p&c.icelimit-第16部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　〃I　think；〃　he　said　aloud；　〃that　we'd　better　get　down　to　dinner。　If　we're　late；　that　captain　of　ours　will　probably　keelhaul　us。　And　that's　no　joke　on　a　tanker。〃
　
　Rolvaag；
　June　26；　12：55　A。M。
　
　THEY　STEPPED　out　of　the　elevator。　Here；　five　decks　closer　to　the　engines；　McFarlane　could　feel　a　deep；　regular　vibration：　still　faint；　yet　always　present　in　his　ears　and　his　bones。
　〃This　way；〃　Amira　said；　motioning　him　down　the　blue…and…white　corridor。
　McFarlane　followed；　glancing　around　as　they　went。　In　dry　dock；　he'd　spent　his　days　and　even　most　nights　in　the　container　labs　on　deck；　and　today　marked　his　first　time　inside　the　superstructure。　In　his　experience；　ships　were　cramped；　claustrophobic　spaces。　But　everything　about　the　Rolvaag　seemed　built　to　a　different　scale：　the　passages　were　wide；　the　cabins　and　public　areas　spacious　and　carpeted。　Glancing　into　doorways；　he　noticed　a　large…screen　theater　with　seats　for　at　least　fifty　people；　and　a　wood…paneled　library。　Then　they　rounded　a　corner；　Amira　pushed　open　a　door；　and　they　stepped　into　the　officer's　mess。
　McFarlane　stopped。　He　had　been　expecting　the　indifferent　dining　area　of　a　working　ship。　But　once　again　the　Rolvaag　surprised　him。　The　mess　was　a　vast　room；　extending　across　the　entire　aft　forecastle　deck。　Huge　windows　looked　out　onto　the　ship's　wake；　boiling　back　into　the　darkness。　A　dozen　round　tables；　each　set　for　eight　and　covered　with　crisp　linen　and　fresh　flowers；　were　arranged　around　the　center　of　the　room。　Dining　stewards　in　starched　uniforms　stood　at　their　stations。　McFarlane　felt　underdressed。
　Already；　people　were　beginning　to　gravitate　toward　the　tables。　McFarlane　had　been　warned　that　seating　arrangements　on　board　ship　were　regimented；　at　least　at　first；　and　that　he　was　expected　to　sit　at　the　captain's　table。　Glancing　around；　he　spotted　Glinn　standing　at　the　table　closest　to　the　windows。　He　made　his　way　across　the　dark　carpeting。
　Glinn　had　his　nose　in　a　small　volume；　which　he　quickly　slipped　into　his　pocket　as　they　approached。　Just　before　it　vanished；　McFarlane　caught　the　title：　Selected　Poetry　of　W。H。　Auden。　Glinn　had　never　struck　him　as　a　reader　of　poetry。　Perhaps　he　had　misjudged　the　man　after　all。
　〃Luxurious；〃　McFarlane　said　as　he　looked　around。　〃Especially　for　an　oil　tanker。〃
　〃Actually；　this　is　fairly　standard；〃　Glinn　replied。　〃On　such　a　large　vessel；　space　is　no　longer　at　a　premium。　These　ships　are　so　expensive　to　operate；　they　spend　practically　no　time　in　port。　That　means　the　crews　are　stuck　on　board　for　many；　many　months。　It　pays　to　keep　them　happy。〃
　More　people　were　taking　their　places　beside　the　tables；　and　the　noise　level　in　the　room　had　increased。　McFarlane　looked　around　at　the　cluster　of　technicians；　ship's　officers；　and　EES　specialists。　Things　had　happened　so　quickly　that　he　only　recognized　perhaps　a　dozen　of　the　seventy…odd　people　now　in　the　room。
