Mystery of Smugglers Cove Read online

  Stealthily the boys went downstairs. They sneaked past the bunk where Nitron was sleeping, then opened one locker after another. They saw scuba gear, life preservers, nautical charts, and navigation instruments, but there was no sign of the portrait.

  Frank, meanwhile, knelt at the safe. He took out the miniature detective kit he carried, removed a small listening device, and placed it next to the dial. Holding his ear against it, he began to turn the knob, trying one combination after another to see if he could find the one that would open the safe.

  Suddenly Nitron’s voice boomed out behind him. “Hey! What are you doing?”

  Frank was paralyzed for a moment, and his mouth went dry. Slowly he turned around, desperately hoping to find a way out of his predicament.

  He gaped in surprise. Nitron was not standing behind him as he had expected. The smuggler was still lying on his bunk with his eyes closed! His lips moved. “What’re you doing?” he repeated. “You taking this stuff to Key Largo? If so, I want my cut. I’ll tell—” The rest of the sentence came out in an unintelligible mumble.

  Frank breathed a sigh of relief. He’s talking in his sleep! he thought. Boy, that was a close call!

  Still shaking slightly, he turned back to the safe, trying several more combinations. At last the tumblers fell into place. Silently, a fraction of an inch at a time, he pulled the door open and looked in.

  The safe was empty!

  10

  The Alchemist

  Frank quietly closed the safe, sneaked past the sleeping Nitron, and made his way up to the deck. The others were already there.

  “Nothing in the safe,” he reported.

  “Nothing at all?” Chet asked incredulously.

  “No. I can‘t—” He stopped short when he heard footsteps. Nitron came up from the cabin carrying a nautical chart, which he spread out on a locker at the stern of the boat.

  “Here’s Egret Island,” he told the boys, indicating the spot with his finger. “It’s roughly halfway between Florida and the Dry Tortugas. Our problem is the police that patrol the waters around there. ”

  “They might stop us,” Joe noted.

  Nitron nodded. “That’s why I said this was a dangerous mission. If the cops cut us off, I want you and Junior to go into action. Start a fight and distract them, so I can take off with the goods and the other three men.”

  “And leave us to be the fall guys?” Joe asked, not believing his ears.

  “I’ll pay you five hundred apiece for this. If you’re caught, it’s up to you to work your way out.”

  The boys stared at each other. “Now I get it!” Frank said through clenched teeth. “You hired us so your regular crew doesn’t have to stick their necks out!”

  Nitron shrugged. “Five hundred. Take it or leave it.”

  Just then Nitron’s crew straggled in from their shore leave. Nitron explained his strategy to them, then started the engine and guided the boat toward Egret Island.

  The Bayport youths conversed in low tones. “We can’t help these creeps against the police!” Biff declared.

  “We won‘t,” Frank replied. “But we’ll have to stay around as long as we can to find the painting!”

  Junior ambled up to them. “It figures,” he grumbled. “Who gets the dangerous end of the stick? Not him and his old buddies, oh no! We have to protect them so they can take the booty and run!”

  “Has he pulled this before?” Biff asked.

  “Sure. It’s always me or someone like me.”

  “Then why do you hang around?”

  “If I don‘t, I won’t be around, period. You think I wanted to get you guys into this? He forced me, because he’s got the goods on me. Now you’re in the same boat.”

  “I don’t understand,” Biff spoke up. “He can’t turn you in to the police!”

  “Who’s talking about the police? He’s got his own henchmen to do the job. And they don’t put you in the slammer, either. They put you on the bottom of the sea!” Junior shrugged helplessly. “You guys are all right. I really like you. Sorry for getting you into this, but I had no choice.”

  “I’m glad you told us,” Frank said cautiously. “Perhaps we can find a way out. Let’s think about it for a while.”

  Just then Nitron stopped the boat. Egret Island came into view on the horizon. He picked up a pair of high-powered binoculars and carefully scanned the shore.

  “There’s a launch,” he reported. “It’s going from north to south. We’ll move in right after it’s left, and just hope the next one doesn’t appear too quickly. ”

  His face tense, Nitron ran the boat close to the island and turned north. The boys noticed vacation homes facing the water. Farther on, there were only trees and thickets. Flocks of white birds with long sinuous necks flew overhead. “Those are egrets,” Frank observed.

