Joe contacted the two other nearby airports. A jetliner was leaving from the second, and every precaution would be taken. The Hardys waited at the Morton farm until noon, but no incident was reported from either field.
“Probably the message meant eleven o’clock tonight,” Frank said, and called the airports again to renew the warning.
As the afternoon wore on and Mr. Hardy did not return, the boys gave up the idea of going to North Woods that day.
“What say we drive to the airports and do a little checking?” Frank suggested. Everything, however, was routine at the public airports. Nothing had been heard from Wayne or of his plane. And no ship had been chartered for a flight that evening. The boys came away disappointed.
By dinnertime Frank and Joe had reached the conclusion that if the remark had anything to do with a plane, it must be a private one that would take off at eleven, and probably from a private flying field.
Frank declared, “From what’s happened so far —wallet, plane, that yacht blinking its lights off and on, and the wailing siren—I believe there might be something doing over the ocean. Suppose we wait out there tonight to find out.”
Joe agreed. After dinner the boys told their mother and aunt of the proposed trip. Before Mrs. Hardy could express herself on the subject, Aunt Gertrude said excitedly:
“Take your two-way radio and keep in touch. If anybody bothers you, I’ll give him a piece of my mind!”
The boys promised to take the set. Reluctantly Mrs. Hardy agreed to their going. Just before dark, they left for their boathouse, carrying binoculars as well as the radio. Joe unloosed the moorings and they shoved off.
The motor purred into action, but the young detectives decided on a trial spin before heading toward the open sea.
“She’s okay,” Frank called, after the boys had circled the bay a few times.
He guided the motorboat out of the inlet, which they had negotiated so perilously the evening of the storm. Tonight the ocean was as smooth as a new highway. Stars twinkled in the cloudless sky, but there was little light from the thin crescent moon.
“Oh, oh,” Joe said presently. “We’d better not forget Aunt Gertrude.” He pulled up the collapsible antenna and switched on the two-way radio. “Hello, Aunt Gertrude. Are you listening?” Then he turned the selector to hear her answer.
The receiver crackled with static, which was followed by a voice like an umpire calling a strike. “Listening! I’ve been waiting an hour. Where are you boys?”
“On a calm sea. Nothing to worry about.”
The boys did not know whether what they heard was static or Aunt Gertrude snorting.
As Joe clicked off the set, he heard another motorboat and glanced back. He noticed moving red and green lights not far away.
“I’m afraid we’re being followed!” he said to his brother.
Frank peered across their churning wake. The strange boat was gaining rapidly on them. He let out the throttle all the way, and the Sleuth leaped forward like a frightened rabbit.
For a few minutes it seemed as if it were putting distance between the two crafts. But the space gradually diminished. Joe turned on the radio.
“Aunt Gertrude, we think we’re being followed by another boat. It’s overtaking us. I’m going to hide the radio until we find out what’s going on. Let you know later what happens.”
He had barely collapsed the aerial and secreted the radio when the prow of a powerful speedboat pulled alongside them. Two men were in it.
“Stop!” one of them shouted.
Frank tried to get a good look at the strangers, but both of them wore hats pulled down low and collars turned up.
One of the men grabbed the side of the Sleuth and beamed a flashlight on the name plate. “Turn around and go back!” he commanded sharply.
“What for?” Joe said cheerfully. “Can’t a couple of fellows have some fun?”
“You guys can have some fun ashore,” the man sneered. “Do what I tell you, or else!”
“We’re just out for a spin,” Frank said as lightheartedly as he could under the conditions. “But we don’t like being ordered to go home. Who are you, anyway?”
“It’s not for kids to ask questions,” said the man, vaulting into the Sleuth.
He was several inches over six feet and as burly as a bear. Menacingly he approached Joe.
“Are you going to scram?”
“No.”
The man lunged at Joe, who tried to grapple with him. Frank sprang to his brother’s defense, but before he could clamp a hold on the stranger, the assailant had pitched Joe far over the side of the boat. After a brief struggle Frank followed. The Hardys bobbed to the surface several feet from the boats.
