alistairmaclean.nightwithoutend-第25部分

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　〃Solly　Levin。〃
　
　The　brief　twilight　of　noon　came　and　went；　the　cold　steadily　deepened　and　by　late　in　the　evening　it　seemed　that　we　had　been　on　board　that　lurching；　roaring　tractor　all　our　lives。
　
　Twice　only　we　stopped　in　the　course　of　that　interminable　day；　for　refuelling　at　4　p。m。　and　8　p。m。　I　chose　these　times　because　I　had　arranged　with　Joss　that　I　would　try　to　contact　him　every　fourth　hour。　But　though　we　set　up　the　apparatus　outside　while　Jackstraw　was　refuelling　and　Corazzini　sat　astride　the　bicycle　seat　and　cranked　the　generator　handle　while　I　tapped　out　our　call　sign　for　almost　ten　unbroken　minutes；　no　shadow　of　an　answer　came　through。　I　had　expected　none。　Even　if　by　some　miracle　Joss　had　managed　to　fix　the　set；　the　ionosphere　turbulence　that　had　caused　the　aurora　would　have　almost　certainly　killed　any　chance　of　making　contact。　But　I'd　promised　Joss；　and　I　had　to　keep　faith。
　
　By　the　time　I　made　the　second　try；　everyone；　even　Jackstraw　and　myself；　was　shaking　and　shivering　in　the　bitter　cold。
　
　Normally；　we　wouldn't　have　felt　it　much…in　very　cold　weather　we　wore　two　plete　sets　of　furs；　the　inner　one　with　the　fur　inside；　the　outer　with　the　fur　outside。　But　we'd　given　our　extra　pairs　away　to　Corazzini　and　Zagero…furs　were　essential　in　that　ice…box　of　a　tractor　cabin…and　suffered　just　as　much　as　the　others。
　
　Occasionally；　someone　would　jump　down　from　the　tractor　and　run　alongside　to　try　to　get　warm；　but　so　exhausted　were　most　from　sleeplessness；　hunger；　cold　and　eternally　bracing　themselves　against　the　lurching　of　the　tractor；　that　they　were　staggering　from　exhaustion　within　minutes　and　had　to　e　aboard　again。　And　when　they　did　e　aboard；　the　sweat　from　their　exertions　in　such　heavy　clothes　turned　ice…cold　on　their　bodies；　putting　them　in　worse　case　than　ever；　until　finally　I　had　to　stop　it。
　
　It　grieved　me　to　do　what　had　to　be　done；　what　I　saw　must　be　done；　but　there　was　no　help　for　it。　The　weariness；　the　cold　and　the　sleeplessness　could　be　borne　no　longer。　When　I　finally　gave　the　order　to　stop　it　was　ten　minutes　after　midnight；　and　we　had　been　driving　continuously；　except　for　brief　fuel　and　radio　halts；　for　twenty…seven　hours。
　
　
　CHAPTER　EIGHT…Wednesday　4　A。M。…8　P。M。
　
　Despite　our　exhaustion；　despite　our　almost　overwhelming　need　for　sleep；　I　don't　think　anyone　slept　that　night；　even　for　a　moment；　for　to　have　slept　would　have　been　to　freeze　to　death。
　
　I　had　never　known　such　cold。　Even　with　twelve　of　us　jam…packed　inside　a　tiny　wooden　box　built　to　hold　five　sleeping　people　at　the　most；　even　with　the　oil　fire　roaring　up　the　chimney　all　night　long　and　wanned　by　a　couple　of　cups　of　piping　hot　coffee　apiece；　we　all　of　us　suffered　agonies　during　these　dark　hours。　The　chattering　of　teeth；　the　St　Vitus'　dance　of　tremor…ridden　limbs　knocking　against　the　thin　uninsulated　wooden　walls；　the　constant　rubbing　as　someone　sought　to　restore　life　to　a　frozen　face　or　arm　or　foot。　These　were　the　sounds　that　never　ceased。　How　the　elderly　Marie　LeGarde　or　the　sick　Mahler　survived　that　night　was　indeed　a　matter　for　wonder。
　
　But　survive　they　did；　for　when　I　looked　at　my　luminous　watch；　saw　that　it　was　almost　four　o'clock　and　decided　that　enough　was　enough；　both　of　them　were　wide　awake　when　I　switched　on　the　little　overhead　light。　Weak　enough　normally；　that　light　was　now　no　more　than　a　feeble　yellow　glow…　an　ominous　sign；　it　meant　that　even　the　tractor　batteries　were　beginning　to　freeze　up…but　enough　to　see　the　crowded　circle　of　faces；　white　and　blue　and　yellowing　with　frostbite；　the　smoke…like　exhalations　that　clouded　in　the　air　before　them　with　every　breath　they　took；　the　film　of　slick　ice　that　already　covered　the　walls　and　all　of　the　roof　except　for　a　few　inches　round　the　stove　pipe　exit。　As　a　spectacle　of　suffering；　of　sheer　unrelieved　misery；　I　don't　think　I　have　ever　seen　its　equal。
