The Quest of the Missing Map

by Carolyn Keene

  “Now?”

  “Yes. Fred and Irene Brown have been taken into custody. The chief wants an identification.”

  “Be there in a minute. ‘Bye.”

  Nancy and her father went immediately to the police station. To their delight they learned that Ned had led the police to 47 White Street and aided them in nabbing the Browns when the couple had returned to release Nancy.

  “May we talk with them?” she asked the police chief.

  “Go ahead and good luck. We haven’t been able to get a word out of either of them.”

  Mr. Drew and Nancy talked with the couple. They learned nothing from Fred, who denied the kidnapping of Nancy from Emerson.

  “Forget it,” he said. “It’s the word of two against one.”

  Irene Brown proved to be less discreet. Nancy played upon the woman’s feelings by intimating that Spike Doty was in jail and had made damag ing revelations which implicated the couple.

  “Why, the double-crosser!” Mrs. Brown cried furiously. “He was the one who first learned about the fortune, and now he tries to throw all the blame on us!”

  “Then you’ve been working with him?” Carson Drew asked quietly.

  “Not any more.”

  “Rorke, perhaps?” Nancy inquired, watching the woman’s face intently.

  “Never heard of him,” Irene Brown answered, but her eyes wavered—indicating to her questioners that she was not telling the truth.

  “What did you do with the map you obtained from our housekeeper?” Carson Drew demanded. He had learned from the police that the paper had not been found in the Browns’ possession.

  “We sold it,” Irene answered briefly.

  “To Rorke?” the lawyer asked.

  “Look, I don’t have to tell you anything.”

  Realizing she had talked too much, Irene Brown fell into a sullen silence and refused to answer any more questions. Before leaving headquarters, Nancy and Mr. Drew again talked with Chief McGinnis.

  “I’ll have the Browns held without bail,” the chief said. “Kidnapping is a serious charge.”

  Although the man and his wife were behind bars, Nancy remained uneasy. Spike Doty and the mysterious Mr. Rorke were free and both were determined to get the Tomlin treasure.

  “Have they learned the location of Little Palm Island?” Nancy wondered. “Are they on their way to it?”

  She phoned Mrs. Chatham, who was as impatient as Nancy to get the treasure hunt under way. The widow telephoned Captain Stryver, urging him to speed preparations so that the Primrose could sail from New York as soon as possible.

  “I can have her ready by tomorrow,” he said. “If I had a little more time, though, I could be more selective about the crew.”

  “We can’t afford to waste another day,” the woman told him.

  The next morning Carson Drew, the Marvins, and the Faynes said good-by to their daughters at the airport.

  “Wish I were going along,” the lawyer said. “Have a good time and bring home the treasure!”

  “At least I’ll get a good tan.” Nancy laughed, squeezing her father’s hand and kissing him.

  The traveling group consisted of Mrs. Chat ham, Trixie, the three Smiths, Bill Tomlin, and Nancy’s special friends.

  Bess’s date Dave Evans was a blond, rangy, green-eyed boy who was on the Emerson football team. Burt Eddleton, George’s friend, was also blond, but shorter and husky. He, too, played on the team.

  With a grin Burt said, “A treasure hunt on a lonely island should have at least one pirate. I’m applying for the job.”

  Dave called, “I’ll give you a patch for one eye!” The others laughed.

  The trip to New York was fast. Taxis were hailed and the group headed for the dock and their first glimpse of the Primrose.

  “Isn’t she beautiful!” Bess exclaimed, gazing at the trim yacht.

  As Nancy looked at the ship, her attention was diverted by a small piece of paper which had just blown from behind a crate on the dock. Wondering if it had been dropped by someone aboard the Primrose, she went over to pick it up. The next instant she stared in astonishment. A hand-printed message on the sheet read:

  MEET YOU ON THE DOCK WEDNESDAY MIDNIGHT.

  SPIKE

  “That was last night!” Nancy thought.

  Her friends, with the exception of Ned, were already going aboard and being greeted by Captain Stryver.

  “Find something?” Ned asked Nancy.

  She showed him the paper. “Wow!” he exclaimed. “I wonder who received this.”

