The Sweet Adeline Caper

"Wow, what a place," Peter remarked. "We're going to perform here?"

"Guess so, if this is the right place," Mike said.

"Yup, it is," Micky affirmed. "This is the ship Captain Weskott showed me."

"This thing certainly doesn't look like just a ‘mini' cruise ship," Davy commented.

"Uh, what exactly do we do?" Mike asked. "Just stand around and wait for the Captain to come out?"

"He said to just come on up when we got here," Micky replied. "There's a ramp over here." He walked over to a professional-looking ramp and rolled his drum set up. The other Monkees looked at each other, shrugged, and followed.

Up on deck, Micky led them down the corridor into the ballroom. "Hello? Captain Weskott?" he called.

Within a few minutes, a rather tall, lanky, elderly man came out from behind the curtain at the bandstand. "Oh, hello, Mr. Dolenz," he greeted Micky. "Are these the other members of your band?"

Micky nodded. "This is Mike Nesmith, Davy Jones, and Peter Tork," he said, pointing to each in turn. They all nodded a greeting. "Guys, this is Captain Weskott." They all said hello.

"Well, I'm honored to meet you boys," Captain Weskott said. He gestured toward the bandstand. "You can set up right up there. The guests should be arriving any minute now." He glanced around a little nervously.

"Uh, lookin' for someone?" Davy asked.

"No, no," Weskott said abruptly, then changed his mind. "Actually, perhaps." He paused, as if uncertain whether to go on. "To be perfectly honest, boys, I wasn't sure if I wanted to invite you here. You see, there have been some very odd things happening here lately and . . ."

"Odd things?" Davy interrupted. He, too, glanced around nervously.

"Like what?" Mike asked.

"Well, it sometimes seems like my Sweet Adeline is haunted," Weskott confessed.

Peter looked horrified. "Haunted?" he exclaimed.

Weskott looked a little embarrassed. "Well, it's probably nothin'. But sometimes I've heard creaking and moaning noises and was certain I felt eyes staring at me. And last night, a piece of lettuce I'd left out disappeared. This morning, I found some of my crates had been rummaged through. Apparently, someone is looking for something here, and who knows how badly they want it! If you boys don't want to stay, I don't blame you."

Peter and Davy looked like they wanted to run out the door. Mike laid hands on their shoulders to hold them back. "Well, Captain Weskott, we don't want to disappoint you and your guests. I'm sure we can stand a few moans and groans and vanishin' lettuce."

Micky nodded. "Yeah, sure. That wouldn't bother us."

Weskott smiled, but still looked a little nervous. "Thank you, boys," he said gratefully. "But I hope I'm not exposing you to any kind of danger." "Don't worry about it," Mike assured him. He turned to the bandstand. "Come on, guys, let's get things set up here."

Weskott started to walk out of the room, glancing back once to look at his newly-hired band, then quietly leaving.

"So, Micky," Mike said, "did Captain Weskott mention those ‘odd things' to you earlier?"

Micky nodded. Now he looked a little embarrassed. "Well, yeah," he admitted. "But I figured it was probably nothing. I mean"—he lowered his voice—"the Captain's getting kind of old. He could've imagined the sounds and eyes staring at him. And he could've forgotten where he put the lettuce."

"I guess," Davy conceded. "But still it seems a little odd about the crates, anyway."

Before Micky could reply, the guests started coming in. Magically, cooks appeared, bringing food for the tables. Weskott appeared again, too. He walked up to the Monkees, who were just finishing setting things up.

"Is everything coming along good?" he asked.

Micky nodded. "Yeah, just fine, Captain."

Before long, the room was pretty much filled up. Weskott walked up to the microphone. After making a short speech, in which he talked about this year's upcoming cruise ("the guests here must be the ones signing up for the cruise this year," Micky decided), he introduced the Monkees as "one of America's aspiring young rock groups."

"Hi, folks!" Mike called as the lights dimmed and spotlights shone on them. They opened the concert with "Pleasant Valley Sunday," then launched into Davy's solo, "I Wanna Be Free."

Towards the middle of the concert, there was a loud creak, interrupting Micky and Davy's performance of "Gonna Buy Me a Dog." Suddenly all the lights went out.

The Monkees could hear the audience talking among themselves, wondering what in the world had happened.

"What did happen?" Mike wondered.

Suddenly there was a sound like the splintering of wood and cloth, and the lights came back on. There was a machete lodged in the wall behind the bandstand, pinning the curtain!

It was an hour or so later. The machete was being investigated by the police. Captain Weskott was twisting his tie and looking very upset. The guests had been sent home by the police after they'd all been questioned.

