rm.thenightboat-第38部分

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　was　a　magnificent　sight；　preparing　for　sea　duty。　I　can　never　forget　it；　nor　do　I　wish　to。　Yet。。。　I　suppose　now　the　boat　is　nothing。〃
　　Moore　sat　there　a　moment　longer；　then　walked　across　the　room　to　refill　his　glass。　Outside；　the　clouds　were　heavy　in　the　early　evening　sky　and　lights　were　ing　on　in　some　of　the　village　houses。　The　breeze　had　quieted；　and　through　the　screened　door　Moore　saw　a　sudden　flash　on　the　distant　horizon；　perhaps　heat　lightning　or　a　storm　crawling　across　the　earth's　curve。　He　didn't　want　darkness　to　fall　tonight。　If　only　he　could　keep　the　light　from　fading；　so　he　would　be　reassured　of　a　measure　of　safety。　His　eyes　scanned　the　jungle's　dark　folds。　They　were　out　there；　he　didn't　know　how　many；　but　they　were　out　there。　Waiting。
　　〃I　didn't　mean　to　go　on　about　the　boat；〃　Schiller　said。　〃It's　ancient　history。　But；　you　see；　that's　all　I　have　left。〃
　　〃The　crew；〃　Moore　said　suddenly；　turning　to　face　the　German。　〃Something's　happened。。。〃　He　stopped；　and　Schiller　leaned　forward　slightly。
　　〃What　about　them？〃
　　Moore　paused；　wondering　what　to　say。　It　was　madness　to　think　the　man　would　believe　him。
　　〃You　found　their　remains？〃　Schiller　asked。　〃I'm　prepared　to　help　with　the　identification；　as　much　as　I　can。〃
　　The　silence　stretched　between　them；　Moore　lost　in　thought　and　wishing　the　man　sitting　opposite　had　never　seen　that　newspaper　item；　never　e　to　Coquina。　Finally；　he　motioned　toward　the　kitchen。　〃If　you're　hungry　I　can　throw　some　snapper　in　a　skillet。〃
　　〃Yes。。。　Danke。　That　would　be　very　good。〃
　　〃Why　don't　you　go　on　back　there；〃　Moore　said；　〃and　I'll　check　on　Dr。　Thornton。〃　When　the　German　had　walked　through　the　hallway　Moore　went　upstairs　and　found　that　Jana　was　still　sleeping。　Before　going　to　the　kitchen　he　went　outside；　closing　and　latching　all　the　shutters。　He　locked　the　screen　door　as　the　darkness　rolled　slowly　across　Coquina。　Then　he　latched　the　front　door；　as　if　he　could　hold　the　night　back　with　a　single　slab　of　wood。
　　　
　　　Twenty
　　
　　A　THIN　BEAM　of　light　moved　along　a　pile　of　empty　battery　crates；　there　was　a　sudden；　frantic　rustling　and　squeaking；　and　Lenny　Cochran　kicked　at　one　of　the　crates。　Instantly　a　small　dark　shape；　then　another；　burst　from　the　debris　and　scrambled　toward　the　wharf　pilings。　He　followed　them　with　the　light　until　they　disappeared　behind　a　skiff　that　had　been　overturned　for　keel　patching。　Big　damn　rats　everywhere；　he　thought。　He　could　hear　others　moving　around　the　center　of　the　crates。　Probably　a　nest　of　the　buggers　in　there；　he　told　himself。　One　good　fire　would　sear　their　asses　and　clean　'em　out。
　　He　turned　away　from　the　crates　and　continued　on；　moving　his　flashlight　from　side　to　side。　The　barnacle…scarred　hull　of　a　trawler　tied　up　at　the　wharfs　caught　the　reflections　of　the　light　in　the　water；　he　shone　the　flashlight　the　length　of　the　boat；　then　turned　away　and　walked　up　through　the　hard…packed　sand；　stopping　every　so　often　to　examine　other　heaps　of　junk；　clusters　of　barrels；　pieces　of　engines　laid　out　on　the　ground。　The　tin…roofed　supply　shed　was　directly　ahead；　its　doors　had　been　hastily　repaired　and　boarded　over。　He　paused　only　a　moment　around　the　shed　before　moving　toward　the　far　side　of　the　yard；　where　the　sea　lapped　quietly　against　the　sliding　bulkhead　of　the　abandoned　naval　shelter。
