 log entry to catch Scarlet Queen. Position, 123 degrees, eight minutes west, 37 degrees, 31 minutes north. Gyro compass course 237. Wind, fresh, sky, fair. Remarks, cleared port of San Francisco at 2.30 p.m. Failing delayed 19 hours due to death of first officer. Cause of death, the Shanghai secret. I stood there on the pier that evening. The ache in my frame reminding me that the last long, hard day of loading stores was behind me. And watched the china bound freighter feeling her way out into the fog-shrotted harbor. The Scarlet Queen nudged her fenders against the dock right below me. Her bright work shining like costume jewelry, even in the failing light. She was beautiful in her new white paint. And she was mine all 78 feet of her. She rose and fell just a little delicately. Lifting the carved wood figure under her bow spread out of the shadows now and then. Fresh young body looking forward, bold, teasing. Dressed in only a crown and painted brilliant red. The Scarlet Queen, a woman my own particular world revolved around. But that gray San Francisco evening wasn't cut out for romance between man and lacquered wood. I didn't hear him as he walked up behind me, but it didn't take me long to pick up the odor of the jail cell after he opened his mouth. You, Philip Carney? Yeah, that's right. I'm Kessel, San Francisco homicide. You know a man named David R. Malone? Yeah, he's my chief mate. What'd he do? He died. Come on, you gotta date a headquater. Wait a minute. A little sudden on a full stomach. What happened to him? The books are gonna call it murder by a person where a person's unknown. Homicide wants to know you better. And so mutual begins the voyage of the Scarlet Queen, written by Gildowd and Bob Talman and starring Elliot Lewis. The Scarlet Queen brought its chip to plow the seas bound for uncharted adventure. Every week a complete entry into the log, and every week a league further in the strange voyage of the Scarlet Queen. Your last name, first and middle initial. Carney, Philip M. Edge. Twenty-nine. Height. Six, two and a half. Weight. Two hundred and seven. Eyes blue, hair brown. Scars or other identifiers and marks? Yeah, a tattoo, a three strand turkset on my right bicep. A what? A three strand turkset at the knot, you know. Or to somebody else tie your shoelaces. Kessel, I'm getting awful sick of this. I'll have to answer the question. Address? The Catch Scarlet Queen. Street number? Street number, how? Here, 48, birth two in Barcadero, not permanent. That'll be enough for now, O'Brien. That might be a pretty permanent address at that, Carney. Not with me paying the rent. I got my port clearance and I'm leaving tomorrow. Maybe I, Carney. How long had you known Malone? Since, uh, about five days. Not about, Carney, how long? Five days. I signed him on five days ago. Uh-huh. When'd you see him last? Exactly. Uh, between 1230 and 1 this afternoon, I saw his stern end going around the warehouse at pier 48. He turned to the right, exactly. He went to room 218, the Crown Hotel on Columbus Avenue, with the North Beach section. Why? Because he's human, I suppose. They build hotels for people to go into. He didn't look human when we found him. Look, Kessel. I don't know anything about it. I'm sorry, Malone's dead. He was a nice guy. But that's all I can give you. If you want an alibi, I've got four seamen who loaded stores with me all day. That'll carry me to the time you tap me on the shoulder. What do you want, a halo? That's all right, that's all right. Just don't get sore, Carney. Hey, you want a cigarette? No, thanks. All I want is a cab back to the Embarcadero on you. Sure, sure. We'll take care of it. Just a couple more questions. Oh, stop. That patience act fits you about like a bare midriff evening gown. Why don't you get off and get comfortable? Thanks, Carney, I will. What could Malone have learned on your Scarlet Queen that somebody would go to a lot of trouble to get out of him? What are you talking about, Kessel? Malone was tortured. That's what I'm talking about for a good long time, and then somebody slipped and lost their temper. He didn't know anything. He didn't know why $50,000 was deposited in your name last year? I don't know what you're talking about. Hey, Barrett, bring Funston in. The name Funston rang just a faint bell for me, but I recognized the little guy they brought in all right. If there was anybody who knew about my banking business, he did. He worked there in the assistant cashier's office. Down there, he was just another face looking at you through rimless glasses. Here, he looked like trouble. Mr. Funston, is this the man you say received that $50,000 letter of credit? I'm sorry, Mr. Carney, but the police, you know. Yes, sir, he's a man. Remind me to bank someplace else next time. That's all, Mr. Funston. Thank you. I... I hope you understand, Mr. Carney. I had to answer the... Cast off, Funston. I'll thank you later. You guys have got long noses, haven't you? Yeah. When