"Heart of Darkness"
by Joseph Conrad

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     The river-bank was clear, and on the waterside I saw a white man under a hat like a cart-wheel beckoning persistently with his whole arm. Examining the edge of the forest above and below, I was almost certain I could see movements -- human forms gliding here and there.

     I steamed past prudently, then stopped the engines and let her drift down. The man on the shore began to shout, urging us to land.

     "We have been attacked," screamed the manager.

     "I know -- I know. It's all right," yelled back the other, as cheerful as you please. "Come along. It's all right. I am glad."

 

     His aspect reminded me of something I had seen -- something funny I had seen somewhere. As I manoeuvred to get alongside, I was asking myself, "What does this fellow look like?" Suddenly I got it. He looked like a harlequin. His clothes had been made of some stuff that was brown holland probably, but it was covered with patches all over, with bright patches, blue, red, and yellow -- patches on the back, patches on the front, patches on elbows, on knees; coloured binding around his jacket, scarlet edging at the bottom of his trousers; and the sunshine made him look extremely gay and wonderfully neat withal, because you could see how beautifully all this patching had been done.

 
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