The Phantom Freighter Read online

  “Wow! Maybe we’ve really hit on something this time,” he said. “Dad’ll want to see this!”

  Fenton Hardy was indeed interested when his sons brought the motor home. He took the number and said he would check with his client. The detective was convinced that the boys had located one of the hiding places for the stolen goods.

  “Wool, hides, motors, and documents,” Mr. Hardy mused as the three discussed the various elements of the mystery. “I believe we’re on the track of a big gang who are handling all these things.”

  “Do you think Crowfeet is the ringleader?” asked Joe.

  “Possibly. There certainly seems to be a direct link between him and the abandoned Piper farm. In all likelihood he’s a smuggler. He may have lain offshore to send in hides in small boats like the Wasp, and received stolen motor parts and who knows what else in return.”

  “On the Falcon?”

  “Yes, and I have an idea that Crowfeet was warned and has changed the color and name of his freighter.”

  “With some of that paint Captain Sharp had on the Hawk!” Frank exclaimed excitedly.

  “Then that’s why Captain Sharp didn’t want us on board and hired a man to watch our house?” asked Joe.

  Mr. Hardy shrugged. “It certainly all seems to fit together,” he said. “But there are still many questions to be answered. One is, why is a smuggler mixed up with the faking of documents found in various states of our country? Well, your good work has made more work for me.” The detective smiled. “I must be going!”

  After he left the house, Frank and Joe continued to talk over the aspects of the case, which still puzzled them. What was the strange abandoned ship they had seen? Where had it gone? What of Captain Harkness’s story about the phantom freighter named the Falcon?

  The conference was interrupted by the arrival of Biff Hooper. The tall, pleasant boy brought good news. Beaming, he held up four tickets.

  “Reservations!” He grinned. “You sail from Southport day after tomorrow.” .

  The Hardys could hardly believe their ears. After all the difficulties they had experienced it seemed impossible that Biff had succeeded in securing accommodations so quickly.

  “You didn’t go to that Southport agency again, did you?” asked Frank.

  “No. Of course not. After somebody filched your tickets there before, I didn’t think they’d trust me. I went to one in Eastport. It so happened that they had some cancellations.”

  Eagerly Frank and Joe examined the precious tickets which were for one of the freighters of the Neptune Line—the Father Neptune.

  “The ship docks at Southport tomorrow and it’s sailing for the Caribbean Islands and South America,” Biff explained.

  “Boy, it sounds great!” Joe said. “Mr. McClintock sure will be glad to hear this. I’ll give him a ring.” He went to the telephone, but Frank stopped him.

  “Let’s go tell him personally,” he suggested. “Then Biff can collect the money his father laid out for the tickets.”

  The three hurried out of the house, piled into the convertible, and drove to the Bayport Hotel.

  “I knew it! I knew it was possible,” said Mr. McClintock, rubbing his hands in glee when he heard the news. “Thank you, Biff. Thank you.”

  Mr. McClintock kept cash in the hotel safe. He paid Biff, then began talking about all he would have to do to get ready for the trip. The boys left him, broad smiles on their faces. They recalled the time he had suddenly decided to go on the Hawk and had given them ten minutes in which to get prepared.

  The Hardys’ next stop was at the Morton farm. They expected Chet to whoop with joy at hearing the news about the voyage on the Father Neptune. But he did nothing of the sort.

  “Say, what’s the matter with you?” Joe exploded. “Don’t you understand? Here’s your ticket for South America, all expenses paid!”

  “Sorry, fellows,” Chet groaned. “I can’t go with you. I’ll be here in Bayport, working my head off, tying flies and trying to sell them, while you’re out on the ocean having a wonderful time.”

  “What happened?” Frank asked.

  Chet explained that he was not allowed to go on the trip unless he first paid back every cent of the money he had borrowed to buy the forty-five-dollar rod.

  “I thought you were going to try to sell it,” said Joe.

  Chet hung his head. “Before I had a chance, I ran over the rod with the car in the garage and ruined it.”

  Frank and Joe looked at each other. “I don’t believe it!” Frank said.

