The strange Dr. Weird.
Good evening.
Come in, won't you?
You seem a bit nervous.
Perhaps a story would take your mind off whatever's worrying you.
I have a very important matter to discuss.
I'm sure you'll like it.
It takes place on a tiny island in the mystery-haunted South Pacific.
And I call it White Pearls of Freedom.
And now for my story, White Pearls of Terror.
In the small harbor of the tiny island of Barota,
a barren, desolate bit of coral lost in the South Pacific,
a dilapidated pearling boat rides at anchor
in a trading shack of corrugated iron on the shore.
Two burly-bearded white men watch a half-breed merchant
gather together supplies,
listening as they wait to the monotonous beating of a native drum
in the darkness outside.
Repeat, sake, Wong. What's that infernal racket anyway?
Honored Father sacrifices chicken to turn away anger
out of the storm card, Captain Blake.
Well, tell him to stop it. It's getting on my nerves.
Take it easy, Blake. We'll be gone in a few minutes.
The glass is falling fast and there is a storm coming up.
We're in the typhoon season now, you know.
And I'll be plenty glad to see the last of this rotten speck of coral,
believe me.
Even though we're leaving with empty pockets, we can't go too soon.
Wong, sorry you'll find no pearls. Another year better, maybe.
Here are supplies. 11 dollars.
All right, pay him, Phelps.
In a moment. Wong, why do you and your father live all alone here on Barota?
Don't you ever find it lonely?
Wong, an honored father never lonely, Mr. Phelps.
You know, Wong, in Tahiti I met a native who knew you.
He told me your mother was Chinese and your father used to be a Tahiti witch doctor.
Ah, it's true. You pay now, please.
He told me something else, too.
He said the two of you live here because you know a secret pearling bed down the reef
and that eating it is a good thing.
You have a leather bag full of the finest white pearls that ever came out of the South Seas.
It's not true.
I think it is. Grab him, Blake.
No, no, no, no.
Stand still, Wong, or I'll break your arm.
It's not true, Wong, an honored father have no pearls.
And I say it is true.
And so we're not leaving Barota with empty hands.
Before we leave Wong, you're going to tell us where you keep those pretty white pearls.
Phelps, I'm going out there and put a bullet through that infernal witch doctor father of Wong's.
That drum is driving me crazy.
Ah, stop it, Blake.
We got to finish with Wong and get away.
There's a storm coming up and we got to be well offshore when it hits.
All right, then. Make him come out.
A little more pressure on this cord around this for it.
Ah, ah, ah.
Yeah, well, Wong.
Yes, Wong, sir. Wong, tell the old one.
Yeah, it's more like it.
Ah, where are they?
The cord behind you.
The board is loose.
Take a look, Blake.
Right, sure.
Oh, oh.
Yeah, there's a loose board here, all right.
And a little leather pouch under it.
I've got it.
Bring it here. Let's take a look.
Yeah, hold out your hand. I'll pour him out.
Oh, look.
Six white pearls as big as marbles.
Only six.
Yeah, there should be more.
Where are the rest, Wong?
Oh, no more, please. Six pearls all...
Wait a minute. I think he's telling the truth.
It helps. Listen, I find it weird.
We got to get outside the reefs in a hurry.
All right. I thought there'd be more.
But these six will do nicely.
They should bring a couple of thousand apiece.
In two months, we'll be in San Francisco living like kings.
No, too late.
What do you mean?
Listen.
The drum. It's got to be in the
drum. It's getting louder.
Listen to it.
Now, stop.
And God of the storm hath answered.
Prayer of honored father for vengeance accepted.
What are you talking about?
Honored father knows you taught your wongs.
In the darkness, he makes prayer to bring punishment.
Now he will make sacrifice. Listen.
Ah!
What was that?
Honored father makes greater sacrifice to his gods.
He gives his own life.
Now you have pearls.
But they bring you only evil.
They bring you death.
The creeping death that walks with you in life.
When you hear the drum, think of the father of wong and the death he sent you.
Shut him up! Will you make him stop?
Shut him up!
Yeah, that's that.
Now they're both dead.
Come on. We got to get to the boat.
Hey, folks.
Eh?
Listen to that wind. It's too late.
We can't get away.
We can't get away!
Our story will continue in a moment.
But first, is there a doctor in the house?
Young man, I am a doctor.
Oh, so you are, Dr. Weird, after a fashion.
But can you handle this case?
I cure all cases.
Heh. Permanently.
Well, here are the facts.
The patient is seen frequently in business offices.
On street corners. Everywhere.
His clothes are always neat.
Impeccably stylish.
Yet something about him just isn't right.
Brief diagnosis shows he's in perfect shape.
Except for his hat.
Gentlemen, this may be your case.
Too often, a poorly made shapeless hat can spoil your whole appearance.
Don't take chances.
