alistairmaclean.bearisland-第5节

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easick　indeed。　He　looked　at　me；　forced　a　pale　smile　that　was　half　apology；　half　recognition；　then　looked　away　again。　I　felt　sorry　for　him　as　he　lay　there　but　then　I'd　felt　sorry　for　him　ever　since　he'd　stepped　aboard　the　Morning　Rose。　A　man　dedicated　to　his　craft；　lean；　hollow…checked；　nervous　；　and　perpetually　balanced　on　what　seemed　to　be　the　knife　edge　of　agonising　decisions；　he　walked　softly　and　talked　softly　as　if　he　were　perpetually　afraid　that　the　gods　might　hear　him。　It　could　have　been　a　meaningless　mannerism　but　I　didn't　think　so：　no　question；　he　walked　in　perpetual　fear　of　Gerran　who　was　at　no　pains　to　conceal　the　fact　that　he　despised　him　as　a　man　just　as　much　as　he　admired　him　as　an　artist。　Why　Gerran；　a　man　of　indisputably　high　intelligence；　should　behave　in　this　way；　I　didn't　know。　Perhaps　he　was　one　of　that　far　from　small　group　of　people　who　harbour　such　an　inexhaustible　fund　of　ill　will　towards　mankind　in　general　that　they　lose　no　opportunity　to　vent　some　of　it　on　the　weak；　the　pliant　or　those　who　are　in　no　position　to　retaliate。　Perhaps　it　was　a　personal　matter。　I　didn't　know　either　man　or　their　respective　backgrounds　well　enough　to　form　a　valid　judgement。
　〃Ah；　〃he's　the　good　healer；〃　a　gravelly　voice　said　behind　me。　I　turned　round　without　haste　and　looked　at　the　pyjama…clad　figure　sitting　up　in　his　bunk；　holding　fast　with　his　left　hand　to　a　bulkhead　strap　while　with　the　other　he　clung　equally　firmly　to　the　neck　of　a　Scotch　bottle；　three　parts　empty。　〃Up　the　ship　es　and　down　the　ship　goes　but　naught　will　e　between　the　kindly　shepherd　and　his　mission　of　mercy　to　his　queasy　flock。　You　will　join　me　in　a　post…prandial　snifter；　my　good　man？〃
　〃Later；　Lonnie；　later。〃　Lonnie　Gilbert　knew　and　I　knew　and　we　both　knew　that　the　other　knew　that　later　would　be　too　late；　three　inches　of　Scotch　in　Lonnie's　hands　had　as　much　hope　as　the　last　meringue　at　the　vicar's　tea　party；　but　the　conventions　had　been　observed；　honour　satisfied。　
　〃You　weren't　at　dinner；　so　I　thought…〃
　〃Dinner！〃　He　paused；　examined　the　word　he'd　just　said　for　inflexion　and　intonation；　decided　his　delivery　had　been　lacking　in　a　proper　contempt　and　repeated　himself。　〃Dinner！　Not　the　hogwash　itself　which　I　suppose　is　palatable　enough　for　those　who　lack　my　esoteric　tastes。　Les　the　hour　at　which　it's　served。　Barbaric。　Even　Attila　the　Hun…〃
　〃You　mean　you　no　sooner　pour　your　aperitif　than　the　bell　goes？〃
　〃Exactly。　What　does　a　man　do？〃
　ing　from　our　elderly　production　manager；　the　question　was　purely　rhetorical。　Despite　the　baby…clear　blue　eyes　and　faultless　enunciation　Lonnie　hadn't　been　sober　since　he'd　stepped　aboard　the　Morning　Rose：　it　was　widely　questioned　whether　he'd　been　sober　for　years。　Nobody　least　of　all　Lonnie…seemed　to　care　about　this；　but　this　was　not　because　nobody　cared　about　Lonnie。　Nearly　all　people　did；　in　greater　or　lesser　degrees；　dependent　on　their　own　natures。　Lonnie；　growing　old　now；　with　all　his　life　in　films；　was　possessed　of　a　rare　talent　that　had　never　bloomed　and　never　would　now；　for　he　was　cursed…or　blessed…with　insufficient　drive　and　ruthlessness　to　take　him　to　the　top；　and　mankind；　for　a　not　always　laudable　diversity　of　reasons；　tends　to　cherish　its　failures：　and　Lonnie；　it　was　said；　never　spoke　ill　of　others　and　this；　too；　deepened　the　affection　in　which　he　was　held　except　by　the　minority　who　habitually　spoke　ill　of　everyone。
