Part of the everyday routine of a dream of a life of romantic adventure. Want to get away from it all? We offer you Escape! Escape! Designed to free you from the four walls of today for a half hour of high adventure. Tonight we escape to a murderous conflict of greed and passion aboard a coast-wise tramp steamer headed for Central America. As John and Gwen Bagney tell it in their exciting tale, Maracas. I am standing in the little patio of a cantina in Maracas. The air is heavy with a scent of tropical vines, tequila and gunpowder. There's broken glass everywhere and the most appalling silence. Captain Kelso is standing here with me, so is Estelle. And General Topaz and his men, their swarthy faces serious, completely erasing their earlier gaiety. The party is over. We're all waiting for General Topaz to give the order. And then, but maybe I'd better start at the beginning. I know now I should never have taken the berth as mate on the Bruno. She's a coast-wise tramp out of San Diego, but at the time I figured working under that loud mouthed sadistic slave driving Kelso was better than the seaman's mission. They were carrying a cargo for Santa Gado and two passengers. From the beginning the void spelled trouble. For one thing, we went long out of Dago when we ran into the blow. I wasn't too concerned about it, but I went to notify the old man purely as a matter of routine. I found him sprawled across his bunk, his mouth open, snoring. There were a couple of empties on the floor and another in the basin. Captain Kelso. Hey, Skipper. Hey, Skipper. Storm, we're running into weather. So, something wrong? No, sir, I just thought you'd like to know. Good, now I know. Get back to the bridge. But suppose I have to change course, sir. Haven't you been in the blow before? Maybe I should have checked your papers before I signed you on. You are a sailor, aren't you? Yes, sir. I've been to sea a couple of times. Well, get out of here and quit beefing it. Don't bother me again, I got a headache. You shut up. What's that, Mr. Doyle? Nothing, sir. Nothing. Back in the wheelhouse, I watched the well deck below disappear completely again and again beneath the angry white water. Then, if I didn't have enough on my mind, it was the passenger, George Miley. I hate passengers that don't belong on freighters, always underfoot, always asking fool questions. And Miley was no exception. But what was worse, he was also the shipper of all that cargo and number two hold, farm equipment from Miley and Gavin, Los Angeles. Mr. Doyle. So, we had orders to be polite to him. Mr. Doyle. You shouldn't be running around the ship in this kind of weather, Mr. Miley. You'll get yourself hurt. I want to see the captain. He's not here, sir. Well, where is he? He's in his quarters, asleep, sir. Asleep in a storm like this? Tell the captain I want to see him. I can't do that, Mr. Miley. I'm a personal friend of Captain Kelso's. He'll see me. Sorry, but he left strict orders not to be disturbed for anything. But the sea is wild. It'll bash my cargo to bits. Your cargo is all right, sir. Now, why don't you just go to your state room and relax, huh? Young man, when I want to discuss my business with a mate, I'll call you. When I want to talk to the captain, I mean exactly that. Now, get in. If he's asleep, wake him. Wake him nuts. I'd rather kick a cobra out of his bed. Go wake him yourself. I will. I shall also report you for your insulin. Yeah, do that. What did he think? Somebody was going to steal his precious cargo? He was on the dock when we loaded it. He was in the hold when we stowed it and on the deck when we battened the hatches. He was so afraid we'd contaminate it, why didn't he send it air express? I was still burning about it when the second came to relieve me. Went down to the galley to have a cup of coffee. Yanked the spigot of the coffee urn so hard that hot coffee splashed in and out of the cup and all over my pants. Oh! I spun around so mad I saw red. Yeah, I saw red, all right. A shining red page boy bob. And underneath it, a mocking face. And about 110 well-distributed pounds. There were only two passengers on board, so that made her Mrs. Miley. May I have a cup of that? What? Coffee. Oh, yeah, yeah, sure, sure. Do I surprise you that much? Why, no, no. As a matter of fact, I just thought that... Yes, I know. Everybody thinks that. If they meet George first. And if they meet you first? Then I warn them about George. Oh? Was he very unpleasant? Yeah, they got a rise out of me, if that's what you mean. Yes, he does that, see. What did he want you to do? Stop the storm? You know him better than I do. I don't think you like me. I'm sorry. I've got something else on my mind. Oh, don't be so serious. I was only kidding. So? So? It's going to be