alistairmaclean.nightwithoutend-第26部分

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d　been　sloughed　or　burnt　off　in　the　past　two　or　three　hours　that　I'd　lost　all　sensitivity　in　my　fingertips。　I　gave　him　what　I　hoped　was　an　encouraging　smile。
　
　〃Well；　how　do　you　feel；　Mr　Mahler？〃
　
　〃No　worse　than　anyone　else；　I'm　sure；　Dr　Mason。〃
　
　〃That　could　still　be　bad　enough。　Hungry？〃
　
　〃Hungry！〃　he　exclaimed。　〃Thanks　to　the　generosity　of　these　good　people　here；　I　couldn't　eat　another　crumb。〃
　
　It　was　typical　of　what　I　had　e　to　expect　of　this　gentle　Jew　in　the　past　few　hours。　Despite　the　relatively　generous　amount　of　food　he'd　had　for　his　breakfast；　he'd　wolfed　it　all　down　like　a　famished　man。　He　was　hungry；　all　right：　his　body；　lacking　the　insulin　to　break　down　the　mounting　sugar　in　his　blood；　was　crying　out　for　nourishment　yet　unable　to　find　it　no　matter　what　his　food　intake　was。
　
　〃Thirsty？〃
　
　He　nodded。　Perhaps　he　thought　he　was　on　safe　ground　there；　but　it　was　another　and　invariable　symptom；　of　the　developing　acuteness　of　his　trouble。　I　was　pretty　certain；　too；　that　he　had　already　begun　to　weaken；　and　I　knew　it　wouldn't　be　long　before　he　began　to　lose　weight　rapidly。　Indeed；　he　already　looked　thinner；　the　cheekbones　were　more　prominent；　than　even　thirty…six　hours　ago。　But　then　that　was　true　of　all　the　others　also；　especially　Marie　LeGarde：　for　all　her　unplaining　courage；　her　determined　cheerfulness；　she　now　looked　more　than　old：　she　looked　sick；　and　very　tired。　But　there　was　nothing　I　could　do　for　her。
　
　〃Your　feet？〃　I　asked　Mahler。　〃How　are　they？〃
　
　〃I　don't　think　they're　there　any　longer；〃　he　smiled。
　
　〃Let　me　see　them；〃　I　asked　sharply。　He　protested；　but　I　overruled　him。　One　look　at　that　dead…white　ice…cold　flesh　was　enough。
　
　〃Miss　Ross；〃　I　said。　〃From　now　on　you　are　Mr　Mahler's　personal　Gunga　Din。　We　have　a　couple　of　rubber　bags　in　the　sled。　I　want　you　to　keep　these　alternately　filled　just　as　soon　as　you　can　get　water　heated…unfortunately；　it　takes　a　long　time　to　melt　that　damned　snow。　They're　for　Mr　Mahler's　feet。〃　Again　Mahler　protested；　objecting　to　what　he　called　'This　babying'；　but　I　ignored　him。　I　didn't　want　to　tell　him；　not　yet；　that　frostbite　in　the　feet　of　an　untreated　diabetic　could　mean　only　one　thing：　gangrene　and　amputation；　at　the　least。　Slowly　I　looked　round　the　occupants　of　the　tractor　cabin　and　I　think　that　had　I　known　for　certain　who　the　person　responsible　for　all　this　was；　I　would　have　killed　him　without　punction。
　
　Just　then　Corazzini　came　in。　After　only　fifteen　minutes　at　the　wheel　of　the　tractor　he　had　just　yielded　to　Jackstraw　he　was　in　a　pretty　bad　way。　The　bluish…white　bloodless　face　was　mottled　with　yellow　frostbite　blisters；　his　lips　were　cracked；　the　fingernails　were　beginning　to　discolour　and　his　hands　were　in　a　shocking　mess。　True；　Jackstraw；　Zagero　and　I　were　little　better；　but　Corazzini　was　the　only　one　who　had　driven　in　that　intense　cold：　he　was　shaking　like　a　man　with　malarial　fever；　and　from　the　way　he　stumbled　up　the　steps　I　could　see　that　his　legs　were　gone。　I　helped　him　to　a　vacant　seat　by　the　stove。
　
　〃Feel　anything　below　the　knees？〃　I　asked　quickly。
　
　〃Not　a　damned　thing。〃　He　tried　to　smile；　but　the　effort　was　too　painful；　the　blood　started　to　well　again　from　the　open　cuts　on　his　lips。　〃It's　pretty　vicious　out　there；　Doc。　Better　rub　the　old　feet　with　some　snow；　huh？〃　He　stooped　and　rumbled　uselessly　at　laces　with　his　numbed　and　bleeding　fingers；　but　before　he　could　move　Margaret　Ross　was　on　her　knees；　easing　off　his　boots　with　gentle　fingers。　Looking　down　at　that　slight　figure　lost　beneath　the　bulky　layers　of　clothing；　I　wondered　for　the　hundredth　time　how　I　could　ever　have　been　crazy　enough　to　believe　about　her　all　the　things　I　had　done。
　
