if.thunderball-第30部分

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th　cutlasses　and　fists。　He　wrote　home　regularly…to　his　mother　and　to　a　married　sister　who　lived　at　Dover。　They　wanted　him　to　e　home　and　meet　a　nice　girl　and　get　married。　But　he　wouldn't。　You　see；　he　was　keeping　himself　for　a　dream　girl　who　looked　rather　like　me。　And　then〃…she　laughed…　〃the　first　steamships　came　in　and　he　was　transferred　to　an　ironclad…that's　the　picture　of　it　on　the　right。　And　by　now　he　was　a　bosun；　whatever　that　is；　and　very　important。　And　he　saved　up　from　his　pay　and　instead　of　going　out　fighting　and　having　girls　he　grew　that　lovely　beard；　to　make　himself　look　older　and　more　important；　and　he　set　to　with　a　needle　and　colored　threads　to　make　that　picture　of　himself。　You　can　see　how　well　he　did　it…his　first　windjammer　and　his　last　ironclad　with　the　lifebuoy　as　a　frame。　He　only　finished　it　when　he　decided　to　leave　the　Navy。　He　didn't　really　like　steamships。　In　the　prime　of　life；　don't　you　agree？　And　even　then　he　ran　out　of　gold　thread　to　finish　the　rope　round　the　lifebuoy；　so　he　just　had　to　tail　it　off。　There；　you　can　see　on　the　right　where　the　rope　crosses　the　blue　line。　So　he　came　back　home　on　a　beautiful　golden　evening　after　a　wonderful　life　in　the　Navy　and　it　was　so　sad　and　beautiful　and　romantic　that　he　decided　that　he　would　put　the　beautiful　evening　into　another　picture。　So　he　bought　a　pub　at　Bristol　with　his　savings　and　in　the　mornings　before　the　pub　opened　he　worked　away　until　he　had　finished　and　there　you　can　see　the　little　sailing　ship　that　brought　him　home　from　Suez　with　his　duffel　bag　full　of　silks　and　seashells　and　souvenirs　carved　out　of　wood。　And　that's　the　Needles　Lighthouse　beckoning　him　in　to　harbor　on　that　beautiful　calm　evening。　Mark　you〃…she　frowned…〃I　don't　like　that　sort　of　bonnet　thing　he's　wearing　for　a　hat；　and　I'd　have　liked　him　to　have　put　‘H。M。S。'　before　the　‘Hero；'　but　you　can　see　that　would　have　made　it　lopsided　and　he　wouldn't　have　been　able　to　get　all　the　‘Hero'　in。　But　you　must　admit　it's　the　most　terrifically　romantic　picture。　I　cut　it　off　my　first　packet；　when　I　smoked　one　in　the　lavatory　and　felt　terribly　sick；　and　kept　it　until　it　fell　to　pieces。　Then　I　cut　off　a　fresh　one。　I　carried　him　with　me　always　until　things　went　wrong　and　I　had　to　go　back　to　Italy。　Then　I　couldn't　afford　Players。　They're　too　expensive　in　Italy　and　I　had　to　smoke　things　called　Nazionales。〃　Bond　wanted　to　keep　her　mood。　He　said；　〃But　what　happened　to　the　Hero's　pictures？　How　did　the　cigarette　people　get　hold　of　them？〃
　
　〃Oh；　well；　you　see　one　day　a　man　with　a　stovepipe　hat　and　a　frock　coat　came　into　the　Hero's　pub　with　two　small　boys。　Here。〃　She　held　the　packet　sideways。　〃Those　are　the　ones；　‘John　Player　&　Sons。'　You　see；　it　says　that　their　Successors　run　the　business　now。　Well　they　had　one　of　the　first　motor　cars；　a　Rolls　Royce；　and　it　had　broken　down　outside　the　Hero's　pub。　The　man　in　the　stovepipe　hat　didn't　drink；　of　course…those　sort　of　people　didn't；　not　the　respectable　merchants　who　lived　near　Bristol。　So　he　asked　for　ginger　beer　and　bread　and　cheese　while　his　chauffeur　mended　the　car。　And　the　hero　got　it　for　them。　And　Mr。　John　Player　and　the　boys　all　admired　the　two　wonderful　tapestry　pictures　hanging　on　the　wall　of　the　pub。　Now　this　Mr。　Player　was　in　the　tobacco　and　snuff　business　and　cigarettes　had　just　been　invented　and　he　wanted　to　start　making　them。　