"Gordon R. Dickson - 8 Short Stories and Novellas" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dickson Gordon R)

automatic signal on his position and predicament. Just at that moment the
standby burners had cut in automatically тАУ which was where he had
acquired the bloody nose, when the unexpected thrust slammed him
against the controls. Then he had cut some forty-two various switches, got
back to the main compartment, unharnessed his passengers, herded them
into the escape hatch, blown them all clear, hit the water, inflated the life
raft, and got them aboard it just as the escape hatch itself sank gracefully
out of sight. The pot, of course, had gone down like so much pig iron when
it hit.
 And here they were.
Chuck wiped his nose again and looked at the far end of the rectangular
life raft. Binichi, the closer of the two, was half-lolling, half-sitting on the
curved muscle of his tail. His curved mouth was half-open as if he might be
laughing at them. And indeed, thought Chuck, he very well might. Chuck
and the envoy, adrift on this watery waste, in this small raft, were castaways
in a situation that threatened their very lives. Binichi the Lugh was merely
and comfortably back at home.
"Binichi," said Chuck. "Do you know where we are?"
The curved jaw gaped slightly wider. The Lugh head turned this way and
that on the almost nonexistent neck; then, twisting, he leaned over the edge
of the raft and plunged his whole head briefly under water like a duck
searching for food. He pulled his head out again, now slick with moisture.
"Yes," said Binichi.
"How far are we from the coast of the south continent?"
"A day's swim," said Binichi. "And most of a night." He gave his
information as a simple statement of fact. But Chuck knew the Lugh was
reckoning in his own terms of speed and distance, which were roughly
twelve nautical miles an hour as a steady pace. Undoubtedly it could be
done in better time if a Lugh had wished to push himself. The human Base
had clocked some of this race at up to eighty miles an hour through the
water for short bursts of speed.
Chuck calculated. With the small outboard thrust unit provided for the raft,
they would be able to make about four miles an hour if no currents went
against them. Increase Binichi's estimate then by a factor of three тАУ three
days and nights with a slight possibility of its being less and a very great
probability of its taking more. Thought of the thrust unit reminded him. He
went to work unfolding it from its waterproof seal and attaching it in running
position. Binichi watched him with interest, his head cocked a little on one
side like an inquisitive bird's; but as soon as the unit began to propel the raft
through the waves at its maximum cruising speed of four miles an hour, his
attention disappeared.
With the raft running smoothly, Chuck had another question.
"Which way?"
Binichi indicated with a short thick-muscled forearm, and Chuck swung
the raft in nearly a full turn. A slight shiver ran down his spine as he did so.
He had been heading away from land out into nearly three thousand miles
of open ocean.
"Now," said Chuck; locking the tiller, and looking at both of them. "It'll take
us three days and nights to make the coast. And another three or four days
to make it overland from there to the Base. The accident happened so