"I shouldn't have hired you boys," Weskott said apologetically to the Monkees. "If one of you had gotten stabbed with that infernal thing, I would have never forgiven myself!"

"Hey, Captain, don't worry about it," Micky said. "Who could've known that would happen? It was probably just an accident. Probably one of the cooks tripped over something and the knife went flying."

"A machete?" Davy repeated incredulously. "Being used in the kitchen?"

Micky shrugged. "Well . . ."

"I think you boys should clear out of here immediately, before something more happens," Weskott said nervously.

Before the Monkees could reply, the police called Weskott over for questioning. The Monkees talked among themselves.

"I think we should stay and try to catch Weskott's ‘ghost,'" Mike said.

"You must be joking," Davy said.

"Actually, no," Mike replied. "That thing with the machete seemed pretty serious. I think something very weird is happening here."

"You don't actually think it's a ghost, do you?" Micky asked. "I don't believe in ghosts."

"It could be," Peter piped up. "I believe in ghosts. Maybe the ghost of a former captain came back wanting his ship again."

"Oh, Peter," the others sighed.

"I don't know what I think," Mike said, "but it probably isn't a ghost. But anyway," he said, changing the subject, "what do you guys think about staying on and helping Weskott catch whatever's haunting this ship?"

Davy and Micky shrugged. "Sure. We're game," they said.

Peter wasn't so nonchalant about it. He was nervous about staying there, but agreed that they should help Weskott.

Weskott walked back over to them. "They couldn't find any fingerprints on it," he said, indicating the police and the machete.

"I'm sure a ghost's fingerprints wouldn't show up," Peter said in a small voice.

"Uh, Captain Weskott," Mike said, "we were thinking. Instead of hightailing it away from here, we'd like to stick around and help you catch this, uh, unknown person." He was very careful not to say "ghost."

"Well, boys, that's right friendly of you," Weskott acknowledged, "but I wouldn't like to expose you to what might happen. That machete thing could've been disastrous."

"We know it's kinda risky," Mike agreed, "but we'd like to help out. Right, guys?" He looked at the other Monkees.

"Oh yeah," Micky said.

"Count us in," Davy said.

"We'll help," Peter added.

Weskott stood in thought, then finally spoke. "Well, boys, I'm touched that you'd stick around to help an old ship captain that you don't even know catch a possibly dangerous ghost, or prowler, or whatever the infernal thing is. You are welcome to stay. I'll get you some staterooms." He lowered his voice. "Frankly, I've been worrying about the cruise this year, wondering if my ghost would cause any problems. The cruise starts day after tomorrow, and if we can't catch him, I might have to cancel the cruise to protect the passengers."

The Monkees nodded. "We understand," Davy said.

"We'll do our best to catch the creep," Micky spoke up.

Weskott led our heroes throughout the ship and introduced them to the head cook, Marion Bates, and her assistants, the crewmen, and the other employees there. Everyone was very friendly except for Marianne Feldman, one of the maids, and Tomas Dobbs, the second mate.

"Something seems suspicious about those two," Mike whispered to his fellow Monkees. "Let's keep an eye on them."

Micky thought they seemed strangely familiar, but he couldn't figure out why.

Weskott eventually led them to two staterooms, side by side, and handed them the keys. "Here, boys," he said. "If you need me, I'll be up in my cabin, preparing for the cruise . . . if there'll be one this year." He sighed. "Without these yearly cruises, I wouldn't be able to afford to keep the Sweet Adeline, or my house, but I can't endanger my passengers . . ." The last sentence was said more to himself than to the Monkees. "Thanks again, boys, for what you're trying to do. I really do appreciate it." He walked off down the hall.

"Boy, the poor guy," Micky commented. "I didn't know he was so hard up."

"We don't ‘ave much time to catch the ghost, or whatever it is," Davy said, "if the cruise starts day after tomorrow."

"True," Mike said, unlocking the doors of the staterooms. "We'll have to get up very early tomorrow and start looking for clues. Now, who gets what room?"

In the end, Davy and Micky took one room and Mike and Peter took the other.

"Boris, how long can we keep this up?" The voice had a Russian accent and was decidedly feminine.

"As long as we have to," another voice replied. "We have to find that microfilm!"

"How did it wind up here anyway?" the first voice demanded.

"Who knows?" the man called Boris sighed. "Some fool placed it in one of the crates here. Since we don't know which one, we have to search them all!" There was a crashing sound.

"Quiet!" the female voice hissed. "You want everyone to come rushing down here and find us?"

"There's no one around," Boris replied. "Now, let's just take a look in this crate."

