alistairmaclean.nightwithoutend-第8部分

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　〃Sure　we　have。〃　The　young　man　lifted　his　shoulders　fractionally。　〃Just　can't　say　how　far　to　the　nearest　drugstore　or　pub…〃
　
　〃I　told　them；〃　the　stewardess　interrupted。　〃They　were　asking　me；　just　before　you　came　in。　I　thought　Captain　Johnson　had　overshot　the　landing　field　at　Reykjavik　in　a　snowstorm。　This　is　Langjokull；　isn't　it？〃　She　saw　the　expression　on　my　face　and　went　on　hastily。　〃Or　Hofsjokull？　I　mean；　we　were　flying　more　or　less　north…east　from　Gander；　and　these　are　the　only　two　snowfields　or　glaciers　or　whatever　you　call　them　in　Iceland　in　that　direction　from…〃
　
　〃Iceland？〃　I　suppose　there　is　a　bit　of　the　ham　actor　in　all　of　us；　and　I　really　couldn't　pass　it　up。　〃Did　you　say　Iceland？〃
　
　She　nodded；　dumbly。　Everybody　was　looking　at　her；　and　when　she　didn't　answer　they　all　transferred　their　gazes　to　me；　as　at　the　touch　of　a　switch。
　
　〃Iceland；〃　I　repeated。　〃My　dear　…girl；　at　the　present　moment　you're　at　an　altitude　of　8500　feet；　right　slam　bang　in　the　middle　of　the　Greenland　ice…cap。〃
　
　The　effect　was　all　that　anybody　could　ever　have　wished　for。　I　doubt　whether　even　Marie　LeGarde　had　ever　had　a　better　reaction　from　an　audience。　〃Stunned'　is　an　inadequate　word　to　describe　their　mental　state　immediately　after　this　announcement：　paralysis　was　nearer　it；　especially　where　the　power　of　speech　was　concerned。　And　when　the　power　of　thought　and　speech　did　return；　it　expressed　itself；　as　I　might　have　expected；　in　the　most　violent　disbelief。　Everybody　seemed　to　start　talking　at　once；　but　it　was　the　stewardess　who　took　my　attention；　by　ing　forward　and　catching　me　by　the　lapels。　I　noticed　the　glitter　of　a　diamond　ring　on　her　hand；　and　remember　having　some　vague　idea　that　this　was　against　airline　regulations。
　
　〃What　kind　of　joke　is　this？　It　can't　be；　it　can't　be！　Greenland…it　just　can't　be。〃　She　saw　by　the　expression　on　my　face　that　I　wasn't　joking；　and　her　grip　tightened　even　more。　I　had　just　time　to　be　conscious　of　two　conflicting　thoughts…that；　wide　with　fear　and　dismay　though　they　might　be；　she　had　the　most　extraordinarily　beautiful　brown　eyes　and；　secondly；　that　the　BOAC　were　slipping　in　their　selection　of　stewardesses　whose　calmness　in　emergency　was　supposed　to　match　the　trimness　of　their　appearance…then　she　rushed　on　wildly。
　
　〃How…how　can　it　be？　We　were　on　a　Gander…Reykjavik　flight。　Greenland…we　don't　go　anywhere　near　it。　And　there's　the　automatic　pilot；　and　radio　beams　and…and　radio　base　checks　every　half…hour。　Oh；　it's　impossible；　it's　impossible！　Why　do　you　tell　us　this？〃　She　was　shaking　now；　whether　from　nervous　strain　or　cold　I　had　no　idea：　the　big　young　man　with　the　Ivy　League　accent　put　an　arm　awkwardly　round　her　shoulder；　and　I　saw　her　wince。　Something　indeed　seemed　to　be　hurting　her…but　again　it　could　wait。
　
　〃Joss；〃　I　called。　He　looked　up　from　the　stove；　where　he　was　pouring　coffee　into　mugs。　〃Tell　our　friends　where　we　are。〃
　
　〃Latitude　72。40　north；　longitude　40。10　east；〃　Joss　said　unemotionally。　His　voice　cut　clearly　through　the　hubbub　of　incredulous　conversation。　〃Three　hundred　miles　from　the　nearest　human　habitation。　Four　hundred　miles　north　of　the　Arctic　Circle。　Near　enough　800　miles　from　Reykjavik；　1000　from　Cape　Farewell；　the　southernmost　point　of　Greenland；　and　just　a　little　further　distant　from　the　North　Pole。　And　if　anyone　doesn't　believe　us；　sir；　I　suggest　they　just　take　a　walk…in　any　direction…and　they'll　find　out　who's　right。〃
　
　Joss's　calm；　matter…of…fact　statement　was　worth　half　an　hour　of　argument　and　explanation。　In　a　moment；　conviction　was　plete…and　there　were　more　problems　than　ever　to　be　answered。　I　held　up　my　hand　in　mock　protest　and　protection　against　the　waves　of　questions　that　surged　against　me　from　every　side。