a long trip. Excuse me, Mrs. Miley. I've got to get back to the bridge. Somebody calls me Estelle. What do they call you? They call me Doyle, Mr. Doyle, excuse me. Oh, Mr. Doyle. Yes. I hope I haven't rushed you. Passengers. You see what I mean? They get in your hair one way or another. Only one day out and already she was bored. Already she was looking for a way to pass the time and somebody to pass it with. Well, you can ignore the passengers, but the cargo, that's the lifeblood of shipping. So as soon as the storm quieted down, I went below to make sure it was all well secured. Number three hold filled with canned goods was okay. So was number four, which carried a cargo of radios. Then I went into number two to see how Miley's farm implements were faring. And immediately I was glad I had. One end of a crate had charred loose and wouldn't do for Miley to find that. I brought my flashlight closer to check for possible damage and that's when I saw them. Highly polished stocks of a half dozen rifles. Farm equipment, huh? I ripped open a few more crates. Yeah, they were all the same. Rifles. No wonder George Miley was so concerned with his cargo. Captain Kelso. I told you to keep out of here. You know what we're carrying in number two hold? Sure, cargo, farming equipment. Well, the only digging it'll be doing is for graves. What do you mean? The crates of rifles Miley's transporting. What are you doing in number two hold? Listen Kelso, I signed on this ship as mate, but when it comes to carrying contraband, that's something else. The cargo's listed on the bill of lighting as farm equipment. As far as I'm concerned, that's what it is. Understand Mr. Doyle? Yeah, I understand. What's your cut? What are you talking about? Kelso, you just aren't surprised enough how much a Miley and Gavin paying you. If you got something definite on your mind, spring it. All right, I will. I want my share. Why you... And if I don't get it, I might be unhappy. I might talk to the wrong people, like say, port officials. Why you punk. What do you think you are? Get out of here. Get out before... Get this straight Kelso. If I'm going to help carry trouble, I'm going to get paid for it. And you can tell that to that jerk Miley. Why don't you tell me yourself? All right, Marling, so you hurt me. It wasn't my fault. He was snooping around the hole, Mr. Marling. I didn't know anything about it. Naturally you didn't. You were asleep, drunk. He's a meddling fool. He had no light. Don't upset yourself, Captain. Huh? There's enough profit in my cargo for all of us. No reason why we can't let the man share with us. Now he's there. You're making a mistake. Why don't you let me handle him? You had that opportunity, Captain. We'll do it my way now. And what's my share your way? We'll talk about that. I want a third. A third? Oh, you are greedy. No, I'm afraid we can't let you have that much. Why not? There are already three of us in the deal. My partner Gavin in Los Angeles, myself and the good captain here. All right, then I'll settle for a fourth. How about, shall we say, $3,000? Uh-huh, you're really off your rocker. That hold is loaded with those crates. You better take it, Mr. Doyle. Your thread about informing the port officials won't do much good unless you get to port. See, I'm afraid you're not in a very good position to bargain. I'd say I was. Because you see, Myling, you either give me a fourth or every man in the crew will know what we're carrying before night. You know what happens then? You got a big split on your hands. Everybody shares. You're a very smart man. Well, Myling, is it a deal? It's a deal. In just a moment, we will return you to escape. There's a fellow that makes a nice little thing singing popular songs, a fellow named Crosby, Bing Crosby. Then comes another fellow named Frank Fay and begins to analyze the words to the songs this man Crosby has been singing. Is it justice? Well, who knows? But it's one of the funniest sessions on the air if you heard their broadcast last month. Frank Fay will pay Bing another visit tomorrow night on Bing's regular Wednesday night CBS show. Bing Crosby, Groucho Marx, Burns and Allen, Dr. Christian. They're all Wednesday night stars on most of these same CBS stations. And now we return you to escape and the second act of maracas. The first day of the voyage of the Bruno was drawing to a close. Not 12 hours ago, I'd shipped out of San Diego with exactly a dollar and 62 cents and a Canadian dime to my name. And now the potential, the jackpot potential. The night was clear and dark as I came off watch. There was no moon. The storm had blown itself out to the southwest and now only a light wind across our port beam marked its passing. Yeah, it was the kind of a night I always liked to