rm.thenightboat-第3部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　Beth；　and　eight…year…old　son；　Brian；　who'd　fought　for　a　membership　at　the　Amsterdam　Hills　Country　Club；　who'd　owned　a　beautiful；　teak…decked　sailing　sloop；　custom…built　by　a　Canadian　firm；　that　he　and　Beth　had　christened…with　champagne　and　all…Destiny's　Child。　In　those　days　he　had　worn　〃the　uniform；〃　dark…blue　or　gray　suits　with　regimental…striped　ties；　to　quiet　business　luncheons　and　discussions　in　oak…paneled　drawing　rooms　where　he　had　struggled　to　stifle　his　yawning　and　restless　unease。
　　He　slipped　into　his　black　swim　fins；　strapped　a　sheathed　knife　around　the　calf　of　his　right　leg；　then　secured　a　weight…belt　to　his　waist。　Putting　on　a　pair　of　gauntlet　gloves；　Moore　rinsed　out　his　mask　with　seawater；　spat　into　it　to　prevent　it　from　fogging；　and　then　rinsed　it　out　again。　He　eased　the　mask　down　over　his　face；　put　the　regulator　mouthpiece　between　his　teeth；　sucked　and　exhaled　to　make　certain　it　was　clear；　then　flipped　himself　backward　over　the　gunwale　in　an　easy；　practiced　motion。
　　Below；　in　the　great　room　with　light…blue　walls　streaming　with　sunlight；　he　waited　for　his　bubbles　to　clear；　watching　the　rise　and　fall　of　the　hull　above　him。　When　he　had　adjusted　to　his　underwater　world；　Moore　swam　toward　the　bow；　found　the　taut　anchor　line　and　began　to　follow　it　hand…over…hand　into　the　depths；　his　breath　appearing　before　him　in　crystal　globes　that　ascended　to　the　surface。　He　went　slowly；　clearing　his　ears　by　squeezing　his　nostrils　shut　and　blowing　every　few　seconds。　In　another　moment　he　sighted　the　bottom；　ridges　of　sand　and　high　walls　of　tangled　coral；　and　he　let　go；　kicking　smoothly　away；　when　he　came　to　the　end　of　the　anchor　line。　Following　the　bottom；　he　swam　toward　the　curtain　of　blue　before　him；　his　legs　doing　all　the　work；　his　arms　held　loosely　at　his　sides。　Familiar　sights　told　him　he　was　in　the　right　place：　the　bulbous　mass　of　brown　brain　coral　that　had　amazed　him　the　first　time　he'd　seen　it；　magnificent　forest　of　staghorn　coral；　now　filled　with　the　dart　and　shimmer　of　dwarf　herring；　an　angelfish；　strikingly　blue　and　yellow；　moving　gracefully　past　him。
　　Through　thick　clumps　of　algae　that　stirred　with　the　currents　below；　Moore　saw　a　brigade　of　crabs　on　the　march；　freezing　solid　when　they　sensed　his　movement。　The　reefs　were　alive；　fish　flew　like　birds　through　the　coral　openings　or　whisked　themselves　into　holes　to　await　his　passing。　The　reef　dwellers　were　too　accustomed　to　the　predators　to　take　any　chances。　A　shadow　covered　him；　and　he　looked　up。　Thirty　feet　above　an　eagle　ray　swam；　the　wings　rippling　like　beautiful　muscle。　It　vanished　into　the　blue　gloom。
　　Moore　had　been　angling　down　as　the　bottom　dropped　away；　and　now　he　faced　a　wall　of　gnarled　dark　coral。　He　swam　through　a　maze　of　sea　fans；　then　rose　above　the　wall　and　stopped　abruptly。
　　Beneath　him　stretched　the　Abyss：　dark；　forboding。　The　sea　turned　from　blue　to　black　in　those　depths；　like　the　huge　mouth　of　something　waiting　to　devour　him。　Though　he'd　been　prepared；　the　sight　of　it　sent　an　electric　chill　through　him。　Abruptly　the　vision　of　the　ghost　ship；　lit　by　moonlight；　glowing　green　and　iridescent；　came　to　him。　He　brushed　it　away。　If　ghosts　did　exist；　Moore　thought；　they　probably　were　down　in　that　awesome　hole。　He　glanced　up　at　the　silvery　surface；　then　thought　of　the　brass　ship's　pass　he'd　found　last　year　and　began　to　descend。
