SHORT STORY WEDNESDAY: THE PHANTOM DEATH

 "The Phantom Death" by W. Clark Russell (first published in The Idler, October 1893; republished as the title story in Russell's The Phantom Death and Other Stories, 1895; and in Waves of Terror, edited by Michael Parry, 1976)

In April 1840, having finished his business in South America, West booked passage out of Rio de Janiero to Bristol on the Lord of the Isles, a small barque with a company consisting of twelve men; West was happy to be the sole passenger for the Atlantic crossing for he had had a disagreeable crowded crossing earlier while traveling from England to Brazil.  On this voyage, both the crew and the captain were pleasant companions.

On the eighth day out, West shared drinks with the captain in the captain's cabin before retiring for the night.  The next morning he was awakened by the first mate, who was horrified at the state in which he had found the captain:  "Captain Joyce lay in his bunk dressed in a flannel snirt and a pair of white drill rousers.  All his throat and a considerable portion of his chest were exposed, and his feet were naked.  I looked at him scarcely crediting my sight:  I did not know him as the man I had parted with  but a few hours ago.  He was swelled from head to foot as though drowned:  the swelling contorted his countenance out of all resemblance to his familiar face; the flesh of him that was visible was of a pale blue, as if rubbed with a powder of he stuff called 'blue' which the laundresses use in getting up their linen.  His eyes were open, but were rolled out of sight, and the 'whites', as they are called, were covered with red blotches."  His hand was cold, his breathing thin, and he soon began convulsions.  Within a few hours he was dead.

What had killed him?  What could cause such a rapid transformation to death?  The first mate was convinced that only a poison could be the cause.  West, himself, wondered if it could have been some illness that had lingered, latent, within his body from before he had set sail -- but that did not seem likely.  And if it was poison, how had it been administered?  If accidently, certainly not in food, for the captain ate only the same food as the rest of the crew, who remained unaffected.  If it had been self-administered, where was the poison now?  No trace of it could be found in the cabin.  Or could he have been deliberately poisoned by someone on the ship?  But the captain was well-liked by all on board, no one had a reason to harm him.  This might have to remain one of the mysteries of the sea as the crew went about their duties and the first mate took over the captain's quarters.

Then, a few days later, the first mate knocked on West's cabin, saying, "I am in terrible pain -- I am horribly ill -- I am dying."  Indeed he was.  Soon he was evincing the same symptoms the captain had.  As the convulsions grew upon him, he screamed, "Oh, my God!  I have been poisoned -- I am dying!" Within five hours he was dead, his skin an even darker blue than West had noted in the captain.  Was it really poison, and if so, how?  Or could it be some form of the plague?  Was there some human explanation?  Or was the ship in the grip of some supernatural hand?

The second mate took over the running of the ship, moving into the late captain's quarters, where the navigating instruments were.  Sailors can be a superstitious lot, and within another two days, the second mate apologetically locked West into his cabin, saying the the crew suspected west had a hand in the two deaths and were afraid, if West were to remain free, he might then somehow kill him (the second mate) next.  For West's safety, and the ease of the crew's mind, he was to remain locked in his cabin for the rest of the cruise; a young steward would bring him his meals but he would otherwise have no contact with the rest of the ship.

A few days later, West was released by the boatswain with the deepest apologies of himself and the crew.  They knew now that West could have had nothing to do with the mysterious deaths because the second mate had just succumbed to the same horrid fate.

The Lord of the Isles had two problems.  How had three men died such a grisly death and will others meet the same fate?  And, without the captain and his officers, there was no one on board who knew how to navigate the ship, now in the middle of the Atlantic.  Things were starting to look bleak...

