The Thames
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The Nellie, a cruising yawl, swings to her anchor without a flutter of the sails, and is at rest. The sun sinks low, and the air above Gravesend condenses into a mournful gloom, brooding motionless over the biggest, and the greatest, town on earth.
Marlow sits cross-legged right aft, leaning against the mizzen-mast. He has sunken cheeks, a yellow complexion, and resembles an idol. Suddenly, he breaks the silence.
"And this also," said Marlow suddenly, "has been one of the dark places of the earth."
He begins to speak of Roman times, of the savagery that once closed round this very river, and then, his voice drops. "I suppose you fellows remember I did once turn fresh-water sailor for a bit..."