The
Albert
was alive with the sound of ship's noises when the Hardys awakened. Footsteps sounded on gangways, and the smell of ham and hot coffee drifted into their cabin.
By this time Frank's clothes had dried. The boys dressed hurriedly and found their way to the breakfast table. The seamen joked about Frank's dunking.
“He went down like a seal!” said one of his rescuers with a chuckle.
“More like a walrus I would say,” Frank replied, and took his place at the square table beside Captain Holmquist.
“Now you will have something to tell back home,” the skipper said.
The Hardys had soft-boiled eggs, cereal, and milk. In the center of the table stood a tall can of cod-liver oil. After watching the seamen help themselves, Frank and Joe each took a large spoonful, washed down by a second glass of milk.
“Now you're all set for the
Svartfugel,”
Captain Holmquist said. “She's off our port bow, if you'd like to take a look.”
The boys hastened to the deck and looked across the leaden waters toward a tubby little trawler. The captain followed with his bullhorn. In Icelandic he asked if Rex Mar was aboard.
“Ja, ja,”
came the answer.
The ocean was calm enough for the two boats to pull alongside and soon Frank and Joe dropped to the deck of the
Svartfugel.
“Take your time,” Captain Holmquist said. “We will wait for you.”
The small boat had only a crew of five, and its skipper called below decks for Rex Mar. The man appeared, wearing a brown sweater. Its turtleneck set off a square, weather-beaten face, topped by a patch of flowing gray hair beneath a seaman's cap.
Frank Hardy extended a hand in greeting. Rex Mar's looked like a bear paw in comparison.
“I'm Frank Hardy. Do you speak English, Mr. Mar?”
“Yes.”
Joe introduced himself and said, “There's something we would like you to do.”
“No, I won't do it!” Mar said and turned down the narrow gangway.
“Wait a minute!” Frank called out. “You won't do what?”
The old fellow regarded them grimly through watery blue eyes. “I won't do what you want me to do. I was asked before. The answer is still No!”
Frank and Joe exchanged puzzled glances. Finally Frank said, “Mr. Mar, we only want you to identify yourself.”
Rex Mar closed one eye suspiciously. “Rex Mar is the name, and that's all.”
From the rail of the
Albert,
Holmquist looked down with a slight smile of amusement on his face. In rapid-fire Icelandic he spoke with the old seaman. Instantly Mar seemed more ready to cooperate.
“What is it you want to know?”
“We are looking for Rex Hallbjornsson,” Frank said.
“Why?”
“Somebody left him some insurance money.”
The man's face lit up like the aurora borealis. “Rex Hallbjornsson.
Ja,
I am the one!”
Frank and Joe beamed at each other and shook hands vigorously. “Frank, we've done it!” said Joe. “We found our man!”
But the elder Hardy boy was not convinced that the man standing before them was the real Rex Hallbjornsson.
“Tell us,” he said, “how, why, and when did you change your name?”
The old seaman took a pail, turned it upside down, and used it for a seat. Frank and Joe leaned against the capstan and listened to his tale.
Mar said that he once was shipwrecked off the coast of France. After he had been rescued, his name Hallbjornssonâhard to spell for foreigners âhad been recorded incorrectly.
“I went to Spain,” he said, “where my name was spelled wrong again. What a mess it was! The
b, j,
and the
l's
were all mixed up. I don't think anybody could sneeze the name!”
Joe chuckled at the description. “So you changed it?”
“Yes. I chose the name Mar because it means sea. You see, I had to do it. In Spain they thought I was a spy since all the names on my papers were spelled differently. And you know,” he said, rubbing the side of his nose, “somebody still thinks I'm a spy.”
“Who?” asked Frank.
“Two men. They came to see me.”
“About what?” Joe wanted to know.
“About a job.” Mar explained that someone wanted the help of a man who knew the coast of Iceland intimately. “But I didn't take it!”