things smell as rotten as this. It was deposited in the San Francisco bank while you were in China with the Marines. Where are you getting this, Kessel? It was sent over as a letter of credit from a firm in Shanghai called Kang & Son. Most of it went to a local shipyard where the Scarlet Queen was built into a flock of coast companies for your cargo. $50,000, Mr. Carney, and a voyage to nowhere. I won it in a crap game and my articles say Honolulu. Honolulu. With enough stores aboard for a two-year cruise. Who do you think you're kidding, Carney? Why don't you talk? Why don't you get tired? You're pumping a lot of bilge flush. You're bluffing your heart out and you know it. Carney, you can go. It's about time. But, uh, you will be at Pier 48 when we want you. Before that, the Coast Guard's a cooperative outfit. Your port clearance has been revoked until this is cleaned up. I'll, uh, call you when I want you again. I would have traded places with any engine room hand on any Great Lakes oarship after I left Kessel. And I hate fresh water almost as much as I hate engine rooms. Kang had warned me when I signed with him in Shanghai. The opposition, he called him. An octopus with a body in an office building in Hong Kong. A brain called Constantino. And the tentacles groping across the world for the prize Kang was sending me after. A $10 million prize somewhere in the South Pacific. Its exact location was Kang's secret. And Constantino was ready to bribe, steal, or murder to get that secret. I didn't know who his San Francisco tentacle was, but I did know that it had killed Malone. I knew that he'd been tortured for something even I didn't know. The true destination of the Scarlet Queen. It was 7.30 by the time I got back to the Queen. I checked her mooring lines, one of them I capped and poured myself two quick stiff drinks and started the Queen of 45 automatic. I'd gotten out of the habit of wearing. If Constantino's machine had gone into operation, I figured it might be a healthy habit to get back into. I had it stripped and spread out on my desk. And that's when I met Gallagher. Big Red Gallagher. Hello, Skipper. Who the devil are you and how'd you get a boy? I wanted to talk to you. I'm Red Gallagher. Where's my gangway watch? He's got orders, nobody a boy. He tried, Skipper, don't blame him, but you know how it is. I wanted to talk to you. He didn't have to explain. He held up a hand about the size of a field of glove and rubbed the knuckles as if they were bruised. He didn't have to say any more. He was about my size wearing a shapeless, stained white duck officer's cap, faded dungarees, and a jumper with the sleeves rolled up. His face was heavy-featured, but not flat. His eyes gray and set off by crow's feet wrinkled and squinting into the sun. And they were laughing at me. But no harm done, Skipper. He hasn't hurt bad. Maybe he wasn't big enough to put you over the side. Now, wait a minute, Skipper. Take it easy. We'll just bust up a lot of furniture and lose a lot of skin that way. Don't be so jumpy. All right, unload in a hurry and get out of here then. What do you want? I hear you're looking for a new chief mate, and I want to sign on. Where did you hear I was looking for a new chief mate? I got a friend at the mall. He keeps me a beam of these things. Is the rest of the story for sale? What story, Skipper? Is there something I should know? I don't like your trim, Gallagher. Maybe it's because you think you can get a birth after knocking my crewman around. Maybe it's because I think you're lying in your teeth. Either way, I wouldn't get into a dory with you. Wait a minute, Skipper. I was made for this trip. I know that's self-specific. How do you know where I'm going? Maybe that solid beauty under your bouse bridge whispered to me. You're too nosy for me, Gallagher. Get your sea boots off the ship. I'm manned and loaded and ready to shove since I get clearance. When do you think that'll be, Skipper? What do you mean by that? There you go. Get in jumpy again. That was a civil question. I just wanted to know how long. That's all. It'll be as quick as I can make it. Yeah. I guess I can't blame you for that. But maybe it'll be long enough for me to try again. You need me on this ship, Skipper. I've lived a long time without you. Keep your eye on the newspaper shipping columns, Gallagher. That's as close as you'll come to my sailing. After he left, I reassembled the 45. Checked my naval code on the disposition and effect of deceased seamen and started to get Malone's gear together. In the pocket of one of his coats, I found a match folder from the Gorgonio, a bar advertising pre-war liquor and continuous entertainment. On the inside, somebody had written a name, Helen, and a number that straightened me up like a right to the chin. It was 218, the number of the murder room at the Crown Hotel. 