”We’re terribly sorry,” said Honey. ”We didn’t mean to frighten you.”
”You should have posted signs so we would have known you were here,” Trixie teased.
Thea got back into her crosslegged position and took a deep breath. ”Ah, but you know us temperamental writers. We don’t like to be disturbed in our research.”
Trixie failed to notice the implied hint. She plopped down near Thea and asked eagerly, ”Your new book—how’s it coming?”
”You certainly have a beautiful day for exploring,” Honey added politely.
”Yes, I’ve been down that way,” said Thea with a vague wave of her right hand.
”This area is really fascinating, isn’t it?” Trixie went on enthusiastically. ”There’s no end to the stuff you can learn about it. Jeepers, just the other day I found out that our very own Hudson River inspired one of the world’s first detective stories.”
”You’re kidding!” exclaimed Honey.
”Nope. One of Edgar Allan Poe’s earliest stories was called ’The Mystery of Marie Roget.’ It was based on the true story of the discovery of a murdered girl, Mary Rogers, in the Hudson.” Thea’s eyebrows arched. ”I’ve heard that the New York harbor police recover over one hundred bodies a year from the Hudson,” she said. ”How horrible!” Honey shuddered.
Not to be outdone, Trixie said, ”I’ll bet there’re all kinds of things in that river that no one knows about—cars, trucks, ships, and, of course, fabulous sunken treasure.”
”Sunken treasure?” Thea repeated.
”Sure! If you’ve done any research at all, you must have heard about all the pirate ships that have sunk around here. Then there’s the treasure Captain Kidd buried around here, too.”
”Oh, that,” Thea said. ”The only treasure Kidd buried around here was supposed to have been dug up centuries ago, before he was even hanged.”
”I’ve heard that, too,” Trixie said a bit defensively. ”But those pirates were awfully sneaky about finding good hiding places, not to mention the fact that a lot of them»—the pirates, I mean— ended up in shipwrecks. So it doesn’t do any harm to dream about stumbling on treasure that’s been overlooked for years and years.”
Thea laughed dryly. ”I suppose not.”
”Trixie’s just a dreamer at heart,” Honey explained. ”If her brother Mart were here, I’m sure he’d have something cute to say about Kidd stuff.”
”Only he’d probably say ’stidd kuff’ or something equally dumb,” said Trixie. To Thea she said, ”Did you see Sunnyside?”
”Well—” Thea began.
”That’s always the first place tourists visit. I’ll bet you’re quoting Washington Irving a lot in your book,” Trixie went on. ”He got most of his inspiration from this river. He especially designed Sunnyside so it had the best possible view of the river. No wonder he was so furious when the railroad was built right through his property and spoiled his perfect view.”
”Isn’t it strange,” Honey mused, ”how so many of the estates right along the river are owned by people who made their fortunes from railroads? And the tracks cut right through their front lawns, same as they do through everyone else’s!”
”It’s so hard for the billionaires to get to their yachts,” Trixie tut-tutted playfully.
Thea was silent, gazing out over the still water. ”Does it make you nervous to be down here by yourself?” Trixie asked concernedly.
Thea darted a glance at her. ”Not at all. I—I am afraid of water, though. Never learned to swim.”
Trixie felt a tap on her shoulder.
”Let’s go, Trix,” Honey said. ”I have to get back early, remember?”
”Huh—oh, sure,” said Trixie, getting to her feet. ”I hope we run into you again soon, Thea.” Thea waved good-bye casually. ”Just don’t creep up behind me next time!”
As soon as they were out of Thea’s hearing, Trixie turned to Honey. ”What’s the hurry? We didn’t even get to talk about the shark. Was I asking too many nosy questions?”
”You certainly were,” Honey chided. ”Or at least, I think Thea thought you were. Haven’t you noticed how quiet she gets when you bring up her book? I don’t think she was kidding when she said that writers don’t like to be disturbed.”
”I’m not trying to disturb her, for heaven’s sake. I thought I was helping her, by telling her interesting tidbits she might not know about.”
