The Twisted Claw (9 page)

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Authors: Franklin W. Dixon

BOOK: The Twisted Claw
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“How did you learn that?” Joe asked.
“I've been interested in crime stories and the work of famous detectives for years,” Ellis explained. “Photographs of you and your father have appeared in many publications I've read. I recognized you the minute you boarded the ship.”
“Why are you trying to warn us?” Frank questioned impatiently.
“You fellows are here to investigate the Yellow
Parrot,
I'm sure,” the operator went on. “But believe me, you've walked into a lion's den. I don't want anything to happen to you.”
“We appreciate your concern for our safety,” Joe put in sarcastically. “What's your game? Why haven't you reported us to the captain?”
“I—I can't give you my reasons,” Ellis said apprehensively.
“Are there any other crew members here who know who we are?” Frank asked.
‘I'm sure I'm the only one. But don't worry. Your secret is safe with me.”
“Thanks,” Frank said. “Isn't there any more you can tell us about yourself, or the
Yellow Parrot?”
An expression of fear spread across Ellis's face. “I've nothing to say,” he insisted. “Anyway, you don't realize what you're getting into. Take my advice and get off this ship just as soon as you can. I'll help you.”
“You seem anxious to get rid of us!” Joe stated.
At that instant a sailor entered the room and handed a folded sheet of paper to Ellis. “The cap'n wants you to send this out right away,” he announced.
As he hurried off, the operator read the message. Then he walked over to the radio and flicked a switch.
“I'd better start warming up the transmitter,” he said. “This message looks important.”
“What does it say?” Joe asked quickly.
Ellis gazed at the boys for a moment. Then he handed them the sheet of paper. “You realize that I'm not supposed to do that,” he said quietly. “But I trust you.”
Frank took the message while Joe looked over his shoulder. After he had finished reading it, he said gravely, “Oh, oh. This could mean real trouble.”
Ellis stared at him in surprise. “What's wrong?” he inquired. “It only says that I'm to contact the captain of the Black Parrot and arrange for a rendezvous with the ship tomorrow off Tambio Island.”
“That's just it,” Frank muttered.
CHAPTER XII
Swim to Freedom
Nor without some misgivings on Frank's part, the Hardys took Ellis into their confidence, telling him briefly about their adventure aboard the
Black Parrot.
The radioman was amazed. “This
does
mean trouble. We're bound to be visited by some of the
Black Parrot's
crew.”
“Maybe we can hide somewhere during the rendezvous,” Joe suggested.
“That won't work,” Ellis warned. “Any time we put into a port, or get close to a landfall, the captain double-checks to make sure all crew members are accounted for. You'd be missed immediately.”
Frank began to pace the floor. “We've got to think of something. There must be a way out of this.”
“You'd better go back to your quarters,” the operator urged. “Meanwhile, I'll get this message off to the
Black Parrot.
Meet me in an hour on the main deck, amidships on the portside. I should have more information by then.”
The boys left and made their way forward.
“What do you make of Ellis?” Frank asked.
“First impressions can be misleading,” admitted Joe, “but I like the fellow and feel we can trust him. Anyhow, we haven't much choice.”
“I agree. But if he is on our side, why doesn't he tell us more about himself?”
“He is frightened of something. I think he's being forced to sail aboard this ship.”
Time passed slowly for the Hardys. Finally an hour went by, and they headed amidships for their meeting with the radioman. He was already waiting when they arrived.
“The situation is worse than I thought,” Ellis announced in a low voice. “The
Parrots
are going to exchange a few crew members.”
“Good grief!” Joe exclaimed. “We're bound to be recognized.”
“Your only chance is to get off this ship at Tambio Island.”
“And be marooned?” Frank protested.
“You won't be,” Ellis assured them. “I hear there's a hermit, or some kind of nutty guy living on the far side of the island. He's said to be friendly. I'm sure you could stay with him until you flag down a ship.”
“That would be taking a long chance,” Frank said.
“Your chances are nil if you don't get off this ship,” the radioman warned.
“When does the meeting take place?” Frank inquired.
“Tomorrow night.”
“Oh, oh.” Joe sighed, eyeing his brother. “Something tells me we're in for a swim.”
“I don't see any other way out,” Frank admitted.
“Good,” Ellis put in. “I'll meet you fellows here tomorrow night and help you get away. Make it about ten o'clock. That's when we're scheduled to arrive.”
The Hardys were kept busy all the following day, and it was well after dark before they were released from duty.
Ding! Ding!
came a tinkling.
“Two bells,” Joe said. “It's nine o'clock.
“Only an hour to go,” remarked Frank. “Let's try to get a few minutes' rest before we meet Ellis.”
The boys were walking to their quarters when the first mate shouted to them. “Hey! You kids! Come here!”
“I wonder what he wants,” Joe whispered apprehensively as they obeyed Rawlin's command.
“You two are spending the night in the brig,” Rawlin growled.
“Why?” Joe demanded angrily. “What've we done?”
“Shut up!” He summoned four members of the crew. “Take them to the lockup.”
The men escorted the Hardys below, secured them in the brig, and hurried off.
“Now we
are
in a spot!” declared Joe. “Do you think Rawlin found out about our plan?”
“I doubt it. He's probably being cautious. He's not sure we can be trusted not to jump ship.”
A few minutes later a faint shuffling sounded outside the brig. Frank and Joe made out the vague figure of a man approaching.
“Frank! Joe!” Clay Ellis whispered.
The boys sighed in relief.
“I saw what happened,” Ellis went on. He produced a small crowbar. “I'll have you out in a jiffy.”
The radioman pried away at the door, and it finally sprang open.
“Follow me,” Ellis ordered. “The meeting is working out slightly ahead of schedule. We're about a quarter of a mile off Tambio Island.”
“Clay—thanks a lot,” Frank murmured.
