“And I’ve got some medicine that’ll ease the pain,” Homer added.
Dusty nodded yes to both offers. Frank stepped outside the lodge and away from the crowd to have a moment to think.
The wind gusted powerfully, pounding the heavy rain into Frank’s face, but he hardly noticed. His brother and friend were in trouble, and he felt helpless to do anything.
“I’m sorry, Frank,” Randy said, having followed him outside.
“Thanks,” Frank replied.
Now, over the sound of the wind, Frank thought he heard something. The rumble of an engine. A sound he recognized. “The hydroplane!”
16 A Last Hope from the Sky
* * *
Looking up, Frank spotted the plane’s running lights as the small craft, buffeted by the high winds, made its approach to land beside Cole’s Key.
The hydroplane shuddered as it touched down on the rough water. Frank ran to the dock, meeting Steven Willow as he climbed out of the cockpit.
“Dusty owes me a favor,” Willow said. “In fact, he owes me a hundred favors. That was the roughest trip I’ve ever taken.”
“What are you doing here?” Frank asked, wiping the rain away from his eyes.
“I got some disturbing news this evening,” Willow said. “For your sake, I couldn’t risk not coming.”
“What do you mean?” Frank wondered.
“A friend in Big Cypress told me all about Zack Platt,” Willow began. “Platt just finished serving a nine-month jail sentence for alligator poaching. He made friends with another prisoner, some guy who was a safecracker.”
“Trent Furman,” Frank said.
“Yeah, how did you know?” Willow asked.
“It’s a long story,” Frank replied. “And we have zero time to spare. My brother and Chet are trapped on a boat with a pair of cutthroats.”
“You’re not thinking about flying in this weather?” Willow warned. “I was crazy to get here, and the storm is getting worse by the minute!”
“I don’t care!” Frank shouted back.
“Frank, where’s Dusty?” Willow asked. “If anyone should try flying in this weather, it’s him.”
“Dusty broke—” Randy began to reply.
“He’s in the lodge,” Frank blurted out, cutting off Randy. Willow nodded, then headed toward the lodge.
“What was that all about?” Randy asked. “You know that Dusty’s in no condition to fly.”
“Yeah,” Frank replied, “I also know that he and Mr. Willow would never risk letting me fly.”
Frank climbed into the cockpit. The keys to the hydroplane were still in the ignition.
“You’re going up in this thing?” Randy asked.
“Randy, I don’t think Joe and Chet have a prayer if we don’t get to that boat before Zack Platt does.”
“Then I’m going with you,” Randy insisted.
“You know how to fly?” Frank asked.
Randy shrugged. “No. But it’ll be safer than you going up alone.” Before Frank could protest, Randy climbed into the copilot’s seat.
Frank headed the hydroplane directly into the wind to give it lift. He pushed it full throttle, trying to pick up enough speed to take off. Even in the swamp, the water was rough, and the plane shuddered as it bumped along the surface.
“Hang on,” Frank told Randy, as he pulled up gently on the controls. The hydroplane lifted off the water and soared upward, pushed by the oncoming wind.
“Keep your eyes peeled for Platt’s boat!” Frank shouted to Randy, over the roar of the engine and the howl of the wind outside.
“Got him!” Randy shouted back, pointing off to the right.
The airboat had been slowed by the heavy seas. Frank spotted its destination about half a mile ahead. “Running lights!” he shouted to Randy. “Looks like a large boat! That one must be Hubbard’s boat.”
Frank brought the hydroplane in low to get a good look at the fishing boat. Two men were pushing four other figures toward the rear of the vessel. A moment later the two men threw all four of their captives off the back of the boat and into the raging sea.
“They tossed them overboard!” Frank shouted to Randy. “I’m circling around. We’re going to pick them up.”
“Okay, Frank,” Randy replied.
Frank focused his mind on everything he had learned from Dusty about piloting the plane. He would have to land the small craft in a choppy sea and a raging wind. “Hang on,” he said to Randy.
Frank had the wind behind him now, and he was able to keep the plane level in spite of a few sudden crosswinds. The pontoons touched down in the trough between two large swells, but vaulted up into the air again when it hit the crest.
