按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
The afternoon breeze off the sea was cool and fresh。 It was a wele relief to get out here when the sun was high； away from the heat of the wharfs and the stench of fuel oil； grease； and battery acids。 They could hear the banging of a hammer against timber and the drawing of a handsaw repeated over and over again…someone still working in the boatyard。 Probably J。R。； or the foreman； Lenny； burning themselves up in that sun to finish replacing the Ginger's broken hull planks。 The old man who operated her； Harless； or 〃Hairless；〃 as the boatyard men called him； was a good friend of the yard's owner； Kevin Langstree； and so that accounted for the rush that had been put into the repair work。
The Langstree boatyard had seen better days。 It was a jumble of wharf pilings； huts； piles of timber and empty oil drums； crates and boxes strewn everywhere； heavy ropes coiled like thick brown pythons； and a morass of bald tires stacked up to protect the hulls of boats。 It had been affluent once； bustling with traffic from the island harbor； an anchorage for both British and American freighters。 Now it was kept up primarily to service the island's fishing fleet and to do repair work if necessary on the yachts that cruised through here during the tourist season。 The work force had been cut to a third of what it had been during the early part of World War II； when the boatyard was paid handsomely for repairs made on the huge Allied warships that had fought the Germans in the Caribbean。 In those days； as the aging Langstree liked to tell everyone； the boatyard had worked fifty men on two shifts； the work was plentiful and hard but the men knew what they were doing。 They were all tough； muscular islanders with a mon…sense； natural knowledge of both the small fishing trawlers and the larger； more plex steel…hulled craft。 They had learned the art of fast patching； of making use of available materials until what had seemed hopeless was again ready for the sea。 They could take down and put back together ocean…going diesels blindfolded； restore the snapped rudders and broken hulls of sailing sloops； rebuild skiff motors by spit and wire。
But no more。 Many of those men had moved away from Coquina in search of better…paying jobs after the war had ended； some of them had died in action； for a boatyard servicing warships in a bat zone was a prime target for the enemy。 Now most of the yard was abandoned。 Of two tin…roofed wooden structures used as drydocks only one was in use； and that only occasionally when a larger boat needed a patch job or some such serious work。 The other； allowed to fall to pieces in the salt air； had been constructed by the British navy for the purpose of storing damaged warships until they could either be patched or until the heavy naval tugs could arrive for them； it was filled with supplies and equipment left over when the warships were no longer needed to patrol the Caribbean。 Although the jobs had dried up； the boatyard had always maintained a proud reputation and was the only thing that kept Coquina on the map。 Most of the workmen made ends meet for their families by moonlighting either as fishermen or farmers。
〃Deal；〃 Percy said over the noise of the hammer。 He glanced across； the bulkheadlike doorway to the nearest drydock had been opened and he could see J。R。's head as the man worked in the concrete…reinforced pit。 Beside the shelter were the bleaching bones of an abandoned ketch； its splintered hull as white as the grass…thatched sand around it。 A few dozen yards away； beneath a block…and…tackle assembly； were the wharfs； where a couple of fishing boats were moored。 A sign on long stilts at the far end of the wharfs； facing the sea； read in weather…beaten red paint： LANGSTREE BOATYARD。
Percy was not really concentrating as the cards were placed face…down before him。 He was looking out at the sea。 He had watched the little skiff with the white man in it move on through the bommies of Kiss Bottom； and while he and Mason played he gazed curiously out at the Abyss； where the skiff； only a white dot against the blueness of sea and sky； floated at anchor。 He wondered what the white man was doing there。 In the middle of the sea； beneath that searing orb of sun！ Moore had to be crazy as hell。 Even he； Percy； with his black flesh thickened by years of outdoor work； avoided the early afternoon heat； preferring instead to play poker beneath the shading palm fronds or drink beer and swap old stories with the other men up at the Landfall。
He picked up his hand。 Four and six of clubs； heart's king； ten of hearts； and ace of diamonds。 What to discard； what to build on？ He suddenly felt like a fool sitting here。 He had nets to mend for the next morning's fishing。 Without them he'd have to depend on trawling lines； and he didn't want to。 The fish were getting too smart to grab just any old bait these days； and the huge nets on the industry boats that worked these waters on an erratic basis frightened away the fish that weren't scooped up。 Damn it； he thought angrily； it's gettin' tough for a man to feed his own mouth； much less a wife's and two children's。
〃What you want； mon？〃 Mason asked him。
And when the other man looked up； intending to ask for three cards； his gaze froze。
The sea was boiling like a hot cauldron out in the Abyss； just beyond where Moore's skiff lay。 Percy could see the great turbulence of it。 Something was wrong。 Bad wrong。 He dropped his cards； rose up from the battery crates he'd been perched upon。 He pointed。 〃What the hell's that？〃
Mason twisted around； narrowed his eyes。 〃Jesus；〃 he said； quietly。
The men could see foam crashing over the skiff； it was jerked down the side of a wave； then bobbed back into view again。 And as they watched； spellbound； they saw a massive shape burst from the sea in a white geyser of water。 They thought at first it was a whale emerging from the depths but then the sun glinted sharply off what appeared to be a hard surface； the thing rocked back and forth as the ocean continued to churn around it。
〃Damn！〃 Mason said； leaping up from his seat。 He put a hand across his forehead to shield his eyes from the reflection and stared。
〃J。R。！〃 Percy shouted； cupping his hands around his mouth。 The hammering ceased and a man appeared at the shelter entrance。 〃GET OUT HERE QUICK！〃
On the Abyss rim； Moore clung to the skiff gunwale。 He was trying to sort out what had happened； dazed because it had happened so quickly。 One moment he had been digging on the great mountain of sand； the next he had been gripping that depth charge； the next scrabbling wildly away as the charge hurtled into the depths。 He wasn't bleeding anywhere； but his flesh felt raw and bruised and his head ached fiercely。 And then； as he stared at the hulk that had begun its eerie movement with the currents； he realized what he'd been trying to dig out： the uppermost portion of a periscope。 He'd been digging above the mass of the submarine； it had been buried beneath the tons of rock and sand； and the explosion had ripped it free。
Moore unfastened his straps and heaved his tank over into the boat's bottom。 Then he painfully pulled himself over； his muscles tight and