Indiana Jones and the White Witch by Martin Caidin

Author:Martin Caidin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Indiana Jones
Published: 2013-03-27T16:00:00+00:00

12

The force of the rain lashing the deck of the cross-channel cargo ferry stung Indy's face. He turned to one side, pulling his battered hat over his face, and was rewarded by a sudden spray of icy salt water thrown up by the steamer's bow as it plunged almost beneath the surface. He stared at the dim glow of yellow light from the cabin; Gale stood facing the wind and rain, reveling in the ferocity of the storm.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Indy shouted above the howl of wind, the pounding of water, and the steamer's engines. Every few moments the entire ship shuddered, as if it was coming apart at the seams.

Gale turned, also shouting. "It's wonderful!" she exclaimed, as delighted as a child seeing open water for the first time.

"You're nuts!" Indy retorted. His stomach growled; he felt as if cotton had been stuffed inside his head. He gripped a stanchion for support as the steamer rolled sickeningly to one side. Looking up at the cabin, he caught a glimpse of Treadwell behind a window, seated comfortably, legs locked around his chair for support, enjoying his pipe.

Indy worked his way carefully along the narrow passageway, salt water sloshing about his feet. He pushed in the door, reeling for balance as it swung away. Treadwell and the ferry crew watched with amusement as Indy slammed the door and collapsed in a seat, water streaming from his clothes.

"Remind me," he said with a snarl, "if I ever get out of this crazy trip alive, to kill you with my bare hands."

Treadwell saluted him with a wave of his pipe. "This your first touch of the sailor's life? A sailing ship is a true wonder, Professor."

"This isn't a sailing ship," Indy growled, hanging on to the seat arms as the ferry wallowed like a water buffalo sinking in quicksand. "It's a junk heap. Should have been scrapped years ago, or sunk before it got out of harbor."

"'Ere now!" Bjorn McManus said loudy. "It's me charmer you're talking about, mate!"

"You're calling this roach palace a charmer?" Indy sneered. He wasn't in the mood for pleasantries. The planned flight from England to Paris went up in smoke when they were ready to depart his flat. No one had bothered to check the weather and they stepped outside just as a storm moved across their part of the city. Rushing back inside, Treadwell called the big commercial field at the edge of London. "We're down," came the explanation. "Sorry, guv. Front's come in with nary warning. We've checked across the water. Same in France."

That meant crossing a very turbulent English Channel. Even the commercial ferries were canceling their scheduled trips. It took the clout of Scotland Yard to roust Bjorn McManus from a warm bed and gather his crew to take Indy and Gale to Cherbourg.

As they departed the dock in London beneath low, swift-moving clouds and steady rain, Treadwell had explained the weather situation. "There won't be any flying on the mainland, either, I'm afraid.

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