rm.thenightboat-第5部分

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　　〃What　you　want；　mon？〃　Mason　asked　him。
　　And　when　the　other　man　looked　up；　intending　to　ask　for　three　cards；　his　gaze　froze。
　　The　sea　was　boiling　like　a　hot　cauldron　out　in　the　Abyss；　just　beyond　where　Moore's　skiff　lay。　Percy　could　see　the　great　turbulence　of　it。　Something　was　wrong。　Bad　wrong。　He　dropped　his　cards；　rose　up　from　the　battery　crates　he'd　been　perched　upon。　He　pointed。　〃What　the　hell's　that？〃
　　Mason　twisted　around；　narrowed　his　eyes。　〃Jesus；〃　he　said；　quietly。
　　The　men　could　see　foam　crashing　over　the　skiff；　it　was　jerked　down　the　side　of　a　wave；　then　bobbed　back　into　view　again。　And　as　they　watched；　spellbound；　they　saw　a　massive　shape　burst　from　the　sea　in　a　white　geyser　of　water。　They　thought　at　first　it　was　a　whale　emerging　from　the　depths　but　then　the　sun　glinted　sharply　off　what　appeared　to　be　a　hard　surface；　the　thing　rocked　back　and　forth　as　the　ocean　continued　to　churn　around　it。
　　〃Damn！〃　Mason　said；　leaping　up　from　his　seat。　He　put　a　hand　across　his　forehead　to　shield　his　eyes　from　the　reflection　and　stared。
　　〃J。R。！〃　Percy　shouted；　cupping　his　hands　around　his　mouth。　The　hammering　ceased　and　a　man　appeared　at　the　shelter　entrance。　〃GET　OUT　HERE　QUICK！〃
　　On　the　Abyss　rim；　Moore　clung　to　the　skiff　gunwale。　He　was　trying　to　sort　out　what　had　happened；　dazed　because　it　had　happened　so　quickly。　One　moment　he　had　been　digging　on　the　great　mountain　of　sand；　the　next　he　had　been　gripping　that　depth　charge；　the　next　scrabbling　wildly　away　as　the　charge　hurtled　into　the　depths。　He　wasn't　bleeding　anywhere；　but　his　flesh　felt　raw　and　bruised　and　his　head　ached　fiercely。　And　then；　as　he　stared　at　the　hulk　that　had　begun　its　eerie　movement　with　the　currents；　he　realized　what　he'd　been　trying　to　dig　out：　the　uppermost　portion　of　a　periscope。　He'd　been　digging　above　the　mass　of　the　submarine；　it　had　been　buried　beneath　the　tons　of　rock　and　sand；　and　the　explosion　had　ripped　it　free。
　　Moore　unfastened　his　straps　and　heaved　his　tank　over　into　the　boat's　bottom。　Then　he　painfully　pulled　himself　over；　his　muscles　tight　and　unyielding；　and　quickly　cranked　up　the　anchor　with　the　hand　winch。
　　He　laid　the　anchor　in　the　bow；　started　up　his　motor；　and　swung　the　skiff　around　to　follow　in　the　thing's　wake。
　　He　drew　up　alongside　it　off　the　starboard　beam；　keeping　well　away　in　case　it　suddenly　turned　or　heeled　over　for　the　bottom。　It　was　riding　low；　the　waves　sliding　across　the　bow　and　crashing　with　a　hollow　boom　against　the　conning　tower。　A　mass　of　black　cables　and　wires；　secured　to　the　forward　deck；　writhed　like　angry　snakes。　The　paint　was　almost　pletely　scoured　away　to　reveal　the　dark；　sea…weathered　iron；　but　here　and　there　remained　patches　of　rust…colored　primer　and　even　the　original　dingy　gray。　Moore　could　almost　have　sworn　the　old　relic　was　operating　under　its　own　power；　so　straight　was　its　direction；　but　of　course　the　thing　was　long　deserted…there　was　no　noise　of　racketing　diesels；　only　the　relentless　pounding　of　the　sea。　He　turned　the　tiller　a　few　degrees；　moved　in　for　a　closer　look。　From　the　distance　of　only　a　few　yards　he　could　see　the　rivets　in　the　conning…tower　plates；　and　the　sight　was　oddly　disturbing。　The　plates　looked　like　scales　on　a　huge；　prehistoric　reptile。　A　cable　as　thick　as　Moore's　arm　hung　down　across　the　tower　bulwark；　slapping　iron。　He　recalled　a　picture　he'd　seen　in　an　encyclopedia　as　a　child：　a　black…finned　monster　rearing　high　above　storm…tossed　waves　to　snap　its　jagged　teeth　through　the　neck　of　a　pterodactyl。
