The Bombay Boomerang (13 page)

“You fit the bill, Nathoo,” Joe urged. “Besides, you know one member of the gang. You might find a lead there. How about it?”

Nathoo Keeka reacted to the plea with a simple word. “Okay!”

After a minute he continued, “My country and yours will be better off for the capture of these criminals. And I will have the satisfaction of settling my account with the deceiver who hoped that I would murder you!”

Frank stood up. “That's fine, Nathoo. Here's your dagger. Now let's get out of here.”

Since the Hardys had paid in advance, they did not have to go to the lobby. The five climbed through the window and descended the fire escape. Walking rapidly through a maze of streets and alleys, they headed for another hotel. Frank was sure they had not been followed.

All the while the boys kept up an animated conversation with their new friend. It had nothing to do with crime or criminals, but with the fascination of India.

“I'm interested in the god Krishna,” Phil declared. “Tell us more about him.”

“The great god Krishna,” Nathoo Keeka intoned gravely, “is the deity who preserves the universe. He is the hero of our epics. He is the teacher of kindness and brotherhood. You can see why he is so important in Hindu religion. The life of our people would be entirely different if we did not worship the mighty preserver of all things.”

Frank cast a glance at the Indian's serious face as he continued:

“I was obeying our commandment against sacrilege when I tried to kill you. If you had really been guilty, I would not have felt a twinge of remorse!”

Tony felt slightly uncomfortable at Nathoo's last statement and changed the subject with a quip.

“When I think of India, I have visions of tigers and elephants and maharajahs. That's what I'll be looking for if I ever go there!”

Nathoo Keeka laughed. “Tigers and elephants are there in the jungle. The maharajahs still exist, even though they are not as powerful as they used to be. My friend, come to India and we will hunt the tiger together!”

Joe mentioned the Taj Mahal. “Ah, there you have our masterpiece!” Keeka declared. “The Taj Mahal in Agra, built by the Great Moguls, who invaded India. But then, so much in our country was put there by invaders.

“My home city Bombay was only a small fishing village a few centuries ago. Then the British came. They needed a big seaport to handle merchantmen from Europe, and Bombay provided the site.”

Frank judged this the right moment to spring a surprise question on their informant.

“What do you know about the Bombay Boomerang?” he asked sharply.

“Why, we have plenty of boomerangs in Bombay. The people of southern India used them for hunting. Today, however, they are mainly considered objects of art, sacred relics, and cherished heirlooms. Antique dealers do a thriving business in them, especially to American tourists. Our—”

“I'm not talking about boomerangs in general,” Frank interrupted. “I'm talking about the Bombay Boomerang.”

“Bombay Boomerang? I don't know what you mean. No single weapon has a special place in our tradition.” Nathoo stopped and broke into a grin. “Perhaps you refer to the
Bombay Batarang?
That is another freighter en route from India. She will dock at Baltimore this afternoon!”

 

 

 

 

THE boys gaped in astonishment. They had been convinced that Bombay Boomerang was the phrase that had come through the phone in Commander Wenn's office.

Was it possible that the words had been
Bombay Batarang?
the Hardys wondered.

“What's all this boomerang stuff about?” Phil inquired.

“Just a phrase we picked up. Thought it meant something,” Frank replied.

He pulled Joe aside and they let the others go ahead. “What do you make of this?” he asked.

“Don't know. Admiral Rodgers, too, is sure that the intruders said Bombay Boomerang.”

“That was before we heard about the ship,” Frank countered. “Maybe the Pentagon tape should be checked again. Suppose the gang intends to slip the Super S on board the
Batarang
for a trip out of the country?”

“We don't have time to go back to the Pentagon, not with the freighter docking here this afternoon. Let's check out the
Batarang
as soon as she comes in.”

“Since there are five of us, we could divide forces, one group to go aboard, the other to patrol the docks,” Frank mused.

“Right. But remember, all this is classified information. We can't tell the others much about it.”

“They don't have to know the details,” Frank decided. “And we can give them a general idea of what we're after.”

They found a suitable hotel and checked in. Then Frank called a conference and outlined their plan. Phil and Tony were eager and ready for action, and Nathoo Keeka spoke up excitedly.

“I can help. I have friends on the ship. We could visit them.”

Joe was enthusiastic. “That's great, Nathoo. I'll go with you.”

“Me, too,” Phil volunteered.

“Fair enough,” Tony said. “Three on board and two ashore. That leaves Frank and me to patrol the docks. Suit you, Frank?”

“Sure thing. Nathoo knows the ship and we'll familiarize ourselves thoroughly with the docks. That way we should get a pretty good idea of what's going on.”

The five went down to the dock to acquaint themselves with the area, streets, warehouses, fences, and the ships at anchor.

“Not much doing on Saturday afternoon,” Frank remarked. “Wonder who's responsible for that eyesore.” He pointed to pile of junk. “Look at that Chevy. Vultures sure have done a job on it. Not a door or a wheel left.”

“Not even a window,” Joe added. “Well, there's the
Bombay Batarang
at the pier. We'd better go aboard.”

“Don't forget,” Frank warned, “that you three are to rendezvous with us here on the dock this evening. If you don't show up on time, we'll have to assume that you've run into'trouble and come for you. Maybe we'll even call the police.”

“Why don't you give us more time?” Joe asked. “Let's say till the early-morning hours. We might be able to find out something by talking to the crew when they're off duty tonight.”

“Okay, let's make it dawn,” Frank agreed.

Joe, Phil, and Nathoo walked across the dock toward the
Bombay Batarang.
Behind the freighter a red barge bobbed up and down on the waves. Stevedores were busy transferring jute into the barge, moving the huge bales through side doors that gave access to a deep, dark interior.