  “It’s true,” Chet concluded drearily. “You’ll have to go without me. Take Biff in my place.”

  Biff, however, showed no enthusiasm. Neither did the Hardys. The zest had gone out of the trip. It would not be the same without Chet.

  Suddenly Frank brightened. “I’ve got it!” he declared. “I know what we’ll do!”

  CHAPTER XVII

  Danger at the Carnival

  “STEP up—step up, ladies and gentlemen! The greatest bargain at the carnival! For a few cents, ninety-nine to be exact, less than a dollar, you can buy the lures that catch the biggest fish! Step up —step up! Fine handmade flies!”

  Chet Morton, red-faced and beaming, paused for breath. Then he blew a loud blast on a bugle. When the startled people attending the Southport carnival jumped and looked his way, he held aloft a handful of bright-colored flies and went into his speech again.

  “You risk no money. You merely make an investment in a fish dinner. Every fly guaranteed to pay for itself in fresh trout!”

  Few of those who stopped to look had any intention of buying flies. But they drifted closer, attracted by the boy’s sales talk. Many of them laughingly parted with a dollar bill. Several men said, “Keep the change, son!”

  Chet was having the time of his life! He had started his venture with the help of the Hardys, his sister Iola, and Callie Shaw. They had stayed up most of the night tying flies, and in the morning had obtained permission for Chet to sell them. By noontime the girls had decorated a handsome stand at the carnival.

  After Chet was well launched, they left him and went to see the Father Neptune. Her skipper, Captain Gramwell, was a slender, white-haired man who welcomed the boys and girls courteously when they came on board the freighter.

  It was a big, modern vessel with passenger cabins that were large and airy. The ship itself was spotlessly clean and the crew moved about briskly and efficiently.

  “I’m a little upset,” Captain Gramwell confided to the Hardys. “Not more than an hour after we reached port I lost one of my best men. He took sick while he was in town and had to be taken to the hospital. Fortunately the man who brought the message had good references and experience, so I hired him to replace Sanderson.”

  When the Hardys and their friends had left the ship, Frank said, “Something doesn’t ring true about that story.”

  “But Captain Gramwell appears perfectly honest,” Callie remarked.

  “Of course. But doesn’t it seem strange that some sort of misfortune struck his ship the moment we got passage? Captain Gramwell’s men have been with him a long time. Now a stranger suddenly joins the crew. Couldn’t he be one of the gang working against us?”

  “You mean he put the seaman in the hospital on purpose?” Joe gasped.

  “There’s one way of checking up,” Frank decided. “We can go to the hospital and inquire about Sanderson.”

  They left the girls at the carnival and went to Southport’s only hospital. The receptionist shook her head. “There’s no one here by that name,” she said. “There must be a mistake.”

  The boys were now convinced that their suspicions were well founded. They decided to go back to the ship and meet the new seaman. On the way out, Frank saw a figure dash from the shrubbery on the hospital grounds and run across the lawn. Frank gave no indication that he had seen anything suspicious. When they reached the gates at the entrance to the driveway, he grabbed Joe by the arm.

  “Quick! In
here!”

  Swiftly they darted into the shelter of the big stone pillars.

  “What’s up?” asked Joe.

  “I saw someone run across the lawn after we came down the steps. We’re being shadowed.”

  A moment later they heard rapid footsteps on the concrete walk. Frank and Joe edged farther out of sight behind the pillar. A man walked past. He looked puzzled, glanced from left to right, up the street, back over his shoulder. Then he quickened his pace, hurried on, and disappeared around the next corner.

  “Looks familiar,” Joe commented. “Where have we seen him before?”

  “He’s the first spy who was watching our house.”

  “That settles it. Let’s go back and warn Captain Gramwell.”

  They wondered how the skipper would receive the news. Possibly he might even ask them to cancel their passage! The captain’s attitude, however, was just what the boys had hoped it would be.

  “I’ll have no monkey business on my ship!” he declared angrily. “I’d like nothing better than to get my hands on those crooks. As soon as that new man shows up, I’ll find out what’s what!”