  “Ned, I think we should tell the captain that Spike might have placed a bomb aboard or tampered with the machinery.”

  The two reported the incident at once and a thorough search was made. Nothing was found.

  Although Nancy was relieved, she had an uneasy feeling that something was amiss. She would certainly keep her eyes open.

  The Primrose was a comfortable, seaworthy craft which plowed through deep waves with scarcely a roll. Even so, Mrs. Chatham, a poor sailor, soon was confined to her cabin with a mild case of seasickness. Ellen and Trixie shared an adjoining stateroom.

  Left mostly to themselves, Nancy, Ned, and the other couples thoroughly enjoyed the daylight hours on deck. The second night out they danced to records and held an impromptu entertainment. Bill Tomlin, a talented guitar player, was asked to accompany Ellen.

  The young people would not let her stop until she had sung several selections. All applauded her loudly. Finally she begged off, saying she must put Trixie to bed.

  “Come back soon,” Nancy urged.

  Trixie began to pout. “Ellen’s my roommate. I want her to stay with me!”

  Ellen merely smiled and promised a bedtime story, which Nancy was sure would put the child to sleep. A few minutes later Bill Tomlin slipped away from the group and followed Ellen down portside. Presently their voices, half-talking, half-laughing, could be heard against the sound of splashing waves.

  The other couples strolled about the deck, enjoying the mild breezes and stopping to watch the moon’s reflection ripple on the water.

  “Nancy,” said Ned, “since there’s no trouble on the Primrose, I hope you’ll forget about mysteries or treasure until we get to the island.”

  “It’ll be won—”

  “Help! He-e-e-Ip!” a girl’s cry interrupted Nancy’s answer.

  “That sounds like Bess!” Nancy exclaimed.

  “It is!” Ned said. He pointed to a figure just surfacing the water.

  CHAPTER XVIII

  Treachery

  IN a flash Dave had jumped in after Bess. Ned rushed to a deck telephone to ask that the Primrose be stopped.

  As the young people watched Bess and Dave swim toward the yacht, Captain Stryver and Mrs. Chatham came on deck.

  “What’s all the commotion about?” she asked. “Bess went overboard,” Nancy replied. “We don’t know why.”

  In a few minutes the two swimmers reached the side of the Primrose. A rope ladder had been thrown down. Bess, shivering and her dress and hair limp, climbed up slowly. Dave followed.

  Their friends plied them with questions. “Did you fall in?” “Were you pushed overboard?”

  Bess’s teeth chattered as she gratefully accepted a large beach towel from George and wrapped it snugly about her. Instead of answering immediately, big tears began to roll down her cheeks.

  “Sit here,” Nancy said, indicating a deck chair. “You’ve had a shock. Take your time and tell us what happened.”

  Bess said haltingly, “I asked Dave to get my sweater from the other side of the yacht. While he was gone, I rested my arms on the rail over there and suddenly it gave way. I screamed so you wouldn’t leave me behind.”

  As Bess finished her explanation, Bill Tomlin arrived on the scene. He went to examine the rail. Finally he said, “This is part of a gate which wasn’t latched properly.”

  George turned to Nancy, “Do you think it was a case of sabotage?”

  Na
ncy frowned. “I can’t get Spike out of my mind. He may have tampered with that latch before we came aboard.”

  The next day Nancy came on deck to find a tough-looking young sailor at the wheel of the Primrose. She did not like his appearance and recalled that Captain Stryver had been compelled to hire any available men.

  “Good morning,” she greeted him pleasantly. “I’m Nancy Drew. Your name?”

  “Snorky.”

  “Snorky, have you seen Captain Stryver?”

  “He’s sick in his cabin,” the man answered, a suggestion of satisfaction in his voice. He spun the wheel, bringing the yacht around slightly. “The mate’s flat on his back, too,” he added.

  “How strange both of them are ill!” Nancy said to herself.

  She walked aft. Meeting Ned, she mentioned the illness of the two officers.

  “There’s another mystery too,” he said soberly. “We seem to have changed direction. I think I’ll talk with Bill Tomlin. He’s been charting our course since we left New York.”

