cc.themediterraneancaper2-第36部分

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r　stealing　a　cup　of　brandy　from　the　captain's　locker；　the　poor　fellow　was　dragged　under　the　keel　of　the　ship　until　his　body　was　sliced　to　ribbons　and　the　white　of　his　ribs　and　backbone　were　visible。　The　unfortunate　man　might　have　survived；　but　before　the　crew　could　hoist　him　back　on　board；　a　pair　of　Mako　sharks；　attracted　by　the　scent　of　blood；　attacked　and　chewed　the　man　to　pieces　before　the　horrified　eyes　of　the　men　on　deck。　Pitt　knew　what　a　shark　could　do。　He　had　once　pulled　a　boy　from　the　surf　in　Key　West　who　had　taken　a　nasty　bite　by　a　shark。　The　boy　had　lived；　but　a　massive　piece　of　tissue　would　always　be　missing　from　his　left　thigh。
　Pitt　cursed　out　loud。　He　must　stop　thinking　about　things　like　that。　His　ears　began　to　ring　from　a　humming　sound。　At　first　he　thought　it　was　a　trick　of　his　imagination。　He　shook　his　bead　violently：　it　was　still　there；　only　louder；　it　seemed　to　be　gaining　momentum。　Then　Pitt　knew　where　the　humming　was　ing　from。
　The　ship's　generators　had　started　again。　The　navigation　lights　blinked　on；　and　the　Queen　Artemisia　suddenly　came　alive　with　sound。　If　there　was　ever　a　time　when　the　better　part　of　valor　was　discretion；　it　was　now。　Pitt　clamped　the　mouthpiece　of　the　regulator　between　his　teeth　and　dove　clear　of　the　ship。　He　kicked　his　fins　with　every　ounce　of　power　in　his　legs；　seeing　nothing　under　the　ink　black　water；　hearing　only　the　strange　gurgling　sound　of　his　exhaust　bubbles。　It　was　times　like　this　that　he　wished　he　didn't　smoke。　After　covering　nearly　fifty…five　yards；　he　surfaced　and　looked　back　at　the　ship。
　The　Queen　Artemisia　rode　at　anchor　in　tombstone　solitude；　her　silhouette　outlined　against　the　graying　eastern　sky　like　an　old　fashioned　shadowgram。。　Dim　shafts　of　white　light　came　to　life　here　and　there　about　the　ship；　interrupted　only　by　the　green　glow　of　the　starboard　navigation　light。　For　several　minutes　nothing　more　happened。　Then　without　any　signal　or　shouted　mand；　the　anchor　clattered　up　from　the　seafloor　and　clanged　into　the　hull。　The　wheelhouse　was　lit　and　Pitt　could　see　it　clearly；　it　was　still　vacant。　It　just　can't　be；　he　repeated　to　himself　over　and　over　again：　it　just　can't　be。　But　the　old　ship　hadn't　yet　finished　the　last　act　of　her　ghostly　performance。　As　if　on　cue；　the　Queen　Artemisia's　telegraph　jangled　faintly　across　the　calm　pre…dawn　sea。　The　engines　responded　with　their　gentle　throb；　and　the　ship　continued　on　her　voyage：　the　secret　of　her　evil　cargo　still　locked　somewhere　within　her　steel　plates。
　Pitt　didn't　have　to　see　the　ship　move　to　know　it　Was　underway；　he　could　feel　the　beat　of　her　propellers　through　the　water。　Fifty…five　yards　was　more　than　enough。　At　that　distance　he　was　invisible　to　any　lookout　and　had　little　to　fear　from　being　sucked　through　the　huge　propellers　and　mangled　into　fish　bait。
　A　seething　flood　of　frustration　swept　over　Pitt　as　the　great　hull　slowly　slid　past　his　bobbing　head。　It　was　as　though　he　was　watching　a　ballistic　missile　lift　from　a　launching　pad　and　hurtle　on　its　pre…set　path　toward　devastation　and　death。　He　was　helpless；　he　could　do　nothing　to　stop　it。　Hidden　somewhere　on　the　Queen　Artemisia　was　enough　heroin　to　drown　half　the　population　of　the　Northern　Hemisphere　in　delirium。　God　alone　knew　what　chaos　would　erupt　in　every　city　and　town　if　it　was　distributed　to　all　the　peddling　scum　who　preyed　on　its　malignant　addiction。　How　many　people　would　bee　listless　dregs　and　eventually　die　from　the　drug's　deadly　narcosis？　One　hundred　and　thirty　tons　of　heroin　on　the　ship。　What　was　that　song　again；　the　little　ditty　that　he'd　sung　all　those　long　years　ago　in　school。　〃A　hundred　bottles　of　beer　on　the　wall〃　It　had　nearly　the　same　ring；　but　it　was　for　light　hearts　and　souls；　not　drugged　minds　and　lost　hopes。
　Then　Pitt　thought　of　himself。　Not　with　self…pride　for　destroying　the　yellow　Albatros　or　searching　the　Queen　Artemisia　and　getting　away　with　it　undetected。　He　thought　of　himself　only　as　an　idiot　for　risking　his　life　on　a　job　he　had　no　business　performing；　a　job　he　wasn't　paid　to　do。　His　orders　were　to　expedite　oceanographic　expeditions。　No　one　said　anything　about　chasing　after　drug　smugglers。　What　could　he　acplish？　He　wasn't　a　guardian　angel　of　humanity。　Let　Zacynthus；　Zeno；　INTERPOL　and　every　other　damn　cop　in　the　world　play　cat　and　mouse　with　von　Till。　It　was　their　game；　they　were　trained　for　it。　And　they　were　paid　for　it　too。
