The Secret of Skeleton Reef (6 page)

Isaac walked out of the room and out of the cabin area. Curious about who the rifle was intended for, Frank followed Isaac up to the deck.

Flask, Joe, Ishmael, and several other crew members were standing by the gunwale on the port side
of the boat. Isaac approached the gunwale with his rifle, and Frank joined the group.

Shielding his eyes from the sun, Frank saw a boat cutting through the water straight for the
Destiny
. It was a fiberglass powerboat, and Frank could hear gales of laughter over the engine's roar. “Don't shoot unless you have to,” Flask told Isaac, keeping his eyes on the approaching boat.

“No, skipper, I won't,” Isaac replied.

“Who is that?” Frank asked Flask.

“That's Rob and Davy,” Flask said gruffly. “They're a couple of blokes from Australia. Scavengers is what they are.”

“How do you mean?” Frank asked.

“Whenever some guy like me locates a sizable treasure somewhere,” Flask explained, “Rob and Davy always manage to find out about it. I don't care if it's the Caribbean or the Mediterranean or the Amazon, they show up.”

“What do they do?” Joe asked.

“They try to steal the treasure,” Flask said after a spit in the water. “Any way they can. They might sneak underwater at night, or they might fight you off with guns in broad daylight. They even blew a guy's boat up once. They're dirty dogs, both of them. Crazy, too. Real crazy.”

Moments later the powerboat stopped beside the
Destiny
, engine idling. Joe appraised the two men standing in the boat. One was short with a crooked nose, the other tall with a nasty scar on his cheek.
Both men wore baseball caps over their longish hair and neither had shaved for several days. Though they seemed to be in their forties, the men were giggling like a pair of devious schoolboys.

“Rob's the squirt,” Flask told the Hardys. “Davy's the taller one.”

“Ahoy there, Captain Flask!” Rob called out. “I understand you've found some nice pirate treasure out here.”

“Some
very
nice treasure!” Davy added. The men spoke with Australian accents, which sounded like a rougher version of an English accent.

“That's right,” Flask called back. “I spent four years looking for it, and I've got no intention of sharing a single ingot with the likes of you two!”

“You don't have to be so hostile,” Davy called.

“No, we were just thinking, Davy and me,” Rob called, “that maybe you could use a few extra hands.”

“We'll do whatever you say, Captain,” Davy said. “All you have to do is give us a teeny-weeny, itsy-bitsy piece of the pie!” At that, Rob and Davy burst into raucous laughter.

“Sorry,” Flask barked. “I've got all the help I need. Besides, I don't like scum on my decks.”

“I see,” Rob called, rubbing his stubbly chin. “Well, what if something unfortunate were to happen to a couple of your crew members? Would you be needing some additional help then?”

“If you touch anybody on my crew,” Flask said,
“I'll make sure you two never take a breath of anything but seawater again. Got it? Now scram! I have been granted exclusive rights to this site by the St. Lucia government.”

“Aw, Captain,” Davy called out, “there's no need to be using harsh words. We're all friends here.”

“I said scram!” Flask thundered.

“It's a free sea!” Rob yelled. “We'll scram when we've got a mind to scram!”

“Isaac,” Flask said quietly.

Isaac lifted his rifle to eye level. Then he pulled the trigger, and a shot resounded in the open air. Isaac fired again. Joe could see Isaac was aiming wide of the Australians, trying only to scare them.

“On second thought,” Rob called out, “maybe we'd better scram now. Don't worry though, Captain, you haven't heard the last of us!”

“Oh, no!” Davy added. “Not by a long shot.”

The two Australians howled with laughter as they turned their boat around and zoomed away.

“Good work, Isaac,” Flask said. “From now on, I want you and Ishmael to be extra careful. Crazy as they are, those guys are smart and dangerous—like a pair of hyenas.”

“Fear not, Skipper,” Isaac said. “Isaac and Ishmael can handle those two just fine.” Ishmael gave one nod, then the two cousins headed back to their post on the top deck.

“Isaac and Ishmael,” Flask told the Hardys,
“they're not afraid of anything. Well, no, maybe there's one thing they're afraid of.”

“What's that?” Frank said, watching Rob and Davy's boat disappear in the sun's glare.

