Tired of the everyday grind? Ever dream of a life of romantic adventure? Wanna 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. You are adrift in a native canoe, somewhere off the Solomon Islands. Ahead of you, lie the unknown terrors of native savagery. And closing in on you is a white man whose gunboat will smash you to the bottom of the sea. Listen now as Escape brings you John Russell's story, The Price of the Head. The possessions of Mr. Christopher Pellet were these. A bad name in the islands, a suit of ducks in which he lived and slept, a continuous thirst for liquor, and a set of fine red whiskers. And strangely enough, he had a friend, Karaki. Now no man can gain friendship except by virtue of some decent quality attaching to him, and Pellet had none. How then explain the loving devotion lavished upon that drunken brute by the gentle native? This was the mystery at Fulfuti. But mystery or no, Pellet himself became unendurable to the decent, peaceable folk of the town. Next shot's gonna kill you, Pellet. So help me, I'd put a bullet in your drunken brains. Get out. All right, I'm going. I'm going. In the silver isles there lived a wench whose eyes were blue and nose was... Hey, Mummery. You missed the fun, Mummery. Take your hands off me, Mr. Pellet. You're an offencer. You're an offencer. Karaki! Where is that boy? One day Mr. Howe may be obliged to shoot you. He shoot me, that'd be murder. Murder's fine talk for a company agent, Mr. Mummery. Where is that boy? Karaki! Come here, Karaki. Karaki, come quick. Here's a shot. You all right? No hit, Pellet anywhere? I'm fine, Karaki. Fine. Go fetch one bottle of rum, you come along home. Me go along, Mr. Howe. Pay for trouble, catch a bottle. Wait here. Me no be much long. You wait. Fine fellow that Karaki, eh, Mummery? Only friend I got in this filthy island. May I suggest, Mr. Pellet, that perhaps if you behave... Suggest nothing. I got a headache. You tell Karaki I've gone to the beach, huh? In the silver isles there lived a wench whose eyes were blue and nose was... All right, Karaki. He's'll pay for this mess, but next time he blows off, I'll put a bullet in his leg. No, no, Mr. Howe. No shoot. Karaki, all time. Pay good. Well, Mr. Mummery. Beat it, Karaki. I'd like a chat with you, Mr. Howe. Right with you, sir. Moe Jack, give Karaki a bottle of rum and get this mess cleaned up. Yes, sir, Mr. Howe. Come into the office, Mr. Pellet. We're more cosy there. That Pellet ought to be in jail. The man's a mad beast. He is, and particularly so on your rum, Mr. Howe. Oh, come now, Mr. Mummery. You can't lay Pellet's sins on my doorstep. I'm not going to let you get away with this. I'm going to get away with this. Oh, come now, Mr. Mummery. You can't lay Pellet's sins on my doorstep. Nothing I can do, as long as he pays his bills. Well, I'm a fair man, Mr. Howe, and I won't order you to stop selling Pellet your rum if there's any other way to handle the matter. Well, to be honest with you, sir, I do make a small profit on Karaki's pearls, what he pays me with, though nothing enormous, mind you. Still, I'd do without it not to have Pellet about. When I walk down the street, I have a feeling the natives are laughing at me just because I'm a white man, too. By heavens, it's true, and something must be done at once. Mr. Howe, I'll try talking to him like a gentleman. But I'll be firm with him. Now, if you'll send Moijak with a message that I'd like to have him for tea tomorrow... Tea? Ha ha ha! You don't mind my saying so, Mr. Mummery. Tea isn't... Oh, all right, then. Tell him there'll be whiskey. That'll do it, sir. And good luck with him. Thank you, Mr. Howe. Tagara? Tagara, whiskey for Mr. Pellet, girl. It's been years since my throat's been wet by good Scotch whiskey, Mummery. Yes, I am sure. You live well here. Fine house, good liquor, servants. I work hard, Mr. Pellet. You should have been a preacher, Mummery. You missed your line in Copra. If you please, Mr. Pellet, we are not discussing my career. No, well, go on, Mummery. As long as I'm drinking your whiskey, I'll listen to your chatter. Girl? You... you make it difficult, Mr. Pellet. I need to. Yes, I suppose you do. I didn't expect you to invite me here out of friendliness, Mummery. But you could have friends, Mr. Pellet, if you live decent. I live the way I want, and I've got a friend. A savage. That's odd. Never thought a cat would be so clever. That's odd. Never thought a Karakee is a savage. I suppose he is. Yes, civilization lies lightly on these people, Mr. Pellet. At heart, Karakee is nothing but a heathen from Bougainville. Bougainville, yeah. You know, Karakee likes it there. He's always talking about it. Well, you must probably talk about your home. Well, there is a vast difference, I'm sure. Karakee's quite a serious little man. You just haven't got to know him, that's all. Well, we scarcely find much in common, I fear. Good heavens, Mr. Pellet. Surely you haven't sunk so low as to have forgotten everything we stand for out here? I've no use for any man, except Karakee. He's the only friend I ever have. But how do you know what is going on in that head of his? How