alistairmaclean.nightwithoutend-第6部分

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　I　looked　across　at　the　left…hand　side　of　the　cabin。　It　was　almost　pletely　undamaged　and　the　chief　pilot；　still　strapped　in　his　seat　and　slumped　against　his　sidescreens；　seemed　quite　unmarked。　I　stripped　fur　glove；　mitten　and　silk　glove　off　my　right　hand；　reached　out　and　touched　the　forehead。　We　had　been　out　of　doors　now　for　over　fifteen　minutes　in　that　ferocious　cold；　and　I　would　have　sworn　that　my　hand　was　about　as　cold　as　the　human　flesh　could　get。　But　I　was　wrong。　I　pulled　the　gloves　back　on　and　turned　away；　without　touching　him　further。　I　wasn't　carrying　out　any　autopsies　that　night。
　
　A　few　feet　farther　back　we　found　the　radio　operator　in　his　partment。　He　was　half…sitting；　half…lying　against　the　for'ard　bulkhead　of　his　shack　where　he　must　have　been　catapulted　by　the　crash。　His　right　hand　was　still　clutched　firmly　round　the　handgrip　of　the　front　panel　of　his　radio　set…it　must　have　been　ripped　clear　off　the　transmitter；　which　didn't　look　as　if　it　would　ever　transmit　anything　again。
　
　On　the　bulkhead；　behind　his　head；　blood　gleamed　dully　in　the　torch…light。　I　bent　over　the　unconscious　man　…1　could　see　that　he　was　still　breathing…removed　my　gloves　once　more　and　gently　slid　my　fingers　behind　his　head。　Just　as　gently　I　withdrew　them。　How　the　hell；　I　thought；　part　hopelessly；　part　savagely；　am　I　to　carry　out　a　head　operation　on　a　person　with　a　telescoped　occiput：　the　state　he　was　in；　I　wouldn't　have　given　a　fig　for　his　chance　in　the　finest　operating　theatre　in　London。　At　the　very　least　he　would　be　blind　for　life；　the　sight　centre　must　have　been　pletely　destroyed。　I　reached　for　his　pulse：　racing；　faint；　erratic　to　a　degree。　The　thought　came　to　me；　a　thought　pounded　as　much　of　cowardice　as　of　regret；　that　in　all　likelihood　the　possibility　of　my　having　to　operate　on　him　was　remote；　very　remote。　If　he　were　to　survive　the　inevitably　rough　handling　that　would　be　needed　to　get　him　out　of　that　aircraft　and　then　the　journey　back　to　the　cabin　through　that　ice…laden　sub…zero　gale；　it　would　be　a　miracle　indeed。
　
　It　seemed　unlikely　that　he　would　ever　wake　again。　But　he　might；　he　just　conceivably　might；　so　I　broached　the　morphia　kit。　Then　we　eased　his　head　and　neck　into　a　more　fortable　position；　covered　him　with　a　blanket　and　left　him。
　
　Immediately　behind　the　radio　partment　was　a　long　narrow　room　which　extended　across　two…thirds　of　the　width　of　the　plane。　A　quick　glance　at　the　two　chairs　and　collapsible　bunk　was　enough　to　show　that　this　must　be　the　crew's　rest　room；　and　someone　had　been　resting　there　at　the　moment　of　the　crash。　That　crumpled　shirt…sleeved　figure　on　the　floor　must　have　been　taken　pletely　unawares；　before　he　had　the　slightest　knowledge　of　what　was　happening：　and　he　would　never　know　now。
　
　We　found　the　stewardess　in　the　pantry；　lying　on　her　left　side　on　the　floor；　the　outspread　black　hair　fallen　forward　over　her　face。　She　was　moaning　softly　to　herself；　but　it　wasn't　the　moan　of　one　in　pain。　Her　pulse　was　steady　enough；　but　fast。　Jackstraw　stooped　down　beside　me。
　
　〃Shall　we　lift　her；　Dr　Mason？〃
　
　〃No。〃　I　shook　my　head。　〃She's　ing　to；　I　think；　and　she　can　tell　us　far　quicker　than　we　can　find　out　whether　there's　anything　broken。　Another　blanket；　and　we'll　let　her　be。　Almost　certainly　someone　much　more　in　need　of　our　attention。〃
　
　The　door　leading　into　the　main　passenger　partment　was　locked。　At　least；　it　appeared　to　be；　but　I　was　pretty　certain　it　would　never　be　locked　under　normal　circumstances。　Perhaps　it　had　been　warped　by　the　impact　of　landing。　It　was　no　time　for　half　measures。　Together；　we　took　a　step　back；　then　flung　all　the　weight　of　our　shoulders　against　it。　It　gave　suddenly；　three　or　four　inches；　and　at　the　same　time　we　heard　a　sharp　exclamation　of　pain　from　the　other　side。
　
　〃Careful！〃　I　warned；　but　Jackstraw　had　already　eased　his　weight。　I　raised　my　voice。　〃Get　back　from　that　door；　will　you？　We　want　to　e　in。〃
　
　We　heard　a　meaningless　mutter　from　the　other　side；　followed　by　a　low　groan　and　the　slipping　shuffle　of　someone　trying　to　haul　himself　to　his　feet。　Then　the　door　opened　and　we　passed　quickly　inside。
