The Black Stallion Returns Read online

  “Naw, I didn’t even wake the missus,” and Henry smiled. “ ’Fraid she’d change her mind at the last minute. Better to go hungry.”

  Mr. Volence was busy and told them he’d join them in a few minutes. Henry and Alec made their way to the table where the other passengers were having breakfast. To Alec they all looked as though they were accustomed to transatlantic travel. Most of them were casually reading the morning papers, patiently waiting for the time to embark.

  Alec was too excited to eat anything, but Henry had two orders of ham and eggs. “Nothin’ like a full stomach.” He grinned.

  “Sure, nothin’ like it,” Alec agreed, glancing out the window at the great silver bird he’d soon be on. The morning sun reflected from its hull and shone in his eyes. He turned back to Henry. “You never told me how you managed to get away, Henry. Did you have much trouble?”

  Henry answered between mouthfuls. “A little. She couldn’t see it at first, but then I told her I’d bring her back a lot of ivory … she’s crazy about ivory … has all sorts of trinkets around the house.”

  “But, Henry, there isn’t much ivory in Arabia.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “Well,” Henry said after a pause, “I’ll just have to get some somewhere.” He swallowed his coffee. “Anyway, her sister from the Ozarks is gonna spend the summer with us, same as she did last year and the year before, and she always sleeps in my bed. So it’s just as well that I’m not around.”

  Mr. Volence arrived and sat down with them. “I’ll just have a cup of coffee,” he said, “I’ve had breakfast.” He glanced at the clock. “… almost time,” he added.

  “Is that the crew over there?” Alec asked, nodding toward a table in one corner of the room at which a group of men, wearing dark blue uniforms, was seated.

  “Yes, it is,” Mr. Volence replied.

  “Gee, it’s a big crew,” Alec said. “There are twelve.”

  “It takes a good many men to handle these babies.”

  A bell rang twice and Alec saw the crew leave their table and walk toward the door. He rose from his seat. Why weren’t the others getting up? They’d be late.

  “Sit down, Alec,” and Mr. Volence smiled, “the next bell will be ours. The crew has to warm the ship up a bit before we take over.”

  Alec watched the crew as they went down the long runway, and onto the ramp that led to the plane. They marched in a column of twos.

  “That’s the captain and the first officer up front, Alec,” Mr. Volence told him.

  “There are almost as many crew members as there are passengers,” Henry commented.

  A few minutes later there was a loud roar as the four engines were started. The propellers whirled in the sun and Alec felt a tingling sensation go over him. He glanced at the clock … just a few minutes more. He thought of his mother and father on the upper observation deck waiting for him to depart from the building and board the ship. He wondered if they felt the same as he did.

  Five minutes passed, and then the roar of the engines rose to a higher pitch. Still there was no signal for the passengers to board. Alec became a little panicky. Supposing something was wrong with one of the engines and they didn’t go! Then the bell rang again. “That’s us!” he shouted. He rose to his feet so hastily that he tipped the long table, upsetting a cup of coffee into a matronly woman’s lap. Sputtering an apology, he ran for the door, closely followed by Mr. Volence, Henry and the other passengers.

  They walked down the runway and onto the ramp. Turning, Alec looked up at the observation deck of the Administration Building. “Look!” he shouted. “There’s Mother and Dad.” Alec and Henry waved.

  “Have a good trip,” Alec’s father called. His mother waved a small handkerchief.

  “So long!” Alec yelled above the roar of the plane’s engines.

  They were alongside the Flying Clipper now and some of the passengers had already boarded the ship. She strained the steel cables that held her to the ramp, as though impatient to be in flight.

  Alec took one final look at his parents, waved again, and then climbed down the passageway, followed by Henry and Mr. Volence.

  Inside, Alec was amazed to find how spacious the plane was. The steward showed them to their compartment, and Mr. Volence told Alec to sit by the large porthole. Henry took the seat opposite Alec and Mr. Volence sat down beside him.

  They were on the opposite side of the ramp, so Alec was not able to see the Administration Building or his mother and father. “You’ll be able to see them when we taxi out of the bay into the channel,” Mr. Volence assured him.