　
　〃Insomnia；　eh；　Doc？〃　It　was　Corazzini　speaking；　his　teeth　chattering　between　the　words。　〃Or　just　forgotten　to　plug　in　your　electric　blanket？〃
　
　〃Just　an　early　riser；　Mr　Corazzini。〃　I　glanced　round　the　haggard　and　pain…filled　faces。　〃Anybody　here　slept　at　all？〃
　
　I　was　answered　by　mute　headshakes　from　everybody。
　
　〃Anybody　likely　to　sleep？〃
　
　Again　the　headshakes。
　
　〃That　settles　it。〃　I　struggled　to　my　feet。　〃It's　only　4　a。m。；　but　if　we're　going　to　freeze　to　death　we　might　as　well　freeze　on　the　move。　Not　only　that；　but　another　few　hours　in　this　temperature；　and　that　tractor　engine　will　never　start　again。　What　do　you　think；　Jackstraw？〃
　
　〃I'll　get　the　blow…torches；〃　he　said　by　way　of　answer；　and　pushed　his　way　out　through　the　canvas　screen。　Almost　at　once　I　heard　him　begin　to　cough　violently　in　the　deadly　cold　of　the　air　outside；　and；　in　the　intervals　between　the　coughing；　we　could　clearly　hear　the　dry　rustling　crackling　of　his　breath　as　the　moisture　condensed；　froze　and　drifted　away　in　the　all　but　imperceptible　breeze。
　
　Corazzini　and　I　followed；　choking　and　gasping　in　turn　as　that　glacial　cold　seared　through　throat　and　lungs；　adjusting　masks　and　goggles　until　not　a　millimetre　of　flesh　was　left　exposed。　Abreast　the　driving　cabin　I　drew　out　my　torch　and　glanced　at　the　alcohol　thermometer…ordinary　mercury　froze　solid　at…38°…then　looked　again　in　disbelief。　The　red　spirit　inside　the　glass　had　sunk　down　to　within　an　inch　of　the　bulb　and　stood　on　the　line　of　…68°…exactly　one　hundred　degrees　of　frost。　Still　well　below　Wegener's　…85°；　further　short　still　of　the　incredible　…125°　that　the　Russians　had　recorded　at　the　Vostok　in　Antarctica；　but　nevertheless　the　lowest；　by　almost　fifteen　degrees；　that　I　had　ever　experienced。　And　that　it　should　happen　now…now；　two　hundred　miles　from　the　nearest　human　habitation；　with　Jackstraw　and　myself　stuck　with　two　murderers；　a　possibly　dying　man；　seven　other　passengers　rapidly　weakening　from　exposure；　exhaustion　and　lack　of　food；　and　a　superannuated　tractor　that　was　due　to　pack　up　at　any　moment　at　all。
　
　Over　an　hour　later　I　had　cause　to　revise　the　last　part　of　that　estimate…it　seemed　that　the　tractor　had　already　packed　up。　I　had　had　my　first　intimation　of　trouble　to　e　when　I　had　switched　on　the　ignition　and　pressed　the　horn…the　faint　mournful　beep　could　hardly　have　been　heard　twenty　yards　away。　The　batteries　were　so　gummed　up　by　the　cold　that　they　couldn't　even　have　turned　over　a　hot　engine；　far　less　one　in　which　the　crankcase；　transmission　and　differential　were　all　but　locked　solid　in　lubricating　oil　that　had　lost　all　power　to　lubricate　anything　and　had　been　turned　into　a　super　viscous　liquid　with　the　consistency　and　intractability　of　some　heavy　animal　glue。　Even　with　two　of　us　bringing　all　our　weight　to　bear　on　the　starting　handle　it　was　impossible　to　turn　even　one　cylinder　over　the　top。
　
　We　made　to　light　the　paraffin　blow…torches　but　they；　too；　were　frozen　solid：　paraffin　freezes　at　just　over　…50°；　and　even　at　…40°　it　still　flows　like　heavy　gear…case　oil。　We　had　to　thaw　them　out　with　a　petrol　blow…torch；　then　place　all　five　of　them　on　wooden　boxes　and　behind　canvas　aprons　to　retain　the　heat；　two　to　thaw　out　the　crankcase；　two　for　the　gear…box　and　transmission　and　the　last　for　the　differential。　After　an　hour　or　so；　when　the　engine　had　begun　to　turn　fairly　easily　and　we　had　brought　out　the　heavy　battery　which　had　been　thawing　out　by　the　stove；　we　tried　again。　But　it　gave　no　sign　of　life　at　all。
　