　
　The　blast　of　hot　air　struck　me　in　the　face　like　an　almost　physical　biow。　I　gasped；　fought　off　a　passing　moment　of　weakness　when　my　legs　threatened　to　give　under　me；　then　recovered　sufficiently　to　bang　the　door　shut　behind　me。　With　the　motors　dead　and　the　arctic　chill　striking　through　the　thin　steel　of　the　fuselage　this　warmth；　no　matter　how　efficient　the　cabin　insulation；　wouldn't　last　long：　but　while　it　did；　it　might　be　the　saving　of　all　those　who　still　lived。　A　thought　struck　me　and；　ignoring　the　man　who　stood　swaying　before　me；　one　hand　clutching　a　seat　grip　for　support；　the　other　rubbing　at　a　blood…masked　forehead；　I　turned　to　Jackstraw。
　
　〃Carry　the　stewardess　in　here。　We'll　take　a　chance…and　it's　not　all　that　much　of　a　chance　either。　There's　a　damned　sight　more　hope　for　her　in　here　with　a（　broken　leg　than　out　there　with　only　a　bump　on　the　head。　Throw　her　blanket　over　the　wireless　operator　…but　whatever　you　do　don't　touch　him。〃
　
　Jackstraw　nodded　and　went　out；　closing　the　door　quickly　behind　him。　I　turned　to　the　man　who　still　stood　shakily　in　the　aisle；　still　dazedly　rubbing　his　hand；　a　big　brown　square　hand　matted　on　the　back　with　black　hair；　across　a　bleeding　forehead。　He　looked　at　me　for　a　moment；　then　stared　down　unprehendingly　at　the　blood　dripping　on　to　the　bright　red　tie　and　blue　shirt　that　contrasted　so　oddly　with　the　light　grey　gaberdine　suit。　He　closed　his　eyes　tightly；　then　shook　his　head　to　clear　it。
　
　〃Sorry　to　ask　the　inevitable　question。〃　The　voice　was　quiet；　deep；　well　under　control。　〃But…what　happened？〃
　
　〃You　crashed；〃　I　said　shortly。　〃What　do　you　remember？〃
　
　〃Nothing。　Well；　that　is；　just　a　bump；　then　a　loud　screeching　tearing　noise…〃
　
　〃Then　you　hit　the　door。〃　I　gestured　at　the　bloodstains　behind　me。　〃Sit　down　for　a　moment。　You'll　be　all　right。〃　I'd　lost　interest　in　him　and　was　staring　down　the　length　of　the　cabin。　I'd　expected　to　see　most　of　the　seats　wrenched　off　their　bases；　but　instead　they　were　all　there　exactly　as　they　should　have　been；　three　wide　to　the　left　of　me；　two　to　the　right；　the　seats　in　the　front　half　facing　aft；　those　to　the　rear　facing　forward。　More　than　that；　I　had　expected　to　see　people；　injured；　broken　and　moaning　people；　flung　all　over　the　seats　and　aisles：　but　the　big　passenger　partment　seemed　almost　empty；　and　there　wasn't　a　sound　to　be　heard。
　
　But　it　wasn't　empty；　not　quite。　Apart　from　the　man　by　my　side　there　were；　I　found；　nine　others　altogether。　Two　men　lay　in　the　front　part　of　the　aisle。　One；　a　big　broad…shouldered　man　with　curly　dark　hair；　was　propped　up　on　an　elbow；　staring　around　him　with　a　puzzled　frown　on　his　face；　near　him；　lying　on　his　side；　was　a　smaller；　much　older　man；　but　all　I　could　see　of　him　were　a　few　wisps　of　black　hair　plastered　across　a　bald　head；　a　Glenurquhart　plaid　jacket　that　seemed　a　couple　of　sizes　too　big　for　him　and　the　loudest　check　tie　it　had　ever　been　my　misfortune　to　see。　It　seemed　obvious　that　they　had　been　sitting　together　in　the　left…hand　seat　adjacent　to　them　and　had　been　flung　out　when　the　plane　crashed　into　the　ice…mound　and　slewed　violently　to　one　side。
　
　In　the　seat　beyond　that；　also　on　the　left；　a　man　sat　by　himself。　My　first　reaction　was　surprise　that　he；　too；　hadn't　been　hurled　into　the　aisle；　but　then　I　saw　that　he　was　awake　and　fully　conscious。　He　was　sitting　rigidly　in　his　seat；　pressed　in　hard　against　the　window；　legs　braced　on　the　floor；　holding　on　with　both　hands　to　the　table　fixed　to　the　seat　in　front：　tautened　tendons　ridged　the　backs　of　his　thin　white　hands；　and　his　knuckles　gleamed　in　the　torch…light。　I　lifted　the　beam　higher；　saw　that　he　was　wearing　a　close…fitting　clerical　collar。
　
　〃Relax；　Reverend；〃　I　said　soothingly。　〃Terra　firma　once　more；　and　this　is　as　far　as　you　are　going。〃　He　said　nothing；　just　stared　at　me　through　rimless　glasses；　so　I　left　him。　He　seemed　unhurt。
　
　Four　people　sat　in　the　right…hand　side　of　the　front　part　of　the　plane；　each　one　in　a　window　seat；　two　women；　two　men。　One　of　the　women　was　fairly　elderly；　but　so　heavily　made…up　and　with　her　hair　so　expensively　dyed　and　marcelled　that　I　co