straight back, an ascetic aspect,and, with his arms dropped, the palms of hands outwards, resembled anidol. The Director, satisfied the anchor had good hold, made his wayaft and sat down amongst us. We exchanged a few words lazily. Afterwardsthere was silence on board the yacht. For some reason or other we didnot begin that game of dominoes. We felt meditative, and fit for nothingbut placid staring. The day was ending in a serenity of still andexquisite brilliance. The water shone pacifically; the sky, without aspeck, was a benign immensity of unstained light; the very mist on theEssex marshes was like a gauzy and radiant fabric, hung from the woodedrises inland, and draping the low shores in diaphanous folds. Only thegloom to the west, brooding over the upper reaches, became more somberevery minute, as if angered by the approach of the sun.And at last, in its curved and imperceptible fall, the sun sank low, andfrom glowing white changed to a dull red without rays and without heat,as if about to go out suddenly, stricken to death by the touch of thatgloom brooding over a crowd of men.Forthwith a change came over the waters, and the serenity became lessbrilliant but more profound. The old river in its broad reach restedunruffled at the decline of day, after ages of good service done to therace that peopled its banks, spread out in the tranquil dignity of awaterway leading to the uttermost ends of the earth. We looked at thevenerable stream not in the vivid flush of a short day that comes anddeparts for ever, but in the august light of abiding memories. Andindeed nothing is easier for a man who has, as the phrase goes,"followed the sea" with reverence and affection, than to evoke thegreat spirit of the past upon the lower reaches of the Thames. The tidalcurrent runs to and fro in its unceasing service, crowded with memoriesof men and ships it had borne to the rest of home or to the battlesof the sea. It had known and served all the men of whom the nation isproud, from Sir Francis Drake to Sir John Franklin, knights all, titledand untitled--the great knights-errant of the sea. It had borne all theships whose names are like jewels flashing in the night of time, fromthe Golden Hind returning with her round flanks full of treasure, to bevisited by the Queen's Highness and thus pass out of the gigantic tale,to the Erebus and Terror, bound on other conquests--and that neverreturned. It had known the ships and the men. They had sailed fromDeptford, from Greenwich, from Erith--the adventurers and the settlers;kings' ships and the ships of men on 'Change; captains, admirals, thedark "interlopers" of the Eastern trade, and the commissioned "generals"of East India fleets. Hunters for gold or pursuers of fame, they allhad gone out on that stream, bearing the sword, and often the torch,

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Statistics proved a no more safe place to be than on a ferryboat. Ferry sinking is exceedingly rare. The loss of life from ferryboat mishaps, then and now, is less than one millionth of a percent.
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