“Welcome aboard!” one of them boomed.
“We've been waiting for you!” the other intoned menacingly and stood up. He was well over six feet tall!
Frank and Joe stared at the two intruders apprehensively and backed toward the door. “Who are you?” Joe demanded. “And what are you doing here?”
“Mummies!” the tall figure hissed. “We're mummies, and we've come to keep you company!” With that, both pulled off their sheets.
Frank and Joe stared in surprise. “Chet and Biff!” Frank exploded. “How on earth did you get here?”
Biff grinned. “We got to talking after the baseball game. Since we had no jobs for the summer, we called the
Admiral Halsey
and asked if they needed any extra hands.”
“And they hired you a day before sailing time over the telephone?” Joe was incredulous.
“We-e-l-ll,” Chet said sheepishly, “we spoke to the captain and told him we were friends of yours. Since we still had our union licenses from the time we worked in the Merchant Marine, he said okay.”
The Hardys burst out laughing. “What a great idea!” Frank sputtered.
“I'm the captain's radioman,” Biff said, “and Chet's a waiter.”
“That suits his style,” Joe chortled.
“You bet,” Chet said. “See you at the captain's table tonight!” With that, the two left.
At dinner, Captain Baker and his guests were amused at the spectacle of Chet Morton, who wore a waiter's jacket about two sizes too small. He could barely button the jacket across his stomach, and the cuffs fell inches short of his wrists. The shoulders were so tight that he had trouble balancing a tray.
“It was the best we could do for him,” the captain said. “Our last waiter was small and thin. So his jacket doesn't fit Mr. Morton too well.”
Chet bustled back and forth, serving the courses and carrying empty dishes away. At the end of the meal, he piled the last china and cutlery on the tray, lifted it over his head, and moved toward the galley, trying to maintain his footing as the ship rose and fell in the ocean swell.
He got through the door. Then those at the table heard a terrific crash punctuated by the sound of dishes breaking and silverware hitting the floor.
A moment later Chet peered around the door. He was red-faced and embarrassed. “Sorry about that,” he mumbled.
“That's all right, Mr. Morton,” said Captain Baker. “It takes every sailor a little while to get his sea legs.”
Chet was soothed by the captain's words. He grinned and vanished into the galley.
That night the Hardys went to sleep early. In the small hours, during the freighter's graveyard shift, there was a furious rapping sound at their porthole window. Startled, Frank and Joe sat up.
In the moonlight, they saw a face glaring at themâthe face of a mummy!
6
A Raging Storm
Joe leaped out of his bed and Frank swung down from the upper bunk. They rushed to the porthole, but the mummy's face jerked to one side and disappeared.
Frank threw the window open and poked his head through. A slim man in sailor's clothing was swiftly climbing up a rope attached to the railing above! When he reached the top, he vaulted onto the deck.
“We're too late to catch him,” Frank said grimly. “He'll be gone by the time we get up there.”
“Let's investigate anyway,” Joe suggested. “Maybe we'll find a clue that'll tell us who he is. Or perhaps somebody spotted him.”
The Hardys dressed quickly and went up on deck. The freighter was plowing steadily forward through the Atlantic waves in the predawn darkness. A light showed on the bridge where the pilot kept the vessel on its course.
Frank and Joe circled around, then climbed to the bridge. “Anything moving on deck?” Joe asked the pilot.
“Not a thing,” he responded. “Everyone's asleep, I guess.”
The Hardys descended to the deck again and circled from bow to stern and back, past the captain's cabin and the lifeboats. In the darkness, they noticed a man slinking along toward the front of the freighter. They hurried after him and reached the bow just as he did. He whirled around and stared at them. It was Butch Londy!
“Hi,” Frank said. “Nice night for a walk.”
Londy smirked. “It sure is. This is how I get my exercise.”
“What about climbing up and down the side of the ship on a rope?”
“You're a real joker, ain't ya?” Londy scowled.
“How come you're not sleeping?” Frank asked.
