 The Mutual Broadcasting System presents The Mysterious Traveller, written, produced, and directed by Robert A. Arthur and David Cogart, and presenting tonight to a radio's foremost personality, Frank Barron and Roger DeCove, in Death at Fifty-Thousand. The Mysterious Traveller, inviting you to join me on another journey into the realm of the strange and the terrifying. I hope you will enjoy the trip, that it will grill you a little and chill you a little. So settle back, get a good grip on your nerves, and be comfortable, if you can. For tonight, we're going to venture into the dangerous depths of the Atlantic, where a group of desperate men caught in a strange dilemma. It's a story I call Death at Fifty-Thousand. In the last few weeks, you saw those headlines, Mystery Sub sighted off the Pacific Coast, and traitor banishes as Mystery Sub is sighted and all the others. Well, Joe Briggs read them too, as well as heard the story one evening when he dropped into the corner bar near the radio repair shop. Total damage caused by the fire was close to a million miles. Hi, Joe. Well, it'll be... Um, give me a glass of vodka beer. Okay, one vodka, one up. Hey, what's that news commentator saying about a Mystery Sub? Let me listen to that. Hmm. However, official circles regard this story as being clamped at... and the summary of the last minute news has been brought to you by... Mystery Submarine, Hitler, Hyden and South America. What do they think of that? Yeah, it's screwy, all right. But I could tell you a story that's even screwier. I know what happened to Hitler, and where he is now. Yeah. What's the Russians found his body when they captured Berlin? Maybe they found a body, but it wasn't his. Whose was it? A double. Hitler did try to get away by submarine, see, and just... You wouldn't believe it if I told you. Try me and see. Okay. Only, uh, I never told it before, you see. Not even to my buddies when I was in the Navy. Why should I be called nuts and sent up for observation? So, uh, don't believe me. Just call it, um, a story. And you can stand me a beer when I finish, eh? All right, Joe. It's just a story. Check. Well, it began the night after the war in Europe ended. I was in the Navy then. I was a radio operator on board the destroyer Spindrip. It was late at night, and I was half asleep in the radio room. I had a fever over my ears when I heard it. A voice that seemed to come whispering out of no place. Hello? Hello? Can you hear me? Can anybody hear me? Please? If you can hear me... The voice faded out again. It was a German voice talking English good. I turned the controls and it came back stronger. Hello? Hello? The voice and the riner of the Wunderseed boat Wolf. Anybody who may be picking up this message, please listen. Nobody can help us. But it makes it easier to talk. Easier to face what's coming. Easier to face the dead. Yes, dead. We are doomed, and we know it. And yet only yesterday, we thought all danger was past. Yes, just yesterday afternoon. As we were cruising on the surface, recharging our batteries, we thought our mission was as good as accomplished. Captain Metz was on the bridge with our very special passenger, who called himself Schmidt. Though of course we all knew who he was. A beautiful day, Captain. Particularly gratifying of our long service. Yes, Your Excellency. Pardon me, Herr Schmidt. You must not take the slightest risk as long as I am aboard, Captain Metz. We have lost. But I shall yet win. You hear? I shall win. For it would be disloyal of me to believe anything else, Herr Schmidt. In South America I will make my plan. If nothing takes me dead, in fact I will be hidden, where I can direct our rebound. Quite so, Your Excellency. Pardon me, the lookout has sighted something. Oh, yeah, there's a lifeboat drifting. Three points off our starboard bow. Pitching and torsing on the gray waves of the Atlantic ahead of us was a lifeboat. Crowded with gone-faced men who watched with hostile eyes as we came alongside. A dozen yards away, Captain Metz ordered the engine stump, and then as our illustrious passenger looked on with his cloak unsealing his face, Captain Metz questioned the men in the lifeboat. You're in the lifeboat! Who's in charge? I am. That's your life? What's your name? What ship? What cargo did you carry? What port were you placed for? Captain Walter McCackney of the Melton. They were an elite ship carrying crowed in medical supplies. One of your measuring docks will be with us. That's enough, Captain Jetson. You may pull away now. The Earth's land is 300 miles