rm.thenightboat-第9部分

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logized。
　　Moore　gazed　at　her；　she　was　a　pretty　girl；　very　young；　hardly　out　of　her　teens；　but　already　the　lines　were　showing。　Very　few　women　were　able　to　keep　their　looks　after　a　few　years　under　the　searing　Caribbean　sun；　and　she　would　be　no　exception。　But　he　smiled　at　her；　knowing　she　was　fishing　for　a　pliment。　〃I　think　you're　very　attractive。　Sexy。　How　about　a　cup　of　coffee？〃
　　She　gave　a　half…nod　and　sat　down　in　one　of　the　wicker　chairs。　She　put　her　purse；　made　a　bit　heavier　by　his　money；　on　the　long　table　made　of　a　solid　piece　of　driftwood；　sanded　and　oiled。　Across　the　bare　wood　floor　there　was　a　rug　of　woven　seagrass；　there　were　book…lined　shelves；　most　of　them　old　paperbacks；　a　small　fireplace　with　a　stone　mantel。　A　group　of　primitive　paintings；　done　in　wild　and　vivid　splashes　of　color　by　some　island　artist；　decorated　one　wall。
　　Moore　went　back　through　a　connecting　doorway　down　another　corridor　to　a　kitchen；　he　made　two　cups　of　the　strong；　rather　sweet；　island　brew　and　brought　one　of　them　to　her。　He　crossed　the　room　and　took　a　decanter　from　a　shelf　to　pour　a　stiff　shot　of　dark　rum　into　his　cup。　He　sipped　at　the　fortified　coffee；　feeling　it　light　up　his　insides　and　chase　the　bad　dreams　away。　As　he　turned　back　to　her　he　caught　a　glimpse　of　the　harbor　stretched　out　below　the　hotel　through　one　of　the　many　square　windows　that　lined　the　room。　Moonlight　glistened　on　the　submarine；　giving　it　shadowy　teeth。
　　〃Too　early　for　that；〃　Claire　said；　indicating　his　cup。　〃You　drank　a　good　bit　down　in　the　tavern。〃
　　He　shrugged　offhandedly　and　sat　down　in　a　chair　across　from　her；　unable　to　concentrate　on　anything　but　his　dream　and　the　events　of　the　previous　day。　He　had　filled　out　some　forms　at　the　constable's　office　and　Kip　had　witnessed　them。　He　was　uncertain　about　procedure　on　a　military　vessel　but；　he'd　said；　at　least　they　were　getting　something　down　on　paper。　Then；　there　were　two　ways　to　go：　contacting　the　Coast　Guard　to　have　the　boat　towed　off　and　possibly　sunk　in　deeper　water；　or　sending　out　feelers　over　the　radio…telephone　to　the　two　nearest　large　islands。　Jamaica　was　approximately　two　hundred　miles　to　the　northwest　and　Haiti　one　hundred　to　the　north。　Kip　had　a　cousin　working　for　the　police　in　Kingston；　who　could　probably　fill　them　in　on　the　procedures　so　everything　would　be　aboveboard　and　legal。　If　anyone　wanted　a　look　at　the　boat　the　word　would　get　out。　Moore　had　decided　to　wait　on　informing　the　Coast　Guard　and　see　what　developed。　Kip　had　agreed；　for　as　long　as　he　could　placate　Mayor　Reynard。　Then　he　cautioned　Moore　against　any　more　diving　in　that　damned　Abyss…at　least　until　the　mess　was　cleared　up。　〃Where'd　that　thing　e　from？〃　Claire　asked　him。
　　He　looked　up　at　her；　finally　registering　what　she'd　said。　〃What　thing？〃
　　〃I　saw　you　lookin'　at　it；　upstairs；　and　then　out　the　window。　The　boat。〃
　　〃Underwater；〃　he　said。　〃Other　than　that　I　don't　know。〃
　　The　girl　was　right：　It　was　too　early　for　rum。　You're　older　and　wiser　and　this　only　pounds　the　sickness。　Or　so　the　doctors　had　said。　Time　doesn't　heal；　Moore　thought　suddenly；　it　only　makes　you　forget　the　name　of　your　illness。　And　what　was　it　called？　There　was　a　medical　term　for　it　that　Moore　didn't　remember。　The　layman's　label　was　much　simpler：　〃survivor's　syndrome。〃
　　Claire　looked　up；　putting　the　empty　cup　aside；　went　to　the　window；　and　gazed　down。　〃It's　a　big　one。　The　men　are　already　talking　about　it　in　the　taverns。〃
