"Harry Harrison - A Transatlantic Tunnel Hurrah" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harrison Harry)

enough for the other to see the golden crest on the flap. Fighting Jack
dropped his arm.

“The marquis?”

“None other.” Drigg could not keep a certain smug satisfaction from his
voice.

“Well, come along then. You’ll have to wear overalls, it’s mucky
up’t‘face.”

“The message must be delivered.”

There was a work train waiting for the head ganger, a stubby electric
en-gine drawing a single open car with boxes of supplies. It pulled out as
soon as they were aboard and they rode the footplate behind the
engi-neer. The track passed the town, cut through the fields, then dived
into a black tunnel where the only light was a weak glow from the
illumi-nated dials so that Drigg had to clutch for support fearful that he
would be tossed out into the jolting darkness. Then they were in the
sun-shine again and slowing down as they moved towards a second tunnel
mouth. It was far grander than the other with a facing of hewn granite
blocks and marble pillars that sup-ported a great lintel that had been done
in the Doric style. This was deeply carved with the words that still brought
a certain catch to Drigg’s throat, even after all his years with the company.

TRANSATLANTIC TUNNEL they read.

Transatlantic tunnel—what an am-bition! Less emotional men than he
had been caught by the magic of those words and, even though there was
scarcely more than a mile of tunnel behind this imposing façade, the thrill
was still there. Imagination led one on, plunging into the earth, diving
beneath the sea, rushing un-der those deep oceans of dark water for
thousands of miles to emerge into the sunlight again in the New World.

Lights moved by, slower and slower, until the work train stopped before
a concrete wall that sealed the tunnel like an immense plug.

“Last stop, follow me,” Fighting Jack called out and swung down to the
floor in a movement remarkably easy for a man his size. “Have you ever
been down t’tunnel before?”

“Never.” Drigg was ready enough to admit ignorance of this alien
envi-ronment. Men moved about and called to each other with strange
in-structions, fallen metal clanged and echoed from the arched tunnel
above them where unshielded lights hung to illuminate a Dante-ish scene
of strange machines, tracks and cars, nameless equipment. “Never!”
 “Nothing to worry you, Mr. Drigg, safe as houses if you do the right
things at the right time. I’ve been working on the railways and the tunnels
all m’life and outside of a few split ribs, cracked skull, a broken leg and a