cyclops-第32部分
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hrough the air like thunder； followed by a flaming rain of twisted metal that hissed and steamed when it hit the water。
The blimp still hung there； pivoting slowly on its axis。 Helium surged through gaping rents in the hull。 The circular supports inside began snapping like dried sticks。 As if heaving out her final breath the Prosperteer caved in on herself； collapsing like an eggshell； and fell into the seething whitecaps。
The raging devastation all happened so quickly。 In less than twenty seconds both engines were torn from their mounts； and the support beams holding the control car twisted apart； acpanied by a banshee screeching sound。 Like a fragile toy thrown on the sidewalk by a destructive child； the rivets burst and the internal structure shrieked in agony as it disintegrated。
The control car kept sinking into the deep； the water flooding through the shattered windows。 It was as if a giant hand was pressing the blimp downward until at last she slipped into the depths and disappeared。 Then the control car broke free and dropped like a falling leaf； trailed by a confused maze of wire and cable。 The remains of the duraluminum envelope followed； flapping wildly like a drunken bat in flight。
A school of yellowtail snappers darted from under the plunging mass an instant before it struck the sea floor； the impact throwing up billowing clouds of fine sand。
Then all was as quiet as a grave； the deathly stillness broken only by the gentle gurgle of escaping air。
On the turbulent surface the stunned crew of the gunboat began sweeping back and forth over the crash sites； searching for any sign of survivors。 They only found spreading pools of fuel and oil。
The winds from the approaching hurricane increased to Force 8。 The waves reached a height of eighteen feet； making any further search impossible。 The boat's captain had no choice but to turn about on a course toward a safe harbor in Cuba； leaving behind a swirling and malignant sea。
The opaque cloud of silt that hid the shredded remains of the Prosperteer was slowly carried away by a weak bottom current。 Pitt rose to his hands and knees and looked around the shambles that had been the control car。 Gunn was sitting upright on the deck； his back pressed against a buckled bulkhead。 His left ankle was swelling into the shape of a coconut； but he sucked on his mouthpiece and raised one hand with the fingers formed in a V
Giordino doggedly pulled himself upright and tenderly pressed the right side of his chest。 One broken ankle and probably a few ribs between them； thought Pitt。 It could be worse。 He bent over Jessie and lifted her head。 Her eyes appeared blank through the lens of the face mask。 The hollow hiss of her regulator and the rise and fall of her chest indicated her breathing was normal； if a bit on the rapid side。 He ran his fingers over her arms and legs but found no sign of a fracture。 Except for a rash of black…and…blue marks that would bloom in the next twenty…four hours； she seemed whole。 As if to assure him； she reached out for his arm and gave it a firm squeeze。
Satisfied； Pitt turned his attention to himself。 All the joints swiveled properly； the muscles functioned； nothing seemed distorted。 Yet he didn't escape unscathed。 A purplish lump was rising on his forehead； and he noticed a strange stiffening sensation in his neck。 Pitt canceled out the disfort with the consolation that no one appeared to be bleeding。 One hairline brush with death was enough for one day； he mused。 The last thing they needed now was a shark attack。
Pitt focused on the next problem； getting out of the control car。 The door was jammed； small wonder after the beating it had taken。 He sat on his buttocks； grasped both hands on the bent frame； and lashed out with his feet。 Lashed out was an exaggeration。 The water pressure impeded the thrust of his legs。 He felt as though he was trying to kick out the bottom of a huge jar of glue。 On the sixth attempt； when the balls and heels of his feet could take no more； the metal seal gave and the door swung outward in slow motion。
Giordino emerged first； his head swathed by a surge of bubbles from his breathing regulator。 He reached back inside； dug his feet into the sand； braced himself for the chest pain that was sure to e； and gave a mighty heave。 With Pitt and Gunn shoving from the inside； a large； unwieldy bundle slowly squeezed through the door and dropped to the sand。 Then eight steel tanks containing 104 cubic feet of air were passed out to the waiting hands of Giordino。
Inside the mangled control car Jessie fought to equalize her ears with the water pressure。 The blood roared and a stabbing pain burst in her head； blanking out the trauma of the crash。 She pinched her nose and snorted furiously。 On the fifth try her ears finally popped； and the relief was so marvelous that tears came to her eyes。 She clamped her teeth on the regulator's mouthpiece and sucked in a lungful of air。 How beautiful it would be to wake up in her own bed； she thought。 Something touched her hand。 It was another hand； firm and rough…skinned。 She looked up to see Pitt's eyes staring at her through his mask； they seemed crinkled in a smile。 He nodded for her to follow him。
He led her outside into the vast liquid void。 She gazed up； watching her air bubbles hiss and swirl toward the restless surface。 Despite the turbulence above； visibility on the bottom was nearly two hundred feet and she could clearly see the entire length of the airship's main carcass lying a short distance from the control car。 Gunn and Giordino were nowhere in sight。
Pitt gestured for her to wait by the air tanks and the strange bundle。 He checked the pass on his left wrist and swam off into the blue haze。 Jessie drifted； weightless； her head feeling light from a touch of nitrogen narcosis。 An overwhelming sense of loneliness closed over her； but quickly evaporated when she saw Pitt retuning。 He made a sign for her to follow； and then he turned and slowly paddled away。 Pounding her feet against the water resistance； she quickly caught up with him。
The white sandy bottom gave way to clumps of coral inhabited by a variety of oddly shaped fish。 Their natural bright colors were deadened to a soft gray by the scattering and absorption of the water particles that filtered out the reds； oranges； and yellows； leaving only dull greens and blues。 They pedaled their fins； moving only an arm's length above the weird and exotically molded underwater jungle； observed queerly by a crowd of small angelfish； pufferfish； and trumpetfish。 The amusing scene reminded Pitt of children watching the huge ballooned cartoon characters that float down Broadway in Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade。
Suddenly Jessie dug her fingers into Pitt's leg and pointed above and behind。 There； swimming in lazy apathy； only twenty feet away； was a school of barracuda。 There must have been two hundred of them； none measuring less than four feet in length。 They turned as one and began circling the divers while displaying a beady…eyed curiosity。 Then； deciding that Pitt and Jessie were not worth lingering over； they flashed away in the wink of an eye and were lost to view。
When Pitt turned back he saw Rudi Gunn materializing out of the smoky blue curtain。 Gunn came to a stop and beckoned for them to hurry in his direction。 Then he made the V sign of success。
The meaning was clear。 Gunn vigorously kicked with one fin； rapidly rising at an angle until he was about thirty feet above the coral landscape； Pitt and Jessie trailing immediately in his wake。
They had traveled nearly a hundred yards when Gunn abruptly slowed and curved his body into a vertical position； one whitened hand held out； slightly bent finger pointing like the grim reaper。
Like a haunted castle looming from the mists of a Yorkshire moor； the phantom shape of the Cyclops rose up through the watery gloom； evil and sinister； as though some unspeakable force lurked within her bowels。
Pitt had dived on many shipwrecks and he was the first man to view the Titanic； but staring at the lost ghost
