 Log entry, the catch-scallot queen, Philip Carney, master. Position, 39 degrees, 40 minutes south, 175 degrees, four minutes east. Wind, fresh and rising, sky fair. Remarks, cleared Wellington, New Zealand after emergency layover. Reason for emergency, Rocky's a third in the dead man's chest. New Zealand, loaded with traded cotton goods, paper, machinery for the coal mines. Was an easy run, an endless expanse of sun-dappled water smiling from starboard, and the western coast of North Island beckoning with white beaches and waving palms on our port. I was standing my trick at the wheel that afternoon, half my mind on the job, the rest of it wandering back to the other palms on other beaches on other afternoons. They were good memories, but Nielsen's hail brought me back to the present. He was heading off toward me from number two hole. Captain Carney, sir. Yeah, Nielsen, what's up? Number two hole, Captain. He was checking the cargo and I heard something thumping inside one of them crates that was marked cotton. You sure, Nielsen? Yeah, sir. Wasn't just shifting from the roll? No, sir. It was thumping over here. Take the wheel. Mr. Gallagher and I'll get down and have a look. Flashlight made a little yellow moon with a big ring around it, playing on the boxes in number two. Nielsen hadn't said which one was thumping, but that wasn't hard to find out. There it is. Hand me the crowbar, Redman. Maybe you better cover me from where you are. Okay. I began to think you were never going to come. Oh, and it was getting quite stuffy in here. Well, get out. How'd you get in there in the first place? The name is Rockingham Wells III. Some of my friends helped me exchange myself for the cotton goods in the box before you left Auckland. Well, I'll be... What was the idea? Sir, I have launched on the great adventure of my life. I hope he won't inconvenience you too much. And so, with Roddy McDowell in the role of Rockingham Wells III, mutual continues The Voyage of the Scarlet Queen, written by Gildowd and Bob Tolman, and starring Elliot Lewis. The Queen protests ship to plow the seas, bound for uncharted adventure. Every week a complete entry in the log, and every week a league further in The Voyage of the Scarlet Queen. Me? We'll be in my cabin. Run, chow, for this one, right? Okay, skipper. And don't think I'm not adding these things up. And captain, sir... Yeah? Well, if you could find something other than kid to call me, my name is Rockingham Wells... Yeah, I know, and it sounds like trouble anyway you say it. How old are you? Fourteen, sir. And I won't be any trouble, sir. That's all right. We'll figure it out. Rockingham Wells. How would Rocky do for a name? Oh, that's first rate. All right, Rocky, come on, we'll go tough, sir. Yes, sir. And captain, it's awfully decent of you to... Go on up this landing. And don't start thinking of me as a big brother yet. You've got a scupper full of questions to answer. Rocky was a gentleman in the original sense of the word, so I couldn't quite bring myself to wring his neck. He peeled off a jacket in my cabin to go in and wash and comb himself. When he came out to turn to on some stew and biscuits red it brought in, I finally tumbled to an obvious clue to our Stowaway's character. He was wearing a t-shirt and painted on the front of it with a menacing head of a buccaneer with a knife in his teeth. I trust the stew is all right, your Lordship? Oh, yes. Quite thank you. Yeah. But I... I'm not titled, you know. He's not titled? That's enough, friend. Well, what is this, treating a Stowaway like a kid? Never mind. But he's right, Skipper. He is? Yes, I should be lashed to the mass for twenty stoves of the cat and stowed below with iron. Yeah, we'll come for that. Oh, I didn't mean that. Give the prisoner another ration of grog, Rhett. Grog? The milk, Mr. Gallagher. Pour him another glass of milk. Oh. Thank you, sir. Yes, now then, Rockingham. What black brand of sculpt duggery brought you aboard, huh? Yes. Here, sir. Would you mind reading this letter, please? All right. Probably penned in the blood of... Oh. Your dad? Yes, sir. My father. That's too bad, sir. What is it, Skipper? Uh, notes addressed to Martin Wells. He's my uncle. Says, regret to inform you of the death of your brother, Rockingham Wells, the second at sea. Yeah. Here's the date cause of death. Comes from Port Authority's at Wellingham. Yes, sir. But