p&c.icelimit-第19章

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rka　more　tightly　around　him。　Spending　time　on　Isla　Desolacion　…　remote　even　by　the　standards　of　this　godforsaken　place　…　was　one　thing。　But　hanging　around　a　Chilean　harbor　made　him　nervous。　A　thousand　miles　north　of　here　there　were　still　plenty　of　people　who　would　remember　his　face　…　and　would　be　happy　to　acquaint　him　with　the　business　end　of　a　cattle　prod。　There　was　always　a　chance；　however　small；　that　one　of　them　would　now　be　stationed　down　here。
　There　was　a　movement　by　his　side　as　Glinn　joined　him　at　the　rail。　The　man　was　wearing　a　greasy　quilted　jacket；　several　layers　of　soiled　woolen　shirts；　and　an　orange　watchcap。　He　clutched　a　battered　briefcase　in　one　hand。　His　face；　fastidiously　clean…shaven　under　normal　conditions；　had　been　allowed　to　roughen。　A　bent　cigarette　dangled　from　his　lips；　and　McFarlane　could　see　he　was　actually　smoking　it；　inhaling　and　exhaling　with　every　indication　of　pleasure。
　〃I　don't　believe　we've　met；〃　McFarlane　said。
　〃I'm　Eli　Ishmael；　chief　mining　engineer。〃
　〃Well；　Mr。　Mining　Engineer；　if　I　didn't　know　better　I'd　say　you　were　actually　enjoying　yourself。〃
　Glinn　pulled　the　cigarette　from　his　mouth；　gazed　at　it　a　moment；　then　tossed　it　toward　the　frozen　seascape。　〃Enjoyment　is　not　necessarily　inpatible　with　success。〃
　McFarlane　gestured　at　his　shabby　clothes。　〃Where'd　you　get　all　this；　anyhow？　You　look　like　you've　been　stoking　coal。〃
　〃A　couple　of　costume　consultants　flew　in　from　Hollywood　while　the　ship　was　being　fitted；〃　Glinn　answered。　〃We've　got　a　few　sea　lockers　full；　enough　to　cover　any　contingency。〃
　〃Let's　hope　it　doesn't　e　to　that。　So　what　exactly　are　our　marching　orders？〃
　〃It's　very　simple。　Our　job　is　to　introduce　ourselves　at　customs；　handle　any　questions　about　the　mining　permits；　post　our　bond；　and　find　John　Puppup。　We're　a　wildcatting　outfit；　here　to　mine　iron　ore。　The　pany　is　teetering　on　bankruptcy；　and　this　is　our　last　shot。　If　someone　speaks　English　and　questions　you；　insist　belligerently　that　we　are　a　first…class　outfit。　But　as　much　as　possible；　don't　speak　at　all。　And　if　something　untoward　happens　at　customs；　react　as　you　would　naturally。〃
　〃Naturally？〃　McFarlane　shook　his　head。　〃My　natural　instinct　would　be　to　run　like　hell。〃　He　paused。　〃How　about　the　captain？　You　think　she's　up　to　this？〃
　〃As　you　may　have　noticed；　she's　not　your　typical　sea　captain。〃
　The　launch　cut　through　the　chop；　the　carefully　detuned　diesels　hammering　violently　from　below。　The　door　to　the　cabin　thumped　open　and　Britton　approached　them；　wearing　old　jeans；　a　pea　jacket；　and　a　battered　cap　with　gold　captain's　bars。　Binoculars　swung　from　her　neck。　It　was　the　first　time　McFarlane　had　seen　her　out　of　a　crisp　naval　uniform；　and　the　change　was　both　refreshing　and　alluring。
　〃May　I　pliment　you　on　your　outfit？〃　Glinn　said。　McFarlane　glanced　at　him　in　surprise；　he　did　not　remember　ever　hearing　Glinn　praise　anybody　before。
　The　captain　flashed　Glinn　a　smile　in　return。　〃You　may　not。　I　loathe　it。〃
　As　the　boat　rounded　the　northern　end　of　Isla　Navarino；　a　dark　shape　appeared　in　the　distance。　McFarlane　could　see　it　was　an　enormous　iron　ship。
　〃God；〃　said　McFarlane。　〃Look　at　the　size　of　that。　We'll　have　to　give　it　a　wide　berth；　or　its　wake　will　sink　us。〃　Britton　raised　her　binoculars。　After　a　long　look；　she　lowered　them　again；　more　slowly。　〃I　don't　think　so；〃　she　replied。　〃She's　not　going　anywhere　fast。〃
　Despite　the　fact　that　the　ship's　bow　was　toward　them；　it　seemed　to　take　an　eternity　to　draw　nearer。　The　twin　masts；　gaunt　and　spidery；　listed　slightly　to　one　side。　Then　McFarlane　understood：　the　ship　was　a　wreck；　lodged　on　a　reef　in　the　very　middle　of　the　channel。
