“We're getting something!” Joe exclaimed.
“It
must
be the signal from the
Yellow Parrot,”
Frank said.
The pilot watched the instrument. “The needle is reacting sluggishly,” he observed. “The ship's quite a distance away. But we can determine the direction.”
“Have any idea about how far?” asked Joe.
“No. But I'll fly a
time-distance
problem. It will only give us a rough estimate. However, that's better than nothing.”
As Tiller began the maneuver, he explained that the procedure involved flying in a direction which would be exactly at
right angles
to that of the ship. “The heading is then maintained until the radio compass shows at least a 10-degree change in relative bearing,” he said.
The boys listened eagerly as Tiller went on, “This change in bearing, together with the time flown in order to obtain it, is used in a very simple mathematical formula to get the distance to the source of the signal, or in this case, the
Yellow Parrot.”
Several minutes passed. Then the pilot jotted down some figures.
“According to my calculation,” he announced finally, “the ship is from three hundred and fifty to four hundred miles away.”
Joe let out a low whistle. “Does your plane have enough fuel to make it there and back?” he queried.
“Barely,” Tiller replied. “But I have a long-range tank I can install in the cabin. It'll give us plenty of reserve.”
“There's one snag,” Joe interjected. “Won't the tank cut down the number of passengers you can carry?”
“Yes,” the pilot agreed. “I'll be limited to two.”
“Dad and Chet won't be happy to hear that,” Frank muttered.
Tiller returned to the airport. After parking his airplane, he asked, “When do you want to make this flight?”
“Tomorrow, if possible,” Frank said. “But I want to be sure you realize the danger. The crewmen aboard the
Yellow Parrot
are rough customers. If we should run into trouble and get caughtâ”
“Don't worry about me,” Tiller interrupted.
The boys rejoined their father and Chet at the hotel and told them about their flight.
“And you say the long-range tank will permit only two passengers,” Mr. Hardy said. “I've a feeling you'll suggest that Chet and I go and you two stay behind.” He winked at Frank.
Chet let out a whoop and patted Mr. Hardy on the back.
“Well, not exactly,” Joe said.
“We know the
Yellow Parrot,”
Frank explained. “It's better that we go.”
Chet sat down, looking disappointed.
“If you locate the ship, you must promise to be careful,” Mr. Hardy told his sons. “Don't try boarding the freighter. Get what information Ellis has and return here as soon as possible.”
“We will,” Joe promised.
It was late the following morning when Tiller telephoned the boys to tell them that he had just finished installing the long-range tank.
“That's great,” Frank said. “Let's plan to take off a few minutes before Ellis is scheduled to begin sending his signal.”
“Okay.”
Mr. Hardy and Chet accompanied Frank and Joe to the airport. As departure time neared, Tiller started the engines and his two passengers climbed aboard the plane.
“Good luck!” Mr. Hardy shouted above the noise of the propellers. “And remember what I told you!”
His sons waved from side window as Tiller taxied toward the active runway.
Soon the amphibian was climbing out to sea. Then it turned on a southerly heading.
“It's exactly two o'clock,” Joe announced, glancing at his watch. “Ellis should be transmitting.”
The pilot switched on his radio compass receiver and tuned to the proper frequency. A low, humming sound crackled from the speaker. Gradually the needle of the instrument started to seek out the source of the signal.
“A course of 165 degrees should take us in the right direction for the moment,” Tiller said. “The indication will become more accurate as we get closer to the ship.”
Three hours went by. The boys watched the radio compass as it grew more and more sensitive to Ellis's signal.
“I'm going to work another
time-distance
problem,” the pilot declared.
He swung the plane onto a new heading, and within a few minutes, completed his calculation. “We've got about eighty miles to go,” he concluded.
The boys tingled with excitement. Less than half an hour had gone by when Frank pointed directly ahead.
“Cumulus clouds!” he exclaimed. “That could mean an island or a group of islands.”
“Right,” Tiller agreed. “And according to our radio compass, we're headed toward them.”
As they continued, small rocky islets began to slide beneath them. Ahead, a mass of somewhat larger islands came into view.
“We're getting a strong signal,” the pilot said. “We must be very near the ship.”
“Stay on your present course and keep going,” Frank said. “If the crew spots our plane, we don't want them to know we're searching for the
Yellow Parrot.”
An instant later the needle of the radio compass whirled around and pointed toward the tail of the aircraft.
“We've just passed over the ship!” Tiller shouted.
The boys quickly scanned the islands below. They saw no sign of the freighter, but noticed an odd-shaped island with a narrow inlet that was heavily covered with vegetation.
“I've a hunch the
Yellow Parrot
is hidden down there,” Joe said.
“So do I,” Frank agreed. “Let's land and take a look.”
Tiller continued on his original course for a few more minutes, then descended to within a few feet of the water and turned back toward the islands.
“We'll stay down low to avoid being spotted,” he told them. “Then I'll land about a mile out and taxi the rest of the way.”
“Okay,” Frank said. “The island we want is in the center of the group. After dark, Joe and I will use your rubber raft and paddle to the inlet we saw.”
After a smooth water landing, Tiller and the boys settled down to await sunset.
Tiller reached behind his seat. “Here's some chow I brought,” he said. “And over there are cans of soda.”
“Am I glad you thought of food,” Joe replied with a chuckle. “This flight sure stimulated my appetite!”
After they had eaten, they talked until it was dark. Then the pilot inflated the raft and eased it over the side.
“Lots of luck,” he said in a hushed voice as Frank and Joe started toward their objective.
The next hour was spent weaving in and out of a series of small islands. Finally the Hardys had the inlet in sight. They could make out the vague image of a ship anchored beneath a camouflage net covered with vegetation.
