[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
them closely, continually hosing them with ice-cold air from a faucet on the
wall. Strangman snapped his fingers and the Admiral quickly began to pull away
the canvas wrappings draped between the crates.
In the thin light Kerans could just see the glimmering outline of a huge
ornamented altarpiece at the far end of the hold, fitted with elaborate
scroll-work and towering dolphin candelabra, topped by a neo-classical
proscenium which would have covered a small house. Next to it stood a dozen
pieces of statuary, mostly of the late Renaissance, stacks of heavy gilt
frames propped against them. Beyond these were several smaller altarpieces and
triptyches, an intact puipit in panelled gold, three large equestrian statues,
a few strands of sea-weed still entwined in the horses' manes, several pairs
of enormous cathedral doors, embossed in gold and silver, and a large tiered
marble fountain. The metal shelves around the side of the hold were loaded
with smaller bric a brac: votive urns, goblets, shields and salvers, pieces of
decorative armour, ceremonial inkstands and the like.
Still holding Beatrice's arm, Strangman gestured expansively a few yards
ahead. Kerans heard him say 'Sistine Chapel' and 'Medici Tomb' but Bodkin
Page 48
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
muttered: "Aesthetically, most of this is rubbish, picked for the gold content
alone. Yet there's not much of that. What is the man up to?"
Kerans nodded, watching Strangman in his white suit, the barelegged Beatrice
beside him.
Suddenly he remembered the Delvaux painting, with its tuxedoed skeletons.
Strangman's chalk-white face was like a skull, and he had something of the
skeleton's jauntiness. For no reason he began to feel an intense distaste for
the man, his hostility more generalised than personal.
"Well, Kerans, what do you think of them?" Strangman pivoted at one end of the
aisle and swung back, barking at the Admiral to cover the exhibits again.
"Impressed, Doctor?"
Kerans managed to take his eyes off Strangman's face and glanced at the looted
relics.
"They're like bones," he said flatly.
file:///F|/rah/J.%20G.%20Ballard/Ballard,%20J...0-%20Book%201%20-%20The%20Drow
ned%20World.txt (36 of 69) [2/4/03 10:34:15 PM]
file:///F|/rah/J.%20G.%20Ballard/Ballard,%20J%20G%20-%20Book%201%20-%20The%20D
rowned%20World.txt
Baffled, Strangman shook his head. "Bones? What on earth are you talking
about? Kerans, you're insane! Bones, Good God!"
As he let out a martyred groan, the Admiral took up the refrain, first saying
the word quietly to himself as if examining a strange object, then repeating
it more and more rapidly in a sort of nervous release, his broad face
gibbering with laughter. The other sailor joined in, and together they began
to chant it out, convulsed over the fire hose like snake dancers.
"Bones! Yes, man, dem's all bones! Dem bones dem bones dem . . . !"
Strangman watched them angrily, the muscles of his face locking and unlocking
like manacles. Disgusted with this display of rudeness and bad temper, Kerans
turned to leave the hold.
In annoyance Strangman rushed after him, pressed the palm of his hand in
Kerans' back and propelled him along the aisle out of the hold.
Five minutes later, as they drove off in one of the scows, the Admiral and
half a dozen other members of the crew lined the rail, still chanting and
dancing. Strangman had regained his humour, and stood coolly in his white
suit, detached from the others, Waving ironically.
CHAPTER 9
The Pool of Thanatos
During the next two weeks, as the southern horizon became increasingly
darkened by the approaching rain-clouds, Kerans saw Strangman frequently.
Usually he would be driving his hydroplane at speed around the lagoons, his
white lounge suit exchanged for overalls and helmet, supervising the work of
the salvage teams. One scow, with six men, was working in each of the three
lagoons, the divers methodically exploring the sunken buildings. Occasionally
the placid routines of descent and pump would be interrupted by the sounds of
rifle fire as an alligator venturing too near the divers was despatched.
Sitting in the darkness in his hotel suite, Kerans was far away from the
lagoon, content to let Strangman dive for his loot as long as he would soon
leave. More and more the dreams had begun to encroach on his waking life, his
conscious mind becoming increasingly drained and withdrawn. The single plane
of time on which Strangman and his men existed seemed so transparent as to
have a negligible claim to reality. Now and then, when Strangman came to call
on him, he would emerge for a few minutes on to this tenuous plane, but the
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]