it's the list that's important. Now, sir... What list? All effects left in the hands of his first mate of Joseph Ryan Pagalli. Clothes, logbook, map, sea locker... Yes, sir. But it's the map. What about the map? Well, Joe Pagalli's in Wellington, you see, and he has the map, along with the other things. Yeah, it says that here. But my uncle Martin wouldn't have told me. You see, he'd have taken it all. No, it's rightfully mine, so I just had to steal the letter and run away. You're a little hard to follow. We were talking about a map. Yeah, what map? Well, the one Joe Pagalli is holding in Wellington. Sir, it is a map that shows the place where my father buried a great and secret treasure. Sure, the adventure of your life, so what else but a buried treasure? Look, Rocky, I got maps, too, but not one of them leads to a treasure. Oh, but this one does. I heard them mention it. You see, father and uncle Martin were in the export-import business together in Auckland. And when you handle strange foreign things, you find maps and other things. Sure, you want some more, child, Rocky? No, thank you. Uncle Martin worked in the office, and father was the captain of the ship. They didn't show me this letter when it came, but I heard them talking about it and watched Uncle Martin hide it inside his desk. Did he know you snitched it and stowed away on my ship? Oh, I left him a note. I told him I was going after it. So if you could just put me ashore in Wellington... Look, I've got a cargo consigned to Christchurch, South Island. I've got to discharge that cargo day after tomorrow morning. I'm not stopping at Wellington. Oh, then how in the world am I ever going to find Joe and the map and the treasure? Oh, look, you better get a grip on your imagination. You can't go running around the ocean chasing rainbows. Stowing away on somebody else's ship is... Against the law? Yeah, that's right. But you just got to hunt treasure by going to sea. Oh, nuts. Go take the wheel, Redwood. We're changing course. Stand under the bay for Wellington. Oh, oh. We'll lay over just long enough to get you started back home. You mean you're going to run into Wellington? Yes, yes. Go ahead, Gallagher. Okay, it's your ship, Skipper. And if we're going to play pirate, I better run up to Jolly Roger. Rocky's great adventure had come to an end, but he didn't miss a thing as we walked onto the street that led toward the railroad station. He was getting dark and he was looking back toward the harbor. I was watching. So neither one of us noticed a strange pair of half-shadows that materialized in front of us. First, I heard a soft, pleasant voice. You will stop, please? I stopped because he was pressing the hard, unpleasant business end of a pistol against my ribs. Yes, now, do not make our cry, please. It was Oriental, short, very neat, and very pleasant. His countryman who stood beside him liked the element of mystery. He was simply the biggest Chinese I'd ever seen. The tongue of my friend is inadequate. He hears, but he speaks only with his strength. Your young companion is rocking him well? What's that to you? Link! Rocky! Get away! Rocky! Run to the queen! I like that! What? You let boy get away. Sure, I let him call up your strong-armed man while there's another one enlightens you. You'll come. Wait a minute! How do you go where Link wants you to go? Father, in that automobile, if you please, I shall drive you and sit in the back seat with Link. Had more attractive dates. Now, inside, please. Downtown Wellington for five or six minutes, and we pulled up in one of the darker streets in front of what looked like an office building. So I let him save himself. The white man who waited inside lounged in a chair and looked at us out of watery eyes as we came in. He stayed in the chair. What is the boy? Because of Pigali, he disappeared. We could not bring him in. That is stupid, Chong. Then for you, Pigali, it will be unfortunate. Put him in the chair. Wait a minute, you're off course, if you think I'm Joe Pigali. I'm silent, Link! He's from the locker of rocking him well. The third? The second? Come, this is a waste of my time. And my energy, I don't have your map. The good captain's personal effects were left in your custody, the map among them. You got the wrong man. Chong? This is the man who was with the boy. Then to get cooperation, Chong? Yes! There's a certain teakwood box on