can you tell? I don't have to. So far he's treated me right, that's enough. But you have no respect for... for the position the rest of us here must maintain. You disgrace us in the eyes of every native on this island. I'm impressed. Didn't know I was that important a figure, mummy. Tagara, whatever your name is. You are beyond reasoning with Mr. Pellet. You can go on trying, mummery, as long as the whiskey holds, eh? Have you no pride, ma'am? I cleaned out a bar in Sydney once, alone, against nine sailors. That's not exactly what... I engineered a mutiny about an Arab dow in the Gulf of Oman some years back. I sold a cargo at Bahrain for pretty figure, mummy, pretty figure. Well, that's certainly compounding a crime. That cargo was illegal in the first place, mummy. Slaves it was. Little boys and girls from India. Mr. Pellet, I must ask you once and for all... This bottle's almost finished, mummy. What do you want? Will you take a job if I offer you one? A job? Mummery, I stopped working nine years ago. I'm against working. All right. Then I must ask you to leave this island on the next boat. I like it here, mummery, and I'm staying here. Well, I can't make you go, I suppose. You suppose right. But I do have certain powers. The company controls the sale of liquor here, Mr. Pellet. And if I order that none be given you... You'd do that? I would. Unless I take a job of leaves, eh? Exactly. Well, I'm not working and I'm not leaving, mummery. Then you won't be boozing either, Mr. Pellet. Give me the rest of that bottle, girl. I've earned it. Good day, Mr. Pellet. That night, the order went out to serve Pellet no more rum. However, the alcohol he had taken on at the agent's house... saw him through until noon the next day. He awoke then with a terrible thirst, and by evening he was raging. You cannot cut off alcohol from a man who has been continuously drunk for nine years... without results more or less violent. Keraki, with the patience of a saint, bore the brunt of it all. Keraki, the little heathen from Bougainville. A place where some people were smoked and others eaten. It took two days of awful torture to break Pellet's spirit. And on the morning of the third, the man was shattered. Feel much better today, no? No, Keraki, it gets worse. Keraki, pulled a bus from ocean last night. You want to fight big fella shark? Drink blood, you say? It's out of my head, clean out of my head. Two, three weeks, you'll be fine once more, my word. I can't wait two, three weeks. I've got to have a drink, Keraki. I'd die if I don't get a drink. Wait a few days, all fine. You don't understand, Keraki, I can't make it. Go tell Mummry I can't make it. Tell him I'll leave on the next ship. No, no, no, no, can't leave. We're plenty much all the time good friend, Keraki and Pellet. I know, I know, but I'm no good dead, Keraki. You go tell him now. No, no, can't leave, wait. You tell him or I'll tell him, Keraki, but I'll have a bottle if I have to kill together. Not now. Sleep a long, long couple of hours, then go maybe. No, now. I've got to go myself. No, no, please, please. If you're not going to let go of me, I'll smash you. I'll have my rum and no man will stop me. No, can't leave. Not now, not now. Mummry, Mummry, Mummry. Mr. Pellet, please. Come in, man, come in. Mummry, Mummry, I need a drink. No, Mr. Pellet, not a drop here or anywhere else in Fufusha. Give me a drink, man. I'll get on your blasted ship. Oh, well then you agree to leave. Yeah, yeah. And on the next ship. Yes, on the next ship. You can have your rum, but you'll be on that ship when she sails. I'll be on it. Give me a drink, man, quick. No, you can get a drink at Mr. Howes. I'll send a message to him. Mummry, it was all I could do to get this far. I need a drink now. All right, Mr. Pellet, but just one. I will not have you disgracing me and my own husband. Yeah, take it. One more. No. Give me that bottle. Now, Mummry, if you come to Michael Howes with me, I'll buy you a drink. Thank you, Mr. Pellet. I'd rather not be seen in your company. Write a note to Howe. Tell him to sell me rum. I'll take it with me. Do you have to get drunk now, Mr. Pellet? Now. You back out of this and I'll kill you, Mummry. Now. All right, Mr. Pellet, but it will be a happy day for all of us when you're aboard that ship. I'll find me another island, Mummry. Maybe you'll be transferred there one day. God forbid. I'll write you your note, and I want to see no more of you till the day you leave. That's good enough for me. You're dull company, Mummry. At least I'm a gentleman, Mr. Pellet. I have enough respect for myself not to become a walking insult to me in my race. The note, Mummry, the note. You can come to Howes and preach to me. I don't mind it there. Hurry, man. Hurry. Hurry. You are listening to The Price of the Head, tonight's presentation of Escape. Sometimes it's fun to escape with an adventure story as you're doing now. At other times, it's fun to relax with music. Tomorrow on CBS Radio, you can enjoy the second in our series of Helsinki's festivals. The program will open with the Sibelius Symphony No. 5 in E-flat major, and continue with four more