“I'm on the graveyard watch. You think I'd go walking for fun in the middle of the night? How come
you're
out here?”
“We're walking for fun.”
“Walk all you want, but don't bother me,” Londy grumbled, then moved along the deck and vanished into the darkness.
“I can't figure this out,” Frank said to his brother. “This is the second time we've been visited by someone wrapped up like a mummy. Maybe the same person. He could have followed us from the museum-I wonder if it's Butch Londy!”
Joe shook his head. “Londy's bigger than the man in the museum. But whoever he is, he's trying to frighten us. I don't think he wants us to go to Egypt. We'd better watch our step or we'll end up overboard!”
In the morning, the Hardys reported to Captain Baker about the mummy face at their porthole.
The captain was shocked. “I have no idea who it could have been!” he admitted.
“Have most of your crew sailed with you before?” Joe inquired.
“Some have, some haven't.”
“How about Butch Londy?”
“He's new. Do you suspect him?”
Joe shrugged. “Maybe.”
“I'll keep an eye on him,” the captain promised.
Later, the Hardys met Biff and Chet. Neither of their chums could tell them anything about the weird episode, but both agreed to keep the sailor under surveillance as much as they could.
“We might even pick up a clue from other people because we're members of the crew,” Biff pointed out. “They might say something in front of us that they wouldn't mention in front of you.”
Frank nodded. “Thanks for the help, fellows.”
The four agreed to meet before lunch and compare notes. Frank and Joe's search had been fruitless, but Biff had hit pay dirt. “Follow me!” he said excitedly. “I want to show you what I found.”
He led the way to a lifeboat and raised the tarpaulin. Inside lay a rubber mask shaped and painted like the face of a mummy!
“Our suspect dropped his face!” Frank cried out, picking up the rubber disguise. He turned it over and noticed a tag bearing the word “Luxor” inside.
“Luxor is in Egypt!” he said. “Maybe that's where he got it.”
“But we still don't know who he is,” Joe pointed out. “Let's set a trap for him. We'll leave the mask in here and keep the lifeboat under surveillance. Then we nab the guy when he comes back for the mask.”
“Terrific idea,” Frank agreed.
“We'll spell you when we're off duty,” Chet offered. “This way we can watch around the clock!”
During the days that followed, the four boys met regularly to see if one of them had learned anything. However, their reports were always negative. The man they were looking for never returned to the lifeboat to retrieve the mummy mask.
“He must suspect something,” Frank concluded. “That's why he's steering clear of the place.”
The voyage continued without incident. The Hardys checked the mummy crate several times a day and always found it untouched. They also watched Butch Londy. However, the surly sailor seemed to be performing his duties aboard ship like any other member of the crew, and they never saw him do anything suspicious.
Near the Strait of Gibraltar, Captain Baker suddenly ordered all hands to their emergency stations. “We're running into a storm,” he announced tersely over the loudspeaker. “Photos from a space satellite show it will be a big one, approaching hurricane force. So batten down the hatches. We'll have to ride it out.”
The Hardys volunteered to assist the crew in preparing the freighter for the storm. Chet was released from the galley to help hand out boots, oilskin coats, and floppy hats with brims extending down over the neck to keep the water out. The captain ordered Biff to stand by to radio an SOS if it should be necessary.
Meanwhile, the waves grew higher and higher. The sky became dark, and rain began to fall. Soon the full force of the storm burst over the ship!
The
Admiral Halsey
pitched up and down in the violent, seething swells of the Atlantic. She rolled so heavily from side to side that she seemed about to turn over. Torrents of spray whipped by high winds swept across the deck. The rain fell in sheets, and bolts of lightning flashed through black thun derheads in the sky.
The crewmen clung to the railings as they made their way along the deck. They had to shout at the top of their voices to be heard over the screaming wind, the booming thunder, and the sound of gigantic waves breaking over the bow and making the ship shudder.
