Джеймс Кейн - Mignon

“I can hail and ask for orders,” said Sandy.

And then, as he still stared at the skiff: “But it does seem to me that before we talk about them , we ought to dismantle this mine. It’s dangerous, even sitting here.”

“ We ought to? They have to, you mean.”

He turned to Landry and Burke, who hadn’t opened their mouths. “Hey you,” he roared, “get in this skiff and uncouple it. Disconnect this outrigger, and especially these prongs that lead to the caps.”

“Then — stand back,” said Mr. Landry.

“Don’t worry, we will.”

Then the captain noticed that Burke hadn’t moved. “You too,” he bellowed, waving the gun. “Get in there and help.”

“Me man, I’m not a mechanic,” said Burke.

“No? Then you’re learning, right now!”

“Disarm him first,” I warned.

“That’s right. I should have done it before.”

He slapped Landry for weapons, didn’t find any, made a half-hearted slap at her. Then he turned to Burke. If Burke made a swipe at his gun I can’t rightly say. It seemed to me that he did, and I opened my mouth to yell. It must have seemed so to the captain, and he fired, and Burke pitched into the stream, lying there in a heap, water rippling over his head. She screamed and started to whisper. “Speak louder!” I snarled. “He can’t hear you!” Then I could have cut my tongue out; she was praying, in French.

“That’s not so good,” growled the captain.

No one said anything, and for some moments the chill settled down, with her still whispering, the river lapping the boat, the stream purling at Burke. And then, in a half-hysterical way, the captain turned on Mr. Landry, yelling: “Didn’t you hear me? Start dismantling, I said!”

“I’m sorry, it can’t be done.”

“You’re telling me what can be done?”

“You want to be blown sky-high?”

Mr. Landry wasn’t fazed at the gun the Captain was waving, and seemed scientifically interested in explaining what must be done: The torpedo couldn’t be touched; it would have to be exploded. “I’ll be glad to show you why,” he said, wading into the stream. But he didn’t point to the kegs, or approach the outrigger end of the skiff. Instead, he picked up the chain, and with a tremendous kick, sent the skiff into Red River. I saw the flash, I heard the report, I suppose I glimpsed Mr. Landry falling over beside Burke. But all I could really think of was that dreadful, destructive thing that was plunging down on our dam, her kegs connected up, her drag chain keeping her headed. I didn’t wait to know who was killed, but went splashing into the river, fighting my way waist-deep, trying to catch up, to grab the chain, to do anything to head off what was coming. Then, to my horror, in the glare of the fire ahead, I saw one end of the skiff rise on a sunken rock, and then I had my hands on the gunnel. Then I was wrestling it, trying to tip it over, to spill those kegs into the water before that outrigger hit something. At last I got a capsize and the danger was over. Then I was spinning, as the current swept me along, and then I broke into ten thousand pieces as my game leg hit a rock that was sticking up. I heard screams coming out of my mouth, and then heard nothing but a ringing in my ears. Then bushes touched my face, and the lantern was shining on me. A cutter was there by the bank, so close I could almost touch it, and seamen were standing around. Then I caught the smell of Russian Leather, and she pulled my head against her. “Speak to me, Willie!” she whispered. “Say something!”

“Yes,” I said. “I’m all right.”

“Kiss me. Kiss me! ”

“... Kind of public for that, don’t you think?”

“Willie! They’re fixing to do something to me, for what we tried with that boat! You may not see me again! Kiss me, tell me you love me!”

“You know I do, don’t you?”

Then we both kissed, sweet, long, and holy.

All during that, the captain held the lantern; he was soaking wet, so I knew who had got me out. When the seamen had put her in the cutter and shoved off for the other side, he half-carried me back to the bivouac and began bellowing for an ambulance to take me to the courthouse, “where you’ll be under a surgeon, who’ll put you in for discharge, unless I miss my guess, as I seriously doubt if you’ll be fit for duty any more.” But no ambulance came, and he stripped off my clothes, did the same for his own, and hung all our things on a line that he stretched between trees, where they’d get the heat of the fire. Then he wrapped me in a blanket, pulled one over himself, and sat there a while thinking. Then: “That girl,” he said, “what is she to you?”

“In all but name, my wife.”

“She’s in damned serious trouble.”

“She damned well knows it.”

“... Or she would be, except for you.”

“What have I got to do with it?”

“You destroyed the evidence against her.”

“Oh — you mean the skiff?”

“And powder and wiring and outrigger.”

“Well, what did you want me to do — let it go sailing downstream to blow the dam up so they’d have a case to hang her? What’s more important to the Navy, their boats or one poor girl’s neck?”

“Hey! I’m trying to cheer you up!”

“I’m sorry. I’m off my usual.”

“I’d say she deserves to be hung, but may not be.”

“It wasn’t her, it was her father, and—”

“Calm down, take it easy.”

So the horrible night wore on, but at least I did have a ray of hope, and it wasn’t so bad as it had been. Once, we all but jumped out of our skins and thought the skiff had made it, in spite of my turning it over, when two barges went out with a noise like cannon shot, when their hawsers parted and they slammed down on the rocks two hundred feet downstream. He cursed and raved and wept, assuming it all would spill out, the depth we’d worked so hard to get. It was my turn to cheer him up. I assured him things were improved, that the pressure would now be eased, “so back-up and outflow will be equalized, without the whole dam going out.” He shook my hand, felt our clothes, and got us dressed. When daylight came, an ambulance pulled in, but he had it wait while he helped me out, crawling along the catwalk, to the second of the two remaining barges, so I could see the show of the boats coming out. “After all you’ve done, you’re certainly entitled to that much,” he said.

We sat on the upstream end, holding on to a cleat, and as far as you could see, on both banks of the river, was blue, because, except for men on duty, the whole army was there to see how the thing came out — no one believing in it. You could see men moving around, but as though in a dumb show; you couldn’t hear a thing from the roar of the torrent beside us, plunging down through the chute between the barge we were on and the cribs on the other side like a young Niagara. Then, along toward seven o’clock, we made out smoke on the falls. Then we could see a hull, with foam under the forefoot. That meant power, and the captain began to scream: “No, no! Cut those engines, man, cut ’ em! ” Not that the pilot heard him, but once more I cheered him up. “He has to have power!” I yelled in his ear. “ He must have steering way! ” I don’t know if he even heard me, but the boat came right on, at express-train speed, her own fifteen miles an hour plus at least twelve from the current. That brought her down on us fast, and then here she was, up over our heads, coming into the chute. Then she was roaring by, so close we felt her breeze. Then she was down, and then she crashed into the nearest barge, where it hung below on the rocks. It seemed she must come apart, but then she was caroming off, then spinning around, right in front of the hotel. And then, so help me, she tooted.