  They did not have long to wait. Within a quarter of an hour a tall, lean sailor came up the gangplank with a duffel bag over his shoulder.

  “There he is!” snapped the captain. He turned to the mate. “Go ashore and get me a policeman. If Sanderson has met with foul play, it will be very bad for this character.”

  “We’re being shadowed!” Frank said

  When the new hand climbed over the side, the Hardys blinked in amazement.

  “Why, he’s the second spy!” Joe exclaimed.

  Seeing the boys he wheeled around quickly and would have taken to his heels, but Captain Gramwell leaped forward and blocked his escape.

  “Now then!” snapped Gramwell. “What happened to Sanderson? Where is he, and what did you do to him?”

  “I told you, Captain. He’s in the hospital.”

  “That’s a lie. Now speak up, and fast!”

  The man turned sullen. “You’ve got nothing on me. I’m not talking.”

  The suspect would not admit anything and was taken to headquarters. There he was searched, but only a wad of compressed wool was found in his pockets.

  The Hardys persuaded the sergeant to keep questioning the man, who had arrogantly refused the assistance of a lawyer. Finally he shrugged and said:

  “Sanderson isn’t sick. You’ll find him in an old house outside of town. Tied up. I took him there because I wanted to ship on board the Father Neptune. He’s not hurt.”

  The sailor, who gave his name as Joe Flint, could not post bail, so he was jailed. Captain Gramwell and the Hardys went with the police in a squad car to the house Flint had indicated. There, in a tumble-down, empty dwelling, they found Sanderson. He was tied hand and foot, exhausted by his hopeless struggle, but otherwise unharmed.

  Captain Gramwell had him taken back to the ship and ordered that he be given the best of care. Sanderson tried to express his gratitude to the Hardys for the part they had played in his rescue.

  “You’ll have plenty of chances to thank them in the next few weeks,” the captain told him. “They’re sailing with us.”

  “And that reminds me.” Frank laughed. “We left a friend at the carnival, trying to raise money so he can go along. We’d better drive back there and see how he made out, Joe.”

  The carnival was in full swing when they returned to the grounds. They found Chet in front of his stand, brandishing a fistful of flies.

  “How’s business?” Frank asked.

  “Sold nearly everything. Another five dollars and I’m in. Take over for me, will you? I want to get something to eat!”

  As Chet headed for a lunch stand, Frank took his place at the booth and Joe cut loose with a lusty bellow of “Step up—step up, ladies and gentlemen.” In another half hour Frank handed out the last Grizzly King. Chet’s goal had been reached!

  They hurried to tell him the good news and arrived at the lunch stand, to find that Chet had eaten only two hamburgers. He had just given another order for two more. Frank and Joe, who were very hungry themselves, joined him.

  As Joe chomped on his burger, he swiveled his stool and watched the archery range across the way. People were shooting arrows at a large target which rotated slowly.

  A man in dungarees and a seaman’s sweater bought a quiver of arrows. He fitted one and pulled the bowstring. Suddenly he whirled around and let it fly.

  Joe froze when he saw the whizzing arrow. The man had aimed straight at Frank!

  CHAPTER XVIII

  “You’ll Never Come Back!”

  THERE was no time for Joe to push his brother out of the way.

  “Down, Frank!” he yelled.

  Frank ducked. The arrow zipped over him, embedding itself in the wall behind the lunch stand.

  Joe jumped up, dashed toward the assailant, and grabbed him by the shoulder. “What do you mean shooting at my brother?” he demanded.

  The man looked embarrassed. “I—I couldn’t help it. Someone jostled me and I lost my balance. Sorry about that!” With that he escaped Joe’s grip and quickly disappeared in the crowd.

  Frank and Joe followed the suspect as he hurried through the busy carnival grounds. They had to do some fancy footwork to catch up with him. Near the entrance they saw him arguing with another man. As the Hardys moved closer, keeping well out of sight, they heard him say angrily:

  “A bargain’s a bargain. I want my moneyl”

  “You didn’t do the job!”

