inca.gold-第33部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！


　　　　〃Thank　you；　Mr。　Bender。　Thank　you　very　much。　I'll　treat　the　journal　with　every　bit　of　the　respect　it　deserves。〃
　　　　〃Good。　I　hope　you　find　what　you're　looking　for。〃
　　　　〃So　do　I；〃　said　Perlmutter；　his　confidence　soaring　over　the　breakthrough。　〃Believe　me；　so　do　I。〃


　　　　At　twenty　minutes　after　ten　o'clock　the　next　morning；　Perlmutter　threw　open　the　door　before　the　Federal　Express　driver　could　punch　the　doorbell　button。　〃You　must　be　expecting　this；　Mr。　Perlmutter；　〃　said　the　young　blackhaired　man；　wearing　glasses　and　a　friendly　smile。
　　　　〃Like　a　child　waiting　for　Santa。〃　Perlmutter　laughed；　signing　for　the　reinforced　envelope。
　　　　He　hurried　into　his　study；　pulling　the　tab　and　opening　the　envelope　as　he　walked。　He　sat　at　his　desk；　slipped　on　his　glasses；　and　held　the　journal　of　Thomas　Cuttill　in　his　hands　as　if　it　were　the　Holy　Grail。　The　cover　was　the　skin　of　some　unidentifiable　animal　and　the　pages　were　yellowed　parchment　in　a　state　of　excellent　preservation。　The　ink　was　brown；　probably　a　concoction　Cuttill　had　managed　to　brew　from　the　root　of　some　tree。　There　were　no　more　than　twenty　pages。　The　entries　were　written　in　the　quaint　Elizabethan　prose　of　the　day。　The　handwriting　seemed　labored；　with　any　number　of　misspellings；　indicating　a　man　who　was　reasonably　well　educated　for　the　times。　The　first　entry　was　dated　March　1578；　but　was　written　much　later：

