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It is well past midnight now, and I write these words so that other men may know the full story of that ill-fated voyage of the deep-sea tug alphabet. Ours was not a large vessel, but sturdily built for its task, and though it seems an age, it was only a little over six months ago that we sailed from Liverpool, England, bound out across the North Atlantic to deliver our ship to her new owners, a salvage firm of Boston, Massachusetts. Stand by to cost off! We put out with a reduced compliment, just a handful of men, 12 and all. We were a new crew sent on board for this journey over the deep-sea lanes, and I sailed as chief officer under the command of Captain Godfrey Walker, second made Harvey Goodrum and chief engineer Alec McTavish, being the other members of our small saloon. I remember we departed on a cold wet day with a fog lying low over Birkenhead, and the northwest wind blowing fresh in our teeth. On the port! As the drab gray of the Liverpool dark side dropped back into the soaking mists, I doubt if any man aboard could have foretold what lay ahead over those 3,000 miles of heaving sea. When we had cleared the light ship, I went into the wheelhouse where Captain Walker searched the channel ahead, his deep black eye staring out from under his shaggy eyebrows. I saw him, his huge frame bundled in a salt-stained great coat. Mr. Marshland, everything's secured proceed? Yes, sir. Everything on deck is lashed down as tight as a whistle. Good, good. We may get a dirty crossing this time of the year. Oh, it should be uncomfortable, sir. When it comes to ships, I'm used to something a little bigger. You're on no 10,000 ton an hour, mister. If we hit it heavy, there'll be many a man on board who wish he'd never left the dockside. Oh, I think the crew can take it, sir. Yeah, maybe, mister, maybe. A few days out and we'll see. Keep it to our course, quartermaster. All right, sir. All right, Mr. Marshland, you can take her now. Very good, sir. Your course is south-seventy-west. South-seventy-west, sir. See these helmsmen, keep her on the course. I'll be back in the cabin if you want. Aye, aye, sir. Oh, the skipper, sir. Is he? Aye. Fear gives me the creeps he does. Oh, he's probably harmless enough. He used to bigger commands than this, I imagine. Ah, but our people watch on him, sir, far with you. People watch on him. Why? Why? If you don't know now, sir, you will find out soon enough. South-seventy-west, check your course. South-seventy-west, it is, sir. Marshland, sir, you sent for me? Take a chair, mister. Thank you, sir. No, not... Certainly, sir. Yes, sir. Is there anything wrong? No, no, no, no, nothing's wrong. I just want to talk to you, discuss the affairs of the ship with you, give you some idea of what I expect. Oh, here, cigarette? Oh, thank you. Oh, by the way, you will not use that ashtray on your right. No, you will not use it. You may place your ash carefully on the other one. Uh, this one? Yes, yes, that one. Here we are. How long since you had your last birth, mister? Why, uh, it's been some time, sir. Fort Captain says you know me. Well, uh, only by reputation, sir. Would it surprise you to learn that I know something of you by reputation, mister? Why, uh, I don't exactly... We ought to make quite a pair, mister, quite a pair. Oh, well, no matter. Now, I shall tell you the reason I summoned you to my cabin, Mr. Marshland. You will find, if you do not know already, that I have very definite ways I wish things to be done, very definite ways. First of all, I demand complete and questioning obedience. Of course, sir. I'm sure you'll get the fullest cooperation from myself and the crew. Good, good. I want that to be perfectly clear. I also insist that your supervision of the work on this should be done in a certain manner, I shall prescribe. All items of work will be carried out in alphabetical order. Alphabetical order, sir? Precisely. Starting with A and carrying through to Zend. I'm afraid I don't understand, sir. I think my meaning is perfectly clear. If the hands are painting ship, they will start with the alleyways and all other items beginning with A. Then the bulkheads, then the decks and so forth. Uh-oh. You understand me now, mister? Oh, yes, yes, sir. I think I understand, but I'm afraid I don't quite see your reason. Mr. Marsh! My reasons are not to be questioned. You will remember while I'm in command of this vessel, I hold the power of life and death. Well, sir? He was sitting across from me on the small satir of his cabin. His massive face half hidden in the shadows. His eyes piercing into mine. In the nearness of him, I could see the bloodshot veins like thin red tracings against the white. The man was mad. Higgins was right. He was mad. Yes, life and death. I looked about his cabin. There was something inhuman in its ordered neatness as if the warmth of