　None　of　us；　not　even　Corazzini　whose　Global　tractors　were　all　diesel…powered；　was　an　expert　in　engine　maintenance；　and　this　was　when　we　came　very　close　to　despair。　But　despair　was　the　one　emotion　we　couldn't　afford；　and　we　knew　it。　We　kept　the　blow…torches　burning；　returned　the　battery　to　the　stove；　removed　and　cleaned　the　plugs；　eased　the　frozen　brushes　in　the　generator；　stripped　and　removed　the　petrol　lines；　thawed　them　and　sucked　out　the　frozen　condensation　by　mouth；　scraped　away　the　ice　from　the　carburettor　intake　and　returned　everything　in　place。　We　had　to　remove　our　gloves　for　most　of　this　delicate　work；　the　flesh　stuck　to　metal　and　pulled　off　like　the　skin　of　an　orange　when　we　removed　our　hands；　even　the　backs　of　our　fingers　became　burnt　and　blistered　from　casual　knocks　on　metal；　blood　oozed　out　from　under　our　fingernails　only　to　coagulate　in　the　freezing　air；　and　our　lips；　where　they　had　touched　the　copper　petrol　feeds；　were　swollen　and　puffed　and　blistered。　It　was　brutal；　killing　work；　and　in　addition　to　the　work　our　arms　and　legs　and　faces　were　almost　constantly　frozen；　despite　frequent　visits　to　the　stove　to　thaw　ourselves　out。　It　was　murderous…but　it　was　worth　it。　At　six…fifteen；　two　and　a　quarter　hours　after　we　had　begun；　the　big　engine　coughed　and　spluttered　into　life；　missed；　coughed　again；　caught　and　settled　down　into　a　steady　even　roar。　I　felt　my　split　lips　cracking　into　a　painful　grin　under　my　mask；　thumped　Jackstraw　and　Corazzini…for　the　moment　quite　forgetting　that　the　latter　might　be　one　of　the　killers…on　the　back；　turned　and　went　in　for　breakfast。
　
　Or　what　passed　for　breakfast。　It　was　little　enough；　heaven　knew…coffee；　crackers　and　the　contents　of　a　couple　of　corned　beef　tins　shared　among　the　twelve　of　us；　the　lion's　share　going　to　Theodore　Mahler。　That　left　us　with　only　four　more　tins　of　beef；　four　cans　of　vegetables；　about　ten　pounds　of　dried　fruit；　a　little　frozen　fish；　a　small　tin　of　biscuits；　three　packets　of　cereal　and…it　was　the　only　thing　apart　from　coffee　of　which　we　had　an　adequate　supply…over　twenty　tins　of　Nestle's　unsweetened　milk。　We　had；　of　course；　seal　meat　for　the　dogs…Jackstraw　thawed　some　out　for　them　over　the　stove　while　we　had　breakfast…and　the　fried　meat　of　young　seal　is　palatable　to　a　degree。　But　the　dogs　had　first　claim　on　that。　It　was　more　important　to　preserve　their　strength　than　our　own：　should　the　engine　of　the　Citroen　break　down　pletely；　our　last　hope　lay　with　the　dogs。
　
　Breakfast　over　and　the　dogs　fed；　we　started　off　just　before　moonset；　Corazzini　driving；　with　the　long　trailing　plume　of　our　exhaust　vapour；　milk…white　but　thick　as　smoke　in　that　bitter　air；　stretching　out　far　behind　us；　bar…straight；　almost　as　far　as　the　eye　could　see　in　the　waning　light　of　the　moon。　I　had　arranged　that　the　drivers　should　change　over　every　fifteen　minutes…as　long　a　period　as　any　person　could　stand　in　that　unheated　and　largely　unprotected　cabin。　I　had　heard　of　a　case　in　the　Antarctic　where　a　driver　had　sat　so　long　in　an　exposed　tractor　that　his　numbed　and　frozen　fingers　had　locked　so　immovably　that　the　steering…wheel　had　had　to　be　unbolted　and　brought　inside　still　clutched　in　the　driver's　grasp　before　the　hands　could　be　thawed　sufficiently　to　release　the　wheel：　I　didn't　want　anything　of　that　kind　happening　to　us。
　
　As　soon　as　we　were　under　way　I　had　a　look　at　Mahler；　and　his　appearance　certainly　did　nothing　to　inspire　any　great　confidence　in　his　chances。　Even　although　he　was　fully　dressed；　lying　in　an　eiderdown　sleeping…bag　that　was　zipped　all　the　way　to　his　chin；　and　covered　in　blankets；　his　pinched　face　was　a　mottled　blue…white　and　he　was　shaking　continuously　with　the　cold；　a　handkerchief　between　his　teeth　to　prevent　their　chattering。　I　reached　for　his　wrist。　The　pulse　was　very　fast；　though　it　seemed　strong　enough：　but　I　couldn't　be　sure；　so　much　skin　had　been　sloughed　or　burnt　off　in　the　p