But　he　couldn't　for　the　life　of　him　know　what　to　call　them　or　what　sort　of　a　picture　to　put　on　the　packet。　And　he　suddenly　had　a　wonderful　idea。　When　he　got　back　to　the　factory　he　talked　to　his　manager　and　the　manager　came　along　to　the　pub　and　saw　the　Hero　and　offered　him　a　hundred　pounds　to　let　his　two　pictures　be　copied　for　the　cigarette　packet。　And　the　Hero　didn't　mind　and　anyway　he　wanted　just　exactly　a　hundred　pounds　to　get　married　on。〃　She　paused。　Her　eyes　were　far　away。　〃She　was　very　nice；　by　the　way；　only　thirty　and　a　good　plain　cook　and　her　young　body　kept　him　warm　in　bed　until　he　died　many　years　later。　And　she　bore　him　two　children；　a　boy　and　a　girl。　And　the　boy　went　into　the　Navy　like　his　father。　Well；　anyway；　Mr。　Player　wanted　to　have　the　Hero　in　the　lifebuoy　on　one　side　of　the　packet　and　the　beautiful　evening　on　the　other。　But　the　manager　pointed　out　that　that　would　leave　no　room　for　all　this〃…she　turned　over　the　packet…〃about　‘Rich；　Cool；'　and　‘Navy　Cut　Tobacco'　and　that　extraordinary　trademark　of　a　doll's　house　swimming　in　chocolate　fudge　with　Nottingham　Castle　written　underneath。　So　then　Mr。　Player　said；　‘Well　then；　we'll　put　one　on　top　of　the　other。'　And　that's　just　exactly　what　they　did　and　I　must　say　I　think　it　fits　in　very　well；　don't　you？　Though　I　expect　the　Hero　was　pretty　annoyed　at　the　mermaid　being　blanked　out。〃
　
　〃The　mermaid？〃
　
　〃Oh；　yes。　Underneath　the　bottom　er　of　the　lifebuoy　where　it　dips　into　the　sea；　the　Hero　had　put　a　tiny　mermaid　bing　her　hair　with　one　hand　and　beckoning　him　home　with　the　other。　That　was　supposed　to　be　the　woman　he　was　going　to　find　and　marry。　But　you　can　see　there　wasn't　room　and　anyway　her　breasts　were　showing　and　Mr。　Player；　who　was　a　very　strong　Quaker；　didn't　think　that　was　quite　proper。　But　he　made　it　up　to　the　Hero　in　the　end。〃
　
　〃Oh；　how　did　he　do　that？〃
　
　〃Well　you　see　the　cigarettes　were　a　great　success。　It　was　really　the　picture　that　did　it。　People　decided　that　anything　with　a　wonderful　picture　like　that　on　the　outside　must　be　good　and　Mr。　Player　made　a　fortune　and　I　expect　his　Successors　did　too。　So　when　the　Hera　was　getting　old　and　hadn't　got　long　to　live；　Mr。　Player　had　a　copy　of　the　lifebuoy　picture　drawn　by　the　finest　artist　of　the　day。　It　was　just　the　same　as　the　Hero's　except　that　it　wasn't　in　color　and　it　showed　him　very　much　older；　and　he　promised　the　Hero　that　this　picture　too　would　always　be　on　his　cigarette　packets；　only　on　the　inside　bit。　Here。〃　She　pushed　out　the　cardboard　container。　〃You　see　how　old　he　looks？　And　one　other　thing；　if　you　look　closely；　the　flags　on　the　two　ships　are　flying　at　half　mast。　Rather　sweet　of　Mr。　Player；　don't　you　think；　to　ask　the　artist　for　that。　It　meant　that　the　Hero's　first　and　last　ship　were　remembering　him。　And　Mr。　Player　and　his　two　sons　came　and　presented　it　to　him　just　before　he　died。　It　must　have　made　it　much　easier　for　him；　don't　you　think？〃
　
　〃It　certainly　must。　Mr。　Player　must　have　been　a　very　thoughtful　man。〃
　
