Read The Phantom Freighter Online
Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
The Phantom Freighter (5 page)
“There's one in port now,” said Frank. “It's called the
Hawk.
We can't book passage on it, but at least you'll see what a big freighter is like.”
Hawk.
We can't book passage on it, but at least you'll see what a big freighter is like.”
Mr. McClintock climbed into the car. When they reached the waterfront, the
Hawk
was much lower in the water, though not loaded to capacity yet. A large sign said,
Positively No Visitors.
It was easy, however, to study the details of the ship from the dockside.
Hawk
was much lower in the water, though not loaded to capacity yet. A large sign said,
Positively No Visitors.
It was easy, however, to study the details of the ship from the dockside.
Mr. McClintock was pleasantly surprised. “Might be all right to travel on a ship like that,” he agreed. “I'll let you know.”
“Why not come up to our house to dinner tonight?” Joe said. “We'll have more information by then. I left our names at an agency.”
“Never eat much at night,” said Mr. McClintock. “Don't go out to dinner at people's houses because they always expect me to sit around for a couple of hours afterward and it keeps me up long past my bedtime. Now if you want to make that lunchâ”
“Lunch it is.” Frank laughed. “Let me call the house and tell Mother you're coming,”
Mr. McClintock apparently enjoyed himself immensely at the meal. To the amazement of the boys, he and Aunt Gertrude took an immediate liking to each other. They chatted gaily about times past and present, even voicing approval of at least part of the new generation.
“Of course, my two nephews are unusual,” Aunt Gertrude remarked.
“Quite so,” Mr. McClintock agreed.
The two shook hands warmly when their guest departed, and early that evening Mr. McClintock telephoned, to say that he had made up his mind. He wanted to leave on a freighter trip right away. In fact, he had already picked his ship.
“The one we saw at the dock looks all right to me. Book passage on it at once and we'll sail as soon as it's ready.”
Vainly Frank tried to explain that the Hawk's captain had already refused them passage.
“Try them again. Offer double fare. That'll bring him around. I want to go on that boat!”
To please him, Frank telephoned Klack's Agency. Klack himself answered the call.
“No passengers,” he said. “You couldn't go on the Hawk now anyway. She sailed a few minutes ago.”
That, apparently, settled it. But the Hardy boys had not reckoned with a very persistent streak in Mr. McClintock.
“I want to take a trip on that boat and I'm going to,” he announced when Frank reported to him over the telephone.
“But how?” Frank asked. “She's gone!”
“We can find a fast motorboat and catch her,” came the reply. “Don't you know where to get one?”
“We own a motorboat,” Frank said. “It can go a good deal faster than a freighter and we might overtake the
Hawk
all right, butâ”
Hawk
all right, butâ”
“Then what are we waiting for? Throw some clothes in a suitcase. I'll call for you in a taxi in ten minutes.”
“But we'll have to find somebody to bring our boat back,” Frank protested.
“That's your business,” replied their client and hung up.
Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude helped the boys pack, while Joe telephoned to several of their friends. Finally he reached Tony Prito, who was willing to go along and bring back their boat, the
Sleuth,
if the Hardys could get on the
Hawk.
Sleuth,
if the Hardys could get on the
Hawk.
Mr. McClintock was at the Hardy house on time, and ten minutes later the Sleuth was nosing its way out of the boathouse and roaring off into the twilight.
“When this Captain Sharp sees we're determined to go with him, he'll change his mind,” predicted Mr. McClintock.
Even though the
Hawk
had a good start, the Hardys knew that their boat would be able to overtake the freighter. The regular steamer channel was clearly marked by buoys, and as the
Sleuth
ate up the miles Frank and Joe were confident it would be only a matter of minutes before they would see the lights of the big ship ahead.
Hawk
had a good start, the Hardys knew that their boat would be able to overtake the freighter. The regular steamer channel was clearly marked by buoys, and as the
Sleuth
ate up the miles Frank and Joe were confident it would be only a matter of minutes before they would see the lights of the big ship ahead.