20 minutes later, I was at the Gorgonio. It was a typical non-tourist North Beach bar. Good, healthy fisherman up from Fisherman's Wharf. Three women at the bar, and one sitting at the electric organ up on a platform. None of them had Helen printed on their backs, but the only one whose name anyone would bother writing down was the girl making with the music. Honey-colored hair with a gardenia over the left ear, white shoulders pushing out of the whiter gown, a face full of confidence in the rest of it. And no wonder, after I finished my drink, I walked back toward her. Say, excuse me, but would your name be Helen? Well, it's a novel approach, isn't it? Should I go back and try it over with Irene or Penelope? What's the difference? You'd end the same way. Can I play something for you? This one suits me. If I could talk to you through it. Can't for the life of me see what we'd have to talk about. Maybe some other time we can get around to that. But I ran into an old mate of mine yesterday. He mentioned this place, and you and I would like to locate him. His name is Dave Malone. Do you know him? Malone? Sure he said he knew me. Yeah, I thought so, but maybe he was just hoping, huh? Yeah. I'm afraid that must have been it, because I don't know any Dave Malone. Yeah, well, it was one of those things. He mentioned your name, so I thought I'd give it a try, but I'll coast around. Maybe I'll come back on my own sometime. I hope you do. I'll be here. Wear that dress, will you? I had another drink at the bar and kept my eyes off but just enough to catch her looking at me with more than a professional look once or twice. She did go off guard right after I threw Malone's name at her. I was sure of it. I finished my drink and went out the door like I had some place to go. But I stopped right after I got out of range and the windows counted five and eased back so I could just look in. She was leaving the platform. And I, along with the good healthy fishermen, watched her sway that white gown back to the phone booths. It wasn't taking no long to contact somebody about me contacting her. It was just chance so far, but they were Malone, Helen and 218, the number of the murder room at the Crown Hotel. It could have been coincidence, but there isn't much room on the back of a match folder. The Crown Hotel was a narrow, brownstone front building squeezed between two more narrow brownstone front buildings. I looked in at the musty lobby. It was empty. I tried the door once to see if it was going to ring a bell someplace. When nobody showed up, I went in. There was a dingy brown hunting scene hung on one wall and a dingy brown smell of bad ventilation hanging over everything. There was an immodest calendar from a Reno Gambling Club wasting its time behind the desk. And a register book that had seen more lives than one shot and I flipped the pages back to the day before. Found Room 218. It was registered to one John Smith. And just on impulse, I flipped back to the current date and found myself on top of the whole mess. Sprawled in an awkward hand against Room 218 was the single name Gallagher. All I needed to keep me going up those stairs, all I had to remember to enjoy bringing that 45 out of my shoulder holster was a picture of that wide grin in those gray eyes. I'd have gone through that door even if it hadn't been unlocked. Come on in. I'm in, brother. What's all the hardware for, Skipper? Why are you always making for a beef when you and I run into one another? Let's throw that warm friendship, shall we? Let's you do a little talking that you mean for a while. I never say anything I don't mean, Skipper. You'll learn that when you know me better. That's what I'm here for, Gallagher. So start saying something you mean. Sure. Why do you think I took this room if I wasn't sure you'd be pulling around this neighborhood tonight? What interests me most is that you did. You like it, Skipper? I know you've got to have Malone's murderer before you can clear San Francisco and I can give him to you. They call him Mr. Fox. He's working for Constantino. If you didn't know that before, you know it now. Who's Constantino? You're being cagey, Skipper, and that's all right. You don't know what to say because you don't know how much I know. I don't know how much you know, so we're even, right? You're talking. So Fox didn't learn what he wanted to learn from Malone. He tried too hard. So he paid me two grand to sign on with you. I was supposed to find out what part of the southern oceans you were making for and the payoff was going to be a grand a month. But just keeping the finger on you and waiting to be contacted. It was an easy deal. Somebody in your family must have been born with shark fins not too far back. There was supposed to be a great uncle under the Jolly Rogers, Skipper, but no fins yet, but I got reason. I'm telling you this because if they'd pay off like that for just a line on you, I figure the reel, though, is going to be made on your side. You got to hold us something big. I still want to ship with you, but for you. Well, I'm a dirty... I'm telling