of his most impressive works. Enjoy easy listening on world music festivals tomorrow over most of these stations. And now back to Escape and the second act of The Price of the Head. In the days that followed, Pellet became a sodden lump of flesh preserved in alcohol. He did not smile, nor dance, nor exhibit any of the amiable eccentricities that sometimes recommend the drunken to a certain toleration. He was a brute, and he behaved like a brute. But all the time, waiting for the day the ship would arrive, Karaki remained true and showered more devotion than ever upon his friend. He spent his evenings outside Michael Howes' bar, patiently waiting for Pellet to get drunk enough to take along home. Night after night, Karaki waited, while the white man stood roaring inside. Boy Jack, bring me another bottle. Please, Mr. Pellet, close up now. You've plenty too much drunk already. Don't tell me when to drink. Look at that bottle. Jump. All right, Mr. Pellet, all right. I get bottle. I fix your bottle. And hurry it up, you bald clown. Who told you to open it? Next time I'll open the bottle. You should want a broken head, boy Jack. Where's Howe? Mr. Howe gone home. Where's the good rum? Yes, Mr. Pellet? It stinks. So do you. So does everyone on this bloody island. No like rum? Here's what I think of your rum. Now come here, boy Jack, because I'm going to crack your head. I'm going to crack your head. Karaki, Karaki. Take him along home now, Karaki. A few minutes later, the wiry little Karaki had the white man across his shoulder and bore him down the beach to the miserable shelter of pandanus leaves they called home. There he eased Pellet to a mat, bathed him with cool water, and carefully brushed the dirt from his bright red hair and whiskers. Then he sat by with a fan and kept the mosquitoes from the drunkard's bloated face. He sat there all night while Pellet slept. It was midday before Pellet awoke and groaned his way out of a painful fog of alcohol. Rum, rum Karaki, rum. Coconut more better, here, drink milk, feel fine soon. Feel fine sooner if I had some rum Karaki. Haven't you got a bottle around here son? No rum, you drank too much rum last night, too much Moy Jack rum. What do you mean, too much Moy Jack rum? Moy Jack put white powder in bottle, make you sleep. White powder, so that's it, what a little rat. Moy Jack him all the time laugh. I'll tear his throat out. Be careful, Moy Jack him all the time carry knife, cut face all up. Little wax man, I'll murder him, come on Karaki. You watch out for knife, and Moy Jack him plenty fast. I'll kill him. Watch him Pellet close, Pellet know get face cut. I'll handle him Karaki, don't you worry. Half in anger and half in anticipation of the pleasure of beating a man, Pellet staggered down the beach towards Howe's bar. It was the noon hour of repose and all Fufufuti was asleep. Pellet reached the bar and found Moy Jack dozing peacefully among the bottles. He woke him with a savage kick. Get up you dirty scum, get up so I can bust holes in you. Let me Mr. Pellet, let go. Not again you waltz. Now I cut you, cut you Mr. Pellet. Well you know, I'll just fix me a knife too. Come on Moy, I'm gonna twist this bottle around in your face. I'll learn you to fight with a red headed man. I'll learn you. He's dead. I killed him. I killed him like I said Karaki. Yes, dead. Plenty trouble now, police. Come on let's get out of here. Where we go Karaki, we gotta hide somewhere. You go long house on beach, wait there, me fix some boat. Leave Fufuti quick. What boat, you got no boat. Me find a boat, me hide, tell a friend Pellet. Alright, I trust you but hurry man, hurry. Pellet waited in terror in the shack on the beach while Karaki broke into the boat sheds and with an axe smashed the bottoms out of the three craft sheltered there. Then he opened the trade room and quickly gathered together a bundle of supplies including a rifle and a box of cartridges. Next he carried everything out onto the beach and loaded it into a stout outrigger canoe that belonged to Mr. Mummeray. Finally he fetched Pellet from the shack and together they hurriedly launched the canoe in the lagoon. Karaki rigged the big map sail and then paddled out into the breeze just beyond the harbor entrance. We made it Karaki, we're safe. Yes. Hey look, where we headed for anyway? What island we go Karaki? Bougainville. Bougainville, you crazy, that's 800 miles from here. Well the same, we go along my home. 800 miles? We go, all fine. Always one will bring you along my home. Alright Karaki, I don't know why you're doing it for me but I'll see you through. It was not the beginning of a very pleasant voyage for Mr. Christopher Pellet. The fear of being captured and hanged was great enough, but added to it were the horrors brought on once more by the lack of alcohol. The first night he was too seasick to care, but by morning he was raving. Rum, give me rum you blasted heathen. No, got him rum. You bloody fool, why didn't you pack in some rum? Need water, no need rum, got plenty water. Curse you Karaki, I don't drink water. Better you drink water. Well I won't. Turn back, I'll take hang under this turn