cc.themediterraneancaper2-第35部分

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tinkled　with　grim　foreboding　inside　the　cloth　cover。　He　picked　it　up　and　pushed　the　switch　forward。　The　bulb　blinked　on　as　dull　as　ever。　Pitt　uttered　a　gasp　of　relief　and　shined　the　subdued　beam　down　the　passage。　It　dimly　illuminated　a　door　that　was　titled　Fire　Passage　…　Number　Three　Hold。
　The　great　chambers　of　Carlsbad　Caverns　couldn't　have　looked　much　less　formidable　than　Number　Three　Hold。　All　that　Pitt's　light　showed　was　a　vast　steel　cave　crammed　with　countless　sacks　and　stacked　from　deck　to　hatch　cover　on　wooden　tiers。　The　air　was　permeated　with　a　sweet　Incense　kind　of　odor。　The　cocoa　from　Ceylon；　Pitt　surmised。　He　took　the　diver's　knife　and　cut　a　small　half　inch　hole　in　the　coarse　cloth　of　one　of　the　sacks。　A　flow　of　stony　hard　beans　fell　to　the　deck；　bouncing　and　rattling　like　a　hail　on　a　quonset　hut。　A　quick　examination　under　the　flashlight　proved　the　parchment　skinned　beans　to　be　the　genuine　article。
　Suddenly　he　heard　a　noise。　It　was　faint　and　indistinct；　but　it　was　there。　He　froze；　listening。　Then　it　stopped　as　abruptly　as　it　had　e；　and　silence　once　more　gripped　the　haunted　ship；　a　deserted　ship　with　all　its　dark　and　hidden　
　secrets。　Maybe　it's　a　ghost　ship　after　all；　Pitt　mused。　Another　Mary　Celeste　or　Flying　Dutchman。　All　that　was　missing　was　a　stormy　sea　with　rain　lashing　the　top　decks　and　lightning　flashing　in　the　night　and　a　gale　shrieking　through　the　derricks。
　There　was　nothing　more　to　see　in　the　hold。　Pitt　left　and　headed　for　the　engine　room。　He　lost　a　precious　eight　minutes　finding　the　right　panionway。　The　heart　of　the　ship　was　warm　from　the　heat　of　the　engines　and　smelled　of　hot　oil。　He　stood　on　the　catwalk　above　the　huge　and　lifeless　machinery　and　searched　for　a　sign　that　would　indicate　bona　fide　human　activity。　The　flashlight　caught　the　gleam　of　burnished　pipes　that　snaked　across　the　bulkheads　in　geometric　parallel　line。；　ending　in　a　mass　fusion　of　valves　and　gauges。　Then　the　faint　beam　fell　on　a　carelessly　wadded　oily　rag。　Above　the　rag　was　a　shelf　containing　several　coffee…stained　cups；　and　to　the　left　of　those；　a　tray　of　scattered　tools　with　greasy　finger　marks。　At　least　someone　was　working　this　part　of　the　ship；　he　thought；　quite　relieved。　He　knew　that　most　engine　rooms　were　kept　as　clean　as　a　hospital　ward；　but　this　one　was　messy。　But　where　was　the　chief　engineer　and　his　oilmen？　They　couldn't　have　evaporated　into　the　Aegean　atmosphere。
　Pitt　started　to　leave；　then　he　stopped。　There　it　was　again；　the　same　mysterious　sound；　echoing　through　the　ship's　hull。　He　stood　stock…still；　holding　his　breath　for　what　seemed　a　lifetime。　It　was　an　odd；　uncanny　sound；　like　the　scraping　of　a　ship's　keel　over　a　submerged　rock　or　coral　reef。　Pitt　involuntarily　shivered。　It　also　reminded　him　of　the　way　chalk　squeaked　across　a　blackboard。　The　sound　lasted　for　perhaps　ten　seconds；　then　it　was　punctuated　with　the　dull　clank　of　metal　against　metal。
　Pitt　had　never　sat　bathed　with　cold　sweat　in　a　cell　on　San　Quentin's　death　row；　waiting　for　the　warden　and　the　prison　guards　to　escort　him　to　the　gas　chamber。　Nor。　did　he　have　to　be　there　to　describe　the　experience　for　he　knew　exactly　what　it　felt　like。　To　be　alone　in　a　claustrophobic　atmosphere；　expecting　the　footsteps　of　death　to　e　treading　from　the　black　unknown；　was　a　blood　chilling　business。　When　in　doubt；　he　thought；　run　like　a　son　of　a　bitch。　And　run　like　a　son　of　a　bitch　he　did。　Back　through　the　alleyways；　back　up　the　panion…stairs；　until　at　last　his　lungs　were　greeted　by　the　pure；　wholesome　air　on　deck。
　The　early　morning　was　still　dark　and　the　derricks　reached　toward　the　velvet　ceiling　of　a　sky　that　was　alive。　with　a　dazzling　array　of　stars。　There　was　scarcely　a　stir　of　wind。　Over　the　bridge；　the　radio　mast　swayed　back　and　forth　across　the　milky　way；　and　below　Pitts's　feet；　the　hull　creaked　from　the　rolls　of　the　gentle　swells。　He　hesitated　a　moment；　gazing　at　the　dark　line　of　the　Thasos　coast；　yet　a　bare　mile　away。　Then　he　looked　down　at　the　smooth　black　surface　of　the　water。　It　looked　so　inviting。　so　peaceful。