  He was gone about fifteen minutes. When he rejoined Nancy, Bill was with him.

  “I was right,” Ned announced grimly. “Bill thinks we’re off course. He has piloted motorboats all his life and studied navigation.”

  “I want to ask that guy Snorky a few questions,” Bill said, and the three went forward.

  Upon being questioned, the crewman took the attitude that guiding the Primrose was his responsibility, and not that of anyone else.

  “We may be a little off course,” he admitted, “but don’t worry about it.”

  “Swing her back now,” Bill Tomlin ordered sharply, “or we’ll talk to the captain.”

  Angrily Snorky brought the bow of the ship around so the Primrose once more was heading south. No sooner had the trio moved away, however, than the sailor again altered the direction. Bill Tomlin, who felt the lurch of the vessel as it turned, became irritated.

  “Please don’t get into a fight with Snorky,” Nancy pleaded. “Let’s talk to Captain Stryver.”

  At once the young people went to his quarters. Barely able to sit up in bed, the officer listened in alarm to their story. He declared he would be topside in a few hours.

  “I don’t think we should leave Snorky in charge,” said Bill. “He’s taking us directly eastward.”

  “East!” the captain exclaimed. “I’ve got to get out of this bed!”

  “No, you mustn’t exert yourself when you’re so weak,” Nancy protested. “If Bill may have the chart, I’m sure he can check on our course.”

  “The chart’s in my desk,” the captain mumbled, sinking back on the pillow.

  Bill found it and in a few seconds cried, “We’re way off course!”

  “I think Snorky is deliberately trying to delay us,” Ned stated. “But no one else can be spared to take his place.”

  “I can steer the Primrose,” Bill declared confidently. “There’s nothing to it. Come on. We’ll take care of Snorky!”

  He and Ned went forward. There was a brief argument with the sailor. When he refused to give up the wheel, the boys bodily removed him and Bill took over.

  The remainder of the day went along quietly, except that Snorky glowered angrily as he washed down the decks. All this time Nancy kept thinking of the note she had found. Was Snorky a friend of Spike’s? And had Spike arranged with Snorky to take the yacht on a wrong course?

  Another thought came to her. She confided it to Bess and George. “Do you suppose he’s responsible for the captain’s illness? Maybe he bribed the cook to put something in his food.”

  The next morning Bill Tomlin was taken ill while at the wheel of the Primrose. His attack was a mild one, though, and he refused to leave his post.

  Unknown to the others, Nancy and George kept an eye on the galley. They became well acquainted with the cook, winning the man’s gratitude by peeling a large pan of potatoes. After they had talked with him for half an hour, the girls decided he had not connived with Snorky.

  Nancy whispered to George, “Possibly Snorky engaged the cook in friendly conversation and waited for the chance to contaminate the food when the cook wasn’t looking.” George agreed.

  Next, Nancy asked Ned to slip into the forecastle and hunt for a clue among Snorky’s belong ings. His possessions did not reveal anything suspicious. Ned ran his hand under the mattress of the sailor’s bunk.

  “Here’s something!” he thought, holding up a small envelope.

  It contained an odorless white powder. Ned felt certain that Snorky had used some of it to taint the ship’s food. He reported his find to Nancy.

  “I have an idea!” she said. “Wait here for me.”

  Nancy ran to the galley and grabbed a large salt shaker. She took a small plastic bag from a drawer, then hurried back.

  “Ned, substitute this salt for the powder!” she said. “Put the white powder in this plastic bag. We’ll keep it for evidence.”

  Taking her friends into her confidence, Nancy organized a watch over the galley. On the pretext of helping the overburdened cook, the girls even assisted in serving the meals. At lunch Ned com plained his food tasted very salty.

  “Snorky is sly,” Nancy observed to George as they discussed the situation. “We’ll have to tighten our watch. If we don’t, I’m afraid something dreadful may happen before we reach Little Palm.”

  An unexpected change in the weather temporarily drove all thought of Snorky from everyone’s mind. The barometer fell steadily and within a few hours waves were breaking over the decks.