man had not touched it. I saw the book stacked evenly in the bookshelf. I saw the titles arranged in alphabetical order. It was a pattern completing itself. The desk, the bunk, a maculet, not a wrinkler speck of dust visible to the naked eye. On the bulkhead were four photographs and largements of outdoor scenes. With a start I realized they too were in perfect order. Arranged according to the seasons from left to right. Spring, summer, autumn, winter. My eyes darted about me again and on the shelf above his bunk I saw three cameras. They also fitted the pattern. The smallest on the left, the largest on the right. I remembered the chair and the ashtray and turned towards him as he spoke again. He's then perfectly clear, Mr. Marshall. Yes, sir. Perfectly clear. Good, good. Now, one final thing. I insist that the quartermasters taking the wheel appear in sequence of the first letter of their surnames. But, sir, that will mean rearranging the watches. Surely the balance. Who is I order? Very good, sir. The watches will be changed. That's better, much better. Well, mister, now that we understand one another, I'm talking about the ship. I see you've noticed my photographs. Well, I can't say I know much about it, sir, but I'd say they're excellent. Of course they're excellent. I took them myself, a hobby of mine. You may have noticed I have three cameras. Two of them are of German make, the other American. The medium-sized one in the middle I use with infrared film. Comparatively recent development. The other two are used for general purposes. Are you interested in photography, Mr. Marshall? No, I can't say I am particularly, sir. I've never done anything like that for a hobby. Very well, if you're not interested, you may go. Well, I didn't mean that I was... That is in order, Mr. Marshall, and you will now go. Stumbled into the cold darkness outside, the thoughts tumbling unendingly through my head as I made my way to my cabin. We were pushing our way over the restless waters of the North Atlantic with a madman in command. In the morning of the third day, the second officer came running onto the bridge and plung himself excitedly into the wheelhouse. Mr. Marshall, I'd like a word with you. Go ahead, Goodrum. What is it? Would you come outside? I can't tell you here. Certainly. What in the world is the matter with you? It's the wireless operator, sir. Abercrombie. He's gone. You mean he's disappeared off the ship? Disappeared. Maybe. But I wouldn't wonder if there was a better name for it than that, sir. What do you mean? I mean murder. Abercrombie was gone, vanished without a trace from the decks of the alphabet. And although I didn't have the feeling myself, there was an uneasiness within the crew now. They seemed furtive, frightened, and they quietly drifted out of sight whenever the captain made an appearance on the deck. You could see they feared him and somehow connected his madness with the disappearance of the wireless operator. That night, I stood in the darkness of the wheelhouse, the faint light from the binocular shining on the face of Higgins as he stood his trick at the wheel. It's a rub, go sir. Abercrombie didn't just fall over the side by himself. Mock my words on that. Oh, come now, Higgins. Many a man has disappeared from shipboard, swept over the side by a sea. Ah, sir, on a stormy night that may be. But last night was pretty quiet one. Just a little kisser rain. Done in he was, sir. Why, what reason? Reason? No one had no reason, sir. Except maybe the queer one. The queer one. Ah, the skipper, sir. Good heavens, man. Are you accusing the captain of... He's not a normal man, sir. I wouldn't be too loud about the captain, Higgins. You can't accuse people without evidence. Well, keep me tough. But the skipper's obvious rocker. You know that as well as I do, sir. Oh, he's got some set ideas about things, that does alphabetical ideas, sir. Well, yes, but... Ain't you thought of this, sir? His name, Abercrombie. Whatever. Beginning with the hay. The first letter of the alphabet. Abercrombie was the first. But he won't be the last. He won't be the last. For suspense, Roma Wines are bringing you Mr. John Lund in murder aboard the alphabet. Roma Wines' presentation tonight in Radio's Outstanding Theatre of Thrills. Suspense. Suspense. Radio's Outstanding Theatre of Thrills is being brought to you by Roma. That's R-O-M-A. Roma Wines. America's largest selling wines. When it's 90 in the shade and there's no shade, that's the time to enjoy tall, tinkling glasses of ice cold Roma wine and soda. Yes, treat your family and friends to the first crunching goodness of Roma wine and soda. So simple. Have filled tall glasses with any Roma wine, such as robust Roma burgundy or delicate Roma saterne. Fill up with cracked ice and soda, sweetened to taste. Then take a long cooling sip and smile. You'll discover why Roma wine and soda is so