 Family Theater presents Mary Livingston and Arthur Shields. From Hollywood, the Mutual Network and Cooperation with Family Theater presents The Roll Call of the Reef, starring Arthur Shields. And now here is your hostess, Mary Livingston. Family Theater's only purpose is to bring to everyone's attention a practice that must become an important part of our lives if we are to win peace for ourselves, peace for our families, and peace for the world. Family Theater urges you to pray. Pray together as a family. And now to our transcribed drama, The Roll Call of the Reef, starring Arthur Shields as the narrator. My grandfather could tell marvelous lies. Like me, he was a quarry man with a wide streak of wit and imagination, no more schooling than myself. And it was from this very cottage with a gale blowing like it is tonight that he'd walk across Gunnar's meadow through the rain down to Manical Reef when it was storming all over the high tide. And there on the four shore each scoop up bits of jetsman wreckage quipped in from lost ships. You can see for yourself, the walls are hung with it. Here's the sailor's cap and the gold epilote turned off an officer's coat. And then here, this musket with the rotted stock. And there was a story he'd tell about each. Oh, a terrible lie of a story. I see you're looking at the drum and trumpet. No, that's an odd one. You see, the two are bound together by this padlock. And the body of it is these six brass rings with a letter cut in them. You've got to know the right word to open the lock, and I don't. Grandfather would never confide it. Indeed, until he was past 80, and I a grown man, he never spoke to me of the drum and trumpet. And my mother said it was one of his best stories. And I think by then he'd got to believe it himself. As grandfather told it, he was 30 at the time, still single, and living here alone in the cottage. There'd been a storm that night and the 21st of January. The next morning, grandfather was dressed and out before daybreak. He took the path across Gunnar's meadow, and then, thinking he'd lost his bearings, he was about to turn back one far off. There came the firing of a big gun and a blaze of blue light from down the coast, clear out past Manical Point. And then he saw her, a sloop of war with top gallants housed, driving stern foremost towards the reef. And while he looked, she fell off, giving her broad sight toward foot by foot and drifting back on the breakers. Grandfather turned and raced back to its coverach along the foreshore to the cottage lived in by Billy Ead and his wife Anne. Rick, there's been a wreck. Oh, don't tell now. Save the chap and what do you mean? Cry and stale fish at that rate. But Tizirak, I tell you, I've seen it. So it is, and we've seen it, too. And so's everyone with an eye in his head. Where were you pointed? To the wreck, man. You can see it from here to the door. Close under-dollar point at the end of Kovac. Oh, serious. She's a transport full of horse soldiers. But that's not the wreck I've seen. What do you say? There's a second ship founded off Manical Point. Harky, there it comes again. Oh, what is it? The trumpeter. Oh, and a whacking big man he is, too. He's been blown like that ever since she struck to keep up the other's courage. Is there no helping them? Oh, she's just beyond the cast of a line. They've tried it 50 times. For a while you'd hear the men give a cheer every time he blew. Aye, but there's fuel left to cheer now. They've been dropping off with every sea. And none of them cast up alive. Not while we were there. Now, there's really another wreck, you say, Owen? Off the Manacles. You're sure as I'm alive. A sloop of whore. Oh, they have little hope if it's off the Manacles. But Billy, we're bound to try. Aye, but we best look yonder. First, all Kovacs down by the transport. You'll need a move on you. The tide's flowing. I know. She won't hold together another hour, they say. Sure enough, by the time grandfather and Billy Eade got down to the point, the end of the transport was coming fast. All our masks were gone. Our keel snooze broke under and our bottoms sagged and stove. The cross detected rigged ropes from bullet to bullet and the handful of men left, tall, fine-looking chaps in white britches and jackets of blue and gold who are mustered holding on to the ropes like grim death whenever the sea made a clean breach over them. And standing up like heroes as soon as it passed. Don't stand on the quarter-deck next to the officer. It's the trumpeter. Aye, and he's making shift on the very end. I count less than a dozen men left. Billy, Billy Eade. Who's that? Uh, Parson Kendall, over there. Billy, aye, Parson. Billy, there's been six men cast up alive. Just breathe them. Can they be taken to your cottage? It's the closest. Take them wherever you've a mind, Parson. Thank you. And sit the house, say I said to help. Parson, have they learned the ship's name? She's the dispatch, homeward bound from Corona. And the soldiers? A detachment of the Seventh Hussars, the ones who've been fighting out there with Sir John Moore. Oh, it is a shame to come safely through battle and then this... Yes, it is. A party. The trumpeter again. Blue and gold saved the king. They must know the end is near. Parson, have you heard of the other wreck? Another. Down on the mannequins. Oh, and seated with his own eyes. Look, that's the last wave washed and cleaned. All but one beneath the poop. There comes another sea over him. Ah, they're sunk like stones. Every man of them. No, no, no, look. Come in and on the breakings. I