 And the producer of radio's outstanding theatre of thrills, William M. Robeson. Now the serpent was more subtle than any beast in the field, and the Lord God said unto the serpent, Because thou hast done this thing, thou art cursed, and upon thy belly thou shalt go all the days of thy life. And so it has been ever after. With us, the snake has always been the heavy. Let the ancient Aztec venerate the plume's serpent Ketchakotl. Let the Babylonian believe that the twine snakes on a staff represented fertility, wisdom, and healing. Let the early Roman display the caduceus as a symbol of peace and neutrality. We know better. With us, a garter snake can panic a picnic, but a bushmaster loose on an ocean liner. Snake-proof your doors and windows, take a mill-town, and listen. As Jack Kelly stars in Martin Storm's great story, a shipment of mucophate, a tale well-calculated to keep you in suspense. I stopped on the wharf at La Guara, and looked up the gangplank toward the line of Chankay, standing there quietly at a moorings. The day was warm under a bright Venezuelan sun, and the harbor beyond the ship laid drowsy and silent. But all at once in the midst of those peaceful surroundings, a cold chill gripped me, and I shivered with sudden dread. The dread of the thing I was doing was about to do. But too much had happened to turn back now. I'd gone too far to stop. I set the box down on the edge of the wharf, placed it carefully so as to be in plain sight, and within gunshot of the captain's bridge. Then I turned and started up the gangplank. I knew what I was going to do, but I couldn't forget that a pair of beady eyes were watching every move I made. Eyes had never blinked and never closed, just watched and waited, and I... Oh, oh, excuse me, sir. I didn't see you. What is this, Mr. Warner? Hello, Mother Willis. How's the best-looking stewardess on the Seven Seas? Well, I'm... I'm fine, Mr. Warner. It is nice seeing you again. Wait a minute. That's a fine greeting after two months. Well, I have a great deal to do aboard. I don't believe a word of that. Sailing days tomorrow, you're simply avoiding me, that's all. Oh, no, really I'm not. And on the trip down from New York, you said I was your favorite passenger. And so you were, and now if you'll excuse me... Here, what's that you're carrying in your apron? Oh, nothing. Just supplies. Supplies? Let's have a look. No, please. What? That's a cat. Oh, it's Clara, Mr. Warner. Mr. Bowman said I had to leave her ashore and I just couldn't. Now who's Mr. Bowman? The new chief steward. He's English and fussy. Clara's been aboard with me for two years and I just can't leave her here in a foreign country. Especially with her conditions so delicate and all. Oh, yes, I see. Well, I hope you get away with it. You won't tell anyone. Not a soul. As a matter of fact, if things don't work out right, we may both end up smuggling. Most happy to have you aboard on the trip down two months ago, Christopher. And I'm very glad you're coming along with us on the run back to New York. Thanks, Captain Wood. There is one thing, though. I'm having a little trouble with the customsmen here and I wondered if you might... I can do it, Christopher. I just cabled your father this morning. Told him I'd have done it for you if I possibly could. He said a request from New York, you know. Yes, I thought he would. I wired him from upriver last week. I hate it to refuse, but it's absolutely out of the question. Captain Wood, I'm afraid I don't follow you. Responsibility to the passengers, son. We'll have women and children aboard. And on a liner, the safety of the passengers comes ahead of anything else. But with proper precaution, something might happen. I don't know what, but something might. You've carried worse things. There isn't anything worse. And any skipper of photo bear me out. No, Christopher, I simply can't take the chance. And that's final. Well, it wasn't final if I could do anything about it. I hadn't come down here to spend two months in that stinking back country and then be stopped on the edge of the wall. Two months of it. Heaths, rain, insects, malaria. I'd gone clear in past the headwaters of the Orinoco. Traveled through country where every step along the jungle trail might be the last one. Morning, Captain Wood. The man at the hotel said you wanted to see me. That's right, Chris. Sit down. Seems you weren't willing to let me understand the way we left them yesterday. I'm sorry to go over your head, Captain, but I had to. The museum sent me all the way down here for it, and I'm not going to be stopped by red tape. This will be the only live Bushmaster ever brought to the United States. If I had my way, bad orders are orders. Got a cable from the head office this morning. All right. Suppose we talk about pre-cortals. I'll handle it any way you say. It's got to have a stronger box. That crate's too flimsy. Oh, it's stronger than it looks. And that wire screen on top, it'll hold a wildcat. But anyway, I bought a heavy sea chest this morning. We'll