to the rest of you. Aye, we'll pull away. I'm glad to get out of the same pot in the ocean with you. Well, man, let's get going with some free air not contaminated by these docks. And then, just as the lifeboat started to pull away, the wind whipped aside our passengers' cloak and in the lifeboat, Captain Mackenzie, a burly giant of a man, a recognized him. And? You see that smuggling rat crying behind his face? You know who that is? A devil who really takes the order to send our comrades to the bottom. Well, look at him there, with his blueprints and such crying high from us. I fear you have been recognized, girl. Help them. They must die. All of them. Turn your guns on them. That is against international law here, Schmidt. I order you to destroy that boat, Captain. No one can be allowed to live to report on his evening. Very well. Barber gun ready to fire. Barber gun ready to fire. Give them two rounds. Where are you waiting, fire? I'll see you aboard a submarine. It is water, air, Schmidt. The world must never guess I have left Germany. The whole youth bomber, patrol bomber coming this way. Get below it. What? He fled into the concealing depths of the ocean. A few bombs exploded, but far away, and the patrol planes were too late. Grisly captured Mets, keeping the necessary orders while our illustrious messenger looked on his face beam. What's our depth, Drillot? 75 feet, sir. Good. They weren't too fast for them. The bombs, they are coming closer. Oh, they've lost us. Their bombing is random now. Yes, we are safely away. The depth, Drillot. 90 feet, sir. 90's and up. Level her. Level her, sir. We'll set our course at 108, dear. Level her, I said. We're still diving. They're leveling planes. They won't respond, sir. They're jammed with the upgrading motors and broken down. The bombs are very fast. There wasn't a bomb close enough to break an egg. Speed up, our depth. Point at high enough. Order half speed ahead. Half speed ahead? Lift to hand operation of the diving plane. Hand operation of the diving plane, sir. Now, level her. We're still diving. Copy that, Mets. I demand that you arrive for the perfect. They're coming home, and my safety must not be endangered. Silence. I am captain of this vessel. I'm giving the order. You need to come up, sir. They're leveling off. We can't still be diving. Captain, I order you to take me to the perfect immediately. You hear? White faced, and dare not utter their fears aloud. Illustrious passenger raised and rented a captain Mets, screeching about his safety, till Mets ordered him to his camp. White faced, with the black-eyed smile of her. Her Schmidt left the control room. We continue trying to raise the Wundershy boat, working for the service. Lieutenant Reiner, what depth does the job show? Eh, 300 feet, to the gravel bottom, sir. There's a port in the ocean fair just east of our position. A crevasse, and houses be deep. Yeah, safely beyond it. Miller, our depth. 200 feet down. And we are going down. 10 feet, a minute. But our tanks are empty. We should be going up. Nevertheless, we are going down. And as long as we are, we will bottom and surf and for repair. And who said that? Who spoke there, Lieutenant? I don't know, sir. Miller! And it's lying. When I find him, he'll go into our depth. And that 20 feet. Eh, as if what? Oh, as if what? I was going to say, as if that thing was pulling us down. What you thought better of, say? Yes, sir. Say that you continue to think better of Country Mark. The same applies to everyone on board. Lieutenant Reiner. Yes, sir. We will bottom in seven minutes. Prepare to make an inspection of the ship as we do. Everything is in perfect order, sir. There are no leaks. The batteries are fully charged. All motors and working order, all pumps operate. Obviously, there is no reason we should not surf when we choose to do so. What word of the destroyer? And we will surf it. Close auxiliary tanks. Close the auxiliary tanks, sir. And auxiliary tanks, sir. All tanks and we have not risen one inch. I am aware of it, Reiner. Do you take me for an embassy? No, sir, it's just that it's impossible. Obviously, we are stuck on a mud-water. But the bottom here is fabled a charred vessel. This charred is wrong. I say it's mud, you hear? And so we will have to use the motors to pull ourselves free. They can pull speed ahead. Yes, sir. Pull speed ahead. The room is revolving. I suppose the Indians have burned out the motors. They say their propeller is powered. How can it be powered? It's impossible for it to become powered on this water. Yes, sir. They