“So long, Alec,” he replied, “and good luck!”
“So long, Pat.”
Alec led the Black to the other end of the dock. A group of horses were gathered in one corner waiting their turn to be loaded. Dockhands rushed back and forth. A mixture of cattle and fruit smells filled the air.
The Black reared, and the other horses shrilled in fright as they saw him. Alec took the stallion to a far corner. His ears were pitched forward, his eyes glared masterfully over the others.
“Reminds you of the old days, doesn’t it, fella?” said Alec. He smiled, wondered what his mother and dad would say when they saw the Black. He was glad now they had moved out from the city last year to Flushing, one of New York’s suburbs. He was sure he would be able to find a place near his home where he could keep the Black, providing his mother and dad would let him!
Suddenly the Black screamed loudly and Alec felt him tremble. An answering scream filled the air. The other horses shoved each other in confusion. Alec saw a chestnut stallion being led toward the dock. He was big, almost as big as the Black.
The men leading him stopped on the farther side of the dock. Alec was thankful that he wasn’t going to be loaded on the same boat with the Black. The black stallion pulled restlessly at his rope, his head high in the air, his eyes never leaving the chestnut.
The man holding him was having his troubles, too. The chestnut rose in the air. The Black screamed and pulled harder on the rope. The other horses began to neigh loudly. Alec tried to quiet the Black, but he could see that something wild and instinctive was rising within him. He remembered the stories that his uncle had told him about the tribes of wild horses—how one stallion alone was king!
“Whoa, Boy—take it easy,” he said. The stallion was snorting, one leg pawed into the wood, his ears were flat back against his head. The chestnut’s whistle rose loud and clear. Alec saw him rise into the air. There were yells and shouts from the sailors. Then he saw the man holding the chestnut fall to the ground, and the stallion was loose!
The Black reared on his hind legs, and his scream was terrorizing. Alec knew now that he could not hold him. The rope was jerked from his hands.
The chestnut and the Black rushed toward each other, their thunderous hoofs shaking the boards. The distance between the two closed rapidly, and then they clashed! High in the air they rose on their hind legs, their forelegs, pawing, striking madly at each other. Teeth bared, they lunged at each other’s throats. The Black got a hold on the chestnut and savagely hung on. Furiously they kicked, their manes whipping in the air. The chestnut broke the Black’s hold, and for a minute they squared off; then they were lunging at each other again.
Alec couldn’t look—couldn’t look away. Sounds of hoofs striking bodies, and squeals of terror from the other horses mingled with the screams of the two savages who fought for supremacy. The Black shrieked—louder than Alec had ever heard him before. His strength and experience were slowly overpowering the chestnut. His striking hoofs swept the chestnut stallion off his feet, and he fell to the dock. The Black went high in the air and his hoofs came down on top of him. Alec closed his eyes. A moment later the Black’s scream again came to his ears.
He saw the Black standing over the chestnut, his eyes blazing, his body streaked with blood and with lather. What would he do next?
The Black’s head turned toward the group of horses gathered in the corner. Majestically he strode toward them. They neighed nervously, but none moved. Slowly the black stallion walked around them—his eyes piercing, triumphant.
Alec followed him. He heard voices yelling at him, “Keep away, boy, keep away till he calms down!” But he kept walking. The Black turned and saw him.
The stallion stopped still. Alec came closer. The huge black body was torn and bleeding, but his head was high, his mane flowing. Alec watched his eyes—he had learned much from the stallion’s eyes. He saw a little of the wildness leave them. His nostrils stopped trembling. Alec spoke to him softly.
A minute passed, then another. He picked up the rope, still attached to the Black’s halter. He drew up the slack and then pulled gently. The stallion’s head turned toward him. He hesitated a moment, and then turned back to the other horses. Alec waited patiently while the stallion surveyed his newly acquired band. Then he looked again at Alec. It seemed to Alec as if he was trying to make up his mind between them. He took a few more steps toward the horses—then he turned and walked quietly toward the boy.