　　He'd　tried　to　get　some　of　the　other　men　to　act　as　night　watchman　for　Mr。　Langstree；　but　none　of　them　would　have　any　part　of　it。　Mason　and　Percy　had　whined　when　he'd　asked　them；　J。R。　had　flatly　refused　to　do　it；　and　so　had　the　others。　He　couldn't　force　any　of　the　men　to　do　it；　so　the　job　had　fallen　to　him。　He　felt　guilty　about　having　that　boat　put　into　Mr。　Langstree's　yard　without　proper　permission　anyway；　and　this　was　a　way　to　ease　his　own　conscience　and　get　back　into　Mr。　Langstree's　good　graces。
　　He　knew　exactly　what　bothered　the　others；　it　was　the　stories　they　heard；　and　Boniface's　warning　about　staying　away　from　the　yard。　He'd　heard　the　whispers　around　the　bars：　Something　bad　was　going　on；　something　nobody　wanted　to　talk　about；　and　it　had　to　do　with　the　damned　boat。　The　Night　Boat；　that's　what　they　called　it。　It　gave　him　the　willies　to　think　about　what　the　two　trawler　captains　had　said。　Jumbies；　dead　souls　flying　on　the　wind　and　ing　down　at　you　to　go　for　your　eyeballs　and　tear　out　your　heart。。。
　　He　shivered。　Stop　that　kind　of　thinkin'；　mon！　he　told　himself　severely。　That　only　gets　a　body　in　trouble！　He　felt　again　for　the　old　skeleton…gripped　revolver　he'd　brought　as　protection。　He'd　only　been　able　to　find　three　shells　at　home　but　he　figured　one　would　be　enough　anyway；　to　scare　off　anybody　who　might　e　to　steal　more　supplies。　Damn；　but　it's　dark　out　here！　he　thought。　No　moon；　no　stars；　the　smell　of　a　storm　building　up；　mebbe　one；　two　days　away　at　most。
　　And　in　another　few　moments　he　was　at　the　door　of　the　dark　naval　shelter。
　　He　moved　the　light　along　it；　whoever　had　nailed　it　up　had　done　a　hell　of　a　job。　Nobody　was　going　to　be　breaking　in　there　tonight。　He　looked　along　the　wall；　probed　with　the　point　of　the　light　down　toward　the　rotten　pilings　at　the　seaside　and　then；　satisfied　no　one　was　lurking　there；　started　to　move　quickly　toward　the　other　side　of　the　yard。
　　And　then　stopped。
　　Flesh　writhed　along　his　spine　and　at　the　back　of　his　neck。　His　heart　was　hammering　in　his　chest　and　he　swallowed；　trying　to　shake　off　the　fear。　What　the　hell　was。。。？　He　turned；　thrusting　the　flashlight　forward　as　if　it　were　a　weapon。
　　He　waited；　not　daring　to　breathe；　listening　for　the　noise　that　had　sounded　like。。。　something。。。　scratching。。。
　　Something　scratching　behind　that　door。
　　Rats。　Rats　caught　in　there；　seeking　a　way　out。
　　And　as　he　watched　he　saw　the　door　slowly　bulge　outward；　pushed　by　a　tremendous　force。　Wood　creaked　and　whined；　then　settled　back　on　its　frame。　He　couldn't　move；　his　mouth　opened　in　a　silent　scream；　the　door　bulging　outward；　outward；　the　noise　of　nails　giving　way　around　timbers；　the　splitting　of　wood。。。　Jesus！　The　light　was　shaking　in　his　hand；　he　couldn't　hold　it　still；　and　when　he　drew　the　gun　he　couldn't　keep　that　steady　either。
　　The　door　cried　out　eerily　with　the　force　of　whatever　was　on　the　other　side；　with　a　noise　like　a　pistol　shot　a　split　appeared　in　its　center。　A　jagged　gap　grew　down　the　weathered　wood。
　　From　the　inside　a　gnarled；　misshapen　hand　emerged；　reaching　down　and　snapping　away　one　of　the　reinforcing　timbers。
　　Cochran　stepped　back；　unable　to　summon　the　strength　to　flee。　He　raised　the　gun　and　squeezed　the　trigger；　hearing　the　sound　of　his　own　labored　breathing　loudly　in　his　ears。
　　But　the　hammer　fell　dully　upon　one　of　the　empty　cylinders。
