p&c.icelimit-第80部分
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prised at how long it was taking to regain his breath。 He clung as the ship heeled； an alarming angle； admittedly； but still beneath the critical limit of thirty…five degrees。 He could hear the slippage of chains； the protests of metal； below his feet。 At last； the ship began to right itself with a groan。 A tragedy； that after all he had done … the quite extraordinary successes he had engineered … they were not willing to trust him this one last time。 All but Puppup。 He glanced toward the old man。
〃Heading down there； guv？〃
Glinn nodded。 〃I'll need your help。〃
〃'At's what I'm here for。〃
They stepped to the edge of the catwalk。 There below sat the rock； the top of its surrounding web swathed in plastic tarps。 The emergency lights bathed it in a dim light。 The tank was still holding nicely； staying dry。 It was a superb ship。 The triple hulling made all the difference。 Even covered with tarps the rock looked magnificent； the epicenter of their terrors and hopes。 It was resting in its cradle； just as he knew it would be。
Then his eyes flickered down to the struts and braces。 There was； it had to be admitted； a great deal of damage： bent spars； pression fractures； sheared metal。 The transverse web brackets along the bottom of the tank were littered with broken rivets； snapped chains； and splintered wood。 He could hear a residual creaking and groaning。 But the web was still essentially intact。
The elevator was broken； however。 He began climbing down。
The ship rose； heeling again。
Glinn steadied himself； then continued descending。 It took longer than he thought it would； and by the time he had reached the bottom he felt more horizontal than vertical … splayed upon； rather than clinging to； the ladder。 Hooking an elbow to it； he braced himself； waiting it out。 Now he could see； under the tarps； the red flank of the rock。 The sounds in the hold were growing； like some infernal symphony of metal； but they signified nothing。 Toward the top of the roll he slipped out his pocket watch and held it at arm's length； dangling it from its chain； estimating the roll。 Twenty…five degrees： well below critical value。
He heard a sudden muttering； groaning noise； and the massive crimson curve of the meteorite seemed to stir。 The ship heeled farther； the meteorite moved with it； until Glinn was not sure whether the ship was shifting the meteorite or vice versa。 The meteorite now seemed poised at the edge of its cradle； ready to tip out。 There was a crackling； splintering sound。 Twenty…seven degrees。 Twentyeight。
The ship shuddered； paused； then began to right itself。 Glinn eased out a breath。 Twenty…eight degrees。 Well within tolerances。 The meteorite shifted back into its cradle with a monstrous shudder。 Abruptly； the screech of metal stopped。 The screaming of the wind and water outside the hull abated as the ship sank down。
His eyes scanned the tank。 What was necessary here was to tighten the chains closest to the meteorite。 They had been designed so that one person could do it； using a motor…assisted 〃e…along〃 anchored to each tightening point。 He was surprised Garza hadn't done this already。
Quickly； he scrambled to the main tightening point and switched on the key motor…assist。 It lit up … in perfect working order； of course。
The ship continued to subside into the oning trough； giving him some peace and stability in which to work。
Glinn pulled the forward lever on the motor…assist； and was pleased to see the big rubber…coated chains that had e loose in the rocking of the meteorite tighten again。 Why hadn't Garza done this？ The reason was clear： he had panicked。 Glinn felt a momentary disappointment at his trusted construction manager。 This wasn't like Garza； not like him at all。 So many had failed him； but at least he had failed no one。
The chains were tightening nicely； and he turned to Puppup。 〃Take this toolbox；〃 he said； indicating a box left in Garza's retreat。
The ship rose； the roll began； the chains began to strain。 And then； with a sharp ratcheting noise； the chains loosened。 Glinn peered closely in the dim light。 He saw that； in fact； Garza had already tried it。 The gears on the motor…assist had been stripped； and the four…inch steel ratchet head had sheared off。 The assist was useless。
The ship began to rise。 And then he heard a voice from above。 He ducked out from the web and glanced up。 Sally Britton was stepping through the hatchway onto the catwalk。 She carried herself with the same natural dignity that had struck him so forcefully the first time he had seen her； ing down those sun…drenched steps； ages and ages ago。 His heart gave an unexpected lurch。 She had changed her mind： she would stay with the ship。