Shouts of astonishment broke out among the sailors. Alec attempted to lead the stallion toward the gangplank. The Black stopped and turned his head once again toward the horses. For a minute he gazed at them. The ship’s whistle blew. Alec pulled a little harder. “Come on, Black,” he said. Another minute passed, and then the stallion turned again.
The sailors fell away as they approached. When they reached the gangplank, Alec looked over his shoulder and saw a crowd gathering around the chestnut, who was slowly climbing to his feet. The man was running his hands over the horse’s legs. Then he walked him—the chestnut seemed to be all right. Alec was glad—for even though the chestnut had started the fight, it might have meant staying behind if the Black had hurt him seriously.
Up the plank they went—onto the ship. One sailor, more courageous than the rest, called to Alec, “Follow me, kid—down this way!” He led the way to a box stall, and then moved a safe distance away.
Alec led the Black into the stall, took off the halter, and spread the bedding around. He filled a pail full of water. The sailor brought him the antiseptic he’d asked for. He was young, not much older than Alec, and his face was filled with wonder. “I never in my life saw anything like that,” he said.
“Neither did I,” answered Alec. He felt the Black’s legs and sides. “It would be swell if you could get me some clean cloths,” he said. “I have to be careful of these cuts.”
“Sure thing!” the sailor answered. “We’re shoving off in a few minutes, but I’ll be back with ’em as soon as I can.”
HOME
7
Alec heard the ship’s whistle give three short blasts. The last horse came into the hold, shying nervously as he passed the Black’s stall. The stallion reached his great head out over the door, his ears pricked forward, and his eyes moving from stall to stall.
The boat trembled as the engines began to turn over. Alec bent down to wet the cloth in his hand. “It won’t be long now,” he thought. Carefully he cleaned a deep cut in the Black’s side where the chestnut had kicked him. He felt the stallion quiver as the antiseptic entered the wound. He was so big and powerful. Would he prove too much for Alec to handle? And what would his mother and father say when they saw him? He had thought of a place to keep him. Two blocks from their house in Flushing was an old run-down estate. The large, brown house was now being used to accommodate tourists. But in the rear was an old barn, badly in need of repair, and an acre of ground. It would be an ideal place to stable the Black. If only his parents would let him keep the stallion, he would fix up the barn himself, and find work after school to pay for his feed.
Alec finished his work, and the Black turned his head. “Had a pretty tough day, haven’t you, fella?” The stallion shook his head, and shoved his nose against the boy’s chest, pushing him back against the wall. Alec laughed and picked up the pail and cloths.
He shut the door of the stall behind him. The stallion’s nostrils quivered; his eyes followed Alec as he backed slowly away. “Take it easy now, Boy,” he said. “I have to see what my own bunk looks like!”
The Black screamed as Alec began to climb the stairs. There was a loud crash as the stallion’s hoofs went through the side of the stall. Alec rushed back. “Easy, Boy,” he said. “Easy.” The Black shoved his nose toward him, and he placed his hand upon the tender skin.
Grooms from the other stalls came running toward them. “Everything all right?” one asked.
“Yes,” answered Alec. “He’s still excited.”
> “He’s a mean one, he is! You’ll have to watch him!”
“He just doesn’t like to be left alone,” said Alec, “so I guess I’ll stick around.”
The grooms went back to their jobs. Alec looked at the stallion. “Black,” he said, “you’re something!” He went around to the side of the stall and pushed the broken board back into place. He looked around the hold, and noticed that the grooms had opened cots and were placing them beside the stalls. Alec found one and did the same. “Looks as though I’m going to bunk down here whether I like it or not,” he said.
Alec tossed on his cot that night, as the ship plowed through heavy, pitching seas. Every wave seemed destined to send him rolling off his bed. The horses were finding it difficult, too, and their poundings made the hold a bedlam. Alec could hear the Black pawing at the floor of his stall.
It was still rough the next morning, and continued to be rough throughout the day. The horses began to get sick and the grooms were kept busy. Only the Black remained well. He still held his head as high as ever, and moved gingerly about in his stall.