you, Gallagher, for the price of the queen, I can't tell you who's crazy in this room. Nobody is, Skipper. You're going to be a head-toon. Believe me, you are. I can help you clear up the mess here, and, Crisco, I'll put you next to the Fox and his mermaids. Huh? Her name Helen? How'd you get that? It isn't hard to find. Well, that's right. Helen Curran. She led Malone to this room with a smile and a promise. Yeah. Neither one would look good from her. I know I was there. She's seen you? Did you tell her who you were? Are you nuts? Then it'll work. Listen, but tonight you're the chief maid of the Scarlet Queen. You beat me out of the berth. If you'll go for that story, I'll get you Malone's killer. Or put me on a morgue slab for another two grand. I trust you like I trust a compass at the North Pole. It'll take you a month to get him without me, Skipper. With you under homicide's third degree? Even then. Now, here's my deal, and we both make headway. I get the maid's berth and you get your port clearance. But we got to have a bait. That's you. And we got to have somebody who can put it in the right place. That's me. You got the 45. Take a gamble, Skipper. I'll show you how it works. It was about a quarter of 11 when I pulled my left ear for luck the last time, followed him down to the lobby, took my last look at that Reno calendar. Gallagher looked like he was enjoying putting me on the block, and the only reason I could dream up for playing soccer was the idea that as long as I kept the line on him, I was at least secure to something. He squeezed me into the phone booth with him when he put the bait on the hook. He held the receiver so I could get my ear into it too and called Helen Curran at the Gorgonio. Hello, baby. This is Red. Oh, it's his odd time. I thought you were coming in. And something came up. Did you get the gardenia? Sure. Sure, I'm worried right now. When can I show you how much I like it? Don't talk like that when I'm so far away. Listen, things got foul tonight, but I think they'll work out anyway. What happened, Red? I missed that maid's berth by about 15 minutes. A guy by the name of Pritchard beat me to it. Red, the fox isn't going to like this. I think he will. Did a guy come in there tonight looking for Dave Malone? Yeah. Why, Red? That was Pritchard. And he's got the information we want. That sounds funny, Liz. He stuck his head in a bar where I was and I recognized him. He knows where they're headed. I could have maybe pumped him for it, but I thought it'd be better if you and the fox were in on it, too. Yeah. Where is he? On his way back to the Gorgonio to see you. He's big. So I better tag along for the party, don't you think? Maybe in Europe, and later, if you can get him there. And I think you can. All right, Red. Give me a half hour to get through to the fox and call me back. I'll let you know when he'll pick you up, okay? Yeah, but, uh, baby, take it easy till I get there. I don't want that gardenia crushed on anybody's shoulder, but mine. Ellen Curran knew her business. She didn't go overboard selling herself, but, like nature taking its course, she and the white gown and I got into a cab at the closing time. Her apartment was in the Buell Arms on Russian Hill. It was a little overdone in modernizing a setup that was dull mid-Victorian a few years back. Light walls with Venetian blinds, some flamingos and parakeets flying through verdant jungles and framed before they started, and a bedroom to the right that she went into saying something about something comfy. When she came back, I saw clearly that she went for off-the-shoulder hostess gowns too. Fair enough. I feel more comfortable. Mm-hmm. What's the matter with me anyway? Is that something? I always seem to stir the wrong approach in you. Or are you just shy? With you, you don't need an approach. You just move naturally. You aren't shy at all, are you? You're just overconfident. You've been spoiled by women. Never hurt me. But then it's not very often as appealing as your brand. Do you think I'll spoil you? Mm-hmm. But I wonder if you'd hurt me. Not even if I could, and I... Hey, wait a minute. Couldn't hurt you if I wanted to, could I? I don't know, but from where I sit, who cares? Like I said, she knew her business. And I had to keep remembering that it wasn't all crushed gardenias tonight. We finally did get around to a drink out of a retan-covered bottle, and I could tell by the heavy, littered look she gave me over a glass that I was supposed to be a complete victim and as neat as a kitten with a full belly. She knew her business. But knowing that she knew her business, I went along with the kitten act. But I was as ready as a tiger when Gallagher opened the door. But I wasn't ready for the man he brought with him, it was Funston. L.B. Funston still looking through the rimless glasses, but now his eyes were steely hard and it only took one deep breath to realize that he was the fox. He had a small caliber gun out of an inside