“Which we hope to hold until Dad returns,” Joe added.
Chet whistled. “Well, count me out of any more trouble,” he said. “I’m off for home. Let me know what that foreign parchment says, will you?”
After Chet had chugged off in his jalopy, Frank suggested that they call on Miss Kelly to see if she could translate the message found in the cutlass.
“Let’s stop at police headquarters on the way,” Joe said. “We’ll check Bowden’s story about Gorman’s arrest.”
With the parchment tucked securely in Frank’s inner pocket, they drove to headquarters. There the sergeant in charge promised to check with St. Louis about the alleged arrest. Before leaving, Frank asked if the man named Guinness who had exploded the fireworks had been caught. The officer shook his head.
“Please let us know what you find out about Gorman,” Joe said as they walked out.
Frank drove across Bayport to the small cottage where Miss Kelly lived. She was a pleasant middle-aged woman, well liked by her students.
“We wondered if you could help us solve a mystery,” Joe said as they all sat down in her cool, attractive living room.
“By the expressions on your faces I thought you must be working on one,” Miss Kelly said,
Frank produced the parchment. “Is this Spanish, and can you translate it?”
The teacher studied the scrawled writing for a moment. “No,” she said. “This is written in Portuguese, old-fashioned Portuguese at that. But I believe Mrs. Vasquez might be able to help you.”
Handing back the paper, she explained that Mrs. Vasquez was an elderly Portuguese woman, the mother of a fishing boat captain.
“She isn’t well and doesn’t get up until afternoon,” Miss Kelly said, “but I’m sure if you go see her after lunch, she would help you. I’ll give you her address.”
She looked in the telephone directory and wrote it down. The boys thanked her and left.
“If we can’t get the message translated until after lunch,” Joe said, “let’s go out to Pirates’ Hill and call on Sergeant Tilton. Maybe he can give us some idea of where to dig.”
“Okay,” Frank agreed. “We haven’t had any luck ourselves.”
“This here’s a gunner’s scraper,” Tilton replied
They drove to Tilton’s cottage. The sergeant, dressed in dungarees and a coonskin cap, was working in his small flower garden.
He was in high spirits. “Hi there, boys!” he yelled.
“Good morning, Sergeant Tilton,” Frank replied. “We’ve come to do some more digging for that cannon.”
“We thought maybe you could show us where you think it should be,” Joe added.
“Well, now, let me see,” the man drawled as he came toward them. “Suppose I walk around the place with you.” He grabbed up a folding canvas chair.
When they had gone about fifty yards along the dunes, he stopped and scratched his head. “Accordin’ to my system of reckonin’, the gun must have been located just about—No.” He moved a few steps to his left. “Just about here.”
Sergeant Tilton lighted an old pipe and seated himself comfortably on his folding chair, and the boys started digging. He told them story after story of his Army adventures while they spaded deep through the white sand.
“Hold everything!” Joe called some time later. He was standing waist-deep in a hole. “I’ve found something!”
He bent over and came up with a queer-looking gadget. “What would this be?” he asked, handing it to the sergeant.
Tilton examined it carefully. “This here’s a gunner’s scraper,” he replied.
“Probably belonged to the same gear as that pick Chet found the other day,” Frank whispered to Joe.
Protected by the sand, the scraper had withstood the ravages of time better than the pick had.
“The cannon’s just got to be near here!” Joe declared excitedly.
“That’s right, my boy.” Tilton wore a knowing look as he gave the scraper back to Joe and resumed puffing on his pipe. “Don’t stop diggin’, lads.” He blew out a small cloud of smoke.
Ten minutes later Frank spaded loose a six-foot-long wooden pole fixed at one end with an iron blade. As he handed it to Tilton, the old sergeant exclaimed, “It’s a handspike! You must be gettin’ close!”
CHAPTER XVIII
Guarding a Discovery
THOUGH eager to continue the search, Frank and Joe paused a moment.
“What was that strange-looking pole used for?” Frank asked Sergeant Tilton.
