136- A Passenger to Bali

You, finding life rather dull, dreaming again of exotic places, wishing you were somewhere else, we offer you, escape. Escape with us now to a small freighter in the China Seas, and a sinister traveler who brings destruction to crew and ship the like.

As Ellis St. Joseph tells it, in his most unusual play, a passenger to Bali. The papers in my pocket read steamship round about 9,000 tons British registry. Master and owner, Captain English.

Stamped across the face was the clearance of port authority. I'd be glad to see the last of Shanghai. It's smell and it's waterfront filth. Cargo has been scarce. Now with our whole field for the first time in months, I didn't want to waste time.

I wanted to get underway before morning. Mr. Slaughter. Hi, Kevin. Would you step up here to the bridge, Mr. Potter? Oh, sir. Are we ready to sail, Mr. Hall? Secure, sir. All hands on board.

Oh, sir. Good. That's clear port, Mr. Slaughter. Yes, sir. Mr. Angle, dead body castle. Stand by. And kill the stern spring light. You're there on the dock. Like that line, foreign. Foreigner, dear lump of me.

Yeah, you can't board now. But my good fellow, I am a boy. His ship is about to sail. Who is it, Mr. Slaughter? Oh, someone who insists he talk when you, sir. Stay there. I'll be down.

Well, what is it? Have I the honor of addressing Captain English of the roundabout? I am Captain English. Allow me to introduce myself, Captain. I am the Reverend Walks, a missionary bound for battle. What can I do for you?

You can offer me your hand. Come to your point, Mr. Walks. We're about to sail. I am told your boat puts in a bure along the port of Bali. Is that correct? Yes. Good. Here you will find my passport and papers of identification.