cc.floodtide-第76部分

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　Luck；　The　Bayou　Kid
　
　〃Who's　Romberg？〃　asked　Pitt。
　
　Giordino　stepped　out　of　the　doorway　and　without　ment　pointed　inside　at　a　bloodhound　lying　on　his　back　with　his　paws　in　the　air；　big　floppy　ears　splayed　to　the　sides；　his　tongue　half　hanging　out。
　
　〃Is　he　dead？〃
　〃He　might　as　well　be；　for　all　the　enthusiasm　he's　shown　at　my　presence；〃　said　Giordino。　〃He　hasn't　twitched　or　blinked　an　eye　since　I　came　on　board。〃
　〃What　is　so　unusual　about　the　engine？〃
　〃You've　got　to　see　this。〃　Giordino　led　the　way　through　the　one　room　that　posed　the　living　room；　bedroom；　and　kitchen　of　the　shantyboat　to　a　trapdoor　in　the　floor。　He　lifted　the　cover　and　pointed　below　into　the　pact　engine　room　in　the　hull。　〃A　Ford　427…cubic…inch　V…8　with　dual　quad　carburetors。　An　oldie　but　goodie。　It's　got　to　have　at　least　four　hundred　horsepower。〃
　〃Probably　closer　to　four　hundred　twenty…five；〃　said　Pitt；　admiring　the　powerful　engine　that　appeared　in　immaculate　condition。　〃How　the　old　man　must　have　laughed　after　I　asked　him　if　the　engine　could　move　the　boat　against　the　river　current。〃
　〃As　big　as　this　floating　shack　is；〃　said　Giordino；　〃I'd　guess　we　could　make　close　to　twenty…five　miles　an　hour　if　we　had　to。〃
　〃Keep　it　slow　and　easy。　We　don't　want　to　look　like　we're　in　a　hurry。〃
　〃How　far　is　the　canal？〃
　〃I　haven't　measured　the　distance；　but　it　looks　to　be　close　to　sixty　miles。〃
　〃We'll　want　to　get　there　sometime　before　sunset；〃　said　Giordino；　mentally　calculating　a　leisurely　cruising　speed。
　〃I'll　cast　off。　You　take　the　helm　and　head　her　into　the　channel　while　I　store　the　groceries。〃
　
　Giordino　needed　no　coaxing。　He　couldn't　wait　to　start　the　big　427　Ford　and　feel　its　torque。　He　hit　the　starter　and　it　rumbled　into　life　with　a　mean　and　nasty　growl。　He　let　it　idle　for　a　few　moments；　savoring　the　sound。　It　did　not　turn　over　smoothly；　but　loped。　It　was　too　good　to　believe；　Giordino　thought　to　himself。　The　engine　was　not　stock。　It　was　modified　and　tuned　for　racing。　〃My　God；〃　he　murmured　to　himself。　〃It's　far　more　powerful　than　we　thought。〃
　
　Knowing　without　a　shade　of　doubt　Giordino　would　soon　get　carried　away　and　push　the　engine　throttle　to　its　stop；　Pitt　secured　the　groceries　so　they　wouldn't　end　up　on　the　deck。　Then　he　stepped　over　the　sleeping　Romberg；　went　out　onto　the　forward　veranda　and　relaxed　in　a　lawn　chair；　but　not　before　bracing　his　feet　against　the　bulwark　and　wrapping　his　arm　around　the　railing。
　
　Giordino　waited　until　the　Atchafalaya　River　was　clear　and　there　were　no　boats　in　sight。　He　laid　out　the　nautical　chart　of　the　river　provided　by　Doug　Wheeler　and　studied　the　river　depths　ahead。　Then；　true　to　form；　he　increased　the　speed　of　the　old　shantyboat　until　the　flat　nose　bow　was　a　good　foot　above　the　water　and　the　stern　was　burrowed；　cutting　a　wide　groove　across　the　surface。　To　see　such　an　ungainly　craft　barreling　upriver　at　better　than　thirty…five　miles　an　hour　was　an　extraordinary　and　incongruous　sight。　On　the　forward　veranda；　the　wind　resistance　and　the　raised　angle　of　the　bow　pressed　Pitt　back　against　the　wall　of　the　house　with　such　force　he　felt　constrained　and　barely　able　to　move。
