The Hidden Harbor Mystery (14 page)

“You may be in danger yourself from the same thing,” Frank told Rand. “You and Mr. Blackstone both claim this pond and the land around it. We boys have a hunch your cousin's assailant may be a person who has a nefarious interest in this property.”

The boys then told of someone's locking them in Rand's room. The professor's startled reaction convinced them he had not done it. “To think the scoundrel followed me in and out of the house,” he said worriedly.

“His accomplice must have locked the closet door from the tunnel side,” Frank added. “They probably planned to harm us later, and didn't expect us to escape!”

“It was a close shave!” Joe murmured.

“We believe the person is doing all he can to block us,” Frank said. “As you know, Professor, we must prove that the Blackstone fortune was made originally by smuggling. We understand the bulk of it is buried at the mouth of a hidden harbor.”

“Humph! It's true,” Professor Rand broke in, “if that's what you want to know. The pond between our properties was old Clement's harbor.”

“So we've learned. But we need proof,” Frank told him. “If you'll furnish some, we may be able to give you a start toward unearthing the Indian village you're looking for.”

The scholar's eyes lighted with interest and surprise, although he asked dubiously, “How do I know you can do what you say?”

In answer, Frank handed over the professor's own map, while Joe held out the arrowhead and hide scraper.

This time Rand did not restrain his enthusiasm. “Wonderful! Perfect! Where were these found?”

“In a spot not far away from where we found plenty of other relics,” Joe spoke up. “But we left most of them undisturbed.”

There was a moment's silence while the professor weighed the offer. Finally he said, “I agree to the trade. And I'll carry out my end of the bargain first.”

The Hardys and Chet listened eagerly as the professor went on. “I never had the slightest interest in the disputed property until I realized the area near the pond was probably the site of an old Indian village. Before excavating, I wanted a clear title to the land, and that started my quarrel with Samuel. He claimed I actually intended to dig for the buried fortune.”

“Didn't you?” Joe asked.

“Not at first. But when nobody would underwrite the excavation, I decided I would have to find the treasure myself in order to finance it. Then, because I wanted no interference, and Samuel is so touchy about his family name, we agreed to cover up our disagreement. I ‘disappeared' so I could hunt undisturbed for the money I hope to find.”

“Both of you want the property for different reasons,” Frank said. “Mr. Blackstone's mainly concerned about anyone else finding the treasure, because of the family papers concealed with it. Is our deduction right?”

Professor Rand nodded. “Exactly.”

“Do
you
know where the fortune is, sir?” Joe asked suddenly.

“I've known it all my life, but it hasn't done me any good.”

“Why not?” Chet burst out.

“I once read in a letter of my grandmother's that it was buried beneath a giant cypress at the mouth of the Hidden Harbor. The problem is, where
was
the cypress?”

For a moment, all four frowned in deep thought.

“I know!” Frank exulted.

Professor Rand, Joe, and Chet turned to him eagerly. “Tell us, pal!” Chet begged.

“Each time we've made a search of the pond, I've noticed a section of tangled root ends,” Frank explained, “and, way underneath, a long irregular outline I knew was a huge fallen tree. That must have been the cypress which once stood beside the old channel at the harbor's mouth!”

“What are we waiting for?” Joe cried out.

The professor, as excited as the boys, hurried with them toward the beach. Soon the four, carrying tools, lights, diving equipment, and a metal detector, made their way eagerly back to the edge of the pond. Frank offered to dive first.

“Look out for the monster!” Joe warned.

Quickly Frank put on his outfit. He attached the lamp to his forehead and slung the metal detector at his belt. Then, taking a long-handled spade, he submerged.

Deeper and deeper Frank stroked. His lamp showed up the enormous fallen tree's mass of roots. Suddenly the detector began to click!

Frank swam under the huge roots and jabbed the spade into the silt. The steel tool thudded against something solid. Adjusting his lamp, Frank saw by its murky gleam what appeared to be the corner of a wooden chest.

