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  cracky, by: an exclamation used to express surprise or to emphasize a comment.

  dagnab: doggone; an exclamation of disappointment, irritation, frustration, etc.

  ensign: a naval flag used to indicate nationality.

  fathom: a unit of length equal to six feet (1.83 meters), used in measuring the depth of water.

  FLC: Farm Labor Contractor; establishment primarily engaged in supplying labor for agricultural production.

  Flying Dutchman: the name of the cursed spectral ship on an endless voyage, trying to round South Africa, the Cape of Good Hope, against strong winds and never succeeding. It has been the most famous of maritime ghost stories for more than 300 years.

  fo’c’s’le: forecastle; the upper deck of a sailing ship, forward of the foremast.

  founder: to sink below the surface of the water.

  giddap: alteration of “get up”; used as a command to a horse to start moving.

  goldurned: goddamned; used as an expression of anger, disgust, etc.

  gum, by: an exclamation of surprise.

  gunwale: the upper edge of the side of a boat. Originally a gunwale was a platform where guns were mounted, and was designed to accommodate the additional stresses imposed by the artillery being used.

  halyard: a rope used for raising and lowering a sail.

  hawser: a thick rope or cable for mooring or towing a ship.

  Hobart: capital and principal port of Tasmania, southeast Australia.

  HOLC: Home Owners’ Loan Corporation; an agency established in 1933 under President Franklin Roosevelt. Its purpose was to refinance homes to prevent foreclosure (the action of taking property that was bought with borrowed money, because the money was not paid back as formally agreed). The HOLC made about 100 million low-interest loans between June of 1933 and June of 1936.

  keel: a lengthwise structure along the base of a ship, and in some vessels extended downwards as a ridge to increase stability.

  largess: money generously bestowed.

  lying to: stopping with the vessel heading into the wind.

  Madeira: a rich, strong white or amber wine, resembling sherry.

  marlinespike: a tool made from wood or metal, and used in rope work for tasks such as untwisting rope for splicing or untying knots that tighten up under tension. It is basically a polished cone tapered to a rounded point, usually six to twelve inches long, although sometimes it is longer.

  monkey fist: a ball-like knot used as an ornament or as a throwing weight at the end of a line.

  newfangled: of the newest style or kind.

  Old Glory: a common nickname for the flag of the US, bestowed by William Driver (1803–1886), an early nineteenth-century American sea captain. Given the flag as a gift, he hung it from his ship’s mast and hailed it as “Old Glory” when he left harbor for a trip around the world (1831–1832) as commander of a whaling vessel. Old Glory served as the ship’s official flag throughout the voyage.

  painter: a rope, usually at the bow, for fastening a boat to a ship, stake, etc.

  pilot bread: a hard thin unsalted bread or biscuit formerly eaten aboard ships or as military rations.

  piqué: a tightly woven fabric with various raised patterns.

  poop: poop deck; a deck that constitutes the roof of a cabin built in the aft part of the ship. The name originates from the Latin puppis, for the elevated stern deck.

  purblind: completely blind.

  quarterdeck: the rear part of the upper deck of a ship, usually reserved for officers.

  range light: two white lights carried by a steamer to indicate her course.

  rapier: a small sword, especially of the eighteenth century, having a narrow blade and used for thrusting.

  RFD: Rural Free Delivery; the service by which the United States Postal Service delivers mail directly to residents in rural areas. Prior to its establishment, the residents of rural America had to travel to the nearest post office to get their mail or pay private companies to deliver it.

  running light: one of the lights carried by a ship at night and comprising a green light on the starboard side, a red light on the port side, and on a steamer a white light at the foremast head.

  schooner: a fast sailing ship with at least two masts and with sails set lengthwise.

  schooner’s house: a structure rising above the deck of a schooner that encloses the bridge.

  sea anchor: a device, such as a conical canvas bag, that is thrown overboard and dragged behind a ship to control its speed or heading.