  The plane’s engines slowed to idling speed, and the steward returned and helped them fasten their seat belts. “We’ll be taking off in a few minutes,” he told them. “We’re waiting for one more passenger who is to occupy this space.” He nodded to the empty seat beside Alec.

  “I was of the opinion the Flying Clipper didn’t wait for anyone.” Mr. Volence smiled.

  The steward snapped Alec’s seat belt. “We don’t usually,” he replied, “… but we’ve had orders to wait. He’ll be here in a few minutes. He’s in the customs office now.”

  Alec looked out the window across the dark waters of the bay. A little to the right he could see La Guardia Airport and the commercial airline planes taking off. He and his father had spent many a Sunday afternoon there and once they had flown from La Guardia to Florida to spend the Christmas vacation with his mother’s sister. Only once, though, had he been lucky enough to catch a flying boat taking off from the bay bound on a long journey across the ocean. He’d never forget that great silver bird streaking down the channel, leaving a white, rolling wake behind.

  “I believe this seat is mine?” a voice with a decidedly foreign accent asked. Alec turned and stared at the man standing in the aisle. He was a short man with tremendous shoulders and a bull neck. His face, so dark that it was almost black, was round and deeply furrowed. Small gray eyes squinted from sunken black pits that wrinkled at the corners as though he had spent much time in the bright sun.

  He had removed his hat and was wiping his bald head with a purple handkerchief. It was then that Alec noticed the left sleeve hanging empty beside him. Alec felt a surge of pity go through him. Instinctively he had taken a dislike to the man’s looks, but the thought of going through life with only one arm made him feel sorry for him. He jumped to his feet and removed the newspapers and magazines that he had left on the unoccupied seat. “Here, sir,” he said, moving closer to the window to give the stranger more room.

  Nodding, the man carefully lowered his heavy body into the seat. After he had settled himself he looked directly at Mr. Volence and said, “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Ibn al Khaldun.” He smiled and his mouth was toothless.

  Mr. Volence acknowledged the introduction and then presented Henry and Alec. When Alec grasped the pudgy hand he found it cold and clammy.

  The plane’s engines were revved up and Alec heard the men on the ramp removing the cables which held the ship. Forgetting the stranger beside him, he said to Henry excitedly, “This is it!” Then he pushed his face up against the window.

  As the plane began to move, the steward said, “Please make certain all seat belts are securely fastened.” Alec checked his, and then noticed that Ibn al Khaldun was attempting to fasten his belt with one hand. “Here, sir,” he said, “let me help you.”

  Perspiration ran down in rivulets on the man’s fat face. “Thank you, no,” and he grinned. “It isn’t necessary. You see, one gets accustomed to accomplishing many feats with one hand … when he has only one.” Snapping the belt, he leaned back in the seat, and closed his eyes.

  The silver plane taxied away from the ramp, and Alec was able to see his mother and father still standing on the observation deck. He waved, but realized they weren’t able to see him. The plane turned and headed across the bay toward the channel. As the figures of his parents faded from view, Alec felt a wave of homesickness co
me over him. He watched the water swish by and thought how much he’d miss his mother and father.

  The sudden splash of mounting water against the window startled Alec. The plane’s engines had risen to a mighty roar. Suddenly he realized that they were in the channel and taking off! Alec watched the landscape on the other side of the water speed past with lightning swiftness. Faster and faster they went until white foam completely blocked his vision and he could no longer see even the large wing or pontoon.

  Mr. Volence watched Alec’s tense face and smiled. “It’ll be clear in a few minutes,” he assured him. “The steward told me that we have a capacity load and that requires a long run. Remember, too, that a baby like this carries around four thousand gallons of gas.”

  “Gee, it’s a wonder they ever get off,” Alec said, watching the water cascade down the window. “It’s like being under a waterfall.”

  The engines roared to a new, higher pitch and suddenly the window cleared. Alec watched as the silver hull broke away from the water. “We’re off!” he yelled. The fat figure of Ibn al Khaldun stirred at the sound of Alec’s voice. His beady eyes opened, turned toward Alec, and then closed again.