　Again　Pitt　swore　loudly　to　himself。　He　had　already　spent　too　much　time　daydreaming。　It　was　time　to　head　for　shore。　Mechanically；　his　eyes　watched　the　ship's　lights　diminish　bit　by　bit　into　the　fading　darkness　of　the　early　morning。　He　was　just　wading　onto　the　beach　when　the　sun　lifted　itself　from　the　horizon　and　threw　its　rays　on　the；　rock　strewn　summits　of　the　Thasos　mountains。
　Pitt　stripped　off　the　tank　and　let　it　fall　to　the　soft　wet　sand　along　with　the　breathing　regulator　and　his　mask　and　snorkel。　Exhaustion　curled　its　numbing　tentacles　around　him　and　he　succumbed　to　it；　dropping　to　his　hands　and　knees。　His　body　felt　sore　and　beat；　but　his　mind　hardly　noticed　these　things；　it　was　busy　with　something　else。
　Pitt　could　find　no　indication　of　the　heroin　on　board　the　ship；　nor　would　the　Bureau　of　Narcotics　or　the　Customs　Inspectors。　That　much　was　certain。　Below　the　waterline；　that　was　a　possibility。　But　surely　the　wary　investigators　would　have　divers　examine　every　inch　of　the　hull　when　the　ship　docked。　Besides；　there　was　no　way　a　cargo　of　that　size　could　be　removed；　unless　it　was　dropped　in　the　water　and　recovered　Later。　That　wouldn't　work　either；　he　thought；　it　was　too　obvious；　retrieving　a　watertight　container　filled　with　a　hundred　and　thirty　tons　of　solid　material　would　require　a　full　scale　salvage　operation。　No；　there　had　to　be　a　more　ingenious　method；　one　that　had　successfully　defied　detection　for　so　long。
　He　took　the　diver's　knife　and　idly　began　sketching　the　Queen　Artemisias　outline　in　the　wet　sand。　Then；　quite　suddenly；　the　idea　of　a　diagram　intrigued　him。　He　stood　up　and　traced　a　hull　that　stretched　for　approximately　thirty　feet。　The　bridge；　the　holds　and　engine　room；　every　detail　he　could　recall　was　etched　into　the　yielding　white　sand。　Minutes　passed　and　the　ship　started　to　take　shape。　Pitt　had　bee　so　totally　absorbed　in　his　work　that　he　didn't　notice　an　old　man　and　a　donkey；　trudging　wearily　along　the　beach。
　The　old　man　stopped　in　his　tracks　and　stared　at　Pitt　from　a　ripened　old　face　that　had　seen　too　many　decades　of　strife　to　show　an　expression　of　bewilderment。　After　a　few　moments　he　shrugged　unprehendingly　and　ambled　off　after　his　donkey。
　Finally　the　diagram　was　nearly　plete；　down　to　the　last　panionway。　The　knife　flashed　in　the　new　sun　as　Pitt　added　a　final　humorous　touch；　a　tiny　bird　on　a　tiny　ventilator。　Then　he　stepped　back　to　admire　his　handiwork。　He　stared　at　it　for　a　moment；　then　laughed　aloud。　〃One　thing's　certain；　I'll　never　be　acclaimed　for　my　artwork。　It　looks　more　like　a　pregnant　whale　than　a　ship。〃
　Pitt　continued　to　absentmindedly　gaze　at　the　sand　drawing。　Suddenly　his　eyes　took　on　a　trance…like　glaze　and　his　rugged　face　lost　all　expression。　The　spark　of　a　novel　and　fanciful　idea　lit　dimly　in　his　conscious　mind。　At　first　the　idea　seemed　too　outlandish　for　him　to　consider；　but　the　more　he　dwelt　on　its　possibilities；　the　more　feasible　it　became。　Quickly　he　traced　additional　lines　in　the　sand。　pletely　absorbed　again；　he　raced　to　match　up　the　diagram　with　the　picture　in　his　mind。　When　the　last　change　was　finished；　his　mouth　slowly　twisted　into　a　grim　smile　of　satisfaction。　Damned　clever　of　von　Till；　he　thought；　damned　clever。
　He　wasn't　tired　anymore；　his　mind　was　no　longer　burdened　with　unsolvable　questions。　It　was　a　new　approach；　a　new　kind　of　answer。　It　should　have　been　discovered　long　before。　Quickly；　he　gathered　up　the　diving　equipment　and　started　to　hike　over　the　incline　that　separated　the　beach　from　the　coastal　road。　There　was　no　thought　of　quitting　the　game　now。　The　next　inning　would　prove　to　be　the　most　interesting。　At　the　top　he　turned　and　looked　back　at　the　sketch　of　the　Queen　Artemisia　in　the　sand。
　The　rising　tide　was　just　washing　over　and　erasing　the　ship's　funnel；　the　funnel　marked　with　the　big　Minerva　〃M。〃
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　　Giordino　lay　stretched　out　beside　a　blue　Air　F