CHAPTER XIII

Cast Adrift

As frank swung the Sleuth away from the boat landing in pursuit of Sweeper's speeding craft, he felt a sudden premonition of danger.

He glanced over his shoulder at the boathouse> half tempted to turn back and ask Joe to join him, but his brother had disappeared.

Frank shook off the feeling with a little laugh.

"I must be getting jittery," he told himself sardonically.

He guided the Sleuth skillfully across Barmet Bay, skirting ships and smaller craft and holding the boat to as fast a speed as he dared in order to cut down the distance between him and Sweeper.

The thin man's speedboat headed out to sea-and behind it, at a distance calculated not to arouse suspicion, the Sleuth followed.

The two boats held this position for a half hour.

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Then Frank saw Sweeper's craft curve toward Merriam Island.

He twisted the wheel of the Sleuth, and the trim speedboat described a wide, foamy arc as it followed suit.

Directly ahead, the boy saw Barmet lighthouse, a tall, white tower which warned ships away from jagged reefs and shoals. Stretching away from its base was barren, rock-bound Merriam Island.

Sweeper slowed his boat, and cautiously circled the island.

"Wonder what he's going there for?" Frank mused.

He waited until the craft disappeared behind a jutting finger of rocks, then cut the motor of the Sleuth and let the boat drift toward a tiny dock extending from a narrow, sandy beach.

Frank leaped out as the speedboat swung alongside the dock, and secured it to the landing. He looked at the lighthouse, but there was no sign of activity in the tower.

"Guess the keeper's asleep," he muttered.

The boy's conjecture was correct. During the day, except in foggy weather, the lighthouse tower itself served as a warning to incoming and outgoing ships. But at night the keeper stood watch, training his eyes on the waters illuminated by the slowly revolving navigation light. The old man's vigil had saved many a ship from the reefs.

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Keeping to the shore, Frank clambered over sharp rocks and ran along short stretches of narrow beach to the spot where he had seen Sweeper's boat disappear.

Soon he came to a cove and saw the craft rocking gently a short distance from land.

Sweeper was pacing the beach, smoking a cigarette and staring frequently out to sea.

"He must be waiting for someone," Frank told himself.

He stretchea out on a boulder, washed smooth by the sea, and watched the man. A low shelf of rocks in front of the boulder prevented him from being seen.

Minutes ticked by. Then an hour. Frank saw that Sweeper was becoming impatient, then angry. He paced the sand with short, jerky steps, stopping from time to time to glare at the sea.

Finally, he squared his shoulders, flicked a cigarette into the water, then rolled up his trousers and waded quickly toward the boat.

At that instant, the sound of a launch came clearly over the water.

Sweeper stopped and shaded his eyes with his hand. Frank also looked. The boat was heading directly toward the beach.

"This is it!" the boy thought excitedly.

But instead of putting in to the cove, the launch stopped well beyond the surf. The man at the

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wheel fumbled with something in his hands, then tossed a tin can into the water.

He waved to Sweeper, pointed at the can and swung the launch back toward Bayport!

"Now what?" Frank asked himself, puzzled.

He saw the can dancing on the waves. Then the jurf caught it, and a white lip of foam hurled it toward the beach.

Sweeper waded into the foaming surf and plucked the can out of the water. He pried open the lid and took out a slip of paper.

Slowly, he read the note. Then, disgusted, he crunched the paper into a ball and threw it into the surf.

The thin man waded to the speedboat and cast off. A few seconds later, the craft eased out of the cove and roared through the waves toward Bayport.

Frank rose from behind the sheltering rocks and ran to the sandy beach. He waded into the surf and snatched the soggy ball from the churning water. Returning to the beach, he unfolded the water-soaked paper carefully. The message was typewritten, and the water had smudged the ink, but the words were still legible. They read:

"Meeting postponed until nine o'clock tonight. Will meet you at buoy off Barmet light."

The message was unsigned.

Frank looked across the water. A hundred yards offshore was a buoy, its bell tinkling faintly.

Cast Adrift 11$

"That must be the buoy the note mentions," he mused.

He looked at his watch. There was still plenty of time to return to Bayport and later be on hand for the meeting.

Whistling, Frank walked along the shore toward the Sleuth.

"This is going to be interesting," he assured hinfc self. He wondered who had sent Sweeper the message. "Golly!" he thought. "Maybe it's from Dr. Foster himself!"

He cast off the mooring line of the Sleuth and, climbing into the cockpit, pressed the starter button. The motor caught with a roar, and the sleek, white craft backed away from the clock and started leisurely after the other fast-disappearing speedboat.

