PART TWENTY-ONE: Mutiny!

Mumbles seemed skeptical of the Mole's story, but Stooge Viller sighed and actually pocketed his revolver. "Okay, Mole, you can lower your hands now. Put your gun away, Mumbles – I've figured out what happened. I'd heard that Sketch Paree used to be a hypnotist. Took lessons from one Yogee Yamma, if I'm not mistaken. He must have put the Mole in a trance and ordered him to murder us both."

"Sketch did that?" gulped the Mole. "...I mean, I guess he could have done such a thing, but that's pretty low, even for him. Gosh, I might've been killed!" Then, as Stooge and Mumbles both glared daggers at him, he hastily amended, "I mean, I might have killed one or both of you! I'm ... I'm sorry, fellahs, really I am. I'm still on you guys's side. Is ... isn't there anythin' I can do to help?"

Stooge shook his head. "No, there isn't. We'll let you off this time, Mole, since you did manage to get Mumbles's ticker going again yesterday." (Mumbles looked startled at this, but said nothing.) "But don't even try coming back here anymore. If Sketch hypnotized you once, he'll do it again. And I don't care if you come back carrying a platter of filet mignon – we're not letting you in, understand?"

The Mole nodded, looking relieved, though also a bit crestfallen at this pronouncement. "Um ... well ... I–I guess I'll go, now. G'bye, fellahs. Uh ... I hope everythin' turns out all right for you..."

"Fat chance of that," muttered Stooge as he once more locked the cabin door after the Mole exited. Turning towards his partner in crime, he said wearily, "Let's face it, Mumbles – we're in a real spot. We can't get off this ship. We can't even safely leave this cabin. And we can't trust anybody anymore. And I dunno 'bout you, but all this is makin' a nervous wreck outta me. This treasure hunt cruise was supposed to be a fun deal, but now..." He rubbed his bruised and aching neck. "No amount of treasure is worth this!"

"Gettah oldayersel, Stooj," Mumbles tried to reassure him. "We ainlik tyet!"

Not sharing his friend's optimism, Stooge replied, "We may not be licked yet, but unless some miracle occurs and soon, we will be. The way I see it, we got two choices: stay in this blankety-blank cabin till we waste away, or go out and have a final showdown with the Brow and the rest, and hopefully take a few of them with us before we're gunned down."

"Therzgottabeanudderway!"

"Yeah, that's easy for you to say..."

Hours passed as the night wore on. And then:

"What are they doing now, Brow?"

"Sleeping like babies. Their light's still on, but I could hear 'em both snoring through the door, sawing enough wood to build a log cabin."

"Then it's time. You've got your lock-picking tools, B-B Eyes?"

"Nyahh, I never leave home without 'em, see? Let's go..."

While Mumbles had returned to his bunk, Stooge had remained standing in one corner of the room, facing the door. He'd had an uneasy feeling that something even more terrible was going to happen before the night was over, and knew that if he lay down on his own bunk, he wouldn't be able to pull his gun very quickly. But soon he had sunk to a sitting position, and then his head drooped forward over his knees as he eventually nodded off. It had been days since he'd gotten more than a few hours of sleep. And then the dream began...

Like Mumbles, Stooge rarely had pleasant visions when he slept, and this one was no exception. He saw his wife (whom he thought was long dead) and a little girl that he guessed was his daughter, even though she had only been an infant the last time he had seen her. He started to approach, holding his arms out as though he wanted to embrace them both, but at the sight of him, mother and daughter screamed and fled.

Come back! he cried, Don't be afraid of me! But they only ran all the faster, reaching a dilapidated apartment building with a single door, which they slammed and locked behind them. Stooge pounded on the door, calling Let me in! I won't hurt you! From within he heard his wife's voice: Go away, you mobster – you MONSTER! I never want to see you again! And his daughter's: I hate you, Father! And Stooge began crying. I'll ... I'll change! I'll turn over a new leaf – I promise...!

Then he was roughly being prodded awake, and the images of the dream blew away like smoke from a cigarette, never to be remembered. For what he saw upon waking was another nightmare – less tragic, perhaps, but definitely more deadly. The Brow and B-B Eyes were standing over him, with gats in their right hands and blackjacks in their lefts. Nearby, Pruneface was holding his .45 pistol to the head of the terrified Mumbles, who was also being restrained by Sketch Paree. The Parisian had clamped one white-gloved hand over the blond hood's mouth to keep him from squawking, for he had woken up before Stooge.

"Mornin', Viller," said the Brow with a grin. "It may not be daylight yet, but we've already drawn straws to see who today's Captain is gonna be, and guess what? You're lookin' at him. Me – Captain Brow! So I'll trouble you to turn over the treasure map ... no, don't bother reaching for it, just keep those hands in the air. I'll help myself." He pulled the map out of Stooge's jacket, along with his revolver, stuffing them both into his own coat pocket. "And now, Mister Ex-Captain," he continued, "you and your little pal are about to get yours!"

Both B-B Eyes and the Brow raised their blackjacks high over their heads, and then–

"HOLD EVERYTHING!" Stooge bawled, thrusting his arms out to either side in a gesture of halting. Instinctively, all of the villains within the cabin froze in place, including Stooge, who suddenly realized that he did not know what to do next. There was a moment of stunned silence. Then the Brow, B-B Eyes, Pruneface and Sketch Paree all burst out laughing, while Mumbles rolled his eyes.

"Whatcha gonna do, Stooge?" B-B Eyes got out between chortles. "Call up Dick Tracy on your two-way wrist radio?"

"Go ahead, Viller," the Brow said mockingly, "Say the words – come on, say them. You know which ones..."

Aware that he had just made a complete fool of himself, Stooge held on to the forlorn hope that maybe if he continued with the gag, the others would literally laugh themselves to death. Bringing his left fist near to his face, he slowly spoke into his wristwatch the words that he knew the Brow wanted to hear him say: "Six-two ... and even ... over and–"

"–Out!" finished the Brow, as he and B-B Eyes simultaneously brought their blackjacks down on Stooge's skull.

"Touché!" Sketch Paree exclaimed gleefully as Stooge wilted to the floor. And then the Parisian shrieked in agony as Mumbles sank his teeth right through his white-gloved hand, hard enough to produce a satisfying crunch of bones. As Sketch let go of him to nurse his wounded fingers, Mumbles seized him by one arm and swung him around, slamming him forcefully into Pruneface, who was just about to shoot the blond hoodlum in the head. The pistol went off, but his aim had been spoiled by Paree's hurtling body, and the bullet zinged upward into the ceiling lamp, exploding the lightbulb and plunging the room into total darkness.

Get set for some real punch-'em-up action in the next chapter!