  The plane began a gradual ascent. Below, Alec could see the Administration Building, La Guardia Airport, and not far away, Flushing. He looked for his house and found it. The plane circled and then headed out over Long Island and toward the sea, its silver wings shining in the early morning sun.

  The next few hours passed quickly, and before Alec knew it the steward was serving lunch. They were well out of sight of land and headed south for their first stop which, he had been told by Mr. Volence, would be Port of Spain, Trinidad. They would spend the night there and the next day take off for Natal, Brazil, the last stop before they flew over the Atlantic to Africa.

  Alec looked across at Henry, and knew from the intense expression on his face that he was enjoying the trip as much as he. Mr. Volence was busy eating his cold ham and potato salad while attempting to read his magazine. Ibn al Khaldun had not desired any lunch and was again sleeping. Deep, guttural snores escaped from his throat. Alec finished eating and turned to the window.

  They were over the Gulf Stream and the water was a deep azure blue. Soft wisps of clouds passed between them and the ocean below, and the steady hum of the engines made Alec sleepy. He looked forward at the two propellers on his side flashing in the sun, and the long wing extending far out to one side. He closed his eyes and let his head rest against the back of his seat. A few minutes later he was asleep.

  The sun was low over the water when he awakened. Sleepily, he opened his eyes and found Henry and Mr. Volence smiling at him.

  “Good nap?” Mr. Volence inquired.

  “Gee, yes,” Alec replied. “It must have been a long one, too!”

  Henry snorted. “It surely was. Say, maybe about three hours.”

  Alec looked out the window and, glancing down, saw small submerged beds of coral under the water. “Coral reefs,” he said. “We must be pretty far south. Do you know about where, Mr. Volence?”

  “No, but we can ask the steward. He’ll know.” He called the steward over and was told that they were only a half-hour away from Port of Spain.

  “We should be able to see the coastline in a few minutes then,” Mr. Volence told them.

  “That’s pretty good traveling,” Alec said. “Breakfast in New York and dinner in South America.”

  The steward smiled. “Scheduled flying time is eleven hours and we usually hit it right on the button,” he said. “It’s from Port of Spain to Natal that the trip’s the toughest. We’ll buck head winds all the way tomorrow.”

  “Will we leave pretty early in the morning?” Alec asked.

  “Six o’clock. If we’re lucky we’ll make Natal in about fifteen hours, which means about nine at night. The following day we hop the Atlantic to a place called Fish Lake in Liberia. Ever hear of it?”

  “No,” Alec answered, “but it sounds interesting.” He paused a moment. “Say,” he continued, “you mentioned that we land at Natal at nine … that is, if we’re lucky … and it should be dark by that time. Can you land these ships at night without any trouble?”

  “We usually manage.” The steward smiled. “Of course our pilot has to be careful not to hit any crocodiles or floating logs, but other than that there’s nothing to it. You’ll see how he does it when we come into Natal tomorrow night.” His eyes shifted to the window. “There’s the northern coast of Trinidad now. It’ll only be a matter of minutes before we’re at our base. Better put a few things in your overnight bag.” He put his hand on Ibn al Khaldun’s shoulder and shook him gently. The Arab’s eyes opened quickly. “Port of Spain, sir,” the steward told him. Sluggishly Ibn al Khaldun straightened in his seat. He dismissed the steward with a quick jerk of his hand.

  Alec felt his dislike for this man grow more and more intense. It was obvious that he did not want to talk to them, and Alec had no intention of encouraging conversation. Ibn al Khaldun zipped his overnight bag shut and then stared vacantly over Mr. Volence’s head, ignoring them all.

  Alec turned to the window again. They were only a short distance away from the coast and the plane was gradually descending. The pressure in his eardrums increased and he felt a twinge of pain. He chewed his gum vigorously to relieve the pressure.

  “Try swallowing a few times, Alec,” Mr. Volence advised.