can't see. It's him. It's the trumpeter. Will you look at that man fight? He's no chance on the rocks. But he's swimming. Oh, there's a crest of another coffin. He's riding it. He's riding it. Come on, man. Come on. He'll be broken like an egg. No. No, it swept him clear under that ledge. Get a rope in it. Get a rope and throw it to me. I'll climb down to him and hold on. Grandfather let himself over the slippery rock and took the trumpeter by the ankle. And in another minute, before the next big sea, the pair were hauled high enough to be out of harm. The big fellow was still breathing, with nothing worse than a crack head and three staved ribs. He'll live, Owen, and he's you to thank. He was away 15 stone. Oh, we'll get him up to the cottage. Hi. Owen, about the other wreck on the manacles. Are you strong enough to show us the place? It's just off the point, Parsons. I see the white streaks in the ports of it, please. Very well. We'll find it ourselves. No. No. I'll show you. As soon as grandfather caught his breath, they set off with him, Billy, the Parsons, and better than a score of others. And sure enough, on the far side of Dean Point, they found the sloop's main mast, washing about. A nearby part of a ship's gig with the words, HMS Primrose, cut on the sternboard. From here on, it was a sad thing to see the shore littered thick with wreckage and the dead, most of the Marines in uniform. And I suppose they'd have been all left there for Garnet had been for Billy's wife Anne, who'd come down to the point for curiosity. Billy, look. Look here. This one's still alive. Oh, he's just alive. Oh, sure he's breathing. And his drum's still lashed to him. Owen! Aye. Bring your knife. This one's still got life in him. What are you needing the knife? Well, to cut this drum away. It's what probably saved his life, floating in on it like a kite. Oh, but it's no help to him now. Here, hold up the rope. Ah, the poor little jigger. His face all beaten and his eyes crumbling. No matter he's still breathing, get on with it or cut away the drum. After the boy was brought around, grandfather took him up and carried him here to this very room where he was sitting in. And for a week he raged in fever brought on by the cold and fright. Not a soul beside him had survived from the primrose. And although the few others rescued from the dispatch were off to Plymouth in the matter of days, the big trumpeter's ribs hadn't healed, so he stayed behind too. It was near a fortnight later when the trumpeter, William Tellifer, he called himself, was about to meet with the drummer boy down by the gate of the gunner's meadow where they buried two scorer over of his comrades. Oh, good morning. And what might you be doing here? I was wishing I had a pair of drumsticks. Oh, and for what? Our lads were buried yonder without so much as a drum tapped or a musket fired. And that's not Christian burial for British soldiers. Olders, you call them? A parcel of marines. If I'd a tab-a-turf handy, I'd bung it at your mouth, you greasy cavalryman, and learn you to speak respectful of your betters. The marines are the handiest body of men in the service. Now tell me then, boy, did they die well? They died very well. There was a lot of running to and fro at first, and some of the men began to cry. But when the ship fell off the last time, the major called out to me to beat to quarters. And it might have been for a wedding. He sang it out to cheerful. And then the chaplain read a prayer or two. The boys standin' all away like rocks, each man's courage keepin' up the others. And he was in the middle of the third prayer when she struck. That was how they died, cavalryman. And very well done, drummer of the marines. Now what's your name? John Christian. Mine is Willem George Talifer, trumpeter of the Seventh Light de Grunes, the Queen's own. I played God Save the King while our men were drowning. So I've heard. The captain told me to sound a call or two to put them in art. But that matter of God Save the King was a notion of my own. A good notion it was. I won't say anything to hurt the feelings of a marine. You're wise not to. Even if he isn't past five foot tall. But the Queen's desires is a tear in fine regiment. And so is the fourth marines in the 42nd and the dirty half hundred. I'll not deny that. But the Queen's own is tear in fine. You must admit. I. So you played on your drum when the ship was going down. That I did. Well, drummer John Christian, I'll have to get your new pair of drumsticks for that. And that was the beginning of one of the most curious friendships you ever heard tell of. The very next day, Gooders is where the trumpeter marched into Halston and got a carpenter there to turn him into a boxwood drumsticks for the boy. And on still days, it was pretty to hear them out there after manacles where the primrose and the dispatch had sunk. Little John Christian beating his tattoo and big William Telfer practicing calls and making his trumpet speak like an angel. But it all had to come to an end in the late summer because young John Christian, being well and strong again, must go up to Plymouth to report for duty. A Monday morning it was when John Christian was to leave and grandfather had left them together to do a few odd morning jobs. But when he came back, the boy was still at table and Telfer standing here by the chimney place with a drumman trumpet in his hands hits together just as they be at this moment. Look at this, Owen. This lock. I picked it up off a starving brass worker in Lisbon. And it's not one of your common locks that any