Frank kept a firm grip on the controls. The initial impact slowed them down enough so that when he touched down the second time, he was able to bring the craft to a successful halt.
Waves lashed against the side of the aircraft, rocking it until it nearly tipped over.
Opening the hatch of the cockpit and stepping out onto a pontoon, Frank saw Joe, Chet, Reuben, and Deputy Miles bobbing in the water about fifty yards away. They seemed to be having great difficulty keeping their heads above water.
“Their hands must be tied,” Frank told Randy. “I’m going after them.”
“I’m going with you!” Randy insisted, climbing out onto the other pontoon.
They dove into the bay. Frank was so pumped with adrenaline that he reached his brother in less than a minute.
“I’m all right,” Joe yelled to Frank. “Get Chet first!”
Chet was another twenty feet away. His head kept dropping below the surface, and he was swallowing a lot of water.
Frank tried to put Chet in a lifeguard hold, but Chet protested. “Cut the ropes, Frank. Don’t risk leaving the others out here while you take me back to the plane.”
Frank reached into his back pocket, relieved to find he had not lost his penknife. He quickly began cutting through the rope binding Chet’s wrists, until they finally gave way and snapped.
Frank could see that Randy was already halfway back to the hydroplane with Deputy Miles. “Where’s Reuben?” Frank asked as he began cutting his brother’s ropes.
Joe scanned the area, but Reuben was nowhere to be seen. Once loose from his ropes, the younger Hardy began swimming away from the plane, hoping to find his new friend.
Frank grabbed his brother by the collar. “If Reuben went under, we’ll never find him at night in these rough seas!” Frank yelled, tugging Joe back toward the plane. “And I’m not going to lose you in the process!”
Joe reluctantly swam back toward the hydroplane with Frank. Randy and Deputy Miles helped Frank aboard.
On the passenger side of the plane, Joe was also offered a hand up onto the pontoon. His mouth dropped open as he looked into the face of Reuben Tallwalker. “Reuben! How did you get back?”
“It was Seminole magic.” Reuben grinned. “Actually, it’s called the dolphin stroke. It’s sort of like the butterfly, but with no hands.”
Joe laughed, giving Reuben a friendly slap on the shoulder. Suddenly a gunshot sent up a spray of water a few feet behind them.
Fifty yards away, Joe saw Zack Platt standing on the bow of his airboat. The second blast from his double-barreled shotgun tore through the left pontoon.
“Get in!” Frank shouted.
Everyone crammed into the small cockpit of the hydroplane. The last one in was Chet. “I hope this thing will fly with so many people in it.”
“We’ve got more trouble,” Deputy Miles said, pointing through the windshield. Hubbard’s boat, the Hammerhead, had turned about and was headed back in their direction.
“What’s he doing?” Chet asked.
Joe’s eyes widened. “He’s going to ram us!”
“Not if I can help it!” Frank said, starting the engine. He opened the throttle and began picking up speed.
The Hammerhead veered to the right, trying to block their path.
&nb
sp; “We’ll never pull up in time,” Deputy Miles warned.
“I know what I’m doing,” Frank said reassuringly, then took a deep breath.
Joe saw Platt reloading his shotgun. The Hammerhead was directly ahead. “Frank, you need to make this happen soon.”
Frank nodded, though he was just short of a safe takeoff speed. He pulled back on the controls lightly, and the nose of the aircraft rose just as a shotgun blast struck the surface of the water below them.
Frank saw Furman duck his head as the hydroplane cleared the deck of the Hammerhead by a few feet.
“Yahoo!” Randy hollered as the plane continued ascending. “This is better than riding Volcano!”
Looking below, Joe saw Furman and Hubbard hauling the sacks of gold coins off the airboat. “Boy, I hate seeing those crooks get away.”
“They won’t get away, Joe,” Reuben stated firmly.
“You sound awfully sure,” Chet noted in awe. “Can you see the future?”
“No,” Reuben replied. “I can see the Coast Guard boat out of my side of the airplane.”
