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husbands. Chattel. Women owned by their husbands.
The motion of the lorry lulled her and Kate fell asleep after a time. Stephen
glanced down at her, his expression worried. Poor Kate. It was beginning to
get cold in the chamber. He found a blanket and spread it over her. She
stirred restlessly under his touch but did not awaken. She remained asleep
even when Nylan Gunn spoke again from the lorry's cab.
"We've just had a signal from Barrier Command, Admiral Francis Delacourt
himself. He has our request under advisement but he says also his orders are
to assist in any legitimate undertaking associated with plague research. He
sounds like a pompous ass."
Kate awakened after a while only to use the convenience and inquire if she had
heard Gunn speaking or "was that a dream?"
"Barrier Command's been asked to provide us with passage to England," Stephen
said, extracting the sense from Gunn's words.
Her voice was sleepy as she returned to the bed and pulled the blanket up to
her chin: "Why would they send us to England?"
"I think there's going to be another civil war in Ireland," Stephen said.
"Doheny wants us in a safe place."
"Men," she muttered.
The lorry stopped at dusk below the crest of a hill. Stephen, looking out a
port, saw eight tanks parked beside the road. A helmeted figure stood out of
the lead tank's hatch and called to the lorry:
"We've the situation in hand! Go straight down to the docks. There'll be a
jeep to lead you at the next intersection."
The lorry eased ahead in low gear, topped the hill and gathered speed.
Burning buildings could be glimpsed out the ports. They passed a cluster of
sprawled bodies beside a shattered wall. Darkness curtained the view by the
time they rolled out onto the pier and stopped, but orange spots of fire could
be seen on the surrounding hills.
It was cold on the pier and getting colder. Stephen found a flashlight and
pointed it at Kate. There was a glassy look of fear in her eyes.
"Shut that off! Please, Stephen!"
He turned off the torch and crawled under the blankets beside her. They could
hear the cables being moved and adjusted against the chamber's metal. There
was a grinding engine sound. Voices called out commands.
Nylan Gunn's voice intruded from the speaker: "Barrier Command's providing
you with passage to England. They've sent in a barge and a tug. Not to
worry. It's going to be all right. Now we're going to disconnect the
compressor again to lift you off. It'll join you on the barge in a few
minutes. Bon voyage!"
They heard the compressor go silent, more movements of the cables, more engine
sounds.
Metal rapped sharply against the side of the chamber and a voice called out:
"Hold on in there! We're going to lift you now."
The chamber lurched and they felt it swing. Stephen put an arm over Kate to
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steady her. The end port gave them a blurred view of bright spotlights and
dark water, orange gouts of fire, then a swinging glimpse of dock buildings.
"Steady the thing, you idiots!" a voice shouted.
The swinging stopped. There came a sickening drop. Kate emitted a small
shriek. The descent stopped, then resumed at a steadier pace, ending abruptly
with a thump.
"Pass a line over both ends!" someone shouted. "That's it! Then around here.
Make it fast. Now, the netting. There's going to be a lot of pitching about
out there."
Kate wondered about that remark as they got under way. She heard the rumbling
surge of powerful engines, then smooth movement detected mostly by watching
the spotlights at the dockside recede. Stephen busied himself securing loose
objects, tucking them in around the edges of the mattress, wedging them with
books under the bed's plywood base, securing the safety lines.
The smooth movement changed suddenly to a steady fore-and-aft tipping.
Stephen leaned across her to peer out a port on her side. He could see only
the dark side of the tug, an edge of a red running light. Within minutes, the
tipping became a lifting and dropping with definite pounding of water near the
head of the chamber. Spray washed past the ports. Kate tasted a sourness in
her throat. This new motion shifted suddenly to a heaving pounding craziness,
a twisting at the end of each drop. Stephen wedged himself against the side
of their bed and held firmly to Kate.
Only yesterday, Kate thought, she had been complaining because nothing changed
in their quarters. The temperature had always been kept so annoyingly warm.
She had used much of the morning to sort and fold their few items of clothing.
A lucky thing. It had made the move into the little chamber much easier.
She gripped Stephen's arm as the barge under them took that moment to make a
particularly sickening descent into a wave. As they came up out of the
trough, she felt something warm seep down both legs, then a gush of liquid.
"Stephen!"
"It's all right, love. They'll get us across."
"Stephen, the baby's coming!" she wailed. She tried to sit up, steadying
herself with a hand against the wooden lip that Stephen had added to their
bed, but the barge under them was dropping down into another trough, pitching
her onto her back.
It was all wrong, she thought. Weren't there supposed to be pains first,
contractions? And it was too early! The baby wasn't due for more than a
month.
Stephen groped for the torch, found it and snapped it on. Kate had kicked off
the blanket and lay now in a puddle of amniotic fluid. He left her for an
instant to rip the sterilized sheet off its covering position over the lock.
She helped him draw the sheet under her. It was still damp and smelled
awfully of the antiseptic.
"Weren't there any contractions?" he asked.
"Nothing but the water breaking. Something's wrong, Stephen." Her voice
degenerated into a wail. "I'm afraid."
He wedged the torch beside the mattress, pointing it upward to reflect off the
metal above them. His face appeared calm, but she knew he had only book
knowledge of pregnancy and birth. She felt him taking command, though. He
had the ropes rigged around his shoulders now and another rope across her
chest. The bed pitched and twisted terribly with the sea's movements. She
heard the keening of the wind, the sodden slosh of water against the tank.
The torch fell from its position. Stephen recovered it and wedged it more
tightly.
"I can feel the contractions," she gasped. "Ohhhhhhhh! Not now!"
"Be calm, darling."
"Why couldn't it wait?"
Another contraction brought a cry from her. "I don't know what to do," she
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wailed. Perspiration ran off her body.
"I know what to do, darling. Let the contractions come."
What was he doing down there? She tried to lift her head and look down at him
where he crouched between her legs. He pushed her back.
"Stay flat! Hold on to that rope."
"It's too soon! It's too soon," she wailed.
She could feel the pitching of the barge as it drove Stephen lurching against
her legs. Another contraction gripped her. Another.
"I'm timing them" Stephen said, a hand on her abdomen.
"First baby," she gasped. "It may be slow." At least that was what the
nursing manuals advised, she remembered.
Another contraction. Another. She felt her world devolve into crazy motion
and the periodic contractions.
"I can see the head," Stephen said. "That roll of dry blankets beside you on
the left. I'll need one. See if you can reach it."
She was grateful for something to do. Between contractions, her clutching [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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