“To manhandle the heavy cannon,” he replied. “With this tool, the gunners could move the carriage, or lift the breech of the gun, so they could adjust the elevatin’ screw.”
Jubilantly expectant, the Hardys dug deeper into the sand. But nothing further came to light.
Finally Frank straightened up. “Joe,” he said, “it’s noon. We’d better let our search go for now. You know we have an errand in town.”
Joe had almost forgotten their plan to call on Mrs. Vasquez and have the parchment translated. “You’re right, Frank.” He asked Sergeant Tilton to keep the spike and pole until the boys called for them. Then they quickly covered the hole with branches and sand, took their tools, and started back.
After stopping for a quick lunch, the Hardys drove directly to Mrs. Vasquez’s home. Her daughter-in-law answered their knock, and when Frank explained the boys’ mission, they were ushered inside.
A white-haired old lady with black eyes stared curiously at them from a rocking chair. She smiled, adjusted her black shawl, and motioned for them to be seated.
“Mother doesn’t speak much English,” the daughter-in-law said, “but I’ll translate.”
The Vasquezes spoke rapidly in Portuguese, then the old lady leaned back in her rocking chair and read the parchment. When she looked up, more words in Portuguese followed.
“Mama says this message gives directions.”
“For what?” Frank’s heart pounded.
Again there was a rapid exchange, then the younger woman smiled. “Directions to a cannon. I’ll write it all down.”
As Mrs. Vasquez spoke, her daughter-in-law translated and wrote:
On high rock Alaqua Cove due east setting sun first day July is treasure cannon. Demiculverin.
The younger woman smiled. “Does this mean anything to you? Where is Alaqua Cove?”
“That was an old Indian name for Bayport, I-think,” Frank replied. “Thanks a million. And, please, will you keep this a secret?”
“Oh, yes. Mama and I will say nothing. I’m glad we could help you.”
Frank and Joe said good-by and left the house. They were grinning ecstatically.
“At last we’re going to solve this mystery!” Joe said.
“And the time of year is perfect,” Frank added. “We’re only about a week over the designated date. That shouldn’t give us much trouble.”
On reaching Pirates’ Hill with their digging tools, Joe became restless, “I hate to wait until sunset. Can’t we start?”
“Sure. We’ve been here so much the past few days I can tell you exactly where the sun has been setting.”
Frank pointed to a distant church spire. “Right there.” He took a compass from his pocket and moved about until his back was due east of the spire. “The cannon should be somewhere along this line,” he said and shuffled through the sand.
“The directions said ‘high rock,’ ” Joe re minded him. “There are rocks under the sand. Let’s try the highest point on this line.”
The boys set to work. All afternoon they dug furiously. Finally, as the sun was about to set, Frank’s spade struck metal!
“Joe,” he cried, “this must be it!”
A moment later they uncovered the curve of a barrel, and judging from its dimensions, they were convinced that this was the Spanish demiculverin for which they had been searching.
“Success!” Frank exclaimed.
Then suddenly he sobered. “We’d better be careful
,” he said. “Somebody might be spying on us.”
“You’re right,” Joe agreed. “Let’s cover up the gun again. It’s getting dark and we won’t be able to dig the whole thing up tonight.”
Shoveling quickly they concealed the valuable discovery until they could come back the next day and uncover it completely. Then, to bewilder any prying eyes, the Hardys decided to make small excavations at other spots.
A short time later two figures appeared over the dunes. Tony Prito and Chet!
“We came out in the Napoli,” Tony said, “Figured you’d be here. We called your house and your mother gave us a message for you.”
“About Gorman,” Chet added. “The police left word that he’s not in St. Louis.”
“Just as we suspected,” Joe said.
Then Frank, in a low voice, told about finding the demiculverin. “Wow!” Chet exploded.
Tony congratulated his friends and asked what their next move would be.
“We’ll dig up the whole cannon tomorrow,” Frank replied.
“I sure wish we could stay here tonight and get an early start,” Joe said. “Say, why don’t we camp out and stand guard over the cannon?”
