Mystery of Crocodile Island

by Carolyn G. Keene

  Nancy complied. She assumed that the coral rock had been there a long time, but suspected that something precious might have been buried before the tiny polyps had built their pile of rock on top of it.

  She chipped at the coral with the spade, and presently saw a few more doubloons. She handed them up to Tessie, then Nancy broke off more of the rock. In a few moments she climbed out of the hole, but helped Tessie down.

  This time the little girl exclaimed, “Oh, I found a bracelet!” and climbed out.

  Nancy explained that all treasure found must be taken to police headquarters and listed. “You can’t keep everything you find,” she added. “It’s against the law.”

  Nancy exclaimed, “It’s a Spanish doubloon!”

  George scraped the hole thoroughly, but found nothing more, and came back up.

  “Now I suppose we must put all that sand back,” Bess said with a sigh.

  “Of course,” George replied. “Otherwise someone could fall in and get hurt. Here, my dear cousin, you haven’t been digging for a while. You start.”

  Bess did not look very happy, and the bald-headed man stepped up. “Don’t worry, I’ll do it for you,” he offered, and took the spade.

  With powerful arms he threw the sand back into the hole and soon the beach looked just as it had before.

  “Thanks,” Bess said. “That was very nice of you.”

  “Don’t mention it. Want an ice cream?”

  “Oh—no, thanks. I—I’m on a diet.”

  The man smiled and left to take his spade back to the car.

  George chuckled. “How come you’re turning down food?”

  Bess blushed. “As I said, I’m on a diet!”

  George and Nancy laughed. “Best joke I’ve heard in years!” George exclaimed. “If he had been young and handsome, Bess would have eaten three banana splits!”

  Mrs. Turnbull’s children became restless now that the treasure hunt was over and asked if they could have their lunch. The woman nodded and again thanked Nancy for rescuing Tessie. She promised to take the treasure to the authorities on their way home, then beckoned her charges toward the grove. The children waved good-by and followed the woman.

  After they had gone, Nancy said, “I’m sure someone else found the rest of that treasure.”

  “I hope he reported it,” George said, grinning.

  The three friends walked along the beach.

  “From Mrs. Cosgrove’s description,” Nancy said, “this should be the way to the old lighthouse.”

  “You’re right,” George confirmed a few seconds later, when they saw the building inside a fenced area. It was about sixty feet in height, cone-shaped, and made of brick.

  Several other visitors, including a group of boy scouts, had gathered in front of the gate and the girls joined them. “The tour will begin in a few minutes,” the scoutmaster told them.

  He had hardly finished speaking, when an attractive young woman in a ranger’s uniform unlocked the gate. She admitted the visitors and led them around the lighthouse toward the water. They went up to a small porch and gathered around her as she talked about the building’s history.

  “This lighthouse hasn’t been used for years,” she said, “because others have been built farther out in the bay. However, it has an interesting background. This building is not the original one.”

  “What happened to that one?” a scout asked.

  “It was burned.”

  “Was anyone in it?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. The lighthouse keeper John Thompson and his black assistant. It was dangerous living out here at that time because the Indians who occupied this territory were not friendly. Many of the Seminoles had had their wives and children taken away by white people, who made them slaves. Naturally they were furious and did everything they could to retaliate.

  “One night a crowd of Indians came here. A circular stairway led to the top, where the great lantern was. The Seminoles set the old wooden building on fire to prevent the keeper and his assistant from escaping. The two men hid in the tower, but bullets whizzed at them continuously. The black man was shot and died, and the keeper was wounded. But the fire attracted the attention of two ships offshore.”

  “Did anyone come to rescue them?” Bess asked anxiously.

  “Yes, but meanwhile John Thompson rolled a keg of powder down the stairway. When it hit the fire below, the powder exploded and the Indians ran for their lives!”

  “Good!” a boy scout exclaimed. “But did Mr. Thompson get saved?”