“It's the
Yellow Parrot!”
Joe said excitedly.
“Let's paddle closer,” Frank whispered. “But we'd better stay near the shore for cover.”
They came within a hundred yards of the ship and Frank's right hand, gripping the paddle, dipped deep into the water. Their eyes were strained at the figures moving about the deck.
“We can't make a sound,” Frank whispered. “Feather your paddle in the water, Joe, don't lift it out!”
“Roger. I see they have guards posted near the rail.”
Just then a sharp whack hit the side of the raft. There was a swishing sound in the water, and something grabbed Frank's paddle just below his fingers.
“A shark!” he cried out. He had hardly uttered the warning when a huge dorsal fin knifed under the bottom of the raft, half-lifting it out of the water. The boys tried to hang on, but were hurled over the lip and into the briny sea.
Silence was now out of the question. Frank and Joe knew that they must kick, scream, and flail their arms in an effort to scare the shark away.
“Swim for it!” Joe shrieked.
The shark made another pass, brushing past him with a tail slap which made Joe feel as if the end of the world had come.
The Hardys were too terror-stricken to notice what was going on at the ship's deck. The noise had alerted the crew. Bright beams of light pierced the darkness and swept toward the raft.
“Do you hear something?” yelled a crewman aboard the freighter.
“Someone's out there!” shouted another. “And a shark's after him!”
“Get a rifle!” came a third voice.
As Frank and Joe struggled frantically to reach the shore, a shot whizzed past Frank and hit the shark with a thud.
Joe, who was behind his brother, saw the monster roll belly up and stain the sea with red, in the glare of the spotlight.
An instant later the boys reached a patch of sandy beach. They scrambled ashore and glanced around for a place to hide.
“Head for cover!” Frank whispered, pointing to a clump of rocks nearby.
Before they could make a run for it, a group of bronze-skinned natives seemed to appear from nowhere. They quickly surrounded the youths. There was no escape!
CHAPTER XIX
The Pirate King
THE Hardys were seized and marched off. The group walked along the beach for a short distance, then turned onto a trail leading inland.
“Where are you taking us?” Joe demanded.
The natives did not speak. Instead, they gestured to the boys to keep moving.
After traveling about a mile, they came to a village tucked in a valley ahead. The community was comprised of small stone buildings, boxlike in shape. Coconut palms dotted the area.
In the center of the village was a medieval-looking structure. The boys were led toward it.
“Look!” Joe exclaimed in disbelief.
Two guards flanked a set of heavy wooden, arch-shaped doors with massive iron hinges. They wore conquistador-type helmets and breastplates, which bore the bright-red symbol of the twisted claw!
At a signal from one of the natives, the guards pushed open the doors and ordered the prisoners inside.
The interior of the building was magnificent. The walls soared upwards and met in a series of gentle arches. These, combined with towering columns and polished stone floors, gave the area a palatial appearance.
“Amazing!” Joe whispered.
“I could do without it!” Frank muttered.
They were marched toward another set of wooden doors flanked by helmeted guards. On the wall above were carved the letters ETC.
“Empire of the Twisted Claw!” Frank muttered, recalling the rare volume they had seen in the New York bookstore.
The doors were pushed open to reveal a large room which looked much like a medieval banquet hall. Seated on the far side on a throne was a man wearing a fur-collared red robe. His aquiline nose jutted out from between a set of dark, glacial eyes. Standing to his right was Rawlin, first mate of the
Yellow Parrot!
The man rose and stared at the boys menacingly. “What have we here?” he shouted. “Prisoners?”
Rawlin gazed at Frank and Joe as if he were seeing ghosts. “I know those kids!” he yelled. “They're the Hardy boys!”
“Sons of Fenton Hardy the detective?” asked the man in the robe.
“Yeah!” Rawlin answered. “They sailed aboard our ship once. I didn't know who they were at the time. Then we got the message from the
Black Parrot
saying that the loot from the State Museum heist had been found by the Hardys.”
“Tell me more!” the man in the robe said in an ice-cold voice.
“Well, I put two and two together. I asked for their descriptions and, sure enough, it checked with the kids who jumped ship at Tambio.”
“News travels fast, doesn't it!” snapped Joe.
The red-robed man seated himself again in chilly composure. “I am Cartoll, king of this island,” he announced. “I demand to know how you got here!”
“You don't really expect us to tell you!” Frank shot back.
“We were sightseeing,” Joe wisecracked. “It's a nice island.”
Rawlin fumed. “Let me take care of these guys!”
“Calm yourself,” Cartoll ordered with a smirk. “I admire audacity. However, I've no time to question them now.” He clapped his hands.
Two guards responded. “Take the prisoners to the east tower room!” Cartoll commanded.
“I still think we oughta find out how they got here first!” Rawlin protested. “There might be others!”
“It's obvious they came by boat or plane,” Cartoll concluded. “Have your men conduct a search of the area as soon as it is light.”
“If only there was some way to warn Tiller,” Frank thought frantically as he and his brother were led away by the guards.
The east tower room was situated at the top of a long, winding stone stairway. One of the guards unlocked the door and ordered the boys inside. The other one brought some bread and a jug of water, then the door was shut behind them.
When their eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, they were startled to see an elderly man with shaggy gray hair and a beard seated at a wooden table.
“Are you prisoners of Cartoll too?” he asked in a weak voice. “I have not seen you before.”
“Yes,” Frank replied glumly. “And who are you?”
“Leroy Ellis.”
Frank and Joe looked at each other in surprise, then Frank introduced himself and his brother. “Any relation to Clay Ellis?” he added.
“He's my son. You know him?”
“We've met him not long ago. Why are you a prisoner?”