the show from the next room. Yes! Bring it to me, please. We shall see. Yes, honestly, it is done. When the lid of the box Chong brought back was open, I saw a velvet interior that matched the color of the big jade ring my host wore on his delicate right hand. It cushioned in the velvet, was a strange assortment of bamboo sticks, ivory-handled files, and slim-bladed knives that look like scalpels. Interesting, aren't they, sir? I suppose so, in a way. They're words very persuasive. What are you getting at? The map. I mean to have that map, sir. I don't know anything about your map. I take ten of these bamboo shoots, these slender ones, carefully chosen. Ten of them want to be forced under each fingernail. You can't make me tell you something I don't know. Oh, come now. You were first made to my brother's ship. I didn't even know your brother. I didn't know you were the boy's uncle until right now. Why do you make this feeble attempt? Look, you know I was found with your nephew. That's all. We discovered him aboard my ship when we put out from Auckland. Yes, of course. But where is the map? I never saw the map. And I never saw the mate who was supposed to have it. And I don't see why a grown man wants to get so excited about a map that a kid's imagination has magnified into a search-for-bearing treasure. Well, you hold his shoulders, please. Get away from him. But truthfully, Ling is invincible. Struggle is fruitless. Now, just be more calm. If you'd make sense, maybe I would. You know about the Ming birds? Admit it. Never heard of them. A very good reason to believe that you were present at the beginning. My brother sailed Oriental waters for 20 years. By dint of a deep and justifiable gratitude he received from a warlord in China 11 years ago, the missing Ming birds of paradise. Good for him. He did not sell them. I'd watched the markets carefully. I knew he had them. Therefore, I know he hid them somewhere. The map I want from you will show me where. If I had a map, maybe, but I don't have one. Ling is left half. What are you... Listen, I'm no hero. If I knew where your precious vases were hidden, I'd tell you. Oh, my good man, they're not vases. Oh, whatever they are. They are four matched screens of jade, carved by the greatest of all the Ming dynasty artists. Each is the lifetime work of a man who slept with the priceless jade next to his own flesh to give it warmth and depth of color. And during the light of each day of his life on earth he worked with infinite loving care coaxing out the design of birds of paradise. You'll get worked up over these things, don't you? And you will too. The first bamboo stick. Hold out his left hand, Ling. He will understand my interest when I tell you that I know each of these screens to be worth the king's ransom, Zingli, and a set of four together. I'm beginning to think I'd like to have him myself. A hand a little higher, Ling. Oh, maybe you've decided to tell us, Pigali. I am not your brother's first mate, well. You know, from the letter his name is Joe Pagali. I'm Phil Corning, and I don't know where Pagali is. You're making this difficult. Hold his hand, Ling. Let go of me. Now, Pigali, would you like another? No. I got enough. When I just wanted somebody to hit me hard enough to put me out, I couldn't get my arms free from Ling, but I lifted my legs and smashed both feet of the martin-wilts and bring a specific frame. He crumbled and went down. Zing! He exploded in my head, and there's a pair. I don't know, you were just staggering down the dock. Where did they take you, Skipper? Were they pirates? When I brought Mr. Gallagher back, you were gone. Sure was. I guess we'd better get going. Well, Skipper, what's it all about? Rock, do you still got that letter in your pocket? Yes, sir. Here. Port Authority 223 Waterfront Avenue. I guess that's our first stop. Am I to come too, Skipper? Yeah, you're only in this up to your neck. I am. Oh, it's splendid. Coming. This morning in the Port Authority's office had been open about an hour. We walked in and asked the clerk what he had on Joe Pigali. He's at the King George Hotel, room 222. Is Pigali in trouble? Maybe why. Yours is the second inquiry for Joe Pigali. Second? I say, who was the first? A well-dressed chap. About 50, not too tall. That's enough. I'll lay odds, Rocky. That's your uncle, Martin Wells. Really? I must have done something along the