The Twisted Claw
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
CHAPTER I - Shadowed!
CHAPTER II - The Black Parrot
CHAPTER III - Trapped at Sea
CHAPTER IV - Good Old Chet
CHAPTER V - Solo Assignments
CHAPTER VI - A Desperate Moment
CHAPTER VII - Mysterious Cargo
CHAPTER VIII - Fire!
CHAPTER IX - A Daring Plan
CHAPTER X - Deck Watch
CHAPTER XI - Unknown Ally
CHAPTER XII - Swim to Freedom
CHAPTER XIII - Trouble on Tambio
CHAPTER XIV - Morton’s Geyser
CHAPTER XV - Impostors
CHAPTER XVI - An Unfortunate Scoop
CHAPTER XVII - An Unexpected Visitor
CHAPTER XVIII - A Hidden Target
CHAPTER XIX - The Pirate King
CHAPTER XX - Island Rescue
THE TWISTED CLAW
A series of museum thefts launch the Hardy Boys on this baffling mystery. Rare collections of ancient pirate treasure are being stolen. Who is doing it? And how is the loot being smuggled out of the United States?
Frank and Joe’s celebrated detective father is working on the case and asks the boys to stake out the Black Parrot, a suspicious freighter docked in Bayport Harbor. Disguised as crewmen the teen-age sleuths board the ship, determined to investigate its cargo hold.
Clues that the boys unearth take them on a whirl-wind chase after a self-styled pirate king—a chase that leads to their imprisonment in the fantastic Caribbean island stronghold of the Empire of the Twisted Claw. How Frank and Joe cleverly outmaneuver the pirate king and his cohorts makes a gripping tale of suspense and high adventure.
Frank grabbed the steel girder just in time!
Copyright 0 1997, 1969, 1939 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.
All rights reserved. Published by Grosset & Dunlap, Inc., a member of The Putnam & Grosset
Group, New York. Published simultaneously in Canada. S.A.
THE HARDY BOYS® is a registered trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Grosset & Dunlap, Inc.
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 77-86667
eISBN : 978-1-101-07632-3
2008 Printing
http://us.penguingroup.com
CHAPTER I
Shadowed!
“CONGRATULATIONS!” Frank Hardy shouted to his brother Joe as the track meet ended. “You’ve won the trophy for Bayport High and set a new record for the hundred-yard dash!”
“You helped, too,” Joe called, jogging along the cinder track. “What about your gold medal in the 440?” he said as he came to a halt.
“Don’t forget me!” exclaimed Chet Morton. He was a stout, round-faced youth and a good friend of the Hardys. “I collected a few points in the shot-put.”
“You were great, Chet,” Frank said with a grin.
The trio had taken part in the annual track-and-field meet with Hopkinsville at a stadium near their home town of Bayport. The contest also marked the beginning of summer vacation.
“Well, are we going over to the soda shop to celebrate?” Chet asked.
“Sure, some of the other guys want to come, too,” Joe replied. “Let’s go and change—”
He was interrupted by an announcement over the loudspeaker. “Frank and Joe Hardy to the telephone, please.”
“Oh, oh. We’d better forget about the celebration,” Frank said. “Let’s go, Joe.”
They went to the manager’s office, who handed Frank the phone. “It’s your father,” he said.
Frank scooped it up. “Hello, Dad. We won!”
“Nice going.” There was a pause. “Frank,” Mr. Hardy went on, “I’d like you and Joe to come home soon. It’s important.”
Within minutes the boys had showered and changed and were in their convertible, driving toward Bayport.
“I hope there’s nothing wrong,” Joe remarked anxiously.
“I don’t think so,” Frank answered. “I have a hunch it has something to do with a new case.”
Their father, Fenton Hardy, had once been a member of the New York City police force. But now he was engaged in private practice as a detective and was often assisted by his. sons. Working as a team, they had solved many baffling crimes, beginning with The Tower Treasure. Their last case was The Secret Warning, which had added even more renown to the Hardy name.