see, quiet and dark. But this night I would have felt a lot happier if there'd been a moon. There were too many dark places where a man could be ambushed on a ship and the sea is a handy repository for unwanted ballast, including the human variety. So I moved warily, conscious of every sound around me. I almost jumped out of my jacket when I heard him. Mr. Doyle. What? Where are you? Up here on the boat deck. May I see you a moment? All right, sure. I went up the steps, one hand on the railing, one hand on the pocket that held my gun. I stopped, took a bearing and squinted in the darkness. I could just make him outmiling, standing near number three lifeboat. Over here, Mr. Doyle. Yeah, sure. What's on your mind? I want to talk to you. Yeah, I gathered that. It's about our partnership. What about it? I like you, Mr. Doyle. I think you're a fine addition to our little enterprise. But there's a little problem. Ah, the fine print, the hidden clause in the contract. Oh, nothing that can't be worked out. I'm afraid I was a little hasty, spoken advisedly in the captain's quarters. Oh? While my partner, Tom Gavin, is a very reasonable man, I feel sure he would never endorse a four-way split. You know, there's a lot of overhead to a proposition like this. That isn't all clear profit. Get to the point, will you? Isn't it obvious? We have one too many partners. One has to be liquidated. Which one? That's a decision I'll leave up to you. Captain Kelso wouldn't hesitate to do it to you if I gave him the chance. That's a charming idea, but no thanks. I'll run your guns, but you handle your own liquidation. Then I'm afraid you leave me no alternative, Mr. Doyle. What? I'll be good enough to move back. Now, wait a minute. Get over there between the lifeboats. I hadn't even seen him reach for a gun, yet there it was, pointing into the pit of my stomach as he forced me backwards between the lifeboats where there's no railing. If only I could get to my gun, I'd have a shooting chance. I didn't know what the sound was, but it startled Merlin just enough for me to pull my gun and hit the deck. His bullet went mild, mine found its mark, but he'd made the choice for me. Murder or be murdered. I'd have to explain it. I wondered what I would tell them, but nobody saw it. Maybe nobody even heard it. Maybe I could just keep my mouth shut. Maybe the wind had carried the sound away. I moved quickly across the boat deck, stumbled over a davit crank handle. This must have been the cause of the sound that startled Merlin. This was the thing that had saved my life. I stooped down to pick it up and became conscious of something else. A foot. A foot in a spiked heeled sandal. Mrs. Merlin. She stared at me without expression. I didn't know how long she'd stood there in the shadow of the ventilator. I tried to bumble out some kind of an explanation of how it had happened, how it wasn't my fault. I didn't know how much she'd seen, but I stopped abruptly when I heard him coming up the ladder bellowing like a bull. Who's up there? What's that shooting about? Oh, it's you, Joel. What are you? Mrs. Merlin. What are you doing up here? Where's Mr. Merlin? What happened? George had an accident. He fell overboard. What? He was drunk. He didn't know what he was doing. He would have killed me if Mr. Doyle hadn't happened along and interfered. Yeah, but I heard shots. That was George. When he lost his footing, his gun went off. Twice? Yes, twice. I suppose you'll have to make some kind of a record of this in your log book. Yeah. I'd better lower a lifeboat and look for him. It wouldn't do any good, Captain. George can't swim. I watched Kelso walk away. I knew he didn't believe any of it. The minute he was out of earshot, I turned to her. What did you lie for? Why didn't you tell the truth the way it happened? What do you care? You're in the clear. I don't like the way you did it. Well, it's done, so forget it. You ought to be grateful to me. What for? I saved your life. How do you think that thing got on the deck, that handle? You mean that you... That's right, I threw it. George would have killed you if I hadn't. Hey, wait a minute. That means that you wanted him dead. Earlier tonight in the galley, I thought you were just passing the time with me. I thought that you... You thought what? Let's just say I did you a favor and you did me a favor. Now we're even. The bereaved little widow. She made that sea-scum Kelso look like a choir boy. I don't know what she had in her vicious mind, but it wouldn't be good. Not that it made any difference to me. I had only one interest. One interest only, my share of the loot. Now that Marling was dead, the split should be bigger. And then I remembered. I'd done the stupid thing. I'd ripped open quite a number of those crates in