　　There　was　a　freighter　down　there　somewhere；　Moore　knew；　probably　so　deep　his　lungs　would　explode　before　he　could　ever　reach　it。　It　had　gone　down　sometime　in　a　battle　during　World　War　II…that　was　all　he　could　glean　from　the　stories　that　floated　about　the　island。　Details　were　sketchy；　and　no　one　here　really　liked　to　talk　about　the　war。　He　had　gone　diving　in　this　area　the　year　before；　after　another　fierce　storm；　and　had　discovered　a　ledge　littered　with　pieces　of　metal；　railings；　even　the　bow　portion　of　a　shattered　lifeboat。　On　that　dive　Moore　had　found　an　old　ship's　pass；　the　glass　missing　but　the　brass　still　shining。　He　had　taken　the　pass　back　to　the　inn；　but　when　he'd　returned　to　the　Abyss　a　few　days　afterward　the　sand　had　settled　back　like　a　flat　white　carpet；　and　nothing　remained。　Another　storm　had　hit　soon　after；　but　he　hadn't　had　the　chance　to　dive　again；　so　he'd　had　to　wait　for　the　following　season　in　hopes　of　finding　something　else　he　might　be　able　to　salvage。
　　He　continued　downward。　Where's　that　ledge？　he　wondered　suddenly；　trying　to　pierce　the　deep…blue　mist。　It's　dropped　away　entirely。　But　then　it　materialized　and　he　reached　it；　swimming　along　a　high　ridge　of　rock…dappled　sand。　There　was　something　metal　a　few　feet　ahead：　a　rusted　can。　He　picked　it　up。　It　was　still　sealed；　though　badly　dented。　He　let　it　fall；　swam　on。　In　the　midst　of　clumps　of　coral；　probably　ripped　from　the　reef　at　the　Abyss　rim；　there　were　shards　of　timber　and　more　cans　which　gleamed　brightly。　He　held　one　up　and　saw　himself　reflected　in　the　scoured　metal。　It　had　been　buried。　Food　supplies　for　that　freighter's　crew？　he　wondered。　Maybe。　What　would　be　inside？　Peaches？　Vegetables？　He　wondered　if　out　of　curiosity　he　should　open　one　to　see　what　was　included　in　a　1942　merchant　seaman's　diet。
　　The　Abyss　stretched　down　beneath　him　like　the　empty　socket　of　a　huge　eye；　there　was　a　series　of　ledges；　all　sand　choked　with　rock　at　various　depths；　one　beneath　the　other　until　they　faded　from　sight。　One　of　them；　a　massive　Mt。　Everest　of　sand；　caught　his　eye。　It　had　a　definite　shape；　but　he　couldn't　determine　what　it　reminded　him　of。　Moore　descended；　intrigued　by　the　mound；　he　hadn't　noticed　it　before；　but　then　his　attention　had　been　on　an　upper　ledge；　not　the　lower　ones。　He　was　perhaps　ten　feet　above　it　when　he　realized　something　was　protruding　from　the　mass　of　sand　and　rock；　his　heart　began　to　beat　more　rapidly。
　　Moore　hovered　over　it；　fanning　the　sand　back　with　quick　motions　of　his　fins。　The　top　of　a　cylinder　of　some　kind　protruded　vertically。　He　felt　it　gingerly。　Iron。　Unmarked　by　marine　growth；　the　object；　like　the　cans；　had　been　pletely　covered　over　by　sand。　There　was　glass　in　it；　very　heavily　scarred。　What　in　God's　name？　he　wondered。　He　reached　down　and　pulled　at　it；　only　half…expecting　it　to　e　free；　it　wouldn't　budge。　Moore　began　to　dig　the　sand　away　from　the　object；　then　wrenched　again　at　it。　No　use；　David　old　cock；　he　told　himself。　This…whatever…is　stuck　tight。　He　checked　his　wristwatch。　Time　to　head　for　the　surface。　But　this　cylinder：　the　scars　of　sand　abrasion　glinting；　the　glass　inset。　Fascinating　as　hell。　It　could　be　something　worthwhile；　he　thought。　Or　perhaps。。。he　gazed　down　at　the　sand　stirred　by　his　every　movement。
　　Or　perhaps　something　was　buried　beneath　it。