W. Clark Russell (1844-1911) although born in New York, was the son of a well-known English composer and his first wife.  Russell went to sea at age thirteen, joining the United Kingdom's Merchant Navy, spending eight years at sea, leaving after his health was permanently damaged.  His experience at sea gave him plenty of fodder for his career as a writer.  No one since Captain Marryat some forty years before had written so convincingly about the sea from actual knowledge.  In Masters of Victorian Literature, 1837-1897, Richard D. Graham wrote that Russell "is the true successor of Marryat, and may even be aid to excel the older writer in the power with which he has described the cruel mystery of the sea, its dangers, and the crimes and superstitions of the men who do business upon it."  The majority of the 57 novels he published were sea stories.  His novels included The Wreck of the Grosvenor, the Frozen Pirate, and The Death Ship.  Among his admirers were Herman Melville, Algernon Swinburne, and Arthur Conan Doyle (in "The Five Orange Pips," Doyle had Dr. Watson "deep within one of Clark Russell's fine sea stories").

Russell's wide popularity allowed him to advocate for merchant seaman, whose hardships had been unchanged since the repeal of the Navigation Acts in 1854.  Ships were being sent out to sea overladen and undermanned, and unscrupulous shipowners were proving deplorable rations for the seamen on their ships.  The naval reforms of 1880, 1883, 1889, and 1892 owed much to Russell's influence, as did the eventual inclusion of seamen and firemen being represented on the shipping commission.  The future King George V said that the great improvements in the conditions of the merchant service owed much to Clark Russell's writings.  His sympathy toward the brutal treatment captive natives of Tasmania faced at the time helped record and reveal the atrocities done by the British.

Many of W. Clark Russell's books are available to be read online.  The Phantom Death and Other Stories can be found on Project Gutenberg.

OVERLOOKED FILM: TEENAGE DEVIL DOLLS (1955)

How bad a movie can you make for $14,000, $4000 of which you borrow from your wife?  The answer is pretty bad, especially if you write, produce, direct, edit, and star in the movie yourself.  For some reason this is the only film that Bamlet Lawrence Price, Jr., a former Army Air Force pilot, ever produced, the only film he ever directed, the only film he ever edited, and the only film he ever starred in.  Perhaps it was because Price made this movie as his Master's thesis while he was a student at UCLA Film School.  Or, perhaps it was because he had no talent.  It was filmed in 1953 and released two years later.

I have no idea what happened to "Bam" (as he was known) after this, other than a string of broken marriages -- four of them, the first was to actress Anne Francis (Forbidden Planet, Bad Day at Black Rock, The Blackboard Jungle, television's Honey West); she was the one who loaned him the four grand.  Bam's marriage toll was as follows: Anne Francis (1952-1956), Diane J. Coldwell (1958-1966), Margaret E. Richardson, (1973-1976), and Diana Joy Dubois (1981-1988).  No, I have never heard of the last three either.  The only other reference I could find about Bam was that famed songwriter Robert Sherman once confused him with Hollywood choreographer Marc Breaux in a photo because they looked somewhat similar.

About the film, also known as One Way Ticket to Hell, here's Steven Puchalski's take, from his book Slimetime:  A Guide to Sleazy, Mindless Movies:  "This is an obscure, anti-drug, anti-juvenile delinquent, anti-rebellion morality story, all told in not-so-glamorous Dragnet style narration...it's overwrought, paranoid, fear-mongering, and totally idiotic...basically, this is drug-paranoid propaganda at its bleakest and least entertaining, with grainy black and white photography, static direction...it just drones on for sixty or so minutes, and though the plot tries to be controversial and hard-hitting, the flick is actually so unsleazy that it never gets off the ground."  Compared to this, Reefer Madness comes off as a big-budget, Oscar-worthy film.

Pretty Cassandra Leigh (Barbara Marx, no other credits on IMDb) gets mixed up with the wrong group in high school.  They are delinquent bikers, and soon she is doing drugs, failing classes, and losing out on any chance of college.  She marries Johnny Adams (Robert Norman, one role in an episode of Fireside Theatre in 1951, one episode of I Love Lucy in 1956 as an uncredited trumpet player in a band, and an unnamed character in the 1957 television movie Aladdin), her clueless high school sweetheart, but soon slides back into her old destructive habits.  Bam plays Miguel "Cholo" Matinez, the biker who leads Cassandra astray.  The film is narrated by Kurt Martell as police lieutenant David Jason; Martell was in four episodes of Dragnet (1953-1955), played himself in one episode of You Asked for It, and had uncredited roles in two films in 1952.  Although Martell narrated the film as David Jason, he did not get to play the character on-screen -- that job fell to Robert A. Sherry, whose only other credit was an uncredited role in the previous year's The Bridges at Toko-Ri.  In fact, none of the actors on-screen had any lines, none, nada, zip.  This adds to the phony documentary feel of the film while also cutting down on expenses.