　〃In　your　own　idiom；　Mr　Corazzini；〃　I　said；　〃snow　is　strictly　for　the　birds。　Just　an　old　wives'　tale　as　far　as　these　temperatures　are　concerned。　You'd　be　better　rubbing　your　skin　off　with　emery…paper。〃　At　70°　below；　snow　had　the　hard　crystalline　structure　of　sandstone；　and；　when　rubbed；　granulated　into　a　gritty　white　powdery　sand。　I　nodded　to　one　of　the　snow…buckets　on　the　stove。　〃When　the　temperature　there　reaches　85°；　stick　your　feet　in　it。　Wait　till　the　skin　turns　red。　It　won't　be　pleasant；　but　it'll　work。　If　there　are　any　blisters　I'll　puncture　and　sterilise　them　tomorrow。〃
　
　He　stared　at　me。　〃Is　that　sort　of　thing　going　to　go　on　all　the　time；　Doc？〃
　
　〃I'm　afraid　so。〃
　
　And　it　did　go　on　for　all　the　time…or　for　the　next　ten　hours；　at　least；　during　which　time　the　temperature　dropped　down　to　the　low　seventies；　halted　and　began　its　slow；　ever　so　slow；　upward　swing　again。　Ten　hours　while　the　snow…buckets　were　never　off　the　stove；　ten　hours　while　Mrs　Dansby…Gregg；　her　maid；　Helene　and；　later　on；　Solly　Levin　held　blow…torches　against　the　sides　of　the　buckets　to　hurry　up　the　melting　and　heating　process；　ten　hours　while　we　drivers　suffered　the　regularly　recurring　pounding　agony　of　circulation　returning　to　our　frozen　limbs；　ten　hours　during　which　we　began　to　build　up　an　almost　pathological　dread　of　the　moment　when　we　must　again　plunge　our　feet　into　hot　water；　ten　hours　during　which　Mahler　grew　steadily　weaker　and　Marie　LeGarde；　falling　silent　for　the　first　time；　slipped　down　and　lay　huddled　in　a　corner；　eyelids　closed；　like　one　already　dead。　Ten　hours。　Ten　interminable　indescribable　hours　of　suffering　borrowed　from　purgatory。　But　long　before　these　ten　hours　were　up　something　happened　to　change　the　picture　pletely。
　
　At　noon　we　halted　the　tractor。　While　the　women　were　heating　up　soup　and　using　a　blow…torch　to　thaw　out　two　cans　of　fruit；　Jackstraw　and　I　rigged　up　the　radio　transmitter；　strung　out　an　antenna　and　started　triggering　out　our　GFK　call…sign。　Normally；　on　these　hand…cranked　eight…watt　jobs；　a　morse　key　was　used　for　transmission　while　reception　was　by　a　pair　of　earphones；　but　thanks　to　a　skilful　improvisation　by　Joss　who　knew　how　hopelessly　awkward　morse　was　for　everyone　in　the　party　except　himself；　the　set　had　been　rigged　so　that　the　key　was　used　only　for　the　call…up　sign。　After　the　link　was　made；　a　hand　microphone　could　be　used　for　transmission：　and　simply　by　throwing　the　receiving　switch　into　the　antenna　lead；　the　microphone　was　transformed　into　a　small　but　sufficiently　effective　loudspeaker。
　
　Calling　up　Joss　was　only　a　gesture。　I'd　made　a　promise　and　was　keeping　it；　that　was　all。　But　by　this　time；　I　estimated；　we　were　120　miles　distant　from　him；　near　enough　the　limit　of　our　small　set：　I　didn't　know　what　effect　the　intense　cold　would　have　on　radio　transmission；　but　I　suspected　it　wouldn't　be　anything　good：　there　had　been　no　aurora　that　morning；　but　the　ionosphere　disturbance　might　still　be　lingering　on。　and；　of　course；　Joss　himself　had　declared　that　his　RCA　was　entirely　beyond　repair。
　
　Ten　minutes　passed；　ten　minutes　during　which　Jackstraw　industriously　cranked　the　handle　and　I　sent　out　the　call…sign；　GFK　three　times　repeated；　a　flick　of　the　receiver　switch；　ten　seconds　listening；　then　the　switch　pulled　back　and　the　call…sign　made　again。　At　the　end　of　the　ten　minutes　I　sent　out　the　last　call；　pushed　over　the　receiving　switch；　listened　briefly　then　stood　up；　resignedly　gesturing　to　Jackstraw　to　stop　cranking。　It　was　then；　almost　in　the　very　last　instant；　that　the　mike　in　my　hand　crackled　into　life。
　
　〃GFX　calling　GFK。　GFX　calling　GFK。　We　are　receiving　you　faint　but　clear。　Repeat；　we　are　receiving　you。　Over。〃
　
　I　fumbled　and　nearly　dropped　the　mike　in　my　excitement。
　