　Then　quiet　fell　across　the　mess。　As　McFarlane　glanced　toward　the　door；　Britton；　the　captain　of　the　Rolvaag；　stepped　in。　He　had　known　she　was　a　woman；　but　he　wasn't　expecting　either　her　youth　…　she　couldn't　be　more　than　thirty…five　…　or　her　stately　bearing。　She　carried　herself　with　a　natural　dignity。　She　was　dressed　in　an　impeccable　uniform：　naval　blazer；　gold　buttons；　crisp　officer's　skirt。　Small　gold
　bars　were　affixed　to　her　graceful　shoulders。　She　came　toward　them　with　a　measured　step　that　radiated　petence　and　something　else　…　perhaps；　he　thought；　an　iron　will。
　The　captain　took　her　seat；　and　there　was　a　rustle　as　the　rest　of　the　room　followed　her　lead。　Britton　removed　her　hat；　revealing　a　tight　coil　of　blond　hair；　and　placed　it　on　a　small　side　table　that　seemed　specially　set　up　for　that　purpose。　As　McFarlane　looked　closer；　he　noticed　her　eyes　betrayed　a　look　older　than　her　years。
　A　graying　man　in　an　officer's　uniform　came　up　to　whisper　something　in　the　captain's　ear。　He　was　tall　and　thin；　with　dark　eyes　set　in　even　darker　sockets。　Britton　nodded　and　he　stepped　back；　glancing　around　the　table。　His　easy；　fluid　movements　reminded　McFarlane　of　a　large　predator。
　Britton　gestured　toward　him　with　an　upraised　palm。　〃I'd　like　to　introduce　the　Rolvaag's　chief　mate；　Victor　Howell。〃
　There　were　murmured　greetings；　and　the　man　nodded；　then　moved　away　to　take　his　position　at　the　head　of　a　nearby　table。　Glinn　spoke　quietly。　〃May　I　plete　the　introductions？〃
　〃Of　course；〃　the　captain　said。　She　had　a　clear；　clipped　voice；　with　the　faintest　trace　of　an　accent。
　〃This　is　the　Lloyd　Museum　meteorite　specialist；　Dr。　Sam　McFarlane。〃
　The　captain　grasped　McFarlane's　hand　across　the　table。　〃Sally　Britton；〃　she　said；　her　hand　cool　and　strong。　And　now　McFarlane　identified　the　accent　as　a　Scottish　burr。　〃Wele　aboard；　Dr。　McFarlane。〃
　〃And　this　is　Dr。　Rachel　Amira；　the　mathematician　on　my　team；〃　Glinn　continued；　continuing　around　the　table。　〃And　Eugene　Rochefort；　chief　engineer。〃
　Rochefort　glanced　up　with　a　nervous　little　nod；　his　intelligent；　obsessive　eyes　darting　about。　He　was　wearing　a　blue　blazer　that　might　have　looked　acceptable　if　it　had　not　been　made　of　polyester　that　shined　under　the　dining　room　lights。
　His　eyes　landed　on　McFarlane's；　then　darted　away　again。　He　seemed　ill　at　ease。
　〃And　this　is　Dr。　Patrick　Brambell；　the　ship's　doctor。　No　stranger　to　the　high　seas。〃
　Brambell　flashed　the　table　a　droll　smile　and　gave　a　little　Japanese　bow。　He　was　a　devious…looking　old　fellow　with　sharp　features；　fine　parallel　wrinkles　tracing　a　high　brow；　thin　stooped　shoulders；　and　a　head　as　glabrous　as　a　piece　of　porcelain。
　〃You've　worked　as　a　ship's　doctor　before？〃　Britton　inquired　politely。
　〃Never　set　foot　on　dry　land　if　I　can　help　it；〃　said　Brambell；　his　voice　wry　and　Irish。
　Britton　nodded　as　she　slipped　her　napkin　out　of　its　ring；　flicked　it　open；　and　laid　it　across　her　lap。　Her　movements；　her　fingers；　her　conversation　all　seemed　to　have　an　economy　of　motion；　an　unconscious　efficiency。　She　was　so　cool　and　poised　it　seemed　to　McFarlane　a　defense　of　some　kind。　As　he　picked　up　his　own　napkin；　he　noticed　a　card；　placed　in　the　center　of　the　table　in　a　silver　holder；　with　a　printed　menu。　It　read：　Consomme　Olga；　Lamb　Vindaloo；　Chicken　Lyonnaise；　Tiramisu。　He　gave　a　low　whistle。