  Nitron headed for shore, past a tangle of tall trees, vines, and thick mangrove roots. Soon they were gliding through a deep cove that extended inland for a hundred yards. At the end, Junior Seetro jumped onto the beach with the rope and tied up the boat.

  Nitron called everyone on deck. “Boys,” he said, “you stay here and guard the boat. The rest come with me.”

  “And when the cops show, we do ‘em in single handedly,” Junior grumbled as the smugglers went ashore. Then he turned to Frank. “Have you come up with any ideas?”

  “I’m working on it. Tell me, what do you know about this mission to Egret Island?”

  “Nothing. I’ve been here with them before, but they always left me to watch the boat. I never saw what the others did.”

  “Would you be willing to go to the police and blow the whistle on these guys?” Joe asked.

  “You kiddin‘? I’ve no proof. The cops wouldn’t believe me. The best they’d do is let me go and start snooping around, and then Nitron would know I squealed and do me in.”

  “They’d believe us!” Frank declared.

  “Oh, sure. Who are you but just another bunch of kids on the shady side of the law!”

  “We’re detectives,” Frank said. “The police know we’re working underground. We’re Frank and Joe Hardy.”

  “Hardy?” Junior’s eyes grew round as saucers. “You mean, the Hardy boys?”

  “Yes. We came here to find a priceless painting that Nitron stole from a man in Bayport. It’s a portrait of Simon Bolivar. Have you seen it?”

  Junior shook his head. “No, I haven’t. Man, are you really the Hardy boys?”

  “Believe it,” Chet said. “They’re working on a case, and Biff and I are helping them.”

  “Look, we haven’t much time to waste,” Joe spoke up. “Do you know where Nitron goes when he comes to Egret Island, Junior?”

  “I once heard him mention a hill at the head of the cove, past a tall palm tree, and beyond a pond.”

  “All right,” Frank said. “Joe and I’ll go and see whether we can find out anything. If the smugglers come back, just tell them we went into the woods for some coconuts, okay?”

  “Okay!” Junior declared. “And if you can get us all out of this racket and save our skins, I’ll never do anything illegal again!”

  Joe grinned. “We’ll take you up on that!”

  Moments later the Hardys were pushing through the undergrowth at the head of the cove. They followed a trail of broken branches and footprints in the sandy ground where the smugglers obviously had passed. The path slanted upward. Soon the boys found themselves at the top of the hill.

  “There’s the palm tree,” Joe declared, pointing. “But I don’t see a pond.”

  “Only one thing to do,” Frank decided. He took off his jacket and shoes, got a grip on the tree with his hands and feet, then worked his way up until he could grab the fronds and survey the area.

  “There it is,” he called out. “And a barn’s on the other side. That might be the place we’re looking for. ”

  He slid down the tree and put his shoes and jacket on again. The boys went to the pond, circled around it, and
stopped at a clump of scrubby trees. Through the branches they could see a long wooden barn one story high with a loft above. Dense black smoke poured from the chimney.

  “Somebody’s home,” Frank muttered.

  They slipped stealthily through the bushes until they stood at the side of an open window. Cautiously they peered in.

  The first thing they saw was a blazing furnace in the middle of the room. Steam poured out of its vents. Molten metal dripped into a cast-iron ramp and from there into a cast-iron vat.

  A barrel filled with lumps of lead stood on one side of the furnace, a container holding slag on the other. Ladles, scoops, and tongs lay on the floor. On the wall hung a table of astrological signs, and nearby an illustration of the planets circling the sun. Across the sun the word GOLD was written in large letters.

  “I don’t believe this!” Joe whispered. “It looks like the lab of a mad scientist!”

  An old man was standing near a table holding a test tube containing a golden liquid from which wisps of white vapor drifted upward. With his other hand he tugged his long white beard. He wore a golden robe dotted with black stars, and a tall hat in the shape of a cone.

  “Gold, show thyself!” he intoned as he gazed at the test tube.