cool to come home to. Especially when the weatherman says warmer. And remember, for better taste, always enjoy Roma wines. That's R-O-M-A. Roma Wines. The greatest name in wines. And now Roma wines bring back to our Hollywood soundstage. John Lund as Fertmaet Marshalen and Joseph Kearns as Captain Walker in Murder Abored the Alphabet. A play well calculated to keep you in suspense. Needless to say, the conclusions of the men were no surprise to me. But I didn't feel the time was ripe for further action. On the evening of the following day, the barometer started dropping and next morning saw the low-grade clouds scutting swiftly before the wind and the alphabet laboring heavily in the rising sea. It was at eight bells in the morning watch, the sixth day of sea. Who's there? It's MacTobes, Mr. Mead. Well, come in, Chief. Take a chair, Chief. What is it? You look bothered. Butterfield, Mr. He's lost. Lost? Aye. Are you sure, MacTobes? Aye, I'm sure enough. We've searched for him all around the ship. There's near place, Mr. Have you informed the Captain? Ah, the old man. Didn't you think he knows it? Come on. There's another man gone, sir. Butterfield. Butterfield, eh? Aye, sir. How long have you known this, Mr. The Chief Engineer informed me only a few moments ago, sir. Are you sure of this, Mr. I'm sure. There's near trace of him anywhere aboard the ship. Very well, Mr. You may go. I wish to speak to the Chief Officer alone. Butterfield, sir. Go, Mr. That's an order. Aye, sir. I'll be off. Aye, Mr. I'm afraid this is beyond me, sir. No, I'm not referring to the Engineer, Mr. He's obviously disappeared. There's nothing we can do about it. Well, why are you standing? Why don't you sit down? Well, I... Thank you, sir. Yes, it's Thursday. Let me sit in the armchair. Thank you. Well, what do you think of my ship now? Do you still find it uncomfortable? Oh, no, sir. I like her very well. I thought a long time before I shipped aboard. Oh, you did, eh, Mr. Well, she's small, but then any ship to ship, eh. I'd like something a little more, but then... then the sea is the lady that counts. Am I right? That's right, sir. You love her. You love her very much, don't you, Marshal? I do. Yes, I do. You're young, but you love her more than anything? More than anything. More than his, uh, more than his natural? Captain A. And now you're seated. Would you like to inspect my cameras and tell me what you think of them? Well, I'm afraid I don't know a great deal about that sort of thing, sir. Oh, you know nothing about them. Hey, good you may leave my cabin. Certainly, sir. I shall look into the Butterfield matter. He's left the ship, mister. You're only wasting your time. Now go. For the second time, I left the cabin of that strange man. I left him alone with his madness, and steadying myself against the roll of the ship, walked the deck, thinking my own thoughts. It was that night that Higgins came to me in my cabin. I bet he meant her, and he settled his wizened body down upon my armchair. I was lying in my bunk, watching him as he sat there, awkwardly twisting his cap in his hands. It's an unusual request I have, sir. I hope I can speak in confidence, like... Go on, Higgins. Whatever you have to say will be just between the two of us. What's that? We think the skipper should be put away, sir. Put away? What do you mean? Locked up, sir. But he can't arm us. You know that's mutiny. Ah, it's mutiny, but... But Mr. Marshland, he'd murder us all. Evercromby, Butterfield. He'll go clear on down the alphabet if we don't stop him. There's no proof. Well, the lads are sure enough. Are they? Just give us the word, sir. And we'll help you. We'll put him away. Very well, Higgins. Keep it among yourselves, but you can tell the men this. If there's any more trouble, I'll take matters into my own hands. You can rest assured of it. Thank you, sir. They ate by the mutiny, but are either caught in the world as ever would convict you at it. No. No, Higgins. I don't think there is. It had to be done very carefully. And for quite a while, I lay back upon my bunk. Thinking of what Higgins had said. It would be risky, but the men were behind me. That would more than sway the balance. Higgins was right. Any court of law would see the wisdom of my action. They would never convict from mutiny. And Captain Walker would be locked away forever. We continued on our way. And in the hull of the wind and the long seas, he would sense the cold hand of fear that had settled over the alphabet. By the evening of the seventh day, we stood well out on our great circle track, more than halfway between Liverpool and Boston. We plunged through dirty seas, rising to each crest and falling to the trough below, with the water curling green over the flare of our blocked bowels. But we made fair time and the knots slipped steadily astern. It was during the inky blackness of that night that death