“Blonde-bearded” Don Jaime is hanging out with “bright-bandanna-ed Caribs, huge ring-nosed West Indian blacks, and hawk-nosed Spanish soldiery” in a Panama bar where everybody knows your hyphenated name.
He is feeling pretty good that everyone thinks Admiral De Vaca has taken his fleet to Cartagena. He expects Captain Morgan to attack the town, falling for De Vaca’s ruse. His scantily-clad serving wench cares only for the jewel Morgan wears in his neckerchief. Note that the man at the bar, and two men not even on the mainland had names on the first half-page while the wench still does not.
As she wends her way through the crowd, a strap on her blouse is unraveled, so “a firm white curved breast escaped from its flimsy moorings to gleam naked and inviting.” The wench sneaks out the back door to make a name for herself — Rosa; also traitor. She spills the beans to Roger Blake that De Vaca is just setting a trap for Morgan. Blake sends a warning to Morgan then bangs Rosa behind the tavern. Remember boys, Loose tits sink ships.[1]
The fiesta is interrupted by men who bust in and capture Blake as Rosa attempts “to cover her ivory nakedness with two small hands.” So she is a triple-agent who has ratted out Blake for an unspecified number of pieces of silver.
Blake is hauled back to San Cristobal and chained in the dungeon. Also in the dungeon is Black Richard — let’s just call him Richard — the man Blake sent to warn Morgan. He got the message through, but returned to town to look for Blake. Now Rosa and Don Diego are laughing at his predicament. As they are leaving, Rosa manages to leave behind a knife for Blake — aha, she is a quadruple-agent!
Blake orders Bl . . . er, Richard to try the ol’ sick prisoner routine. Sure, it’s an oldie now, but maybe this was the first time it was ever used. However, the sentry comes in and kicks Richard in the ribs. This gets guard close enough for Blake to over-power him. He and Richard go up the staircase.
As escapes go, this ain’t the great one. Richard and Blake are recaptured almost immediately. Realizing that Rosa gave Blake the knife, Don Diego orders her put into the Iron Maiden. After being stripped, of course. Richard explodes in a rage and breaks free of his chains to save the day and free Rosa before the Iron Maiden’s spikes can do much damage.
They head for the wharf so they can swim out to Morgan’s ship to warn him of the true plot. Rosa is only wearing a cloak which she can’t swim in. She nudes-up again and swims to the ship of pirates. The spikes in that Iron Maiden might not seem so bad compared to the penetrations she is about to suffer.
Another story I just could not care less about.
Post-Post:
- [1] Remembered from National Lampoon circa 1915.
- First published in March 1937.
- Admiral De Vaca in the same issue was a story by Jose Vaca? Coincidence? Vaca is Spanish for cow — who would use that was a nom de plume?
Also seen today: The Break-In (Amazon Prime). Just awful. Only 110 minutes and not one goddamn thing interesting happens for the first 105 minutes; or in the last five. Actually, I did like the “twist” but it was not worth the wait; it might been tolerable as a short in a VHS anthology. Or better yet, ABCs of Death.
We join Colonel Ward as he is taking a swig of booze at his desk. He is so drunk he only sees 48 stars on his flag. He is agonizing over men killed and equipment destroyed. They happened under his watch, so he expects to be relieved of his command when the General arrives.
The Martian is taken away to be examined. Ward receives word that the doctors examining him all dropped to the floor in convulsions. Some of the men from the hangar have been affected as have men all over the base. The doctors did determine that the Martian is just an silver ape, with no higher brain functions. Ward makes some pretty good deductions that the Martian was sent here as a living host for viruses that would decimate Earth — germ warfare.
His men continue dying until there are only 13 survivors out of 2,000. When one tries to flee the quarantined base like 
An Edsel cruises by a sporty little number by the side of the road. Her stalled car is also pretty sporty [1]. John Prescott takes a look under the hood. Not seeing a big on/off switch, he is as baffled as I would be. Unlike my typical situation, however, the first words out of Lila’s mouth are not “I have a boyfriend.” Thinking maybe she is just out of gas, he dips a stick in her gas hole. He finds it bone-dry so pushes her car literally an additional 2 inches off of the road, crumpling her license plate.[2]
he still rolls up; just not in the wheelchair.
Debs produces some old newspaper clippings that describe Lila’s death. Judging by the 5,000 point font, she is apparently the only person ever to die in this town.