  “Yes, but the rescuers almost failed. When the ships got closer to the lighthouse, they sent out a lifeboat, but the crew realized that it would be impossible to climb to the top of the tower. Instead, they tried sending out a kite from which there was a stout cord for Mr. Thompson to grab. Unfortunately he wasn’t able to, so they tied the twine to a ramrod and fired it from a musket. This time Thompson grabbed the cord and used it to haul up heavier rope. On it two men climbed to the tower room to take care of him. He reached the ground safely.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” Bess said.

  “The black man was buried,” the ranger went on, “but I’ve never seen his grave. It was unmarked so the Indians couldn’t find it.”

  She let the visitors inside the lighthouse, which had been modernized and had an upstairs bedroom. After they had inspected the sparse but comfortable furnishings, they went down again and walked outside.

  “I want to show you some of the bushes around here,” the ranger said, pointing to a shrub. “This is called an inkberry bush. It was used by the Indians and the early settlers of the area to write letters with.”

  “How?” one of the boy scouts wanted to know.

  “The liquid from its berries is just like ink,” the ranger replied. From a little basket that she carried on her wrist, she took a number of small plastic bags. Each contained an inkberry. She handed them out to the visitors as souvenirs.

  “These berries were also used to make a dye,” she explained. “When you get home, try to write with the ink.”

  The boy scouts giggled. “On regular paper?”

  “Sure. White paper, yellow paper. You can even use a paper bag.”

  Next the young woman pointed out a bush called sea grape. “This yields fruit to make jelly,” she said. “But notice the leaves. They are very thick, and you can write on them.” She took one off the bush, picked up a small stick from the ground, and wrote:Thank you for coming.

  I hope you had a good time.

  Then she handed the leaf to the scoutmaster. He passed it on to his charges and thanked her for the interesting tour. Now she opened the gate and the visitors said good-by.

  When the girls were back in their car, George grinned. “I’ll remember that sea-grape bush. If I’m ever in a tight spot out on the water, I’ll write a message on one of them and let it float ashore.”

  Nancy laughed. “You may have to wait twenty years before someone picks it up!”

  The girls drove back to Key Biscayne, chatting about their experiences on Cape Florida. When they reached the business district, traffic became congested and momentarily stopped.

  Nancy watched the scene in front of her and suddenly gasped. “Bess ! George!” she said. “Do you see those two men getting into that red car up ahead?”

  “I see them,” George said. “They look like Matt Carmen and Breck Tobin!”

  “Right!” Bess agreed. “What are we going to do?”

  Just then traffic began to move again. The suspects started their red sedan and pulled in a few cars ahead of the girls.

  “Let’s chase them!” George urged.

  “Yes,” Nancy said. “Only right now it’s a rather slow chase.”

  At the next big intersection their quarry turned right. The girls followed and kept the sedan in sight. Soon the traffic thinned out and Nancy sped after the two suspects!

  CHAPTER XIV

  Periscope Pursuit

  THE driver of the car Nancy was
pursuing seemed to be aware that he was being followed. Not only did he put on speed, but he turned corners with squealing wheels. Nancy and her friends were convinced that the men were indeed Carmen and Tobin.

  Bess, who was tossed violently from side to side in the rear seat, begged Nancy to slow down. “Please don’t go so fast! We’ll overturn!”

  “Sorry,” Nancy replied, then grinned. “This time those men are afraid of us. A sure sign of guilt. They don’t want us to alert the town cops.”

  They reached an intersecting highway, and the men drove onto it. They were getting ahead of the girls and it was obvious that they had no intention of obeying the speed limit.

  “They’re worried about being caught,” George said. “On the other hand, I’m sure they wouldn’t want to be stopped by the police to show their licenses. That would be a dead giveaway.”

  Nancy did not want to disobey the traffic laws, but how else was she going to catch the two suspects? She gave her car more power and it raced along the highway.

  George remarked, “If we could only get close enough to see the license number, we could report those men to the police instead of chasing them.”