line to convince him I wasn't Pigali. Uncle Martin is after the map. And he's got a fair start. Come on. King George Hotel. The door number 222 was locked. Oh, what do we do, Skipper? Anything but waste more time. Give me your shoulder. Right. They got here first. This throat reminds me of a big Chinese I met. Big lame. But from map, red, any map. This must be the sea locker. Logbook? Logbook? Take that along. Hey, look. In his hand, a torn piece of paper. No, but there's enough to lead us to the killer of Joe Pigali. Position on this map looks like Cloudy Bay. That's just across Cook Strait, 20 miles from here. I know that's what my father promised me we'd look for some day. Your uncle's pretty sure it's Jade Birds of Paradise. Is that why he killed Joe Pigali? Oh, I had him killed. But how could Uncle Martin get here to Cloudy Bay? He doesn't have a boat. I saw one of the charter boats from Wellington. Oh, of course. It's like that one over there. What one? Two points off to the starboard bound, Skipper. Oh, shiver, my timbers made it your right. Hey, Red! Yeah, Skipper? Rouse out the crew. I'm coming above. We'll drop anchor to port of that charter boat. And get the small boat over the side. Small boat. We beached ours near it. Footprints leading into the brush. That's good enough. Come on. Looks like we're late. 30 feet ahead in a tiny clearing stood Martin Wells. Little Mr. Chong on one side, the giant big ling on the other. In front of them in a whole lake, Doug was an iron bound wooden chest with the top open toward us. From what we could hear are some very hot words. Wells thought he'd been double crossed. Then Chong reached forward and slammed down the top of the chest. Wells made a dive for the little man, but Chong had different ideas. Come on, Red! I'm with you. We moved into the big ling. His hand made an arc. Side down with the liner behind Martin Wells' ear. Uncle went down hard, and Chong spun his automatic toward us. We parted to get them from two directions, but Mr. Chong didn't pull the trigger. Captain Carney, please to forget the unfortunate past. We have no further wish to fight. We are leaving. You think so? It has discovered that the contents of the buried box no longer merit our concern. The jade isn't in it, huh? No, and so we depart. Your boss is going to hate you when he wakes up. Mr. Wells? Oh, perhaps you do not understand. The Ming jade screens were given in gratitude to a friend by one who unhappily had no right to give them. We were sent eleven years ago to bring them back. Sometime later, Mr. Wells made inquiries in various markets. This we learned and therefore believed he had some knowledge of the screens. Does he mean they've been spying on Wells all the time? We came to gain his friendship, to watch and wait. But now, there is no jade. Mr. Wells was wrong. We were wrong? Big Ling has the murder of Joe Pagalli to answer for. You're an accessory, Mr. Chong. Yes, I was wrong! Martin Wells was conscious, firing from the ground. His first slug caught Big Ling in the shoulder and set off a sudden bedlock. The second shot caught Ling turning as Red Nye moved forward. I got hold of Chong's gun. Wells was crawling away, but he made his shot count until Galli goes shoulder sent Ling crawling out of the line of fire. The fourth one was meant for me, but Chong's body jerked and relaxed in my arms. I dropped him and turned to put Martin Wells out of action, but Big Ling had beaten me to it. The giant Chinese was kneeling on Wells' back, a massive hand cupped on the Wells' chin. With the last ounce of his strength, he was crossing their head back. Then they both collapsed. You all right, Skipper? Yeah, OK, Red, but those three aren't. They'll never give anybody any more trouble. Come on, Red, take a look at that chest. Roger, Skipper. I see, Skipper! Mr. Gallider! Are you there? Over here, Rocky! Oh, my word. I thought I'd lost you. What have you found? Is it a treasure? How'd you get ashore? I swam. What is it? Uncle Martin. Yeah, Rocky, Uncle Martin. Look at him and forget him. You don't deserve him. Maybe I should have put it the other way around. Come on. And, uh, did you find anything, sir? Treasure? We tried to tell you, Rocky. You let your imagination get mixed up with the facts about finding treasure. Things like that are only accidental. Skipper! You see, you've got to learn to take things as they come. Captain