“The treasure!” he thought elatedly. “The box is probably made of cypress wood to protect a metal chest!”

The object proved to be out of Frank's reach. Tough, gnarled roots well over a hundred years old had grown so closely around the chest that try as he might, Frank could not move it by hand or shovel.

Disappointed, he turned back through the tangle of roots. As Frank twisted in and out, his air line became fouled. It was tightly snagged between two roots! Frank struggled to free the line, but to no avail.

“Joe and the others expect me to stay down for a while,” the trapped boy thought frantically. “Unless I can signal, they won't come after me until it's too late!”

HOLDING his breath, Frank again fought desperately to free his air line from the binding roots. He thrashed his arms and legs in a futile effort to jerk it loose.

At last he worked one hand down to his lead-weighted belt, where his fingers tore open a small plastic compartment. From it he plucked a white ping-pong ball, which he sent bobbing through the roots toward the surface of the pond. This ball was a trouble signal the Hardy brothers had worked out.

“If only Joe's light picks it up!” Frank thought.

At the pond's edge, meanwhile, Joe, Chet, and Professor Rand watched the smooth surface.

“I'm actually going to see the long-lost family fortune,” the professor declared. “I can hardly believe it!”

“Also,” responded Joe, who stood by in his diving apparatus, “we'll have this case licked!”

Suddenly Chet exclaimed, “A white bubble!”

The next instant Joe spotted the ping-pong ball. “Frank's in danger!” he cried out and plunged underwater. He stroked down, his light beam piercing the dark water. As he approached the fantastically twisted cypress roots, Joe caught sight of Frank, struggling to free himself.

Joe drew his knife and moved in, cutting a path as he went. The two stout roots holding Frank gave way before the razor-sharp blade. Seizing his brother's limp arms, Joe maneuvered him through the roots to the surface.

For a moment the treasure was forgotten completely, while Chet and the professor worked to revive Frank. Luckily he had held his breath a long time, and had swallowed very little water. In a little while he was sitting up and being rubbed vigorously with a towel.

“I saw part of a chest,” Frank told the others. “It's enmeshed in the silt and tree roots. We'll have to blast it out.”

The boys suggested that they obtain dynamite and return the following day. Professor Rand agreed to the idea but reminded them that the next day was Sunday. “No stores will be open. We'll have to wait until Monday.”

The group agreed to keep the matter a secret, then separated. The boys went back to their campsite, had a late snack, and bedded down on the sand under the open sky.

Monday morning was clear and sunshiny, as they headed for town in the yellow convertible.

First, Frank parked in front of a drugstore and went into the phone booth to call the Sea City police. In a few minutes he came back and reported, “They've had no luck tracking down those thugs who attacked us in the hotel.”

The trio decided to enlist the editor's help in obtaining the dynamite. They went to his office and told of their discovery at the pond. Highly excited, Bart was glad to accompany the trio to make the purchase.

“Anything to retrieve that chest,” he exclaimed as they entered Larchmont's only hardware store. Bart made his request to an elderly clerk.

“Dynamite, hey!” the shopkeeper repeated in a loud voice of surprise. Other customers turned to look. “One thing we don't have. Just a minute, though.”

The clerk went to the cellar doorway and shouted down the stairs. “Henry! Folks here need some dynamite! Know where they can get some?”

Uneasily, the Hardys, Chet, and Bart glanced at the curious faces peering at them.

“What say?” came a voice from the cellar.

“Dynamite,”
roared the clerk. “Folks here want to do a little blasting!”

“Oh,
dynamite!”
Henry shouted back. “They can get it in Dobbsville!”

“Thanks very much,” said Bart, and the four hastily left the store.

As they stepped into the car, Joe noted ruefully, “Well, if anyone in town doesn't know we need dynamite, they will in a few minutes!”

“You said it. Around here they don't need a loud-speaker!” Chet grinned.

Bart Worth directed the way to Dobbsville. Once there, he and the Hardys entered the hardware store, while Chet went off to make a purchase of his own. He returned with a paper bag just as the others were gingerly placing a small wooden case marked dynamite on the rear floor of the convertible.