But they sped on and on, peering into the gloom.
“Thought you said this boat of yours was a speedy one,” gibed McClintock. “Can't you catch up to a slow steamer?”
“There isn't a faster motorboat on Barmet Bay,” spoke up Tony, quick to defend his friends' craft.
The moon rose, flooding the water with light. They could see to the mouth of the bay. The
Hawk
was not in sight.
Hawk
was not in sight.
“She's faster than I thought,” said Frank. He put his boat to the limit of her power and they came out into the open sea. Nothing but water. No moving lights indicated the presence of any ship.
Frank swung the wheel. The
Sleuth
turned.
Sleuth
turned.
“Giving up?” demanded McClintock.
“Not entirely,” Frank replied. “We'll go back to Bayport and find out the
Hawk's
first port of call. If it's not far away, we can go there by car and board the ship.”
Hawk's
first port of call. If it's not far away, we can go there by car and board the ship.”
McClintock grumbled a little, but he realized that there was no point in continuing the chase by sea. The
Sleuth
roared back to port. There the boys learned by phoning Klack at his home that the
Hawk
was to stop at Southport.
Sleuth
roared back to port. There the boys learned by phoning Klack at his home that the
Hawk
was to stop at Southport.
They took Mr. McClintock to his hotel, then drove home. Before they went to bed, Frank telephoned the harbor master in Southport. The reply to his question left him astonished and bewildered.
“That freighter hasn't docked here,” the harbor master said. “We aren't even expecting her!”
CHAPTER VI
The Morton Special
WHEN Frank and Joe reported to Mr. McClintock the next morning that the
Hawk
had vanished mysteriously, he went into a tirade. But by this time the boys had become used to his outbursts and scarcely heard him.
Hawk
had vanished mysteriously, he went into a tirade. But by this time the boys had become used to his outbursts and scarcely heard him.
Instead, their thoughts turned to the strange happenings in connection with the ship. The threatening seaman, the swinging boom that had knocked Frank into the water, the unpleasant captain, and now a new route for the
Hawk,
evidently determined upon in a hurry.
Hawk,
evidently determined upon in a hurry.
“âso do something. And do it quick!” Mr. McClintock was saying. “I thought you were boys who got things done in a hurry!”
Frank gulped. “Sorry. Well, we'll find another freighter.”
“I'll go and ask at Klackâs,” Joe offered. He hastened to the agency's office and told the man behind the counter about being on a waiting list for freighter passage for three. “What are the chances of getting passage?” Joe asked.
“Practically none at all.”
“What do you mean?”
“Not many ships take passengers, and most of âem are booked up.”
“When can I see Mr. Klack?”
“I'm Mr. Klack.”
“Oh,” said Joe. “Thanks for the information last night.”
“Glad to help you.”
“Well, you have our phone number,” Joe went on. “Please let us know when you get reservations. The sooner the better.”
He returned to the hotel and reported the situation to Mr. McClintock and Frank. As usual, McClintock fussed like a baby without a pacifier until Joe motioned his brother aside.
“Frank, I don't like that man Klack. I have a feeling he wouldn't give us reservations if he had any.”
“But why?”
Joe shrugged. “I'm going to make an investigation of my own. Stay here a few minutes to soothe our client. I'll meet you at home.”
Joe headed directly for the docks. A freighter which had come in at seven oâclock, he learned, usually carried six passengers. Hurrying to the captain, he asked if the Hardy party might take the outgoing trip.
“Sorry, son”âsmiled the pleasant manâ“but all space was reserved less than an hour ago.” As Joe groaned, the captain continued, “The Klack Agency sold it. They're right on the ball.”
Fire in his eyes, Joe hurried back to Klack's. Only the girl clerk was there. The boy demanded to know why passage had not been given to him.
“I get my orders from Mr. Klack, not you,” she replied sourly, and began to pound a typewriter.
Angry and mystified, Joe returned home. When Frank heard the disturbing news, he said, “Something queer about it all. I'm beginning to think that somebody doesn't want us to sail on a freighter.”