  A few minutes later they were over the beach and following a small river that wound its way back toward towering cliffs. Alec wondered why the pilot was flying so low … too low to make the cliffs ahead. Then he saw the opening through which the river passed, and the large bay beyond. The plane swooped through the break in the cliffs and swiftly descended toward the water. As the silver hull creased the bay, sheets of white foam again covered the window. Gradually, as the ship slowed, the window became clear and Alec could see the pier toward which they were taxiing. A short distance beyond was a low rambling building perched on many long poles, giving it the appearance of a giant centipede.

  A little later, after having passed through customs, they were speeding toward the town of Port of Spain. The airline had provided two cars to take the passengers to the hotel and Alec was glad to note that Ibn al Khaldun was not in theirs. “He certainly is an unpleasant guy to have around,” he commented to Henry.

  “Yeah, he’s not what you’d call sociable,” agreed Henry. “Tried to make conversation with him back there, but he wouldn’t have much of it.” He paused for a moment, pondered and then continued, “Funny, though, come to think of it. He knew an awful lot about me and the horses I’ve trained; he opened up a little when I mentioned Chang and the Derby back in ’32. He said he thought Prince Pat, the young colt I told you about who fell in his second race and had to be done away with, was a better horse than Chang and the fastest horse I’d ever had. Funny thing about that is I thought so, too, but never mentioned it; furthermore, very few people ever heard of Prince Pat as I hadn’t had him ready for big racing at the time of his accident. These Arabs are sure peculiar people.”

  Early the next morning they were on their way again. Ibn al Khaldun, who the steward told them was also going to Arabia, had changed his seat for one nearer the front of the plane, claiming that riding near the tail made him ill. “Good riddance,” muttered Alec to himself.

  Hour after hour the silver plane bucked the strong head winds which swept north up the coast of South America. They flew over dense green jungle country and Alec, looking down, wondered how they’d ever be found if the engines failed and they had to land. It was dark, unexplored country, alive with many terrors.

  The sun passed overhead and descended rapidly in the west. Glancing at his watch, Alec found that it was after seven and realized that soon it would be dark. He looked ahead, hoping to see Natal, although he realized that they were not scheduled to arrive until after nine o’clock. Only a greenish-black carpet extended to the horizon. He let his head fall back on his seat and thoug
ht about Ibn al Khaldun. Funny he should know so much about Henry and American racehorses. Still, since he was an Arab, it was in all probability only natural that he should take an interest in American racing. He was an odd guy. Repulsive-looking, too, with his bald head and swarthy, fat face. Alec’s conscience bothered him as he remembered Ibn al Khaldun’s empty sleeve. It was tough to go through life handicapped that way. Perhaps he was mistaken about him. Perhaps it was just a case of not knowing him well enough. Still, there was something.…

  The plane flew on, and eventually Alec’s thoughts turned from Ibn al Khaldun to the Black and the search ahead. Would they be lucky enough to locate the kingdom of Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak? He repeated the name of the Black’s owner again … Abu Ja‘ Kub ben Ishak. It was important that he remember that name; he had said it over and over again since Abu had departed with the Black. That was the only clue they had to the stallion’s whereabouts; that, and the knowledge that Abu lived in the least explored district of Arabia, the Kharj district, far to the east across the Great Central Desert. It wasn’t much. Alec closed his eyes and thought about his horse.

  The steward awakened Alec sometime later. “You were interested in night landings yesterday,” he said. “It’ll only be a few minutes. You can see the lights of Natal just ahead.”

  Sleepily, Alec flattened his nose against the window. It was very dark and they were quite low. Below he could just make out a long, winding river which they were following. He turned toward Henry and Mr. Volence and noticed that they were fastening their seat belts. Drawing his own tightly about him, he said, “This is going to be good. How in the devil will he be able to see? That’s a river, isn’t it? Is he going to land in it?”

  “That’s the Rio Grande do Norte,” Mr. Volence explained. “The base is on it, and if you look a few miles ahead you’ll be able to see the landing lights which will guide the pilot in making his landing.”

  Alec again turned to the window. Ahead, as Mr. Volence had said, was a string of lights on the river. There were seven groups of them and each group was a small, circular glowing ring. The one nearest the plane was red, but all the others were green. “The pilot will land alongside them,” Mr. Volence explained, “just to the right. Watch.”