Mine　strange　historie　of　the　passte　sexteen　yeares；　by　Thomas　Cuttill；　formerly　of　Devonshire。
　　　　It　was　the　account　of　a　shipwrecked　sailor；　cast　away　after　barely　surviving　the　sea's　violent　fury；　only　to　endure　incredible　hardships　in　a　savage　land　in　his　unsuccessful　attempt　to　return　home。　As　he　read　the　passages；　beginning　with　Cuttill's　departure　from　England　with　Drake；　Perlmutter　noted　that　it　was　written　in　a　more　honest　style　than　narratives　of　later　centuries；　which　were　littered　with　sermons；　romantic　exaggerations；　and　clichés。　Cuttill's　persistence；　his　will　to　survive；　and　his　ingenuity　in　overing　terrible　obstacles　without　once　begging　for　the　help　of　God　made　a　profound　impression　on　Perlmutter。　Cuttill　was　a　man　he　would　like　to　have　known。
　　　　After　finding　himself　the　only　survivor　on　the　galleon　after　the　tidal　wave　carried　it　far　inland；　Cuttill　chose　the　unknown　horrors　of　the　mountains　and　jungle　rather　than　capture　and　torture　by　the　avenging　Spanish；　who　were　mad　as　wasps　at　the　audacious　capture　of　their　treasure　galleon　by　the　hated　Englishman；　Drake。　All　Cuttill　knew　was　that　the　Atlantic　Ocean　lay　somewhere　far　to　the　east。　How　far；　he　could　not　even　guess。　Reaching　the　sea；　and　then　somehow　finding　a　friendly　ship　that　might　carry　him　back　to　England　would　be　nothing　short　of　a　miracle。　But　it　was　the　only　path　open　to　him。
　　　　On　the　western　slopes　of　the　Andes　the　Spanish　had　already　created　colonies　of　large　estates；　now　worked　by　the　once…proud　Incas；　who　were　enslaved　and　greatly　reduced　in　numbers　by　inhumane　treatment　and　infection　from　measles　and　smallpox。　Cuttill　crept　through　the　estates　under　cover　of　darkness；　stealing　food　at　every　opportunity。　After　two　months　of　traveling　a　few　short　kilometers　each　night　to　elude　the　Spanish　and　remain　out　of　sight　of　any　Indians　who　might　give　him　away；　he　crossed　over　the　continental　divide　of　the　Andes；　through　the　isolated　valleys；　and　descended　into　the　green　hell　of　the　Amazon　River　Basin。
　　　　From　that　point　on；　Cuttill's　life　became　even　more　of　a　nightmare。　He　struggled　through　unending　swamps　up　to　his　waist；　fought　his　way　through　forests　so　thick　every　meter　of　growth　had　to　be　cut　away　with　his　knife。　Swarms　of　insects；　snakes；　and　alligators　were　a　constant　peril；　the　snakes　often　attacking　without　warning。　He　suffered　from　dysentery　and　fever　but　still　struggled　on；　often　covering　only　100　meters　（328　feet）　during　daylight。　After　several　months；　he　stumbled　into　a　village　of　hostile　natives；　who　immediately　tied　him　with　ropes　and　kept　him　imprisoned　as　a　slave　for　five　years。
　　　　Cuttill　finally　managed　to　escape　by　stealing　a　dugout　canoe　and　paddling　down　the　Amazon　River　at　night　under　a　waning　moon。　Contracting　malaria；　he　came　within　an　inch　of　dying；　but　as　he　drifted　unconscious　in　his　canoe　he　was　found　by　a　tribe　of　long…haired　women　who　nursed　him　back　to　health。　It　was　the　same　tribe　of　women　the　Spanish　explorer　Francisco　de　Orellana　had　discovered　during　his　futile　search　for　El　Dorado。　He　named　the　river　Amazonas　in　honor　of　the　Amazon　warriors　of　Greek　legend　because　the　native　women　could　draw　a　bow　with　any　man。
　　　　Cuttill　introduced　a　number　of　labor…saving　devices　to　the　women　and　the　few　men　who　lived　with　them。　He　built　a　potter's　wheel　and　taught　them　how　to　make　huge　intricate　bowls　and　water　vessels。　He　constructed　wheelbarrows　and　waterwheels　for　irrigation；　and　showed　them　how　to　use　pulleys　to　lift　heavy　weights。　Soon　looked　upon　as　a　god；　Cuttill　made　an　enjoyable　life　among　the　tribe。　He　took　three　of　the　most　attractive　women　as　wives　and　quickly　produced　several　children。
　　　　His　desire　to　see　home　again　slowly　dimmed。　A　bachelor　when　he　left　England；　he　was　sure　there　would　be　no　relatives　or　old　shipmates　left　to　greet　his　return。　And　then　there　was　the　possibility　that　Drake；　a　stern　disciplinarian；　would　demand　punishment　for　losing　the　Concepcion。
　　　　No　longer　physically　capable　of　suffering　the　deprivations　and　hardships　of　along　journey；　Cuttill　reluctantly　decided　to　spend　the　remaining　years　of　his　life　on　the　banks　of　the　Amazon。　When　the　Portuguese　survey　party　passed　through；　he　gave　them　his　journal；　requesting　that　it　be　somehow　sent　to　England　and　placed　in　the　hands　of　Francis　Drake。
　　　　After　Perlmutter　finished　reading　the　journal；　he　leaned　back　in　his　swivel　chair；　removed　his　glasses　and　rubbed　his　eyes。　Any　doubts　he　might　have　had　in　the　back　of　his　mind　about　the　authenticity　of　the　journal　had　quickly　evaporated。　The　writing　on　the　parchment　showed　strong；　bold　strokes；　hardly　the　work　of　a　madman　who　was　sick　and　dying。　Cuttill's　descriptions　did　not　seem　fabricated　or　embellished。　Perlmutter　felt　certain　the　experiences　and　hardships　suffered　by　Francis　Drake's　sailing　master　truly　occurred；　and　that　the　account　was　honestly　set　down　by　someone　who　lived　what　he　wrote。
　　　　Perlmutter　went　back　to　the　heart　of　his　quest；　Cuttill's　brief　mention　of　the　treasures　left　on　board　the　Concepcion　by　Drake。　He　resettled　his　glasses　on　his　imposing　red　nose　and　turned　to　the　final　entry　of　the　narrative：

Me　mind　is　as　set　as　a　stout　ship　before　a　narth　winde。　I　shalle　not　retarn　to　mye　homelande。　I　feare　Captaan　Drake　was　maddened　for　me　not　bringen　the　achant　tresures　and　the　jaade　boxe　withe　the　notted　stringe　to　England　soos　it　cud　be　preezentid　to　guude　Queen　Bess。　I　left　it　withe　the　wraaked　ship。　I　shalle　be　baryed　heer　among　the　peapol　who　have　becume　my　famly。　Writen　bye　the　hande　of　Thomas　Cuttill；　sailing　mastere　of　the　Golden　Hinde　this　unknown　day　in　the　yeare　1594