  snuffbox: a box for holding snuff, especially one small enough to be carried in the pocket. Snuff is a preparation of tobacco, either powdered and taken into the nostrils by inhalation, or ground and placed between the cheek and gum.

  sou’wester: a waterproof hat with a wide brim that widens in the back to protect the neck in stormy weather, worn especially by seamen.

  spavined: suffering from, or affected with, a disease of the joint in the hind leg of a horse (corresponding anatomically to the ankle in humans) where the joint is enlarged because of collected fluids.

  spring wagon: a light farm wagon equipped with springs.

  sprit: a small pole running diagonally from the foot of a mast up to the top corner of a fore-and-aft sail, to support and stretch it.

  squaresa’ls: square sails; four-cornered sails suspended from the ship’s horizontal yards, long rods mounted crosswise on a mast that support and spread the sails. Square sails are on tall ships, which are called “square riggers.”

  stern: the rear end of a ship or boat.

  t’gal’nts: topgallants; the mast or sail above the mainmast, or mainsail in a square-rigged ship.

  thwart: a seat across a boat, especially one used by a rower.

  took to his heels: ran away.

  truck: vegetables raised for the market.

  Vanderbeck: the captain of the ship The Flying Dutchman, a ghost ship doomed to forever sail oceans without ever succeeding in rounding the Cape of Good Hope. The legend is said to have started in 1641 when a Dutch ship sank off the coast of the Cape of Good Hope. The ship hit a treacherous rock and as it plunged downwards, Captain Vanderbeck, knowing death was approaching and not ready to die, screamed out a curse: “I will round this Cape even if I have to keep sailing until doomsday!” Satan, overhearing his boasting, doomed him for all eternity to precisely that—sailing forever.

  windward: facing the wind or on the side facing the wind.

  WPA: Works Projects Administration; former US government agency established in 1935 under President Franklin Roosevelt when unemployment was widespread. The goal of the WPA was to employ most of the people on relief on useful projects until the economy recovered. WPA’s building program included the construction of 116,000 buildings, 75,000 bridges, 651,000 miles (1,047,000 km) of road and the improvement of 800 airports.

  Yankee: a native or inhabitant of one of the northeastern states of the US that sided with the Union in the American Civil War (1861–1865). The Union refers to the northern states that remained a part of the original United States government during the American Civil War.

  Published by

  Galaxy Press, LLC

  7051 Hollywood Boulevard, Suite 200

  Hollywood, CA 90028

  © 2008 L. Ron Hubbard Library. All Rights Reserved.

  Any unauthorized copying, translation, duplication, importation or distribution, in whole or in part, by any means, including electronic copying, storage or transmission, is a violation of applicable laws.

  Mission Earth is a trademark owned by L. Ron Hubbard Library and is used with permission. Battlefield Earth is a trademark owned by Author Services, Inc. and is used with permission.

  Horsemen illustration from Western Story Magazine is © and ™ Condé Nast Publica
tions and is used with their permission. Cover art and story illustrations; Fantasy, Far-Flung Adventure and Science Fiction illustrations; Story Preview and Glossary illustrations and The Crossroads cover art: Unknown and Astounding Science Fiction copyright © by Street & Smith Publications, Inc. Reprinted with permission of Penny Publications, LLC.

  ISBN 978-1-59212-540-1 ePub version

  ISBN 978-1-59212-367-4 print version

  ISBN 978-1-59212-240-0 audiobook version

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2007927517

  Contents

  DANGER IN THE DARK

  THE ROOM

  HE DIDN’T LIKE CATS

  GLOSSARY

  Danger in the Dark

  Danger in the Dark

  BILLY NEWMAN looked wearily at the apathetic face and needed no fine physician to tell him that he gazed upon death. For all its flat nose and thick lips and narrow brow, it was—or had been—pleasant, always filled with happiness as only the face of the simple can be. Osea had been a good boy. He had trudged stoutheartedly after his fellah mahstah, carrying heavy loads through the thickest of jungle and the hottest of days, through the thundering rains and the parching droughts. Osea would trudge no more. His machete and the artistry with which he used it could avail him nothing now against this unseen enemy, the Red Plague.