“Swell idea,” Frank agreed.
Tony offered to go back in the Hardys’ car and pick up a tent, sleeping bags, and food.
“I’ll call your folks and tell them,” he promised.
Two hours later the camp on Pirates’ Hill was ready, with the tent pitched on the cannon site. As the stars came out, the Hardys and Chet crawled into their shelter. Tony had volunteered to stand guard first and posted himself outside the tent flap.
At eleven o’clock he became aware of an approaching figure. Instantly he awoke his sleeping pals. They waited tensely until the person was almost within reach.
“Get him!” Joe cried suddenly.
The campers lunged out of the shelter. Just as Joe was about to tackle the figure, he recognized him.
“Sergeant Tilton!” he exclaimed.
“So it’s you,” drawled the elderly man. He explained that he had spotted their flashlights and had come to see who his neighbors were.
Knowing that the sergeant was inclined to gossip, the boys decided to keep their finding of the cannon to themselves. They chatted casually with Tilton, telling him they had set up camp to be ready for some sleuthing early in the morning.
“Well,” the sergeant said finally, “I reckon I’d better git back to my shack. I suspect you’ll all be snorin’ soon.” He chuckled and walked off.
The rest of the night passed quietly, with the boys rotating the guard watches as they had planned earlier. By six o’clock they were up and preparing breakfast. After eating, the Hardys and Tony started work under the tent, with Chet acting as lookout.
Within an hour the three had dug a deep pit and uncovered the entire demiculverin. The old fieldpiece appeared to be in good condition.
“What a beauty!” Frank exclaimed.
“And look at this number on it!” Joe cried out. Engraved on the barrel were the numerals 8-4-20. “It must be a code for this type. Let’s find out what it stands for.”
Leaving Chet and Tony on guard, the Hardys went home in the convertible to check through their father’s books on cannons. Joe’s hunch that the numerals might be a code led to nothing. They read on.
Suddenly Frank exclaimed, “I get it! An eight-pound ball and four pounds of powder.”
“And twenty degrees of elevation!” Joe beamed.
Hearing the excited conversation of the boys, Mrs. Hardy looked into the room and asked, “Have you found out something interesting?”
“Sunken treasure!” Joe exulted. “A ball shot from the demiculverin probably marks the spot where the old merchantman was sunk by the pirates in that Battle of Bayport!”
Mrs. Hardy was astounded. She started to praise her sons when the front doorbell rang. Frank hurried down to answer it, Opening the door, he blinked in amazement.
Bowden!
As Frank recovered from his surprise, he said, “Come in,” and called loudly over his shoulder, “Joe! Mr. Bowden’s here!”
Joe came down the stairs like a streak of lightning. “What’s up now?” he wondered.
Bowden smiled. “Can’t stay but a few minutes. Good news travels fast. I understand you’ve located the cannon I asked you to find!”
The Hardys were dumbfounded.
“I’ll have the money for you shortly for solving my case,” Bowden continued. “And I’ll send a truck out to Pirates’ Hill tomorrow to pick up the demiculverin.”
CHAPTER XIX
Human Targets
FRANK and Joe were speechless for a moment. Then Frank asked, “How did you hear we found a cannon?”
The man’s reply proved to be another bombshell. “I was out there and your friends told me.”
Frank’s mind whirled. He looked at Joe and realized his brother was thinking the same thing. Whatever Bowden’s real reason was for wanting the ancient cannon, they were going to keep it from him until further word arrived from their father or the police.
Bowden again seemed to be one step ahead of them. “You don’t know it yet, but I own Pirates’ Hill.”
“What?” Frank asked, thunderstruck.
Bowden pulled several documents from his pocket. One was a certificate of sale, another a government release, and the third a letter with a notary-public seal. This stated that Bowden had a right to anything found on Pirates’ Hill.
“They certainly look authentic,” Frank said, but realized the papers could be clever forgeries.
Mr. Hardy’s warning to his sons indicated that Bowden was probably a confidence man. It was possible that he had accomplices who could imitate signatures and print fake documents.