　　Moore　unstrapped　his　knife　from　its　sheath　and　dug　rocks　away　from　the　cylinder's　base。　He　uncovered　more　iron；　gleaming　and　pitted；　an　inch　at　a　time。　Digging　in　wrist　deep；　he　pulled　the　sand　away　in　handfuls。　He　pried　the　rocks　loose　with　his　blade　and　let　them　roll　off　into　that　deep　hole　below　him。　Another　glance　at　the　watch。　Time　to　go！　But　he　was　functioning　like　a　machine　now；　digging　and　lifting；　slowly　uncovering　what　appeared　to　be　a　thick；　gleaming　iron　support　for　that　cylinder。　There　were　no　growths；　it　had　been　buried　here　for　a　long　time。　His　knife　scraped　across　flat　rock　and　he　shifted　his　digging　to　another　section。
　　And　then　he　froze。　Forgot　to　exhale；　then　exhaled；　the　bubbles　rattling　toward　the　surface　over　a　hundred　and　fifty　feet　above。
　　He　had　heard　something；　muffled　and　far　away；　like　iron　being　hammered　underwater。
　　Moore　waited；　his　heart　pounding；　but　the　noise　didn't　e　again。　What　was　it？　He　looked　around　and　then　realized　something　very　odd：　he　hadn't　seen　any　fish　at　this　depth。　Very　odd；　in　waters　teaming　with　snapper；　grouper；　jacks；　albacore。　Moore　glanced　up；　looking　for　the　reassuring　distant　glow　of　the　sun。　There　were　remnants　of　jagged　rock　hanging　over　him；　as　if　what　had　once　been　a　ledge　just　above　had　given　way。　He　tried　to　quiet　the　inner　voices。　Get　to　your　boat；　they　whispered。　Something　is　wrong　here。
　　Where　were　the　damned　fish？
　　He　continued　digging；　lifting　out　coral　clumps。
　　The　sand　pletely　obscured　his　vision；　like　the　roil　of　white　clouds；　it　had　to　be　extremely　deep　here；　he　thought。　A　mountain　of　sand　and　below　him　the　valley　of　darkness。　He　plunged　in　his　hands；　the　fingers　closing　around　a　rock；　and　pulled　it　out　from　the　mound。　When　he　did；　sand　cascaded　in　sheets　off　the　sides　of　the　mountain　and　on　into　the　Abyss。
　　Then　Moore　saw　something　exposed　a　few　feet　away　from　the　strange　cylinder　and　the　iron　tower。　He　pulled　at　the　new　object。　It　was　a　large　barrel　of　some　kind；　also　made　of　scarred；　dented　metal。　He　freed　it　and　it　began　to　slide　down　the　sand　slope；　and　as　he　clung　to　it　he　saw　the　detonation　cap　of　the　device；　and　the　chill　of　fear　raised　hair　on　the　back　of　his　neck。
　　It　was　an　unexploded　depth　charge。
　　Moore　wrenched　his　hands　back　as　if　they'd　been　burned。　His　tank　clanged　sharply　against　coral　debris；　and　he　fought　his　way　up　the　mountain　away　from　it；　his　fins　churning　water。　He　could　see　himself　turned　inside　out　by　the　thing's　blast；　his　body　reduced　to　a　mass　of　bloody　shreds。　Then　the　predators　would　e；　and　there　would　be　nothing　left。　He　half…sank　into　the　sand；　fought　himself　free　in　a　blinding　mist；　looking　back　over　his　shoulder　to　see　the　forgotten　charge　pitch　off　the　ledge。　Then　it　began　to　fall　into　the　depths；　spinning　end　over　end。　Moore　reached　the　summit；　the　charge　had　vanished　into　the　dark　mists　and　he　stared　fearfully　after　it；　praying　that　if　it　did　explode　it　would　go　off　hundreds　of　feet　below；　where　the　shock　might　not　kill　him。　Otherwise。。。
　　And　then　there　was　a　burst　of　white　light　far　below。　The　shock　came　roaring　out　of　the　depths；　an　undersea　whirlwind　that　reached　inside　him；　through　the　flesh；　gripping　the　bones　and　twisting。
　　He　gritted　his　teeth　against　the　pain　and　roaring　noise　that　almost　shattered　his　eardrums；　a　fissure　split　open　in　the　sand；　releasing　a　pulsating　globe　of　air　that　tore　past　him　and　rocketed　up　toward　the　surface。　The　blast　echoed　all　around；　the　water　crazily　shifting　in　all　directions；　trying　to　rip　him　to　pieces。　The　sand　parted；　cracked　open　in　a　dozen　seams。　It　slid　under　him；　an　avalanche　of　it　cov