alistairmaclean.bearisland-第5章

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　Here　was　located　the　Morning　Rose's　main　passenger　acmodation；　two　rows　of　cabins　lining　the　fore　and　aft　central　passageway。　This　had　been　the　area　of　the　former　fish…holds　and　although　the　place　had　been　steam…washed；　fumigated；　and　disinfected　at　the　time　of　conversion　it　still　stank　most　powerfully　and　evilly　of　cod　liver　oil　that　has　lain　too　long　in　the　sun。　In　ordinary　circumstances；　the　atmosphere　was　nauseating　enough：　in　those　extraordinary　ones　it　was　hardly　calculated　to　assist　sufferers　in　a　rapid　recovery　from　the　effects　of　seasickness。　I　knocked　on　the　first　door　on　the　starboard　side　and　went　in。
　Johann　Heissman；　horizontally　immobile　on　his　bunk；　looked　like　a　cross　between　a　warrior　taking　his　rest　and　a　medieval　bishop　modelling　for　the　stone　effigy　which　in　the　fullness　of　time　would　adorn　the　top　of　his　sarcophagus。　Indeed；　with　his　thin　waxy　fingers　steepled　on　his　narrow　chest；　his　thin　waxy　nose　pointing　to　the　ceiling　and　his　curiously　transparent　eyelids　closed；　the　image　of　the　tomb　seemed　particularly　apposite　in　this　case：　but　it　was　a　deceptive　image　for　a　man　does　not　survive　twenty　years　in　a　Soviet　hard　labour　camp　in　eastern　Siberia　just　to　turn　in　his　cards　from　mal　de　mier。
　〃How　do　you　feel；　Mr。　Heissman？〃
　〃Oh；　God！〃　He　opened　his　eyes　without　looking　at　me；　moaned　and　closed　them　again。　〃How　do　I　feel？'
　〃I'm　sorry。　But　Mr。　Gerran　is　concerned…〃
　〃Otto　Gerran　is　a　raving　madman。〃　I　didn't　take　it　as　any　indication　of　some　sudden　upsurge　in　his　physical　condition　but；　no　question；　this　time　his　voice　was　a　great　deal　stronger。　〃Crackpot！　A　lunatic！〃
　While　privately　conceding　that　Heissman's　diagnosis　lay　somewhere　along　the　right　lines　I　refrained　from　ment　and　not　out　of　some　suitably　due　deference　to　my　employer。　Otto　Gerran　and　Johann　Heissman　had　been　friends　much　too　long　for　me　to　risk　treading　upon　the　delicate　ground　that　well　might　lie　between　them。　They　had　known　each　other；　as　far　as　I　had　been　able　to　discover；　since　they　had　been　students　together　at　some　obscure　Danubian　gymnasium　close　on　forty　years　ago　and　had；　at　the　time　of　the　Anschluss　in　1938；　been　the　joint　owners　of　a　relatively　prosperous　film　studio　in　Vienna。　It　was　at　this　point　in　space　and　time　that　they　had　parted　pany　suddenly；　drastically　and；　it　seemed　at　the　time；　permanently；　for；　while　Gerran's　sure　instinct　had　guided　his　fleeing　footsteps　to　Hollywood；　Heissman　had　unfortunately　taken　off　in　the　wrong　direction　altogether　and；　only　three　years　previously；　to　the　total　disbelief　of　all　who　had　known　him　and　believed　him　dead　for　a　quarter　of　a　century；　had　incredibly　surfaced　from　the　bitter　depths　of　his　long　Siberian　winter。　He　had　sought　out　Gerran　and　now　it　appeared　that　their　friendship　was　as　close　as　ever　it　had　been。　It　was　assumed　that　Gerran　knew　about　the　hows　and　the　whys　of　Heissman's　lost　years　and　if　this　were　indeed　the　case　then　he　was　the　only　man　who　did　so　for　Heissman；　understandably　enough；　never　discussed　his　past。　Only　two　things　about　the　men　were　known　for　certain…that　it　was　Heissman；　who　had　a　dozen　prewar　screenplays　to　his　credit；　who　was　the　moving　spirit　behind　this　venture　to　the　Arctic　and　that　Gerran　had　taken　him　into　full　partnership　in　his　pany；　Olympus　Productions。　In　light　of　this；　it　behooved　me　to　step　warily　and　keep　my　ments　on　Heissman's　ments　strictly　to　myself。
　〃If　there's　anything　you　require；　Mr。　Heissman…〃
　I　require　nothing。〃　He　opened　his　transparent　eyelids　again　and　this　time　looked…or　glared…at　me；　eyes　of　washed…out　grey　streaked　with　blood。
　〃Save　your　treatment　for　that　cretin　Gerran。〃
　〃Treatment？〃
　〃Brain　surgery。〃　He　lowered　his　eyelids　wearily　and　went　back　to　being　a　medieval　bishop　again　so　I　left　him　and　went　next　door。
　There　were　two　men　in　this　cabin；　one　clearly　suffering　quite　badly；　the　other　equally　clearly　not　suffering　in　the　slightest。　Neal　Divine；　the　unit　director；　had　adopted　a　death's　door　resignation　attitude　that　was　strikingly　similar　to　that　favoured　by　Heissman　and　although　he　wasn't　even　within　hailing　distance　of　death's　door　he　was　plainly　very　seasick　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　ste