“Any time.”
Ellis led the Hardys up on deck and to their previous meeting point amidships. At that instant the
Yellow Parrot's
engines stopped.
A shout came from the bridge. “Let go the anchor!”
There was a clatter of heavy chains, followed by a loud splash as the anchor plunged into the water.
“You'll have to swim for it,” Ellis said. “The shore isn't far off. Think you can make it?”
“Easily,” Joe said.
Ellis pointed to a coil of rope he had stowed near the rail. “It will be better if you lower yourselves into the water. If you dive overboard, the crew might hear you.”
Frank nodded. “We appreciate all you're doing for us and won't forget it. But I think you're in some kind of trouble.”
“You don't seem to belong aboard this ship any more than we do,” Joe put in. “Why don't you come with us?”
“I—I can't,” the radioman stammered.
Frank pulled a pencil from his pocket and scribbled something on a scrap of paper. He handed it to Ellis. “We have a radio setup in Bayport. Can you transmit on this short-wave frequency?”
“Yes,” Ellis replied. “Why?”
“We'll listen in every evening from seven to midnight,” Frank told him. “If you should need help or want to give us any information about the activity of the
Parrots,
will you promise to contact us?”
Ellis hesitated for a moment. “I—I promise,” he muttered finally.
The Hardys removed their shoes, tied the laces together, and hung them around their necks. Then they knotted one end of the rope around the railing and fed the balance over the side.
“Good luck!” Ellis said in a hushed voice as Frank and Joe quietly lowered themselves into the water.
They waved in response, then began swimming toward the island. In less than half an hour they were trudging up onto a sandy beach.
“Well, we made it,” Joe said triumphantly.
Frank gazed silently at his surroundings. The island was covered with trees and thick brush. Finding a couple of fallen branches, he handed Joe one of them. “We'd better start erasing our tracks. Otherwise they'll stand out like road signs when daylight comes.”
When the job was finished, the boys walked into the brush and found a clear spot where they could rest. It was not long before they were sound asleep.
Morning was ushered in by a bright, hot sun. The boys woke up to the sound of chirping birds and the rustling of palm trees stirred by an offshore breeze.
Then they became aware of another sound. Men's voices I
“Hear that?” Joe whispered excitedly.
Frank nodded. Stealthily they crawled toward the edge of the brush. On the shore they spotted a dinghy. Several men were scattered along the beach nearby.
“I don't see any sign of 'em!” one of them said to his companions. “No tracks, either. I doubt that they came ashore. They're probably hidin' on the
Parrot
somewhere.”
“Yeah!” said another. “Rawlin worries too much. So the kids escaped from the brig. Who cares? And even if they did make it here to the island, what's the difference? They can't cause us any trouble.”
“I'm hungry!” exclaimed another man. “We had to miss breakfast because of those brats. Let's go back and get some chow.”
The crewmen piled into the dinghy and began rowing toward the
Yellow Parrot.
Frank and Joe looked out to see its sister ship the
Black Parrot
anchored a short distance away.
“Those guys must've been looking for us while we were still asleep,” Joe said.
“Lucky you don't snore,” Frank quipped.
Eager to locate the hermit, they immediately started trekking easterly across the island.
“Shouldn't take us too long,” Joe stated. “Tambio doesn't seem to be very big.”
But the thick brush made the going extremely rough. More than three hours passed before they came to the opposite shore. Barely five hundred yards away stood a crude hut, set well back from the high-water mark.
It looked no larger than four by four feet and its door was of sturdy oak.
“What do you think of that?” Joe asked as they came closer.
“It's strange, all right,” Frank admitted.
“Should we call out?”
“No, we'd better not. If we startle the guy, he might react violently, especially if he's some kind of unstable recluse.”
Frank and Joe walked cautiously around the hut. To their surprise, it had no windows.
“There's no sign of a human being here anywhere,” Frank remarked.
“Maybe our hermit left a long time ago.”
Frank stopped short in his tracks. “Look, Joe, footprints,” he said, pointing to the sandy soil partly covered with tufts of coarse grass.
Joe bent over. “They're headed toward the beach. Maybe the fellow's out nshing!”
Frank grinned. “In that case, perhaps we could peek inside.” He took hold of the door handle and pulled. It did not budge.
“Here, Joe, give me a hand!”
Joe grabbed the handle, too, and they both tugged. With a creaking noise, the door came open. It took a few seconds for the boys' eyes to adjust to the dim interior. There was nothing but a flight of steep stairs leading into the ground.
“Hey! What's this?” Joe asked.
“Come on. We'll find out.”
With Frank in the lead, they carefully descended ten stairs until they came to another door.
Frank knocked gingerly. No one replied.
“Let's go in,” Joe whispered.
Frank nodded and opened the door. At the same instant, lights went on in a large room. The boys gasped!
CHAPTER XIII
Trouble on Tambio
ON the far side of the room sat a man in a huge high-backed chair. He did not move, did not even bat an eyelash.
“Hello!” Joe blurted
out
There was no reply.
Joe looked at Frank. “Is he for real?”
Frank shrugged, and they walked closer.
There was a frozen grin on the man's ebony face and he did not seem to breathe at all. He was attired in a red-and-white-checkered sport shirt, ragged slacks cut off at the knees, and white tennis shoes.
“Wow!” Frank whispered. “He must be right out of Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum!” He stepped forward and touched the man's face. The next moment he yelled, “Joe! He's alivel”
“Of course,” said the man. “What made you think I was not?” The grin disappeared from his face and suddenly he looked menacing.
Despite their usual coolness and presence of mind, the Hardys shrank back before the recluse.
“Please do not break into my home again,” he said.

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