”Well, she already seems to know plenty,” said Honey.
Without really paying attention to where they were going, the girls were ambling down a path in the direction Thea had pointed out. Trixie spent most of her time watching the water, but once she looked up the cliff and caught a glimpse of a silver car.
”Jeepers, I didn’t even get a chance to ask Thea about her car,” said Trixie.
”What about it?”
”Why does she have such a nice one when she told us she was underpaid?”
”Talk about nosy questions!” Honey scoffed. ”You were actually going to ask her that?”
”Well, you know, indirectly....”
”Besides, there could be all kinds of reasons. Maybe she’s been able to save up the money. Or maybe she won it in a contest. Maybe she has a rich boyfriend. Maybe she took out a loan. Maybe her parents gave it to her. Maybe—”
”Okay, okay,” Trixie said hastily. ”Hey, look over there!”
The path the girls were on had taken a sharp downward curve. In the late-afternoon light, Trixie could see a peculiar formation of the rocks up ahead.
”Let’s go explore,” Trixie urged.
Honey looked doubtfully at the steeply sloped, rocky shore.
”Come on, we’re both wearing sneakers,” Trixie said. ”Aren’t you the least bit curious? It looks like some kind of hole cut right into the cliff. Jeepers, I’ve never seen anything like that around here before!”
Honey remained unconvinced. ”You go,” she said. ”I’ll stay down here so I can catch you before you fall into the river.”
”Don’t be a ninny,” said Trixie.
”Don’t be a daredevil,” Honey countered.
”Well, I’m going,” Trixie said, and she hoisted herself up onto a boulder.
”Hurry up,” called Honey. ”I should be getting back soon. This time I really mean it!”
Trixie felt full of energy as she clambered over one rock after another. Her love of adventure kept her going even after she lost her footing at one point and scraped her hand when grabbing a jagged rock. Her hand was bleeding slightly, so she had to favor it in the climbing that followed.
By the time she got halfway to her destination, she was breathing hard. She paused for a moment to study the cliffs above her. There was definitely a cave of some sort tunneled right into the gray cliff. Trixie scrambled upward, nearly dancing with curiosity to know what was inside the cave. Probably nothing, she thought to herself. She wondered briefly if Thea had encountered this cave in her explorations that day.
Several ledges carved into the cliff made the last several yards of the climb relatively easy. Trixie halted in the opening of the cave to catch her breath and to stop the bleeding in her hand with her sweatshirt.
Once she stepped inside, she had to wait another few minutes to let her eyes become accustomed to the darkness. Gradually she could make out several indistinct shapes. Approaching closer, she saw that they were large tubs. She walked over to them and peered inside.
”What in the world—?”
Inside each tub were big, beautiful fish. She looked closer and discerned that each container seemed to hold a different kind of fish. The largest tub was filled with tiny silver flashes of fish. She gazed around the front section of the cave and saw fishing rods and reels, nets, other fishing equipment, and what looked like parts of boats.
”This is quite a setup,” she murmured. ”I wonder why it’s so hidden away.”
Trixie walked carefully past the tubs and farther into the cave. As careful as she was, sh
e nearly toppled right into what looked like a large pit. With a hand clutching her thumping chest, she looked down into the pit and saw water. In the vast silence of the cave, she could hear the water lapping gently against the sides of the pit. She squinted and was finally able to make out the sight of—she couldn’t believe it!—hundreds of fish, cavorting madly about in the water below.
”What’s going on here?” Trixie asked aloud. She hadn’t the slightest idea, but it occurred to her that perhaps it was something illegal. Why else would it be so remote from humanity? And the only person Trixie had ever seen in this area, besides Brian and Loyola, was Thea. Could Thea have something to do with whatever was going on here?
”Trixie... Trixie Belden!”
Trixiejumped. Then she laughed nervously. It was only Honey calling, not some new breed of talking fish. Trixie walked back to the opening of the cave, caught sight of Honey, and made a vigorous motion for Honey to join her.
