rm.thenightboat-第27部分

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his　face。　〃It　smells　of　rot　in　here；　let's　get　out　into　the　sun。〃
　　When　they　had　left　the　shelter　Kip　closed　the　door　and　looked　for　some　way　to　lock　it；　he　found　a　thin　metal　rod　in　the　debris　of　the　yard　and　jammed　it　through　the　door's　hasp　as　a　temporary　solution。
　　〃I　have　a　letter　from　the　Jamaica　Historic　Foundation　in　my　bag；〃　Jana　said　curtly。　〃If　you　like　I'll　get　it　for　you　and　then　we　can。。。〃
　　〃No；〃　Kip　said。　〃Never　mind　any　letters。〃　He　was　aware　of　the　woman's　growing　anger。　〃How　did　you　get　to　Coquina？〃
　　〃My　airplane。〃
　　〃I　see。〃　He　glanced　over　at　Moore；　then　back　to　the　woman。　〃Well。。。　Dr。　Thornton；　is　it？　I'm　afraid　you　made　a　long　trip　for　nothing。　First　thing　Monday　morning　two　trawlers　are　going　to　tow　the　submarine　out　to　deep　water。　A　couple　of　welders　are　going　to　cut　holes　into　it；　and　it's　going　back　down　where　it　came　from。〃
　　〃Wait　a　minute；〃　Jana　said；　her　face　flushing。　〃I　don't　know　why　you　think　you　can　make　this　decision；　but　I'm　not　going　to　let　you　do　it！〃
　　〃I'm　sorry。　The　plans　have　been　made。〃
　　〃Then　unmake　them；　damn　it！〃　she　said；　stepping　defiantly　toward　him。　Kip　stood　where　he　was；　but　he　could　feel　the　heat　of　her　anger。　〃You　don't　seem　to　realize　what　that　boat　is！　It's　a　Nazi　U…boat　in　almost　perfect　condition　after　forty　years　or　so　at　the　bottom　of　the　Caribbean。　We　have　to　know　how　it　stayed　that　way；　what　made　it　cork；　and　what　boat　it　was。　I　can　have　a　salvage　team　down　here　within　three　days！　You　can't　sink　it！〃
　　〃It's　a　rotting　old　hulk；〃　Kip　said。
　　〃No！　It's　in　remarkable　condition；　not　much　deteriorated　from　the　day　it　went　down！　And　I'll　wager　the　interior　is　in　excellent　condition　as　well；　including　the　engine　room！　My　God；　the　boat's　a　naval　historian's　dream。　It's　almost　certain　I　can　guarantee　interest　from　the　British　Museum　if　I　can　just　examine　the　inside！〃
　　〃You　ever　heard　the　story　of　Pandora's　Box？〃　Kip　asked　her；　the　question　startled　her。　〃Let's　just　say　there's　plenty　you　don't　know　about　the　submarine。　All　manner　of　hell's　been　raised　here　because　of　it。　No；　I'm　not　going　to　wait　any　three　days。　I　wouldn't　wait　three　damned　hours　if　I　didn't　have　to！〃　He　reached　over　and　pulled　at　the　metal　rod　to　make　certain　the　door　was　shut　securely。　Moore　realized　he　had　locked　the　door　as　if　to　keep　something　in　instead　of　out。　Kip　turned　to　him　and　said；　〃I　was　driving　past　on　my　way　back　from　Caribville　and　I　saw　your　truck　parked　here。　I　didn't　think　you　would've　e　back　here　alone。。。〃
　　〃You're　a　madman！〃　Jana　said　suddenly。　〃That's　a　scientific　find　you　want　to　destroy！〃
　　〃I've　had　enough　arguing；　miss；〃　Kip　told　her；　looking　her　straight　in　the　eye。　〃I've　had　my　say；　and　that's　how　things　stand。　If　you　want　to　file　a　protest　with　your　Foundation　when　you　get　back　to　Kingston；　that's　fine　with　me　too。　Let　them　get　in　touch　with　me；　and　I'll　tell　them　the　same　thing。　The　U…boat's　going　back　into　the　ocean。　David；　I'll　see　you　later。　Dr。　Thornton；　have　a　good　trip。〃　He　nodded　toward　her　and　walked　back　to　his　jeep。　He　started　the　engine　and　roared　off；　leaving　them　standing　together　at　the　side　of　the　shelter。
　　〃What's　wrong　with　that　man？〃　Jana　asked。　〃Is　he　out　of　his　mind？〃