The Hardys were immediately alerted by the strange request. Frank said, “If they ever come to you with that proposal again, will you let me know?”
“All right,” Mar replied, glancing up at Captain Holmquist.
Convinced that Mar was indeed Rex Hallbjornsson, Frank told him that he had been named the beneficiary in a life insurance policy paying fifty thousand dollars. The old fellow's jaw dropped, and he stood up, looking bewildered.
When the name of the policyholder was given, a faraway look came into his eyes. He told the Hardys that it was a man he saved from drowning. “Now he will make my old age a comfortable one,” Mar said with feeling.
Frank suggested that he come with them, leaving the trawler at once. “You'll have to sign some papers in Reykjavik, and then we'll try to get your money as soon as possible, Mr. Mar.”
The
Svartfugel's
skipper gave permission for his crewman to leave, and Rex Mar and the boys boarded the
Albert.
It was late in the afternoon when the coast guard boat pulled into Reykjavik Harbor. The Hardys thanked Captain Holmquist and his crew, then stepped onto the dock. The old seaman followed. A taxi took them into town. Mar was let off at his rooming house, with instructions to await word from the boys, and Frank and Joe continued on to their hotel.
After hastening upstairs, they rapped on the door of Chet's room. No answer. They went to their own room and phoned the desk. Had Biff and Chet left any message?
The answer nearly floored them. Their friends had checked out of the hotel the day before.
“What's going on?” Frank asked the clerk.
The man did not know, except that he had observed the pair talking with Gummi shortly before they signed out.
Instantly Joe got on the phone to their Icelandic friend. “Gummi, where are Chet and Biff?”
“You should know! They left after getting your message!”
CHAPTER XIII
Eavesdroppers
“WE didn't send any message!” Joe exclaimed, holding the receiver so that Frank could follow the conversation.
“Oh no!” Gummi said that Chet and Biff had returned from an unsuccessful visit to Hafnarfjordur and shortly afterward received word ostensibly from Frank and Joe to meet them somewhere.
“Good night! That was a hoax! Tell me, where were they to meet us?”
“They didn't say. Chet only told me it was a secret.”
The Hardys were worried. Obviously this was an attempt by Musselman to split the ranks and deal with them individually.
Frank took the phone from Joe. “If we only had a clue! A single clue! Think hard, Gummi. Didn't Chet or Biff drop some kind of hint where they were going?”
“Yes, Chet did,” Gummi said after a thoughtful pause. “He mentioned that he had better get some seasick pills.”
“That's all?”
“Yes.”
“Well, if you remember anything else, Gummi, give us a ring, will you?”
“Sure thing.”
Frank hung up.
“At least we know they were going somewhere by boat,” Joe said.
“Don't jump to conclusions, Joe. The deduction might be true, and it might not.”
“If it were,” Joe reasoned, “perhaps Chet and Biff went somewhere off the coast of Snaefell Glacier where you saw the mysterious raft!”
“There's only one thing to do nowâinform the police and the coast guard,” Frank said crisply. “I'll call them right away.”
After he had notified the authorities about their missing friends, Frank telephoned Captain Magnusson. The skipper told him that the poachers had been heavily fined. The
Tek
was also fine-combed again, but the only thing found was a coil of fine nylon line attached to an underwater hook. No sign of a man fitting the description of Musselman.
Then Frank told the captain about Chet and Biff.
“The
Thor
is going on patrol again tonight, Frank,” Magnusson said. “If they are anywhere in the Icelandic waters, we'll find them!”
“Thanks, Captain.” Frank hung up and turned to Joe. Quickly he told him the news. “Obviously the nylon line was for towing something,” he concluded.
“Yes, but we didn't see any boat behind the
Tek,”
replied Joe.
“I know. It's a puzzler all right.”
“What's next?”
“Let's have something to eat, then we'll radio Dad.”
After a quick supper the boys contacted their father. They got through to Texas immediately.