Kitten, Long John Silver, out of your head, Rocky. Learn to steer by the stars, but don't try to reach him. Aye, sir. The chest is here, but... Yeah, but Skipper! The chest! It's filled with these. Fuck. Yeah. Oh, I thought it was much more difficult than this. Red, you're crazy. You can't be. Well, look at him. Feel him. Oh, blast the chest full. My word is full, isn't it? Look at the chest. Uh, please, uh, would one of you mind moving over so I could feel him, too? Oh, yeah, Rocky. Here. Here. Isn't it exciting? But I thought treasure hunting would be much more difficult than this. Never mind, Red. Don't say it. Now we can cover them up again and make a map of our own. Cover it up. Cover it up. Nothing. We'll take it and then cash it. What makes you talk like that, Rocky? What's the matter with you? Well, I thought we could come back for it later. And in the meantime, well, we could sail away in your ship and find some more. Oh, it's great fun, isn't it? Look, Rocky, this just happened to work out this way. It doesn't usually. But I'm sure there's more of it. Pirates buried loads of treasure. But it's just legend, Rocky. It doesn't mean that... But you didn't believe me this time, did you? No, Rocky. I didn't. But it wasn't a dream. You didn't believe it, but I was sure of it every minute that we'd find the treasure. Maybe that's the difference, Rocky. We've forgotten how to believe as strongly as you do. Maybe if we hadn't, we three could find all the treasure in the world. You know, I do wish there was a way to make you both 14 again. Or we'd have a jolly time sailing around in your ship. You know, I'd go for that myself. I wish you could work it out, Rocky. I wish you could. Out of port the next afternoon, we turned over the iron-bound wooden buccaneers' chest full of pieces of eight-and-dub balloons to authorities in Wellington. After the customary report to the Crown, Rocky stood to keep a start of it all for himself, taxes deductible. We put him on the train for Auckland, wired his aunt, and turned Martin Wells and the Oriental pair over to the local morgue. Maybe they should have used more of Rocky's brand of belief and less of their own brand of violence. The footers and the men swung rhythmically to their stations when Red fall them into action. That's the full-tone breeze. The jib's cracked out. The music of wind and rigging. And danced through the lace-tipped crest as if all the world was watching. How will she take Skipper? Yeah, ride into it like a feather, Red. Some kind of a different feeling about her today. Oh, that's not hard to figure out. Good kid, Skipper. Road dreamer, but plenty of guts in the finches. Now, rocking him wells the third. I can't figure out. What's that, Red? Just how did he know that chest was gonna be full of doubloons? How did he know the chest was even there? I don't know, Red. Near his age, imagination gets mixed up with reality. You can't always tell which is which. I don't know, with faith in your dreams, maybe there's no difference. I wonder how come the queen let him aboard in the first place? Maybe he talked to her. This little lady knows what she's doing. Here's Skipper to the queen of the Scarlet Queen and happy treasure hunting. After you, mate. After you. 30 p.m. Winds fresh, cresting with high crosswell. Ship secure for night. Find Phillip Pond. I want to thank Roddy McDowell for being with us tonight. Glad to have you aboard the queen, Roddy. My pleasure, Elliot. Phil Carney is a favorite radio hero in our household. You're still able to give a mighty convincing performance of a 14-year-old soul, even though you're now 19, and an associate producer with Linsley Parsons Productions for Monogram. What's your latest picture? Well, our latest, Elliot, is the story of a dog. And by way of coincidence, the title of the film is Rocky. Well, I hope tonight will prove itself a good omen. You did yourself proud as Rocky III. Thanks, Skipper. Good night, Roddy. Mute will invite you to sail into further adventure on the voyage of the Scarlet Queen next week at the same time. Port O'Call, Sydney, Australia. Queen stars Elliot Lewis as Phil Carney with Ed Max as Gallagher. And tonight featured Roddy McDowell as Rocky. William Conrad was Martin Wells and Ben Wright played Chong. Music scored and conducted by Richard O'Rogh. The Scarlet Queen produced by James Burton is written by Gil Dowd and Bob Tolman.