  Nancy agreed and asked, “Did you notice anything on the license plate?”

  “Only that it was from Connecticut,” George answered. “Maybe the car was stolen, and that’s one reason why they want to get away in such a hurry.”

  The words were hardly out of George’s mouth, when the girls heard a siren behind them.

  “Oh, oh!” Bess said, worried.

  Obediently Nancy drove to the side of the road and waited for the police car to pull alongside her. An officer jumped out and walked up to the girls.

  “You’re going over seventy in a fifty-five mile zone,” he grumbled. “What’s the idea?”

  “We’re chasing a car,’ Nancy said. ”But now we’ve lost it. We believe one of the passengers is wanted by the Navy for going AWOL. His name is Giuseppe Matthews, but he’s known under the alias of Matt Carmen or Breck Tobin.

  “How do you know about all this?”

  “He owns a boat called The Whisper and has been harassing us in Biscayne Bay. Yesterday we were at the Naval Office and saw a picture of him. You can check with Captain Smith.”

  The officer hesitated a moment, then said, “What did the car look like?”

  “It was a red sedan with a Connecticut license plate,” George put in.

  “All right. I’ll take care of the matter and send out an alarm. Since you were trying to do a good deed, I won’t give you a ticket this time. But from now on, leave chasing criminals to the police.”

  Nancy nodded. “It’s just that he turned up ahead of us in the downtown traffic,” she said.

  “I understand. And thanks for the information.”

  The officer said good-by and went back to his car. Nancy pulled out onto the highway again and to the surprise of Bess and George did not head home. Instead she went toward the waterfront.

  “Where are you going?” Bess asked.

  “If the two men were Breck Tobin and Matt Carmen, they’re probably headed for The Whisper.”

  “Right. But what makes you think we’ll catch up with them? They’re way ahead of us by now.”

  “True. On the other hand, if they suspect we tipped off the police, they may change their minds and not go to their boat. We may be able to find The Whisper at a dock,” Nancy reasoned.

  “Pretty smart,” Bess agreed. “Let’s go!”

  The young sleuths drove as close to the water’s edge as they could, then got out of the car and walked. They looked for a red sedan, as well as The Whisper. After carefully scanning all the boats and parking areas, without finding either they gave up.

  “I’ll bet they took the boat and skipped to Crocodile Island,” George said. “They probably parked the car in some garage.”

  “Well, it was a good try,” Bess added.

  Nancy drove to the Cosgrove house. Their hosts were not there. The telephone was ringing so Nancy answered it. The caller was Colombo.

  “Oh, hello,” Nancy said. “How are things going for you?”

  “Very fine,” the young man replied. “I like my work, and the people at the club are very good to me.”

  “Have you heard any news from Crocodile Island?”

  “Yes, I have,” Colombo answered, “A worrisome piece of news. My friend Sol there got a message through to me at the YMCA. He advised me to get out as fast as I could, since Gimler had found out I was staying there and threatened to have me arrested.”

  “Oh, dear,” Nancy said. “I’m sorry to hear you’ve been tracked down. Have you any idea how Gimler knew?”

  “No. But I took Sol’s advice and moved out right away. If you have a pencil and paper handy, I’ll give you my new address and phone number.”

  “Good. Hold on just a minute.”

  When Nancy returned with a note pad, he dictated the information. Then she asked him, “Colombo, did you ever see a submarine near Crocodile Island?”

  “A submarine? No. But it’s strange you should ask. Sol mentioned once that he’d seen a periscope. But the sub never surfaced while he was watching, so I thought he’d mistaken something else for a periscope.”

  “Has Sol told you anything else?” Nancy asked.

  “Yes. He overheard Gimler say to one of the workmen that he wanted no more visitors on Crocodile Island until he gave the word. He said something like ‘People are too inquisitive, and not about crocodiles, either.’ ”

  Nancy thanked Colombo for the information and then said to him, “You’d better be careful.”

  “I will,” he promised.