Britton had to pause during the long； screeching roll。 They stared at each other while the meteorite rocked in its cradle and the ship screamed its pain。 When it was over she called out again。 〃Eli！ The ship's about to break up！〃
Glinn felt sharp disappointment： there had been no change in her thinking after all。 But all this was a distraction。 He focused his attention on the cradle again。 Now he saw it： the way to lock down the rock was to tighten the topchain bolt at the summit of the meteorite。 It would mean cutting through the tarp。 It was a simple matter； requiring no more than six inches of hand tightening。 He began climbing up the nearest chain。
〃Eli； please！ There's an extra lifeboat in reserve for us。 Leave this thing and e with me！〃
Glinn pulled himself up； Puppup following with the toolbox。 He needed to focus his mind on the objective； not suffer distractions。
Reaching the crown of the meteorite； he found to his surprise a small flap already cut in the tarp。 Beneath； the topchain bolt was loose； as he expected。 As the ship rose out of the trough and began to heel yet again； he fitted the wrench around the nut； anchored the bolt with a second wrench； and began to tighten。
Nothing moved。 He had not prehended … could not prehend … what tremendous； what unimaginable pressure the bolt was under。
〃Hold this wrench；〃 he said。 Puppup obliged； grabbing it with his sinewy arms。
The ship canted farther。
〃e back to the bridge with me； Eli；〃 Britton said。 〃There may still be time to trigger the switch。 Both of us might yet live。〃
Glinn glanced up for an instant from his struggle with the bolt。 There was no pleading in her voice … that was not Sally Britton's way。 He heard patience； reason； and utter conviction。 It made him sad。 〃Sally；〃 he said； 〃the only people who are going to die are the foolish ones in the lifeboats。 If you stay here； you'll survive。〃
〃I know my ship； Eli；〃 was all she said。
Kneeling； hunched over the topchain bolt； he struggled with the nut。 Someone else had tried this before him： there were fresh marks on the metal。 As the ship heeled； he felt the meteorite shift； and he anchored himself more firmly； both feet braced against the links。 He strained to the limits of extremity； but it did not move。 Gasping； he refitted the wrench。
Still the ship heeled。
Britton spoke out of the darkness above； her voice rising above the sound。 〃Eli； I would like to have that dinner with you。 I don't know much about poetry； but what I know I could share with you。 I would like to share it with you。〃
The meteorite shuddered； and Glinn found himself gripping with both hands as the meteorite tipped with the ship。 There were ropes up here； fastened to the frame plates of the tank； and he quickly lashed one around his waist to keep his position。 He returned to the wrench。 A quarter turn； that was all he needed。 The yawing of the ship slowed and he once again grasped the handle of the wrench。
〃And I could love you。 Eli。。。〃
Glinn stopped suddenly and stared up at Britton。 She tried to speak again； but her voice was drowned out by the rising shriek of tortured metal； echoing madly in the vast space。 All he could see was her small figure on the catwalk above。 Her golden hair had bee unpinned and lay wildly across her shoulders； glowing even in the dim light。
As he stared； he became dimly aware that the ship was not leveling out。 He looked away from her； first at the bolt； then at Puppup。 The man was grinning； his long thin mustaches dripping water。 Glinn felt a surge of anger at himself for not focusing on the problem at hand。
〃The wrench！〃 he called to Puppup over the screaming of metal。
The ship was very far over； the sounds of metal deafening。 With a hand he wished was steadier； Glinn took out his pocket watch to once again calculate the inclination； he held it up but it swung back and forth。 As he tried to steady it； the watch slipped through his fingers and shattered against the flank of the rock； he saw little glints of gold and glass skittering along the red surface and disappearing into the depths。
The yawing seemed to accelerate with a brutal suddenness。 Or was it his imagination？ Surely none of this could be real。 Double overage had been brought to bear； the calculations run and rerun； every possible path to failure accounted for。
And then he felt the meteorite begin to move beneath him； and there was a tearing sound as the tarps rent and the web unraveled； the sudden red of the meteorite filling his field of vision like the o