Gosharooney! Micky thought. It sounds like . . . He gasped. The spies, Boris and Madame Olinsky! he realized. The Monkees had tangled with them a while back, when some microfilm had accidentally wound up in Davy's maracas. Sounds like they've lost more microfilm. A new thought occurred to him. "Maybe they're the ones who've been haunting this place!" he said aloud.

Quietly, he got out of bed and walked over to Davy's bunk. "Davy!" he whispered. "Davy!"

Davy was sound asleep and muttering something about someone named Angela.

Micky wasn't sure what to do, so he did the first thing that came to mind: He dressed quickly and then quietly slipped out of the room and headed for the deck below, where he remembered the cargo hold was. He'd decided that's probably where the spies were. He knew it was a dangerous thing to do, to go downstairs to where they were. But Micky didn't know what else to do. Even if they weren't responsible for the "haunting" of the Sweet Adeline, they had escaped from jail apparently, and were causing trouble again.

Micky cautiously peered around the door and started. Boris was prying the crate open with a crowbar while Madame Olinsky watched. But that wasn't what had startled him. Boris was wearing the second mate's uniform and Madame Olinsky was in a maid's attire. They had apparently adopted the aliases Tomas Dobbs and Marianne Feldman to get on the ship to look for their microfilm! No wonder they had seemed strangely familiar!

"I've found it!" Boris yelled in delight, holding up a small container.

"Gosharooney," Micky said softly. "I've gotta tell the guys about all this!"

Just then something hard came crashing down on Micky's head. He saw enough stars to rival any cartoon show and yelped in surprise, then sank to the floor.

The door flew open. Mike stood there, sleepy-eyed. "What?" he asked.

"Micky's disappeared," Davy repeated.

"How did that happen?" Mike asked worriedly.

"Was he kidnapped by the ghost?" Peter exclaimed, appearing in the doorway.

"I guess ‘e could've been," Davy said. "I ‘eard ‘im scream!"

"Scream?" Mike repeated.

Davy nodded. "I think ‘e's downstairs somewhere."

Mike rushed out the door, followed quickly by Peter. "Well, come on, then! What're we waiting for?"

"There's something strange about her," Judith was saying. "She always disappears for long stretches of time, and when she's around, she's always looking around furtively, as if she's searching for something, but not wanting to be caught!"

"Marianne?" Davy mused. "‘ey, Mike, didn't you say you thought there was something strange about her?"

Mike nodded. "I'd say there's a good chance that she's involved in all this," he said.

They continued to wander about aimlessly.

"Where is that basement door?" Mike muttered. "It's gotta be around here somewhere."

"Maybe we'd better ask someone," Peter suggested. He walked a little ahead of Mike and Davy and walked right into a door as it was opening.

"Great goin', Peter," Mike muttered as Peter fell backwards into his arms.

"Oh, well, at least ‘e found the basement door," Davy pointed out.

Larry Marks, the assistant purser, who seemed to have a kind of Gomer Pyle personality, peered around the door.

"Oh my goodness!" he exclaimed. "Did I hit the young man with the door?"

"Uh, well, you did, actually," Davy said hesitantly.

"But I'm sure he'll be fine," Mike put in quickly, as Peter started to recover.

"Oh, I hope so," Marks said worriedly.

Peter shook his head to clear it. "Guys, what happened?" he asked.

"Are you alright?" Marks asked.

"Yeah, I think so," Peter replied, a little puzzled.

"Mr. Marks ‘ere accidentally hit you with the door," Davy explained.

"Where were you boys headed this early in the morning?" Marks asked.

"To the basement," Davy replied.

"Weren't there four of you?" Marks asked suddenly.

"Yes. We're looking for our friend," Mike said.

"He disappeared," Peter put in obviously.

"Oh my!" Marks looked horrified. "I hope he didn't run into any trouble with the ghosts around here! I was just down in the basement, and I didn't see him. I'll go down with you and help you look!"

"Thanks," Mike said.

So they headed down the stairs.

"Do you think we should've told Captain Weskott what's happening?" Davy asked Mike.

"Probably so," Mike agreed. He turned to Marks. "Hey, could you go alert the Captain of the occurrences here?"

Marks nodded. "Oh, certainly! I'll do it right now!" He turned and headed upstairs. The three Monkees reached the bottom of the staircase and continued their search.

"Why do I have the feeling that something terrible ‘as ‘appened to Micky?" Davy said. He went on, "And also, that something terrible is about to ‘appen to us?"

"Oh, that's foreshadowing," Peter replied. "You predict something, and it happens." He walked over to the door of the cargo hold.

At that minute, there was a click and a sinister voice said, "Turn around slowly. No sudden moves."