key will open. Oh, there's genius in this lock. I? You've only got to make the ring spell any six-letter word you please and snap down the lock upon that and never a soul can open it. Not even a maker. Until somebody comes along and knows the word you've snapped on it. Fine enough. But what's the need of it? Because, uh, Johnny here's going and... and he leaves his drum behind him. Hiya, John. Hi. It still makes pretty music. I... but the parchment sags in wet weather for the seawater in it. And if I bring the drum to Plymouth, they'll only condemn it and give me another. I suppose. As for me, Owen, I shan't have the art to put lip to trumpet when Johnny's gone. So we've chosen a word together and locked him upon it. And by your leave we'll hang him together here on the yoke over your fireplace. Whatever you wish, William. I'll be dead and gone and... and he'll take him apart and... and try their music for all sakes' sake. William, you'll be here if he comes. Aye, but if he never comes, nobody can separate him for nobody besides us knows the word. And if you marry Owen and have sons, you can tell him that here are tied together the souls of Johnny Christian, drummer of the Marines and Willem George Talefer, once trumpeter of the Queen's Old Nuzard. Do it that the trumpeter hung the two instruments upon the hook there, and the boy stood up and thanked my grandfather and shook hands and then went forth of the door towards Halestown. From that time for five years, Willem Talefer lodged here with my grandfather, looking out to the house and tilling the garden and all the while steadily failing. Now, did ever a letter reach them? A word of his doings from drummer John Christian. This much of the tale is in the records of the vicarage at Covert. The rest, well, you can judge for yourself. As grandfather told it, about three in the morning, April the 14th, five years after, he and Willem Talefer were sitting here before the heart. When the door opened and in walked a young man in scarlet regimentals, he'd grown a brave bit and his face was the color of wood ashes. But it was drummer John Christian and he walked past grandfather if he'd never seen him and stood by the elbow chair. Trumpeter. Trumpeter, are you one with me? How shall I not be one with you, Johnny? Johnny boy. The men are patient. Till you come, I count. While you march, I mark time until the discharge comes. The discharge has come and the word is corona no longer. And with that, as grandfather told us, drummer John Christian stepped up to the chimney place unhooked the drum and trumpet and began to twist the brass rings of the lock, spelling out the word aloud, C-O-R-U-N-A. And when he fixed the last letter, the lock had opened in his hand. Did you know, trumpeter, that when I came to Plymouth, they put me into a lion regiment? The 38th is a good regiment, Johnny. I went back with them from Sahagan to Coroner. At Coroner, they stood in General Fraser's division. On the right, they behaved well. But I'd faint see the Marines again. Here, take your trumpet. You shall call once more for the Queen's Hazars. Owen, we shall want your boat. And then, as grandfather told us, when John Christian turned towards him, full grown to manhood, he saw a round black hole in the drummer's scarlet jacket just above his heart. And grandfather rose to his legs like a man in a dream where they two slung on the one his drum, the other his trumpet. He took the lamp and went quaking before them down to the shore and they stepped into his boat and grandfather pushed off. Throw your first for dollar point. Aye, aye, John. So grandfather rode them out past the White House of Coverac at the dollar point and there at a word lay on his oars and William Telefair put the trumpet to his mouth and sounded the revelry. They will follow. Owen, pull you now for the manacles. So grandfather took the oars and pulled for the manacles and came close outside the breakers by car and dew on the vases and John Christian took his sticks and beat it to two there by the edge of the reef. That will do. They will follow. Pull now for the shore under gunner's meadow. Then grandfather pulled for the shore and ran his boat in under gunner's meadow and they stepped out all three and walked up and by the gate of the meadow the drummer halted and began his tattoo again looking out towards the darkness over the sea and while the drum beat and the grandfather held his breath they came up out of the sea in darkness a troop of many men on horse and foot and formed up among the graves. And others seemed to rise out of the ground marines with white faces and halo's eyes riding the horses all lean and shadowy. The drummer stood up on a little knoll just inside the gate and beside him the tall trumpeter with hand on hip watched them gather and when no more came the drummer stopped playing and said How should it be with me? When I was young I betrayed a girl When I was old I betrayed a friend and for these things I must pay but I died as a man lot God saved the king Trooper Henry Buckingham Trooper Henry Buckingham How is it with you? How should it be with me? I was a drunkard and I stole and in lugo in a wine shop by knife to man but I died as a man should God saved the king and so the trumpeter went down the line and when he finished the drummer took it up hailing the dead marines in her order each man answered to his name and each ended with God saved the king and when all were hailed the drummer stepped back to his mound and called It is well you are content and we are content to join you wait yet a little