He lifted his knife close up to his eyes and carefully examined the blade. He leant against the cool face of rock and waited for his breathing to get back to normal. All he needed was an ounce of hope, an ounce of reassurance that it was still worth while trying to stay alive.īond took one long comprehensive look and pulled back. Only, with Bond, the two halves were not yet dead. Bond was like a cut worm, the two halves of which continue to jerk forward although life has gone and been replaced by the mock life of nervous impulses. It moved alongside his body, or floated above it, keeping enough contact to pull the strings that made the puppet work. The thinking, feeling apparatus of Bond was no longer part of his body. The stinking, bleeding, black scarecrow moved its arms and legs quite automatically. Apart from aiming the canvas mouth of the conveyor, there was nothing else for anyone to do. On the other side of the mountain men would be working, feeding the guano to the conveyor-belt that rumbled away through the bowels of the rock, but on this side no one was allowed and no one was necessary. There was no other sound, no other movement, no other life apart from the watch at the ship's wheel, the trusty working at the crane, and Doctor No, seeing that all went well. The morning breeze feathered the deep-water anchorage, still half in shadow beneath the towering cliffs, the' conveyor-belt thudded quietly on its rollers, the crane's engine chuffed rhythmically. Should he chance it? He must Get movingīond let his whole body slip down the ladder of wire and lunged through and down with all his force. It was black, impenetrable, as deep as the rest.
He gazed vaguely at the softly heaving sheen of water. Slowly he let himself down to the bottom rung of wire. A voice called out, startlingly close, "Okay to go?" There was a distant answer: "Okay." The crane engine accelerated.
Bond crept softly forward, watching his footholds for loose stones. Round the bead, the track filtered through a maze of giant, tumbled boulders. Bond, leaving drops of blood behind him, picked his way carefully down the track and along the bottom of the shadowed cliff.
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