　The　girl　was　slowly　returning　from　her　dreamland。　She　said　in　a　different；　rather　prim　voice；　〃Well；　thank　you　anyway　for　having　listened　to　the　story。　I　know　it's　all　a　fairy　tale。　At　least　I　suppose　it　is。　But　children　are　stupid　in　that　way。　They　like　to　have　something　to　keep　under　the　pillow　until　they're　quite　grown　up…a　rag　doll　or　a　small　toy　or　something。　I　know　that　boys　are　just　the　same。　My　brother　hung　on　to　a　little　metal　charm　his　nanny　had　given　him　until　he　was　nineteen。　Then　he　lost　it。　I　shall　never　forget　the　scenes　he　made。　Even　though　he　was　in　the　Air　Force　by　then　and　it　was　the　middle　of　the　war。　He　said　it　brought　him　luck。〃　She　shrugged　her　shoulders。　There　was　sarcasm　in　her　voice　as　she　said；　〃He　needn't　have　worried。　He　did　all　right。　He　was　much　older　than　me；　but　I　adored　him。　I　still　do。　Girls　always　love　crooks；　particularly　if　they're　their　brother。　He　did　so　well　that　he　might　have　done　something　for　me。　But　he　never　did。　He　said　that　life　was　every　man　for　himself。　He　said　that　his　grandfather　had　been　so　famous　as　a　poacher　and　a　smuggler　in　the　Dolomites　that　his　was　the　finest　tombstone　among　all　the　Petacchi　graves　in　the　graveyard　at　Bolzano。　My　brother　said　he　was　going　to　have　a　finer　one　still；　and　by　making　money　the　same　way。〃　Bond　held　his　cigarette　steady。　He　took　a　long　draw　at　it　and　let　the　smoke　out　with　a　quiet　hiss。　〃Is　your　family　name　Petacchi；　then？〃
　
　〃Oh；　yes。　Vitali　is　only　a　stage　name。　It　sounded　better　so　I　changed　it。　Nobody　knows　the　other。　I've　almost　forgotten　it　myself。　I've　called　myself　Vitali　since　I　came　back　to　Italy。　I　wanted　to　change　everything。〃
　
　〃What　happened　to　your　brother？　What　was　his　first　name？〃　〃Giuseppe。　He　went　wrong　in　various　ways。　But　he　was　a　wonderful　flyer。　Last　time　I　heard　of　him　he'd　been　given　some　high…up　job　in　Paris。　Perhaps　that'll　make　him　settle　down。　I　pray　every　night　that　it　will。　He's　all　I've　got。　I　love　him　in　spite　of　everything。　You　understand　that？〃
　
　Bond　stabbed　out　his　cigarette　in　the　ashtray。　He　called　for　the　bill。　He　said；　〃Yes；　I　understand　that。〃
　
　16。　Swimming　the　Gantlet
　
　The　dark　water　below　the　police　wharf　sucked　and　kissed　at　the　rusty　iron　stanchions。　In　the　latticed　shadows　cast　through　the　ironwork　by　the　three…quarter　moon；　Constable　Santos　heaved　the　single　aqualung　cylinder　up　onto　Bond's　back　and　Bond　secured　the　webbing　at　his　waist　so　that　it　would　not　snarl　the　strap　of　Leiter's　second　Geiger　counter；　the　underwater　model。　He　fitted　the　rubber　mouthpiece　between　his　teeth　and　adjusted　the　valve　release　until　the　air　supply　was　just　right。　He　turned　off　the　supply　and　took　out　the　mouthpiece。　The　music　of　the　steel　band　in　the　Junkanoo　night　club　tripped　gaily　out　over　the　water。　It　sounded　like　a　giant　spider　dancing　on　a　tenor　xylophone。
　
　Santos　was　a　huge　colored　man；　naked　except　for　his　swimming　trunks；　with　pectoral　muscles　the　size　of　dinner　plates。　Bond　said；　〃What　should　I　expect　to　see　at　this　time　of　night？　Any　big　fish　about？〃
　
　Santos　grinned。　〃Usual　harbor　stuff；　sah。　Some　barracuda　perhaps。　Mebbe　a　shark。　But　they's　lazy　an'　overfed　with　the　refuse　an　muck　from　de　drains。　Dey　won't　trouble　you…less　you　bleedin'　that　is。　They'll　be　night…crawlin'　things　on　the　bottom…lobster；　crab；　mebbe　a　small　pus…feller　or　two。　The　bottom's　mostly　seagrass　on　bits　o'　iron　from　wrecks　an　plenty　of　bottle　and　suchlike。　Mucky；　if　you　get　me；　sah。　But　the　water's　clear　and　you'll　be　hokay　with　this　moon　and　the　lights　from　the　Disco　to　guide　you。　Tek　you　bout　twelve；　fifteen　minute；　I'da　say。　Funny　ting。　I　been　lookin'　for　an　hour　and　dere's　no　watchman　on　deck　an　no　one　in　the　wheelhouse。　An　the　bit　o'　breeze　should　hide　you　bubbles。　Coulda　give　you　an　oxygen　rebreather；　but　ah　doan　like　dem　tings。　Them　dangerous。〃
　
　〃All　right；　let's　go　then。　See　you　in　about　half　an　hour。〃　Bond　felt　for　the　knife　at　his　waist；　shifted　the　web