　
　Finally；　after　about　two　miles　of　spreading　a　three…foot…high　wash　behind　the　shantyboat　that　swept　into　the　marshlands　and　splayed　the　unbroken　green　mat　of　water　hyacinth　that　spread　from　the　river　channel；　Giordino　observed　two　small　fishing　boats　approaching　on　their　way　to　Morgan　City。　He　eased　back　the　throttle　and　brought　the　shantyboat　to　a　crawl。　The　water　hyacinth　is　a　pretty　plant　but　is　a　disaster　to　inland　waterways；　growing　at　a　prolific　rate　and　choking　off　streams　and　bayous。　They　are　kept　afloat　by　their　stems　full　of　air　bladders。　The　hyacinth　sprouts　beautiful　lavender…pink　flowers；　but　unlike　most　other　flowering　plants；　it　smells　like　a　fertilizer　factory　when　pulled　from　the　water。
　
　Feeling　as　if　he　had　survived　a　roller…coaster　ride；　Pitt　returned　inside；　retrieved　the　topographical　map　and　began　studying　the　twists　and　turns　in　the　river　as　well　as　familiarizing　himself　with　the　network　of　swampy　bayous　and　lakes　between　Wheeler's　Landing　and　the　canal　dug　by　Qin　Shang　Maritime。　He　traced　and　pared　the　landmarks　and　river　bends　with　those　on　the　map。　It　was　refreshing　to　sit　fortably　in　the　shade　of　the　veranda　overhang　and　experience　the　pleasant　sensation　of　traveling　smoothly　over　timeless　waters　that　only　a　boat　can　provide。　Riverbank　vegetation　varied　from　mile　to　mile。　Thick　forests　with　willows；　cotton…woods　and　cypresses　interspersed　with　berry　bushes；　and　wild　grapevines　slowly　gave　way　to　a　moist；　primeval　swamp；　a　prairie　of　soaring　reeds　swaying　under　a　light　breeze　that　swept　off　to　the　horizon。　A　lone　cypress　rose　majestically　out　of　the　grass　like　a　frigate　on　the　sea。　He　saw　herons　walking　on　their　long；　sticklike　legs　along　the　fringe　of　water；　their　necks　bent　into　an　S　shape　as　they　pecked　for　food　in　the　mud。
　
　To　a　hunter　kayaking　or　paddling　a　canoe　through　the　swamps　of　southern　Louisiana；　the　trick　was　to　find　a　firm　piece　of　ground　on　which　to　pitch　a　tent　for　the　night。　Duckweed　and　hyacinth　floated　on　much　of　the　open　water。　Forests　grew　from　the　brackish　muck；　not　dry　land。　It　was　hard　for　Pitt　to　imagine　that　all　the　water　he　could　see　came　from　as　far　away　as　Ontario　and　Manitoba；　North　Dakota　and　Minnesota；　and　every　state　below。　Only　behind　the　safety　of　thousands　of　miles　of　levee　systems　did　people　cultivate　farms　and　build　cities　and　towns。　It　was　a　landscape　unlike　any　he'd　ever　seen。
　
　The　day　was　pleasantly　cool；　with　just　enough　breeze　to　make　small　waves　across　the　surface　of　the　water。　The　hours　rolled　by　as　if　time　was　as　limitless　as　space。　As　idyllic　as　the　lazy　cruise　up　the　river　seemed；　they　were　on　serious　business　that　could　easily　be　the　cause　of　their　deaths。　There　could　be　no　mistakes；　no　errors　in　planning　their　reconnaissance　of　the　mysterious　canal。
　
　A　few　minutes　after　noon；　Pitt　took　a　salami　sandwich　and　a　bottle　of　beer　up　to　Giordino　in　the　little　wheelhouse　on　the　roof。　Pitt　offered　to　take　the　helm；　but　Giordino　wouldn't　hear　of　it。　He　was　having　too　much　fun；　so　Pitt　returned　to　his　chair　on　the　veranda。
