alistairmaclean.nightwithoutend-第10部分

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y　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　of　your　respective　insurance　panies　are　probably　putting　up　a　prayer　f　46r　his　continued　well…being。　If　you　all　live　to　e　home　again；　〃toe　chances　are　that　you　will　owe　it　to　him。〃　I　was　to　remember　my　own　words　later。　〃He　probably　knows　more　than　any　man　living　about　survival　on　the　Greenland　ice…cap。〃
　
　〃I　thought　you　called　him　'Jackstraw'。〃　Marie　LeGarde　murmured。
　
　〃My　Eskimo　name。〃　Jackstraw　had　turned　and　smiled　at　her；　his　parka　hood　off　for　the　first　time；　I　could　see　her　polite　astonishment　as　she　looked　at　the　fair　hair；　the　blue　eyes；　and　it　was　as　if　Jackstraw　read　her　thoughts。　〃Two　of　my　grandparents　were　Danish…most　of　us　Greenlanders　have　as　much　Danish　blood　as　Eskimo　in　us　nowadays。〃　I　was　surprised　to　hear　him　talk　like　this；　and　it　was　a　tribute　to　Marie　LeGarde's　personality：　his　pride　in　his　Eskimo　background　was　equalled　only　by　his　touchiness　on　the　subject。
　
　〃Well；　well；　how　interesting。〃　The　expensive　young　lady　was　sitting　back　on　her　box；　hands　clasped　round　an　expensively…nyloned　knee；　her　expression　reflecting　accurately　the　well…bred　condescension　of　her　tone。　〃My　very　first　Eskimo。〃
　
　〃Don't　be　afraid；　lady。〃　Jackstraw's　smile　was　wider　than　ever；　and　I　felt　more　than　vaguely　uneasy；　his　almost　invariable　Eskimo　cheerfulness　and　good　nature　concealed　an　explosive　temper　which　he'd　probably　inherited　from　some　far　distant　Viking　forebear。　〃It　doesn't　rub　off。〃
　
　The　silence　that　followed　could　hardly　be　described　as　panionable；　and　I　rushed　in　quickly。
　
　〃My　own　name　is　Mason；　Peter　Mason；　and　I'm　in　charge　of　this　IGY　station。　You　all　know　roughly　what　we're　doing　stuck　out　here　on　the　plateau…meteorology；　glaciology；　the　study　of　the　earth's　magnetism；　the　borealis；　airglow；　ionosphere；　cosmic　rays；　magnetic　storms　and　a　dozen　other　things　which　I　suppose　are　equally　uninteresting　to　you。〃　I　waved　my　arm。　〃We　don't；　as　you　can　see；　normally　live　here　alone。　Five　others　are　away　to　the　north　on　a　field　expedition。　They're　due　back　in　about　three　weeks；　after　which　we　all　pack　up　and　abandon　this　place　before　the　wi