　〃The　menu　not　to　your　liking；　Dr。　McFarlane？〃　Britton　asked。
　〃Just　the　opposite。　I　was　expecting　egg　salad　sandwiches　and　pistachio　ice　cream。〃
　〃Good　dining　is　a　shipboard　tradition；〃　said　Britton。　〃Our　chief　cook；　Mr。　Singh；　is　one　of　the　finest　chefs　afloat。　His　father　cooked　for　the　British　admiralty　in　the　days　of　the　Raj。〃
　〃Nothing　like　a　good　vindaloo　to　remind　you　of　your　mortality；〃　said　Brambell。
　〃First　things　first；〃　Amira　said；　rubbing　her　hands　and　looking　around。　〃Where's　the　bar　steward？　I'm　desperate　for　a　cocktail。〃
　〃We'll　be　sharing　that　bottle；〃　Glinn　said；　indicating　the　open　bottle　of　Chateau　Margaux　that　stood　beside　the　floral　display。
　〃Nice　wine。　But　there's　nothing　like　a　dry　Bombay　martini　before　dinner。　Even　when　dinner's　at　midnight。〃　Amira　laughed。
　Glinn　spoke　up。　〃I'm　sorry；　Rachel；　but　there　are　no　spiritous　liquors　allowed　on　board　the　ship。〃
　Amira　looked　at　Glinn。　〃Spiritous　liquors？〃　she　repeated　with　a　brief　laugh。　〃This　is　new；　Eli。　Have　you　joined　the　Christian　Women's　Temperance　League？〃
　Glinn　continued　smoothly。　〃The　captain　allows　one　glass　of　wine；　taken　before　or　with　dinner。　No　hard　liquor　on　the　ship。〃
　It　was　as　if　a　lightbulb　came　on　over　Amira's　head。　The　joking　look　was　replaced　by　a　sudden　flush。　Her　eyes　darted　toward　the　captain；　then　away　again。　〃Oh；〃　she　said。
　Following　Amira's　glance；　McFarlane　noticed　that　Britton's　face　had　turned　slightly　pale　under　her　tan。
　Glinn　was　still　looking　at　Amira；　whose　blush　continued　to　deepen。　〃I　think　you'll　find　the　quality　of　the　Bordeaux　makes　up　for　the　restriction。〃
　Amira　remained　silent；　embarrassment　clear　on　her　face。　Britton　took　the　bottle　and　filled　glasses　for　everyone　at　the　table　except　herself。　Whatever　the　mystery　was；　McFarlane　thought；　it　had　passed。　As　a　steward　slipped　a　plate　of　consomme　in　front　of　him；　he　made　a　mental　note　to　ask　Amira　about　it　later。
　The　noise　of　conversation　at　the　nearest　tables　rose　once　again；　filling　a　brief　and　awkward　silence。　At　the　nearest　table；　Manuel　Garza　was　buttering　a　slab　of　bread　with　his　beefy　paw　and　roaring　at　a　joke。
　〃What's　it　like　to　handle　a　ship　this　big？〃　McFarlane　asked。　It　was　not　simply　a　polite　question　to　fill　the　silence：　something　about　Britton　intrigued　him。　He　wanted　to　see　what　lay　under　that　lovely；　perfect　surface。
　Britton　took　a　spoonful　of　consomme。　〃In　some　ways；　these　new　tankers　practically　pilot　themselves。　I　keep　the　crew　running　smoothly　and　act　as　troubleshooter。　These　ships　don't　like　shallow　water；　they　don't　like　to　turn；　and　they　don't　like　surprises。〃　She　lowered　her　spoon。　〃My　job　is　to　make　sure　we　don't　encounter　any。〃
　〃Doesn't　it　go　against　the　grain；　manding…well　…　an　old　rust　bucket？〃
　Britton's　response　was　measured。　〃Certain　things　are　habitual　at　sea。　The　ship　won't　remain　this　way　forever。　I　intend　to　have　every　spare　hand　working　cleanup　detail　on　the　voyage　home。〃
　She　turned　toward　Glinn。　〃Speaking　of　that；　I'd　like　to　ask　you　a　favor。　This　expedition　of　ours　is