Frank saw it, too. A Coast Guard cutter moved in quickly on the gang of bank robbers. The cockpit rocked with laughter. It wasn’t until the laughter died down that Joe thought of something. “Hey, Frank. Do you know how to land this thing?”
“I’m one for one so far,” Frank replied calmly. Turbulence made the small craft rise up and swoop down suddenly. The cockpit grew very quiet.
The lights from the fishing camp came into view. “Brace yourselves,” Frank instructed. “It’s going to be a little rough.”
A moment later one pontoon struck the top of the water hard, then bounced up, slamming the other pontoon against the water as if it were the other end of a seesaw. The craft lofted up, rising over the dock of the fishing camp, then touched down on solid land and went into a slide. Joe closed his eyes. Chet and Randy were hollering at the top of their lungs.
Finally the hydroplane came to a halt. The cockpit was quiet again except for the sound of heavy breathing and sighs of relief.
When Joe opened his eyes, he had to laugh. To each side of the plane were two stilts. They had come to rest directly below the Hardys’ cabin. “Boy, am I glad you didn’t knock our cabin off its stilts.”
“If you knew who was trapped inside our cabin,” Frank replied, smiling, “you would really be glad.” Frank and Randy burst into laughter. Joe, Reuben, and Deputy Miles just looked at each other and shrugged.
• • •
The storm passed through that night, and by one o’clock the next day, the sun was shining in a clear blue sky as if nothing had ever happened.
Sitting in the grandstands at the rodeo, nursing their bumps and bruises, Joe and Frank saw cowboy after cowboy compete in the dangerous sport of wild-bull riding. “I’m glad to be watching other people face danger for a change,” Joe said to his brother.
Frank smiled. “I’m glad Trent Furman, Salty Hubbard, and Zack Platt are safely in jail.”
“To tell you the truth, I’ll be happy to get back to Bayport and solid ground,” Joe said. “The next time I get wet, I want it to be because I jumped under a shower.”
The boys watched Reuben ride Nightmare to victory in the bull-riding competition. Dusty’s right arm was in a sling, and Mr. Deeter refused to let him enter that event, no matter how much the Hardys’ daredevil friend protested.
Dusty settled for the two-man steer-roping competition. He and his partner, Homer, charged after the steer as it raced out of the chute into the ring.
Homer lassoed the steer’s back hooves and Dusty lassoed it around the head. Homer backed his horse away, keeping the steer from moving. One-handed, Dusty jumped off his horse, grabbed the steer by the horns, and twisted until it dropped onto its side. The crowd applauded wildly.
“Now, there’s one for the record books.” Frank nudged his brother as he applauded. “Steer roping with one arm in a sling.”
Dusty let the steer up, and Barney Quick removed the ropes. Dusty waved his hat to the crowd, offering his thanks.
“Here are Randy Stevens and Chet Martin,” Mr. Deeter announced over the public-address system.
“Chet Morton,” Chet called toward the announcer’s box from the back of his horse.
“Can you believe it?” Frank said, grinning. “Chet’s actually going through with this.”
“I’m surprised Randy’s dad is letting him ride,” Joe replied.
“Mr. Stevens was so proud of Randy for helping us solve this mystery, he said he could participate in any event that allowed a fourteen-year-old to compete,” Frank explained.
Barney Quick opened the chute, and the steer ran out. Randy caught the steer and lassoed its back leg in a snap. Chet was only a few seconds behind, lassoing the steer’s horns on his first try.
Chet jumped down off the horse and grabbed the steer by the horns. The Hardys exchanged surprised glances. Unfortunately, the steer was not giving up. It swung its head up and down, bouncing Chet along with it.
Finally Chet brought the steer to the ground. Exhausted, he waved his hat to the crowd while sitting in the dirt.
The Hardys laughed heartily. But when they heard only a smattering of applause from the other spectators, they rose to their feet and cheered loudly, leading a standing ovation for their two brave friends.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Aladdin
An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com
Copyright © 1997 by Simon & Schuster Inc.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
ISBN 0-671-00054-3
ISBN 978-1-44248-602-7 (eBook)
THE HARDY BOYS and THE HARDY BOYS MYSTERY STORIES are trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
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