Blackbeard's Ghost Page #2

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Lot number one.

A fine antique pistol...

which has been in the immediate

family of Miss Emily Jeffrey...

past president

of the Daughters of the Buccaneers...

for many, many years.

- Now...

- Uh, one dollar.

Oh, can't we do better than that?

Who'll give me $20?

Do I hear $20?

Oh, the gentleman in the back

just waved.

The gentleman in the back says, "$20."

Who'll give me $30?

- Thirty dollars.

- Thirty-five dollars.

- Forty.

- Fifty dollars.

- Sixty dollars.

- Seventy.

Do I hear $80?

- Eighty dollars!

- One hundred dollars!

One hundred dollars bid!

Do I hear 110?

Professor Baker, how about

your nice young man in the back?

Oh, I don't think so.

He just backed into his shell.

Very well.

One hundred dollars once.

One hundred dollars twice.

Sold!

All right, move in.

- One hundred dollars.

- Thank you.

- Lot number two. A genuine antique...

- You got taken, buddy. This is a fake.

- Copper-bottomed bed warmer.

- Take my advice.

Don't bid on anything else.

- I think well over 250 years old.

- You mean the warming pan is fake too?

That's tourist junk.

- And Mr Seymour don't like

to see you throw your money away.

- Ladies and gentlemen...

this bed warmer is believed to have been

the property of Aldetha Teach...

tenth wife of our dear

Captain Blackbeard.

- And now, what am I bid?

- If you want to bid, go ahead, but, uh,

I don't think Mr Seymour would like it.

Mrs Starkey, how about

starting the bidding for us?

N- No, thanks.

I, I don't think so.

- How about you, Mr Finch?

- Oh, uh, no, no, thank you.

Uh, Mr Harrison, you'll open

the bidding for us, I know.

This pistol's enough for me.

Oh. Will no one open the bidding...

on this magnificent item?

- Five dollars!

- Well, thank you.

- Ten dollars.

- Mr Virgil Purvis...

our football coach, bids $ 10.

- Fifteen.

- Twenty dollars.

- Twenty-five.

- Thirty dollars.

- Thirty-five.

- Fifty dollars.

- Fifty-five.

- Sixty.

- Sixty-five.

- Seventy!

- Five!

- One hundred dollars!

- As we all know...

Mr Virgil Purvis, our football coach,

doesn't like to lose.

He very generously bids $ 100.

Just an opinion, but I wouldn't

bid any more if I were you.

- Are there any other bids?

- Well, now, why is that?

- No reason. I just don't want you to.

- One hundred dollars going once.

- Oh.

- One hundred dollars twice.

- Two hundred dollars.

- Two hundred dollars once.

Two hundred dollars twice. Sold

to the nice young gentleman in back.

Now we're really rolling!

- Excuse me.

- Lot number three.

Here we have a fascinating piece

from colonial times.

The clock in the gentleman's stomach

keeps perfect time.

- Now, what am I bid?

- New around here, aren't you?

- Yeah.

- Do I hear $20?

- Just passing through?

- Nope.

- Thirty dollars.

- Might stick around a while, huh?

- Thirty-five dollars.

- Might.

- Thank you.

- We'll see each other again.

- Fifty dollars.

- Good night.

- Eighty dollars.

- Hi.

- Hi.

- How'd you make out?

- Fine. Much better than we expected.

- Thank you.

- That's good. No problem, then?

Oh, I wish that were true.

We still have another $38,000...

to give Mr Seymour

before the first of the month.

Say, why is Mr Seymour so anxious to get

his hands on this property anyway?

Here, I'll show you on the map.

You see, this is...

this is the island we're on.

Well, in Blackbeard's time,

the river flowed this way.

And the inn wasn't on an island at all.

It was part of the mainland.

Then about, oh, 80 years ago, we had

this terrible flood and a storm...

and the, uh, the river

changed its course...

isolating the inn

from the mainland.

As a result, nobody's ever

been able to clarify...

what the legal jurisdiction

of the island really is.

- Th-That's where Mr Seymour comes in?

- Sure.

He can tear down the inn,

put up a big, modern casino...

- and the law can't bother him.

- Mm-hmm.

Oh, uh, well, I'd like to thank you

for what you did tonight.

You know, without you, we wouldn't

have had much of an auction.

Well, I just kept bidding

because it made you smile.

I like that smile.

Jo Anne, aren't you re...

I've been waiting to drive you home.

Excuse me. Good night.

Good night.

I'm going to put you in his room.

I'm sure he won't mind.

- He?

- Captain Blackbeard.

- Oh.

This looks out to the river

and to the upper bay.

Oh, the captain used to stand here

for hours with his spyglass...

studying the ships

moving in and out.

He'd pick out the one he liked...

then he'd come here

to this very table...

and with his men,

he'd plan how to seize it.

Well, thank you, Miss Stowecroft.

I know how anxious you must be

to get to bed, so...

Sometimes when he's in a bad mood

or feeling lonely...

we hear him thumping around,

breaking glasses and bottles...

trying so hard

to communicate with us.

I suppose we should all be very angry

with him for all that noise.

But, you know,

it isn't his fault, poor man.

Then, whose fault is it?

- Aldetha's, of course.

- Who?

Number ten.

The captain's last wife, but one.

Oh, the one your warming pan

belonged to.

- Oh. Well, good...

- Aldetha was a witch, you know.

She never forgave the captain

for denouncing her to the authorities.

When they were burning

Aldetha at the stake...

she put a terrible curse on him.

As the flames

crept higher and higher...

she screeched her dying words:

"Edward Teach, sometimes known

as Captain Blackbeard...

"when you come to die,

may your body and soul...

"be racked between this world

and the next...

"always to be alone.

"May this curse hold fast and true.

"May you dwell

forevermore in limbo...

"or until such time

as there be found in you...

"most wicked of all villains...

some spark of human goodness".

Well, good night, Mr Walker.

Sleep well.

The dining room will be open

for breakfast at 7:30 am.

Oh, please be prompt.

Oh, no.

Two hundred bucks.

"Aldetha Teach".

Well, so the thing

did belong to her.

"Her book of spells

and conjurations".

Well, now.

"A spell to turn your enemy

into a spotted toad".

"A spell to turn mercury

into gold".

I wonder if there's a spell to make

a track team out of a pig's ear.

"A spell to bring

to your eyes and ears...

one who is bound in limbo".

Well, how about that? Limbo.

Curses. Pirates. Malarky.

Blackbeard himself was a phony.

He was probably some chicken-livered

little pipsqueak...

that built up a reputation

scaring old women and children.

Chicken-livered pipsqueak, is it?

A remark spoke slighted like that...

could raise a man's blood now,

could it not?

I've been on the road since 5:00

this morning. I'm just tired.

Nothing to eat. Miss Stowecroft

gassed me up with pirate stories.

I'm all right. I'm just tired.

Boy, am I tired!

I don't think you're real.

I don't think that sword is real!

And I'm gonna walk right through it

and go to bed!

Try it, mate.

- It's real.

- Who called me out?

- What?

- Who invoked me?

Aldetha's writing. No!

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