The river changed. It was calmer, quieter, but more peaceful. The wide river, after serving people for centuries, flowed quietly, like a path to the far ends of the world. We saw the old river not in the bright light of a short day, but in the soft light of long-lasting memories. For someone who loves the sea, it's easy to remember the past along the Thames. The tide flows constantly, full of memories of people and ships it carried home or to battle. It served everyone the nation is proud of, from famous sailors to great explorers. It carried famous ships, from the Golden Deer, returning with treasure, to the Terror, which never returned. It knew the ships and the men who sailed from Deptford, Greenwich, and Erith – adventurers, colonists, royal ships, and merchant ships; captains, admirals, and traders. They all sailed down this river, carrying weapons and often fire, representing their country. What great things had travelled on this river into the unknown world!…The dreams of people, the beginnings of countries, the seeds of empires.
The sun set; darkness fell, and lights appeared along the shore. The Chapman lighthouse shone brightly. Ship lights moved – many lights going up and down the river. Farther west, the city seemed large, a dark shadow in the sunlight, a bright shine under the stars.
"This," said Marlow, "was also one of the dark places of the earth."
He was the only one of us who still loved the sea. He wasn't like other sailors. Most sailors have a settled life on their ship, which is also their home and their world. One ship is much like another, and the sea is always the same. They see many places and people, but they don't really notice them. Nothing is mysterious to a sailor except the sea itself, which rules their life. After work, a short walk or a night out is enough for them to understand a new place, and they usually don't find it interesting. Sailors' stories are simple. But Marlow was different. To him, the meaning of a story wasn't just the simple facts, but a larger feeling surrounding it.
His comment wasn't surprising at all. It was typical of Marlow. Everyone listened quietly. Nobody even bothered to make a sound. After a while, he said very slowly, "I was thinking about a long time ago, when the Romans first came here, nineteen hundred years ago – the other day…. This river has brought light since then – you mentioned knights? Yes, but it's like a fast-moving fire across a field. We live in this blinking light – may it last as long as the earth keeps turning! But yesterday, it was dark here. Imagine how a Roman ship captain must have felt, suddenly ordered north; rushing across France; put in charge of one of these boats and the soldiers – they must have been very skilled, building ships by the hundreds in a couple of months, if we believe what we read. Imagine him here – at the edge of the world, a grey sea, a smoke-filled sky, a weak ship – going up this river with supplies, or orders, or whatever. Swamps, forests, wild people – very little food fit for a civilized person, only river water to drink. No good wine here, no going on land. Here and there a military camp lost in the wilderness – cold, fog, storms, illness, and death – death everywhere. They must have been dying quickly. Oh yes – he did it. He probably did it well, and without much thought, except later maybe he was proud of it. They were bold enough to face the darkness. And maybe he hoped for a better job at sea later, if he had friends in Rome and survived the bad weather."