“There's a ghost that supposedly haunts the waters around here,” Flask said.

“Rebecca,” Joe said.

“Yeah, I think that's her name,” Flask said, fingering the gold coin around his neck. “One night Isaac and Ishmael thought they saw the ghost, and it near scared them to death. I don't believe in ghosts myself, but some of these island folk are pretty superstitious.”

Using this as a cue, Flask began telling the Hardys a few tales of his travels around the many Caribbean islands. He seemed to have no shortage of stories, but after half an hour he left to consult with Brunelli over some nautical matter.

“What did you find out about the redhead?” Joe asked, once the Hardys were alone.

The sun was beating down hard on the deck, and Frank wiped sweat from his forehead. “Her full name is Peg Riley,” he said. “I think she transferred the stolen goods to her duffel bag. It also turns out she's Chrissy's roommate.”

“Interesting,” Joe said, brushing back his blond hair. “Maybe she's been bringing her stolen goods home, and Chrissy found them. That would give Peg a reason to attack Chrissy.”

“She didn't seem all that worried about Chrissy, either,” Frank added.

“I had a chat with Pierre Montclare,” Joe said.

“What did he have to say?” Frank asked.

“Not much,” Joe replied. “He said he's in the banana business and he didn't want us on the boat because we're not covered by his insurance policy. I didn't get to ask anything about Chrissy. He seemed to be in an awfully foul mood.”

“Something occurred to me while you were diving,” Frank told Joe. “The person who tried to kill Chrissy might believe she died in the water last night. What I'm saying is, we might look for signs of guilt in the people we speak to today. For example, that could explain why Montclare was in such a bad mood.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” Joe said. “Then again, not all criminals show any sign of guilt.”

“That's true,” Frank said.

Frank saw Brunelli approaching. He was cleaning his fingernails with some object, and Frank realized it was the type of spear used with a speargun. “You boys seem awfully interested in this expedition,” Brunelli said, leaning on the gunwale.

“It's interesting stuff,” Frank said.

“I guess it is,” Brunelli said, glancing from Frank to Joe. “Especially if you're not here every day. It's mostly a lot of hard work. Sweating on this deck, hauling equipment, groping through the sand.”

“Look at this, boys,” Flask said as he approached
the Hardys. He was holding a clear plastic bag filled with water, and inside the bag was the leather shoe Dirk had brought up.

“What's the water for?” Frank asked.

“We keep all the relics soaking in seawater,” Flask explained. “It keeps them from breaking apart before they're properly treated.”

Frank wondered if Peg had filled bags with water to keep her stolen relics intact. It was possible she had done just that in the rest room, he figured, maybe even sprinkling salt in the bags to simulate seawater.

“You know something, boys,” Flask said, eyeing the shoe fondly, “this thing is more valuable to me than anything we've found so far. You can keep all the silver, gold, and jewels. I'll take this dilapidated old scrap of footwear.”

Brunelli was still cleaning his fingernails with the spear. “Sandy, I wish I
could
keep all the gold and silver,” he said with a bitter laugh. “But, unfortunately, I can't.” Then Brunelli tapped the spear against Frank's shoulder and walked away.

“Why is the shoe so valuable to you?” Joe asked.

“Because it's like a fragment of the pirate past coming back to life,” Flask said with excitement. “I look at this shoe and can almost see the man who wore it. His skin tanned and leathery from the sun. His fingers gnarled from working the ropes. His body scarred from countless brawls and battles. I imagine his name was Bart.”

“You're fascinated by pirates, aren't you, sir?” Frank asked, amused by Flask's enthusiasm.

“Yes, indeed, I am,” Flask admitted. “Pirates, not money, are the reason I spent so much time looking for the
Laughing Moon
. And I feel a special kinship with its captain, Black Dan Cavendish.”

“What was he like?” Frank asked.

“A fearsome fellow but also quite intelligent,” Flask said as if he knew the man personally. “He was an officer in the British Navy before he decided to join the piratical trade. During those four long years I spent looking for this ship, I got pretty frustrated from time to time. But every once in a while, in the darkest hours of night, I could almost hear Black Dan talking to me.”

“What would he say?” Joe asked, intrigued.