  Fifteen hundred miles to the north and west lay Manila; but no frail dugout prow could breast that distance, much less traverse it in time to bring relief to Kaisan Isle. Fifteen hundred miles away and no steamer would stop for another six months, and even if a lugger put in, the one word smallpox would drive the vessel seaward again as fast as the trade winds blow.

  Osea was dying. Billy Newman sat beside the bunk and wondered how many hours or how many days would pass before the witch doctor would have to bury him—Osea and those others down in the village who were even now fighting with their last gasps to live.

  Billy Newman had never before felt so lonely—and he had had aloneness as his constant companion, it seemed, for all his days. Futility weighed down upon his slender shoulders and bowed them. His small face, which tried to be stronger in its possession of a thin, silken mustache, showed how many hours it had been since last he had slept. The only thing he had to encourage him in this was that he himself had long ago been filled brimming with the antitoxin. Perhaps it was still strong enough to keep him from getting the disease. But he had no real concern for himself in any event. These people, already wasted by the ravages of Spain and the white man’s unhealthy civilization, hardly deserved the gruesome tricks fate played upon them. And to think of their laughter being stilled forever was more than Billy Newman could bear.

  He had no slightest inkling of the source of the disease. The last ship in had left six months before, and certainly it had had a clean bill of health. Kaisan, at the southern end of the Robber Islands, was too small to merit more than a yearly call of a small tramp. There was no reason for more. Kaisan, like ten thousand of its brothers, offered little or no inducement to trade. When it rained one swam rather than walked. And when the rains went away the land withered and parched. Copra, these last few years, had cost more to grow than its selling price, and of other crops, it raised none.

  Billy wondered dully why he had ever come here. He knew but he had not energy enough just then to recall the answer. Through a lucky gold strike in Luzon he had amassed eight thousand dollars and—he had thought it was still good luck—he had been told that he could buy Kaisan for six thousand. He had bought.

  Sitting there, waiting dispiritedly for Osea to die, he mulled over his arrival. At first he had laughed about it, not wishing to appear daunted by such nonsense. But now he well remembered what the fleeing seller had said.

  The German had stood on the beach, eagerly watching his dunnage being loaded into a longboat. His fat, sun-fried face was filled with a glee which had long been foreign to it—but with a nervousness, too, as though he expected, even at this last instant, to be struck down where he stood.

  “Goot-by, goot-by,” he said for the hundredth time. “Py colly, Newman, I wish you all der luck I got—which ain’t so much. But py damn, Newman, you vatch yourself, you hear? You look ouit. Don’t pull no funny pizness. I got mein dollars, and now I don’t vant to leave you mitout telling you to vatch it. Ven I get to Manila I von’t say noddings. I von’t breathe a void abouit it. I ain’t no svindler. And ven I get around I vill tell dem for you that you’ll take six t’ousand dollars for der place. Maybe next year, py colly, ven der steamer cooms, it brings a buyer. I’ll do dot, Newman, I ain’t no svindler.”

  “Maybe I won’t want to sell,” said Billy with a smile, surveying the white beach and the pleasant house and the native village and hearing the drums going to welcome him.

  “Hah! Maybe you von’t vant to sell. Captung, you listen at him.”

  “I heard him,” said the ship captain, grinning. “But I hope I bring you a buyer when I come just the same. And, more’n that, ’cause I ain’t so tough as I’m painted, I hope we’ll find you alive.”

  “If you mean these people may turn on me—” began Billy.

  “The people?” said the German. “No, py gott, dem fellers ain’t goin’ to hurt you none. Dem fellers is fine fellers, py colly.”

  “What is wrong, then?” persisted Billy.