my hurried inspection of the cargo. And I hadn't crated them up again. Those shiny rifle butts were visible. We couldn't risk port officials seeing them. I hurried in the number two hold and was busy nailing up the cases when Kelso came down. Bouting your chickens? Just protecting my investment. You've gotten around an awful lot tonight, Joel. I'm an active partner. Yeah? Well, if you want to stay that way, you'll take orders from me. Marling's gone. It's every man for himself now. I don't like you, Joel. That's mutual. That was some cock and bull story you and her cooked up. You heard her tell it. I've known Marling for years. I know he never touched a drop of liquor. Talk to her about it. That's the trouble. I can't prove a thing. But you watch your step, Joel. Don't you get any idea you can cut me out like you'd cut him out? Yeah, well, I'm going to watch you too, Kelso. I'm going to watch you close. You can quit fighting over it, boys. There isn't going to be any money to split. What? The cargo's already been paid for. Tom Gavin collected for it in Los Angeles before this ship ever sailed. Marling told me it would be paid for at the end of the run. Marling promised me. George promised a lot of things. And George isn't here. You never intended for him to reach the end of the run. Is that it, Mrs. Marling? Oh, smart boy. You and Gavin had a cute little thing cooked up between you, didn't you? And I stepped in and washed your dirty linen. You haven't anything to squawk about. You're alive, aren't you? And neither have you, Captain. You'll get paid for the freight. Freight? For that measly amount I took a chance on losing my license and my ship? Freight? I ought to... Keep away from me! All right, leave her alone! I said shut up! If she thinks she's going to get away with this... Shut up! Now listen. You hear that? Listen, it's ticking. Only two things tick, a clock and a time bomb. Here we've been shouting, screaming at each other as the minutes ticked away. And now we're wildly fanned out with flashlights trying to track down the source of the sound. Fighting time. Minutes. Maybe seconds. I was the one who had found it. I didn't want one of the cases of rifles I'd opened. Enough TNT to blow the whole ship apart, and that's with it. We held our breath, white and tense, as I pulled the clock mechanism away from the detonator, dismantling the bomb. And there was only one person who could have done it, the one who ensured the cargo, the shepard. Marling had been on board, so it had been Gavin. How do you feel about your Mr. Gavin now, Mrs. Marling? How do you like being a sucker along with the rest of the boys? You're right. I'm the biggest sucker of all. No wonder Tom was so sure George would never come back. And do you know how he wrote me? With the oldest cliché in the world. He was going to marry me when I came back in my widow's weave. Never mind the broken blossoms. What about us? We're carrying contraband and all the rest that goes with it and not a nickel for any of us. If you two have finished feeling sorry for yourselves, old man Kelso'd like the floor. There's no law of gravity that says this cargo has to go to Santa Gordo, is there? You've got an idea? Sure I got an idea. But I'm boss. You understand, Joel? If you've got an idea. Okay, Mrs. Marling. All I want is a chance to see Tom Gavin squirm. You'll get it, I promise you. You gotta be enterprising in this business, Joel. There's more than one way to turn a buck. And there's more than one side to a revolution. Like Kelso said, no reason why our cargo should go on to Santa Gordo. There were others who wanted and needed rifles, the guerrillas. And what was more important, they had plenty of money, gold. And Kelso knew a man in Maracas who knew a man who could put us in touch with the guerrilla chief. So we altered the course. Ten days later we steamed through the Gulf of Teresa and entered the obscure little bay of Maracas. As still we were partners now, I dropped the Mrs. Marling. Kelso and I, three ill assorted people, went ashore to make the rendezvous. We walked up a steep winding hill to a little cantina. And just as Kelso had promised, his friend's friend had made the contact. All we had to do was wait. It was a hot night, so we sat in the picturesque little patio. And then we heard them. First it sounded like a roar of thunder from over the horizon. Then it took form. First a boisterous cloud and then distinct shapes. Horsemen, a dozen, so shooting and whooping as they galloped up. A gang of renegades, unshaven, sweat stained, each piercer looking to the other. All wearing cross-cottage belts, sombreros, and sporting firearms of assorted caliber and make. You are Captain Cusso? I am Topaz, El General Topaz. Well, shipments are ready, General. I'll