"Baker, Kage - The Wreck of the Gladstone" - читать интересную книгу автора (Baker Kage)

I sat with the infant in my lap, in a pool of light that moved as the lamp swung on its gimbal. Mrs. Hayes slept sound in her bunk.
"He's a boy, is he?" Kalugin came in and bent over us. The child lay still; it had already discovered that moving took much more strength than it had. Kalugin noticed the cyanosis at once, and scanning he found the heart defect. "Oh, dear," he said. He put a finger in the tiny cold hand, which closed on it without force. The infant worked its face into a squinting grimace that was a perfect parody of its father, but it did not cry. It hadn't enough breath.
Kalugin sat down beside me. I leaned against him and we watched the child fight.
"The mother will do well enough," I said tiredly. "For the present. Although her grief, and her brute of a husband, and her poverty and her disappointment will make her wonder why she should."
"Victor is finishing up with Hayes now," said Kalugin. "Nothing left to do but the post-hypnosis, I expect. As soon as the storm clears we can put them ashore, and well and truly wash our hands of the wretched things."
I nodded. The child made a gurgling sound and all its limbs stiffened. For a terrible moment we waited; but, like a swimmer cresting a wave, it struggled and drew another breath, and kept breathing.
"It's Pity, like the new-born babe, striding the blast," said Kalugin softly. "Here he is, come to visit us. Yes, hello, I know you well, don't I? You've lived in my heart this many a year. One more piece of mortal wreckage I must watch sink."
The rocking of the lamp was growing less; the squall was blowing out. Kalugin went on in his sleepy voice:
"I've gone down with too many ships, Nan. Why couldn't they have made me strong, like Victor? I really ought to get into another line of work."
And we laughed at that, both of us, sadly, for none of us can ever, ever get into another line of work. We are what we are. Kalugin kissed me and took the child in his arms.
"You need to sleep, my love. I'll watch them a while. Go on."
So I went, gratefully, and (to admit my cowardice) readily enough as well, for I knew the child would be gone soon and I would be relieved to avoid any further mortal tragedy. Yet it seemed I was not to be spared that sorrow: for I was wakened from brief dreams by Mrs. Hayes crying out. I drew on my robe and ran to her cabin.
She was alone there, sitting up wild-eyed. "Where's my baby?" she demanded. "What did you do with my baby?"
I took both her hands in my own. "My dear, I know you are strong -- "
"Why, what's all the to-do?" inquired Kalugin, coming in behind me. I whirled about to look at him. He was unshaven and his eyes were puffy with exhaustion, but there was an enormous jauntiness in his whole frame. "Here's the little chap!" And he produced the infant from inside his coat like a conjuror. I snatched the child from him and scanned it hastily.
It was not only still alive but vibrantly alive, its flesh a deep rose color, its tiny heart beating strongly. Not all the radiant health in the world could make it a pretty child, because it was the image of its father: nevertheless it had a certain goblin charm. So much was clear even without benefit of much examination: Kalugin had spirited the little thing off to the ship's dispensary and repaired its heart defect. If that were all!
As I probed deeper, my horrified perceptions made the shocking truth quite plain: the child had not merely been repaired but _modified!_ Made one of Us, in a manner of speaking. Not to the extent of making him an Immortal, of course, for Kalugin had neither the knowledge, tools nor time to do such a dreadful thing: but I read enhanced abilities, certain crude structural improvements, favorable genetic alterations induced ... I began to tremble as I realized the extent of the changes Kalugin had wrought. I attempted to scan a second time to be certain, but Mrs. Hayes was reaching out for him.
I put him in her arms. "It's a little boy, Mrs. Hayes," I told her in a faint voice.
"Oh, Mackie'll be ever so happy!" she said, and fell to examining him with delight. I turned wondering eyes to Kalugin. _Do you understand what you have done?_
_You shan't tell anyone, _he transmitted. _I shan't tell anyone. Who's to know?_
I had no words to respond to him that might suitably express my terror and dismay. To breach Company procedure in such a fashion was to risk far, far more serious consequences than disciplinary counseling. Oh, if he were ever found out!
"What's this, though?" Mrs. Hayes said, touching the thin red scar on the infant's breast.
"A birthmark, I should guess." Kalugin gathered me to him with an arm. I must have seemed in danger of fainting. "Nothing to concern you unduly, Mrs. Hayes. Why, he can have it covered with a tattoo when he grows up -- for I daresay he'll be a sailor, like his father."
"I guess so." She looked wistful. "Though I kind of hope he turns out to be a Christian instead. Mackie don't hold with gospel much." Her face became woebegone as she remembered the predicament her mate was in. Kalugin patted her hand gallantly.
"In view of the happy occasion, we have decided not to press charges against Mr. Hayes," he told her. "Our intention is to set you ashore presently, with some remuneration for Mr. Hayes' services on the _Gladstone_, to which he is after all entitled. We do regret the loss of your boat, but she was scarcely seaworthy. You were lucky to escape with your lives. What a blessing we were standing by when she went down!"
She shed tears of fervent gratitude. I held close to Kalugin, marveling at him.
* * * *
Some little while after I took Mrs. Hayes' things out on deck to dry them. The spiral of the storm was moving away to the north and it had become a fine morning, with strong sunlight and a freshening breeze. Sea-birds circled the _Chronos_, wheeling and mewing; dolphins leapt and sported in the glittering water all around us.
