The Hidden Harbor Mystery Page 12

  “So Stewart’s the one who did the other phony notes,” Joe broke in.

  Cutter nodded. “Too bad they didn’t work, and that you escaped when we ‘fixed’ the plane, and lit the dynamite fuse in your car; also at the lighthouse—that was Jed and Stewart’s job. You were lucky getting out of Rand’s house before Jed and I returned. But this time we’ll be very thorough!”

  For the remainder of the night and into the following day, Frank, Joe, and Professor Rand sat on the cabin floor. They were given only a little water and stale bread. Desperately the boys waited for a break. But their guards were vigilant. At noon, and again as the light faded outside, the captors spelled one another for meals.

  “Okay, Jed,” Cutter signaled later that evening. “Get busy!”

  The powerful man left the cabin. Soon the boys heard several sharp, splintering blows. “All set!” called the hoarse voice.

  “Good-by. Enjoy yourselves!” said Cutter pleasantly, as he stepped out and locked the cabin door.

  In a few minutes the three captives heard the put-put of a motorboat.

  “The gang’s pulled out and we’re not even tied up!” Joe exclaimed.

  Simultaneously the cabin tilted over to one side. “The boat’s sinking!” Frank cried out. “That’s why! They mean to drown us and destroy the evidence!”

  The Hardys’ minds raced for a way out of their predicament. One chance occurred to Frank. “Help me with this foot locker, Joe!” he cried.

  The brothers swung the heavy chest with all their strength at the door, so that its sharp corner smashed through the wood. Joe reached through the jagged hole and turned the lock.

  The Hardys, followed by Professor Rand, rushed up on deck. Here they found sea water filling the afterpart of the vessel.

  “I can’t swim!” cried Professor Rand.

  “I have a plan,” Frank assured him. “Joe, take the fire axe and knock loose whatever pieces of wood you can.”

  Frank, meanwhile, ran to the cabin, now ankle-deep in water, and returned with a bottle of rub bing alcohol. On deck, where the gang had apparently eaten, was an opened five-pound box of sugar.

  Soon the ocean was pouring over the gunwales of the sinking boat

  As Joe whacked off the big chunks of wood, Frank sprinkled them with sugar and saturated them with alcohol. As he worked, the boy asked the professor to ignite the pieces.

  Feverishly Rand struck one match after another. As the wood flared up, Joe slid the eerie, green-burning floats onto the dark surface of the sea.

  “Hope somebody spots them,” Joe said tensely. “It’s our only chance, and maybe Chet‘s!”

  Soon the ocean was pouring over the gunwales of the sinking boat. Joe launched his last green flare. The boys heaved the cabin door overboard, and plunged after it with Professor Rand. Behind them, the fishing smack settled quickly below the sea.

  “Hold on to the door, Professor,” Frank directed. “Joe and I will stay on either side of you. All we can do now is wait.”

  The strange, green-flaming floats bobbed all around them. Stars twinkled overhead. Suddenly Joe sighted red and yellow lights moving in the distance. As the vessel drew closer, he shouted in relief, “Coast Guard!”

  Soon the long, trim cutter bore down on them, its powerful searchlight sweeping the water.

  “Ahoy!” shouted a crewman. “We’ll drop a ladder. Hang on.”

  Within minutes the exhausted trio had been hauled aboard.

  “Larchmont!” Frank gasped. “We must get there right away. It’s a matter of life or death!”

  The cutter plowed through the water at full speed. As it glided alongside the dock at Larchmont, Frank, Joe, and Rand leaped over the side and set out at a dead run for the town square. Frank’s watch showed nine-thirty!

  The three raced along the sidewalk toward the newspaper office. As they reached it, a car sped up and screeched to a stop.

  “Get them!” called a firm voice.

  Two men jumped from the automobile and grabbed the Hardys. “Policel” cried Joe. “What—?”

  “Frank! Joe!” came a familiar voice behind them. “You here, and all right?”

  “Dad!” burst out the astounded brothers as Fenton Hardy stepped forward.

  “It’s okay,” he said to the officers. “These are my sons.”

  “We’ve no time to lose, Dad!” said Frank. Briefly, he brought his father up to date. With revolvers drawn, the men followed as Frank and Joe tiptoed upstairs.

  They were just in time to see four masked men backing away from Bart Worth’s office! One, a brawny, broad-shouldered fellow, carried the cypress chest. The tall, thin leader was in the doorway, his pistol leveled at Samuel Blackstone!

  Frank and Joe dived forward and brought the armed man to the floor. A shot rang out. A bullet whacked into the ceiling. Then Joe tore off the fellow’s mask. Henry Cutter lay glaring at them. The other thugs turned to flee.