say it's not entirely powered. It will turn, but only very slowly. And if... As if what? They say it turns as if... as if a lot of hands were holding it to keep it from revolving. Who? The imbeciles. When we get back to our base, I'll court-martial every man aboard. I've gotten tangled in a little seaweed, that's all. You may be able to reverse the propeller and free it. Pull speed is turned, Lointreiner. Pull speed is turned. That is still powered, sir. It turns, but... as if something was holding it back. I do think that I, Ludwig von Metz, thought I had the finest submarine crew in the world. A pack of mulling infants! Captain! Captain Metz! Metz! Oh, Hirschwitz! I trust you've not been worried. Everything is quite under control. Captain Metz, in my cabin I have been hearing sounds. Sounds, your Excellency. What sounds? From outside the submarine. Scratching sounds, tapping from the hull, and they go on and on and on. They sound, Captain Metz. They sound like someone's trying to get into the submarine. After me. Silence! Well, until you have heard nothing except pebbles being threatened against our hull by the current, that is more... I tell you, it sounds like hands wrapping and tapping on our hull trying to get in. Captain Metz! Captain Metz! The surface advance to you here. I order you to surface advance. I am about to do so. How is all due respect? May I suggest you return to your cabin. Your presence here may impede our effort. Aye! Well, see that you take me to the surface advance. I have no fear. Right now, if I have few, you will assist Hirschwitz to his cabin. Yes, sir. Lieutenant, if I may hold the door for your action. Captain, Captain Metz! Well, what is it? Captain, we hear them too. Sounds coming from outside our hull. I hear no sound. I can hear them now quite cleanly on my detector phones. They do sound like harassing and scraping of a lot of men landing over our hull. Yeah. I am about to bring you to your pinch. Listen to me, all of you! Your temporal is stuck in the mud. A current is sweeping pebbles against us. You're all acting like children who think they see a ghost in a graveyard. You're going to be on the surface in an hour. You have my word for it. Break free from the mud. I'm going to fill the bow tank, then blow them and fill the stern tank. Fill rock to ship lose. You understand? Then flood the forward ballast tank. Flood the forward ballast tank, then. Captain Metz! Yes, Lieutenant. The pumps are operating again. The failure was caused by a scene in Hans Jäger. Jäger? How? He went off his head and grabbed the pole of the main switch. The short circuit blew out the fuses and electrocuted it. How is others reacting? Badly, sir. They are very nervous. Nervous, are they? I will give them something to be nervous about. That scraping and scratching outside our house, it's upset the crew, Badly, sir. I know it's stopped now, but the men say it's just because they are planning something else. Hey! What do you mean, they? The crew says that there are hundreds of men in the water outside trying to get in at us. Dead men. Lieutenant Reiner, do you wish to be placed in our house? No, sir, I... I'm just trying to explain the crew's name to mine. They decide to call our efforts, and we're still on the bottom, and the men... and the men are getting junkies. I've reached them a lesson they'll not forget. But of course, they're taking their cue from our illustrious passenger. If he hadn't come out here with his ravings and antings, if I may make a suggestion, sir. Well, what is it? There is one thing that we have not tried. We have to try it. Discharge our torpedoes. Discharge our torpedoes! We must! We have ten torpedoes aboard, each weighing 2,500 pounds. That's 25,000 pounds of dead weight. Get rid of that, and we have to rise. I see you are beginning to share the hysteria of the crew. However, I accept your suggestion. Order the discharging of the torpedoes to begin at once. Yes, sir. At once. We began discharging our torpedoes. Two, three, four. And then the wolf moved. It jolted and moved, but not upward to the surface. To my horror as I watched the gauges, we began to move downward. Fifty feet, sixty feet. We slid ever deeper into the ocean's depths, as if down a steep slope on the bottom. After we had fired, six torpedoes we were actually a hundred feet deeper than we had been. And then the discharge of torpedoes stopped. And I went forward to find out what was wrong. I'm so tired. It's no use. It is no use. We're going down, not up, down. What's going on here? Why haven't the