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the rain. It was as though a torrent flooding through the sky had reac hed a
point where there was no bottom. It was a cataract so violent that it killed
all sound, even the sound of thunder, and the lightning flickered o nly dimly.
I held my course as best I could, crouched low, half-flattened b y the weight
of water pouring down on me. And then the deluge ceased abrupt ly and
lightning flashes showed me the clouds whirling in convoluted masses overhead.
The ship was nearer now. I could see her quite plainly. But astern of me the
re was nothing, only black darkness - the next rainstorm coming in. I began to
bale then, for it never occurred to me to turn back. I was intent only on
reaching the ship, which was now showing the red and green of her navigatio n
lights. She had her steaming lights on, too, but I had no time to think ab out
that for the next storm was on me with a roar of wind and the flash of l
ightning. I was clear of the shoals now, in the open ten
sea, and I kept on running with the spray driving past me and the waves bui
lding up. The lightning was almost incessant again and seen like that in th e
flashes through a murk of spray, the Strode Trader looked a grey ghost of a
ship. She was lying bows to the wind facing straight towards me, and I c ame
down on her fast. But not fast enough, for she began to swing, presenti ng her
starboard side with the barge lying alongside, butting at her flank like a
whale calf seeking its mother's milk. And then, when she was broadsi de-on,
she seemed to hold her distance.
A great ball of fire burned for an instant in the clouds behind her. She was a
black silhouette then with the tiny figures of men moving on her bows. Th ey
were fetching her anchor, and in the next flash of lightning I saw it was
already up and down. I knew then why it was taking me so long to reach her.
She was broadside to the wind and drifting with it. In the jet darkness tha t
followed the flash I was suddenly afraid, for there was no turning back to the
island now. Out here the waves were steep and breaking, the runabout li ttle
better than a cockleshell.
My whole mind, my every nerve became instantly concentrated on driving the b
oat forward, intent on reaching the ship before she got under way. I had the
throttle wide open wide open, leaning forward over the engine casing as tho
ugh I could by sheer will-power drive her faster. The stern sank in a trough
and I heard the break of the wave almost at the moment it thumped me in the
back, spilling across the stern, flooding over the gunn'ls as it carried th e
boat forward like a surfboard. And at the same moment lightning forked acr oss
the ship, showing it very near now, so that I could see the prop beginni ng to
thresh the water. The thunder crashed. The barge was swinging away fro m the
ship's side and it was the barge I hit. And as the bows splintered and the
boat began to sink under me I jumped, caught the steel edge of the barg e's
side and hauled myself aboard. Lying there, panting on the grit-grimed p
lating. I could feel the strong pulsing beat of the Strode Trader's engines
transmitted through the barge's hull every time it rammed its blunt nose aga
inst the ship's side.
I tried to attract their attention, of course, but no human voice could be h
eard above the turmoil of the storm. A wave broke and then another. The barg
e's flank was like a breakwater, the waves pouring over the side and cascadi
ng down into the half-empty hold. I struggled to my feet, balancing myself t o
the pitch and roll of the ungainly hulk and in the next flash of lightning
waved my hands. But there was nobody on deck. There was a shuddering jar, t he
clank of steel on steel, and beyond the open cavern of the barge's hold I
could see the dark side of the ship towering above me. Food and warmth, the
cosy familiarity of my cabin all so near, but nobody to tell Reece to stop his
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bloody engines and get me off the barge.
The ship was gathering way fast now. She had turned her fat stern to the i
sland and was running down wind. The barge yawed, grinding its bows. I sto od
and waved and shouted, and still nobody answered.
I began working my way for'ard then. I had almost reached the broader platfo
rm of the bows when the stern of the barge was lifted and flung sideways. Sh
e lay wallowing for an instant, rolling her topsides into the waves, water p
ouring over me. Then the bow line tautened with a jerk. It steadied her and
I started forward again. It was a mistake, for the bows swung in, both vesse
ls rolling towards each other. The crash as they met caught me off balance.
I can remember falling, but that's all.
I came to, gasping and sobbing for breath, a great roaring in my ears. I kne w
I was drowning and I fought with all my strength, clawing and kicking, wit h
the water gurgling in my lungs and throat and one little horrified corner of
my brain aware that my hands and feet were motionless as in a nightmare w here
the struggle is in the mind and not transmitted into physical action. M
y brain, groping towards full consciousness, recorded sluggishly - the feel of
grit under the palms of my hands, the hardness of solid steel beneath my body,
the slosh of water resounding loud as in a tank.
I lay still a moment. Then I was gulping air, my mouth filled with grit and t
he sickening salinity of sea water. Somewhere my head was hurting, a raw burn
of pain, and I retched, vomitting nothing but grit and slime. A blinding jar
, the crash of steel, a great swooping movement. I was riding a roller-coaste
r and the water was back. I was afloat in a great sea and being battered to d
eath against a shingle beach. It changed to a sea wall; I could feel its vert
ical sides as I clawed at it, calling for help, conscious that however hard I
called nobody would come to save me since no sound was coming out of my mout
h. Another jar and the tide receding - or was I trapped in the engine-room of
a sinking ship? Steel under my hands - cold steel, pitted with rust and film
ed with grit. A great searing flash and my smarting eyes saw the rusty pit wi
th its vertical steel walls, the pile of ore awash, and the water flooding ba
ck at me as the stern lifted, a wall of black filthy water that spilled over
me.
This time my muscles responded to the call of my brain. I struggled to my fe
et and the water broke, knocking me backwards and forcing me to my knees, an d
as it receded I was sick again. I felt better then and when the water trap ped
in the bottom of the barge came back at me I was ready for it, my body b raced
against the steel side. It broke harmlessly against me, surging round my
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| Cytat |
Dobre pomysły nie mają przeszłości, mają tylko przyszłość. Robert Mallet
De minimis - o najmniejszych rzeczach.
Dobroć jest ważniejsza niż mądrość, a uznanie tej prawdy to pierwszy krok do mądrości. Theodore Isaac Rubin
Dobro to tylko to, co szlachetne, zło to tylko to, co haniebne.
Dla człowieka nie tylko świat otaczający jest zagadką; jest on nią sam dla siebie. I z obu tajemnic bardziej dręczącą wydaje się ta druga. Antoni Kępiński (1918-1972)
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