“Dangerous cargo,” Chet remarked.

“It sure is,” Bart agreed, then asked the Hardys, “Do you fellows know how to handle this stuff?”

Frank nodded. “Dad has taught us about explosives.”

“Right now,” Chet put in, “let's eat!” Happily the stout boy pulled out some huge sandwiches filled with several layers of ham, lettuce, tomatoes, and cheese. “I got four of these for our lunch.”

“Looks like a seven-course meal!” Joe teased.

Bart smiled. “I'd like to join you boys, but I have to do an errand, You go on ahead. I'll take a taxi back and meet you at the pond in an hour.”

A few minutes later the Hardys and Chet were heading for Larchmont. The car crossed a crystal-clear brook winding through a shady stand of pines set back on a knoll.

“Stop!” ordered Chet. “Here's the place for our submarine sandwiches.”

Laughing, the boys parked off the road and got out. Soon they were sprawled on the soft pine needle carpet of the grove, where they could just see the sunlight flashing on the front of the convertible.

To Chet's amusement, the Hardys relished the four hearty sandwiches as much as he.

“Wow! I must've been hungry!” Joe chuckled.

A short time later they were en route again. Suddenly Joe exclaimed, “I smell something burning. Whew!” The next instant he cried, “Pull over, Frank! Quick!”

Frank swerved the big car onto the shoulder. It lurched to a stop. “Look in the back!” Joe shouted. “The dynamite!”

To their horror, a crude string fuse, inserted into the box, was sputtering up to the lid. Joe leaped over the seat, yanked the string, and flung it from the car.

“I
thought
I heard a car slow up while we were eating,” he said grimly. “But it never came into view.”

“It probably dropped someone off,” Frank reasoned. ‘‘He,could have put in that fuse, working on the road side of the convertible to keep out of our sight.“

“He waited until he saw us coming back,” Joe added. “Then he lighted the fuse and slipped into the woods across the road.”

“Yes. Where his pal in the car will pick him up again,” Frank concluded. “Remember, everybody in Larchmont knew we'd gone to Dobbsville for the explosive. Some of the gang followed us, although there was no car in back of us before we parked.”

Shaken, the boys went on. Soon they were speeding along the fishermen's road toward their camp.

Here they encountered the tall figure of Professor Rand pacing nervously up and down. “I'm so excited, I couldn't sit at home and wait!” he confessed.

“We're all set. Operation Dynamite's under way!” Joe announced.

In a matter of minutes the small procession headed for the pond. Chet toted the rucksack of diving gear. Professor Rand carried digging implements and the metal detector. Frank and Joe took turns carrying the box of dynamite.

At last they reached the water's edge. The professor had already concurred with the Hardys that it would be best to attempt raising the chest first. Later the boys would show him the place where they had unearthed the Indian relics. “I realize,” he said, “that by now the gang knows you lads have escaped their malicious trap. They may try something worse at any time.”

The Hardys had just put on their underwater gear when Bart arrived. Then Frank opened the wooden case and checked the paper-wrapped sticks of dynamite.

“We'll rig one stick,” he decided quickly. “It may be all we need. Besides, it's safer that way.”

With Frank carrying the explosive, the brothers submerged. Joe swam ahead, cutting a path through the cypress roots. Frank followed, and carefully planted the charge near the base of the tree trunk, but at sufficient distance not to damage the chest. While Joe stood by, Frank took a blasting cap from his belt and quickly inserted it into the dynamite. He then connected the cap's wires to a battery. This done, the brothers struck out swiftly to the surface.

Swimming ashore, the Hardys led Rand, Worth, and Chet around the bank away from the blasting area. Frank checked his waterproof watch. “Any minute now.”

Tensely the five stared at the placid waters.

“There she blows!” Joe sang out as a muffled rumble shook the ground. A sudden agitation showed on the water's surface as if a geyser had gushed up from below. A grotesque, clawlike root rose into the sunshine, then sank back into the muddy waters.