  “Vell . . .” the German looked searchingly at him. “No, py gott, you’ll find it out for yourself. You von’t pelief it anyvay even if I dell you.”

  “That’s a comfort,” said Billy. “If I won’t believe it, maybe it isn’t so.”

  “Oh, it’s so, all right,” said the captain. “At least Hans here is the first live and kicking white man we’ve pulled out of here in eight years—and that’s how long I’ve been on this run. You’ll find the rest of them over in the native cemetery with the gugus—and there are more dead natives around here than live ones by a hell of a ways. He means about Tadamona. That’s what seems to get ’em.”

  “Who?”

  “Tadamona. He’s the boss spirit around here. About seventy-five feet tall. If you see him or displease him, he either makes the plague come or he blows the place around with a typhoon.”

  “Oh,” said Billy, grinning broadly. “If I didn’t know these islands better . . . Why, hell’s bells, gentlemen, there isn’t an island in the Pacific that hasn’t its seventy-five-foot spirit. But I’ve never happened to meet one.” He chuckled. “I thought you were talking about something real there for a while.”

  The captain and Hans had exchanged a glance and a shrug. They gravely took their final leave of him and then put off in the longboat to go geysering through the reef surf and out toward the steamer. By their heads Billy could see that they were talking dolorously about him. And there he had been left in a circle of baggage while the village chiefs in all their grass and feathers had marched down to acknowledge his leadership. He noted that they seemed to be in very good practice.

  But still he was not going to be caught believing in such nonsense. The plague was the plague and nothing more. It had leaped, it was true, from nowhere, and before it would depart a good hundred of the two thousand would mark its path with white gravestones. Plague was plague. The villain was a small microbe, not a seventy-five-foot, wholly mythical god.

  The medicine drums were beating wearily and another, greater drum had commenced to boom with a hysteria which spoke of breaking nerves. The slither and slap of bare feet sounded upon Billy’s verandah, and he straightened up to see that Wanoa and several lesser chiefs had come.

  They greeted him with deep bows, their faces stiff to hide the terror within them.

  “Hafa?” said Billy, giving it the “What’s the matter” intonation.

  “We come to seek your help,” said Wanoa.

  “I have done all I can,” replied Billy. “But if you think what lit
tle medicine I have may stave off any new case . . .” He got slowly to his feet and reached mechanically for his topee, although it was already night.

  “Medicine does no good,” said Wanoa with dignity. “We have found it necessary to use strong means—” He paused, cutting the flow of his Chamorro off short, as though he realized that what he was about to say would not go well with the mahstah.

  “And?” said Billy, feeling it somehow.

  “We turn back to old rite. Tonight we sacrifice young girl to Tadamona. Maybe it will be that he will turn away his anger—”

  “A young girl?” gaped Billy. “You mean . . . you’re going to kill—”

  “We are sorry. It is necessary. Long time ago priests come. They tell us about fellah mahstah Jesus Christ. We say fine. Bime-by island got nothing but crosses. Tadamona is boss god Kaisan. Tadamona does not like to be forgotten. For a long time he slept. And then he see no sacrifices coming anymore. He get angry. For thirty years we get no rest. We get sick, all the best people die, the crops are bad, the typhoons throw our houses down. Then white men here get plenty power and Tadamona jealous and not like. Things get worse and worse. Tadamona no like white man because white man say he is boss. Tadamona is boss.”

  “You can’t do this,” said Billy quietly. “I won’t let you murder—”

  “We not murder anybody,” said Wanoa. “Christina say she happy to die if people get saved.”

  “Christina! Why, she . . . she’s a mission girl! You’re lying! She’s half-white! She would never consent to such a thing!”

  Wanoa made a beckoning motion at the door, and Christina came shyly inside to stand with downcast face.

  Billy walked toward her and placed his hand on her shoulder. Very often these last months he had watched her and wondered why he should go on forever alone. He would spend the rest of his life here, and Christina—she had that fragile beauty of the mestiza, beauty enough to turn the heads of most white men.