“Hi, Mother,” the boys called when they arrived home.
Mrs. Hardy, an attractive, soft-spokeu woman, greeted her sons with a smile. “How did the meet go?” she inquired.
“Just great!” Joe declared. “We won the trophy!”
“We’ll tell you about it later,” Frank interrupted. “Where’s Dad?”
“Upstairs. He’s waiting for you.”
The boys rushed to the second floor and entered their father’s study. He was seated at his desk. Mr. Hardy was a distinguished-looking man who appeared much younger than his years.
“We came as fast as we could,” Frank said.
“Thanks,” Mr. Hardy replied. “I wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t important. I’m going to need your help in connection with a new case.”
“What did I tell you!” Frank exclaimed as he playfully slapped his brother on the shoulder.
“What kind of a case?” Joe asked eagerly.
“I can’t go into detail at this point. Besides, I’ll be leaving on a trip shortly,” his father said. “Here it is briefly. Right now there is a ship in Bayport Harbor called the Black Parrot. I know nothing about it other than it might have some connection with my case. I’d like you to keep an eye on the freighter while it’s in port. Record anything about the crew or cargo that looks even slightly suspicious.”
Frank, dark-haired and eighteen, a year older than his blond brother, looked at his father quizzically. “That sounds sort of tame, Dad.”
“I know. But it could turn out to be a pretty wild case, as you boys say.”
“Should we contact you if we find any information ?”
“No. I’ll get in touch with you.”
At that instant Mrs. Hardy entered the room. “Fenton,” she said nervously, “I’m worried. There’s a man across the street. I’m sure he’s watching our house. He’s hiding behind a tree, but I caught several glimpses of him.”
Joe, the more impetuous of the brothers, jumped to his feet. “Let’s go and have a talk with that guy. We’ll soon find out what he’s up to!”
“Hold it!” Mr. Hardy ordered. “It’s possible he has been assigned to shadow me. I don’t want him to know he has been spotted. It’ll put his cohorts on guard.”
Joe nodded. “This must be quite a case. Wish you could tell us more about it.”
The detective did not answer. He glanced at his watch. “I’m due at the airport soon. Somehow I’ve got to get out of the house without being seen.”
“How about the back door?” Joe suggested.
“No good,” his father said. “Chances are there’s another man posted behind the house.”
“Maybe some kind of a disguise would work,” Frank said.
“I’m afraid it would be a bit too obvious under the circumstances,” Mr. Hardy replied. “Unless someone—” His words trailed off as he reached for the telephone book, looked up a number, and dialed. “I’m going to call Mr. Callahan and ask him to come over right away.”
“Our plumber?” Joe asked.
The boys glanced at each other in bewilderment. What could their father possibly want with a plumber at this time?
“You’ll see,” Mr. Hardy said with a wink. About ten minutes later a small panel truck came to a stop in front of the Hardy
home. Mr. Callahan, a middle-aged man wearing a visor cap and overalls, climbed out. He had a rather large nose and bushy eyebrows.
He walked toward the house, carrying a tool kit in his right hand. The young detectives led him to their father’s study, where Mr. Hardy quickly told him of his predicament.
“Now this is my plan, Mr. Callahan,” Mr. Hardy continued. “You and I are about the same size and weight. If you’ll lend me your cap and overalls for a while, I can disguise myself well enough to pass as your double—at least at a distance.”
The plumber was an old acquaintance and readily agreed. They left the study and went to the master bedroom. A few minutes later they reappeared. With a putty nose and false eyebrows Mr. Hardy looked amazingly like Callahan.
“A good makeup job, Dad!” Frank exclaimed. “You and Mr. Callahan could be twin brothers.”
At that instant Gertrude Hardy entered the room. She was the tall, angular, peppery sister of Mr. Hardy. “My word! I’m seeing double!” she exclaimed. “Two Mr. Callahans in this room!”
“You’re not seeing double,” Joe assured her with a laugh. “One of them is Dad in disguise.”