So, is a film this bad worth watching?  You bet your exploitative boots it is!  How can you pass up a gem like this?

Please note that the link brings you to a slightly shortened version of the film, but to make up for it, it includes the movie's trailer.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WI7twb_8xVA

FROM THE OTHER SIDE

Well, Isaiah came and went and we survived.

Despite a few branches hitting the roof, no damage was done to the house.  We lost at least six big trees in the backyard, the backyard fence is now toast, and a portion of the back porch was taken out  -- all in all, not a big deal.  Everyone is fine, including animals.  We lost power at 7:05 Friday evening and it just cane back at 8:00 tonight (Sunday), although it is flickering a bit.  We are under a boil water watch.  At least one gas station and a couple of stores are open so we can get food (much of the stuff in the refrigerator may have to be tossed).  Roads are clear; the one tree that fell a cross our street was cleared up by Saturday afternoon.

Jessie lost a couple of trees and part of her back yard fence.  The shingles were blown off the roof of an old she on her property, but her roof is in good condition.  She got power back late on Saturday.

Erin got her power back about three hours ago.

Kaylee and Amy are still without power.  They lost a couple of trees and one window shutter.

Mark, who had to face the storm the the Gulfarium, which is directedly on the Gulf, is doing okay.  Mark is very laidback and nothing bothers him, so the storm could have done absolutely no damage or could have destroyed buildings and exhibits, freeing various alligators and reptiles and sharks and manatees and other wildlife, and Mark would still say it's no big deal and handle it, so who knows?

Christina, a local police dispatcher, was on twelve-hour shifts for the duration.  During the storm, the police station lost its power, its generator, its water (thus no working toilet, yuck!), and all communication devices and had to resort to using pen and paper, while her partner passed the messages on to the police on duty via text.  Several police cars were in accidents and one firefighter broke his arm when a branch landed on him.  Everything was back to what passes for normal on Saturday, and Christina was able to shower at the police station earlier this evening.

Saturday morning, Walt Senior was in extreme discomfort, so Walt took him to the hospital where he was finally released early Saturday evening; on his way back home Walt Senior bought me a cup of coffee (with the power out, he wasn't able to make his morning two pots of coffee).  Saturday, Erin, Trey, and Jack began clearing some of the mess in the back yard and on the roof; we're now able to walk a good portion of the yard; a professional tree service will have to deal with the rest of it.  It's also heartwarming to see many of our neighbors out helping each other.

So, in short, all is fine.  It could have been much worse.

Being without power and locked out of the internet, I don't know how much damage Isaiah (and, yes, I learned how to pronounce the name) has done since making landfall.  It will be interesting, and most likely saddening, to find out.

ISAIAH

We are battening down the hatches in preparation for Hurricane Isaiah to land here tomorrow.  Everything has been moved indoors; I have all the potted plants from the front yard in my bedroom; Christina and Walt have the front porch swing in theirs.  Plywood has been placed over all the windows.  Cars have full tanks of gas.  Gallons and gallons of water have been set aside and we have plenty of pet food.  We are ready, and praying that the storm will be a big nothing burger.

