Everybody applauded, sang a hymn, and began their evening meal. As night fell, searchlights came on from the ship, making the beach bright as day. The sentries paced up and down, shoulders hunched nervously, rifles ready.
Danton watched the settlers shake out their sleeping bags and retire under the bulge of the ship. Even their fear of sudden attack couldn’t force them to spend another night inside the ship, when there was fresh air to breathe outside.
The great orange moon of New Tahiti was half-hidden by highflying night clouds. The sentries paced and swore, and moved closer together for mutual comfort and protection. They began firing at the jungle sounds and blasting at shadows.
Danton crept back into the jungle. He retired for the night behind a tree, where he would be safe from stray bullets. This evening had not seemed the time for straightening things out. The Hutters were too jumpy. It would be better, he decided, to handle the matter by daylight, in a simple, straightforward, reasonable fashion.
The trouble was, the Hutters hardly seemed reasonable.
In the morning, though, everything looked more promising. Danton waited until the Hutters had finished their breakfast, then strolled into view at the edge of the beach.
“Halt!” every one of the sentries barked.
“That savage is back!” called a settler.
“Mummy,” cried a little boy, “don’t let the nasty bad man eat me!”
“Don’t worry, dear,” the boy’s mother said. “Your father has a rifle for shooting savages.”
Simeon rushed out of the spaceship and glared at Danton. “All right, you! Come forward!”
Danton stepped gingerly across the beach, his skin tingling with nervous expectation. He walked to Simeon, keeping his empty hands in sight.
“I am the leader of these people,” Simeon said, speaking very slowly, as if to a child. “I the big chief fella. You big fella chief your people?”
“There’s no need to talk that way,” Danton said. “I can hardly understand you. I told you yesterday that I haven’t any people. There’s just me.”
Simeon’s hard face grew white with anger. “Unless you’re honest with me, you’re going to regret it. Now—where is your tribe?”
“I’m an Earthman,” Danton yelled. “Are you deaf? Can’t you hear how I talk?”
A stooped little man with white hair and great horn-rimmed glasses came over with Jedekiah. “Simeon,” the little man said, “I don’t believe I have met our guest.”
“Professor Baker,” said Simeon, “this savage here claims he’s an Earthman and he says his name is Edward Danton.”
The professor glanced at Danton’s pareu, his tanned skin and callused feet. “You are an Earthman?” he asked Danton.
“Of course.”
“Who carved those stone statues up the beach?”
“I did,” Danton said, “but it was just therapy. You see—”
“Obviously primitive work. That stylization, those noses—”
“It was accidental, then. Look, a few months ago I left Earth in a spaceship—”
“How was it powered?” Professor Baker asked.
“By a GM subspatial torque converter.” Baker nodded, and Danton went on. “Well, I wasn’t interested in places like Korani or Heil V, and Hedonia seemed too rich for my blood. I passed up the Mining Worlds and the Farming Worlds, and had the government ship drop me here. The planet’s registered as New Tahiti, in my name. But I was getting pretty lonely, so I’m glad you folks came.”
“Well, Professor?” Simeon said. “What do you think?”
“Amazing,” Baker murmured, “truly amazing. His grasp of colloquial English bespeaks a fairly high level of intelligence, which points up a phenomenon frequently met with in savage societies, namely, an unusually well-developed power of mimicry. Our friend Danta (as his original, uncorrupted name must have been) will probably be able to tell us many tribal legends, myths, songs, dances—”
“But I’m an Earthman!”
“No, my poor friend,” the professor corrected gently, “you are not. Obviously you have met an Earthman. Some trader, I daresay, stopping for repairs.”
Jedekiah said, “There’s evidence that a spaceship once landed here briefly.”
“Ah,” said Professor Baker, beaming. “Confirmation of my hypothesis.”
“That was the government ship,” Danton explained. “It dropped me off here.”
“It is interesting to note,” said Professor Baker in his lecturing voice, “how his almost-plausible story lapses into myth at various crucial points. He claims that the ship was powered by a ‘GM subspatial torque converter’—which is nonsense syllabification, since the only deep-space drive is the Mikkelsen. He claims that the journey from Earth was made in a matter of months (since his untutored mind cannot conceive of a journey lasting years), although we know that no space drive, even theoretically, can achieve that.”
“It was probably developed after your people left Earth,” Danton said. “How long have you been gone?”
“The Hutter spaceship left Earth one hundred and twenty years ago,” Baker replied condescendingly. “We are mostly fourth and fifth generation. Note also,” Baker said to Simeon and Jedekiah, “his attempt to think up plausible place-names. Words such as Korani, Heil, Hedonia appeal to his sense of onomatopoeia. That there are no such places doesn’t disturb him.”
“There are!” Danton said indignantly.
“Where?” Jedekiah challenged. “Give me the coordinates.”
“How should I know? I’m no navigator. I think Heil was near Bootes, or maybe it was Cassiopeia. No, I’m pretty sure it was Bootes—”
“I’m sorry, friend,” said Jedekiah. “It may interest you to know that I’m the ship’s navigator. I can show you the star atlases and charts. Those places aren’t on them.”
“Your charts are a hundred years out of date!”
“Then so are the stars,” Simeon said. “Now, Danta, where is your tribe? Why do they hide from us? What are they planning?”
“This is preposterous,” Danton protested. “What can I do to convince you? I’m an Earthman. I was born and raised—”
“That’s enough,” Simeon cut in. “If there’s one thing we Hutters won’t stand for, it’s backtalk from natives. Out with it, Danta. Where are your people?”
“There’s only me,” Danton insisted.
“Tight-mouthed?” Jedekiah gritted. “Maybe a taste of the black-snake whip—”
“Later, later,” Simeon said. “His tribe’ll come around for handouts. Natives always do. In the meantime, Danta, you can join that work gang over there, unloading the supplies.”
“No, thanks,” said Danton. “I’m going back to—”
Jedekiah’s fist lashed out, catching Danton on the side of the jaw. He staggered, barely keeping his footing.
“The chief said no backtalk!” Jedekiah roared. “Why are you natives always so bone-lazy? You’ll be paid as soon as we unload the beads and calico. Now get to work.”
That seemed to be the last word on the subject. Dazed and unsure, much like millions of natives before him on a thousand different worlds, Danton joined the long line of colonists passing goods out of the ship.
By late afternoon, the unloading was done and the settlers were relaxed on the beach. Danton sat apart from them, trying to think his situation through. He was deep in thought when Anita came to him with a canteen of water.