[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
The answer, of course, was simple enough; go down
there, locate the suction, and clear it. He thought of it,
and shuddered thought of the dead blackness so
impenetrable that directions ceased to have any
meaning, of kneeling in gasoline and running his arms
down in it while the flaming torch that was Barney
Gifford did its frenzied and spasmodic dance along the
perimeter of his mind. He mopped sweat from his face.
Well, she thinks you re a grown man; either go down and
do it, or go up there and tell her that she s wrong. It s all
mental, anyway; as long as there s nothing to set it off,
it s harmless, provided you come up for air before you
breathe too much of it. He began taking off his clothes.
He put the gun and his watch and sneakers on the seat
beside them so he could find them in the darkness, and
went down the ladder clad only in his shorts.
At the bottom, he turned and faced aft, visualizing the
location of the pump. The cabin sole was dry here, near
amidships; the gasoline that had come out of the bilge
was out near the bulkhead as she lay over on her side. He
could hear it still running out of the tanks, but not as
strongly now. Kneeling, he groped around until he found
the access hatch, and lifted it out. He started to think of
Barney, and the nightmare began to crowd in around the
edge of his mind. He pushed it back and concentrated
coldly on the job. The fumes were choking him; it was
time to go up for air. He went up the ladder until his
head and shoulders were out of the hatch, breathed
deeply for two or three minutes, and returned. Locating
Aground 126
the opening, he groped around in the gasoline beneath it,
but couldn t find the bilge pump suction. He stepped
down into it, in gasoline up to his knees, knelt down, and
felt further aft. There it was. He could feel the soggy
mass of papers around it. The fumes were beginning to
make him sick now. He pulled the papers out and threw
them toward the starboard side of the cabin. Then he
became aware that there were more, both on the bottom
under his feet and floating free where he had stirred
them up with his splashing around. He felt one brush
against his hand, caught it, and lifted it out, and from its
size and shape he was pretty sure what it was. Somebody
had stored cans of food in the bilges without removing
the labels.
He swore softly in the darkness, and managed to fish
out three more. A bullet tore through the planking with a
splintering sound and slapped into the bulkhead
somewhere just forward of him. He shuddered, thinking
of the electrical circuits, but went on groping. Then it
occurred to him that he was doing more harm than good.
As long as they were lying on the bottom they probably
wouldn t get into the suction, but he was stirring up more
than he was getting out. He climbed back to the cockpit,
wiped the gasoline off his legs and arms with the towel,
and began pumping. In five minutes the suction was
clogged again.
He went down into the blackness and the fumes and
the border country of nightmare once more, and was
crouched knee-deep in gasoline with his face just above
its surface when he froze suddenly and the skin along his
back drew tight with the stabbing of a thousand needles.
It was a sound, the familiar, homelike throbbing of an
electrical appliance nobody ever really listened to the
refrigerator motor. He d forgotten all about it until now;
the thermostat had tripped, and it had come on. He
waited for the white and blinding flash of the explosion.
Nothing happened. Seconds ticked away. His legs were
trembling, but he breathed again, softly, almost
tentatively, as though even daring to hope might tip the
scales the other way.
There was nothing he could do. He could go forward to
the galley and disconnect it, but breaking the circuit
while there was a load on it would cause a spark. None of
the switches or electrical fittings aboard were vapor-
Aground 127
proof. He went on waiting. A full minute must have gone
by now. Maybe the fumes weren t as dense up there,
since the bulk of the gasoline was aft. Strength began to
return to his legs and arms, and his mind cleared
sufficiently to warn him of the other and ever-present
danger asphyxiation. He hurriedly cleared the pump
suction and went back up the ladder. The motor was still
humming its industrious way along the edge of eternity.
He caught the pump handle, and for a second he was
conscious of a crazy impulse to laugh and wondered if
he d begun to crack. Even this simple act of pumping the
stuff overboard could blow it up; the friction of the
gasoline against the walls of the pipe and against the air
and the water as it fell over the side into the sea
generated enough static electricity to set it off. Except
for the saving grace of the almost saturated humidity
around them, they d probably be dead already. He went
on pumping. After a while you get numb, he thought; you
can t absorb any more, so it rolls off. This time it was
nearly ten minutes before the pump clogged. As the
trickle died and silence closed over the boat once more,
he became aware that the refrigerator motor had cut out.
He went below, groped his way forward, and pulled out
the plug. He cleared the suction, and returned to the
pump. In less than two minutes it choked off again. He
went below and cleared it. When he came back he
vomited over the side and his skin was inflamed and
itching from immersion in the gasoline. He pumped. It
was scarcely twenty strokes before the stream died to a
trickle and quit. He sat down on the cockpit seat.
It was hopeless. He was never going to pump it
overboard until it was light down there and he could see
those papers and get them all out at once. Dipping the
towel over the side to wet it, he scrubbed at his legs and
arms in an attempt to get some of the gasoline off them,
and put his clothes back on. The taste of defeat was
bitter in his mouth and he wanted to smash his fists
against the deck. Maybe they would never get the
Dragoon off. They were doomed to stay here forever or
until some random spark blew them into flaming
wreckage. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl aikidobyd.xlx.pl
The answer, of course, was simple enough; go down
there, locate the suction, and clear it. He thought of it,
and shuddered thought of the dead blackness so
impenetrable that directions ceased to have any
meaning, of kneeling in gasoline and running his arms
down in it while the flaming torch that was Barney
Gifford did its frenzied and spasmodic dance along the
perimeter of his mind. He mopped sweat from his face.