　　The　door　shattered　in　a　ripping　of　wood　and　nails；　a　half…dozen　claws　probed　through；　tearing　a　way　out。　Cochran　tried　to　lift　the　gun　again；　but　it　seemed　too　heavy　and　he　knew　he　couldn't　aim　it　and　he　had　to　get　away　from　this　place；　get　to　the　village；　tell　them　yes　the　jumbies　were　real；　the　evil　things　had　descended　upon　Coquina。
　　And　it　was　then　that　one　of　the　things　that　had　e　up　through　the　darkness　behind　him　leaped　upon　him；　its　teeth　sinking　through　the　back　of　his　neck　and　crunching　on　the　spinal　cord。　Another　grasped　his　left　arm　and　savagely　twisted　it；　ripping　it　from　its　socket。　A　third　clawed　at　the　man's　chest　in　frenzy；　broke　open　the　ribs；　and　tore　the　heart　out　like　a　dripping　treasure。
　　The　mander　stood　apart　from　the　others。　Wilhelm　Korrin　let　them　feast；　then　motioned　with　a　shriveled　arm　for　them　to　help　free　their　rades。
　　
　　There　was　a　faint　glow　in　the　sky；　and　Steven　Kip　was　driving　toward　it。
　　He　had　left　home　in　the　early　evening；　leaving　Myra　with　a　loaded　rifle　and　telling　her　to　keep　the　doors　and　shutters　locked。　He'd　gone　down　to　his　office　to　get　the　second　rifle　and　a　can　of　gasoline　before　patrolling　the　village。　Now；　driving　along　the　harbor；　he　saw　the　light　over　the　treetops　in　the　distance；　and　he　knew　it　was　ing　from　near　Boniface's　church。　More　voodoo？　he　asked　himself；　as　he　raced　through　the　empty　streets。　Damn　it　to　hell！　A　large　fire　blazed　in　a　circle　that　had　been　dug　out　and　ringed　with　red　and　black　painted　stones　in　front　of　the　church。　Kip　could　see　shards　of　timber；　clothing；　and　what　looked　like　shattered　sections　of　the　church　pews　piled　in　it。　At　the　fire's　base　a　heap　of　ashes　glowed　a　bright　red…orange；　and　the　heat　of　it　seared　his　face　as　he　left　his　vehicle。　He　walked　around　the　circle　and　hammered　on　the　door。　No　answer。　Kip　knocked　again　with　the　strength　of　anger；　the　heat　touching　him　like　a　hand　with　bright…red　nails。　The　church　windows；　like　watchful　eyes；　reflected　the　flames；　and　no　lights　showed　through　the　shutter　slats。
　　〃BONIFACE！〃　Kip　called　out。
　　And　then；　very　slowly；　the　door　opened。
　　Boniface　stood　before　him　in　a　stained　white　shirt；　bright　beads　of　sweat；　each　one　reflecting　fire；　glistening　on　his　face。　In　his　eyes　the　blaze　seemed　white…hot。　〃Get　away　from　here！〃　he　said　sharply。　He　started　to　shut　the　door　again；　but　Kip　slammed　his　arm　against　it　and　forced　his　way　in。
　　The　church　was　filled　with　the　red　glow；　alive　with　the　frenzied　slithering　of　shadows。　Many　of　the　seats　had　indeed　been　torn　out　as　fuel　for　the　flames；　and　there　was　an　axe　propped　in　a　corner。　On　the　altar　were　the　pots　and　strange　bottles　Kip　had　seen　at　the　jungle　ceremony；　three　or　four　cheap　metal　crucifixes　hung　on　the　walls；　and　the　floor　around　the　altar　was　sprinkled　with　sawdust　and　ashes。　Kip　shook　his　head　and　stared　at　the　old　man；　around　Boniface's　neck　was　the　glass　eye；　its　pupil　a　gleaming　red　circle。
　　Boniface　reached　forward　and　bolted　the　door；　then　turned　to　the　constable。　A　drop　of　sweat　ran　down　across　his　cheek　and　spattered　onto　the　floor。
　　〃What　are　you　doing；　old　man？〃　Kip　asked。　〃What's　this　fire　for？〃
　　〃Get　away！〃　Boniface　repeated。　〃As　quickly　as　you　can！〃
　　Kip　ignored　him　and　walked　to　the　altar；　examining　the　materials　spread　out　there；　liquids　in　bottles　and　dark　things　in　black　pots。　All　voodoo　things；　he　remembered；　used　to　municate　with　the　spirit　world。　One　of　the　pots　had　been　overturned；　an　oily…looking　liquid　spilled　from　it；　a　bottle　had　been　thrown　against　a　wall；　leaving　its　remains　in　red　smears　on　the　pai