Night fell and the ocean became wilder. Bolts of lightning flashed in the sky and a gale whistled outside. Alec thought of the Drake and the storm that had sent it down to the bottom. He rose from his cot and went to the stall door. The Black was awake, and pushed his nose toward the boy.
“Not frightened, are you, fella?” A streak of lightning made the hold as bright as day, and there was a loud crack as it struck the water. The ship quivered. Alec’s fingers tightened on the Black’s mane. Again darkness, and the ship lurched forward. The engines throbbed and once more took up their steady chant.
The Black’s eyes were moving about restlessly. He shook his head and his foreleg pawed into the bedding of the stall. Alec couldn’t blame him for being frightened. He reached in his pocket for some sugar and held it out to the stallion. The Black moved away and pounded harder than ever.
The ship staggered as a wave crashed against it. The grooms were rising from their cots, awakened by the storm. The other horses were quiet—most of them too sick to cause any trouble. Alec was afraid the Black would get out of control. He opened the door and went inside. The stallion backed into a corner. Alec held out the sugar. “Easy, Boy,” he said. The Black’s head was high in the air. He stopped his pounding as Alec put a hand on his neck. He reached down for the sugar. “That’s a good fella!” said Alec. Slowly the Black quieted under his hand.
Hours passed and dawn broke in the sky. The wind lessened and a torrent of rain poured down. One of the grooms came over to the Black’s stall. “Isn’t he sick at all?” he asked.
“A little,” Alec answered, “but mostly he’s just nervous, though.”
The man looked at the Black admiringly. “He certainly must have an iron constitution to go through seas like this without being sick. He’s the only animal on board that isn’t!”
Later in the day Alec began to feel queasy in his stomach. Desperately he fought against it. At last he had to admit that he was seasick. “Guess you’re a better man than I am, Black,” he said.
The next few days Alec didn’t care whether he lived or died. Most of the grooms were sick, too, so they didn’t pay much attention to him. The ship’s first mate, who acted as doctor on the ship, came down, and tried to make him go to his cabin, but sick as he was, he realized that he couldn’t leave the Black.
Three mornings later, Alec weakly rose to his feet and walked up to the stallion. The ship had stopped rolling. “Hello, Boy,” he said. “I see you’re as spry as ever!” The stallion’s ears pricked forward and he shook his head.
A groom came up. “How d’you feel, kid?” he asked.
“A little weak,” Alec said, “but otherwise okay.” He paused. “How much longer before we reach New York?”
“About two more days,” the groom answered, “unless we run into some more rough weather—but I think we’ve had our share of it.”
“I hope so,” Alec said—and he meant it.
Two days later the ship’s whistle blew for Quarantine, where the boat was to be inspected before passing into New York harbor. The Quarantine inspectors entered the hold and went from stall to stall, examining the horses. Alec noticed that each groom produced papers and showed them to the officer in charge. What would he do when they came to him? Perhaps it would be better if he went over now and explained why he didn’t have any. Alec started toward the officer. Suddenly the Black’s scream stopped him in his tracks. He turned and saw that one of the inspectors had crossed the hold and was opening the stallion’s door. “Watch out!” shouted Alec, but he was too late. The Black reared and struck out with his front feet, striking the man and sending him flying against the door.
Alec rushed to the stall and flung himself between the stallion and the inspector. Desperately he grabbed the halter. The Black’s frightened eyes never left the man on the floor. The inspector, spluttering angrily, climbed to his feet. Alec felt relieved; if he was angry, he couldn’t be hurt very badly. His trouser was ripped where the Black had struck him, but there were no other signs of injury.
The other inspectors came running. “What’s the matter here?” asked the officer in charge.
“This horse attacked me, sir!” said the man. “He’s a dangerous animal.”
The officer walked closer to the door. “What have you to say about it?” he asked Alec, who was tightly holding the Black’s halter.
Alec looked at the tall, sharp-featured man, and wondered whether the officer could prevent the Black from entering the country. He felt sick at the thought. They just couldn’t do that. He met the officer’s eyes. “I’m sorry about what happened, sir, and I know he wouldn’t have done what he did if your inspector hadn’t entered the stall like that. You see, he isn’t used to people, sir. No one has ever been near him except me.”