Honey’s voice echoed strangely against the cliff: ”Hurry up! I’m going to be late!”
Trixie had no choice but to obey. She slid down from boulder to boulder, grumbling all the way. ”Jeepers, just when I’m on the verge of discovering something really big, Honey has to go off and be the belle of the ball.... Little Miss Twinkletoes!” Trixie had the opportunity for a few other insults as she made her solitary way down the cliff, but she wasn’t nearly as angry at her best friend as she sounded. She had already decided she was going back to explore that cave the very next afternoon.
Sunday proved to be another glorious day of Indian summer. True to his word, by noon Brian was ready for a full afternoon’s work down at Killifish Point. He was in good spirits and didn’t mind in the least when Trixie invited herself and Honey along on the trip. The three Bob-Whites first drove into town to pick up Loyola, who had packed an enormous picnic lunch to celebrate the return of Brian’s health. Then the four young people drove to Killifish Point. It was such a warm day that they left their jackets in Brian’s jalopy.
After establishing a central meeting place, Brian and Loyola were soon off on their way down the shore, collecting and labeling specimens. Honey had brought along a library book to read. So far, Honey was the only one Trixie had told about what she had seen in the cave. Trixie had more than a sneaking suspicion that Honey wouldn’t advise returning to it, so she didn’t waste her energy trying to talk Honey into accompanying her.
Instead, Trixie mumbled something about taking a walk and then disappeared. Once again, she felt ready for adventure as she made her way toward the cave. She had brought along an old pair of gloves to protect her hands, and she had tucked a flashlight into her pocket. She wanted to get a better look at that pit and to see if there was any way of getting around it.
Now that she knew the route, it didn’t take her as long to reach the cave. She was glad, because she wanted to get back before the others began to think she was in trouble.
Trixie charged into the cave, flashlight in hand. It seemed to her that there weren’t as many fish in the tubs as there had been the previous day, although she couldn’t be sure. She looked anxiously all around her before proceeding farther into the cave.
She was crouching in front of the pit, poking about with her flashlight, when she heard it.
Someone was whistling just outside the cave.
Her heart racing, Trixie stood up. There wasn’t enough light for her to be sure of what was behind the pit, and she didn’t feel like going ahead blindly. For all she knew, those were man-eating fish below.
The sound of whistling came closer.
Frantically she darted her flashlight around the cave, searching for something big enough to hide behind. There was nothing. The supporting beams were too slender, and the tubs weren’t even big enough for her to climb inside. What am I going to do? she thought, starting to panic. She lost her grip on the flashlight, which fell with a plop into the pit.
Just then, the whistling stopped. Trixie swiveled toward the cave’s opening. There, silhouetted against the bright blue water of the Hudson, stood a misshapen, hulking figure.
”Honey, Help!” ● 8
BEFORE TRIXIE COULD SCREAM, the man asked angrily, ”Just what do you think you’re doing here?”
More than anything, Trixie wanted to ask him the same question, but the words were frozen in her throat.
The man came in out of the sunlight. He was about sixty or seventy years old, Trixie guessed, with a full white beard and ruddy complexion. His odd shape was caused by his cap, as well as the knapsack slung over his back and the equipment he carried in both hands.
He examined Trixie closely, as if looking at a fish squirming on the end of a line. ”What are you doing here?” he asked again, a little more quietly.
”I—I’m Trixie Belden, and I’m just doing a little ex—exploring.”
”Exploring, eh?” said the man, unslinging his knapsack and starting to unload it. ”Well, this here’s my place of business, which means that what you’re doing is more like trespassing.” He looked over at her again. ”But I suppose there’s no harm done.”
Uh... what kind of business are you in?” Trixie asked hesitantly.
”Look around you, little lady! If this place doesn’t make it plain that I’m a commercial fisherman, then I don’t know what would! My name s Pat Bunker, by the way, but everyone just calls me Bunker.”
Trixie swallowed hard. Not only did she hate being called things like ”little lady,” but she also couldn’t believe that this cave was used for something as harmless as fishing. However, Bunker didn’t seem to be trying to hide anything from her, and he seemed to trust her.