　　He　was　entranced　by　the　thing；　lost　in　its　aura　of　power　and　ancient　menace。　In　another　few　moments　he　heard　the　noise　of　the　sea　rushing　around　the　Kiss　Bottom　reefheads；　there　were　figures　standing　on　the　fishing　wharfs　and　beach；　others　watching　from　the　boatyard。　The　submarine　began　to　turn；　almost　imperceptibly；　for　the　opening　in　the　reef；　drawn　by　the　influx　of　water　there。　Moore　turned　his　skiff　to　avoid　scraping　across　a　gnarled；　green…slimed　bommie；　then　found　himself　in　the　midst　of　jagged　reefheads。　Someone　shouted　something　from　the　fishing　wharfs；　but　Moore　couldn't　hear。　The　hulk　looked　like　it　might　pass　unscathed　through　the　reef　into　Coquina's　tranquil　harbor；　but　then　he　heard　a　loud　grinding　of　iron　across　coral。　Sea　foamed　at　the　bow；　and　the　forward　deck　began　to　rise。　The　currents　were　driving　the　hulk　across　the　reef；　bits　of　coral　shattered　and　collapsed　under　the　thing's　weight。　The　submarine　shuddered；　grinding　forward；　the　bow　rising　out　of　the　sea　like　a　knife's　black　blade。　And　then；　abruptly；　the　grinding　noise　stopped。　The　submarine　was　wedged　on　Kiss　Bottom；　its　bow　out　of　the　water　but　its　stern　deck　still　awash。　Moore　could　clearly　see　the　closed　vents　of　the　two　forward　torpedo　tubes　on　the　starboard　side；　and　a　chill　touched　the　flesh　at　the　back　of　his　neck。
　　There　was　more　shouting　from　shore；　but　Moore　wasn't　paying　attention。　Gulls　swooped　down　from　the　blue；　they　circled；　screaming；　above　the　hulk；　then　sailed　away　on　their　currents　of　air　as　if　disdaining　contact　with　the　thing。　Moore　drew　nearer；　the　submarine　loomed　above　him；　angled　crazily；　now　motionless。　As　the　breeze　swept　across　it　he　caught　the　stench　of　age；　of　a　slow　decay；　it　smelled　to　him　like　the　carcass　of　a　pilot　whale　that　had　beached　itself　in　a　directionless　search　for　the　sea。　Moore's　skiff　moved　into　the　submarine's　shadow；　and　it　towered　over　him。　He　cut　his　motor；　tied　a　line　onto　the　collapsed　deck　railing；　and　with　a　smooth；　powerful　movement；　pulled　himself　up　the　railing　to　the　submarine's　deck。
　　Part　of　the　forward　deck　had　caved　in；　he　could　see　where　the　deck　plankings　had　given　way。　There　was　still　a　lot　of　sand　left　aboard；　it　slithered　with　quiet　hissing　sounds　around　Moore's　feet　and　lay　in　clumps　among　the　twistings　of　cables。　Just　forward　of　the　conning　tower　there　was　a　deck　gun；　still　firm　on　its　mount　and　apparently　in　good　shape　but　for　the　wet　sand　that　dripped　from　its　muzzle。　Moore　moved　toward　the　bow；　walking　gingerly　on　the　slippery　planking。　He　reached　the　deck　gun　and　hung　on　to　it。　Forward　of　the　gun　was　the　square　outline　of　a　deck　hatch　which　appeared　to　be　secured。　Ahead　of　him　the　bow's　sharp　spear　challenged　the　sky；　railings　were　twisted　and　broken；　iron　scarred　and　gouged。　He　left　the　gun　and　worked　his　way　forward　as　if　climbing　a　steep　hill。　When　he　glanced　back　he　saw　the　gun's　bore；　black　and　deadly　looking。