　　〃No；〃　Moore　said。　〃No；　he's　not。〃　It　was　getting　late；　the　shadows　were　thicker；　a　blue…black　mist　stretching　across　the　yard。　Soon　night　would　cover　the　island；　and　Moore　realized　there　was　no　place　on　earth　he　would　rather　avoid　than　this　boatyard；　with　the　U…boat　lying　only　behind　the　thickness　of　a　wooden　wall　after　darkness　fell。　〃It's　too　late　for　you　to　make　Kingston　before　dark；〃　he　told　Jana。　〃If　you'd　like　I'll　give　you　a　room　up　at　the　hotel。〃
　　〃I　appreciate　that；〃　she　said；　〃but　I've　no　intention　of　leaving　until　I've　talked　some　sense　into　that　idiot。〃
　　〃Suit　yourself；〃　Moore　said；　motioning　toward　the　truck。
　　
　　Driving　into　the　village；　Kip　knew　there　was　something　terribly　wrong；　he　saw　the　empty　streets；　the　shuttered　windows；　the　voodoo　talismans　scrawled　on　stucco　and　clapboard。　Anger　surged　within　him；　and　he　felt　a　confusion　he　couldn't　begin　to　define。　One　of　the　symbols；　chalked　against　a　sea…green　door；　held　his　attention；　started　the　slow　stirring　of　memories…sluggish；　nebulous…at　the　back　of　his　brain。　It　was　the　crude　drawing　of　a　huge　hand；　from　top　to　bottom　of　the　door；　the　fingers　spread　as　if　to　ward　off　the　invisible。　Kip　pulled　the　jeep　to　the　side　of　the　road　and　stared　at　it；　unable　to　tear　his　gaze　away。
　　He　was　a　child　again；　a　boy　of　thirteen；　sitting　at　a　low　table　eating　from　a　bowl　of　corn　mush　and　ham　bits。　He　ate　slowly；　though　it　was　his　first　meal　in　over　a　day。　Across　the　plank…walled　room；　a　few　half…charred　logs　burned　erratically　in　a　stone　fireplace。　On　the　floor　was　woven　sea…grass；　well…worn；　the　window　shutters　were　closed　tight　and　the　only　light　came　from　several　oil　lamps　placed　around　the　room。　The　dim　half…glow　illuminated　the　straw　tribal　masks　on　the　walls；　their　features　cunning　and　wolfish：　heavy…browed　seashell　eyes　gleaming。　He　thought　they　were　staring　directly　at　him；　and　that　sometimes　their　features　changed　to　look　almost　human；　but　grotesque　and　freakish。
　　A　man　sat　in　a　rocking　chair　before　the　fire。　He　stared　into　the　flames；　rattling　a　jar　of　dog's　teeth　distractedly。　After　a　while　he　took　one　of　the　teeth　out　and　tossed　it　in；　then　bent　forward　as　if　he　saw　something　there。　He　leaned　back；　the　runners　making　a　soft；　catlike　murmur　on　the　grass　mat。　From　one　corner　there　was　a　low　rustle；　the　man　turned　his　head　and　the　boy　caught　a　firelight　profile　of　slitted　eyes　in　an　aged；　weather…lined　face。　On　a　bed　of　sea…grass　across　the　room　there　was　a　large　green　iguana　almost　two　feet　long；　a　metal　collar　clamped　about　its　neck　secured　the　reptile　to　a　line　tied　around　an　overhead　beam　with　enough　slack　so　that　the　lizard　could　move　about　in　the　room。　Its　pale　red　eyes　stared　at　Kip；　the　white　flesh　under　the　jaw　and　belly　undulating　as　it　breathed。　It　came　forward　a　few　feet；　crunching　on　the　grass；　stopped；　flesh　quivering　along　its　spine；　slender　tail　sweeping　across　the　floor。　Its　head　moved　jerkily；　eyes　fixed　on　Kip。
　　〃Feed　it；〃　the　man　said。
　　There　was　a　piece　of　doughy　brown　bread　beside　him。　He　tore　off　a　small　chunk　and　tossed　it　over。　The　lizard　jerked；　scurried　back；　waited。　Then　it　advanced　on　the　bread　and　licked　at　it。
　　Kip　was　still　dazed　from　hunger　and　weak　from　sleeping。　In　the　past　three　days　he　had　slept　a　great　deal；　intoxicated　by　the　strange　fumes　eminating　from　pots　the　man　kept　in　a　circle　around　the　boy's　bare　mattress。　Sometimes　his　sleep　was　dreamless　and　black；　the　sleep　of　the　dead；　but　more　often　it　was　peopled　by　phantoms；　grinning　things　like　the　masks　that　watched　him；　always　in　an　anticipatory　silence。　The　faces　spun　about　him　in　his　dreams；　calling　his　name　over　and　over。