put the crate inside of that. Well, sounds all right. Got a lock on it. Heavy padlock. It's fixed so the lid can be propped open a crack without unlocking it. The snake's got to have air. But in dirty weather, that lid stays shut. I'll take no chances. Well, all right, cat. We'll keep the thing in my cabin. Can't have it in the baggage room. And nobody on board to know about it. Whatever you say, cat. But we won't have any trouble. After all, it's only a snake. It doesn't have any magical powers. I saw Bushmaster in the zoo at Caracas once. Had it in a glass cage with double walls. It'd never move. Just lay there and look at you as long as you were in sight. You gave a man the creeps. Sorry, I didn't know they had a Bushmaster at the Caracas Zoo. They don't now. I found the glass broke one morning and the snake gone. The night Watchman was dead. They never found out what happened. Well, Watchman must have broken the glass by accident some way. The way they figured it. The glass was broke from the inside. We sail in four hours. Into the Caribbean with perfect weather. A sea as smooth as an inland lake. The barometer dropped a little on the third day but cleared up overnight and left nothing worse than a heavy swell. In spite of the calm seas and pleasant weather, I found myself feeling more and more often an ominous foreboding. I was developing an almost morbid fear of that snake. I stayed clear of the passengers pretty much. I got the habit of dropping into Captain Wood's quarters several times a day. He kept the heavy box underneath his berth. I had approached it quietly. Shined my flashlight through the open crack. Never once could I catch that 12-foot devil asleep or even excited. He'd be lying there half-coiled. His head raised a little scaring out of those beady black eyes waiting. It'd still be like that when I'd turn away to leave. Maybe that's what bothered me that horrible and constant watching and waiting. What in the name of heaven was he waiting for? Well, hello there, Miss Warner. Oh, how are you, Mother Willis? I bet you and the captain spend an awful lot of time around this cabin. I'm beginning to think the two of you must have some guilty secrets. Oh, no. No, nothing like that, Mother Willis. I don't know about Captain Wood, but I certainly don't have any guilty secrets. Well, she's running quite a swell out there, Mr. Bowman. Yes, it's a bit heavy all right, Mr. Warner. I imagine a storm passed through to the west of us yesterday when the glass dropped. Do you think it missed us then, huh? Oh, yes, it's what the mate figures. Certainly set up some water, though. This'll put half the passengers in their bunks. Makes it lovely for my department. Two thirds of them will want a steward to all their heads, sir. Well, I'll keep Mother Willis still busy. She'll just have... Hey, look at the size of that wave! Huh? Quite she-house, isn't it? We're going to take it on the fourth hour. Hang on! Oh, that was a freak if ever there was one. There's not another wave that size in sight. Well, you see him like that sometimes, so even in a calm sea. Well, I've got to get below, Mr. Warner. That water probably did some damage to the opposite deck. Yeah, I suppose it... What did you say? Huh? Oh, the Will Companion Way was open on the port side. Bridge cabins must have taken a pretty bad smash in. They're right below the... Was something wrong, Mr. Warner? Oh, no, no, nothing at all, Mr. Bowman. At least I hope not. Of course, I knew it was only one chance and a thousand. But the chances of that freak wave are one and a thousand, too. I stumbled down the Companion Way and along the passage to the captain's cabin. Oh, Mr. Warner. Mother Willis. Ah, isn't this cabin a mess? I'm trying to get some of these things out to dry. Yeah, well, uh, I just wanted to check. Where's that box that was under the captain's bunk? Oh, that. I just threw it out on deck. What? Oh, the desk over there slid into it. It was all smashed. But the small box inside it, but what happened to that? Oh, they were both splintered. Mr. Warner broke wide open. Oh, no. Oh, Mr. Warner. I mean, why does a sheet? Mother Willis, will you go find Captain Wood? Tell him to come down here immediately. Well, I got a great deal to do in here. Please, get him at once. Very well. I suppose I can finish up here later. I pulled open the top drawer of the bureau beside me. Took out the captain's flashlight and a loaded pistol. Mother Willis had left her mom standing by the door. I put my foot on the head of it and snapped off the handle. Every move I made turned into slow motion. I could hear my own heart beating. Slowly I started to search the cabin. Sudden heaps of clothing scattered around on a wet black floor. I punched at them one at a time, putting the gun cocked, the flashlight pointing along the stick. Nothing. I worked around the room throwing the light into the dark corners, the back of the desk under the bunker. Wherever I turned I could feel those cold and blinking eyes at my back watching and waiting. In