　　He　had　taken　only　another　step　when　the　planking　gave　way　beneath　him。　As　he　slid　through　the　hole　he　reached　out；　grasping　a　cable；　it　held　and　he　pulled　himself　back　up　on　deck；　his　heart　hammering。　Through　the　splintered　opening　Moore　saw　a　gleaming；　massive　metal　tube。　He　knew　very　little　about　submarines；　but　he　figured　that　the　tube；　protected　by　the　iron　and　timber　of　the　superstructure；　was　actually　where　the　guts　of　the　boat　lay。　The　pressure　hull；　he　remembered　it　was　called；　was　resistant　to　the　great　depths　at　which　these　boats　had　moved。　Along　the　iron　sides　of　the　superstructure；　the　shell　that　protected　the　intestines；　were　dozens　of　ducts　that　allowed　the　water　to　stream　in；　cushioning　the　pressure　hull。　The　engines；　the　control　room；　the　crew's　quarters；　all　the　other　partments　and　stations　necessary　to　the　submarine's　operation　were　inside　that　tube。　It　looked　smaller　than　he　would　have　imagined。　How　many　men　would　have　manned　this　thing？　Twenty…five？　Thirty？　Fifty？　It　seemed　impossible　that　they　could　have　found　space　to　move。
　　Now　there　was　only　the　noise　of　the　sea　swirling　across　the　submerged　aft　deck；　a　series　of　whispers　and　groans。
　　A　dead　relic；　Moore　thought；　staring　at　the　mass　of　the　conning　tower。　He　saw　above　it　the　periscope　he'd　been　trying　to　dig　out。　There　was　a　second　shaft　that　looked　like　another　periscope；　but　this　was　battered　and　slightly　bent　to　one　side。　As　the　sun　baked　down；　the　smell　of　decay　rose　all　around　him。　When　did　this　thing　go　down？　he　wondered；　and　what　boat　was　it？　There　were　no　identifying　symbols　or　numbers；　if　there　had　ever　been　any；　the　sand　had　scraped　them　off。　He　felt　like　a　fly　crawling　along　the　maw　of　a　crocodile　that　had　e　up　to　sun　itself　on　the　rocks。　Why；　he　wondered；　did　he　sense　something　living　about　this　boat　now　so　long　dead？
　　Moore　heard　the　distant　pounding　of　engines。　At　first　the　sound　chilled　him　until　he　looked　toward　the　harbor　and　saw　one　of　the　beat…up　old　fishing　trawlers　approaching　with　men　at　the　gunwales。　A　cluster　of　islanders　had　gathered　on　the　wharfs；　and　children　were　running　up　and　down　the　beach　as　if　at　some　kind　of　festive　celebration。　He　waved　a　hand　at　the　trawler　and　a　man　at　the　bow　waved　back。
　　The　trawler；　its　engines　rumbling；　pulled　up　alongside；　two　brawny　islanders　leaped　over　onto　the　submarine's　deck。　Lines　were　thrown　and　secured；　an　anchor　chain　rattled　down　and　a　gangplank　was　tied　into　place　between　the　trawler　and　the　hulk。　Most　of　the　men　seemed　reluctant　to　e　aboard　but　one；　a　broad…shouldered　black　wearing　a　dark…blue　cotton　shirt　and　khaki　trousers；　crossed　the　gangplank　and　came　over　to　Moore；　avoiding　the　holes　that　gaped　in　the　planks。
　　The　man　was　not　quite　as　tall　as　Moore　but　stockier；　with　iron…gray　hair　and　a　firm；　chiseled　face。　He　looked　into　the　white　man's　eyes　and　then　gazed　the　length　of　the　thing；　as　if　unsure　of　what　he　was　seeing。
　　〃It　came　up　from　the　Abyss；〃　Moore　said；　still　shaken。
　　〃Christ　Jesus！〃　The　black　shook　his　head；　peering　down　with　deep…set；　wary　eyes　through　the　broken　planking　at　the　pressure　hull。　〃Tell　me　what　happened。〃
　　〃I　was　salvaging；　looking　for　stuff　off　that　freighter　down　there。　This　was　buried　beneath　a　mound　of　sand　and　coral；　there　was　an　explosion。。。〃
　　〃An　explosion？〃　He　looked　up；　sharply。
　　〃An　old　depth　charge。　The　shock　blew　it　free；　and　this　thing　corked　for　the　surface。　God　only　knows　how　long　it's　been　under　there。〃
　　〃You're　okay？〃
　　Moore　nodded。　〃Got　a　hell　of　a　headache　and　my　ears　are　ringing　like　Sunday　at　the　Vatican；　but　mostly　the　bastard　just　scared　hell　out　of　me。〃
　　〃I've　told　you　before　about　diving　in　the　Abyss；　David；〃　said　the　man　in　a　West　Indian　accent　polished　with　a　British　veneer。　Steven　Kip　had　been　Coquina's　constable　of　police　for　some　seven　years。　He