have it unloaded. There is no hurry. When the time come, my men will take it off. In the meantime, we have come a long way. The hills, they are dry. It's so are my men. We have a drink now. But I thought maybe we'd better... You brought a lovely lady. Topaz is happy. And when Topaz is happy, he must have a drink. Amadillo, tequila, cerveza for the men and for my friend. Let's go and have a drink. I've never seen so much liquor consumed so fast. Tequila and cerveza, a violent combination. And it had a wild effect on them. The more they drank, the more uncontrollable they became. Chowding and shooting glasses and coffee, it's a complexed-stone parable. We began to have an uneasy feeling. We wanted to conclude our business quickly, unload the rifles, get paid and get out. Even Kelso began to be uneasy. Look, General, fun is fun, but we can't hang around here all night. Plenty of time, my friend, plenty of time. More tequila, Diego, play for us. Señorita, is this not nice? You are lucky. Music, good night and Topaz. Please, General, Captain Kelso is right. You should send for the cargo. You think so, eh? All right, all right. Mario, Chalo. Hello. Get the men, unload the rifles. Yes. You are happy now, Señorita? This can, Señorita. We have drink, no? No, I... You think Topaz drink too much, eh? Amadillo, hold the bottle up. I must be drunk. I hit the bottle, not the cord. It was a good enough shot to make my blood run cold. All of them were. The more they drank, the better their aim. General Topaz was having a riot in the family. A cannon of 44 shooting gourds on the coast. And it was a real war. And it was a relief when the cases of rifles began to pile up. And suddenly, the General's mood changed. He was bored with his marksmanship. Bring me one. I want to see how good the gringo's guns are. One of his men ripped open a crate. General Topaz grabbed a rifle, held it in his hands, inspected it and threw it violently at me. This joke, you make fun with Topaz. Open the door! His men literally tore the tops off dozens of crates with their fingers. And I told Cold in the pit of my stomach. I hoped it had been a mistake, but it wasn't. It was a grim joke. For Gavin hadn't meant that cargo to go through, so he hadn't wasted real rifles on it. He'd sent case after case of dummy cargo. Oh, they were rifles, all right. Good enough to fool me down in the hold. If only I'd taken one out, examined it, I might have discovered in time that they were phony guns that would never fire a shell. Cheap pot-metal imitations with highly polished pine stalks. Great stuff for kids under a Christmas tree, but not quite good enough for General Topaz. General Topaz is important, man. I have important war, and for this you'll pay. Mario, Diego, Nino, Chado, Amadeo, Cano, a great shot for these canaries. And so it's dawn, and we three, Estelle, Calso, and I, are standing here in the patio. General Topaz and his guerrillas are drunk, but not dead drunk, rather deadly drunk. Ten of them, the firing squad, lined up facing the three of us. Their guns aimed straight at us, and on their dull faces, murder. The general with his flamboyant sense of drama raises his gun just as the first rays of the sun streak through. He has a sense of the drama, General Topaz, but no sense of humor. If it weren't so final, it might be funny. Double, double cross. Escape is produced and directed by William N. Robeson. Tonight we have presented Maracas by John and Gwen Bagney. Featured in the cast were Bill Conrad as Doyle, Ted de Corsier as Captain Calso, Joan Banks as Estelle, Paul Fries as George Meierling, and Juan Hernández as General Topaz. Special music was arranged and conducted by Del Castillo. Next week. You were on a schooner in the South Seas, and dead ahead lies the island of Folota, and the most desperate man of this lawless region. You have never seen him, but you have sworn to kill him. Next week we escape with an exciting tale of the strangest bargain ever made, as George F. Watt tells it in his famous story, Sunk. Goodbye then, until this same time next week, when once again we offer you Escape. Festive music for a festive holiday, one full hour of it. That's the treat in store for you when you tune in to the Thanksgiving Day Festival over these same CBS stations. The Choraleers and the Symphonette combine talents for this great show, plus Leonid Hambro, pianist, Oscar Shumsky, violinist, Bambi Lynn, young Broadway star, and many other favorites. Remember 5 p.m. Eastern Standard Time on Thanksgiving Day for the whole family, the Thanksgiving Day Festival over the entire CBS network. Now stay tuned for Hit the Jackpot, which follows immediately on most of these stations. This is CBS, the Columbia Broadcasting System. NPM, ULOVA, BULLEBUL ONCE TIME.