The Monkees slowly turned. Marks was standing in the doorway, holding a gun.

"Mr. Marks! What are you doing?" Davy exclaimed. "Did you tell the Captain yet?"

"You guys keep away from that door," Marks hissed, ignoring the question. He raised his gun. "Or else."

"Oh, so that's the way it's gonna be, huh?" Mike said. "Okay . . ."

The Monkees acted like they would comply with Marks' request, then suddenly sprang forward and pushed Marks into a closet that he'd forgotten existed and locked it before he could react.

While he banged furiously on the door and yelled, the Monkees headed over to the cargo hold.

"You know something, guys," Peter said, "I don't think Marks is as nice as he appeared to be earlier. And I don't think he told the Captain."

"I'm sure he didn't," Mike replied, rolling his eyes slightly at the obvious statements.

"‘ey, guys, look at this." Davy held up a lantern he'd found laying on the floor.

"Hmm, interesting," Mike said. "Wonder what that's doing there?"

Peter pushed the cargo hold's door open and peered in. "Hello? Anybody home?" he called. Then he gasped. "Hey, guys, I think our ghosts have been in here!"

Mike and Davy also peered in. Crates was strung everywhere, their contents spilling out over the edges. There was something else, too.

"I.D.!" Mike called, holding out a small card. "Belonging to Tomas Dobbs." He stared closely at the picture. "Hey, guys, doesn't he remind you of someone else?"

Davy and Peter both looked. "Hey, yeah," Peter said. "I'm not sure who, though. But something in his eyes looks familiar." He shuddered. "Those eyes sure look sinister!"

Davy noticed a door over towards the back of the cargo hold. Wonder what that is, he thought. Since Monkees are naturally curious, he decided to find out.

"‘ey, fellas, ‘ere's a door," he announced. It was locked, but someone had rather foolishly left the key in the lock, which Davy turned.

"What's in there?" Mike asked.

Davy gasped.

"What is it, Davy?" Mike asked again.

"It's . . . it's . . . Micky," Davy said, kneeling down on the floor.

"Micky?" Peter and Mike repeated. "Is he okay?"

"I don't know," Davy replied. "‘e's slumped against the wall and ‘is eyes are closed."

Mike and Peter hurried over. After giving Micky a quick examination, Mike said, "I think someone gave him a good bump on the head."

"Mr. Marks?" Peter ventured.

"Could be," Mike said, then suddenly glanced nervously toward the door. "Speaking of Marks, he might break out of that closet any time. He looked kinda strong. Or someone might come along and let him out, naturally not realizing how dangerous he really is."

Davy hurried over to the door, and, shutting it, filled several crates and stacked them up against it. "That should keep ‘im away for a while," he said.

When he went back over to the others, Mike was gently slapping Micky to wake him up.

"Is ‘e coming out of it?" Davy asked.

"I think so," Mike replied.

Micky reached up and caught Mike's arm before the Texan slapped him again. "Don't do that," he mumbled groggily.

Mike shook his head in faint amusement. "Mick! Hey, Micky! Wake up!" he said.

Micky's eyes fluttered open. He looked around in total confusion. "Where am I?" he asked.

"You're in some kind of storage closet in the cargo hold," Mike replied.

"Micky, are you alright?" Davy asked worriedly.

The curly-haired drummer continued to regard them with a puzzled look as he brought his hand up to rub his head. "Yeah, sure," he said. "But, man, what happened?"

"Someone hit you over the head, I think," Peter said.

Micky noticed the I.D. card Mike was still holding and grabbed it. "Boris!" he exclaimed.

The other Monkees looked at each other, then back at Micky. "Boris?" they repeated.

Micky nodded. "This guy's name isn't Tomas Dobbs. This is Boris!" He turned to Davy. "Remember? The spy we met up with that time when some microfilm got in your maracas, Davy?"

Davy thought a minute, then slowly nodded. "Yeah, I remember."

"Well, Boris and Madame Olinsky are on board this ship!" Micky insisted. "I remember now—they were here in the cargo hold, opening crate after crate, looking for some more lost microfilm."

"What were you doing down here anyway?" Mike asked.

"The cargo hold is right over the stateroom Davy and I were sharing," Micky replied. "And the heat vent is right under my bunk. I heard everything they were saying and decided to come down to see firsthand what was happening."

"Man, that was a dangerous thing to do," Mike said, shaking his head.

"I know," Micky sighed. "I tried to wake you up, Davy, but you were sound asleep . . ."

"Probably reenacting his last twelve dates," Mike muttered.

". . . so I decided to come down by myself," Micky went on. "When I saw what was happening, I was gonna come back up and tell you guys, but something hit me on the head before I could." He looked at his fellow Monkees curiously. "How long was I out?" he asked with one of his famous grins.