　
　〃All　in　good　time；　please…although　I　don't　really　know　anything　more　than　yourselves…with　the　exception；　perhaps；　of　one　thing。　But　first；　coffee　and　brandy　all　round。〃
　
　〃Brandy？〃　The　expensive　young　woman　had　been　the　first；　I'd　noticed；　to　appropriate　one　of　the　empty　wooden　cases　that　Jackstraw　had　brought　in　in　lieu　of　seats；　and　now　she　looked　up　under　the　curve　of　exquisitely　modelled　eyebrows。　〃Are　you　sure　that's　wise？〃　The　tone　of　her　voice　left　little　room　for　doubt　as　to　her　opinion。
　
　〃Of　course。〃　I　forced　myself　to　be　civil：　bickering　could　reach　intolerable　proportions　in　a　rigidly　closed；　mutually　interdependent　group　such　as　we　were　likely　to　be　for　some　time　to　e。　〃Why　ever　not？〃
　
　〃Opens　the　pores；　dear　man；〃　she　said　sweetly。　〃I　thought　everyone　knew　that…how　dangerous　it　is　when　you're　exposed　to　cold　afterwards。　Or　had　you　forgotten？　Our　cases；　our　night　things　in　the　plane…somebody　has　to　get　these。〃
　
　〃Don't　talk　such　utter　rubbish。〃　My　short…lived　attempt　at　civility　perished　miserably。　〃Nobody's　leaving　here　tonight。　You　sleep　in　your　clothes…this　isn't　the　Dorchester。　If　the　blizzard　dies　down；　we　may　try　to　get　your　things　tomorrow　morning。〃
　
　〃But…〃
　
　〃If　you're　all　that　desperate；　you're　wele　to　get　them　yourself。　Want　to　try？〃　It　was　boorish　of　me；　but　that　was　the　effect　she　had。　I　turned　away　to　see　the　minister　or　priest　hold　up　his　hand　against　the　offered　brandy。
　
　〃Go　on；　take　it；〃　I　said　impatiently。
　
　〃I　don't　really　think　I　should。〃　The　voice　was　high…pitched；　but　the　enunciation　clear　and　precise；　and　I　found　it　vaguely　irritating　that　it　should　so　perfectly　match　his　appearance；　be　so　exactly　what　I　should　have　expected。　He　laughed；　a　nervous　deprecating　laugh。　〃My　parishioners；　you　know　。　。　。　〃
　
　I　was　tired；　worried　and　felt　like　telling　him　what　he　could　do　with　his　parishioners；　but　it　wasn't　his　fault。
　
　〃There's　precedent　in　plenty　in　your　Bible；　Reverend。　You　know　that　better　than　I。　It'll　do　you　good；　really。〃
　
　〃Oh　well；　if　you　think　so。〃　He　took　the　glass　gingerly；　as　if　Beelzebub　himself　were　on　the　offering　end；　but　I　noticed　that　there　was　nothing　so　hesitant　about　his　method　and　speed　of　disposal　of　the　contents：　his　subsequent　expression　could　properly　be　described　as　beatific。　I　caught　Marie　LeGarde's　eye；　and　smiled　at　the　twinkle　I　caught　there。
　
　The　reverend　wasn't　the　only　one　who　found　the　coffee…and　brandy…wele。　With　the　exception　of　the　stewardess；　who　sipped　at　her　drink　in　a　distraught　fashion；　the　others　had　also　emptied　their　glasses；　and　I　decided　that　the　broaching　of　another　MarteU's　was　justified。　In　the　respite　from　the　talk；　I　bent　over　the　injured　man　on　the　floor。　His　pulse　was　slower；　steadier　and　his　breathing　not　quite　so　shallow：　I　slipped　in　a　few　more　heat　pads　and　zipped　up　the　sleeping…bag。
　
　〃Is　he…is　he　any　better；　do　you　think？〃　The　stewardess　was　so　close　to　me　that　I　brushed　against　her　as　I　straightened。　〃He…he　seems　a　bit　better；　doesn't　he？〃
　
　〃He　is　a　bit；　I　think。　But　nothing　like　over　the　shock　from　the　wound　and　the　exposure；　though。〃　I　looked　at　her　speculatively　and　suddenly　felt　almost　sorry　for　her。　Almost；　but　not　quite：　I　didn't　at　all　like　the　direction　my　thoughts　were　leading　me。　〃You've　flown　together　quite　a　bit；　haven't　you？〃
　
　〃Yes。〃　She　didn't　offer　anything　more。　〃His　head…do　you　think…〃
　
　〃Later。　Let　me　have　a　quick　look　at　that　back　of　yours。〃
　
　〃Look　at　what？〃
　
　〃Your　back；〃　I　said　patiently。　〃Your　shoulders。　They　seem　to　give　you　some　pain。　I'll　rig　a　screen。〃
　
　〃No；　no；　I'm　all　right。〃　She　moved　away　from　me。
　
　〃Don't　be　silly；　my　dear。〃　I　wondered　what　trick　of　voice　production　made　Marie　LeGarde's　voice　so　clear　and　carrying。　〃He　is　a　doctor；　you　know。〃
