Read The Secret of Pirates' Hill Online
Authors: Franklin W. Dixon
The Secret of Pirates' Hill (13 page)
“Let's examine that handle closely,” Frank suggested, getting a magnifying glass.
There was a heavy, richly encrusted leaf scroll pattern. The Hardys scrutinized this minutely to see if it concealed any gems or contraband, but without success.
“I still think there might be something in this handle,” Frank said stubbornly. “Let's try that special magnifying glass of Dad's.”
“Good idea!” said Joe. “I'll get it.”
He ran back to the house and in a few minutes returned with the extra-powerful glass.
Frank focused it over the handle inch by inch. Suddenly his face lighted up. “Look here, Joe!” he exclaimed, pointing.
Looking through the magnifier, Joe saw a tiny line which had been cleverly worked into the leaf pattern.
With the thin blade of a knife, Frank tried to force the crack open, but it was impossible.
“Maybe there's a spring hidden somewhere in the handle,” Joe suggested. “Let me try it.”
Frank handed him the cutlass and Joe bent over it intently. He pressed each tiny leaf but the crack did not widen.
“A spring could be connected with the blade,” Frank mused. “But how?”
“Perhaps the spring is rusted after all these years,” Joe said. “I'll try hitting the blade on something.”
He looked around the laboratory and found a slab of stone left over from a previous experiment. Grasping the handle of the cutlass firmly, he jabbed the tip against the hard surface.
Click! The crack widened a full inch!
The boys were jubilant. Frank bent down and examined the sword.
“The tip contains a tiny mechanism,” he said after a moment's scrutiny. “It must extend through the blade all the way to the handle. Very ingenious!”
He inspected the opening and reached into it with his thumb and forefinger.
“Anything there?” Joe asked.
“Wait a minuteâ”
There was a soft crinkling noise. “I can feel something,” Frank said. “Here it comes.”
Gingerly he pulled out a small piece of ancient parchment. It was folded up into a compact wad.
Frank carefully smoothed it out. “There's writing on it!” he exclaimed excitedly.
CHAPTER XVII
Gunner's Tools
“FRANK, this message is written in what seems to me ancient Spanish,” Joe said. “I can't make it out.”
“Whatever it says must be mighty important,” Frank concluded, “or the writer wouldn't have hidden the message.”
“And Bowden and Gorman and Latsky must think so too,” Joe added.
Happy but weary, the boys went to bed, the cutlass safely tucked under Frank's mattress.
At breakfast the next morning they showed the old parchment to their mother and Aunt Gertrude. All were bending over it excitedly when Chet walked in.
“Wow!” he said when he heard the newest development in the mystery. “You sure are good detectives.”
At that moment the phone rang. “I'll take it,” Joe offered, hoping the caller would be Mr. Hardy.
The other boys followed him to the phone and stood near as he spoke.
Placing his hand over the mouthpiece, Joe whispered to Chet and Frank, “It's Bowden!”
He held the receiver a distance from his ear to let them hear the conversation. Bowden said that Gorman had been arrested in St. Louis while traveling under an assumed name.
“A friend of mine on the St. Louis police force, knowing I was interested, just phoned me,” Bowden continued. “I guess we can go about locating the cannon without any interference from Gorman.”
The boys were skeptical of the story.
To Bowden, Joe merely said, “Thank you for the information. We're working hard on the case.”
The man told Joe he would let the Hardys know if anything further developed. He was about to hang up when Chet burst out:
“Tell him we've found the clue in the cutlass!”
Frank gave Chet a warning look, but too late. Bowden's next words were, “I heard what someone just said. What's it all about?”
“Oh, nothing, really,” Joe replied. “Just a story we heard and haven't had time to check out yet.”
“Oh.” Bowden seemed to be thinking hard, but did not pursue the matter.
After Joe hung up, Chet apologized for revealing the news. Frank and Joe were disturbed but assured him that by working fast they would get to the bottom of the mystery and no harm would result from Chet's slip.
“Now if we could only think of someone who might translate the message on the parchment,” Frank said.
“Let's try our Spanish teacher, Miss Kelly,” Joe suggested. “If sheâ”
At that moment the doorbell rang. Aunt Gertrude went to answer it and presently came back with a telegram.
“It's for you,” she said and handed the message over to Frank.
“From Dad,” the boy said as he unfolded the telegram. “And, Joe, it's in code!”
“Let's go upstairs and decipher it,” Joe said. The Hardys dashed to their father's study and removed Mr. Hardy's code book from his filing cabinet. Quickly they decoded the message:
BEWARE DOUBLE-CROSSING BY BOWDEN!
“Double-crossing!” Frank echoed the warning in the telegram. “Dad must have further information about Bowden.”
“I wish he had told us more,” Joe said as they returned to the first floor with the news of Mr. Hardy's message. Instantly Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude became alarmed.
The boys, fearful that their mother might insist they abandon their sleuthing, promised to take extra precautions from now on.
“If Bowden still doesn't suspect that we mistrust him,” Frank said, “we'll have the advantage.”
“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 aboutâNo.” 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.
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.”
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