rm.thenightboat-第19部分

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　　〃Just　a　minute；〃　Kip　said　quietly；　moving　his　light　past　Moore。　He　focused　the　beam　on　a　pile　of　timbers　that　lay　on　the　forward　deck　near　the　hatch。　A　coil　of　cable　sat　against　the　conning　tower；　on　the　port…side　deck。　He　didn't　recall　seeing　either　the　cable　or　the　timbers　earlier　that　morning；　but　then；　he　couldn't　remember　anything　very　clearly　except　the　dead　man's　face　breaking　water。　He　moved　his　light　over　the　cable；　then　back　to　the　wood。　The　timbers　looked　as　though　they'd　been　stacked　there；　haphazardly。　Kip　probed　with　the　light　back　in　the　far　shadows；　where　the　carpentry　section　had　been。　The　timber　had　been　over　there　the　last　time　he'd　seen　it。　Or　had　it　been？　He　couldn't　remember。　As　his　light　brushed　the　mound　of　crates　and　rags　red　eyes　glittered　and　they　heard　the　sound　of　high；　panicked　squealing。
　　〃What's　wrong？〃　Moore　asked　him。
　　Kip　shook　his　head。　〃Nothing。〃　He　stepped　into　the　darkness；　away　from　the　warm　sunlight；　and　Moore　followed　him　across　the　gangplank　onto　the　U…boat's　deck。　Moore　stepped　into　something；　and　drawing　back　with　his　flashlight　he　saw　a　little　heap　under　the　looming　bulk　of　the　tower。　There　were　small　shattered　bones；　grisly　whiskered　heads；　curled　black　tails。　A　mound　of　offal；　of　mangled　things　that　had　been　fat　wharf　rats。　Glassy　gelatinous　eyes　caught　the　light　and　Moore　quickly　looked　away；　stepping　over　them。　A　cat　must　somehow　have　gotten　in　and　out　of　the　shelter。
　　Clots　of　blood　marked　the　area　where　the　young　man　had　been　killed　at　the　yawning　circular　hole。　Kip　played　his　light　across　them；　the　splatters　looked　like　brown　paint　flung　wildly　from　a　brush。　Beneath　them　the　plankings　creaked　softly；　and　the　rustling　of　the　rats　filled　the　shelter　with　echoes。
　　And　then　the　two　men　aimed　their　lights　down　into　the　hole。
　　A　ladder　descended　into　the　boat；　but　there　seemed　no　room　to　move　around　in　there。　Moore　bent　lower　and　shined　his　light　in　at　varying　angles。　Pipes；　bare　bulkheads；　thick　bundles　of　cables；　all　illuminated　briefly　and　then　reclaimed　by　the　dark。　Beneath　the　opening　he　could　see　rusted　floor　platings　and　a　sheen　of　water　perhaps　three　inches　deep。　He　saw　his　reflection　there；　a　shadow　without　form　or　face。
　　Kip；　his　teeth　clenched　around　the　match；　his　breath　ing　in　short　gasps；　lowered　himself　carefully　through　the　opening；　his　feet　groping　below　for　the　rungs。　He　stepped　onto　the　floor　plates；　splashing　water；　and　waited　for　Moore　to　join　him。
　　They　stood　in　a　narrow；　cramped　chamber　filled　with　pipes；　flywheels；　and　plex　machinery。　Kip　swung　his　light　around　and　motioned。　There　were　four　sealed　torpedo　tubes　at　the　bow；　with　hatches　the　size　of　upended　kettle　drums。　Two　torpedoes　seemed　to　rise　up　from　the　floor　plates　on　iron　tracks；　thick　clumps　of　dried　black　grease；　veined　with　a　greenish　fungus；　clotted　the　tracks；　but　the　torpedoes　themselves　seemed　almost　clean。　Moore　ran　a　hand　along　one　of　them。