　
　〃No！〃
　
　I　shrugged　and　reached　for　my　brandy　glass。　Bearers　of　bad　news　were　ever　unpopular：　I　supposed　her　reaction　was　the　modern　equivalent　of　the　classical　despot's　unsheathing　his　dagger。　Probably　only　bruises；　anyhow；　I　told　myself；　and　turned　to　look　at　the　pany。
　
　An　odd…looking　bunch；　to　say　the　least；　but　then　any　group　of　people　dressed　in　lounge　suits　and　dresses；　trilby　hats　and　nylon　stockings　would　have　looked　odd　against　the　strange　and　unpromising　background　of　that　cabin　where　every　suggestion　of　anything　that　even　remotely　suggested　gracious　living　had　been　crushed　and　ruthlessly　made　subservient　to　the　all…exclusive　purpose　of　survival。
　
　Here　there　were　no　armchairs…no　chairs；　even…no　carpets；　wall…paper；　book…shelves；　beds；　curtains…or　even　windows　for　the　curtains。　It　was　a　bleak　utilitarian　box　of　a　room；　eighteen　feet　by　fourteen。　The　floor　was　made　of　unvarnished　yellow　pine。　The　walls　were　made　of　spaced　sheets　of　bonded　ply；　with　kapok　insulation　between：　the　lower　part　of　the　walls　was　covered　with　green…painted　asbestos；　the　upper　part　and　entire　roof　sheeted　with　glittering　aluminium　to　reflect　the　maximum　possible　heat　and　light。　A　thin；　ever…present　film　of　ice　climbed　at　least　half…way　up　all　four　walls；　reaching　almost　to　the　ceiling　in　the　four　corners；　the　parts　of　the　room　most　remote　from　the　stove　and　therefore　the　coldest。　On　very　cold　nights；　such　as　this；　the　ice　reached　e　ceiling　and　started　to　creep　across　it　to　the　layers　of　opaque　ice　that　permanently　framed　the　undersides　of　our　rimed　and　opaque　skylights。
　
　The　two　exits　from　the　cabin　were　let　into　the　fourteen…foot　sides：　one　led　to　the　trap；　the　other　to　the　snow　and　ice　tunnel　where　we　kept　our　food；　petrol；　oil；　batteries；　radio　generators；　explosives　for　seismological　and　glacial　investigations　and　a　hundred　and　one　other　items。　Half…way　along；　a　secondary　tunnel　led　off　at　right　angles…a　tunnel　which　steadily　increased　in　length　as　we　cut　out　the　blocks　of　snow　which　were　melted　to　give　us　our　water　supply。　At　the　far　end　of　the　main　tunnel　lay　our　primitive　toilet　system。
　
　One　eighteen…foot　wall　and　half　of　the　wall　that　gave　access　to　the　trap…door　were　lined　with　twin　rows　of　bunks…eight　in　all。　The　other　eighteen…foot　wall　was　given　over　entirely　to　our　stove；　work…bench；　radio　table　and　housings　for　the　meteorological　instruments。　The　remaining　wall　by　the　tunnel　was　piled　with　tins　and　cases　of　food；　now　mostly　empties；　that　had　been　brought　in　from　the　runnel　to　begin　the　lengthy　process　of　defrosting。
　
　Slowly　I　surveyed　all　this；　then　as　slowly　surveyed　the　pany。　The　incongruity　of　the　contrast　reached　the　point　where　one　all　but　disbelieved　the　evidence　of　one's　own　eyes。　But　they　were　there　all　right；　and　I　was　stuck　with　them。　Everyone　had　stopped　talking　now　and　was　looking　at　me；　waiting　for　me　to　speak：　sitting　in　a　tight　semi…circle　round　the　stove；　they　were　huddled　together　and　shivering　in　the　freezing　cold。　The　only　sounds　in　the　room　were　the　clacking　of　the　anemometer　cups；　clearly　audible　down　the　ventilation　pipe；　the　faint　moaning　of　the　wind　on　the　ice…cap　and　the　hissing　of　our　pressure　Colman　lamp。　I　sighed　to　myself；　and　put　down　my　empty　glass。
　
　〃Well；　it　looks　as　if　you　are　going　to　be　our　guests　for　some　little　time；　so　we'd　better　introduce　ourselves。　Us　first。〃　I　nodded　to　where　Joss　and　Jackstraw　were　working　on　the　shattered　RCA；　which　they　had　lifted　back　on　the　table。　〃On　the　left；　Joseph　London；　of　the　city　of　London；　our　radio　operator。〃
　
　〃Unemployed；〃　Joss　muttered。
　
　〃On　the　right；　Nils　Nielsen。　Take　a　good　look　at　him；　ladies　and　gentlemen。　At　this　very　moment　the　guardian　angels