The Black Stallion and Flame (8 page)

“Yes, I’m sure you are.”

Alec looked out the window at the avenue of green
and gold coconut palms and gigantic bamboos, then at the high cane-clad hills above them. He had felt sick to his stomach for three days, ever since they’d landed on the beach south of Chestertown. His illness wasn’t the result of what they’d all gone through during the crash and afterward. It was the thought of never seeing his horse again that so curled up his insides he couldn’t eat or drink. He had to get over it, he told himself, otherwise he’d be no good to himself or anybody else. He had to search for the Black without panic and with confidence that it was only a question of time before finding him.

I’ve got to say he’s alive over and over again and mean it every time. He’s out there somewhere … if not on this island, then on another. If he was dead, I’d know it. I’d feel it every time my heart beats. I’m sure he’s alive and I’m going to find him. It’s just a matter of looking. If I believe that, I’m all right
.…

To forget his horse for a moment he concentrated on the narrow, winding asphalt road before them; it scraped the doorsteps of white and cream-colored clay houses and occasionally a patchwork of frame huts. These were the homes of the workers who tilled the cane fields.

Perspiration dripped from the police officer’s face onto his blue jacket. He glanced at the boy beside him, noting the serious expression on his face. “It’ll be cooler up in the hills where the breeze can reach us,” he said, smiling and showing very large white teeth.

Without taking his eyes off the road Alec asked, “Are there many islands in this area?”
How many would he have to search before he found the Black?

“Well, there’s a whole archipelago full if you count
everything that sticks out of the water,” the policeman said good-naturedly, still trying to get the boy to smile. “Our fishermen say you can’t sail to the west without sighting one landfall after another.”

The officer shifted to a lower gear as they climbed higher into the hills. “These islands are nothing but the tops of a long chain of submerged volcanic peaks, ringed by coral reefs. Just a bunch of toy lands strung together on a plate-glass sea, you might say.”

“Are most of them inhabited?” Alec asked.
If people got a look at the Black they’d recognize him for what he was, a very valuable horse. One person would tell another and another and another. Finally the news would reach him and he and the Black would be together again
.

“Many of them are as well populated as this one,” the policeman answered, “but there are some that are much too small and barren to support life for very long. Actually they’re nothing but shoals and islets.”

Alec turned away, not wanting to hear any more. He didn’t want to picture his horse in such a place.

Henry asked, “Is there any boat service between the islands?”

“Freighters, if you’re lucky enough to catch one going between the large islands. Then there are fishing boats and motor launches going between the smaller islands if you want to hire one. But there is no regular scheduled service if that’s what you mean.”

“And no planes?”

The policeman grinned broadly. “Not in this particular section of the archipelago. Our terrain is not suited for the cutting out of landing fields. Besides, most of us feel there is little need for such speedy transportation.”

Stopping the car, the officer reached out through
the open window to grab at a cluster of bananas hanging from a nearby tree. He handed one to Alec and one to Henry and then began peeling his own. They were high above the harbor if not many miles distant from it. Sounds carried clearly across the water and they could hear the shouting porters on the freighter and the straining noises made by the overburdened tenders.

“They have begun loading,” the police officer said, pointing with his banana at the ship. “It won’t be long before they leave us now.” He pointed seaward where a fishing boat with sails blown out like the wings of a great bird was coming into the harbor.

“Isn’t that a pretty sight?” he asked softly. “A little slow, perhaps, but beautiful … very beautiful and so very
quiet.
”

Alec’s eyes left the boat for the rainbow, which still hung faintly over the lush and fertile island. His gaze followed the arch to the point where it dipped into the distant sea. “Are there islands in that direction, too?” he asked. He was grasping at every ray of hope. Might not the rainbow be an omen, telling him where he might find his horse?

“To the northeast?” the police officer asked, following the boy’s gaze. “Yes, a few, but none of any size or consequence.”