  Although weakened by his illness, Captain Stryver resumed command of the ship, relieving the weary Bill Tomlin. As the day wore on, the gale became worse so that everyone was driven below. Even the cook went to his bunk.

  Nancy, however, grew restless. Deciding that Snorky should be watched, she went to look for him. The sailor could not be found, even after Ned and Bill had joined the search.

  “Say, maybe he was washed overboard!” Bill said uneasily. “I’ll ask the captain if he has seen him.”

  Nancy did not agree. Without telling anyone where she was going, the young detective went below to the galley. Before she reached it, the door opened and the missing sailor came out, carrying a box in his arms. He turned in the opposite direction without seeing Nancy.

  “Now what was he doing in there?” she thought. “He must have had more poison powder for the food, and he’s carrying away the good stuff for himself!”

  Thoroughly alarmed, she started up the ladder, intending to warn her friends not to eat anything served. Nancy was midway up the rungs when the yacht gave a lurch.

  She was thrown off balance. Unable to steady herself, Nancy toppled backwards, falling to the deck. Her head struck hard and everything went black before her eyes. When Nancy opened them, she was lying on a couch in Captain Stryver’s cabin. Her anxious friends were grouped about her.

  “You okay?” Ned asked, pressing a cup of water to her lips.

  Nancy sat up, trying to recall what had happened. Her eyes roved from one face to another.

  “What is it, Nancy?” Ned asked, sensing that something was wrong.

  “Don’t eat,” she whispered. “Whatever you do, don’t touch anything coming from the galley!”

  Nancy told how she had seen Snorky stealing away from the ship’s galley.

  “He’s trying to keep us from reaching Little Palm Island,” she ended her story wearily. “Will you help me to my cabin?”

  While Bess and George made Nancy comfortable in her bunk, Bill Tomlin and Ned sought the captain. The three of them searched the ship. They found Snorky hiding in the hold, presumably to avoid Stryver. The captain demanded a reason for his conduct.

  “I wasn’t within a mile of the galley,” the man whined. “I was hunting in the hold for some extra clothes of mine.”

  Suspicious, Captain Stryver ordered another sailor to send the cook up with a sample of every dish of food which was to be served at dinner. Commanded to eat, Snorky su
llenly obeyed, refusing only to taste a bowl of split pea soup.

  “What do you know about this?” Stryver asked the cook.

  “Nothing, sir. Snorky must have sneaked into the galley when I was in the dining room.”

  “Throw the soup overboard,” the captain instructed the cook. “As for Snorky, we’ll lock him up until we reach port.”

  A thorough search was made of his cabin. No evidence against him was found other than more of the sickening white powder. Nancy had hoped a clue involving him with Spike would turn up. None had, but she did not swerve from her original theory that Snorky was working with people interested in the treasure.

  To everyone’s relief, the remainder of the trip was uneventful. Late one afternoon the Primrose came within sight of Little Palm Island. Through binoculars it looked like a tiny crescent-shaped spot of green, its sandy shores lined solidly with gently waving palms.

  The ship nosed her way cautiously ahead and at length dropped anchor a safe distance from the pounding surf. Captain Stryver, Bill Tomlin, and Ned decided to row ashore to make a preliminary investigation.

  Anxiously those aboard the Primrose watched the little craft row away. A few minutes later a crewman came up hurriedly to the group to report that Snorky had escaped from the cabin where he had been locked up.

  “He’s nowhere on the ship!” the seaman added. “He must have jumped overboard and swum to shore.”

  “How frightful!” exclaimed Mrs. Chatham. “Now none of us will be safe!”

  Nancy’s uneasiness for the men in the rowboat increased. Captain Stryver’s party might be attacked!

  CHAPTER XIX

  Impostor

  To the relief of everyone aboard the Primrose, the small boat returned from the island in less than an hour.

  “What’s the report?” Nancy asked eagerly as Captain Stryver climbed aboard the Primrose, followed by Ned and Bill.

  “This side of the island seems to be deserted,” the captain replied. “We did find considerable evidence of digging, though.”

  “Oh dear!” Nancy exclaimed. “That means someone has reached the spot ahead of us! And Snorky has escaped!”