　　Out　of　necessity；　Kip　had　begun　to　build　a　brick　wall　in　his　mind　to　keep　the　horrors　back；　the　mortar　going　down　smooth　and　thick；　each　row　of　bricks　solid　and　even。　But　sometimes　the　things　seemed　to　have　more　strength；　and　they　reached　out　with　their　gray　tendrils　to　pull　down　the　bricks　he　had　erected　the　night　before。　No　matter　how　hard　he　shrieked　at　the　nightmare　forms　there　was　no　escape；　there　were　too　many；　and　he　had　to　work　harder　and　harder　to　put　the　bricks　back　into　place。　He　worked　at　the　wall　like　a　madman；　as　if　sleep　were　just　another　of　the　many　labors　set　for　him　by　his　uncle；　who　had　made　him　heat　and　knead　balls　of　wax；　to　be　fashioned　into　images　by　the　man　and　sold　to　furtive　customers。　Kip　had　also　been　made　to　drain　seven　white　chickens　of　their　blood；　and；　one　night；　to　acpany　his　uncle　to　the　pauper's　graveyard　to　sever　a　recently　dead　man's　head　for　that　fearful　death　spell；　the　Garabanda。　The　wall　never　seemed　to　be　plete；　for　the　things　still　found　holes　and　weak　spots　through　which　to　grasp　at　him。　But　someday　it　would　be　strong　enough　to　hold　them　back　and　away　forever；　and　never　again　would　they　make　him　scream　that　terrible　scream　from　the　deep　pit　of　sleep。　He　vowed　it　to　himself；　made　the　vow　as　much　a　part　of　him　as　was　his　fear　and　dislike　of　the　man　who　called　himself　〃uncle。〃
　　In　one　of　his　cold…sweat　nightmares　he　was　wandering　the　wide　corridors　and　empty　rooms　of　a　huge；　abandoned　mansion。　Moss　draped　the　windows　and　doors；　no　light　could　penetrate；　and　he　moved　through　spidery　shadows。　When　he　ran　into　boarded…over　doors；　sealed　windows；　bricked　passageways；　he　would　turn　and　retrace　his　steps。　In　one　room　there　were　older　people　dressed　in　bright　colors；　each　of　them　standing　alone　and　not　speaking　to　the　others；　in　another　was　a　child　playing　on　the　floor　with　a　bright　green　ball　that　suddenly　uncurled　and　became　a　lizard　that　slithered　away。　Upstairs　was　a　passage　with　gaping　holes　in　the　floor；　the　black　timbers　threatening　to　give　way　beneath　his　feet。　He　guided　himself　onward；　searching；　feeling　his　way　along。
　　As　he　came　through　a　doorway；　the　tides　suddenly　surged　around　his　feet。　He　resisted　the　pull　of　the　current　and　saw　the　blue　water　slowly　turn　a　dark…red　color。　In　another　room；　farther　along；　were　a　woman　and　a　little　girl　who　waved　to　him　and　smiled。　He　heard　the　tolling　of　a　ship's　bell　from　far　away；　a　world　away；　then　silence。　He　moved　on；　finding　rooms　crowded　with　iron；　ship's　parts；　and　rusted　equipment；　a　white　man　moved　across　the　corridor　ahead　of　him　and　Kip　followed。　A　skeleton　stood　before　him；　arms　out；　face　imploring　him　for　something　he　couldn't　understand；　the　skeleton　crumpled；　fell　to　dust。
　　And　in　the　next　room；　almost　at　the　crown　of　the　house；　a　congregation　of　shadows。　A　chair。　Open　windows；　black　sky；　sheer　tattered　curtains　trailing　in　an　unfelt　wind。　And　in　the　chair　a　dark　form；　unrecognizable；　a　roiling　thing　without　true　substance；　but　emanating　a　vast　and　terrible　hate。　The　door　slammed　behind　him。　Alerted　by　the　noise；　the　hideous　form　turned　what　would　be　its　head；　slowly；　seeking　out　the　intruder。　Two　blinding　crimson　orbs　fixed　Kip　to　the　floor；　they　burned　through　to　his　brain。　And　then　the　thing　rose　from　the　chair　and　started　for　him；　dark　arms　ing　up　to　embrace　him。　He　felt　his　back　against　the　door；　felt　the　hardness　of　the　wood　press