  Nancy reported the conversation to Bess and George, and added, “I have a strong hunch that the crocodile farm is a cover-up for some bigger operation. I wish I knew what it was.”

  Bess spoke up. “Do you think it involves that big pine box we saw lowered from the freighter?”

  “Probably,” Nancy replied. “The freighter, The Whisper, and the submarine are all part of it, I’m sure.”

  “If you’re right,” George said, “what do we do next?”

  “Tomorrow, let’s see if we can locate the periscope and try to follow the sub,” Nancy suggested.

  “What!” Bess exclaimed. “If you’re going on another wild-goose chase, count me out!”

  “Okay,” said George, “we’ll leave the chicken at home. If you prefer that to a great adventure, you can have it. Nancy, I like your plan. I suppose our going will depend on the tide. When Danny comes home, let’s ask him.”

  Nancy nodded. “Also, we’ll have to find out if the Pirate has been repaired.”

  Bess laughed. “I see there’s no holding you back. And you know perfectly well I don’t want to be thought of as a chicken. We’ll all go.”

  “Thank goodness!” George said. “I was just beginning to think I’d have to put you in a coop.”

  Bess made a face at her cousin, then she changed the subject. “Here comes Danny. Let’s ask him about his boat.”

  The young man said he was happy to tell them that the Pirate was in good running order once more. “I’ll look up the tide table,” he said. When he returned, Danny announced that morning would be the best time to go. “Are you game to get up real early?”

  “Sure,” the girls chorused.

  By six-thirty they were seated in the skiff. Danny put on full speed and the Pirate bounced across the water-covered sand dunes. When they reached the green channel alongside Crocodile Island, Nancy picked up the binoculars and stared ahead.

  Suddenly a broad grin appeared on her face. “I see it!” she exclaimed.

  In the distance she had discovered the periscope. It seemed to be motionless. The sub evidently was lying in the channel.

  Nancy asked Danny to race toward it as fast as he could. They had barely started, however, when the periscope disappeared.

  “The sub is taking off!” George exclaimed. “Oh, I hope we can catch it!”

/>   Danny followed the green waterway into the ocean. The elusive periscope had not appeared again, and the young people assumed that the sub was now in deeper water.

  “Oh, hypers!” George cried out, using one of her favorite expressions. “Now we’ve lost it! Where did it go?”

  They all knew it was futile to search in the wide expanse of ocean. The only possible way to spot the sub would be from a plane or a helicopter.

  “We’d better turn back,” Danny suggested. “It’s a long way home, and I’m afraid we’ll have to run for it to make Biscayne Bay before low tide.”

  He entered the channel again, putting on full speed. But when he turned into the shallow water beyond Crocodile Island he looked worried.

  “Do you think we’ll make it?” George asked him.

  “I’ll do my best,” he said grimly.

  There was no more conversation as the skiff fairly flew on top of the water. Everything went well until they were about halfway home. Danny, who had been turning left and right to avoid the higher dunes, suddenly swerved very hard. He straightened the boat again, but within seconds it rammed into a long sandbank. The motor churned desperately for a moment, then stopped.

  The impact had knocked all three girls from their chairs. They flew through the air and landed with a resounding splash in the water!

  CHAPTER XV

  Jungle Attack

  DRENCHED with seawater and covered with sand, Nancy, Bess, and George stood up alongside the Pirate. To Danny’s amazement they were not angry. Instead, they started to laugh. George said, “Thanks for the unexpected bath!”

  Bess, looking at the skiff, remarked, “I guess we’ll have to walk home.”

  “Or wait for high tide,” Danny told her. “Instead of waiting, however, you could walk to that key over there and investigate the wildlife. It isn’t far from here.”

  “Does anyone live on it?” Nancy asked.

  “No, it’s uninhabited.”

  Bess chose to stay with Danny and dry out in the hot sun, but Nancy and George were interested in seeing the key, so they sloshed through the shallow water to the mangrove-lined island.