rest of the torpedoes been discharged? You know what is going on like that. We have fired six torpedoes from that ship. We have just stuck deeper. Deeper, always deeper. Our plates won't stand it. We'll be crushed, drowned like rats in a trap. Why are we quiet? Why should I be quiet? We all know our tanks are empty. We should have been on the surface long ago. We're being held down by a thousand dead men crawling all over us, scratching at our plates, trying to get in. They've come all over the seven seas just to hold us down, just to see if we don't get away. Listen, listen to them. You can hear them now, listen. Maya, come to your senses. It's only our plates groaning under the pressure. Hey, listen, you know better. We all know better. Who dragged us down here to the bottom? Whose hands are keeping up, or perhaps some turning? Whose bodies jammed out diving planes? Whose weight is keeping us on the bottom? The dead. I order you to be silent. Too late for orders. There's only one way we can escape. Give them the dead outside the man they want. They want our passenger, the one who calls himself Air-Schmeet. We all know who is, and so do they. Oh, and they've come to get him. You are under arrest. Grab him, you men. Hey, listen, listen, all of you. Let us go and get this Air-Schmeet, put him in the computer group and turn him out to the dead outside. Let them have him. Then they let us go free. He is our only home. Hey, Captain Knight. I heard your interesting little speech just now. And this is my answer. Hey, Captain Knight. Does anyone else want the same medicine? And to your stations? You might not. Continue discharging torpedoes. That was many hours ago. We discharged all our torpedoes. And we are still on the bottom. Every few minutes, we slip a little deeper down a slope that is bringing us ever closer to the thousand-foot chasm in the ocean bend. The crew truly believes that we are being dragged toward it by thousands of dead men who have gathered outside, drawn here by their hatred for our passenger. The hatred so great even death cannot quench it. Perhaps they are right. Certainly, Air-Schmeet believes in himself. He is in the next camp. Captain Metz has locked him in. Perhaps if I hold this microphone close to the bulkhead, you can hear him. Captain Metz. Captain Metz, do something. I order you to do something. They are trying. They are clawing at the hull to get at me. Captain, save me. I order you to. You can't let me die, Captain. Captain Metz. That is enough. He makes an unloveless spectacle. Our illustrious passenger and his approaches. Though no one can save us, there is comfort in knowing that somewhere some human ear is hearing me. Another lurch, then. We must be on the very edge of the crevasse. It is truly as if hands, many hands, were remorselessly pulling us towards our doom. The hands of the dead? It is a fantastic thought. And yet, when one is hated as our passenger is hated, by hundreds of millions of the living and tens of millions of the slain, who can tell? There is also the curse Captain Mackenzie in the lifeboat uttered just before he died. Just a moment ago, a sharp tapping came against our hull. And if someone was tapping against it with a rock, this tapping is in international code. It is a message from outside. A message from someone outside the submarine. And the depth of 400 feet. And no living man could be sending it. What does it say? I will tell you. Into the great crevasse. 450 feet. 500 feet. In a moment, this submarine will crumble like a child's toy. But first, the message, it says, we are waiting for you at our pitland. We are waiting for you at our pitland. That's the message we are receiving. 500 feet deep in the ocean. And now, our... Spinning a sailor's yarn? Well, he no longer insists it's true, just asks us to consider the story and nothing more. But I wonder, after all, if it did disappear, and it's logical that I tried to get away by submarine, so... Oh, that brings me to my story for next week about another individual who suffered punishment. I call it, I died last night. It's about a man who woke up to find out that he was dead and that nobody would... Oh, but you have to get off here, I'm sorry. But I'm sure with me again, I take this same train every week at this same time. You have just heard The Mysterious Traveller, which is played by Maurice Tarplin. In the cast were Frank Behrens, Roger Dick oven, Robert Dryden and Ronald Dott. Original music is composed and played by Alphanette. This is Bob Emerick C. This is the mutual broadcasting system.