Frank hissed into Joe’s ear, “Pretend we can’t swim.”
The boys thrashed about madly, crying for help.
As the big man leaped back into his own boat, Joe heard him laugh and shout to his companion:
“That sure was easy. Let’s go and report to the boss.”
“Shall we take their boat in tow?” asked the other.
“The tide’ll take care of that, pal,” the big man shouted. “We’ve done what we were ordered to do. Let’s scram!”
Frank and Joe forced themselves beneath the surface of the water several times, giving a genuine appearance of drowning. When the men saw this, they gave satisfied grunts and sped off.
By this time the lights of the bobbing Sleuth were farther away.
“We’ll really have to swim for it,” Frank said.
With steady, powerful strokes, the Hardys made for their drifting boat. They reached it together and hauled themselves over the side. Tumbling into the bottom, they lay still for a moment to catch their breath.
“We’d better turn off our lights,” Frank said, Teaching for the switch.
After everything had been quiet for several minutes, Joe reached for the radio and turned on the sender. In a hoarse whisper he said, “Aunt Gertrude, are you still there?”
“Yes,” came the answer. “Frank! Joe! Are you all right?”
When her nephew reported what had happened, Miss Hardy gasped.
“I knew something would happen. I was just about to send the police launch. Did those pirates leave?”
“Yes. We fooled ’em. As soon as we’re sure they can’t hear our engine, we’re going farther out,” Joe said, and switched off the set.
A few minutes later Frank started the motor and guided the Sleuth into deeper water. Not a ship was in sight, but a few minutes later they could just make out twinkling lights in the distance.
Joe pulled out the binoculars he had brought along. “It looks like the yacht we saw the night of the storm,” he reported. “Listen!”
A siren was wailing! Its hollow, mournful sound crescendoed and wailed across the ocean.
Just as suddenly came the roar of a helicopter. Frank and Joe glanced at the Sleuth’s clock. It was eleven-fifteen.
As the boys listened, the sound of the helicopter grew louder. The Hardys peered into the sky but could not see anything. Apparently the craft was traveling without lights.
“The same setup as the other night!” Frank cried excitedly.
“I see it!” Joe shouted.
The rotor blades twirled lazily as the craft came lower and lower.
“We’d better scram!” Joe cried out.
Frank was about to turn the Sleuth when the siren wailed again. To the boys’ relief the helicopter moved off.
“I’ll bet that was a signal,” Frank said. “Do you suppose that ship ... ?”
His question went unfinished as a flash of light came from the direction of the yacht. Then darkness again.
The helicopter was edging off in the direction of the ship. “That must have been a signal flare!”
“Let’s go closer. I’ll tell Aunt Gertrude what’s going on,” Joe said.
By mistake he clicked the receiving switch. Suddenly Miss Hardy’s voice crackled over the radio.
Joe switched to the sender. “Yes, we’re here. Something’s doing.”
“Well, leave it and come home. Your father is back in town and wants you.”
“We can’t come now.”
“There’s been a burglary at a factory. Part of the money stolen from Chet was found there.”
“Switch that off!” Frank commanded as he cut the Sleuth’s motor.
He had observed a launch speeding toward them from the direction of the yacht.
“If it’s those same men, we’re sunk this time,” Joe said, hiding the radio once again.
The boys counted on the darkness to conceal the Sleuth. There was a bright light on the yacht now. The helicopter was directly over it. A wire ladder dangled from the chopper. A man was descending it.
“Great crow!” Joe exclaimed. “I’ll bet the wallet we found was dropped from that helicopter!”
“Get down!” Frank warned as Joe craned his neck to see better.
He ducked to the floor of the Sleuth just as the launch’s searchlight swept across it. Before it swung back, the Hardys had covered themselves with tarpaulin to avoid detection. The light was trained steadily on the Sleuth as the other boat rushed toward it.
