The Twisted Claw (8 page)

Enraged, he looked up and shouted at Joe. “Hey, you! Come here!”

Joe quickly climbed down the ladder. Frank, who had been working nearby, ran over to see what had happened.

“What's the meaning of this?” Rawlin roared.

“It was an accident,” Joe said.

The man's face reddened. “I don't believe you! I think you saw me coming and dropped that can on purpose. You'll—!”

“Now wait a minute,” Frank interrupted.

“Shut up! You stay out of this!” Rawlin shouted. He turned to Joe and grabbed the boy by the lapel of his jacket. “I oughta wipe up the deck with you!”

In a sudden move Joe broke away from the man's grip.

“What's going on here?” a voice boomed.

The boys turned to see a burly man of medium height approaching. He had a large graying mustache and cold blue eyes.

“Hello, Cap'n,” Rawlin said. “These two kids just signed on. The blond-haired one almost hit me with a can of paint.”

“That true?” the officer demanded as he glared at Joe.

“It was an accident, sir.”

“That's what he says,” snarled Rawlin. “And what's more, he tried to get tough with me just now.”

“Oh, yeah?” the captain growled. “Lacks discipline, eh? A couple of days on bread and water in the brig will take the fight out of him.”

Frank pleaded with the men on his brother's behalf. It was useless. Joe was taken to the brig below decks. It was a small enclosure with a door of metal bars. No guards were posted.

Late that night Frank secretly made his way to the ship's galley and collected some food. Then he sneaked quietly to the brig.

“Joe!” he whispered. “I brought some chow.”

“Great! I'm starved.”

Frank passed the food through the bars and watched as Joe ate heartily. Then they discussed the situation.

“I hate leaving you in there,” Frank said. “But if you were to break out, it would only rile the captain further and possibly ruin our chances to investigate the ship.”

“Don't worry,” Joe replied. “I won't upset the applecart.” He forced a grin. “Just keep the food coming every night and I'll be able to put up with anything.”

“It should only be for a couple of days,” Frank assured him. In the meantime, I'll get our investigation underway.”

“What do you plan to do first?”

“Examine those logs we saw in the hold. I've a hunch that's not an ordinary pile of lumber.”

“What about the warning note? Any idea who wrote it?”

“No, not yet,” Frank admitted. “But if we were recognized by someone aboard this ship, then I think the note was meant to be a friendly warning. Otherwise he would have turned us over to the captain by now.”

“If you're right, I wish that that someone would come out into the open. I don't like having mystery friends for too long.”

Frank agreed. “Now I'd better be on my way. See you tomorrow night.”

“Good luck.”

Frank began to edge his way in the direction of the cargo hold. As he rounded the comer of a passageway, he suddenly found himself face to face with Rawlin.

“What are you roaming around for?” the first mate demanded.

“Well—er—I was just getting acquainted with the layout of the ship,” Frank stammered.

“Get back to your quarters!” Rawlin commanded.

Crestfallen, Frank obeyed, but decided that he would try again the following night. He fell into his bunk and was soon asleep. To him, it seemed only seconds later that he was being shaken awake.

“Up on deckl” a hefty crewman yelled.

Frank pulled on his pants and quickly followed the man up the ladder. Dawn was just breaking as Rawlin's voice boomed through the crisp, fresh morning air.

“Everyone's to carry on with his regular duties! Frank Karlsen is to report to me!”

Frank went up to the first mate.

“I'm assigning you to deck watch,” Rawlin told him. “Four hours on, and four hours off. Now report to the bridge.”

Frank was bored with his new duty. But what bothered him even more was the fact that he had to remain in one spot and could not wander about to search for information.

It was well after midnight when he was relieved from his third watch of the day. He hurried off and repeated his secret journey to the brig with food for Joe.

“I thought you'd forgotten me, Frank,” Joe said jokingly.

“Never, old buddy.” Frank told him about his new assignment and his encounter with Rawlin the night before.

“That guy seems to be everywhere at once,” Joe remarked. “When do you plan to try again?”

“Now. I noticed a storm to the east when I left watch. Rawlin is on the bridge keeping an eye on it. He won't be back this way tonight.”

The ship began to roll gently. “The sea is beginning to get a bit rough,” Joe commented.

“I'd better head for the cargo hold,” Frank said. “There's no telling how much weather we're in for.”

“Be careful,” Joe warned. “And if this storm gets too rough, ask the captain to let me out of here.”

Frank nodded. As he went down the passageway toward the cargo hold, he heard the clamor of footsteps ahead and looked around for a place to hide. He spotted the door of a small equipment locker, opened it, and ducked inside.