pocket faster than I could get my breath. Wait a minute, Gallagher. This man's name is not Richard. What do you mean? I know it. Something went wrong. This guy's Bill Carney, the master of the Scarlet Queen. I was sitting on the couch and after a sell-out like that, there was no use standing up. Helen left me like I'd broken out with the purple pox and Gallagher still stood behind Funston looking at me with that grin. Fred, Fred, he's the one who was in the scene me earlier. Never mind, Helen. He isn't the guy I talked to. Never mind, I said. You are an impulsive man, Carney. A little surprise that you too, Funston. What are you doing here? I like a game of bridge as well as the next guy. You play a stupid game. You should remember that your red queen is not the top of the suit. She'll do. She'll never win a trick. You'll never use her. Do you know what I mean? Yeah, I know what you mean. But you're bluffing, Funston. Either that or you're double-crossing Constantino and talking to yourself. Fighting to stay clear of Malone's murder. I want more than talk! You're still bluffing. You don't want to hurt me because with me out of the way, Constantino's octopus has nothing to follow. Wise up! You don't scare me. I'm too valuable. All right. I'll pay you $25,000 for the destination of your Scarlet Queen. I can't hear you. There are other methods, Carney. Now you're bluffing again. You'd never get it that way either. And what did Constantino say if you laid me next to Malone? That's something I'll have to find out. At the moment, that looks better than a rest for murder. Stand up, Carney. You're really on a spot, Funston. You're even getting the double-cross from your own people in this room. Now who's bluffing, Carney? I mean, you're getting it from Gallagher. He know who I was tonight. Gallagher! Why do you have to rush things? I'm all right, Skipper. I'll take him. Watch the money. I raced her across the room to a table. She had a drawer open and a nickel-plated revolver half out of it by the time I grabbed her. Come on, sister! I crossed her across the room and had that $45,000 out before she landed. I twisted a look at Funston. Gallagher had hit him hard enough to keep him from opening until Christmas. He was tangled up with a throw-rug and not thinking about a thing. Oh, well, Skipper, there's your court clearance and my chief makes both spread all over the room. Yeah. Now what's the devil with the idea of you leaving me to shake hands with that gun of Funston for so long? I had to do it, Skipper, to keep him off guard. He knew our story was fishy before I got him up here. He knew? Yeah. He knew you hadn't signed on the chief maid. He had good spies. Where'd he find that out? Right. He got it by being the honest banker. Huh? Eager to play along with the police. He kept in touch with your friend at Homicide Castle. Yeah. I knew that castle was a good man, but we're a great team, Skipper. We're standing up and they're laying down. But Constantino isn't with them. We'll hear from him again. Keep an eye on him, will you? I got a proud call to make to Homicide. By two the next afternoon, we cast off from Pier 48 and were headed out. We went through the Golden Gate under power, sitting on the wheel box with the bottle between us. We followed the channel boys out to the far alongs, picking up that good, deep water roll, and the driving westerlies started to sing through the rigging. I felt like a man getting his back out of a canton walking again. The crew perked up too, and they fell to with the will when Gallagher started walling on them. Even though what he'd slugged had a pulse on the bottle and shook hands with them. They took their stations to the main road. The man had to hide his place in a way smartly, and the head of the main supply, the deck beneath me, hold over the porch. I was glad to be free too. Her teeth and charged every swell, as though she were carrying on a one-woman war with the whole Pacific. Your skipper was showing eight knots on the taff rail line. Good enough. We're full and vital nightfall, and to get us to Kauui Channel in less than 14 days. That's less than 14 nights. What's the run from there? That'll depend on the wind and other circumstances. Japan, the coast of China, then south across the line to the shallow sea. How long are we going to be down there? We may never get there, so who cares how long it'll be? Not me. I'm not married. You are now, mate. For the Scarlet Queen, the bigger mess. Oh, better let me take the wheel then. We've got to have a honeymoon sometime. Sure, take over. No wedding day, and you'll make a handsome couple. Believe me, you'll do. Log entry. Catch Scarlet Queen. 5.30 p.m. Miles traveled 31. Wind brisk. Sky fair. Sea cresting with high cross swell. Mainland mizzen reef. Ship secure for night. Signed Phillip Carney. Master. The voyage of the Scarlet Queen has come to you through the worldwide facilities of the United States Armed Forces Radio and Television Service.