There came the sound of a loud splash. It was followed by a string of oaths from the boat, which was now almost beside the Sleuth,
A muffled voice from the boat gave them a clue. “There goes five thousand dollars. The boss’ll pin somebody’s ears back for this.”
“For ten grand I wouldn’t be in that guy’s shoes,” came a gruff reply. “Bad enough to lose that wallet. Well, let’s take a look at that boat.”
Through a crack in the tarpaulin Joe could see that the rays of the launch’s searchlight were probing every corner of the Sleuth for signs of life.
“Just a driftin’ boat. Prob’ly the one those kids had who got drowned. Yep, this is it—the Sleuth.”
At that moment a wailing sound filled the air.
“There’s the siren,” the gruff voice said. “We ain’t got much time.”
“I’m goin’ to hop in and take a look, anyhow,” the persistent fellow replied. “I might find some-thin’ worth takin’.”
“I ain’t so sure. Last time we hit port, Renny—”
“Shut up! I’m goin’ to take a look.”
The Hardys felt the Sleuth lurch as one of the men leaped over the side.
The boys held their breath, fearful that even the pounding of their hearts might be heard.
“Hey! I found a radio—one of them two-way jobs,” the man said. “I’ll see if it works.”
He clicked it on. The next instant a woman’s voice cried out clearly:
“This is Aunt Gertrude. Frank and Joe Hardy, why don’t you answer me? Do you need any help?”
The man shut the set off and gave a low laugh. “Well, Mr. Hardy, tell Aunt Gertrude for me they’ve gone to Davy Jones’s locker.”
There was a loud, coarse guffaw. “Bring that radio! Maybe we’ll hear something from the big dick himself. He’s getting too hot.”
The man handed the radio across the water. The Sleuth swayed as he took a long step back ward. His foot planted itself squarely upon Frank’s back!.
CHAPTER XVIII
Caught!
INSTINCTIVELY Frank let out a stifled gasp as the intruder’s heel dug into his ribs.
The tarpaulin covering was ripped off. A hairy sailor towered over him.
“Ha!” the man shouted in anger. “One of the Hardy boys! Jeff was wrong. You didn’t drown!”
He reached down, grasped Frank’s shirt front, and pulled the boy to his feet.
“I’ll knock you cold before I toss you over. Then you won’t never come back to life!” he threatened.
Frank watched. As the big fellow cocked his arm, the youth caught a glimpse of Joe peeling off the canvas covering and rising behind the burly thug.
The man in the launch saw the move, too. “There’s another kid!” he shouted.
His warning came too late. Before the hamlike fist could start its forward journey, Frank, with the agility of a tiger, delivered a shove to his assailant’s mid-section. As the man teetered, Joe flung a crushing body block against the back of his legs.
The sailor keeled over like a falling tree, his head cracking against the gunwale. He rolled over on his face, moaned, and lay still on the bottom of the Sleuth.
So swiftly had the blow been struck that the man in the launch stared, speechless. He reached toward the dashboard and pressed a button. Then, letting out a shrill yell, he made a flying leap for the Hardys. He landed in the Sleuth simultaneously with a rumbling noise that quickly rose to a wail.
“He’s set off a siren!” Joe cried out.
Frank plunged into the fellow, knocking him on top of his henchman. Joe flung himself into the melee, and together the boys pinned him down.
Above the din they heard another siren. “The yacht’s answering!” Frank cried.
The prisoner beneath the boys snarled and puffed.
“Save your strength,” Frank retorted. “You’ll need it for the swim back.”
“Let’s tie him up and take him with us,” Joe suggested. “That’ll make two prisoners who may be able to help us solve the riddle of the wailing siren.”
“No.” Frank said. “Carrying both of them will make too much weight for the Sleuth. We’re going to have to run for it and we’ll need every bit of speed. I think our one prisoner will tell plenty.”
From across the water a speedboat churned rapidly in their direction.
“Here you go, sailor!” Frank said.
The boys lifted the struggling man over the side of the Sleuth. He hit the water with a flat splash. Spluttering, he started swimming toward the launch, which had drifted some yards away.