Frank reported that they had found Rex Mar, and Mr. Hardy congratulated them. Then he spelled out in detail an affidavit, which Frank was to prepare for the man to sign. The boy copied down the document, then told about Chet and Biff's mysterious disappearance.
Mr. Hardy expressed his worry, and casually switched to code. He was sure that the boys' disappearance was tied in with the astronaut case.
“If you find Musselman, you will probably find Biff and Chet,” Mr. Hardy advised.
After their father signed off, the boys tried to map out a plan of action.
“We're really stuck,” Joe muttered. “The only clue is that Chet and Biff may be on a boat, and we can't chase them on the ocean.”
“The coast guard'll have to do it,” Frank admitted. “But where to find Musselman? As far as he's concerned, we don't have any clues at all!”
Joe sighed. “How about going over to Rex Mar with the affidavit? There's not much else we can do tonight.”
“Okay.”
The boys walked the short distance to the sailor's place. He occupied a large room on the first floor.
Mar greeted them cordially, putting down his pipe on a small table to shake hands with them. He offered them chairs, then sank back onto a sofa and sent ringlets of smoke from his pipe.
“You look pretty happy, Mr. Mar,” Frank said jovially.
“I am a rich man.”
“You will be, after a few formalities,” Joe agreed as Frank produced the affidavit.
Rex Mar held it at arm's length, scrutinizing every word, then he took the pen proffered by Frank in his gnarled fingers and scratched his name at the bottom of the paper.
“After this is processed in the States,” Frank said, “you will receive your money.”
“Fine,” Mar replied. Then he looked at the Hardys seriously. “I have something to tell you,” he said as Frank returned the affidavit to his pocket. “They were here again to see me.”
“Who was?”
“The men who think I am a spy. You asked me to tell you.”
“Thanks for the tip,” Frank replied, leaning forward in his chair. “What did they say?”
“They want me to get a boat and help them take something out of the country illegally!”
“What did you tell them?”
“I said I wanted to think it over. They will return in an hour for my answer. I was about to call you when you rang my bell.”
“Mr. Mar, what did these fellows look like?” Joe queried.
“One was bald, short, and heavy-set. The other was black-haired with a rather long nose. They are due here any minute.”
Frank and Joe exchanged glances. There was no doubt in their minds that the men were Musselman and his pal.
“What do you want me to do?” Mar asked.
“Go along with their proposition,” Frank said.
“But it is illegal!”
“That's just it. We might be able to uncover a nefarious scheme.”
“All right. I will do as you say. You go now and I'll tell you later exactly what they want me to do.”
Joe looked around. “I have a better idea. We'll listen in.” He pointed to a small closet. “Can we both get in there?”
Mar sucked on his pipe, sending out a billow of smoke. “I think so.”
He opened the closet, which was rank with the odor of old clothes. A few tools were stacked in one corner. The boys squeezed in. A narrow crack between the floor and the bottom of the door would allow enough air to keep them from suffocating.
“When they come, I will get them to leave as soon as possible,” Rex Mar said.
Frank coughed a bit, and Joe's throat burned, as he inhaled the pipe smoke which drifted over the room like an early-morning heavy fog.
The doorbell rang. As Mar went to answer it, Frank and Joe ducked into the closet. Seconds later they heard Mar return with a visitor. The voice was unmistakable.
Musselman!
Frank and Joe hardly dared to breathe, lest any sound give away their eavesdropping hideout.
“All right now,” said Mar. “Tell me just what do you want me to do?”
“How many times must I tell you?” the caller replied impatiently. “I want you to rent a small fishing boat.”
“And then what?”
“Are you absolutely daft, old man?” snapped Musselman. “Go to the coast near Snaefellsjokull and I'll be waiting for you there. Look, here's the spot.”
Frank and Joe heard the crinkling of paper as a map was spread out on the table.
“Yes. I see it,” said Mar. “But I cannot sail such a boat all alone.”
“Then get yourself a crew. I will pay you well.”
“How many will you pay for?”