Mike shrugged. "I don't know. Davy woke up hearing you scream, and we started looking for you immediately afterward."

"I'd say anywhere from thirty to forty minutes," Peter put in.

"And we met up with someone else who's probably involved," Davy added, quickly relating the experience with Marks.

"Gosharooney! Marks! I never would've suspected him," Micky exclaimed.

"I'm sure no one would," Mike said.

Just then someone started banging on the door. "Open up in there!" a voice yelled.

"Uh oh," Davy said. "It's Marks!"

"Oh boy," Mike muttered.

"Fellas, I'm scared!" Peter said. "Who knows what he'll do! He has a gun!"

Micky glanced up at the rafters. Long nets hung down, obviously to catch the cargo if it fell while the Sweet Adeline was on the high seas. Hmmm, idea! he thought. A light bulb appeared over his head.

He glared at it. "Hey, I can't think with this light bulb over my head!" It popped. "Thank you!" he breathed. Cautiously he crept over to the nets and began reworking them. Davy caught on to what he was doing and came over to give him a hand.

"I'm warning you!" Marks yelled. "You open this door!"

"Yeah, right, like we're gonna do that!" Mike called back.

They heard footsteps outside the door, and two other familiar voices joined Marks.

"What is happening?" a female voice asked.

"I can't get in," Marks replied angrily. "Those long-haired weirdos locked me in a closet, and when I got out, they had made their way to the cargo hold!"

"So they made it to the cargo hold!" the third voice said nonchalantly. "So what?"

"So what?" the female voice snapped. "They will surely find their curly-haired friend and he will tell them about us!"

"So let's break the door down!" Marks yelled.

"I think Micky's right," Peter said to Mike. "I think Boris and Madame Olinsky are here! No wonder that picture of Tomas Dobbs looked so familiar, Michael!"

"It does sound like them, alright," Mike agreed. He glanced around. "Hey! There's a telephone over there. Maybe I can call the Captain!" He hurried over to the wall telephone and picked up the receiver.

"Hello?" the switchboard operator said, as Boris and Marks prepared to break the door down.

"Hey, I need to talk to Captain Weskott immediately!" Mike said. "Emergency!"

"Alright," the operator said in an easy-going manner. "Please hold."

"Hold?" Mike repeated. "Hey, Miss, this is an emergency! There's spies about ready to break down the door of the cargo hold! They're after us!"

"Uh huh," the operator replied. She'd heard plenty of stuff like this throughout her years as operator. "Please hold," she repeated. Mike rolled his eyes and tapped his fingers on the post where the telephone was hanging.

"One . . ." Boris yelled.

"Two . . ." Marks added.

"THREE!" Boris finished.

They rushed forward to break the door in, but Davy and Micky opened it for them. Mike and Peter watched, appalled.

"Davy! Micky! What are you doing?" Mike demanded.

Boris and Marks fell through . . . right into the waiting net, which then closed up around them.

"What the . . .!" Marks exclaimed.

Boris started screaming in Russian. Madame Olinsky walked in.

"What is this?" she demanded. "What are you two doing like that?"

Before she could say more, she stepped right over another net, which promptly swept her up.

"Oh!" she yelled angrily. "The idea!"

Mike grinned. "Hey, good work, you two," he congratulated Micky and Davy.

"Yeah, that was a good plan," Peter said.

The Captain finally came on the phone. "Hello, Captain Weskott here."

"Captain? It's Michael Nesmith," Mike said. "Could you send some policemen down here to the cargo hold? We just caught our ghosts." He glanced back at the spies, who were all throwing fits and yelling at the tops of their lungs.

"Boys, this is great work," Officer Jameson congratulated the Monkees as the spies were led out off the Sweet Adeline. "We've been trying to catch these notorious spies for a long time, ever since these two"—he indicated Boris and Madame Olinsky—"escaped from jail."

"Glad we could be of help, officer," Davy said.

"Hey, did you find the microfilm?" Peter asked.

Jameson nodded. "This bird, Marks, had it in his pocket."

Captain Weskott came up to them. "Boys, I want to thank you so much for catching these ruthless creatures."

"Oh, it was nothing," Micky said nonchalantly.

Weskott looked at them curiously. "I suppose all those ghostly sounds were the spies searching for the microfilm."

Mike nodded. "Yup."

"They threw that machete at us because they were sure you ‘ad hired us to track them down," Davy said.

"Well, I can't thank you enough," Captain Weskott said gratefully. "Because of you boys, the cruise can go on as scheduled, and my passengers won't be in danger!"