Original subtitles

SERLING: Starring tonight:

Stuart Whitman,

Harry Morgan,

Kim Hunter,

Norman Lloyd,

and Sondra Locke.

Ladies and gentlemen, good evening.

We offer a hopefully salutary, possibly educative,

but certainly a few terrifying little items in this, the mausoleum of the malignant,

and our houseful of bogies, elves, pixies, bad fairies,

and a few demoniac inhabitants,

all put together for your pleasure and titillation in what we call

the Night Gallery.

Painting number one,

having to do with fishermen and what they fish for,

or more specifically in this case,

a fisherman and what he wasn't fishing for.

What appeared in his net one afternoon defies logic, reason and belief.

But there it was. Lindemann's Catch.

Miserable floating hulk.

Looks like a lugger, doesn't it?

Too square in the stern.

And she's ketch-rigged. Trawler of some kind.

She better put some water between her and the coast,

or she won't be seeing Boston this time.

She'll not make Boston.

Who says?

The cards.

Where do they put her down, Master Suggs? The cards, I mean.

Will she hole her bottom on a reef or strip her sails in a gale?

Don't these cardboard squares offer anything but disaster?

High seas, crosswinds, man overboard, that's all you offer us.

Isn't there not one single cheerful prediction in this

net of doom you weave every night?

Come on, give us some fair winds, good fishing.

Or maybe a keg of treasure to be washed up in this benighted little place

to make our lives easier than what they were.

I only say what the cards tell.

What about your fortune, in the cards or in your palm of your hand?

The price of a small brandy, maybe I'll see a fortune coming your way.

A fortune for me?

The only fortune you'll see for me, Suggs, is a bony rider on a pale horse.

Ask your cards how I outlive my patients, huh?

This damn fog chill.

"Physician, heal thyself." That's what they say.

But not in this place. No, not here.

Filthy night.

Did you see that ship out there?

A two-master? Too shallow of draught and too big of sail.

And badly skippered.

She was too busy shifting ballast to look where she was going.

She almost ran me down.

But that's all in the night's sport.

Hopeful idiots like myself, to be killed by fearful fools.

Captain Lindemann,

maybe the cards will offer up a better fortune for you.

Here. Take one.

Maybe the palms of your hands will show a windfall on the way.

Or the tea leaves.

Let me read the tea leaves for you, Captain.

Many a pretty picture is painted in the bottom of a cup for a man.

A potion.

Would a potion of a sort interest you?

I've got ancient bottles that are the perfection of the soothsayer's art.

Mr. Suggs, I have to live with the fog

because it's hell's blanket

and it creeps up through the earth to bedevil

seamen like me.

And there's nothing I can do about that.

And I'll go out every freezing morning and come back every wind-screaming night

with just enough in my net to keep me alive.

Now all of that is my miserable lot, Mr. Suggs, and will be

until God turns my sail into a shroud and throws me back into the sea.

But what I don't have to do is to come in here night after night

and look at that wormy little face of yours and listen to all this bile

of potions and palms and tea leaves.

Now this is what your fortune is, Mr. Suggs.

Where a man spits!

You had no call to do that, Captain.

Didn't I? No call, Mr. Suggs?

I'm gonna give you your fortune.

Because you've wasted so much of my time,

I'm going to wind you up on your back with a bloody mouth.

Must you take your miseries out on harmless little men who do you no harm?

On whoever, Doctor, if he throws his lines in my waters

during my one free hour to get myself drunk and forget my miseries.

You're an evil man, Captain. You've got no heart in your body.

You can't love, you can't give, you can't share.

Share? Share, Mr. Suggs?

Now you've just had a share of it.

A spoonful of what's inside of my gut. The hate that I have for this place,

the company, the time, the weather and the catch.

And how about you half-frozen cod catchers?

Huh?

What would Mr. Suggs have you love? The sea, maybe?

Should we love the sea, even though it frightens us

and ages us and in time kills us?

And yet we still go out every morning to embrace her.

That's because we're fools.

We're damned fools and we don't deserve any better.

Captain!

Either we're out of our minds...

Likely. Or all full up on bad grog.