　
　Although　time　seemed　to　have　no　meaning；　Pitt's　hours　were　neither　idle　nor　aimless。　He　spent　the　time　laying　out　their　diving　equipment。　He　unpacked　and　adjusted　the　controls　on　the　little　AUV　he　had　used　at　Orion　Lake。　Lastly；　he　removed　the　night…vision　goggles　from　their　case　and　laid　them　on　the　cushions　of　an　old；　worn　sofa。
　
　Shortly　after　five　o'clock　in　the　afternoon；　Pitt　stepped　inside　the　house　and　stood　at　the　base　of　the　ladder　leading　up　to　the　pilothouse　on　the　roof。　〃One　half　mile　before　we　reach　the　mouth　of　the　canal；〃　he　alerted　Giordino。　〃Move　on　past　another　half　mile　to　the　next　bayou。　Then　swing　a　turn　to　starboard。〃
　
　〃What's　it　called？〃　asked　Giordino。
　〃Hooker's　Bayou；　but　don't　bother　looking　for　a　sign　at　the　intersection。　Take　it　for　about　six　miles　to　where　the　map　shows　an　abandoned　dock　by　a　capped　oil　well。　We'll　tie　up　there　and　have　dinner　while　we　wait　for　darkness。〃
　
　Giordino　eased　the　shantyboat　around　a　long　string　of　barges　pushed　downriver　by　a　large　towboat。　The　captain　of　the　tow…boat　gave　a　blast　from　his　air　horn　as　they　passed；　no　doubt　thinking　the　owner　was　on　board　the　shantyboat。　Pitt　had　returned　to　his　chair　on　the　bow　and　waved。　Using　a　pair　of　binoculars；　he　scrutinized　the　canal　as　they　crossed　its　mouth。　It　was　carved　in　a　perfectly　straight　course　nearly　a　quarter　of　a　mile　wide　that　seemed　to　roll　like　a　green　carpet　over　the　horizon。　A　rusty　chain　stretched　across　the　mouth　and　was　attached　to　concrete　pilings。　Large；　billboard…sized　signs　were　raised　with　red　letters　against　a　background　of　white　that　said；
　
　NO　TRESPASSING。　ANYONE　CAUGHT　ON　QIN　SHANG　MARITIME　PROPERTY　WILL　BE　PROSECUTED。
　
　Small　wonder　the　local　residents　hate　Qin　Shang；　thought　Pitt。　He　seriously　doubted　that　the　local　sheriff　would　go　out　of　his　way　to　arrest　friends　and　neighbors　for　hunting　or　fishing　on　foreign…owned　property。
　
　Forty　minutes　later；　Giordino　eased　back　on　the　throttle　and　swung　the　bulky　shantyboat　from　the　narrow　channel　of　Hooker's　Bayou　and　crept　to　a　halt　toward　the　remains　of　a　concrete　pier；　nudging　the　flat；　raked　bow　onto　a　low　bank。　Stenciled　lettering　on　the　concrete　pilings　read；　CHEROKEE　OIL　PANY；　BATON　ROUGE；　LOUISIANA。　The　boat　had　no　anchor；　so　they　took　up　long　poles　that　were　tied　to　the　catwalks　for　the　purpose　and　rammed　them　into　the　mud。　Then　they　tied　the　mooring　lines　from　the　boat　to　the　poles。　Lastly；　a　gangplank　was　run　out　onto　firm　ground。
　
　〃I　have　a　contact　on　radar　moving　across　the　marsh　from　the　southeast；〃　Giordino　calmly　reported。
　〃They're　ing　from　the　direction　of　the　Mystic　Canal。〃
　〃They're　ing　fast；〃　Giordino　said　in　a　deliberate　tone。
　〃Shang's　security　didn't　waste　any　time　tagging　us。〃　Pitt　went　inside　and　returned　with　a　large　square　net　with　vertical　supports　he'd　found　on　the　aft　veranda。　〃Drag　Romberg　out　here　and　get　yourself　a　bottle　of　beer。〃
　Giordino　looked　at　the　net。　〃You　think　you're　going　to　catch　crab　for　dinner？〃
　〃No；〃　Pitt　answered；　catching　a　glint　fr