"Yes, all Nature rejoices at our success," said Victor grandly, pausing in a lap of his morning constitutional about the deck. "The loathsome Hayes is safely immured below, happy in his oblivion. He shan't wake until well after he's safely ashore and we've salvaged the _Gladstone_."
"You've persuaded him to discretion?" I spread out a shabby cotton frock in the sunlight.
"Oh, quite. If he ever does speak of us to anyone, it'll be in such a way his hearers will condemn him for a rank liar or a lunatic. Never fear. I gather the unfortunate female pupped, by the way?"
I pursed my lips. "Yes, the poor child had her blessed event early this morning. Need we do anything further? Her lot could scarcely be made more unfortunate. Ought we not err on the side of compassion and set her ashore without further processing?"
"Hm! I suppose so. Some sort of humane gesture might be in order. She's got to live with Hayes, after all! Though I rather think he'll ship out on the first vessel he can hail, now that his prospects for the _Gladstone_ are gone. Didn't strike me as a family man."
This was certainly likely, and for Mrs. Hayes' sake I could not be unhappy at the prospect of her abandonment by such a creature. But in truth there was some quality of ineffable happiness in the morning air, for all the violent and near-tragic events of the night now past, some celestial mirth at some tremendous joke. And the unthinkable joke was on Victor, after all. _So long as he never found out what Kalugin had done..._
* * * *
Toward midday we put in to the island, where Mrs. Hayes directed us to a likely anchorage. The settlement there was no more than a cluster of squatters' shacks, grey and leaning with age, tucked away in the ravines under the looming mountains of the interior. A few goats grazed on the hills; there were a few garden patches where patient industry had coaxed forth a few dry cabbage and spinach plants, and one or two fig trees. Upon this dismal prospect Mrs. Hayes looked with fond anticipation, when she could bear to lift her regard from happy contemplation of the child who slept shaded in her bosom, and allowed herself to be handed down into the whaleboat without a murmur. She did look up with timid concern when Hayes was brought up on deck in a stretcher; she did squeak and flutter in a wifely way as the servants loaded him into the whaleboat; but it was evident that their parting, when it should occur, would be considerably softened by the presence of her boy.
With a merry face Kalugin bent to the oars to take them to land. Mme. Masaki and I waved our handkerchiefs in farewell, Victor beamed on them in his cold way, thumbs in his waistcoat pockets; a band of ragged children came running down to the water's edge to help the passengers ashore. I felt again the sensation of being present at some event of cosmic significance, on that bright day in that remote place; yet I have been present at several significant moments in history without any such mysterious intimations at all.
We put to sea again and returned to the site of the wreck. Once we had blessed _privacy_, it took less than two hours to locate and retrieve the long cylinder containing the lost painting. Kalugin and Mm. Masaki rose to the surface bearing it between them, and when it was safely on board it was borne straight to my laboratory, where, having made all the necessary preparations, I waited to receive it and begin the work of restoration.
When he had bathed and rested from his ordeal, Kalugin stopped in to visit me as I bent over the object of our concern.
"How badly was it damaged?" he inquired.
"Not badly at all, dearest. There are a few little tears. The varnish bloomed, as you see, but really I have seen much worse."
Kalugin leaned close to consider Delacroix's great canvas opened out before us. An outdoor temple was the setting, milk-white columns rising into a sky black and churning with storm clouds. From the upper-right-hand corner, Jupiter looked down on the scene with paternal indulgence and a certain Gallic smirk. Juno his spouse regarded him from the upper-left-hand corner, her stare terrible and direct, holding in her raised hands the serpents with which she intended to avenge herself. Their bright coils and the patterns of her bracelets formed spiraling patterns of energy echoed in the draperies on Queen Alcmena's couch, down in the center-right of the canvas; she must have had a Celtic needlewoman. The Queen herself lay in a cozy pool of golden light, pale limbs slack with the exhaustion of her labor, lifting sweet vacant features to the midwife. This figure stood half-silhouetted in the left foreground, enigmatic and powerful, holding up the infant demigod; and he was rendered with strong and twisting brushstrokes in smoky red, not an idealized cherub at all but a howling, flailing, bloody newborn.
"Extraordinary painting," said Kalugin. "What contrasts! Sentimental and crude all at once. What can the artist have been thinking of?"
"It's an allegory, dear," I explained, reaching for another scrap of cottonwool. "There was some kind of scandal in Paris society. Someone the artist knew was a co-respondent in a _dread_fully public divorce trial, with a question of paternity. The painting was done as a joke, in rather poor taste I think, and was never exhibited for that reason."
"What vile, silly creatures they are." Kalugin shook his head. "And yet, look: out of such a sordid business comes beauty. I am not sorry for what I did."
I set down my materials and turned, taking his hand firmly in my own. _You mustn't speak of that again, my love. Not ever._
_Never again,_ he agreed. _But if I lay at the bottom of the sea a thousand nights for it, still would I have done the same._
He kissed me and went away to his own duties. Presently the sunlight slanted and moved along the wall: the _Chronos_ was tacking about, taking us home to Europe. I opened another bottle of cleaning solvent and settled in to the rhythms of my work, making fresh and new again the old story of the birth of the Hero.