Maybe you can tell me why four full-grown men

kneel around a fish net and shiver, hmm?

Lookee here, Captain. If you see what we see, you'll shiver, too.

I'll get another light.

Did you see, Captain?

It's an illusion.

Then we've all seen it.

Kill it! Throw it back in the sea.

Captain, it's part human.

It's all monster.

Fifty years I've sailed, Captain, and I've never seen the likes of this.

It would be sacrilege to harm this creature.

Are you suggesting we take it home?

Fondle the face and then fry it from the waist down?

That's not from Davy Jones. That's from the devil himself.

I wouldn't believe it if I weren't seeing it with my own eyes.

Cut her loose out of there, somebody.

Your catch, is it, Doctor?

Or are you just confiscating it in the interest of public health?

She's half frozen.

She is a finned and scaled nightmare. That's what she is.

And this knife would be better be used to...

You call her a nightmare, Captain Lindemann, but the gesture...

The gesture is human.

Captain, think a bit. We could keep her alive.

We could keep her on exhibition.

I've seen men pay good money to look at unearthly objects in a jar of alcohol.

What would they pay to see a mermaid? A real mermaid?

To that end, Captain, count this an offer.

Let me take her.

I'll feed her and take care of her and put her on display.

What's more, half the take will go to you and your crew.

I've no doubt but the take won't be minnow-sized either.

Of course, Charlie's right.

Barnum himself couldn't come up with anything to equal this.

I'll think about it.

It's a gold mine we got here, Captain.

Woman or fish, she's a gold mine.

Now I'd be thinking we should keep her onboard.

You'd be thinking too much, Charlie.

You're not the master of this boat. And that catch isn't yours.

It belongs to me.

Now I said I'll be thinking about it.

And while I'm thinking, I want all of you to leave me alone.

Captain, you can't leave her in that net and...

That's enough out of you, Doctor. That's enough out of all of you.

Now go on. Go off to your houses.

Or go back to that pig trough that Mr. Bennett calls an inn.

Or lie in the gutter for all of me.

But just leave me alone. Now go on. Get off the wharf!

Oh, no.

Not yet. Not back into the sea.

The sea gave you to me.

The sea gave you to me. Now I'll ponder it a bit.

What does he want to see me for?

He said to come right aboard and go to his cabin.

Captain Lindemann?

Come in, Doc.

Sit down.

What's it all about, Captain?

Warm yourself first.

Thanks.

The men say you haven't shipped out in three days.

Little shore leave for them.

What about you? What about me?

Captain, that creature you caught in your net,

no one's seen her since you brought her in.

Now Bennett's willing to give you cash

or to work out some arrangement that might seem fair.

And put her in a tank someplace,

where the bumpkins can stand around, drooling?

Captain... Doc, she's sick.

She's not eaten anything in a day and a night.

She just lies there on the deck.

Where is she?

Down below in the hold.

Seems to be wasting away. You've got to help her, Doc.

You've got to treat her, give her some medicine.

You must keep her alive.

She's more human than anything.

We communicate together.

She speaks to you?

Not in words or language.

But she makes herself understood. As I to her.

You must see what you can do, Doc. Please, do what you can.

It... That is to say, she...

Been out of the water too long.

You know what has to be done. You've got to throw her back.

Give her medicine, something to give her her strength back.

She gets her strength from the sea, Captain.

Save her.

I wouldn't know how, I treat only humans.

She is human.

Three nights ago, you said she was a nightmare, a monster.

I'll tell you something, Captain, she's a little of both.

And I'll tell you what she isn't.

She's not a companion to man.

Any man. Help her.

Help her? You help her.

Give her back to the sea.

He's crazy I'm telling you. He's turned crazy is what he's done.

Keeping her down there in the hold.

Planning on selling her, that's what he's a mind to do.

That's the last we'll have seen of him.

Did you expect different?

It's what I've told you a hundred times about Lindemann.

He's got no heart.

He's made out of iron and wood and ship's tar.

But with sufficient heart, Suggs,

to call me out in the middle of the night to help that creature.

For what purpose?