“And a pretty good likeness too, don’t you think?” Frank added.
Aunt Gertrude turned to face the plumber. “Fenton, what on earth are you up to now? Something to do with a new case I take it. One day something awful is going to happen. I’m sure of it!”
Mr. Hardy stepped forward. “I’m afraid you’re scolding the wrong man.”
Aunt Gertrude shook her head and marched out of the room. The boys roared with laughter.
“Now back to the business at hand,” Mr. Hardy said. “I’ll leave here in Mr. Callahan’s truck. You boys take him to the airport in an hour to pick it up. Please bill me for the time, Mr. Callahan.”
“I won’t think of it. It’s a favor,” the plumber said.
“I insist,” said Mr. Hardy, then addressed his sons, “Any questions before I leave?”
“No, Dad,” Joe replied.
“Let’s hope,” the detective continued, “that our friend across the street falls for my trick.”
“The trick worked!” Frank exclaimed triumphantly
After saying good-by to his family, he picked up the plumber’s tool kit, took a deep breath, and left the house.
The boys cautiously peered through a window. Across the street they saw a man’s head pop out from behind a tree, then vanish again as their father drove off. Obviously the stranger was remaining at his post.
“The trick workedl” Frank exclaimed trium phantly.
“Right,” Joe agreed. “But I wonder how long that guy is going to stick around.”
Frank chuckled. “One thing is certain. He’s in for a long wait.”
While Aunt Gertrude prepared a cup of tea for Mr. Callahan, Frank and Joe discussed the case.
“The Black Parrot,” Joe mused. “Sounds eerie.”
“Let’s go down to the harbor first thing in the morning,” Frank said. “Right now we’d better keep an eye on that fellow across the street.”
The boys hurried downstairs and peered through one of the living-room windows. Minutes passed.
“No sign of him,” Joe muttered. “Maybe he’s gone.”
“Could be,” his brother replied. “But let’s wait awhile longer, just to be sure.”
While Frank kept his post at the window, Joe paced up and down impatiently. Finally he could not suppress his curiosity any longer. “I’m going to see if that spy’s still there,” he said and ran out of the house. He looked behind the tree across the street, then signaled Frank that the coast was clear.
When he came back Frank met him at the door. “You shouldn’t have run out like that, you know.”
“Sorry. I thought it was about time for a show-down.”
“You might have—”
Frank was interrupted by a terrifying scream from the kitchen.
CHAPTER II
The Black Parrot
“HOLY crow!” Joe exclaimed. “That was Aunt Gertrude!”
The boys rushed into the kitchen and almost collided with their mother who had heard the scream, too.
They found Miss Hardy shaking like a leaf. She pointed to an open window. “A-a strange man was looking in at me! Call the police! Do something!”
Frank and Joe spotted a man running down the street. They dashed out of the house and gave chase, but before they could close the gap, their quarry leaped into a car and sped off.
“There were two men in that car!” Frank declared. “One of them must have been watching the rear of the house as Dad suspected. He tried to get a look inside and frightened the wits out of Aunty.”
“I wonder what he was up to,” Joe put in.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Frank replied.
They returned to find their mother pressing a cold wet towel on Aunt Gertrude’s forehead.
“How do you feel?” Joe inquired.
“Awful! Simply awful!” exclaimed Aunt Gertrude. “Who was that cutthroat?”
“Probably just a peddler,” Frank replied, hoping not to upset her further. “Your scream frightened him more than he frightened you.”
“Some nerve!” Aunt Gertrude snapped. “Imagine! Peering into people’s houses.”
Frank looked at his watch. “I think we can leave now,” he said to Mr Callahan “Come We’ll take you to the airport to pick up your truck.”
“Okay.” As they got into the boys’ convertible, the plumber said, “Tell me, is there always that much excitement at your house?”
Frank winked at his brother. “This is a rather quiet day, wouldn’t you say, Joe?”