the stick I pushed open the closet door and threw the light inside. Carefully I poked at the boxes and junk on the floor. The snake was not in the closet. Inch by inch I covered the entire cabin and only... Only then a horrible realization began to dawn on me. Captain Wood. Mother Willis just told me. Well, Christopher. So it's happened. That's right. It's happened. I see you found the gun. You'd better start searching the cabin here. Captain Wood. I just finished searching it. Then... Women. Kids. That thing loose on board. A thousand places worth to hide. God help us, Christopher. There's no use starting to blame anybody now, gentlemen. I didn't call you in here to pass judgment. The thing's done. And that's that. You're right there, Captain. What we have got to do is make up our minds how we're going to handle it. Well, it would be easier if we didn't have to tell the passengers and crew. I've seen panic the board line as before, sir. Yes, I agree with you, Mr. Bowman, but I don't quite see how we can avoid it. I've got a right to know, sir. As long as that snake is loose, everybody on board's in the same danger. And they all ought to know about it. Captain Wood, that snake is 12 feet long. It can't simply crawl into a crack. Why don't we make a quick search of the whole ship before we spread any along? Yes, I thought of that, Christopher. Well, as far as I can see, the only place it couldn't be is in the boiler on top of the galley stove. It might have crawled overboard. We can't count on that. We've got to assume it's on the ship somewhere. Yes, sir. And that could be anywhere, in a coil of rope or in a pile of clothes. Yes, or under some woman's birth or a baby's crib. We've already said it. That bushmaster could be anywhere. We've got to do something and we've got to do it fast. All right. I think the best idea is to follow Mr. Warner's suggestion and make a quick search first. You agree to that? Yes, I do, sir. Then if we don't find it, we'll have to warn the patenter. We've got to find it. Alone in the dim baggage room, I went through the same movements as I had earlier in the captain's cabin. Gun in one hand, flashlight in the other. Hulking into every dark corner behind every trunk and box. Since the baggage room was empty, I could keep the gun cocked and ready. The rest of those poor devils were having to do the same thing. Bare-handed. All over the ship, the search went on. Now, steward, what on earth are you doing, rummaging through my cabin? Just checking, madam. Well, I'm quite sure there's nothing in here that has to be checked. I'm sorry, madam. It's captain's orders. It'll only take a few minutes. Well, I never heard of such a thing. A patenter simply doesn't have any privacy at all. I've traveled on a lot of different lines, but I've certainly never heard of such a thing. But not one of us could find that deadly shape coiled in some dark corner or outstretched along a window seat. Not one of us caught a glimpse of that horrid head with its beady black watchful eyes. That thing lay waiting out there somewhere along the deck shaded in the gathering dust. But where? He didn't know. It was nearly dark when we met together again in the chart room. Well, gentlemen, there's no other way around it. We've risked all the time we can. We've got to warn the passengers. How are we going to do it, Captain? Call them all together in the lounge? No. If we did anything like that, we'd be asking for a panic. We'll get one whether we are supported or not, sir. Take a few men and go through the cabin decks. Tell them individually, inside their cabin. Bought for any that act like they might cause trouble, and we'll keep an eye on them. Handle the crew the same way. Yes, sir. As soon as you're finished, arm all the deck officers and start searching again. Our only chance of preventing a panic is to find that damnable snake. The second night passed, and morning came around. Grey and rainy days dragged by, and the night came down again. Third night of the terror. Again, every light burned the whole ship's seed in the throes of incipient revolt. Faced by a horror they'd never met on the sea before, crew and officers alike were on the verge of panic. Passengers huddled in a trance like stupor, ready to scream at the slightest unknown sound. Seven bells I made my way forward to the chart room and found Captain Wood bent over a desk. Oh. Oh, come on in and sit down. It's got to be somewhere, Captain. It's got to be. I don't know. You could search this ship for six months and never cover all the places aboard. If we can only hold out for two more days, we'll be in. What's your home office say? It is the latest wireless room. Keep quiet and keep coming. What else can we do? Cigarette? Yeah, thanks. How is it below? Pretty bad. Anything could happen. Yeah, that's why I took the guns away from the men. One pistol shot, and we'd have a riot on our hands. The whole thing's my fault, Captain Wood. That's what I can't forget. Take it easy, lad. There was only some way I could pay for it