　　〃Careful；〃　Kip　cautioned；　the　sound　of　his　voice　an　eerie　noise　that　rang　from　one　bulkhead　to　the　next。　He　moved　his　light　again；　illuminating　the　thin；　fungus…coated　mattresses　which　had　been　hung　on　chains　so　they　could　be　folded　back　when　not　in　use。　A　narrow　path　led　between　the　bunks　into　the　black　guts　of　the　U…boat。　Beneath　the　bottom　bunks　were　more　torpedoes；　secured　in　place　with　metal　clamps。　Kip　shined　his　light　on　the　bulkheads；　there　were　photographs；　badly　faded　and　hardly　recognizable；　still　in　place　among　the　mattresses。　A　young　dark…haired　woman　stood　in　the　midst　of　an　amusement　park；　smiling；　a　middle…aged　man　and　woman　embraced　on　a　bench　with　a　fountain　in　the　background；　there　was　a　postcardlike　photo　of　a　huge　house　surrounded　by　woods；　a　pretty　blond　woman　stood　on　skis；　against　a　backdrop　of　snow…covered　mountains；　and　waved　to　a　lost　love。
　　The　lights　revealed　crates　stowed　in　every　possible　nook　and　cranny。　A　bucket　had　overturned；　spilling　out　something　that　resembled　thick；　whitish　globs。　Everything　was　covered　with　the　sickly　hues　of　decay；　a　shoe；　caught　in　the　miniature　swells　made　by　the　men's　movements；　bumped　against　one　of　the　stored　torpedoes。　Moore　lowered　his　flashlight　and　saw　what　was　left　of　a　shirt；　coiled　like　an　octopus　in　a　shadowy　corner。　Moore　thought：　And　what　happened　to　whoever　wore　that？
　　Kip　sloshed　through　the　water；　bent　down　and　picked　at　the　shirt。　It　fell　into　pieces　in　his　hand；　covering　his　fingers　with　a　yellowish　residue。　He　held　a　scrap　of　it　before　the　light　as　if　mesmerized　by　it；　and　then　abruptly　let　it　drop　back　into　the　water。　The　shirt　fragments　floated　out　of　sight　beneath　a　bunk。　Kip　wiped　his　hand　on　a　trouser　leg。
　　A　passageway　stretched　ahead　of　them。　The　air　seemed　putrid　and　thick　here；　Kip　found　it　difficult　to　draw　a　full　breath。　There　had　probably　been　no　air　at　all　in　here　until　that　hatch　was　torched　through；　and　not　enough　had　circulated　yet。　Over　the　graveyard　stench　there　was　another　odor：　cloying；　sickly　sweet；　harsh　on　the　lungs。　Some　kind　of　noxious　gas？　Something　that　had　been　collecting　inside　here　for　forty…odd　years？　Kip　waited　until　Moore's　light　caught　up　with　his　and　then　he　crouched　forward；　ducking　under　pipes；　and　started　into　the　corridor。　The　darkness　seemed　to　gnaw　away　at　the　lights；　and　up　ahead　small　shadows　scurried　for　safety。　The　men　couldn't　walk　side…by…side　because　the　corridor　wasn't　wide　enough。　It　was　like　crawling　down　the　throat　of　a　huge　beast　into　the　sodden　entanglement　of　tissues　and　organs　and　bone。　〃Jesus；〃　Moore　said　softly；　hearing　his　voice　jump　back　at　him；　〃it's　hard　to　breathe　in　here。　It's　a　claustrophobic's　nightmare。〃
　　There　was　a　large　central　pipe　above　them　that　wound　its　way　through　the　boat　like　a　rusted　spine。　Kip　shined　his　light　through　one　of　the　openings　off　to　the　side；　toward　a　cramped　storage　space　filled　with　crates；　two　more　bare　mattresses；　and　a　table　bolted　to　the　floor　plates。　A　row　of　white　shirts　hung　from　the　ceiling；　and　more　lay　in　water。　He　moved　on；　his　shoes　stirring　swirls　of　rust　and　filth　from　the　plates。
　　The　crewmen　had　gone　about　their　duties　here；　all　part　of　the　efficient　mechanism；　like　cogs　in　a　terrible　weapon。　But　how　they　managed　to　keep　their　sanity　in　this　place　day　after　day；　week　after　week　was　beyond　prehension。　The　smell　of　humanity；　of　sweat；　of　cigarette　smoke　and　urine　mingled　with　the　stenches　of　diesel　oil　and　fuel　must　have　been　all　but　overpowering。　Even　now　Moore　felt　trapped；　as　if　the　bulkheads　and　ceiling　were　gradually　closing　in　on　him；　and　he　was　walking　downhill　instead　of　straight　ahead。　What　had　started　as　an　irritation　had　bee　a　raw　burning　at　the　back　of　his　throat；　and　when　he　drew　in　a　guarded　half…breath　his　lungs　were　seared。　He　heard　Kip　cough　violently　once；　then　again。