　〃It's　not　a　problem　I'd　care　to　be　faced　with　myself；〃　I　said。　〃How　are　you　feeling？〃
　〃Me？〃　He　inclined　his　bald　pate　forty…five　degrees　backwards；　tilted　the　bottle；　lowered　it　and　wiped　a　few　drops　of　the　elixir　from　his　grey　beard。　〃Never　been　ill　in　my　life。　Who　ever　heard　of　a　pickled　onion　going　sour？〃　He　cocked　his　head　sideways。　〃Ah！〃
　〃Ah；　what？〃　He　was　listening；　that　I　could　see；　but　I　couldn't　hear　a　damned　thing　except　the　crash　of　bows　against　seas　and　the　metallic　drumming　vibration　of　the　ancient　steel　hull　which　acpanied　each　downwards　plunge。
　〃The　horns　of　Elfland　faintly　blowing；〃　Lonnie　said。　〃Hark！　The　Herald　Angels。〃　I　harked　and　this　time　I　heard。　I'd　heard　it　many　times；　and　with　steadily　increasing　horror；　since　boarding　the　Morning　Rose；　a　screechingly　cacophonous　racket　that　was　fit　for　heralding　nothing　short　of　Armageddon　。　The　three　perpetrators　of　this　boiler…house　bedlam　of　sound；　Josh　Hendriks's　young　sound　crew　assistants；　might　not　have　been　tone　stone　deaf　but　their　classical　musical　education　could　hardly　be　regarded　as　plete　as　not　one　of　them　could　read　a　note　of　music。　John；　Luke；　and　Mark　were　all　cast　in　the　same　contemporary　mould；　with　flowing　shoulder…length　hair　and　wearing　clothes　that　gave　rise　to　the　suspicion　that　they　must　have　broken　into　a　guru's　laundry。　All　their　spare　time　was　spent　with　recording　equipment；　guitar；　drums；　and　xylophone　in　the　foreword　recreation　room　where　they　rehearsed；　apparently　night　and　day；　against　the　moment　of　their　big　breakthrough　into　the　pop…record　world　where　they　intended；　appropriately　enough；　to　bill　themselves　as　the　Three　Apostles。
　〃They　might　have　spared　the　passengers　on　a　night　like　this；〃　I　said。
　〃You　underestimate　our　immortal　trio；　my　dear　boy。　The　fact　that　you　may　be　one　of　the　most　excruciating　musicians　in　existence　does　not　prevent　you　from　having　a　heart　of　gold。　They　have　invited　the　passengers　along　to　hear　them　perform　in　the　hope　that　this　might　alleviate　their　sufferings。〃　He　closed　his　eyes　as　a　raucous　bellow　overlaid　with　a　high…pitched　scream　as　of　some　animal　in　pain　echoed　down　the　passageway　outside。
　〃The　concert　seems　to　have　begun。〃
　〃You　can't　fault　their　psychology；〃　I　said。　〃After　that；　an　Arctic　gale　is　going　to　seem　like　a　summer　afternoon　on　the　Thames。〃
　‘You　do　them　an　injustice。〃　Lonnie　lowered　the　level　in　the　bottle　by　another　inch　then　slid　down　into　his　bunk　to　show　that　the　audience　was　over。　〃Go　and　see　for　yourself。〃