“Black Dan,” Flask said, almost whispering, “he would tell me, ‘Keep looking, Sandy, ol' boy. Keep looking. I want you to be the one to find the
Laughing Moon
, and I know you will. Yes, mate, I know you will.' ”

“I thought you didn't believe in ghosts,” Frank said, raising an eyebrow at Flask.

“Well, maybe I do just a bit,” the captain confessed.

Frank and Joe spent another two hours on the
Destiny
, during which time they managed to speak with every person on board. The cast consisted of Flask, Montclare, Brunelli, Peg, Ted, Dirk, Ziggy, Vines, Wilson, Isaac, Ishmael, and Teisenbach, the
archaeologist. Aside from Montclare and Peg, the Hardys found no one especially suspicious. Finally the Hardys thanked Captain Flask for his hospitality and climbed down into their humble wooden skiff.

After the skiff was unlashed, Joe yanked the cord, and the outboard motor roared to life. The Hardys began cruising homeward through the turquoise water. Some dark clouds were drifting into the sky, but they didn't seem threatening.

Ten minutes later, however, Frank heard a sound that bothered him more than any rumble of thunder ever had. It was the sound of raucous laughter mixed with a powerboat's engine.

Rob and Davy were speeding toward the Hardys, leaving a trail of white foam in their wake. “Are they coming after us?” Frank asked from the bow.

“I think so,” Joe said, looking worried.

“Ahoy there!” Rob called, waving his arms.

“Keep going,” Frank said. “We can't outrun them, but we can ignore them.”

“Ahoy!” Rob shouted again as the powerboat closed in fast on the Hardy's skiff.

Davy picked up a brown bottle. The next moment he seemed to be holding something to the bottle's neck. “What is he . . . ” Joe began.

Davy heaved the bottle through the air. Several yards away from the Hardys, the bottle exploded, spraying glass in all directions.

Rob and Davy howled with crazy laughter.

“That was a bomb!” Joe exclaimed.

“I know, and it looks like they've got more,” Frank said, seeing the scavengers each pick up a new bottle.

Still guffawing, Rob and Davy were lighting their bottle bombs. “What are we going to do?” Joe cried out. “If one of those bombs hits us, it could sink our boat!”

Rob and Davy heaved their bombs at the Hardys' skiff. Horrified, Frank knew he and his brother were running out of luck.

“Swing!” Frank called.

Joe jerked the outboard handle, and the boat veered to starboard. The bombs exploded to port, showering Frank and Joe with glass fragments.

“Are you okay?” Frank called to his brother.

“Fine,” Joe shouted back.

The powerboat pulled up alongside the skiff, and Rob cut back the engine to keep pace with the Hardys. Frank glimpsed a basket filled with the brown bottle bombs inside the boat. He also noticed Rob had a pistol tucked into his pants.

“Where are you boys running off to?” Rob called. “The party is just starting!”

“Yeah, right,” Joe said sarcastically. “Why don't you crash somebody else's party.”

Frank wished they could speed away, but he knew they didn't have enough horsepower to outrace Rob and Davy's boat. He scanned the sea, hoping there was a vessel nearby to help out in case of trouble. There was nothing around but miles of water.

“How do you like serving on Captain Kidd's crew?” Rob asked, keeping the powerboat abreast of the skiff. “Oh, I mean, Captain Flask.”

“We're not members of the crew,” Frank replied. “We were just visiting for the day. What's it to you?”

“Are you sure you're not members of the crew?” Davy asked. “You looked like crew members.”

“Because if you
were
members of the crew,” Rob said with a wicked leer, “we might want to make you go away. That way we'd get to be members of the crew.”

“Dream on,” Joe muttered.

“Look, we don't work for Flask,” Frank added.

“You know what I think, Davy?” Rob said, lifting a bomb from the basket.

“What's that, Robby boy?” Davy asked, also grabbing a bomb.

“I think they're lying,” Rob said with a sneer.

“So do I,” Davy said with a chuckle.

“Why don't we teach them a lesson?”

“Indeed, I think they need it!”

Frank watched in horror as Rob and Davy flicked lighters, then lit the rope fuses sticking out from
the bottles. Joe turned the skiff away, but Frank knew there was nowhere to run. Rob and Davy held their lit bombs a few seconds so they would explode almost immediately after being thrown.