Well, she thinks you re a grown man; either go down and
do it, or go up there and tell her that she s wrong. It s all
mental, anyway; as long as there s nothing to set it off,
it s harmless, provided you come up for air before you
breathe too much of it. He began taking off his clothes.
He put the gun and his watch and sneakers on the seat
beside them so he could find them in the darkness, and
went down the ladder clad only in his shorts.
At the bottom, he turned and faced aft, visualizing the
location of the pump. The cabin sole was dry here, near
amidships; the gasoline that had come out of the bilge
was out near the bulkhead as she lay over on her side. He
could hear it still running out of the tanks, but not as
strongly now. Kneeling, he groped around until he found
the access hatch, and lifted it out. He started to think of
Barney, and the nightmare began to crowd in around the
edge of his mind. He pushed it back and concentrated
coldly on the job. The fumes were choking him; it was
time to go up for air. He went up the ladder until his
head and shoulders were out of the hatch, breathed
deeply for two or three minutes, and returned. Locating
Aground 126
the opening, he groped around in the gasoline beneath it,
but couldn t find the bilge pump suction. He stepped
down into it, in gasoline up to his knees, knelt down, and
felt further aft. There it was. He could feel the soggy
mass of papers around it. The fumes were beginning to
make him sick now. He pulled the papers out and threw
them toward the starboard side of the cabin. Then he
became aware that there were more, both on the bottom
under his feet and floating free where he had stirred
them up with his splashing around. He felt one brush
against his hand, caught it, and lifted it out, and from its
size and shape he was pretty sure what it was. Somebody
had stored cans of food in the bilges without removing
the labels.
He swore softly in the darkness, and managed to fish
out three more. A bullet tore through the planking with a
splintering sound and slapped into the bulkhead
somewhere just forward of him. He shuddered, thinking
of the electrical circuits, but went on groping. Then it
occurred to him that he was doing more harm than good.
As long as they were lying on the bottom they probably
wouldn t get into the suction, but he was stirring up more
than he was getting out. He climbed back to the cockpit,
wiped the gasoline off his legs and arms with the towel,
and began pumping. In five minutes the suction was
clogged again.
He went down into the blackness and the fumes and
the border country of nightmare once more, and was
crouched knee-deep in gasoline with his face just above
its surface when he froze suddenly and the skin along his
back drew tight with the stabbing of a thousand needles.
It was a sound, the familiar, homelike throbbing of an
electrical appliance nobody ever really listened to the
refrigerator motor. He d forgotten all about it until now;
the thermostat had tripped, and it had come on. He
waited for the white and blinding flash of the explosion.
Nothing happened. Seconds ticked away. His legs were
trembling, but he breathed again, softly, almost
tentatively, as though even daring to hope might tip the
scales the other way.
There was nothing he could do. He could go forward to
the galley and disconnect it, but breaking the circuit
while there was a load on it would cause a spark. None of
the switches or electrical fittings aboard were vapor-
Aground 127
proof. He went on waiting. A full minute must have gone
by now. Maybe the fumes weren t as dense up there,
since the bulk of the gasoline was aft. Strength began to
return to his legs and arms, and his mind cleared
sufficiently to warn him of the other and ever-present
danger asphyxiation. He hurriedly cleared the pump
suction and went back up the ladder. The motor was still
humming its industrious way along the edge of eternity.
He caught the pump handle, and for a second he was
conscious of a crazy impulse to laugh and wondered if
he d begun to crack. Even this simple act of pumping the
stuff overboard could blow it up; the friction of the
gasoline against the walls of the pipe and against the air
and the water as it fell over the side into the sea
generated enough static electricity to set it off. Except
for the saving grace of the almost saturated humidity
around them, they d probably be dead already. He went
on pumping. After a while you get numb, he thought; you
can t absorb any more, so it rolls off. This time it was
nearly ten minutes before the pump clogged. As the
trickle died and silence closed over the boat once more,
he became aware that the refrigerator motor had cut out.
He went below, groped his way forward, and pulled out
the plug. He cleared the suction, and returned to the
pump. In less than two minutes it choked off again. He
went below and cleared it. When he came back he
vomited over the side and his skin was inflamed and
itching from immersion in the gasoline. He pumped. It
was scarcely twenty strokes before the stream died to a
trickle and quit. He sat down on the cockpit seat.
It was hopeless. He was never going to pump it
overboard until it was light down there and he could see
those papers and get them all out at once. Dipping the
towel over the side to wet it, he scrubbed at his legs and
arms in an attempt to get some of the gasoline off them,
and put his clothes back on. The taste of defeat was
bitter in his mouth and he wanted to smash his fists
against the deck. Maybe they would never get the
Dragoon off. They were doomed to stay here forever or
until some random spark blew them into flaming
wreckage. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]