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

suddenly reversed again. It was like being on a monstrous seesaw that,
even as it went up and down, was sliding back and forth on greased rollers.
At some indeterminate time later, Chuck began to worry about their being
washed out of the raft. There were lines in the locker attached midway to
the left-hand side of the raft. He crawled forward on hands and knees and
found the box. It opened to his cold fingers, and he clawed out the coiled
lines.
It struck him then, for the first time, that on this small, circumscribed raft,
he should have bumped into Binichi or the envoy in making his way to the
box. He lifted his face to the wind and the rain and darkness, but it told him
nothing. And then he felt something nudge his elbow.
"He is gone," said the voice of the envoy's translator, in Chuck's ear.
"Gone?" yelled Chuck above the storm. "He went over the side a little
while ago."
Chuck clung to the box as the raft suddenly reversed its angle.
"How do you know?"
"I saw him," said the envoy.
"You тАУ" Chuck yelled, "you can see in this?"
There was a slight pause.
"Of course," said the envoy. "Can't you?"
"No." Chuck unwound the lines. "We better tie ourselves into the raft," he
shouted. "Keep from being washed overboard."
The envoy did not answer. Taking silence for assent, Chuck reached for
him in the obscurity and passed one of the lines about the chitinous body.
He secured the line tightly to the ring-handgrips fastened to the inner side
of the raft's edge. Then he tied himself securely with a line around his waist
to a handgrip further back by the thrust unit.
They continued to ride the pitching ocean. After some time, the brutal
beating of the rain slackened off; and a little light began to filter through.
The storm cleared then, as suddenly as it had commenced. Within minutes
the raft heaved upon a metal-gray sea under thinning clouds in a sky from
which the rain had ceased falling.
Teeth chattering, Chuck crawled forward to his single remaining
passenger and untied the rope around him. The envoy was crouched down
in his corner, his great claw hugging his back, as if he huddled for warmth.
When Chuck untied him, he remained so motionless that Chuck was struck
with the sudden throat-tightening fear that he was dead.
"Are you all right?" asked Chuck.
"Thank you," said the envoy; "I am in perfect health."
Chuck turned away to contemplate the otherwise empty raft. He was, he
told himself, doing marvelously. Already, one of his charges had taken off .
. . and then, before he could complete the thought, the raft rocked suddenly
and the Lugh slithered aboard over one high side.
He and Chuck looked at each other. Binichi bubbled comfortably.
"Looks like the storm's over," said Chuck.
"It is blowing to the south of us now," said the Lugh.
"How far are we from land, now?"
"We should come to it," said Binichi, "in the morning."
Chuck blinked a little in surprise. This was better time than he had
planned. And then he realized that the wind was blowing at their backs, and