　〃GFK　calling　GFX；　GFK　calling　GFX。〃　I　almost　shouted　the　words；　saw　Jackstraw　pointing　to　the　switch　which　was　still　in　the　receiving　position；　cursed　my　stupidity；　threw　it　over；　called　out　the　signs　again　and　then；　quite　forgetting　the　procedure　and　etiquette　of　radio　munication；　rushed　on；　the　words　tumbling　over　one　another：　〃Dr　Mason　here。　Dr　Mason　here。　Receiving　you　loud　and　clear。　Is　that　you；　Joss？〃　I　threw　the　switch。
　
　〃Yes；　sir。　Glad　to　hear　from　you。〃　Static　lent　a　flat　impersonality　to　the　crackling　words；　robbed　them　of　meaning。　〃How　are　you？　What　weather；　how　far　out？〃　
　
　〃Going　strong；〃　I　replied。　〃Cold　intense…minus　70°。　Approximately　120　miles　out。　Joss；　this　is　a　miracle！　How　on　earth　did　you　fix　it？〃
　
　〃I　didn't；〃　he　said　unemotionally。　There　was　a　pause　and　then　his　voice　came　again。　〃Captain　Hillcrest　is　waiting　to　speak　to　you；　sir。〃
　
　〃Captain　Hillcrest！　What　on　earth　is　Captain　Hillcrest…〃　I　broke　off　abruptly；　not　through　astonishment；　great　though　that　was；　that　Hillcrest；　whom　I　had　believed　to　be　almost　250　miles　to　the　north　of　our　IGY　cabin　should　have　suddenly　turned　up　there；　but　because　the　warning　glance　from　Jackstraw　had　found　an　echoing　answer　in　the　back　of　my　own　mind。　〃Hold　on；〃　I　said　quickly。　〃Will　call　you　back　in　two　or　three　minutes。〃
　
　We　had　set　up　the　transmitter　just　to　the　rear　of　the　tractor　cabin；　and　I　knew　that　every　word　said　on　both　sides　could　be　heard　by　those　inside。　It　was　just　then　that　the　curtains　parted　and　Corazzini　and　Zagero　peered　out；　but　I　ignored　them。　I　never　cared　less　about　the　hurt　I　was　offering　to　anybody's　feelings；　just　picked　up　the　radio　and　generator　while　Jackstraw　unstrung　the　antenna；　and　walked　away　from　the　tractor。　Two　hundred　yards　away　I　stopped。　Those　in　the　tractor　could　still　see　us…the　brief　light　of　noonday　was　flooding　over　the　ice…cap…but　they　could　no　longer　hear　us。
　
　We　rigged　the　radio　again；　and　I　tried　to　tap　out　the　call…sign　but　it　was　hopeless；　we'd　been　out　too　long　in　that　dreadful　cold　and　my　hand　was　beating　an　uncontrollable　tattoo　on　the　key。　Fortunately；　they　knew　or　guessed　at　the　other　end　what　was　happening；　for　Hillcrest's　voice；　calm；　confident；　infinitely　reassuring；　came　through　as　soon　as　I　pressed　the　receiving　switch。
　
　〃Surprise；　surprise；〃　the　mike　crackled　mechanically。　〃OK；　Dr　Mason；　from　what　Joss　has　said…and　the　recent　delay　…1　guess　you're　a　good　way　from　the　tractor。　At　seventy　below　you　won't　want　to　stay　there　too　long。　Suggest　I　do　all　the　talking。　I'll　keep　it　brief。　Receiving　me？〃
　
　〃Loud　and　clear。　What　on　earth　are　you…sorry；　carry　on。〃
　
　〃Thanks。　We　heard　Monday　afternoon；　on　both　British　and　American　broadcasts；　of　the　overdue　airliner。　Tuesday　morning　…yesterday；　that　is…we　heard　from　the　Uplavnik　base。　They　say　this　hasn't　been　announced　officially；　but　the　US　and　British　governments　are　convinced　that　the　plane　has　not　been　lost　at　sea；　but　that　it　has　landed　somewhere　in　Greenland　or　Baffin　Island。　Don't　ask　me　why　they're　convinced…I've　no　idea。　Anyway；　they've　mounted　the　biggest　air…sea　rescue　search　since　the　war。　Merchant　vessels　of　several　nationalities　have　been　diverted。　American；　British；　French　and　Canadian　fishing　trawlers　are　moving　in　to　the　Greenland　coast…the　west　coast　mainly。　The　east's　already　blocked　with　ice。　A　dozen　US　air　force　search　bombers　are　already　operating　from　Thule　and　Sondre　Strom…fjord。　US　coastguard　cutters　are　on　the　job；　a　flotilla　of　Canadian　destroyers　have　been　rerouted　from　mid…Atlantic　and　are　steaming　at　full　speed　for　the　southern　entrance　of　the　Davis　Strait…although　it　will　take　them　at　least　thirty…six　more　hours　to　get　there…and　a　British　aircraft…carrier；　acpanied　by　a　couple　of　destroyers；　has　already　rounded　Cape　Farewell：　we　don