while and with that he turned and ordered Grandfather to pick up the lantern and Grandfather picked it up and heard the ranks of the dead men cheer and call God saved the king and wave and fade back into the dark like breath fading off of pain and when they came back to the kitchen the drummer turned in the light and Grandfather saw again the round black hole over his heart and he took the trumpet sling from around his neck and locked the drum and the trumpet together again the word is no more Corona William but Bayonne as you left out an end in Corona so must I leave out an end in Bayonne and saying no more he took the trumpet out by the arm and the pair walked out into the darkness and Grandfather was on the point of following them when he heard a sigh behind them and there sitting in the elbow chair was the very trumpeter he'd seen walking out by the door and frightened as he was Grandfather went up and put a hand on the man asleep in the chair it was the trumpeter and the flesh and blood that he touched but though the flesh was warm the trumpeter was dead well Sir they buried William Teller for three days after and at first Grandfather was minded to say nothing of his dream I'm persuaded that's what it was but then the day after the funeral Parsley Kendall coming from Haleston Market stopped by the cottage and it's the tidings he brought that made the story worth telling Owen have you heard the news that came down with the coach this morning what news Parsley? why that peace is agreed upon the war is over aye and none too soon not near soon enough for our poor lads at Bayonne did you say Bayonne? aye one of the last battles the French made a great sally the night of April 13th hundreds were killed do you happen to know if the 38th Regiment was engaged? I do more than that speak man I thought to keep it from you with William Teller and not cold in his grave but a list of the wounded and killed I saw in the mercury has among them drummer John Christian of the 38th foot well after that there was nothing for grandfather but to make a clean breast of everything he told Parsley Kendall the whole story from the night of the wreck to the ghostly roll call of the reef Owen have you tried to open the lock since that night? I haven't dared to touch it let's see did he say Bayonne? aye but the word has seven letters he spelled it with one N as he did we shall see B-A-Y-O-N-E that opened it aye I tell you what Owen I shouldn't blab this about the parish if I was you I won't if you say not you'll get no credit for truth telling and a miracle is wasted on a set of fools for me and if you like I'll shut down the lock again upon a holy word that none but me shall know neither drummer nor trumpeter dead nor alive shall frighten the secret out of me I wish to gracious you would Parsley well the Parsley chose the word then and there and grandfather told it and shut the lock and hung the drum and trumpet back in their place we see them now remember those I said those past 80 of when he first told me the story but you'll admit it was a good one this is Mary Livingston again did you ever notice how frequently in everyday conversation you hear familiar little phrases and adages they are used and reused so often that we come to think of them as a single idea rather than as a group of words one such adage which we all have heard one time or another is charity begins at home let's look at this group of words a little more closely for instance the first word charity what does this word mean well the most common generally accepted interpretation would be generosity but that's not quite correct charity comes from the Latin caritas which means love generosity is but one byproduct of love so substituting the word love for charity we have love begins at home now take the word home a home is a house occupied by a family therefore home and family are very closely related so now our adage becomes love begins in the family love is the tie that holds the family closely united and this love stems from family prayer for prayer is the voice of love and the prayer that rests in the heart and on the lips of the family is most pleasing to God and he will answer these prayers by extending his blessings of love and of harmony and of freedom from discord so you see the family that prays together stays together more things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of from Hollywood Family Theater has brought you transcribed The Roll Call of the Rean starring Arthur Shields Mary Livingston was your hostess other snorkels were Alec Finglesson Lawrence Dubkin Martha Wentworth Vic Perrin Richard Peele and Sam Edwards the script adapted from a story by Sir Arthur T. Quillercouch Family Theater by John T. Kelly with music composed and conducted by Harry Zimmerman this series of Family Theater broadcasts is made possible by the thousands of you who feel the need for this type of program by the mutual network which has responded to this need and by the hundreds of stars of state screen and radio who give so unselfish leave their time and talent to appear on our Family Theater stage to them and to you our humble thanks this is Tony LaFranco expressing the wish of Family Theater that the blessing of God is upon you and your home and inviting you to be with us next week when Family Theater will present The Big One starring Cecil Callaway Robert Stack will be your host Join us, won't you? Family Theater has broadcast throughout the world and originates in the Hollywood studios of the world's largest network This is Mutual, the radio network for all America