“What'll we do now?” Joe asked. “Mr. McClintock will be calling up hereâ”
“And won't find us.” Frank grinned. “We're going out to Chet's. He phoned that he needs our help badly. He's pretty sore at us.”
“We
have
neglected him,” Joe agreed. “Wonder how much of his forty-five dollars he's earned?”
have
neglected him,” Joe agreed. “Wonder how much of his forty-five dollars he's earned?”
“He hasn't started his fly-tying business yet.”
The Hardys found Chet sitting on the back porch of the Morton farmhouse, surrounded by a vast assortment of tools and equipment for tying flies. He looked important and busy.
“Quite a layout, Chet,” Frank said as he sat down on the steps.
“Looks as if you're working real hard,” Joe commented with a dash of sarcasm as he sat down, But instantly he jumped up with a yelp and detached a small hook from the seat of his pants.
“Not a bad catch,” Chet remarked. “Got a big mouth Hardy bass on the first cast!”
“Okay, you win that time,” Joe said sheepishly.
Frank chuckled. “Let us in on the project, Chet.”
“Making a trout fly looks simple,” Chet said, “but it's really pretty complicated.” He had a large book propped up against the leg of a chair which he consulted every few seconds.
Then Chet picked up a size sixteen hook. “I'm trying a Quill Gordon just now. Let's seeâblack hackle and yellow mallard wings.”
“Is this your first fly?” asked Joe.
“I've made two so far. Here's one” Chet reached into a tin box and picked up a weird-looking thing.
The Hardys examined the creation dubiously. It was like no fly they had ever seen before. One wing was bigger than the other, and the hook was completely engulfed in a tangle of furs and feathers.
“Looks scary,” Frank remarked. “What is it?”
“Actually,” Chet confessed, “I started out to tie a Royal Coachman, but didn't have any peacock feathers, so I decided to turn it into a Grizzly King, but it came out different from what I expected. So I call it a Morton Special.”
Frank chuckled, “It's original, at any rate.”
“Maybe you could do better.” Chet thrust pliers and scissors toward his friend. “There's the instruction book. Go ahead!”
The Hardys recognized the maneuver. Whenever Chet began a project, some innocent bystander usually completed it for him. However, they were interested in the fly-tying, so they studied the instructions and settled down to the job.
After Frank and Joe had assembled a large assortment of flies and had lunched at the farm, Joe was eager to go back and work on the freighter reservations.
They said good-by to their chum and drove to Bayport. At the outskirts of town they noticed a familiar figure getting out of a police car.
“Patrolman Con Riley,” Joe said with a grin.
Frank brought the car to a stop. “You're a long way from headquarters,” he called out to the officer. “What's up?”
“I'm on a case, Frank.”
“What's the trouble? Has somebody been helping himself to an empty house again?”
“Exactly. A burglary.”
“Mind if we come with you?”
Joe jumped up with a yelp
“Not at all. Maybe you masterminds can solve the case for me!”
The boys joined the policeman as he walked up to a white-and-green frame house.
The name UPDYKE was on the mailbox. Riley rang the doorbell.
Mrs. Updyke, middle-aged and pleasant, invited them into the living room.
“This case isn't as serious as I thought when I telephoned headquarters,” she told them. “You see, I've been away from home for the past three weeksâ”
“And something was stolen!” Riley put in,
“No. That's just it. Nothing was stolen.”
“Now wait a minute,” Riley said, astonished. “I'm here to investigate a burglary.”
Frank ventured a question. “What actually happened? Did some stranger occupy the house while you were away?”
“Yes. I found that one of the beds had been slept in, and some of the kitchen dishes had been used.”
“Indicating,” suggested Frank, “that the person was here for several hours at least.” To himself he added, “Waiting for the express company to deliver a carton, probably.” Aloud he asked, “May I use your phone, Mrs. Updyke?”
“Go right ahead.”
Frank called the express office. He was not surprised to hear that a carton had been delivered to the Updyke house, but was amazed to learn that it had arrived there two weeks ago.
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