To keep it alive so as he can torment it?

To keep it alive because he's a lonely man.

That lonely, Doctor?

As lonely as it's possible for a human being to be.

But it's a creature. It's not human.

Whatever it is, it won't survive more than a few hours.

We could all go aboard, a boarding party.

And tie her up and take her up to Boston and sell her while she's still alive.

All right. You do that.

You do that, but you better draw straws who's to be the first man down the hole.

Because whoever it is won't be alive when he gets there.

Do you understand?

Captain Lindemann, in the manner of solitary,

friendless men, has found something he can care about.

Reptile, apparition, specter from the seaweed, whatever it is,

it's given him something he can love.

That won't do it, Captain.

What will do it, Suggs? Tea leaves?

The trawler you saw out there the other night,

it went aground off Carney's Cape, just like I said it would.

That pleases you, doesn't it?

No! Not a bit, Captain.

I may cry doom, but I don't take pleasure from it.

What do you take pleasure at?

From helping.

I take pleasure from helping,

from offering up a hand when I can help.

Well, you slip that hand back in your pocket.

I'd rather take my lunch out of a bilge bucket.

You don't understand, Captain, I've come here to help, as only I can.

You help yourself by causing a distance between yourself and me.

Or have you forgotten how many times I've laid you on your back?

Or how many teeth I've loosened in your mouth?

It's all forgotten, Captain.

I told you I had potions,

powerful nostrums with miraculous properties.

Enough to burn my insides, no doubt.

To make a whole woman out of a half a woman.

You be careful what you're saying, Suggs.

I mean it.

You pour this down the mouth of that creature you have down there,

and by dawn, she'll walk on two legs.

It's two bells, now. By seven bells,

a miracle will have occurred.

I'm a desperate man, Mr. Suggs. My desperation is called insanity.

I know that.

But it's sufficient enough to break you in pieces

if this be a joke.

Captain, it's a scrawny, brandy-soaked carcass I carry around with me,

but it's all I've got and I value it.

Now do you think I'd come here in the dead

of night just so you could tear me in half?

Make her drink it. And then leave her alone.

And in five hours, give or take a few minutes,

you'll see the change.

If this be as you say... If this be as you say,

I'll bless you, Suggs, and I'll not forget it.

She means something to you.

She means life itself.

She'll have life itself, as a gift from me to you.

With my compliments.

Magic or miracle or whatever, you're a woman now!

It's worked!

Suggs! Suggs! It's worked! You made it happen!

She's a woman now.

She's no creature. She's no reptile. She's a woman.

You don't believe me, gentlemen? Well, I'll tell you what I'll do.

I'll walk her out here onto the deck. That's what I'll do.

I'll walk her out here so you can see for yourselves.

Come on up and show them! Come on!

Wait! Please, don't. Don't...

"We have fed our sea for a thousand years,

"She calls us, still unfed,

"Though there's never a wave of all her waves,

"But marks our dead."

Mr. Suggs...

Anything to add?

It doesn't have to be your lot, Doctor. What about a palm reading?

Let me look at the tea leaves for you.

Your fortune, eh?

Let me read your fortune, Doctor.

Go for it, let's read your fortune. You'll never regret it.

Or a potion perhaps? I've got a treasury of potions.

A fair trove of delights never tasted by any man, Doctor.

A dead man splattered on a concrete walk.

Not the most appetizing of scenes and not the pleasantest of stories.

But if you're interested remotely in homey homicides,

this may be your bag.

We call it The Late Mr. Peddington.

Better. Better.

You want me to get it, then?

No, no. I'm on my way.

Forgive me for just barging in like this

but, you see, I'm somewhat in a hurry.

Oh, that's quite all right. I am Thaddeus Conway, madam.

Won't you have a seat?

Thank you.

I'm Cora Peddington.

How do you do, madam?

I am looking for a good economical undertaker.

We are extremely flexible here, madam.

Let me assure you of that at the outset.

Good.

That's more than one can say for some of your competitors.

You've dealt, then, with other morticians in the past?

I've been dealing with them this entire morning.

Please forgive me, madam, but I don't seem to follow you.

