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Harold's Old Time Radio
Unsolved Mysteries - The Wireless Mystery
00:14:30
Unsolved Mysteries - The Wireless Mystery - Aired 1936
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Unsolved mysteries. Tonight's unsolved mystery deals with the saving of life rather than the loss of Is one of these true happenings which account for the fact that sailors, no matter what nationality, are vastly more superstitious than landlubbers? And when one considers the extraordinary happening aboard the Lure lane, who can be so bold as to blame. Sa. Sam? It is Christmas Eve aboard the liner Lauritania. Heavy seas and raging gales have buffeted the ocean greyhound since she left portsmouth. And now eight hours late, she is still 17 hours sail out of New York, driving sleet worlds along the decks. The dismal blasts of the siren cut through the fog, but below Captain Morris, in order to offset the disappointment of the passengers at not landing in time for Christmas Eve dinner, has ordered the salon decorated and an appropriate dinner served. Dinner is over and the captain genial, a trifle portly, but every inch the captain is entertaining a select group, including the ship's senior officers at the much envied captain's table. I think you've done splendidly, Captain Morris. Why, the salon looks as though she'd been preparing for Christmas festivities for months. Thank you, Ms. Vanwerle, but most of the credit belongs to my very able first officer. He is the genius who discovered that palm leaves and a pair of scissors can be used to turn out a very presentable synthetic holly. And a holly bearing. Mike, the chief engineer thought of that. Red beads from a shipment of Yokohama. Well, I for one am not disappointed at not landing. I'm enjoying myself immensely. Yes, I notice that you are. And I should think my first officer is too. Oh, now you're teasing. Tell me though, captain, in spite of all the festivities, aren't you nervous away from the bridge? No, not a bit of it. I have a very capable officer on watch and with wireless and everything. But the satanic had wireless too, Captain. Why too? Well, but not a wire with comfort, not radio beacon, and not Captain Morris's guardian in the unseen world. Now, Mac wheel, it's Christmas Eve. It's a true story. And the captain tells us better Wheel Indeed. Please tell us, Captain Morris. Well, I want you to understand something, all of you. Mac here was chief on the lower lane when this happened. Mr. Johnson, the first officer was second officer of the L lane. And Sam Benson, our present chief wireless operator, was also operator on the same ship. And it was a night pretty much like this howling gale, mountainous seas. Johnson's hands were numbed from hanging onto the siren cord. The crew was well nigh exhausted from standing double watches and Sam Benson and his assistant Tommy were in the stuffy little wireless cabin. What a mic this is. Yes. Almost any minute I expect a wireless cabin to be blown clear off the deck. Maybe I better get out there and loosen that rat tail. That line will get so tight, we'll have the antennas crashing down on the deck. I loosened it about an hour ago. It ought to be all right. The Aquapania, about 100 miles out of New York. How would you like to be the chief wireless aboard that floating palace like this? I feel a fellow's a fool to tip on any kind of proposal. Well, we're not as bad off as poor Mac down there in the engine room. Every time he rolls, the water all but touches the fire bars. And I suppose the siren's using all his steam. The old man still on the bridge? Yeah. He hasn't left except for a cup of coffee for two days now. First mate stood up there, too. Yes, the boat's standing there hanging onto the rail and getting their faces cut to ribbons of that fleet. Why don't you take off the earphones and throw the set onto that new speaker I built? On a night like this, I'm afraid to. Anything might happen. Some poor devil smash into an iceberg and we wouldn't be able to pick him up. You worry too much. That speaker will give you everything you can get on those old phones. Get a weak signal and try it. All right. See that? What did I tell you? A pretty nice job. All right. Sure your ears won't be ready to drop off from carrying those phones for eight hours of a stretch. You better turn in and get some sleep. Another day of this and I won't be able to keep my eyes open even if the booming ship goes down. All right. See you in the morning. If you listen. Listen. Am I crazy? Bar elect on your port, pal. Oh, that's what it said. Hang on. I'm going to the bed. Well, they for you, skipper. Now they call your port val. Your port val. Turn the wheel over. Hide it starboard hold feed aside. There it is. Right on it. Right on my wheel. Right on my wheel. Get the carpenter below. He must damage. He must have riff half the bottom out of it all. Handsome. I station. I send an sos, Sir. Wait for the carpenter's report. Yes, sir. What the name of all creations happen? Derelict man. I thought he'd run the ground. Nothing in the earth tore the engine out of his bed. Flight, though, might as well go below to that inferno of mine again. Of all the engine rooms I've Been in that one is one of the water. I need to thank your lucky stars for that wireless message. You'll be on your way to the bottom instead of the engine room. What's wireless? Nothing. Well, this warning is about that derelict. If we hadn't received that, we'd have plowed square straight into us. Wireless? Wireless? Yes. What's wrong with you, man? There's nothing wrong with me. What's wrong with you? How could you get a wireless message warning me about a derelict? What was that message exactly, Spike? A derelict on your port bow. How could any old ship tell you that you had a derelict on your port bow? Good Lord, you're right, Max. I never thought of that. In the emergency. How could any ship unless it was just a few feet from you, as close to the Daleks as you were? All right, Mac. What ship sent that message, Fox? He didn't give any name, sir, or call letters. But maybe you know the operator. His name is Watson. Watson? Watson, you think? Yes. No mistake about it. It's Watson. Why, sir? What's wrong, sir? You're looking White figure. Watson. Watson was my operator on the Acasta. He was washed overboard and drowned a year ago tonight. Why, I. I hardly know what to say, what to think. There are Two of us, Ms. Van Burrough. I never have known what to think. Could your wireless operator not have been mistaken? One might, but not two. Remember, both of them read the message. And what if they were both mistaken? That does not go away with the fact that all of our lives were saved by the warming that we were burned down on a derelict. There was no way in the world that any other ship could have known of the position of that derelict. And no other Watson could have sent that message? No, Ms. Van Burgh. No other Watson. Have you no explanation, Captain? Yes, I have an explanation. But whether or not it will satisfy you is another question. Well, any sort of explanation of an affair like that would be welcome. After you've heard from your sponsor, you will hear the captain's explanation of the wireless mystery. Sa. Ladies and gentlemen, the solution for which you have been waiting. In attempting an explanation of a thing like this, you must make certain concessions. Such as, Captain? Well, that Watson, for instance, snatched away from life without warning, without any preparation for death, would in his spirit form find himself in a realm where he would find it hard to adjust himself. In other words, Watson would still be hankering after the friends and associates he had left behind him on Earth. Right, Ms. Van Burrow. Since we know nothing of the beyond, we must make certain surmises. And if we accept the belief that consciousness lives on for eternity, then Watson would be entirely aware of the life he had so abruptly left. Watson would be in a realm where time at nothing, yesterday, today and tomorrow would all be one. Yes. And in that realm of timeless things, Watson would see that derelict bearing down on us, his friends. Who knows what agony of mind he went through trying in desperation to reach some mind in sympathy with his, seeking some way to warn us of the danger impending. I've thought of it. Imagine that disembodied spirit somewhere out there, mourning to itself in its anguished inability to warn us. I must warn them of. I must. I've tried to get their minds in tune with mine. If only I could get Spark's attention. That's an idea. To find a wireless operator half asleep at the key. One who could tap out a warning. He'd never even know he'd done it. That's it. That's it. And so, somewhere aboard a ship, a sleepy wireless operator under the influence of Watson, taps out the warning message that saved the lure Lane and her crew leaving the seas that realm of mysteries. Another unsolved mystery. Sam. Sa. Sam. It.