　　Moore　leaned　inside　the　next　opening；　probing　with　the　flashlight　as　Kip　moved　on　ahead。　On　a　metal　table　there　was　a　radio　console；　a　set　of　headphones　dangled　from　wires；　and　a　chair　had　been　overturned。　The　shadows　were　deep　and　thick；　clinging　to　the　corners　like　solid　cobwebs；　they　resisted　the　thin　spear　of　light。　Rising　off　the　rotted　debris　in　the　water　was　that　terrible　crypt　smell；　dry　and　sweet。　Moore　drew　back；　inhaling　sharply。　He　was　about　to　rejoin　Kip　when　he　thought　he　heard　something　move。
　　He　froze；　listening。
　　There　was　only　the　sound　of　Kip　moving　ahead；　sloshing　water。　The　echoes　were　merging；　doubling　and　tripling；　vibrating　full　force　off　the　bulkheads。　Moore　flashed　his　light　into　that　radio　room　again。　A　pulpy　mass　bumped　against　the　back　of　the　chair；　and　it　took　him　another　moment　to　realize　it　was　more　torn　rat　carcasses；　entrails　floating　behind。　Rats　down　here？　What　had　they　done；　gotten　down　into　the　boat　after　the　hatch　had　been　opened；　lured　by　the　smells　of　fetid　food？　But　they　were　all　mangled；　ripped　to　pieces　like　the　ones　piled　on　the　deck。　He　shuddered。　How　had　that　occurred？　What　in　God's　name　had　done　that？
　　Moore　backed　away　from　the　cabin；　feeling　the　ooze　of　the　water　at　his　feet；　he　shined　the　light　back　in　the　direction　they'd　e。　The　sound　he'd　heard　had　been　the　noise　of　something　moving　back　down　the　passageway；　he　knew　he　hadn't　imagined　it。　He　kept　his　light　steady　for　a　few　more　seconds；　and　then　he　began　to　move　toward　his　friend。
　　Kip　was　examining　the　filth　that　floated　around　him：　articles　of　tattered　clothing…shirts；　underwear；　shoes…empty　crates。　There　was　part　of　a　magazine；　showing　a　picture　of　a　girl　coyly　hiking　a　skirt　up　over　a　thigh。　There　was　a　date　on　it：　November　1941。　Racy　stuff　for　that　time；　Kip　thought。　He　was　about　to　move　on　when　a　feeling　of　dizziness　swept　over　him；　he　thrust　a　hand　out　against　iron　to　keep　himself　from　failing　face…forward。　Black　spots　swirled　before　his　eyes　and　his　lungs　seemed　filled　with　fire。
　　Moore　caught　his　shoulder。　〃Are　you　all　right？〃
　　〃Just　a　minute；〃　Kip　said　thickly；　trying　to　catch　his　breath。　〃There's　bad　air　in　here；　David。〃　He　shook　his　head；　waiting　for　the　spots　to　clear。　〃Okay。　I'm　better　now。〃
　　〃Can　you　go　on？〃
　　Kip　nodded；　looking　ahead。　Beyond　the　narrow　beams　of　light　the　darkness　was　clinging　and　ominous；　like　something　hideous　and　alive。　On　either　side；　fungus　and　rust　had　scrawled　strange　multicolored　patterns。　The　boat　was　a　fester　of　decay。　Moore　felt　filthy　and　contaminated；　his　throat　was　burning　but　he　made　an　effort　to　suppress　the　urge　to　cough。　Oddly；　he　feared　making　more　noise　than　was　necessary。　The　lack　of　oxygen　and　the　fumes　were　beginning　to　take　their　toll。
　　Kip　was　sweating　profusely；　the　droplets　running　down　his　arms　and　beading　up　on　his　face。　He　wiped　his　forehead　with　the　back　of　his　hand；　wondering　what　it　was　that　frightened　him　so　much　about　being　inside　here。　It　was　only　a　machine。。。　a　machine　of　war；　yes。。。　but　now　only　a　dilapidated　relic　of　days　past。　It　was　not　the　closeness　of　the　place；　or　the　darkness；　or　the　sense　of　being　buried　alive。　No。　It　was　something　else；　a　sixth　sense　he　had　and　had　possessed　all　his　life；　that　was　now　trying　to　whisper　to　him；　to　reach　into　his　soul　and　shake　it。
　　Kip's　light　moved　past　more　openings　on　each　side　and　came　to　rest　on　the　outline　of　a　sealed　iron　hatch　farther　down　the　passage。
　　His　legs　began　moving；　slugg