They continued on and soon were climbing one line of hills after another. They passed many great plantation houses all perched high above the city and resplendent with their swimming pools and gardens. Fields of cane were everywhere and to Alec and Henry they looked like the rustling stalks of tall, straight corn to be seen in the Midwest at home. The only difference was that here towering royal palms fringed the fields
and beside them flowered hedges of red, pink and yellow hibiscus.

After another hour of driving the cultivated fields dropped behind and the road wound its way through jagged upland ravines.

“This is the only section of our island too rugged to cultivate,” the policeman explained.

“What’s that down there?” Henry asked suddenly.

Far below there was a dark, sloping patch of land, a solid mass of jungle green surrounded by mist.

“It’s an abandoned plantation,” the officer explained. “Nothing more at this time of year than fields of vast mangrove swamp. During the dry season most of it is parched and baked.”

Alec looked down upon the green walls of brush and jungle which seemed solid and almost impenetrable.

“Was the horse seen around here?” he asked.

“Yes, on the lower beach,” the officer answered.

Sand and sea bordered one end of the abandoned fields. There the breakers of the green and blue Caribbean reached an unbroken line of jungle that edged over the bright sand.

“Who reported him?” Henry asked. “You mean someone lives in that swamp?”

“Oh yes. We have our Experimental Stock Farm Station in the old plantation house, which you can’t see from here. It’s a branch of our Veterinary Public Health Service,” the officer explained.

“Then they were the ones who reported the horse?” Henry asked.

“Yes, after some farmers from the village just below reported seeing him on the beach.” The police officer
pointed to a small patch of farmland midway to the jungle. “That’s the village of Crane. Let’s find out if anyone has seen him since.”

The village was a mere huddle of palm huts among coconut trees. It was neither clean nor picturesque and there was squalor everywhere. Donkeys, children and chickens ran about in the dirt road, while adults squatted over piles of bananas, mangoes, limes and coconuts.

The police officer brought the car to a stop before one of the huts and the men there quickly gathered around him, jabbering so excitedly Alec had difficulty making out what was being said. However, the officer seemed to understand for he quickly left the car and went along with the men. Alec and Henry followed.

A black goat lay dead behind the hut. The policeman knelt down beside it, examining a small neck wound. Finally he looked up at the group and asked, “Did he die like the cow?”

A big man nodded vigorously, perspiration streaming down his face. “We prayed hard for him to get well but he died all the same. We’re being punished for some wrong we done. We’re being punished for sure.”

Turning back to the goat the police officer said, “Tie him to the side of my car and we’ll take him to the Experimental Station. Then we’ll know for sure.”

He stood up, straightening his jacket casually. But his eyes disclosed his great concern. “Last week they lost a cow the same way,” he stated to Alec and Henry.

“What way?” Henry asked.

“Paralytic rabies. We had her examined and found Negri bodies in the brain and spinal cord. So we’re sure.”

Alec and Henry said nothing. They were both well
aware of the consequences of rabies. It was a disease fatal to animals and humans.

The officer went on. “We believe we know, too, how she contracted it, for there was no mistaking the bite wound.”

“From a mad dog,” Henry guessed, “one you’ve already killed?”

“No, not a dog. And I’m afraid this carrier is still very much alive and active—”

“But he must be destroyed!” Henry interrupted urgently. “He’s capable of infecting human beings as well as animals!”

The police officer said gravely, patiently, “We’re well aware of that, sir. The problem of our Veterinary Public Health Service is to find him. He’s a winged carrier, one that unfortunately feeds on warm-blooded animals … 
a vampire bat.
”

Alec turned to look at the villagers’ palm huts, which were open to all winds, and at the shelters for animals that consisted only of a roof on four poles. None offered protection from such a deadly night marauder. And the Black—assuming he was in this locality—was no better off.

They drove down to the beach, their eyes going often to the lifeless black goat strapped to the right fender. There was no road beyond the village they had just left and they simply used the beach, for the tide was out and the sand firm. Stiff trade winds blew in from the ocean and shell-pink clouds studded the azure sky.

They passed a small group of brightly colored boats anchored a short distance offshore. The men on board waved to the police officer; he waved back but kept going, his face grim.

