The novel opens with several crewmembers on a ship in the ocean, who claim a shared brotherhood— a bond enforced by the sea, by the vast and true openness. The narrator describes them as veiled by a “slightly disdainful ignorance” because as hardships continue on land, they travel from port to port, only catching glimpses of the present world, claiming “we live in the flicker” (5). They hear not of trouble of tragedy; instead, they sail in isolation. The river-folk, meaning all characters Marlow encounters on his fresh-water excursion, would be incapable of this sort of camaraderie. On the Congo River, there is minimal forums for open communication. Most information is passed or learned through observation or eavesdropping and neither are given free or with wholesome intentions. For example, Marlow quickly identifies his conversion with the brick-maker to be a ploy for information. He, at first, finds the means of gathering information odd, but he, too, succumbs to it when he eavesdrops on the manager and his uncle later in the novel. In essence, he is corrupted by the nature of the