The Nigger of the Narcissus: A Tale of the ForecastleA dying sailor boards the Narcissus and acts as a memento mori upon his shipmates, eliciting pity and selfless compassion as well as fear, resentment, and a profound hatred. The powerful narrative technique captures every nuance of atmospheric tension for a compelling study of men's characters under conditions of extreme danger and stress. |
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Common terms and phrases
ain't aloft amongst Archie arms asked Baker began Belfast bloomin boatswain breath bunk cabin Captain Allistoun chap Charley chest chief mate cold cook crawled Creighton cried crowd dark deck Donkin door dunnage eyes face feet fo'c'sle forecastle foresail forward galley gaze glance growled grunted hands hard head heard hearts heavy hissing hung James Wait Jimmy Jimmy's JOSEPH CONRAD Knowles leaped legs light lips looked loud master mate moved murmur muttered Narcissus never nigger night noise oilskin Ough overboard poop rolled rope round sail sailmaker seaman seemed seez shadows ship ship's shook shoulder shouted sick side sigh silence Singleton sleep smile spoke stared stir stood stream sudden suddenly sunshine swung thing thought tobacco smoke tone turned uncon voice Wamibo watch waves What's whispered wind windlass words yelled
Popular passages
Page vii - A WORK that aspires, however humbly, to the condition of art should carry its justification in every line. And art itself may be defined as a single-minded attempt to render the highest kind of justice to the visible universe, by bringing to light the truth, manifold and one, underlying its every aspect.
Page 35 - The passage had begun, and the ship, a fragment detached from the earth, went on lonely and swift like a small planet. Round her the abysses of sky and sea met in an unattainable frontier. A great circular solitude moved with her, ever changing and ever the same, always monotonous and always imposing.
Page ix - For, if there is any part of truth in the belief confessed above, it becomes evident that there is not a place of splendour or a dark corner of the earth that does not deserve, if only a passing glance of wonder and pity.
Page x - My task which I am trying to achieve is, by the power of the written word, to make you hear, to make you feel — it is, before all, to make you see...
Page 156 - When I saw him standing there, three parts dead and so scared — black amongst that gaping lot — no grit to face what's coming to us all — the notion came to me all at once, before I could think. Sorry for him — like you would be for a sick brute. If ever creature was in a mortal funk to die! ... I thought I would let him go out in his own way. Kind of impulse. It never came into my head, those fools. . . . H'm! Stand to it now — of course.
Page 215 - Haven't we, together and upon the immortal sea, wrung out a meaning from our sinful lives?
Page 202 - The dark land lay alone in the midst of waters, like a mighty ship bestarred with vigilant lights — a ship carrying the burden of millions of lives — a ship freighted with dross and with jewels, with gold and with steel. She towered up immense and strong, guarding priceless traditions and untold suffering, sheltering glorious memories and base forgetfulness, ignoble virtues and splendid transgressions. A great ship! For ages had the ocean battered in vain her enduring sides; she was there when...
Page 11 - The pet of philanthropists and self-seeking landlubbers. The sympathetic and deserving creature that knows all about his rights, but knows nothing of courage, of endurance, and of the unexpressed faith, of the unspoken loyalty that knits together a ship's company.
Page 192 - And the immortal sea stretched away, immense and hazy, like the image of life, with a glittering surface and lightless depths. Donkin gave it a defiant glance and slunk off noiselessly as if judged and cast out by the august silence of its might.
Page 1 - MR. BAKER, chief mate of the ship " Narcissus," stepped in one stride out of his lighted cabin into the darkness of the quarter-deck. Above his head, on the break of the poop, the night-watchman rang a double stroke. It was nine o'clock. Mr. Baker, speaking up to the man above him, asked : " Are all the hands aboard, Knowles ? " The man limped down the ladder, then said reflectively :