Oh, it's simple enough, Mr. Conway.

I have to cut expenses to the bone.

As a result, I must shop around.

Shop around?

Well, yes, of course. Naturally.

I'm glad you understand.

None of the others did, really.

Well, some of us are more progressive than others.

Now, before we proceed with the financial aspects of the matter,

if I could get a few of the pertinent data together...

I'm training myself to economize. May I offer you one?

Huh?

Oh, no, thank you. I'm trying to quit.

Pertinent data.

I beg your pardon?

You were saying...

Oh!

Now, as to the recipient of our services.

My husband.

Oh, dear, I completely forgot to mention him, didn't I?

I'm afraid so. Has he left us?

Left us?

In a manner of speaking.

Oh, I see what you mean.

Yes.

You may say he has left us.

Permit me to convey my sincere condolences, madam.

It is at a moment...

Well, now, we may as well begin with your husband's full name.

Adam L. Peddington.

Age?

Fifty-one.

Address?

11 Briarwood Gardens.

Briarwood Gardens.

Uh... Occupation?

Adam is controller... Was controller, I should say,

of Videlectronics Corporation.

Oh.

Did he leave suddenly, or was he taken by a lingering illness?

No, it was sudden, quite sudden.

One could call it precipitate.

It can be a blessing that way.

Just how did he go?

Out the window.

Here today and gone...

Did you say Mr. Peddington went out the window?

Our living room window, yes.

Oh, my.

It opens on a balcony as a rule,

but the balcony was removed a few days ago

when it was discovered that several of the supporting lag bolts

had rusted away at the mortise.

Oh, my!

It presented a hazard as it was.

And so it was removed until a new balcony could be installed.

Unfortunately, I forgot to tell Adam.

He's home so seldom these days.

But this morning he wanted a breath of fresh air.

Oh, my!

Before I realized what he was doing, he pushed open the window and

stepped out.

You were married how long?

Twenty years.

Well, you shared two decades. That's more than many of us have.

I won't be a hypocrite.

Twenty years of living with a business machine,

that's what it amounts to.

No, no, no. You're distraught, madam.

When we were first married,

we had to save every penny for his night school.

After he became an accountant, we saved for a house,

only to sell almost immediately for profits.

The profits went into other real estate,

then into stock option plans.

The same pattern, year after year,

with the gulf between us growing wider and wider.

No, I shall not mourn him.

Worldly success, I fear, is no guarantor of happiness.

We never had a honeymoon.

Nor I.

I never even had a marriage.

If you'll forgive me, madam,

I can't help wondering about the contradictions in your situation.

What contradictions are those?

Well, obviously, Mr. Peddington was on the way up, so to speak,

before he went out and down.

That would seem to mean money, if I may say so.

Oh, it does mean money.

Then I'm at a loss to understand why you, his widow,

are so concerned about cutting his funeral expenses to the bone.

I have no choice.

I must cut expenses to the bone.

But surely, you inherit...

Not immediately.

My husband always professed a strong antipathy for rich widows.

He felt that, between the time of their husbands' deaths

and the time they gained control over the legacies,

a purgative period should ensue,

to give the widows a balanced view of past and future.

I see.

In my case,

the will stipulates that I inherit nothing

except the money from his life insurance

for a period of two years following his death.

Moreover, I must live exclusively on this sum.

I may not work, I may not borrow,

I may not pawn such personal items as furs or jewelry

to supplement the insurance benefits.

An unusual document.

What are the consequences of just ignoring it?

Clear.

In that case, I inherit only a 10th of the estate,

the remainder going to the Douglas MacArthur Memorial Fund.

How much insurance did he leave?

Two thousand dollars is the face value.

You mean you're expected to live on $2,000 for two years?

Why, my dear lady, that's only about twenty dollars a week!

Adam pointed that out to me.

When we were first married, he was earning 2,000 a year.

We lived on it and saved money besides.

But the cost of living was much lower in those days.

Also the cost of dying.

But $2,000, madam!

You can't possibly survive on that, except by charity.

Well, the insurance policy does carry a double indemnity clause.