Choose a smart, up to the minute, Adam.
They're correctly shaped and styled.
And made of the finest all-fur felt.
No wonder men who are tops in the business, sport, and entertainment world wear an Adam.
For Adam is tops in hats.
So stop in at any Adam store or authorized dealer.
There are thousands from coast to coast.
And set yourself up in a nice new Adam hat.
Now, Dr. Weird.
And now to continue my story, White Pearls of Terror.
For two days, a typhoon raged over the tiny island of Barota.
While Phelps and Blake cowered inside the trading shack that had belonged to the dead half-breed merchant Wong.
The wind hurled their boat on the reefs and sank it.
Blew down most of the palm trees on the island.
And wade away to storehouse where Wong's provisions had been kept.
When at last the wind died and the sun shone again,
Blake and Phelps crawled out of the shack to stare dazedly at a scene of utter desolation.
Phelps, look, the boat's gone.
We're stranded here. I tell you, we're stranded here.
Oh, stow it, Blake. There'll be a trading vessel along soon.
Yeah, but suppose there isn't. We'll die here.
The grove's open, washed away. The palm trees are down.
We'll start to death.
It's the curse, the curse Wong's father put on us.
We shouldn't have taken the pearls. We shouldn't have taken them.
I said stow it. Suppose we have to stay here a few months.
We got the shack for shelter and we can live on shellfish.
We stowed out the pearls. When we do get away, we'll live like kings.
We'll never get away. We're gonna die here.
All during the storm, I heard that drum beating, the witch doctor's drum, telling us we're going to die here.
Get a grip on yourself, will you?
Wong's dead. The old witch doctor's dead too.
Their bodies are gone. The sharks have finished them by now.
When we are rescued, we only have to say they were killed in a storm.
And we'll be in the clear. We'll be all right.
No, no, the drum. I heard it beating.
We'll never get away. We're gonna die.
This'll shut you up.
There. I say we're gonna be all right.
The days became weeks and the weeks became months.
Blake and Phelps lived on shellfish and coconuts and drank rainwater.
Day after day, they scanned the horizon, a sign of a rescue ship.
And day after day, Blake's despair mounted.
Blake, Blake, come on, get up.
It's your turn to go down to the beach and dig clams and keep an eye out for the sharks.
No, it's no use. We're never going to be rescued.
We may be rescued today. Come on now, turn out.
I tell you we're gonna stay here forever. We're gonna die here.
We're still alive, ain't we?
Alive. Nothing to eat but clams and crabs and coconuts.
I'd rather be dead. You hear me? I'd rather be dead.
I tell you we're gonna be rescued. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow.
Listen, do you hear me?
No, I didn't hear anything.
There it goes again. Don't you understand?
It's a ship. We're as good as rescued right now.
I didn't hear anything except the drum.
The old witch doctor's drum.
It's beating again just like it did that night.
Blake, get hold of yourself.
Come on, I'll prove that with the ship we heard.
Here, come on down to the shore.
The drum. I can hear the drum.
Look, I can hear the drum.
I can hear the drum.
Look, Blake, a British gunboat off the reefs
and a ship's boat heading for the shore. We're saved.
No, it's too late. The drum.
He said when we heard the drum to remember his vengeance,
the creeping death.
Blake, get hold of yourself, will you?
Hello, hello, the island.
They see us. They call us.
Oh, we're saved and we got the pearls.
In a month we'll be in San Francisco living like kings.
Well, no, it's too late.
The drum is beating. It's bewitching the pearls.
We haven't got any pearls anymore.
They've stuck to your face now.
Little round pearls, two of them, three of them.
They're stuck to your face.
I tell you there's no drums beating.
It's just your mind. It's...
There.
Now you hear it too, don't you?
No, but on your face.
Two little white spots, silvery white spots.
Yes, they're the pearls that have been bewitched.
The drum. You listen to it?
Blake, those silvery spots.
The drum, it won't stop.
Blake, we've been on this island almost a year.
Living in that stinking little shack where Wong and his father lived.
Eating out of their dishes, sleeping in their blankets.
That's louder and louder.
You know I know why Wong and his father lived here all alone.
They didn't want anyone to know.
That's what the marks on our face mean.
The creeping dead.
The drum. It says that we're never going to get away.
That we're going to die here.
Yes, your Roger. We are going to die here someday.
Because now nobody's ever going to take us off the island.
Wong and his father were lepers.
And now we're lepers too.
We've been on this island. We've both become lepers.
Well, how do you feel now?
Perhaps what you really need to steady your nerves is a nice trip.
A voyage to the South Seas.
You could stop at Barota and meet Phelps and Blake.
Yes, they're still living there.
Great alone.
They'd welcome a little company and...
Oh, you're going?
We'll drop you in again soon. I'm always home.
Just look for the house on the other side of the cemetery.
The house of Dr. Weird.