"Burial at sea 1961" - читать интересную книгу автора (Thompson Hunter S)

"To settle this damn thing!" Laurenson replied, starting down the ladder. At the bottom, he looked into the main cabin.

Anne was in her bunk. There was enough light for him to be sure there was a body between the sheets. He tip-toed in and lit a match. She was sound asleep. He put the match up to the bunk and saw shadows flicker in her blond hair, saw her naked shoulders glow in the dim light.

Maier shook him awake at dawn the next day. "All hands on deck! We're about to get a workout."

Laurenson kicked savagely at the hand on his leg. "Don't touch me!" he screamed. "I'm getting up!"

Maier's eyes narrowed. He turned and walked away without a word. Laurenson began dressing.

When he got on deck he saw what Maier had meant. A dangerous looking squall blackened the whole northern horizon.

They ate a hurried breakfast and the squall struck just as they finished. A light rain came first, then a hellish wind, and finally a roaring, pounding sea that threatened to smash the boat to splinters at any moment.

Laurenson watched from his perch on the leeward deck, clinging to the cockpit rail to keep from being washed overboard. The sky was almost black and it was impossible to see more than twenty yards in any direction. The Sebastian was heeled over at an impossible angle and every big white-cap he saw brought him closer to panic.

Suddenly a wild shout came from the direction of the bow, scaring Laurenson so badly that he almost lost his grip. "Chick! The jib!"

Laurenson looked up and saw the top of the jib literally going to pieces in the wind. Three seams had parted and two more ripped out in the space of thirty seconds.

"Haul it down!" Maier shouted. "Get the bastard down!" He turned to Laurenson: "Get me the staysail out of the lazerette! Goddamnit, move!"

Laurenson was petrified with fear. He was only six feet from the laerette, but as he looked back at it, trying to make himself move, it seemed like sixty yards of open water. Maier's scream jolted him into action. "Laurenson! You stupid bastard! Bring me that sail!"

Laurenson began to inch his way along the deck toward the lazerette. He moved sideways on his belly, feeling the water rush over him as he clung to the rail. His hands were numb, and ice-cold saltwater raced through his crotch.

The instant he lifted the cover to the lazerette the sea jerked it out of his hands and carried it away. It sank instantly and the loss filled him with such fear and despair that he began to cry. He lay there on his belly, sobbing as he groped for the bag that contained the staysail.

He pulled it out, barely able to see, and started crawling along the deck to the bow. As he passed the main hatch he saw Anne standing there on the ladder, wearing a rain-jacket and watching him with an expression on her face he had never seen before. He turned his head as he passed her.

Maier was screaming savagely when he finally got to the bow. "The sail! You stupid bastard! Give me the goddamn sail!" He was out on the bowsprit, his legs wrapped around it, facing the stern and hanging on to the forward stay.

Laurenson worked desperately with the knot at the top of the sailbag, but it was soaking wet and his hands shook so badly that he could barely hold it.

"Cut it!" Maier screamed.

Eble reached over with a knife and slashed the rope. Laurenson jerked the bag open.

The first thing he pulled out was a brown sweater. The spray was so heavy that he could barely see what he had in his hands, but he knew it wasn't a sail. Desperately, he reached in again. This time he came up with a pair of khaki pants.

Maier's scream made the sea seem calm. It was a wild, piercing shriek:"Oh crazy God! you've brought me a bag of clothes!"

Laurenson looked up, his face twisted with fear and confusion, and saw Maier hurl the jib halyard at him. The big steel leader thumped into his chest like a cannonball.

He fell backward, tripped over the hatch, and slid down the deck toward the rail. He grabbed for the mast, but couldn't hold on. Just at his feet went into the water, he felt his arm hit the wire lifeline.

He hung there, sobbing and gasping while Eble went back for the staysail and the two men put it up. Finally, they hauled him back aboard and he lay on the deck, gasping for air and vomiting water.

Somehow he got down to the cabin, where he slept for several hours. When he woke up the squall had passed. No one spoke whne he appeared on deck, so he sat alone on the bow and watched the sun go down. Just as it got dark they saw a light on the horizon. Maier looked up from his seat in the cockpit. "There's Bermuda," he said quietly. "That's the Globe Hill light."