That makes it 4,000 in case of accidental death, doesn't it?

And falling from a 10th-story window is usually construed as

an accidental death, I believe.

Yes, I would imagine so.

Shall we discuss basic costs now? I'm really pressed for time.

Mrs. Peddington, while I appreciate your desire to economize,

I feel I must point out that in most instances of violent death,

certain cosmetic services are required to restore the features of the deceased

to a semblance...

We should dispense with that.

I see. A closed-casket ceremony.

I don't plan on a casket at all. Nor any ceremony.

No casket.

I should think a basket would do it. Do they come with lids?

Yes, they do come with lids.

Fine.

Now, as to burial attire, do you wish to supply it,

or would you prefer to leave it to our discretion?

Why not let him go as he is?

Well, my good woman, it's never done.

Whatever the poor man was wearing when he fell,

it's probably all rumpled.

Probably a bloody mess. No earthly good to anyone else.

So we'll let him take it with him.

Adam would really like the economics of that.

He hated waste.

Oh, my.

Well, next we must decide on the place of interment,

unless you already subscribed to a memorial association?

We shall cremate him. Adam respected the value of real estate.

Sir?

Thanks, I needed this!

You heard?

I had the intercom turned up full.

Do you think we got the job?

No doubt about it.

She didn't say so.

She will.

There's not a mortuary in town that can underbid us.

Why didn't she just say so, then?

Why didn't she just tell us to come over and collect the remains?

John,

you're a first-rate embalmer,

but as a brain, you're a disaster area.

Sir...

She was shopping, John, shopping.

She had to make certain that under the conditions of her husband's will,

she could realistically afford the price of even a cut-rate funeral.

So?

So now she has to go home and...

In the general generic area of custom jewelry,

note girl and note expression.

Obviously a lady much disturbed

by whatever little bauble she has recently been the recipient of.

Said sentence improperly ending in a preposition.

But this story ending on a much more deadly note than that.

We call it, A Feast of Blood.

Blasted cheap glass.

7:00. Dead on time, of course.

Look, darling, look. Isn't Henry kind?

Mother, why must we carry on this charade with Henry?

You know I'm going to marry John.

Well, we know you want to and you say so,

but it isn't official yet, my dear.

Now... Oh, the crystal vase, I think.

I hate Henry Mallory.

Now, you never know, my dear.

What if something should happen to John?

Henry's insurance, is what he is.

Horrible Henry.

Small, and soft, and repulsive as a slug.

There's something not quite right about him.

My dear, there are few girls as beautiful as you,

and poor Henry can't help it

if he's not as handsome as as John Coolridge.

I say, I wonder what's in here.

Good things come in small packages, they say.

Mother, I should accept no presents from Henry except flowers.

Oh, don't be so old-fashioned, my dear.

Henry said you simply must wear this tonight.

But isn't it enchanting? What an original brooch.

Oh, let me pin it on your coat, dear.

Oh. It's realistic.

So squashy.

It's simply enchanting.

And you look sweet too.

But come along, darling, come downstairs,

or Henry will be getting impatient.

Come on.

Hello, Sheila.

Thank you for the flowers, Henry. And the clever brooch.

I'm pleased you like it.

Shall we all have a drink?

No, thank you, Mrs. Gray. We'll be late for dinner.

Of course. Dinner, where?

The Arlington.

The Arlington? How lovely. Such good food.

But naughty, naughty Henry, so expensive.

Your daughter deserves it, Mrs. Gray.

Oh, how sweet!

But you must be going.

Your taxi will be costing you a fortune.

I've hired a car.

Naughty, naughty... Still, we're only young once.

Good night, mother.

Shall we?

Good night, dears.

Remember, Henry, she's my only baby.

Take good care of her.

I will, Mrs. Gray.

Oh, please, no. My head is positively swimming.

How many times have we gone out now, Sheila?

Four, five times.

Yet you've never asked about me.

Well, I...

Well, why don't you tell me all about yourself, then?

Not much to say.

The only child of a widowed mother, like yourself.

A childhood of lonely dreams.

Not very popular at school.

Until I discovered the secret.

Secret?

I began by being the best at small things.