Frank and Joe were assigned to help see that the hatch over the hold remained intact. If it went, the Atlantic would pour down into the hold, ruining the cargo and endangering the ship.
Joe was worried about the mummy. “The coffin is bound to be knocked around,” he said tensely. “I hope the old pharaoh doesn't break!”
“He's wrapped up pretty tightly,” Frank said. “I think heâllâhey, here comes Chet!”
Their rotund pal had been ordered up from his duties belowdecks to help fasten a lifeboat near the bow that was being torn from its moorings by the force of the wind and the waves. He was wearing an outsized oilskin, boots fastened above his knees, and a souâwester tied by a strap under his plump chin. Water dripped down over his face, and he kept wiping it away by running his hands across his cheeks and his nose.
In spite of the storm the Hardys could not help laughing at Chet's appearance. But instead of joining in with his usual good humor, Chet looked at them mournfully. He felt nauseous and he wished fervently that the violent motion would stop.
“I think Chet's getting a bit green around the gills,” Frank said to Joe. Their friend, however, did not give in to his weakness. Bravely he assisted three other crewmen in forcing the lifeboat back into place and they all lashed it to stanchions on the deck.
Chet went to the railing, playing out a rope behind him. It was his job to wind the rope around the railing to give the lifeboat greater stability. He had just finished making a sailor's knot when a tremendous wave broke over the bow and surged along the deck.
The wave knocked Chet off his feet and swept him overboard!
7
Surprise Message
While the Hardys were watching in horror, Chet plunged into the boiling sea! A moment later he came to the surface. His souâwester had been swept away, and his head bobbed up and down in the waves. Frantically he struggled to keep from drowning, but the oilskin around his body constricted his arms.
Frank wasted no time. He grabbed a life preserver from underneath the railing and tossed it toward their pal. It was attached to a long rope. Frank wound the end of it tightly around his hand.
Joe, meanwhile, had stripped off his rain gear and was about to jump in after Chet. But Frank held him back.
“Don't be foolish! You can't do anything for him down there. Look, he's getting closer to the life ring.” Frank clenched his fists tensely as he watched a wave carry the white and red life preserver away from Chet, then brought it closer again.
“Oh, come on, Chet!” he cried. “Grab it!”
For a moment neither Chet nor the life ring could be seen. But then their pal surfaced, clinging to the preserver as tightly as he could.
“Thank goodness!” Frank sighed in relief as he and Joe began to pull the ring toward the ship. Other crew members, meanwhile, had become aware of the accident and pitched in, helping the Hardys to raise their load. Chet clung to the ring with all his might, but his arms were getting weaker and weaker. He was about to let go in utter exhaustion when helpful hands grabbed him and pulled him over the railing. With a gasp, Chet collapsed on the deck.
“Quick, take him inside and dry him off,” one of the sailors told Frank and Joe. “We'll watch the hatch for you.”
The Hardys half led, half dragged their pal to their cabin. Chet was shivering from the cold water. His skin was deathly white and he felt as if he had swallowed half the Atlantic Ocean.
He tried to speak while Frank and Joe took off his wet clothes and wrapped towels and blankets around him. “Th-thanks, guys. I almost didn't make it!”
“You gave us a pretty good scare, buddy,” Joe said. “If we had to lose anyone, I'd rather lose the mummy.
Chet grinned weakly. “Considering what the mummy is worth, I'm flattered!”
By now the storm was beginning to subside. After the Hardys had put Chet into Joe's bunk to rest, they returned to the deck and helped the crew stow away the equipment. The hatches were opened, and soon the
Admiral Halsey
was once again sailing through placid seas.
When they had finished their work, the boys went into the hold for an inspection of the mummy crate. To their dismay, one of the metal bands had snapped open, and a board was hanging loose!
“Frank!” Joe gasped. “Do you think somebody fooled with the crate?
“Let's see if the mummy's okay,” Frank suggested. After inspecting the padding underneath the loose board, he shrugged in frustration. “There's really no way to tell unless we break the other seals, and we're not supposed to do that!”