　Glinn　took　the　binoculars　Britton　offered。　〃It's　the　Capitan　Praxos；〃　he　said。　〃A　cargo　vessel；　by　the　looks　of　it。　Must　have　been　driven　on　a　shoal。〃
　〃It's　hard　to　believe　a　ship　that　size　could　be　wrecked　in　these　protected　waters；〃　said　McFarlane。
　〃This　sound　is　only　protected　during　northeasterly　winds；　like　we　have　today；〃　said　Britton；　her　voice　cold。　〃When　they　shift　to　the　west；　they'd　turn　this　place　into　a　wind　tunnel。　Perhaps　the　ship　had　engine　trouble　at　the　time。〃
　They　fell　silent　as　the　hulk　drew　nearer。　Despite　the　brilliant　clarity　of　the　morning　sun；　the　ship　remained　oddly　out　of　focus；　as　if　surrounded　in　its　own　cloak　of　mist。　The　vessel　was　coated；　stern　to　stern；　in　a　fur　of　rust　and　decay。　Its　iron　towers　were　broken；　one　hanging　off　the　side　and　caught　among　heavy　chains；　the　other　lying　in　a　tangle　on　the　deck。　No　birds　perched　on　its　rotting　superstructure。　Even　the　waves　seemed　to　avoid　its　scabrous　sides。　It　was　spectral；　surreal：　a　cadaverous　sentinel；　giving　mute　warning　to　all　who　passed。
　〃Somebody　ought　to　speak　to　Puerto　Williams　Chamber　of　merce　about　that；〃　McFarlane　said。　The　joke　was　greeted　without　laughter。　A　chill　seemed　to　have　fallen　on　the　group。
　The　pilot　throttled　up；　as　if　eager　to　be　past　the　wreck；　and　they　turned　into　the　Beagle　Channel。　Here；　knife…edged　mountains　rose　from　the　water；　dark　and　forbidding；　snowfields　and　glaciers　winking　in　their　folds。　The　boat　was　buffeted　by　a　gust　of　wind；　and　McFarlane　pulled　his　parka　tighter　around　him。
　〃To　the　right　is　Argentina；〃　Glinn　said。　〃To　the　left；　Chile。〃
　〃And　I'm　heading　inside；〃　said　Britton；　turning　toward　the　pilothouse。
　
　An　hour　later；　Puerto　Williams　rose　out　of　the　gray　light　off　the　port　bow：　a　collection　of　shabby　wooden　buildings；　yellow　with　red　roofs；　nestled　in　a　bowl　between　hills。　Behind　it　rose　a　range　of　hyperborean　mountains；　white　and　sharp　as　teeth。　At　the　foot　of　the　town　stood　a　row　of　decaying　piers。　Wooden　draggers　and　single…masted　gaff　sloops　with　tarred　hulls　were　moored　in　the　harbor。　Nearby；　McFarlane　could　see　the　Barrio　de　los　Indios：　a　crooked　assortment　of　planked　houses　and　damp　huts；　tendrils　of　smoke　rising　from　makeshift　chimneys。　Beyond　them　lay　the　naval　station　itself；　a　forlorn　row　of　corrugated　metal　buildings。　What　looked　like　two　naval　tenders　and　an　old　destroyer　were　moored　nearby。
　Within　the　space　of　a　few　minutes；　it　seemed；　the　bright　morning　sky　had　darkened。　As　the　launch　pulled　up　to　one　of　the　wooden　piers；　a　smell　of　rotting　fish；　shot　through　with　odors　of　sewage　and　seaweed；　washed　over　them。　Several　men　appeared　from　nearby　huts　and　came　shambling　down　gangplanks。　Shouting　and　gesturing；　they　tried　to　entice　the　launch　to　land　at　any　of　half　a　dozen　places；　each　holding　up　a　hawser　or　pointing　at　a　cleat。　The　boat　slid　into　the　dock　and　a　loud　argument　ensued　between　the　two　nearest　men；　quieted　only　when　Glinn　passed　out　cigarettes。
　The　three　climbed　out　on　the　slippery　dock　and　looked　up　at　the　dismal　town。　Stray　flakes　of　snow　dusted　the　shoulders　of　McFarlane's　parka。
　〃Where　is　the　office　of　customs？〃　Glinn　asked　one　of　the　men　in　Spanish。
　〃I　will　take　you　there；〃　said　three　simultaneously。　Now　women　were　arriving；　crowding　around　with　plastic　buckets　full　of　sea　urchins；　mussels；　and　congrio　colorado；　jostling　one　another　aside　and　shoving　the　ripe　shellfish　into　their　faces。
　〃Sea　urchin；〃　said　one　woman　in　broken　English。　She　had　the　wizened　face　of　a　septuagenarian　and　sported　a　single；　remarkably　white　tooth。　〃Very　good　for　man。　Make　hard。　Muy　fuerte。〃　She　gestured　with　a　stiff　upraised　arm　to　indicate　its　results；　while　the　men　roared　with　laughter。
　〃No　gracias　senora；〃　Glinn　said；　shoving　his　way　through　the　crowd　to　follow　his　self…appointed　guides。