However, the Sleuth had not gone far when the motor began to sputter. Frank looked quickly at the gas gauge. The gas tank was almost empty!

The youth turned the wheel of the boat and headed back toward the island. He was none too soon. The motor sputtered and coughed violently, then lapsed into silence as the Sleuth again swung alongside the dock.

Frank debated going to the lighthouse and waking the keeper but decided against it. It might interfere with his plan for attending the meeting.

He considered sending Joe and Mr. Hardy a message on the speedboat's short-wave set but decided

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against that also. They'd worry about his absence, he reflected. But if he told them of his plan, Joe or his father might insist on joining him-and more than one Hardy eavesdropping on the meeting might betray them.

Frank looked across the water at the buoy. From the dock, it was about a hundred and fifty yards away-but the boy was confident he could swim the distance when the time came.

He sat down in the cockpit and glanced at his watch. It was going to be a long wait.

Hours later, streaks of red flamed across the sky as the sun seemed to sink into the sea. Then dusk fell, and soon night cloaked the island in darkness.

At first, Frank did not hear the sound. The tedious waiting had made him hungry, then sleepy. He dozed peacefully, his head on his chest.

It sounded again-the unmistakable hum of a motor.

Frank's head snapped up. He squinted his eyes and stared in the direction of the sound, but he could see nothing in the darkness except the rolling sea.

He found the binoculars which were kept in a compartment of the boat and trained them on the water. Through the powerful lens, he saw the tiny green and red running lights of an approaching but still distant speedboat.

Frank studied his watch. The time was twenty minutes to nine.

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"Wow!" he said. "I'll have to hurry!"

He took out paper and pencil and addressed a note to Joe and his father. He wanted to tell them that he was going to try to conceal himself in Sweeper's boat and overhear what was said at the meeting.

"Changing to Sweeper's-" Frank wrote hastily.

And at that moment, the pencil point broke.

Frank gave it a look of disgust. He searched the boat unsuccessfully for another pencil or a pen, then tried to find a knife to sharpen a new pencil point.

Finally, he gave up and jammed the partly writ-5 ten message into the short-wave set. He focused the binoculars again. The speedboat was much closer.

Removing his jacket and shoes, Frank stepped to the deck of the Sleuth. Then he dived cleanly into the water and struck out for the buoy.

The surf was even rougher than he had anticipated, and he gasped as the waves broke over his head. Settling into a slow crawl, he swam steadily toward the blinking light which marked the buoy.

The boy could see the speedboat clearly now, and he felt a tingle of surprise and relief as his eyes fell on a tender towed behind the craft. It was going to be easier for him to conceal himself than he had thought!

Minutes passed, and the churning waters began to sap Frank's strength. He heard the bell of the buoy tinkling a short distance ahead, and dug into the waves with renewed vigor.

i 16 The Secret of Skull Mountain

At last he reached the buoy, and clung to an iron chain which dipped deep into the water. The floating marker danced with the waves and flung spray into the boy's face.

Moments later, the speedboat swung past the buoy and came to a stop. It lay idly on the water, the tender behind it, and Frank saw Sweeper step to the deck and stare into the darkness.

The boy knew the buoy kept him from being seen, and, watching his chance, he swam quietly to the tender.

Soon, the launch Frank and Sweeper had seen earlier approached the buoy. Frank drew himself stealthily into the tender as the thin man's attention was fixed on the launch. He stretched out on the bottom of the boat and pulled a tarpaulin over him.

He heard the sound of scraping wood as the launch came alongside the speedboat. Lifting a corner of the tarpaulin, Frank peered at the strange craft.

Two men emerged from the cabin and stepped into the speedboat. One was a stranger to the boy. The other was Klenger!

Frank whistled under his breath. The surly, redheaded plumber hadn't left Bayport after all!

The two men sat down with Sweeper in the cockpit of the speedboat, and the three began to talk earnestly. Frank listened intently, but the sound of the waves washing against the boats and ihe tinkle of the buov bell drowned out their words.

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"Got to do better than this!" he told himself determinedly.

He inched toward the bow of the tender and, hoisting himself cautiously, felt for the painter. His fingers closed on it, and imperceptibly he pulled the tender closer to the speedboat.

Frank could hear the voices distinctly now, and he slid noiselessly under the tarpaulin.

The stranger was speaking.

"Alibis! "he sneered. "That's all I hear! I want action!"

"You'll get action," Klenger promised. "Just give us a little more time."

"Time for what?" the first man snapped. "For those engineers to fill the valley with water and ruin our plans!"