She came closer and asked, ”Why do you keep your fish in such an out-of-the-way place?”
It s the best place I know of,” Bunker said simply. ”If you find any better place, let me know! I guess you don’t realize that this here is an old silver mine that was tunneled into the cliff. There aren’t many of them left, and it’s lucky for me I found it. The pool over there”—he waved toward the pit—”is a part of the mine that floods this time of year. As long as I can get my catch up here—and I know of an easy path up here that you probably haven’t found—I can keep it alive until I get around to selling it.”
As Trixie gradually lost her fear of the man, she became fascinated by what he was saying. She never would have imagined that such an eccentric old man would be living this unusual life so close to Crabapple Farm. ”You must be an awfully good fisherman,” she said, leaning against a tank. ”Jeepers, I’ve never seen so many fish all in one place!”
Bunker smiled to himself. ”Nothing to it, little lady. The height of fishing in this area is Columbus Day, which is in October, in case you didn’t know! All month long, the fish are almost jumping into my boat. You have your bass and your perch, your sturgeon and shad and bluefish, and, of course, your killifish for bait.... Watch out you don’t tip over my catfish there—I have to keep them around till they’re eatable—”
”What about sharks?” Trixie asked abruptly.
”Eh?”
”You know, sharks. I don’t mean if you’ve ever caught any. I mean, have you ever seen any around here?”
Bunker hesitated. ”As far as I can recollect,” he said finally, ”the last shark was captured in these parts about thirty years ago. Now, I’ve been fishing here for forty, and I’ve never seen one. So I don’t think you have to worry your head about sharks, little lady.”
”You can call me Trixie,” she said, then frowned. ”I’m not really worried. Someone—a friend of mine—told me that sharks used to be very common in the Hudson.”
”Oh? Well, I don’t think that’s true. Sharks are saltwater creatures, you know.”
Trixie nodded, recalling that Loyola had told her that.
”And so they don’t rightly belong in the Hudson,” Bunker went on. ”On the other hand, in the spring some of our fresh water gets washed out to sea. The powerful ocean tides stay here, and that can keep this part of the
river pretty salty, especially between late summer and early spring. Follow me so far?”
Trixie nodded again. As Bunker was talking, he was moving some of his fishing gear to the opening of the cave. He pushed a tackle box out into the sun and sat down to rest. Trixie followed him and made herself comfortable on a nearby boulder.
”These ocean tides from the Atlantic,” continued Bunker, ”can attract unusual saltwater fishes. They use the tides to work their way upriver to places they aren’t supposed to be. It’s a funny thing—no one really knows much about it.”
”My brother is working on a project to analyze the water along here,” Trixie said proudly. ”I think salt is one of the things he’s testing for.”
”Good for him,” said Bunker. He pulled out a needle and thread and started mending one of his nets. ”We should know as much as we possibly can about our fish and how to keep ’em healthy. Fish are the greatest natural resource this state has. There’s some committee in town—”
”The Sleepyside Conservation Committee?”
”That’s the one. From what I’ve heard, it’s doing a good job of finding out ways of protecting our river from more pollution.”
”Yes,” said Trixie, leaning forward. ”But what were you going to say about the unusual saltwater fishes?”
”Eh? Oh, dolphins and porpoises, for example. They were seen regularly around here during the last century. Blackfish whales, too, I guess.”
”That’s awfully hard to believe!”
”But it was sharks you were asking about.” Bunker shook his head. ”I think it was a sand shark that was captured up at Peekskill about thirty years ago. And then I’ve heard of hammerhead and dusky sharks around here, but that was a century ago. No, sharks are mainly after food—they’re attracted to garbage in the water. And I guess the Hudson around here just isn’t dirty enough for ’em.”
”Let’s hope we can keep it that way,” Trixie sighed. ”Say, where do you keep your boat? I don’t see it.”
”Right down there,” he replied, pointing with his needle.
The Hudson River Mystery Page 6