Mr. Callahan shook his head and asked no more questions.
The boys retired early that night and were up at six the next morning. After breakfast they drove to Bayport Harbor. They found the area bustling with activity.
“There’s the Black Parrot,” Joe said, pointing.
They watched as stevedores pushed handcarts, loaded with wooden crates, up a gangplank to the ship. A hoist was putting heavier cargo aboard.
“We won’t be able to get much information for Dad unless we can board the ship,” Joe remarked.
Frank did not speak. Instead, he signaled Joe to follow him and walked toward a crewman who was standing at the base of the gangplank checking a manifest.
“My brother and I are very much interested in ships,” Frank began nonchalantly. “Do you think your captain would let us go aboard for a few minutes?”
The man glared at them in surprise. “Get outta here!” he roared.
“Why get mad at us?” Joe queried. “We were just—”
“You heard mel Get outta here before I take a club to ya!”
Joe was about to challenge the man, but Frank grabbed his brother’s arm and led him away from the ship.
“That guy’s about as pleasant as a rattlesnake,” Joe said angrily.
“Take it easy,” Frank warned. “We can’t risk getting involved in a row. We’ve got to remain as inconspicuous as possible.”
“What’ll we do now?”
“Wait and hope for a break.”
The young detectives watched the Black Parrot from a distance. Then came a stroke of luck. A crewman placed a sign at the base of the gangplank announcing that more help was needed to load the ship. The Hardys were among the first to volunteer.
“So! It’s you two again!” growled the man they had encountered earlier. He stared at them for a moment. “Well—you kids look pretty strong.” He named a price for every crate carried aboard and told them to take it or leave it.
“We’ll take it,” Frank said quickly. “But what about union cards?”
“Forget the union and get movin’!” the crewman ordered. “We haven’t got any more handcarts, so you’ll have to bring the crates aboard one by one.”
“Thanks a lot,” Joe muttered.
The job was extremely hard. The boys stuck to it most of the day, hoping to l
earn something, but their sleuthing was hampered by the constant surveillance of the crew.
That afternoon, while carrying a crate aboard, Joe tripped and fell. The wooden box crashed to the deck. At that instant the first mate of the Black Parrot appeared and demanded to know what was going on.
“Just an accident,” Frank explained. “My brother tripped and—”
“I’m not interested in excuses!” the officer yelled. He gave Joe a shove. “Now pick that up. And be quick about it!”
“Pick it up yourself!” Joe retorted as he scrambled to his feet.
The first mate was about to lash out with his fist, but Frank stepped in and grabbed him by the arm. As he did, he noticed that the man was wearing a strange ring on his finger. It consisted of a heavy silver band with what looked like a red, twisted bird’s claw on top.
“Let go of my armi” the man demanded. Frank released him. “Now get your pay and get off the ship!”
“We haven’t finished our work,” Joe said.
Several crewmen moved toward the Hardys. “You heard him,” one of them snarled. “Get goin’.”
The boys had no choice but to comply.
Joe sighed. “I certainly messed things up.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Frank said. “Anyway, we couldn’t have done much investigating with all those guys around.”
As they walked down the gangplank to the pier, they heard a familiar voice call out, “Hi, master-minds !” It was Chet Morton. “Your mother said you were down here,” he went on. “What’re you doing?”
Frank and Joe drew the stout boy aside and told him about their assignment and their adventure onboard.
“And you fellows were ordered off the ship, eh?” Chet reflected. “Let me see.” He began walking toward the Black Parrot. “I’ll get some information for you.”
“Wait a minute!” Frank said. “Come back here!” His words went unheeded.
“Ahoy, mates! Make way for a real seaman!” Chet shouted to a group of crewmen as he hurried up the gangplank.
“Oh, oh. Now we’re really in for trouble,” Joe muttered anxiously.
Chet disappeared into the midst of the group. Shortly scuffling broke out among the men. Before Frank and Joe could aid their friend, he came rolling down the gangplank like an oversized bowling ball.