back I tell you. Soon catch you more big fellow wind, blow straight to Bougainville. No, how could you find Bougainville anyway? No, we're going back I tell you. Karaki easily tied the weakened white man hand and foot and continued to sail off into the open sea. Now and then he threw a dipper full of sea water over the white man and occasionally fed him with coconut milk. Karaki was an excellent nurse. He even combed Pellet's red hair and whiskers twice every day. By the time they reached the Santa Cruz region Pellet's condition had improved and Karaki released him. They were now in an area peppered with tiny islets and Karaki decided to land on the lee of one in order to replenish their water supply. He had dropped sail and was paddling slowly into the beach when suddenly from out of nowhere a cutter carrying two white men appeared behind them. Ho ho, thief two. No catching Karaki and Pellet, don't go away, thief two. Put that gun down Karaki, we're in enough trouble now. Okay, I shoot. For some foolish reason the two white men did not believe a native would dare resist them and for their mistake they were both killed. Karaki however wasted no time sailing back into the open sea without his precious water and 29 days later he was doling out the few remaining drops to Pellet taking none for himself. His every gesture was one of sacrifice that his white companion might survive. Finally on the 36th day they sighted Choiseul and by noon they came ashore. There they stayed for a week, fattening themselves on the unlimited supply of coconut. So you think Bougainville is just under the horizon, eh Karaki? Yes. Mighty good thing too. You know there's the limit of British authority my boy. Big fella British master stop him here, no can go that side. Yes, no can punish Karaki for anything he do Bougainville side, my word. No catch Pellet, never. What makes you so sure of that? Me sabe. Well alright old chap, you got me this far I trust you. You know you're quite a fella Karaki? Yes. Sure don't talk much though. If I haven't made me mummery was right I'd sure like to know what goes on under that top knot of yours my boy. I'd like to tell you how grateful I am, which I could show you. Listen Karaki, me one big fella friend long you sabe. You one big fella friend long me sabe. Me two big fella friend always, what? Yes, my word. Karaki you kill me. Thus did Christopher Pellet express his gratitude to the quiet savage who had with rarest self sacrifice saved his life again and again. And now that he was thoroughly sober he could understand it no more than mummery had back in Fufuti. Two days later, under a beautiful dawn, they sailed into Boganville into a bay that was crystal blue and right up onto a dazzling white beach. Pellet was the first to shore and he ran up to a rocky point to see all the charm of the place for himself. Karaki, in his simple and efficient way, proceeded about his own affairs. He landed what was left of the supplies stolen at Fufuti. A few minutes after, Pellet heard a gentle footstep behind him and turned to find Karaki standing there with the rifle at his hip and the axe in his hand. Me like. Me like too. Great place you've got here Karaki. Me like I'm head. Huh? Oh, me like I'm you too Karaki. We big fella friend right? Me like I'm too much one fella head belong along you. What do you mean? I don't understand. Red hair, fine red whiskers, big prize here. Smoke him head. Make him Karaki big man on island. You mean you got my head? Fine head. Very fine head. Cut him off now. That was the way of it. That was all the mystery. In Karaki's country, a white man's head, well smoked, was indeed a prize. But that of Mr. Christopher Pellet with his precious red whiskers was a thing to be desired above the love of women. And the simple, patient enduring Karaki had served hard to win it. And did it really matter to Pellet how or why he died since his own race would have hanged him for murder anyway? Escape, produced and directed by David Friedkin and Morton Friene, has brought you The Price of the Head, a story by John Russell and adapted for radio by John Meston. Featured in the cast were Mary Jane Croft, Hans Conrad, Ben Wright and Jack Crouchon. Also heard were Clayton Post and Herb Butterfield. Your announcer, George Walsh. The special music for Escape is composed and conducted by Leith Stevens. Next week. There's a fortune in the cabin of an airplane crashed on an island somewhere in the Caribbean. And only you know where it is. By your side, sailing the treacherous channels, a smiling killer with a knife from whom there is no escape. So listen next week when Escape brings you E. Jack Newman's story, The Coward. There's music on Melody Ranch tomorrow on CBS Radio when the popular galloping cowboy with the golden voice returns. He's Gene Autry as singing a saddled man as ever rode the range. Meet Gene Autry at the old corral when he returns to Melody Ranch tomorrow on most of these same stations. Stay tuned now for Night Watch which follows immediately over most of these same stations. Where there's gun smoke, there's Western Adventure Monday nights on the CBS Radio Network. You