　　〃Are　they？　What　do　they　say？〃
　　〃Funny　things；　things　I　don't　understand　so　good。　It's　made　some　of　them　afraid；　and　there's　a　lot　of　whisperin'　goin'　on。〃
　　〃Are　you　afraid　of　it？〃　he　asked。
　　She　paused；　then　smiled　awkwardly；　but　the　smile　was　quickly　gone。　〃I've　never　seen　nothin'　like　it　before。　But。。。　I　don't　know。　Mebbe。　A　closed…up　thing　like　that；　as　huge　as　it　is；　like　something　from　a　bad　night。　I　get　chills　thinking　about　it。〃　She　watched　him；　seeing　his　gaze　go　through　her　as　if　she　were　invisible。　She　picked　up　her　purse。　〃I　should　go。〃
　　〃Let　me　get　dressed　and　I'll　walk　you　down；〃　he　told　her　as　he　got　to　his　feet；　but　she　shook　her　head。
　　〃No　need。　I　be　all　right。　You　ever　want　to　see　me　again　I'll　be　down　by　the　tavern　somewhere；　but　I　figure　to　be　leaving　here　soon。〃　As　he　approached　her　she　reached　out　and　touched　his　hand。　It　was　as　cold　and　hard　as　stone。　She　smiled　again；　showing　teeth　sharpened　by　chewing　sugar　cane；　and　then　she　was　gone　out　the　door　and　along　High　Street。　She　headed　for　the　dark　village　below；　keeping　her　eyes　away　from　the　thing　lying　across　the　reef。　For　a　long　while　Moore　stood　in　the　doorway　and　watched　her　walk　away；　knowing　she'd　be　okay　but　wishing　all　the　while　he'd　gone　with　her　just　so　that　he　could　be　with　someone。　And　then　he　couldn't　see　her　anymore　and　he　closed　the　door。
　　He　felt　weary　suddenly；　and　after　a　while　he　turned　off　the　lights　and　climbed　the　stairs　in　darkness。
　　
　　On　Kiss　Bottom；　surf　surged　in　around　the　hulk；　hammering　at　iron；　foaming　in　and　then　back；　again　and　again。　A　dog　howled　in　the　village；　and　another　began　barking；　brokenly；　in　answer。
　　There　was　a　manta　ray　sailing　across　the　moon。
　　The　aged　black　fisherman　could　clearly　see　its　lines；　the　ridges　along　its　extended　wings；　the　long；　sweeping　tail　trailing　after　it。　It　was　a　big　one；　he　thought；　plenty　big　enough　bait　for　hungry　snappers。　As　he　watched；　the　wide　cloud　changed；　curled　in　upon　itself；　became　the　silver　image　of　a　flying　fish　reaching　for　a　height　its　ocean　brothers　could　only　dream　of。　Then　the　wings　melted　and　it　became　a　man's　face　with　an　open　mouth。　He　could　see　the　wide　eyes；　the　cheekbones；　the　point　of　a　chin。　But　there　was　fear　in　that　face；　and　as　he　continued　to　observe　the　cloud；　the　look　of　the　thing　frightened　him。　The　mouth　opened　wider；　wider；　in　the　outcry　of　one　who　has　seen　a　terrible　vision　but　does　not　yet　know　what　he　has　seen。　He　felt　the　breeze　knife　through　his　bones。　The　mouth；　opened　as　wide　as　possible；　suddenly　split　from　the　face　and　became　a　separate　cloud；　now　it　was　no　longer　a　face　but　something　grotesque　and　unrecognizable；　turning　in　on　itself　like　a　maddened　beast。
　　Abruptly　the　fisherman　turned　his　gaze　away。
　　There　was　a　sharp　bark；　then　a　subdued　growling。
　　〃Hey！〃　said　the　old　man。　〃Hey！　You　leave　them　be！〃
　　The　old　man's　terrier　mutt；　perched　on　top　of　the　fishing　skiff's　wet…well；　had　been　watching　the　bone…white　squid　as　they　darted　and　dived；　their　tentacles　tangling　together。　〃You　put　your　nose　in　there；　Coconut；〃　said　the　fisherman；　〃and　one　'o　them　boys　bite　it　off　sure　as　I　tells　you！〃
　　The　mutt　scampered　away　from　the　wet…well　and　to　the　stern；　where　his　master　sat　with　one　hand　on　the　tiller　of　a　small　trolling　motor。　〃I　ought　to　throw　you　to　the　merrimaids；〃　the　old　man　said；　feigning　disgust。