struck again on the decks of the alphabet. And another member of our dwindling band then disappeared into the unknown. Abercrombie, Butterfield, and now the third man. His name was Chadwick. Who's that? Oh, good evening, sir. Dirty weather, sir. Be getting below, sir. Would you please let me by? I want to go below. You dropped something, sir. Never mind. I'll get it. Hey, don't you, Mr. Marshland? You are too, aren't you, Captain? I thought I heard a scream. Oh, did you now, mister? Did you? Yes, sir. You all know why you're here. Yes, sir. The legs now. We're with you, mister. We'll stop his tricks, we will. Good. Now we must do this quietly and quickly. There must be no bungling, understand? Yes, sir. All right. Here goes. Captain Walker, will you come on deck a minute? Well, mister, what is it you are? Come out here, sir. I want to show you something. Take your hand, mister Marshland. Never mind that, men. Captain, stay where you are. This gun is loaded. So now it's mutiny. Marshland, you'd better... Shut up. One move and I'll shoot. And you'll get my knife in your gizzard. Mr. Marshland, these are skipping out. You'll swing for this, Marshland. You and all the rest. You really think they'll hang a mate for mutiny when they can hang a captain for murder? We sailed into Boston Harbor with Captain Walker Lash securely to a chair in his cabin. After the first brief struggle, he had grown quieter. And during the last days of our voyage, he had just sat there. Silently, saying nothing. A strange, mad smile, leering from his lips. We arrived in Boston late in the afternoon. And as we sailed up the harbor, we hoisted the international signal calling for the harbor police. After we had docked alongside, I went up to his cabin to ensure that all was in readiness for the arrival of the police. And as I stood over him, bound there in his chair, his eyes seemed to mark me, his smile taunting me. So, Mr. Marshland, this is to be the success of your little plan, eh? I have nothing to say to you, Captain. The police will be aboard at any moment. You think I'm mad, don't you? But you've bungled it badly, Mr. You've bungled it very badly. Have I? Who's that? Police! Police! Come in, come in! Officer, this man has come... Yes, you've bungled it, Mr. Marshland. Why weren't you content to let me be with my madness? As I was content to let you be with yours. Oh, we'd have made quite a pair, as I told you. If you hadn't bungled it. What are you talking about? I know all about you, Mr. Under a bit of a cloud, eh? Haven't shipped for quite a while. Not the first vessel you've been on where men have disappeared in the black of the night, eh? Oh, but I wouldn't have cared. No, I like your methods, business-like. By the letters, by the alphabet. You are mad. Take him away, officer. Yes, mad, quite. But you should have taken more interest in my photography, Mr. My infrared film, for instance. You can take pictures on the darkest night. Would I have one, Mr. An excellent likeness? A likeness? Of you, Mr. The night you pushed Chadwick over the side. The police have been very understanding. They could readily understand how a man could hate and fear the sea and yet love it, like a woman. Love it enough to follow it and hunger for it and make every sacrifice. Even human sacrifice. But now they say they must send me away to a place where the sea can no longer torture me. A place of no land or sea or wind or rain, but only rest. Can you pray? Yes. To the sea. Only to the sea. Suspense. Murder aboard the alphabet, starring John Lund, presented by Roma Wines. That's R-O-M-A. Those better tasting Roma Wines. America's favorite wines. Yes, Roma Wines taste better, because Roma brings you the captured natural richness of California's choicest grapes, gently pressed and guided, unhurriedly, with ancient skills and America's greatest winemaking resources to tempting taste luxury. These better tasting Roma Wines are placed with mellow Roma Wines of years before. And from these, the world's greatest wine reserves, Roma later selects for your enjoyment. This weekend, share with your friends the hospitality of delicious Roma California wine. Before dinner, serve nut-like Roma sherry. After dinner, enjoy rich, broody Roma port. Yes, the better taste of choice, Roma Wines, tells you why Roma, that's R-O-M-A. Roma Wines are enjoyed by more Americans than any other wines. John Lund will soon be seen in Paramount's 36-star production, Variety Girl. Tonight's Suspense Play was by Charles Turrell. Next Thursday, same time, you will hear Lloyd Nolan as star of Suspense. Produced and directed by William Spear for the Roma Wine Company of Fresno, California. Don't forget, next week Suspense will present Lloyd Nolan, the following week Edmund O'Brien. Make it a point to listen each Thursday to Suspense Radio's Outstanding Theatre of Thrills. This is CBS The Columbia Broadcasting System.