　The　flashlight　still　glowed。　Pitt　cursed　his　stupidity　for　not　switching　it　off　when　he　reached　the　open　deck。　Might　as　well　have　advertised　my　presence　with　a　neon　sign；　he　thought。　He　quickly　doused　the　light。　Then　carefully；　so　as　not　to　cut　himself　on　the　broken　glass；　he　unwrapped　his　swim　trunks　and　removed　the　remains　of　the　lens。　He　hurled　the　tiny　slivers　over　the　railing　and　listened　till　the　faint　splash；　like　rain　on　a　pond；　reached　his　ears。　He　was　tempted　to　deep　six　the　flashlight　too；　but　his　mind　shifted　into　gear　and　rejected　the　impulse。　Leaving　the　rack　in　the　wheelhouse　void　of　the　flashlight　would　be　about　as　clever　as　sending　the　captain；　if　there　was　a　captain；　a　telegram　and　saying；　〃Just　before　dawn；　there　was　a　prowler　on　board　your　ship　who　ransacked　it　from　stem　to　stern。〃　It　very　definitely　wasn't　a　smart　move；　not　with　people　like　these　who　had　outfoxed　nearly　every　law　enforcement　agency　in　the　world。　The　fact　that　the　lens　was　missing　would　be　a　gamble　that　Pitt　would　have　to　take。
　He　glanced　at　his　watch　as　he　hurried　back　to　the　wheelhouse。　The　luminous　hands　showed　4：13。　The　sun　would　be　blossoming　soon。　He　scrambled　onto　the　bridge　and　replaced　the　flashlight　in　the　rack。　His　haste　was　almost　frantic。　He　had　to　be　off　the　ship；　into　his　diving　gear　and　a　good　two　hundred　yards　distant　before　daylight　gave　him　away。
　The　forward　deck　was　still　deserted；　or　at　least　it　seemed　to　be。　A　fluttering　noise　came　from　behind　Pitt。　Instantly　he　spun　around　in　a　sudden　renewed　fear　and　unsheathed　the　knife　in　one　deft　movement。　His　nerves　were　stretched　taut　to　the　border　of　panic；　his　head　pounded　like　a　drum　roll。　God；　he　thought；　I　can't　be　caught　now；　not　this　close　to　safety。
　it　was　nothing　but　a　gull　that　had　flown　out　of　the　night　and　landed　in　a　ventilator；　the　bird　pointed　a　tiny　eye　at　Pitt　and　cocked　its　head　questioningly。　No　doubt　wondering　what　sort　of　crazy　human　would　run　around　a　ship　in　the　early　morning；　clothed　in　nothing　but　a　flotation　vest　while　holding　a　knife　in　one　hand　and　a　bathing　suit　in　the　other。　The　relief　made　Pitt　feel　weak　at　the　knees。　It　had　been　quite　a　scare　and　he　was　badly　shaken。　When　he　boarded　the　ship　he　didn't　know　what　he　expected　to　find：　what　he　found　was　silence　tinged　with　unknown　terror。　Limply　he　leaned　against　the　railing；　getting　a　grip　on　himself。　At　this　rate　he'd　have　heart　failure　or　a　mental　breakdown　before　sunrise。　He　took　several　deep　breaths；　exhaling　slowly　until　the　fear　subsided。
　Without　a　backward　glance；　he　swung　over　the　rail　and　shinnied　down　the　anchor　chain；　vastly　relieved　at　departing　the　ghostly　ship。　It　was　a　wele　fort　to　be　in　the　soothing　water　again。　The　sea　opened　its　arms　and　gave　him　a　sense　of　remoteness　from　danger。
　It　took　only　a　minute　for　Pitt　to　slip　on　his　swim　trunks　and　retrieve　his　diving　gear。　Fitting　an　aqualung　tank　on　your　back　in　the　darkness　with　the　swells　pushing　you　against　the　sides　of　a　steel　hull　Isn't　an　easy　operation。　But　the　Ditch　and　Recovery　experience　he　had　obtained　during　his　early　diving　days　came　in　handy　now；　and　he　acplished　the　task　with　little　effort。　He　looked　around　for　the　wooden　crate；　but　it　had　drifted　into　the　black　curtain　of　night　and　disappeared；　the　wave　action　and　ining　tide；　by　this　time；　carrying　it　half　way　to　the　beach。
　He　lay　there　dead　in　the　water　and　considered　the　possibility　of　diving　under　the　Queen　Artemisia　and　examining　her　hull。　The　weird　scraping　noise　he　had　heard　in　the　engine　room　seemed　to　have　e　from　somewhere　outside　the　plates　and　below　the　keel。　Then　it　occurred　to　him　the　plan　was　hopeless。　Without　an　underwater　light　he　could　see　nothing。　And　he　wasn't　in　the　mood　to　grope　like　a　blind　man　along　a　four…hundred　foot　hull　that　was　encrusted　with　razor　sharp　barnacles。　He'd　heard　old　tales　that　described　in　detail　the　ancient　and　brutal　practice　of　keelhauling　insubordinate　British　sailors。　He　remembered　one　particularly　bloodcurdling　account　of　a　gunner's　mate　who　was　dragged　under　the　keel　of　the　H。M。S。　Confident　off　the　coast　of　Timor　in　1786。　Punished　for　stealing　a　cup　of　brandy　from　the　captain's　locker；　the　poor　fellow　was　dragged　under　the　keel　of