　The　men　led　the　way　up　the　pier　and　along　the　waterfront　in　the　direction　of　the　naval　station。　Here；　beside　another　pier　only　slightly　less　shabby；　they　stopped　at　a　low　planked　building。　Light　streamed　from　its　sole　window　into　the　darkening　air；　and　the　fragrant　smoke　of　a　wood　fire　billowed　from　a　tin　pipe　in　the　far　wall。　A　faded　Chilean　flag　hung　beside　the　door。
　Glinn　tipped　their　guides　and　pushed　open　the　door；　Britton　following　behind　him。　McFarlane　came　last。　He　took　a　deep　breath　of　the　ripe；　chill　air；　reminding　himself　it　was　very　unlikely　anyone　here　would　recognize　him　from　the　Atacama　business。
　The　inside　was　what　he　expected：　the　scarred　table；　the　potbellied　stove；　the　dark…eyed　official。　Walking　voluntarily　into　a　Chilean　government　office　…　even　one　as　remote　and　provincial　as　this　…　made　him　nervous。　His　eyes　strayed　involuntarily　to　the　tattered…looking　sheaf　of　wanted　posters　hanging　from　a　wall　by　a　rusted　metal　clamp。　Cool　it；　he　told　himself。
　The　customs　official　had　carefully　slicked…back　hair　and　an　immaculate　uniform。　He　smiled　at　them；　revealing　an　expanse　of　gold　teeth。　〃Please；〃　he　said　in　Spanish。　〃Sit　down。〃　He　had　a　soft；　effeminate　voice。　The　man　radiated　a　kind　well…being　that　seemed　extravagantly　out　of　place　in　such　a　forlorn　outpost。
　From　a　back　room　of　the　customs　office；　voices　that　had　been　raised　in　argument　were　suddenly　hushed。　McFarlane　waited　for　Glinn　and　Britton　to　sit　down；　then　followed　their　lead；　lowering　himself　gingerly　into　a　scuffed　wooden　chair。　The　potbellied　stove　crackled；　giving　off　a　wonderful　glow　of　heat。
　〃Por　favor；〃　the　official　said；　pushing　a　cedar　box　full　of　cigarettes　at　them。　Everyone　declined　except　Glinn；　who　took　two。　He　stuck　one　between　his　lips　and　popped　the　other　into　his　pocket。　〃Mas　tarde；〃　he　said　with　a　grin。
　The　man　leaned　across　the　table　and　lit　Glinn's　cigarette　with　a　gold　lighter。　Glinn　took　a　deep　drag　on　the　unfiltered　cigarette；　then　leaned　over　to　spit　a　small　piece　of　tobacco　off　his　tongue。　McFarlane　glanced　from　him　to　Britton。
　〃Wele　to　Chile；〃　the　official　said　in　English；　turning　the　lighter　over　in　his　delicate　hands　before　slipping　it　back　in　his　jacket　pocket。　Then　he　switched　back　to　Spanish。　〃You　are　from　the　American　mining　ship　Rolvaag；　of　course？〃
　〃Yes；〃　said　Britton；　also　in　Spanish。　With　seeming　carelessness；　she　slipped　some　papers　and　a　wad　of　passports　out　of　a　battered　leather　portfolio。
　〃Looking　for　iron？〃　the　man　asked　with　a　smile。
　Glinn　nodded。
　〃And　you　expect　to　find　this　iron　on　Isla　Desolacion？〃　His　smile　held　a　touch　of　cynicism；　McFarlane　thought。　Or　was　it　suspicion？
　〃Of　course；〃　Glinn　answered　quickly；　after　stifling　a　wet　cough。　〃We　are　equipped　with　all　the　latest　mining　equipment　and　a　fine　ore　carrier。　This　is　a　highly　professional　operation。〃
　The　slightly　amused　expression　on　the　official's　face　indicated　that　he　had　already　received　information　about　the　big　rust　bucket　anchored　beyond　the　channel。　He　drew　the　papers　toward　him　and　flipped　through　them　casually。　〃It　will　take　some　time　to　process　these；〃　he　said。　〃We　will　probably　want　to　visit　your　ship。　Where　is　the　captain？〃
　〃I　am　the　master　of　the　Rolvaag；〃　said　Britton。
　At　this　the　official's　eyebrows　shot　up。　There　was　a　shuffling　of　feet　from　the　back　room　of　the　customs　house；　and　two　more　officials　of　indistinct　rank　came　through　the　door。　Heading　to　the　stove；　they　sat　down　on　a　bench　beside　it。
　〃You　are　the　captain；〃　the　official　said。
　〃Si。〃
　The　official　grunted；　looked　down　at　the　papers；　casually　leafed　through　them；　and　looked　up　at　her　again。　〃And　you；　senor？〃　he　asked；　swiveling　his　gaze　to　McFarlane。
　Glinn　spoke。　〃This　is　Dr。　Widmanstatten；　senior　scientist。　He　speaks　no　Spanish。　I　am　the　chief　engineer；　Eli　Ishmael。〃
　McFarlane　fe