myself, alone. No, I know how you feel. But it's no more your fault than mine. Well, the man who asked you to bring that snake back alive. Nobody planned this. You better try to get for a little sleep. Sleep. Mr. Bowman made some coffee down in the stewards' gallery a while ago. Go on down and get yourself a cup. And rest for a couple of hours. Rest? I can't rest. Christopher, it's not going to help anything if you stumble through a hatch half asleep and break your neck. Go on and get some coffee. One way or another, we've got to hold out for two more days. The light was on in the stewards' gallery, and the coffee pot was standing on the stove. It was still warm, so I didn't bother to heat it. I poured out a cup. Carried it over and set it on the porcelain tabletop in the center of the room. It started light as a cigarette. The door of the pan covered beneath the sink was standing slightly ajar, and I happened to glance toward it. The light was on in the stewards' gallery and the coffee pot was standing on the stove. It was still warm, so I didn't bother to heat it. I dropped the cigarette and moved slowly backward. I found the bushman. As I moved, the snake slid out of the cupboard in a single, sinuous glide and drew back into a loose coil on the galley floor, never taking his eyes off me. I moved slowly back, waiting any moment for that deadly, slithering strike. How had he known it was me? I stayed quiet when Bowman was here. How had he picked the first time in five days that I was without a gun? My hands touched the wall behind me and I stopped. Only then I realized in terror what I'd done. The cold button and the door were on the far side of the room. I backed into a dead end. I stared at the snake in fascination, expecting any moment the ripping slash of those poison fangs. Carried coils, tightened the little end and was still again. Ten million years of evolution to produce this moment. Fomeo sapiens versus Lycaceus mootus. A man against mute faith and all the odds were on faith. I knew then I was gonna die. I could feel the sweat run down between the wall and the palms of my hands pressing against it. My skin crawled and twitched. The pit of my stomach was as cold as ice. There was no sound but the rush of boredom in my ears. The snake shifted again, drawing into a tighter coil, always tighter. I didn't the devil get it over with. For an instant his head veered away. Something moved over by the stove. I didn't dare to look at it. Slowly it moved into my line of vision. It was a cat. A scrawny cat that Mother Willis had sneaked aboard in La Guara. It was arched and every care stood on end. It moved skip-legged now, walking in a half circle around the snake. The bushmaster moved slowly, kept watching the cat and tightened. He was going to strike at any second. He struck and missed. The cat was barely out of reach. Now she was walking back and forth again. She was asking to die. Missed again by a fraction of a niche. He was striking now without even going to a full coil. Missed again and again. Always missing by the tiniest margin. Each time the cat danced barely out of reach and each time she counted with one precise spat of a dainty paw, bracing her skinny frame on three stiff legs. And then suddenly I realized what she was doing. The bushmaster was tiring and one strike was just an instant slow, but in that split second, shark claws raked across the evil head and ripped out both the littlest eyes. The cat had deliberately blinded the snake. He didn't bother to coil now, the fury striking wildly, but always missing. And every strike was a little slower than the last one until finally as the snake's neck stretched out at the end of a strike, the cat made one way to tank her razor sharp teeth just back at the ugly head, sank them until they crunched bone. With tooth and claw, she clung as the monster snake flailed and last on the floor, striving to get those tedious coils around her. Trying to break her hold, to shake off the slow and certain paralyzing death that gradually clipped over a minute last, all these struggles forever. I took a deep breath. The first in minutes. The cat lay on her side on the floor, panting and resting from the fight just over. She had a right to rest. Oh, that brave, beautiful alley cat had just saved my life and maybe others as well, but as I turned toward the stove, I suddenly became very humble and I knew all at once what a small thing a human being really is. I and others aboard were still alive only by the nearest exit. There were three reasons why that cat had fought and killed the world's deadliest snake and those three reasons came tottering out from under the stove on shaky little legs. Three kittens with their eyes bright with wonder and their tails stiff as hawkers. Up on the deck, hundreds of passengers were waiting for the news that the terror was ended. Well, they could wait a little longer. I pulled open the doors of a cabinet and found a can of milk and a saucer. And then I dropped down on my knees a scent of mute faith.