The officer’s eyes traveled over the stallion. Then he walked toward the door and went inside. Alec took a firmer grip on the halter. “It’s all right, Black,” he said. “Whoa, Boy.” The stallion moved uneasily.
The officer walked slowly around him. “He’s quite a horse. Is he yours?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” answered Alec.
“Are your papers all in order?”
“I haven’t any, sir, but the captain told me it would be all right. We were in a shipwreck and—”
“Oh, you’re the one,” interrupted the officer. “We’ve received orders about you. You’re to go through.” He smiled. “You’ve certainly had a tough enough trip as it is without our making it any tougher.” He turned to the inspector, who had his trouser rolled up and was washing his leg. “How’s the leg, Sandy?” he asked.
“It’s okay, I guess, sir—but that horse is the wildest one I’ve seen around here in fourteen years!” he answered.
“And I think the best, too!” The officer smiled. He turned to Alec. “You must have quite a story, son—shipwrecked, and turning up with an animal like this.”
“It is, sir. We were both on the Drake when it went down, and from what I’ve heard we’re the only survivors.” He paused. “It’s a pretty long story, sir.” He turned to the stallion. “How about it, fella?” The Black snorted.
With a clean bill of health, the ship left Quarantine and steamed through the Narrows into the harbor. Alec eagerly peered through the porthole beside the Black’s stall. His throat tightened as the skyline rose before him. Here he was back home again! How differently he had left it five months ago—it seemed more like five years!
Alec felt the Black’s heavy breathing on his arm. He turned and ran his hand across the tender nostrils. “Well, Black,” he said, “we’re home!”
He could see the two small tugs effortlessly pushing the big freighter. The buildings climbed higher and higher into the sky. A large liner, ocean-bound, passed them—its stacks belching white smoke into the heavens. Tankers and flatboats loaded with railroad cars crept past. In the distance Alec saw the Statue of Liberty. His eyes
filled with tears. What was the matter with him? He was too old to become emotional. But his throat tightened and he swallowed hard as they neared the symbol of freedom and home!
An electric ferry plowed through the water beside the ship, its decks crowded with people. The sun was sinking behind the buildings on the Jersey shore. The Black sniffed at Alec’s hand. He turned and smiled. “Only a few more minutes, Black,” he said. He reached in his pocket and pulled out two lumps of sugar and a radiogram. The stallion took the sugar from his hand. Alec opened the yellow piece of paper, and read it once again: “Will be at pier. Can hardly wait. Love. Mother and Dad.”
The steamer was now opposite Brooklyn, where it was to dock. The tugboats swung the ship around and headed toward the shore. The hold was filled with noise as the crew prepared to unload the ship. The Black became uneasy.
Then the boat slid up beside the dock. Alec heard the bumping of the boat against the dock. A few minutes later the hold doors were thrown open.
The crew began to unload the horses. Because of the Black’s reputation, they made him wait until all the others were off. Then one of the crew signaled to him. “Okay,” he said. Alec smiled as he saw him move quickly away out of the way.
Alec led the Black out of his stall, his hand tight on the lead rope. The stallion’s head rose high; he knew that something unusual was going to happen. Lightly he pranced toward the door. The pier was crowded with people. Dusk had fallen and the lights were on. The Black snorted; he had never seen anything like this. He reared, but Alec brought him down. It was a cool fall night. A breeze blew in through the open door, whipping his mane. His large eyes moved nervously, and he uttered a short, sharp whistle. He shook his head and screamed louder.
Sudden silence fell upon the dock, and all eyes turned toward the Black as he stood in the doorway. Slowly Alec led him down the gangplank. He felt the stallion’s black body tremble as the city noises became louder now that the pier was quiet. Halfway down, the Black suddenly went high into the air. Alec brought him down. Three of the crew started up the gangplank to help. The Black saw them and rose again, his legs striking out in front. The men stopped in their tracks. The stallion had broken into a sweat.