“We have never before had a vampire bat on Antago,” he said. “I believe he was transported from Trinidad in one of those fishing boats. The men go there frequently.”

“Are you sure they have vampires in Trinidad?” Henry asked.

“Yes, and not only there. The child of darkness has long been known to be a source of annoyance and fear
throughout South America … and in Central America and Mexico as well.”

“Child of darkness?” Alec repeated. “You call him that?”

The officer shrugged his shoulders. “When I lived in Trinidad he was called that very often, especially when he chose to sleep near highly populated centers. Some people took him as much for granted as a domesticated animal or”—he turned to the sea before finishing—“perhaps a rat is a better comparison.”

“Yet they knew he could carry disease?” Alec asked incredulously.

“So can rats,” the policeman answered quietly.

“But the vampire lives on the blood of his victims.”

“So does a horsefly, a mosquito or a tick.”

“You sound almost resigned,” Henry said grimly.

“Not at all, just realistic. You asked, you know, and I’m only doing my best to acquaint you with the facts which are well known to public health authorities in all tropical countries. You, of course, do not have such a problem in your temperate climate, where the vampire bat does not exist.”

“Thanks for that,” Henry said.

“He ranges from southern Brazil to southern Mexico. But until now I had never heard of any in the West Indies.”

Alec interrupted. “I’m certain I saw bats flying outside last night, lots of them.”

“We have many other species, of course, but they are harmless, eating only fruit and insects. There’s one species, too, that I’ve seen fishing with the pelicans and terns.”

“Then the vampire bat is the black sheep of the tribe,” Henry said thoughtfully.

“I suppose you can call him that,” the police officer said, nodding his big head. “There’s no doubt that he will attack any animals loose in fields or tethered in open stalls. He’ll go after fowl asleep in roosts, too.”

“And humans?” Alec asked.

“Only when he can’t get the food he needs from animals and poultry,” the officer answered gravely.

Henry’s eyes swept the steaming jungle close to the beach road. “And since he must bite in order to feed, it’s easy for him to transmit disease … in this case one of the deadliest of all, rabies.”

The policeman nodded. “Don’t forget, too, that’s probably the way he became infected, by biting diseased livestock in Trinidad.”

Alec shifted uneasily in his seat. He said, “And by means of flight it’s easy for him to spread infection.”

Again the policeman nodded. “I’ve seen them winging their way across the open sea between Trinidad and the South American mainland, a distance of twelve miles. But usually unless there’s a mass migration they stay close to their sleeping places, located mostly in mountains and forests. However, like rats they are apt to be transported through sloops and other vessels plying between the islands. It’s a wonder we haven’t had this problem before.”

“Why do you think there’s only
one
vampire bat here? Couldn’t there be many more?” Alec asked.

“Probably, but I doubt it. There have been so few victims, only the cow and now this goat.…”

“No people? You’re sure?” Alec asked, remembering the open huts.

“Examination of the villagers has disclosed no characteristic bites of the vampire.”

Alec cast another glance at the dense green jungle, thinking of all the horrible stories he’d read about the vampire bat. “Is he a very big bat?” he asked.

“No, he’s not. His wingspread usually isn’t more than a foot and he has a very short body like a mouse. In fact he looks very much like a mouse with wings, being gray or reddish-brown in color. Yet in flight he’s as agile and graceful as a swallow.”

Alec shuddered at the comparison. “Is it true they use their wings to fan a victim to sleep before biting him so nothing will be felt?”

“No, that’s purely an imaginative story.”

“Just his being a bloodsucker is bad enough for me,” Henry said grimly.

“He does not suck blood,” the policeman corrected. “He simply makes a small, oval-shaped, superficial wound and laps the blood that wells.”

“You’re quite an authority on him,” Henry said almost disgustedly.

“Perhaps, for we have to accept such problems here in the tropics. Our veterinary surgeon knows more about the matter than anyone else. It’s his responsibility to catch the vampire and check the spread of the disease.”