　　　　Perlmutter　slowly　looked　up　and　stared　at　a　seventeenth…century　Spanish　painting　on　his　wall；　depicting　a　fleet　of　Spanish　galleons　sailing　across　a　sea　under　the　golden　orange　glow　of　a　setting　sun。　He　had　found　it　in　a　bazaar　in　Segovia　and　took　it　home　for　a　tenth　of　its　real　value。　He　gently　closed　the　fragile　journal；　lifted　his　bulk　from　the　chair　and　began　to　pace　around　the　room；　hands　clasped　behind　his　back。
　　　　A　crewman　of　Francis　Drake　had　truly　lived　and　died　somewhere　along　the　Amazon　River。　A　Spanish　galleon　was　thrown　into　a　coastal　jungle　by　an　immense　tidal　wave。　And　a　jade　box　containing　a　knotted　cord　did　exist　at　one　time。　Could　it　still　lie　amid　the　rotting　timbers　of　the　galleon；　buried　deep　in　a　rain　forest？　A　four…hundred…year…old　mystery　had　suddenly　surfaced　from　the　shadows　of　time　and　revealed　an　enticing　clue。　Perlmutter　was　pleased　with　his　successful　investigative　effort；　but　he　well　knew　that　confirmation　of　the　myth　was　merely　the　first　enticing　step　in　a　hunt　for　treasure。
　　　　The　next　trick；　and　the　most　perplexing　one；　was　to　narrow　the　theater　of　search　to　as　small　a　stage　as　possible。

　　　　Hiram　Yaeger　adored　his　big　superputer　as　much　as　he　did　his　wife　and　children；　perhaps　more；　he　could　seldom　tear　himself　away　from　the　images　he　projected　on　his　giant　monitor　to　go　home　to　his　family。　puters　were　his　life　from　the　first　time　he　looked　at　the　screen　on　a　monitor　and　typed　out　a　mand。　The　love　affair　never　cooled。　If　anything　it　grew　more　passionate　with　the　passing　years；　especially　after　he　constructed　a　monster　unit　of　his　own　design　for　NUMA's　vast　oceans　data　center。　The　incredible　display　of　information…gathering　power　at　his　beck　and　call　never　ceased　to　astound　him。　He　caressed　the　keyboard　with　his　fingers　as　though　it　were　a　living　entity；　his　excitement　blossoming　whenever　bits　and　pieces　of　data　began　ing　together　to　form　a　solution。
　　　　Yaeger　was　hooked　into　a　vast　high…speed　puting　network　with　the　capacity　to　transfer　enormous　amounts　of　digital　data　between　libraries；　newspaper　morgues；　research　laboratories；　universities；　and　historic　archives　anywhere　in　the　world。　The　〃data　superhighway；〃　as　it　was　called；　could　transmit　billions　of　bits　of　information　in　the　blink　of　a　cursor。　By　tapping　into　the　gigabit　network；　Yaeger　began　retrieving　and　assembling　enough　data　to　enable　him　to　lay　out　a　search　grid　with　a　60　percent　probability　factor　of　containing　the　four…century…old　landlocked　galleon。
　　　　He　was　so　deeply　involved　with　the　search　for　the　Nuestra　Senora　de　la　Concepcion　that　he　did　not　notice　nor　hear　Admiral　James　Sandecker　step　into　his　sanctum　sanctorum　and　sit　down　in　a　chair　behind　him。
　　　　The　founder　and　first　director　of　NUMA　was　small　in　stature　but　filled　with　enough　testosterone　to　fuel　the　offensive　line　of　the　Dallas　Cowboys。　A　trim　fifty…eight；　and　a　fitness　addict；　he　ran　five　miles　every　morning　from　his　apartment　to　the　imposing　glass　building　that　housed　two　of　the　five　thousand　engineers；　scientists；　and　other　employees　that　formed　NUMA；　the　undersea　counterpart　of　the　space　agency　NASA。　His　head　was　covered　by　straight　flaming　red　hair；　graying　at　the　temples　and　parted　in　the　middle；　while　his　chin　bristled　with　a　magnificent　Vandyke　beard。　Despite　his　addiction　to　health　and　nutrition；　he　was　never　without　a　huge　cigar　made　from　tobacco　personally　selected　and　rolled　for　him　by　the　owner　of　a　plantation　in　Jamaica。
　　　　Under　his　direction　NUMA　had　taken　the　field　of　oceanography　and　made　it　as　popular　as　space　science。　His　persuasive　pleas　to　Congress　for　funding；　supported　by　twenty　top　universities　with　schools　in　the　marine　sciences　and　a　host　of　large　corporations　investing　in　underwater　projects；　had　enabled　NUMA　to　take；　great　strides　in　deep　sea　geology　and　mining；　marine　archaeology；　biological　studies　of　sea　life；　and　studies　of　the　effects　of　oceans　on　the　earth's　climate。　One　of　his　greatest　contributions；　perhaps；　was　supporting　Hiram　Yaeger's　huge　puter　network；　the　finest　and　largest　archive　of　ocean　sciences　in　the　world。
　　　　Sandecker　was　not　universally　admired　by　all　of　Washington's　bureaucracy；　but　he　was　respected　as　a　hard　driving；　dedicated；　and　honest　man；　and　his　relationship　with　the　man　in　the　Oval　Office　of　the　White