“. . . any tour of Bali must include a visit to one of the world’s few remaining natural, live volcanoes . . .”
Black Socks and his victim strained on the brink of orgasm. The camera captured them in graphic genital detail. The volcano erupted! The lava overflowed . . .
“Now that’s what I call ‘cinéma vérité’.” an anonymous film buff sighed.
Blaze Buxbocks and Mister Jewish rolled off the couch. A geyser spurted from between Sister Stella’s breasts. Binny Stanford screamed aloud as Gorilla balanced his full weight on her buttocks and delivered the coup de grace. Captain Maldemerde tried again, made a supreme effort, and succeeded, displacing Zelda Poppins in the process. Mario Brandino successfully finessed Mrs. West’s tonsils, Dr. Quotabusta and Mrs. South finished off their rubber without one, and Mrs. East and Mrs. North scored a mutual grand slam, trumping each others’ asses in spades! The two hands being played by Magda achieved a similarly satisfactory climax for Ensign Mayday and herself.
Queen Nimmfetah and I were not left behind. The sprightly teen-age ex-monarch was gripping and releasing me like a lemon-squeezer, riding up and down, digging her nails into the backs of my hands where they clutched her small, pointy breasts. Zwing Toy was licking away. Amidst the welter of sensations, I was fast reaching the point where I would explode.
I reached it! So did Queen Nimmfetah! We exploded! Together! And Zwing Toy yipped a happy yip . . .
“As the sun sinks slowly in the West, and we sail away over the horizon, we cannot help but cast a backward glance of sweet nostalgia at romantic Bali, Utopian island of primitive delights . . .”
There was indeed a sunset on the screen now. It bathed the receding shores as the palm trees swayed in the twilight breeze. Black Socks and the voluptuous blonde faded into memory. A flowered lei floated on the water. The ocean liner was a silhouette against the sunset. . . . And then the screen went black.
Whoever was working the lights took their time about turning them on. Wisely so, since many in the audience had a certain amount of necessary primping to perform before facing their fellow passengers. That didn’t stop people from talking though. The darkness was filled with comments:
“So that’s Bali! The natives certainly are a sensual people . . .”
“I knew the women wore sarongs, but I never knew the men wore black socks . . .”
“This is the first time I was ever truly moved by a travelogue . . .”
“Such artistry! It reminded me of Darling9 . . .”
“Such realism! It reminded me of Citizen Kane10 . . .”
“Such pacing! It reminded me of how it was before I got my vasectomy . . .”
“I don’t remember Margaret Mead mentioning anything about black socks . . .”
“Those natives certainly are uninhibited . . .”
“Damn it! I can’t get this popcorn out of my jock-strap . . .”
“Best movie I’ve seen since The Last Picture Show11 . . .”
“I hope I brought along enough black socks for our stay in Bali . . .”
When the lights were finally turned on, I spotted Captain Maldemerde, Mister Jewish, and Chief Engineer Gorilla conferring together at the back of the theater. I walked over to them. Mister Jewish was talking, but seeing me, he stopped in mid-sentence.
“Go on, Number One,” Captain Maldemerde told him.
“I would prefer not to speak in front of this man, sir.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, mister. Continue with what you were saying.” Click-click. “That’s an order!”
Openly reluctant, Mister Jewish obeyed. “I've checked with the projectionist, sir, and what happened was that someone spliced in the porno film between the beginning and end of the travelogue before it was shown. The original sound track was untouched. The projectionist says someone with technical knowledge could have done the splicing in a matter of twenty minutes or so.”
“Get to the point, mister.” Click-click.
“I am, sir. The film was stored belowdecks under lock and key until it was brought to the projection booth. About a half-hour before he ran it, the projectionist went down to the galley for some coffee. He stayed there until it was time for the screening to begin. While he was gone, the film was in the booth, and the booth was unlocked. It was during this time that the sabotage must have occurred. And that means it had to be someone in the audience who did it!”
“How do you figure that, Mister? Why couldn’t someone else have just walked in there and done it before the film started?”
“They could have, sir. And they could have left the projection booth without being seen, too. But the only exit from the booth leads into this theater. And the only exit out of here is that one.” Mister Jewish pointed. “From about fifteen minutes before the showing until right now, that sailor over there has been stationed at that exit.” He pointed again.
“What for?” Gorilla wondered.
“A very simple reason. That’s a swinging door. There’s a bright running light just outside it. The sailor was assigned to stay there through the screening to be sure the door didn’t open inadvertently and louse up the show by letting the beam from the light hit the screen. The sailor is positive that nobody left while he was at the doors. Which proves that the saboteur had to be a member of the audience.”
“Well, that only narrows it down to a hundred-fifty-odd people, mister,” the Captain said sarcastically. Click-click.
“Anyway,” Gorilla remarked, “it was one helluva movie!”
I agreed with that. Little did I know that for me it was only one half of a double feature. The other half, I’d find out, would be a killer—literally!
But 'I wouldn’t know that until much later. First, I’d be faced with the events of that fateful day exactly one week after we sailed out of Bali. That was the day the luxury liner fell victim to the one act which has always struck terror to the hearts of shipmasters on the high seas:
Mutiny!
CHAPTER TWELVE
The first incident on the day of the mutiny was a minor one. It involved Mario Brandino. I was standing on the sun-splashed foredeck with Captain Maldemerde when the Mafioso came up to us.
“Someone has broken into my stateroom,” Brandino told the Captain.
“Are you sure, Mr. Brandino?”
“Of course I’m sure. It’s my business to be sure about things like that.”
“Was anything taken?”
“No. But certain vandalism was committed.” Brandino held out his hand and opened it palm up. An unrolled contraceptive was revealed. “Pinholes poked in the tip,” he said. “I have a gross of these in my stateroom,” he added. “Every one of them has pinholes.”
“How did you discover the vandalism?” I wondered.
“I’m a cautious man. It insures longevity. Cautious in all my dealings—personal as well as business. I pre-tested this item by pouring water into it before using. When I saw what had been done, I examined the others. Not one was left unpunctured.”
“It must have put a crimp in your love-life,” I remarked.
“I don’t find this amusing, Mr. Victor. Admittedly I have enemies, but I don’t think this sort of thing is their style.” The Italian gangster turned to the Captain. “What do you propose to do about this?” he asked him directly.
Click-click. Intimidated, but unable to come up with an answer, Maldemerde lowered his eyes and scratched his groin. Mario Brandino stared hard at him and also scratched his crotch. I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I scratched, too. The three of us stood there in silence -- scratching.