  “He’s an alchemist,” Frank muttered.

  The old man set the test tube in a rack and walked to the furnace. He picked up a small ladle and, muttering to himself, looked at the molten metal dripping into the vat. Then he pushed the ladle into a pocket of his robe.

  A younger man wearing ordinary clothing came in from the back room. “Professor Viga, Nitron and his men are waiting in the woods outside.”

  “Tell them to come into the back room, Myer. We can talk there,” the alchemist replied. Then both men left the lab and closed the door behind them. Silence fell, except for the sputtering of the furnace.

  “If we go inside,” Joe suggested, “we might be able to eavesdrop.”

  Frank nodded. “Let’s climb through the window.” Grasping the frame with both hands and kicking off with his feet, he vaulted up. Then he swung his legs through the window and let himself down gently. Joe followed.

  The Hardys moved quickly toward the other side of the lab, stepping over odd gadgets and geometrical forms made of wood, metal, and stone.

  “These are supposed to give you voodoo powers,” Joe whispered, pointing to a number of spheres and pyramids.

  “Mumbo jumbo.” Frank chuckled.

  In the middle of the room, they felt the intense heat from the furnace and from the liquid metal dripping down the ramp into the vat. Suddenly Frank skidded on a stone sphere the size of a marble. He lost his balance and plunged toward the vat of molten lead!

  11

  The Heirloom

  Joe clutched wildly at his brother. His fingers caught Frank’s jacket and he yanked him back in the nick of time.

  “Are you okay?” Joe asked anxiously.

  “Fine,” Frank assured him. “As long as I don’t have to take a bath in that tub! Thanks, Joe.”

  Shuddering after his close call, Frank turned away from the furnace and moved toward the door. Joe was right behind him. The Hardys could hear the murmur of voices, but not what was being said. Frank gently lifted the latch and pushed the door open a crack. All they could see was a barrel of slag, or burned-out lead, but now they could hear everything!

  “Professor Viga, have you turned lead into gold yet?” Nitron demanded.

  “Not yet,” Viga admitted. “But I think I know the formula. A few more experiments, and I will have made the discovery of the century!”

  “He’s a nut,” Joe whispered.

  Nitron walked to the slag barrel where the Hardys could see him. Myer also came into view next to him.

  Pointing to the barrel, the smuggler asked, “Is this the burned-out lead?”

  “Yes,” Viga replied.

  Surreptitiously, Nitron slipped a lump of yellow metal from his pocket and held it behind his back. Myer took it and secretly dropped it into the container, all the while continuing the conversation with the eccentric old man.

  “He ‘salted’ the slag,” Frank whispered, referring to the trick used by crooks of planting something in a certain place, then pretending to find it.

  Suddenly Myer shouted, “Gold!” He reached into the barrel and pulled out the yellow lump that he had tossed in. He held it up for Viga to see. It gave off a soft gleam.

  Viga hurried over and seized it. “I must have overlooked this piece!” he croaked. “Is there any more? Let me see!” Excitedly he foraged in the barrel, tossing pieces of burned-out lead over his shoulder. His head disappeared bit by bit.

  At last he stood up again. “There’s no more,” he said, disappointed. Then he brightened up. “But this lump proves my formula’s correct. All I have to do is review my experiments and find out which one will produce gold every time. Then you can sell it on the world market, Mr. Nitron, and we’ll be millionaires!”

  Nitron nodded. “But right now we have a little problem,” he pointed out. “You said you’d make enough gold to finance the business. I’ve run out of funds completely, so you’d better give me that family heirloom you mentioned to tide us over until you make your gold.”

  Viga nodded. “I’ll stick to our bargain. Soon we’ll have all the gold we need, and I’ll buy the heirloom back.”

  Nitron shrugged. “Fine. I’ll borrow money on it to pay the bills until you start mass-producing.”

  Viga reached inside his robe and pulled out a black jewel case. Opening it, he displayed a beautiful diamond necklace.

  Frank nudged Joe. “That’s the valuable object Nitron was talking about, not the Wester picture!”

  Nitron took the necklace and held it up. The stones glittered brilliantly.