　　There　were　less　than　two　hours　until　first　light；　and　the　fat　squid　that　usually　rose　around　Kiss　Bottom　at　this　time　of　the　morning　were　nowhere　in　sight。　He　had　caught　what　he　could；　mesmerizing　the　fish　with　the　beam　of　a　flashlight　and　then　scooping　them　out；　twisting　and　coiled；　with　a　net。　He　could　tell　time　by　the　rise　of　the　squids；　and　in　twenty　years　of　foraging　them　from　the　reef　that　clock　had　never　been　off。　Where　were　they　this　morning？　He　sat　back　in　the　stern；　seeing　the　huge　angled　shape　just　ahead；　hearing　the　soft　thunder　of　the　sea　around　it。
　　It　was　that　bastard　scaring　the　squid　away。　Damned　thing　prob'ly　rustin'　into　the　sea；　and　the　squids　taste　the　rust　and　go　back　down　for　the　sweeter　depths。　He　had　seen　the　thing　wedged　onto　the　reef；　and　he'd　marveled　at　its　size。　He'd　never　seen　a　boat　like　that　before；　all　tight　and　sealed　shut。　How　did　the　captain　breathe；　or　any　of　the　crew？　Damn；　but　it　was　a　mystery！　His　wife　hadn't　wanted　him　to　go　out　this　morning；　but　in　all　of　twenty　years　only　the　storms　had　kept　him　from　squidding。　No　damned　rusting　shell　was　going　to　scare　him　off；　he'd　told　her。　〃And　besides；〃　he'd　said；　〃the　thing　is　dead。〃　〃No；　no；〃　she'd　told　him；　〃you　don't　know　nothin'　about　it。　I　was　here　then。　You　don't　know　'cause　you　came　after　it　was　over　and　done。〃
　　Superstitions。　They　was　all　the　time　eatin'　at　a　woman；　tryin'　to　get　at　a　man　too。　Not　that　he　didn't　listen　hard　to　the　winds　and　the　tides；　or　believe　in　the　power　of　Rev。　Boniface。　But　some　things…old　things　his　father　and　grandfather　had　sworn　by　a　long　time　ago…he　refused　to　put　his　faith　in。
　　The　water　hissed　along　the　thing's　spine　as　he　neared　it。　Damn　thing　got　a　nest　of　snakes　in　it；　he　thought。　He　looked　toward　the　towering　bow；　ran　his　gaze　past　the　rise　of　the　conning　tower。　The　boat　was　battered　pretty　bad；　but　no　algae　growths　marked　the　iron。　That　was　plenty　peculiar。　As　he　watched；　a　swell　rolled　across　the　stern　leaving　a　trail　of　dull　green　phosphorescence　and　brown　seaweed。　It　was　an　underwater　boat；　his　wife　had　told　him。　Something　bad　and　unnatural　about　it；　she'd　said。　How　could　it　stay　under　and　then　e　back　up　again？　He　shook　his　head。　It　was　a　mystery；　one　that　was　beyond　him。　Coconut　barked　sharply　again；　stirring　him　from　his　thoughts。
　　Strands　of　weed；　as　long　and　brown　as　a　woman's　hair；　rolled　across　the　reef。　His　skiff　was　jostled　by　swells；　and　he　put　a　hand　on　each　gunwale　to　steady　himself。　He　realized　he　was　getting　a　little　too　close　to　the　bommies；　and　he'd　had　a　skiff　peeled　open　before；　so　he　turned　his　tiller　to　get　away。　Across　the　reef　the　seaweed　swirled；　a　dance　of　the　morning　tides；　and　the　phosphorescence　gleamed　like　liquid　emeralds。
　　And　then；　as　if　from　a　distance；　came　a　low　grinding　noise。
　　The　old　man's　flesh　crawled；　beside　him　the　dog　jumped；　yipped。
　　Silence。　The　sea；　the　breezes　whining　around　broken　railings。
　　Coconut　began　to　bark　again。　〃Hush！　Hush；　I　said！〃　The　old　man　reached　down　for　his　flashlight　and　snapped　it　on；　pointing　it　into　the　water　at　the　submarine's　hull。
　　A　rush　of　foam　kept　him　from　seeing　anything；　he　moved　the　light　toward　the　stern；　his　mouth　suddenly　gone　dry。　Then　the　grinding　noise　returned；　full　force；　and　from　the　foam　came　a　clump　of　coral　and　weed　that　looked　like　a　decapitated　head。　Water　rolled　in；　hammering；　pulling。　At　first　he　didn't　understand；　but　as　he　followed　the　beam　of　the　lig