The three climbed a steep ladder, with Nathoo Keeka in the lead.

“Here's hoping no one throws a bale of jute at us this time,” Joe thought, recalling the narrow brush with death he and Frank had encountered while boarding the Nanda
Kailash.

One by one they stepped onto the deck of the freighter. From the opposite side of the ship came the loud clang of hammers beating on metal.

“What's that noise?” Phil asked.

“Members of the crew knocking the rust off the hull,” Nathoo explained. “But allow me to describe the layout of the freighter before anyone interrupts us. After all, we might get separated, in which case you should know where you are on the ship and how to get off by the most expeditious route.

“The first deck—the one on which we are standing—has the chief officer's cabin, much like the one on the Nanda Kailash. The second deck has the captain's cabin.”

“Probably the nicest accommodations on the ship,” Joe remarked.

Nathoo grinned. “The third deck,” he went on, “is of the utmost importance because that is where the chart room and the bridge are located. I know the first mate in charge of navigation. His name is Ram Giga.”

He led the way up to the third deck via a series of metal stairs. Continuing on toward the bow, Nathoo and his companions reached the chart room.

This was a narrow cubicle with a high built-in worktable. Books on navigation and maps on the Atlantic coastline were scattered across it. The log told the daily story of the voyage from India. The echo sounder on one side indicated the depth of the water under the ship.

The two officers in the room looked up as the visitors entered. One was Ram Giga.

“Welcome, Nathoo!” he said with a wide smile. “Who are your friends?”

Nathoo introduced Phil and Joe and asked for permission to spend some time aboard the vessel.

“We will be glad to have you,” Mr. Giga replied.

His colleague, Assistant Engineer Luckman Kann, wore a sour expression. He seemed irritated by the arrival of strangers, and kept giving Joe and Phil venomous looks.

Ram Giga, an affable individual, willingly answered a few questions.

When Joe asked about cargo, Giga replied, “We have a hold full of many items for American-Indian trade.”

“What about mercury?” Joe asked.

“Part of the cargo is mercury. We will deliver it to the dock as soon as we can get it out of the hold. It is due to be carried off this evening.”

Joe and Phil had the feeling that Luckman Kann resented the chief mate being so free with information. “The mercury is only part of the cargo,” he declared harshly. “You may be more interested in some other things we are carrying, ivory statuettes and similar curios from the Malabar Coast, for example.”

Joe and Phil quickly agreed, in order to dispel any suspicion about their visit.

Ram Giga, ignoring Kann, went on, “We're late in unloading due to the dock strike that just ended. Usually we would have the mercury off by now, but the rest of the cargo had to come first. The men are working overtime tonight to get all the cargo ashore. Now I must get back to my duties. You are welcome to look around.”

“Is this wise?” Luckman Kann grumbled. “They will only be in the way!”

“I will amend the invitation, then,” Mr. Giga said mildly. “You may move around the ship freely as long as you do not interfere with the unloading.”

“Thank you. We will be most careful not to disturb the labor,” Nathoo assured him.

Motioning to Joe and Phil, he led them out of the chart room to the bridge, where he explained the technical gadgets.

“The high seat you see is for the pilot. The wheel may seem small to you, but it is the ship's brain, transmitting directions that maintain a true course. The gyrocompass next to it gives the bearing so that the navigator can be sure of his direction.”

“What's that orange dial in the low metal housing over there?” Joe asked.

“Radar. I cannot imagine how sailors ever made a safe voyage without it.”

Phil examined a large wheel equipped with a handle to turn it through the various positions around a circle.

“That is the telegraph,” Nathoo said. “Sends orders regarding speed to the engine room.”

“Better not spin it, Joe, or you'll have the engine room on the phone asking what's happening on the bridge,” Phil remarked jokingly.

Nathoo went on, “The small windows along that circle belong to the smoke indicator. Each window is connected to a vent from a different part of the ship. In case of fire, smoke is sucked into one of these holes and one can tell where the fire is. But we have seen enough here. Let us go down to the engine room.”

The three stood on oily catwalks, high above the throbbing engines. Narrow, slippery steps led down to the floor. After looking around for a while, Nathoo said, “We better stop sightseeing and get on the job.”

“Right,” said Phil. “Let's go back to the deck.” He was in the lead when they climbed up again. They made their way through a maze of passages until, on reaching the third deck, Phil suddenly realized that he was all alone. Joe and Nathoo were gone!

He went down again, but could not find them. “No point wasting time looking for them now,” he told himself. “I'll have another look at the bridge. We might have missed something the first time around.”

Finding the bridge empty, he began to examine the navigation instruments once more. That was the last he remembered. A heavy blow on the head knocked him unconscious, and he collapsed against the telegraph!

 

 

 

 

SLOWLY Phil regained consciousness. He heard voices conversing in a low key. He felt a wet cloth on his face, and the hard floor on the bridge underneath him.

Opening his eyes, he saw that several officers were grouped around him. As they swam into focus, he realized that one was the captain of the
Bombay Batarang.

Phil got to his feet with the assistance of willing hands. “What happened?” he asked weakly.

The captain placed a hand on his shoulder to steady him. “Do not be too concerned about what happened. The main thing at the moment is to be sure that you are all right. I am having you moved to my cabin to recuperate.”

“Someone hit me over the head!” Phil declared.

“Yes. With a blunt instrument. In falling, you struck the telegraph handle, spinning the wheel and alerting the engine room to the fact that something was wrong on the bridge. I rushed up here and found you lying in a heap. You have a headache?”

“Awful,” Phil replied, and everything began to spin again.

While he was being put to bed in the captain's cabin, Frank and Tony were on a back street, maintaining surveillance from a doorway about a block from the piers. All had been quiet as far as they could tell.