　So　I　went　and　saw　for　myself　and　I　had　been　doing　them　an　injustice。　The　Three　Apostles；　surrounded　by　that　plethora　of　microphones；　amplifiers　；　speakers；　and　arcane　electronic　equipment　without　which　the　latter…day　troubadors　will　not…and；　more　importantly；　cannot…operate；　were　performing　on　a　low　platform　in　one　corner　of　the　recreation　room　and　maintaining　their　balance　with　remarkable　ease　largely；　it　seemed；　because　their　bodily　gyrations　and　contortions；　as　inseparable　a　part　of　their　art　as　the　electronic　aids；　seemed　to　synchronise　rather　well　with　the　pitching　and　rolling　of　the　Morning　Rose。　Rather　conservatively；　if　oddly；　clad　in　blue　jeans　and　psychedelic　kaftans；　and　bent　over　their　microphones　in　an　attitude　of　almost　acolytic　fervour；　the　three　young　sound　assistants　were　giving　of　their　uninhibited　best　and　from　what　little　could　be　seen　of　the　ecstatic　expressions　on　faces　eighty　percent　concealed　at　any　given　moment　by　wildly　swinging　manes　of　hair　it　was　plain　that　they　thought　that　their　best　approximated　very　closely　to　the　sublime。　I　wondered；　briefly；　how　angels　would　look　with　earplugs；　then　turned　my　attention　to　the　audience。
　There　were　fifteen　in　all；　ten　members　of　the　production　crew　and　five　of　the　cast。　A　round　dozen　of　them　very　clearly　the　worse　for　the　wear　but　their　sufferings　were　being　temporarily　held　in　abeyance　by　the　fascination；　which　stopped　a　long　way　short　of　rapture；　induced　by　the　Three　Apostles　who　had　now　reached　a　musical　crescendo　acpanied　by　what　seemed　to　be　some　advanced　form　of　St。　Vitus's　Dance。　A　hand　touched　me　on　the　shoulder　and　I　looked　sideways　at　Charles　Conrad。
　Conrad　was　thirty　years　old　and　was　to　be　the　male　lead　in　the　film；　not　yet　a　big…name　star　but　building　up　an　impressive　international　reputation。　He　was　cheerful。　ruggedly　handsome；　with　a　thatch　of　thick　brown　hair　that　kept　falling　over　his　eyes：　he　had　eyes　of　the　bluest　blue　and　most　gleamingly　white　perfect　teeth…like　his　name；　his　own…that　would　have　transported　a　dentist　into　ecstasies　or　the　depths　of　despair　depending　upon　whether　he　was　primarily　interested　in　the　aesthetic　or　economic　aspects　of　his　profession。　He　was　invariably　friendly；　courteous；　and　considerate；　whether　by　instinct　or　calculated　design　it　was　impossible　to　say。
　He　cupped　his　hand　to　my　ear；　nodded　towards　the　performers。
　〃Your　contract　specifies　hair　shirts？〃
　〃No。　Why？　Does　yours？〃
　〃Solidarity　of　the　working　classes。〃　He　smiled；　looked　at　me　with　an　oddly　speculative　glint　in　his　eyes。　〃Letting　the　opera　buffs　down；　aren't　you？〃
　〃They'll　recover。　Anyway；　I　always　tell　my　patients　that　a　change　is　as　good　as　a　rest。〃　The　music　ceased　abruptly　and　I　lowered　my　voice　about　fifty　decibels。　〃Mind　you；　this　is　carrying　it　too　far。　Fact　is；　I'm　on　duty。
　Mr。　Gerran　is　a　bit　concerned　about　you　all。〃
　〃He　wants　his　herd　delivered　to　the　cattle　market　in　prime　condition？〃
　〃Well；　I　suppose　you　all　represent　a　pretty　considerable　investment　to　him。〃
　〃Investment？　Ha！　Do　you　know　that　that　twisted　old　skinflint　of　a　beer　barrel　has　not　only　got　us　at　fire…sale　prices　but　also　won't　pay　us　a　penny　until　shooting's　over？〃
　〃No；　I　didn't。〃　I　paused。　〃We　live　in　a　democracy；　Mr。　Conrad；　the　land　of　the　free。　You　don't　have　to　sell　yourselves　in　the　slave　market。〃
　〃Don't　we　just！　What　do　you　know　about　the　f