  “Even if I didn’t get that kid for you, I tried. Now pay me or I’ll shoot something at you!”

  As the young detectives reached the pair they recognized the other man instantly. He was the spy who had trailed them at the hospital.

  “Get the police!” Frank whispered to Joe.

  Joe nodded and left. Meanwhile, Frank listened to the men, who continued their argument and nearly got into a fight. The wrangle ended with the quick arrival of two policemen, who collared the suspects and put them under arrest on charges of attempted assault preferred by the Hardys.

  “Looks as if we’re rounding up the gang one by one,” said the Southport chief of police to the boys at headquarters. “You’ve done a fine piece of work.”

  Just then a sergeant walked into the chief’s office with a message that the Bridgewater police had been trying to locate the Hardys.

  “What’s up?” Frank asked.

  “They merely said a prisoner had decided to talk if you would come.”

  “It must be that woman who blackmailed Aunt Gertrude,” said Frank. “Let’s go.”

  The boys got into their car and stopped at the carnival to pick up Chet, who had just closed his stand.

  “We’re driving to Bridgewater,” Frank announced. “Want to come?”

  “Maybe I’d better,” Chet said. “That way I won’t spend my money!”

  When the Hardys arrived at headquarters in Bridgewater, the chief told them that it was indeed the prisoner “Mrs. Harrison” who had asked for them. She was brought out in charge of a policewoman. To the disappointment of everyone, however, she did not speak about the case.

  “The reason I wanted to talk to these boys is just to ask them a question,” she said. Then she turned to the Hardys. “Are you going on a freighter trip?”

  “Why?” asked Joe. “And how did you know about it?”

  “Never mind how I know,” she replied. “Are you going?”

  “Maybe.” “Don‘t!” the woman said earnestly. “I mean it. I’m warning you. Don’t go!”

  “Why not?” asked Chet, looking uneasy.

  “Because you’ll never come back alive!” said the woman.

  She got up and nodded curtly to her guard, indicating that the interview was at an end.

  All the way home the boys pondered the reason for her warning. Chet was visibly nervous.

  “I wonder if I should take time off from my work,” he said, “a
nd go on that trip. Now that the fly-tying business is on its feet, maybe I’d be foolish to quit.”

  “Your license was only good for one day,” Frank teased. “Admit it, you’re plain scared!”

  “Me scared? Of course not. You don’t think I took that woman seriously! But say, maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have Biff go along, too, if we could get an extra ticket.”

  “You’ll have to ask Mr. McClintock.”

  The Hardys, though they did not show it, were deeply concerned about the woman’s warning.

  “Let’s phone the jail and find out if she’s had any visitors, mail, or other messages,” Frank suggested.

  Their inquiry brought no results. The woman had seen no one and received no mail.

  “I suppose her warning was given for spite,” Frank concluded.

  The young detectives continued their preparation for the trip and were ready to sail the next day. In the meantime Mr. Hardy had gone over a code with the boys until they had memorized it.

  “If you come across any information about the smugglers, send your messages in this code to Sam Radley at this address in Boston. I’ll be in and out, so you might not always get me,” he told them.

  At the Southport pier there was laughter and excitement mixed with a certain amount of tenseness. Mr. and Mrs. Hardy, Aunt Gertrude, the Mortons, and the Hoopers had gathered to watch the departure of the Father Neptune.

  Mr. McClintock, who had invited Biff, was already aboard and kept running around, getting in the crew’s way until finally the first mate suggested firmly that he go to his stateroom.

  Presently a whistle blew. The boys hurried up the gangplank. Minutes later tugs pushed the freighter away from the dock. Out in the deep water the tugs cast off, and the ship’s engines began to throb steadily. Soon she swung off through the gap at the mouth of Southport Bay and headed out to sea.

  After unpacking some of their luggage the Hardys went on deck and found Chet and Biff already there. Chet was wondering when and where dinner would be served.

  “This sea air gives me an appetite,” he remarked.

  Just then they saw Mr. McClintock hurrying down the deck. He had a slip of paper in his hand and looked intensely worried.