It's at a Cat 2 now and, depending on which news source you go to, may increase to a Cat 3 or shrink to a Cat 1.  [UPDATE:  As of 7:45 Friday morning it is now a Cat 3.]  Thank you, Donald Trump, for slashing the budget of NOAA.  Also, it appears that the center of the storm will be in the middle of out driveway.  A three- to five- to seven- to nine-foot storm surge, again depending on who you listen to.  Winds from 85 to over 110 mph, who knows?  The Three-Mile Bridge over Pensacola Bay will be closed once winds hit 35 mph.  [UPDATE:  the bridge was closed early Friday afternoon.]  School has been cancelled for the past two days.  Christina will be working at the police station on 12-hour shifts through the weekend (there appears there will be a problem in getting overtime for the storm); she packed a cot and sleeping bag in her car on the way in today.  Local police shifts are teaming up, but once the storm hits a certain size, they will not be responding immediately to emergencies; anyone kin trouble will have wo wait until it is safe for the police to respond.  The rumors at the police station are that ALL Waffle Houses in the area will be closed, so you know it's going to be bad.  [UPDATE:  1:37 pm Friday:  they have officially closed the local Waffle House.]  Amy, who works in the County traffic department. is expected to work from 7 to 7 over the next three days, doing technician and admin work not in her job description.  Kaylee and Ivory, who work at the County jail are expected to report in early so a shift can leave early; whether they will be able to leave when their shift is over is up in the air.  Okaloosa County has declared a mandatory evacuation, but Mark, who works at the Gulfarium on Okaloosa Island directly on the shore of the Gulf, can't evacuate because he is one of the few guys tagged to remain at the Gulfarium during the hurricane to keep an eye on the animals -- so we are concerned about his safety.  Casey's, a local chain gas station, has had several of its location run out of gasoline.  Walmart is out of both bottled water and Chef Boyardee.

Evacuation orders for many parts of Escambia County (Pensacola) and Santa Rosa County (us) went into effect this noontime.  [UPDATE:  The evacuation order for Santa Rosa County has been expanded to include "Zone C."  Christina checked the map before heading into work three hours early and "Zone C" literally ends JUST ONE HOUSE before ours.]

And Jim Cantore is having a jolly fine time reporting from Pensacola Beach.

It's going to be an interesting time.

See you on the other side.

BBC RADIO 4's SATURDAY NIGHT THEATRE: CHARLIE MUFFIN (JULY 5, 1986)

Brian Freemantle's Charlie Muffin, who appeared in sixteen novels over a forty-year period,  has been called on of the most underrated characters in spy fiction.  That should not stand!  "Most Muffin books follow a 'heist' story pattern.  Muffin has a mission, it appears he doesn't know what's going on, typically with higher ups plotting against him, until at the end it's revealed that he's figured out a way to flip the entire situation on its head while pulling one over on his betters,"  [Jeff @ Spywrite.com]  the books are fast, breezy, and entertaining, with the first in the series, Charlie Muffin (U.S. title Charlie M.), being consider a classic of the genre.  It was filmed in 1979 as Charlie Muffin (U.S. title A Deadly Game) by Jack Gold, with David Hemmings as Muffin, and featuring Ian Richardson, Sam Wanamaker, Clive Revill, and Sir Ralph Richardson.

The book was adapted for radio and appeared on BBC Radio 4's Saturday Night Theatre on July 5, 1986, with Philip Jackson (perhaps best recognized as Poirot's Inspector Japp) in the title role.  Also featured were Sandor Eles, Peter Howell, David Learner, Andrew Branch, Stephen Rashbrook, Peter Wood thorpe, Marcia King, Manning Wilson, Barrie Cookson, Don Fellows, John Church, Richard Durden, and Jennifer Piercey.  Directed by Matthew Waters.

Charlie's own Department is out to get him, but so is the KGB.  But Charlie Muffin is a survivor and he's determined to come out of it alive and rich.

Enjoy.

https://archive.org/details/brian-freemantle-charlie-muffin

SHORT STORY WEDNESDAY: ARREST

"Arrest" by Donald E. Westlake (from Manhunt, January 1958; reprinted in Giant Manhunt, 1958; in Opening Shots, edited by Lawrence Block, 2000; and in The Best of Manhunt 2, edited by Jeff Vorzimmer, 2020)

Let's face it, first published stories are not necessarily good stories; they are the ones, usually, that finally made it across and editor's desk and happened to fill a need that may or may not have required good writing.  As a rule, first stories are passable fiction.