Once my reputation was established,

I became the best at everything.

Just like that, were you?

Well...

Were you then the best in football? At rowing?

Everything.

You see, Sheila, there are always ways of winning.

Take you and me, for instance.

You think you'll be marrying John, don't you?

You wouldn't want to change your mind, would you?

You're exactly the kind of girl for me.

Well, I am flattered,

but I'm in love with John.

Love...

That's what they all say. Never lasts.

Being a good husband is what really matters.

Besides, he hasn't even asked you.

Well, shall we say that I'll take my chances?

Since your mother is so enamored of prattling old sayings,

I'm surprised she's never told you that he who laughs last, laughs best.

You can't insult my mother like that!

I can do what I want, because as I told you,

I never lose.

You will never marry John.

Well, we shall see, shan't we?

How do you like that brooch?

Well, it is very unusual.

It's a vo-do.

Very rare kind of mouse. The true ancestor of the bat.

Bats? I hate bats.

It's a mouse, not a bat.

Besides, we have all sorts of bats, from our domestic ones

to the bats of the caves in India.

Look, I will show you something.

I'm taking the vo-do from its brooch pin.

It will stick by its feet to the coat.

It has prehensile feet. It will stick to anything,

and however much you shake the coat, it will not fall off.

You speak about it as though it were alive.

Do I?

How foolish of me.

Is this goodbye, Sheila?

I'm afraid so.

I'll give you one more chance to change your mind

because I like you so much better than the others.

What others?

The other girls.

None so pretty as you, I might add.

Let's go.

Well, yes, sir, I'll manage to get back.

Thank you for your trouble and understanding.

Well, you will make a good husband for some girl.

But not you.

Well, I can't help loving John, can I?

Ah, yes, John.

Tall, dark wavy hair, masculine jaw, fine teeth.

Really, Henry, I ought to know what he looks like.

Broad shoulders, a deep, clear voice, a strong sense of...

Must you?

Humor.

A comfortable income due to a generous father.

I am politely asking you to stop.

Mr. and Mrs. Beautiful.

Are you sure there'll be enough mirrors in the house?

You're insulting.

Accurate is more the word, peacock.

You wouldn't speak to me like that if you really loved me.

I not love you? What man wouldn't love you?

The face that launched a thousand ships.

Really, Henry, I don't know what's got into you this evening.

I thought we wouldn't go straight home.

After speaking to me like that.

You have a filthy mind.

My idea was Fox's gaming house to have ourselves a little gamble.

Well, I don't like gambling, and I don't like insults,

and I am tired and I want to go home.

John will never marry you, I tell you.

Not if I live to be 100.

Don't you dare do that again or I'll slap your face.

I'll do as I please.

Let me out of this car.

You can't go out, silly girl. It's three miles.

I don't care.

All that way in that terrible darkness?

I'd sooner die than stay with you!

Wait.

You've made the choice.

You're disgusting.

You're a slime, that's what you are. Well, you think of me...

Think of me in John's arms, making love to me.

The ugliest woman in the world wouldn't have a toad like you.

I shall remember you as you were, Sheila. Beautiful.

And deserving.

I took it off its pin.

No!

You in your cups again, Frankie?

God love us!

I know he does.

You didn't see it?

Have you seen that pink elephant again?

Almost as big as one.

It crossed the road up there and went into the woods.

How many times do I have to warn you about that gin,

that Jubilee Juice?

Like a big hedgehog it was.

Its whole head was black and shiny like it was covered with blood.

Come on, Frankie.

I'll take you to your door

and I'll explain everything to your old lady.

Oh... Come on.

All right, mate.

Let me guess...

The telly.

You were in a beauty contest.

I thought you should have won.

I'm supposed be flattered?

You're very beautiful.

I know.

And I am something less than a film star.

We can't help how we're born.

What is it?

It was a woman, it was.

Allow me. A token of my appreciation.

What is it?

I want you to have it.

Accept a gift from a total stranger?

My name is Henry.

Now we're not strangers.

You have to understand, this doesn't mean anything.

Of course.

It's just that I am compelled to honor beauty.