"Stop worrying about Carpenter and Ames," Sweeper advised him. "They haven't interfered with the work so far-and they're not going to!"

"I'm not as confident of that as you are, Sweeper," Frank heard the stranger say sharply. "I hear Carpenter's even got a couple of kids snooping around the mountain!"

Frank grinned.

"I'll take care of the kids, too," Sweeper assured him.

"See that you do!" said the first man. "Klenger, I'll give you twenty-four hours more! If Foster hasn't completed his tests by that time, I'll-"

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He broke off as a rattle of tin came from the tender.

"What's that?"

Frank kicked himself mentally. His foot had knocked over an oilcan, and it rattled from one side of the boat to the other with every wash of the waves!

"Sounds like a tin can," Klenger remarked.

"I'll get rid of it," Sweeper said. "We can't talk with that racket going on."

Frantically, Frank felt with his foot and pressed it against the oilcan. The rattle stopped.

"Never mind, Sweeper," the stranger told him. "It's all right now."

Frank breathed with relief. But it was shortlived.

"I'm not so sure," he heard the thin man say softly. He seemed to be standing right over the boy. "I didn't pull this tender right up to the boat. And I didn't spread canvas all over the bottom of it!"

He yanked off the tarpaulin.

"Okay, kid," he ordered. "Get up!"

Frank stood up, and Sweeper turned to the Stranger.

"This is one of the snoopers you were talking about," he informed him.

The stranger stared at the youth, and Klenger's mouth set in a hard line.

"I know the kid," he said harshly. "He's too

Cast Adrift US1

smart for his own good. I'll take care of him right now."

The stranger's hand shot out and pulled Klenger back.

"No rough stuff," he ordered. "The kid's father is a detective. You've put me into a big enough jam already."

For a moment, Klenger's hard eyes stayed fixed on Frank. His fists were clenched.

"Let's cut the kid adrift," Sweeper suggested. He pointed to the water. "The tide's heading out to sea. By the time somebody picks him up, we ought to be through with the job!"

Frank stared at the water, and his heart sank While the man had been talking, the boats had drifted farther out into the ocean-and Merriam Island was far too distant now for him to swim to it.

"That's the ticket," the stranger said. "Cut him loose, Sweeper I"

The thin man made sure there were no oars in the tender, then stepped back onto the speedboat. He unhooked ihe painter, and the tender drifted rapidly away.

"So long, kid!" he called mockingly. "Take care of yourself!"

Frank sat down in the tender and watched helplessly as the tide carried the boat slowly but steadily out to sea. He scanned the water for a sign of a ship, but there was none in sight.

The Secret ot Skull Mountain

He rolled up the tarpaulin and went over the boat carefully, hoping there would be something he could use for oars or a rudder. But he might as well have spared himself the effort.

Dejectedly, he sat down.

"You've put yourself in a fine fix," he told himself bitterly. "No oars, no food, no water to drink- and if 1 know anything about wind, a storm's coming up!"

It was true. Black clouds were billowing up in the sky, and the waves rose as the wind lashed the water.

Frank studied the water anxiously. Then, as his eyes fell upon the empty oarlocks, a plan formed in his mind.

He unrolled the tarpaulin, then twisted and squeezed a corner of the canvas into a short length of rope which he thrust through one of the locks. He tied the rope length into a tight knot, tugging it hard against the oarlock to make sure it could not slip through.

The youth went through the same procedure with the opposite corner of the canvas, knotting it outside the second oarlock. Then he stood on a seat of the boat, holding aloft the remaining two corners of the tarpaulin-and stretched his arms wide. The impact of the wind against the outstretched canvas almost knocked Frank overboard, but he gritted his lips and set his feet firmly.

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"Sweeper didn't count on my rigging up a sail!" he said to himself, grinning despite the tremendous strain on his arms and the spray which was flung in his face.

Aided by the improvised sail, the boat plunged through the waves toward the island. Suddenly a streak of lightning snaked across the sky. There wai a clap of thunder, and rain fell in torrents.

The waves, lashed to fury by the storm, leaped higher. Several times Frank almost lost his balance. But the boy was determined to return to the island.

Then it happened. A gust of wind tore one corner of the canvas from his hands. Frank reached quickly for the violently flapping tarpaulin, and lost his footing.

A huge wave sent the boat reeling and flung the youth forward. Frank grabbed frantically at the seat, missed-and plunged into the sea!

He struggled to the surface and shook the water from his eyes. The boat was fifteen feet away, and as he watched, the wind whipped it on.

He was alone in the stormy sea.