  “It belonged to my mother,” Viga said. “That’s why I don’t want to part with it forever.”

  “I’ll take good care of it,” Nitron assured him with a cynical grin. He put the necklace into the case again, slipped it into his pants pocket, and grabbed Viga’s hand. “And now we’ll have to get back to Key Blanco.”

  There was a shuffling of boots on the floor as the smugglers got to their feet. Frank and Joe quickly retreated across the laboratory, when suddenly the furnace erupted with a roar! Flames shot up and the vents spewed clouds of steam. Molten lead streamed down into the vat, while the safety valve went off with a shrill scream!

  The force shook the floor of the building. The next instant the door to the back room burst wide open. The Hardys were revealed in the glare of the blazing furnace!

  “Frank and Joe, what are you doing here?” Nitron demanded. “I ordered you to stay on the boat!”

  The boys turned and ran across the lab.

  “They’re spies!” Nitron screamed. “Catch ‘em!”

  He and his smugglers rushed up to the young detectives who had no chance to climb through the window. They circled around to the other side of the furnace, where a tall ladder led to the loft.

  Joe spotted a large box full of marble-sized stone spheres marked with the mystical stars of alchemy. He scooped up a handful and hurled them under the feet of their pursuers. Nitron and his men began to slip and slide. They lost their balance and grabbed wildly at one another. Then they fell in a heap on the floor.

  The Hardys scrambled up the ladder to the loft. Frantically they looked around for a window or skylight that would let them out onto the roof. But there was no exit of any kind! Joe tried to kick the ladder down. Too late! The smugglers were already swarming up toward the loft.

  “We’re trapped!” Joe exclaimed.

  Frank pulled his brother into a niche in the wall next to the ladder, gesturing for him to be silent.

  One by one, Myer and the smugglers climbed from the ladder into the loft and, not seeing the Hardys, rushed to the other side. Nitron came last. As he stepped into the loft, Viga’s jewel case, which was protruding from his back pocket, fell out. Not noticing it, the smuggler rushed t
o the rear, where his companions were shouting and looking for the boys.

  Frank quickly grabbed the jewel case, then he and Joe skidded down the ladder, pulling it after them to the floor. Nitron and his men heard the noise and gathered at the edge of the loft. They yelled furiously and shook their fists.

  Viga had watched the chase in dazed silence. Now he spoke up. “What is this all about?”

  “They’re smugglers!” Frank hissed as the boys turned to run out of the building. “Criminals. Here’s your necklace. Don’t give it back to them!” He shoved the jewel case at the bewildered old man. Then he rushed outside with Joe at his heels.

  Viga followed. “Wait!” he called out. “You mean all my alchemy was for nothing?”

  “That’s right, Professor,” Frank said, grabbing the man’s arm. “Come on. You should report this to the police. That lump of gold was planted by Myer. We saw the whole thing. He only pretended to find it in the barrel. ”

  Viga was aghast. “My assistant? He’s one of them?”

  “He is,” Frank confirmed, dragging the professor along as they moved rapidly back toward the boat. Unfortunately, Viga held them up. The alchemist’s ladle in his pocket weighed him down, and he had to hold his robe above his ankles with one hand to avoid tripping on it. His cone-shaped hat kept slipping down over his eyes, forcing him to push it back in order to see where he was going.

  By the time the group reached the top of the hill, Viga was panting and puffing.

  “Please keep going, Professor,” Joe encouraged him. “We’re almost there.”

  “The smugglers must have climbed down from the loft by now,” Frank said. “I’m sure they’re hot on our trail.”

  Sounds in the underbrush behind them indicated that Nitron and his gang were drawing near. Desperately the Hardys hurried the old man down the hill. Finally they saw the boat, with Chet, Biff, and Junior Seetro on deck waving at them.

  Just then Viga tripped over his gown and fell. His hat tumbled off, and the boys had to stop and help him to his feet.

  Nitron and his men leaped out of the underbrush and attacked them! Chet, Biff, and Junior jumped ashore and plunged into the fight. A wild melee ensued. Biff landed a roundhouse right that leveled one of the smugglers. Chet, swinging his arms with hands clasped, pounded another in the stomach and made him double over.