“I must get in touch with Dad about this,” Frank said to himself.
He and Joe knew that the only course was not to let Bowden know of their suspicions. But Joe winced as his brother spoke.
“It looks as if the hill is yours all right, Mr. Bowden. If there’s a cannon on it, there may be other treasures, too.”
Frank’s assurance pleased Bowden. “I hope you’re right. And I’m glad you see the whole thing my way. To tell the truth, I thought you might want the old cannon yourselves. Accept my congratulations for a grand job.”
After he left, Frank said, “I’ll bet those papers Bowden showed us are fake!”
Joe nodded. “We’d better let Dad know about this right away.”
Since it was not possible to reach Mr. Hardy by telephone, they composed a telegram in code, mentioning the fact that the cannon had been found and Bowden was claiming it. Frank phoned the message to the telegraph office.
“I hope this information will bring Dad up here,” Joe said. “Bowden is crooked, Frank. We can’t just hand him the cannon.”
“Of course not. But don’t forget, Joe, digging out the sand around the demiculverin so it can be lifted, and lugging the two tons of iron over the sand may take days. Maybe something will happen in the meantime to stop Bowden.”
“Let’s hope so,” said Joe. “Well, how about doing some computing on those numbers we found on the cannon?”
“Good thought.” The boys quickly discovered, however, that they were unable to solve the gunnery problem. Frank suggested that they drive over to see Mr. Rowe, head of the Mathematics Department at Bayport High. “He’s teaching summer school. I’m sure he’ll be there now.”
They set off for Bayport High and found Mr. Rowe. Intrigued by the problem, he went to work, filling several sheets of paper with calculations. At last he said:
“The cannon ball would land two thousand yards away, if trained and elevated at precisely the angle given in my figures.”
Frank and Joe thanked him, then hurried to their car. On the way back to Pirates’ Hill, Frank remarked that if the demiculverin had not been moved, and currents had not shifted the ship, the treasure should be easy to locate.
Joe grinned. “Let’s measur
e two thousand yards from the cannon, then hand it over to Bowden with our compliments!”
Frank reminded his brother that whatever their plans, they had to work fast. He parked off the shore road as before and the Hardys ran up to Chet and Tony.
Suddenly Joe stopped short. Grabbing Frank by the arm, he cried out, “Look! There’s Bowden again!”
At the site of the cannon, Bowden and Sergeant Tilton were talking to Chet and Tony.
“Good-by to our plan,” Joe said.
“Maybe not,” Frank remarked. “It might take him some time to catch on to the whole thing.”
Chet and Tony dashed up to meet the boys and whispered that after Frank and Joe had gone back to town, they had continued digging. The two men had caught them off guard.
“You can see the cannon very plainly now,” Tony said. “We thought we’d surprise you and remove all the sand from the front of it.”
“Thanks,” Joe said. “It was a nice idea.”
Frank quickly related Bowden’s visit to the house. Tony frowned. “Maybe that gossipy Sergeant Tilton told him we were here.”
As the group reached the men, the Hardys received only a nod from Bowden, but the genial old sergeant began to talk excitedly. He explained that at Bowden’s request he was preparing a charge similar to the one he used to test the mortar in the town square at Bayport.
In spite of Bowden’s efforts to signal him to keep quiet, Tilton continued, “An’ I’m goin’ to test the strength o’ the barrel fer Mr. Bowden. He wants to be sure it’ll be safe fer him to fire off durin’ that there exposition in Florida.”
“Are you sure you aren’t planning to shoot a cannon ball?” Joe asked suspiciously.
The old gunner protested in disgust. “Of course not. That’d be against the law. I’d have to git permission from the Coast Guard.”
“That’s right,” said Joe, eying Bowden to watch his reaction. But the man showed none.
As the boys looked on, Tilton prepared the powder charge and fired the gun. A thunderous boom followed. As the smoke cleared, he rushed back to inspect the cannon.
The Secret of Pirates' Hill Page 10