Donald E. Westlake's "Arrest" was actually his third published story, but it was his first published crime story; it followed a brief six-page science fiction story published two years earlier and another brief sory in the early men's magazine Rogue in 1957.  At the time Westlake was working for famed (or, perhaps, infamous) literary agent Scott Meredith while at the same time submitting his own stories to Meredith.  One of the stories finally hit and was accepted for Manhunt, the hardboiled crime digest secretly edited by Meredith under another name; Manhunt, it turns out, was a virtual closed shop for Meredith's clients, although it would occasionally range further (and pay a bit  more more money) to get "big-name" writers to promote on its covers.  (Meredith was noted for being penny-pinching, the literary agent equivalent of Hugo Gernsback, perhaps.)

William Winthrop, 24, comes home to his apartment, gets a gun from the bureau drawer and puts it to his head.  He can't pull the trigger.  He throws the gun at a mirror, breaking it, has a few drinks, smokes a few cigarettes, then dresses in a conservative gray suit.  And waits.  Soon the police arrive.  He calls a friend -- a lawyer -- who says he wants nothing to do with him.  He offers the cop a drink, which is refused, and then they head off together to where he will be booked for his mother's murder.

A mood piece, nothing special, but fairly evocative.  Even with this rude beginning, there are hints of Westlake's future talent,

Westlake, of course, would go on to become one of the most honored and respected mystery writers of the last half of the twentieth century, the creator of violent thief Parker and of bumbling thief John Dortmunder -- both highly popular and influential characters.  He was a three-time Edgar winner, one of the few to win in three different categories -- best novel, best short story, and best motion picture screenplay.  He was named a MWA Grand Master in 1993.  All of his books are highly recommended.

OVERLOOKED FILM: THANK YOU, JEEVES! (1936)

If you are a P. G. Wodehouse purist you might not fully appreciate this adaptation of the master's 1934 novel -- actually, the very first full-length novel following a successful series of short stories.

Bertie Wooster is here and Jeeves is here and the book title is here, but that's about it.  The plot and characters have been changed almost unrecognizably.  In the  novel, Sir Roderick Glossip, the famous nerve specialist, hopes to marry the aunt of Bertie's friend Lord "Chuffy" Chuffnell, while Chuffy has fallen in love with one of Bertie's ex-fiances, Pauline Stoker, whose father Chuffy hopes to sell his falling-down manor.  Bertie, eager to please his old pal, plans to make Chuffy so jealous that he will propose to Pauline.  Things get out of hand, everyone displays their stupidity, and Jeeves is left to sort out the mess.

For the film, say goodbye to Chuffy, his aunt, Roderick Glossip, Pauline and her father.

From IMDb:  "Erudite manservant Jeeves hopes to keep his frivolous employer Bertie out of new harrowing adventures, but a damsel in distress, carrying half of some mysterious plans, intrudes on their London flat one rainy night.  Bertie follows her to the country hotel Mooring Manor, prepared to do slapstick battle with crooks posing as Scotland Yard men."  

Featuring David Niven as Bertie, Arthur Treacher as Jeeves, and Virginia Field as the mysterious woman.  Buried down in the cast is Willie Best as Drowsy, a hitchhiking saxophonist who helps them catch the crooks.  

Niven makes a good Bertie and Treacher made his bones playing Hollywood's idea of the perfect butler in the 1930s.  Treacher went on to lend his name to the fast food franchise Arthur Treacher's Fish and Chips, beginning in 1969; it had 826 stores in the 1970s, but has dwindled down to just four stand-alone stores in northeastern Ohio today.  Sic transit gloria mundi.  Wodehouse, BTW, did not care for Treacher's performance"  "Awful. The supercilious ,manner of his is all wrong for Jeeves."   Complaining about the film adaptation, Wodehouse said, "They didn't use a word of my story, substituting another written by some studio hack."

That studio hack was actually two people, Joseph Hoffman (The Officer and the Lady, Against All Flags, Has Anybody Seen My Gal) and Stephen Gross (his only screenplay).  Directed  by Arthur Greville Collins (Paradise Isle, Seven Little Australians, Strong Is the Seed).  

Despite the butchery to the source material, Thank You, Jeeves! can be a pleasant and amusing way to spend your 57 minutes.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N7yk3lSER9I&t=6s