  “Drop your weapons!” Fenton Hardy ordered crisply. “You’re covered. You there—put down that chest!”

  Chet, Bart, and Blackstone rushed from the office.

  “You got my SOS, Mr. Hardy!” cried Chet. “I knew when Bart showed me that note it wasn’t from Frank and Joe!”

  Quickly the policemen unmasked Cutter’s henchmen. They proved to be Jed, Stewart, and the man the Hardys had seen catching alligators. The prisoners were handcuffed and led away.

  “How did you get here so fast, Dad?” Frank asked.

  “Fortunately I got a reservation on a jet from Jamaica as soon as I got Chet’s wire,” the detective explained.

  The Hardys clapped their stout friend gratefully on the back, and the others thanked all three boys for the rescue.

  Now Samuel Blackstone stepped forward. “I wish to settle the matter of the chest. Remember, whatever is in it belongs to the Blackstone family.”

  “Not at all,” Rand returned hotly. “The money was made by smuggling through Hidden Harbor, which is at least partly my property!”

  Blackstone thundered, “Ruel, you’ll find yourself up against a slander suit if you insinuate that my side of the family was dishonest!”

  “They were smugglers of pirate goods!” the professor insisted vehemently.

  Bart Worth spoke up. “Open the chest. If the papers are there, you won’t be suing anybody, Mr. Blackstone.”

  Frank quickly opened the locks and raised the lid, disclosing another, smaller chest. Unlatching this, the boy untied a cloth pouch and opened it.

  “Money!” Chet whooped. “Millions!”

  Mr. Blackstone and Professor Rand both reached for the bag. “Mine!” they cried together.

  Suddenly an odd expression crossed Frank’s face. He held up one of the packages of bills. “Confederate States of America,” he read slowly.

  A stunned silence followed. Wordlessly, Frank and Joe removed the stacks of worthless Civil War bills. Then Frank drew out a flat oilskin envelope. Inside was a leather book. Swiftly the boy leafed through the pages.

  “Well?” Bart Worth asked tensely. “What does it say?”

  Frank looked up. “Everything: dates, amounts, and prices for stolen goods received from pirate ships at Hidden Harbor. Look for yourself, Mr. Blackstone.”

  The big man quietly took the ledger. His face darkened as he read the notations. His aggressive manner disappeared.

  “I’m a proud man,” he admitted in a low voice. “I’ve always suspected this was true, but I—I couldn’t admit it, even to myself.” He turned to Worth. “I apologize to you, sir. Of course, I’ll cancel my suit.”

  “So there was no treasure in the pond after all,” Rand concluded sadly.

  “Yes,” Frank said unexpectedly, “there is!”

  Everyone stared at him in disbelief. “What do you mean?” Chet asked.

  Frank’s amazing announcement came as a surprise to Chet. He had been deep in thought wondering when he would be involved with the Hardys in another mystery. Sooner than he expected, THE SINISTER
SIGNPOST was to be their next challenge.

  In answer to Chet’s question, Frank said, “When I was searching for Professor Rand in the pond last night, I noticed that all the trees exposed by the blasting were cypress. Most of them have stood there for centuries, and will bring a huge fortune in valuable wood—to persons who can get it out and market it!”

  “So that’s what Cutter meant!” Joe exclaimed. “The cypress is the pond’s ‘main value’!”

  Frank nodded, and turned to the cousins. “You know where your treasure is.” He smiled. “You’ll both profit from it by working together.”

  “I have some money,” Blackstone objected, “but not enough for a project this size. Besides, I don’t think I could work with Ruel as a partner.”

  “Same here!” snapped Rand.

  “Try this idea,” Fenton Hardy suggested suddenly. “My client in Jamaica deals in valuable lumber. He’d like to branch out in this country, and I know he’d make a third partner for you both. He would contribute the necessary capital, but not unless you two settle your squabble.”

  “I’ve no money,” Professor Rand said thoughtfully, “but we could build the working plant on my land, and I’d give my home over for business offices. But the Indian village must be excavated first. State University will certainly finance it, when they see what the Hardy boys have dug up!”

  “Well—” grumbled Blackstone, “all right. But I’ll bet we can’t work together!”

  “You can make the deal work,” Bart spoke up. “Don’t forget, Frank and Joe saved both your lives. The least you can do is make peace.”

  “That’s so,” Blackstone admitted.

  Silently, he reached across and shook Rand’s outstretched hand. The old feud was over. Hid. den Harbor had given up its secret!