1 Now letters went to the coast every week.
2 I interrupted him by saying I had heard of Mr. Kurtz on the coast.
3 Once, I remember, we came upon a man-of-war anchored off the coast.
4 Watching a coast as it slips by the ship is like thinking about an enigma.
5 An athletic black belonging to some coast tribe, and educated by my poor predecessor, was the helmsman.
6 And every week the messenger, a lone negro, letter-bag on shoulder and staff in hand, left our station for the coast.
7 It appears he had persuaded a Dutch trading-house on the coast to fit him out with stores and goods, and had started for the interior with a light heart, and no more idea of what would happen to him than a baby.
8 Brought from all the recesses of the coast in all the legality of time contracts, lost in uncongenial surroundings, fed on unfamiliar food, they sickened, became inefficient, and were then allowed to crawl away and rest.
9 The idleness of a passenger, my isolation amongst all these men with whom I had no point of contact, the oily and languid sea, the uniform somberness of the coast, seemed to keep me away from the truth of things, within the toil of a mournful and senseless delusion.