Instantly Joe took the wheel and started the Sleuth’s engine. As it leaped into action, Frank yanked a life jacket from a locker. Bending over their prisoner, he thrust the man’s limp arms into it and buckled the straps.
“What are you doing?” Joe shouted.
“This fellow may have to be our secret weapon,” Frank replied.
“How?”
Before Frank could explain, the searchlight from the launch suddenly started to move across the water. The sailor had reached his own boat, climbed in, and was after them!
“Great crow!” Joe exclaimed. “We can’t make it, Frank, with two boats after us!”
“Don’t be too sure.”
Frank kept a wary eye on the unconscious man beside him, at the same time listening to the racing motor of the Sleuth. His insistence upon perfection in its engine was paying dividends. Joe made a beeline for the inlet. Although they were outdistancing the launch, the speedboat was creeping up. Suddenly there was a shot.
“They’re firing on us!” Joe shouted.
Their prisoner began to revive. He twisted from side to side, mumbling. Frank could catch nothing intelligible. It sounded like crack—gun —crack.
Frank watched the man carefully to remain master of the situation. He felt in the captive’s pockets for weapons, or something that might identify him with the gang of smugglers or kidnappers. He found nothing.
“If the guy in the speedboat gets too close, I’m going to turn around and ram him!” Joe cried.
“You won’t have to.”
“How the dickens are we going to beat him? Look at him gain on us!”
“There’s your answer!” Frank pointed to their prisoner. As the speedboat raced to head off the Sleuth before she could make the narrow inlet, he shouted, “Now’s the time!”
He helped the life-jacketed. man to his feet. “You okay?” he asked.
“Sure. Why—?” The sailor suddenly realized what was about to happen. His fist shot out.
But Frank was ready for him. He dodged, caught the sailor off balance, and pushed him into the sea.
“Now’s our chance!” he shouted
. “Run for it, Joe!”
Over the roar of the motor the boys heard a shout. Immediately the speedboat throttled down and came alongside the swimming sailor. At the same moment, the launch made a quick turn and barely avoided running down the man in the water. The boys could hear the engine going into reverse.
Joe urged the Sleuth to its top speed and grinned at his brother. “Your secret weapon worked swell!”
But the man in the launch did not give up the chase. After standing by to see that the sailor was picked up, he renewed the pursuit. The gun went into action again, and the boys crouched low. Bullet after bullet sang over their heads or spat into the waves. Joe was zigzagging the Sleuth’s course.
“He’s really pouring it on,” Joe said grimly.
“Gosh, if we only had our radio, Joe, we could have told Aunt Gertrude to notify the Coast Guard.”
Again the launch was gaining on them. The speedboat had turned back toward the dim hulk of the yacht.
“If we can only make the bay,” Frank thought, “I know of plenty of places to hide where the water’s shallow and that launch can’t follow us.”
“Here—we—are!” Joe shouted.
He applied a stiff left rudder. The Sleuth took the turn like a champion and sped through the mouth of Barmet Bay.
A snug cove lay a quarter of a mile ahead. The racing Sleuth reached it and turned in. There was no sign of the pursuing launch.
“We lost them!” Joe cried in relief. “I thought they had us! Too bad about our prisoner. He might have told us plenty.”
“He didn’t have a thing in his pockets,” said Frank. “And besides, he probably wouldn’t have talked. We’d better phone the Coast Guard pronto.”
Joe docked at an all-night waterfront restaurant in the inlet. Frank jumped out and rushed for a pay phone. When he had finished his detailed report, the lieutenant said, “We’ll dispatch a boat at once to look for the speedboat and the launch. And I’ll notify our stations along the coast to go after that yacht and also check on the helicopter. I’ll get in touch with Police Chief Collig too.”
A few minutes later Joe guided the Sleuth to their boathouse. When the brothers arrived home, the Hardy house was brightly lighted and alive with excitement.
The Wailing Siren Mystery Page 9