“Come on! Come on!” a crewman yelled. “Rawlin wants us forward. Looks like we're in for some real weather!”

Frank estimated that about half a dozen men rushed past his hiding place. Fortunately they were headed away from the cargo hold.

He crept out of the locker and reached the cargo hold. By now the intensity of the storm had increased and the ship rolled violently.

Frank took out his flashlight and directed its beam toward the pile of logs. As he did, the ship lurched under the impact of the heavy sea. The logs broke loose from their bindings and came avalanching toward him!

LOUD, crashing sounds thundered through the hold as the logs hurtled across the deck.

Frank looked up and spotted a steel girder that spanned the beam of the ship. Making a desperate leap, he grabbed it and swung his body upward. The logs rolled beneath him.

Crash! Bang!
They collided with the bulkhead on the portside, then tumbled back across the deck in the opposite direction as the ship listed to starboard. The cycle was repeated again and again —solid thuds with an occasional hollow boom.

As Frank clung to the girder with all his strength, the storm seemed to become even more violent.

“Can't hang on much longer,” he said to himself. “But if I let go—”

The lights in the hold were turned on. Several crewmen poured in through the hatchway. For a moment they stared at the logs hurtling back and forth across the deck. then set about tying them down again.

Frank watched as they gradually brought the situation under control. Then he released his grip on the girder and dropped to the floor.

“What are you doin' in here?” shouted one of the men.

At that instant the captain entered the hold. “Everything under control?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. But we were wonderin' what this kid's up to. He was hangin' from that girder when we got here.”

The captain glared. “Your place is up forward!”

Frank frantically searched his mind for an explanation. “I'd just gotten off deck watch and couldn't sleep,” he said. “So I decided to take a walk.”

“In this storm?”

“The weather wasn't too bad when I started out,” Frank answered. “Then it got worse. I heard a lot of noise here in the hold and wanted to see what it was.”

“Why didn't you call for help when you saw that the logs had broken loose?”

“I was going to, sir,” Frank replied. “But when the logs rolled toward me, I jumped for the girder.”

The captain rubbed his chin dubiously for a few seconds. Finally he accepted Frank's explanation and ordered him to return to his quarters.

By daylight the storm had subsided and the
Yellow Parrot
was churning its way through calm waters. Frank was returning from deck watch when he saw his brother walking down the passageway toward him.

“Hi, Joe!” he called out. “When were you sprung from the brig?”

“A few hours ago. But they put me to work right away in the engine room. I'm bushed.”

“I don't have to be back on watch till midnight,” Frank said. “Let's get some sleep. Then we'll plan our next move.”

The boys slept soundly for several hours. After a late lunch in the galley Frank told his brother that he was still determined to examine the logs.

“I'm with you,” Joe said. “But you've already been caught there once.”

“That's a chance we'll have to take,” Frank told him. “Come on.”

They edged their way toward the hold and were elated to find no crewmen in the area.

“It's pitch black in here,” Joe whispered as the two entered the hold and closed the hatch behind them.

“We don't want to turn on the lights,” Frank said. “Use your flashlight.”

They directed their beams of light at the pile of logs.

“Funny thing,” Frank muttered.

“What's that?”

“I might have just imagined it, but when the logs rolled back and forth across the deck, some of them sounded as if they weren't completely solid. They sounded hollow.”

“You mean,” Joe began, “that the—” A faint noise caused him to stop abruptly.

“Switch off your light!” Frank hissed.

The boys' pulses quickened as they stood motionless and waited in the darkness. Then they heard the noise again. This time it came from a point directly behind them.

The Hardys whirled around. At the same instant they were blinded by an intensely bright flash of light.

“I'm trying to help you!” a man said. “Stop your investigation. Get off this ship as soon as you can!”

Before either boy could question the man, there was the sound of the hatchway door being slammed shut as he exited from the hole.

“What now?” Joe asked.

“We'd better get out of here,” Frank said. “That guy might've been spotted leaving. He could bring someone to check this place out.”

The boys hurried to the hatch. They eased open the door, saw that the area was clear, and darted out. Back in their quarters, they discussed what had happened.

“Whoever it was,” Joe remarked, “he must be the one who wrote the warning note.”

“Without question,” his brother replied. He paused for a moment. “But I'd like to know what his game is. If he knows who we are, why is he being so mysterious about it?”

“Could be he's holding out for money,” Joe suggested. “I mean, he might be planning to demand payment in exchange for being quiet.”

Frank pondered this. “I doubt it. If that was his motive, he certainly would have approached us with a deal by now.”

“What's our next move?”

“Let's go on deck and take a walk around the ship. We might come up with a lead.”

Strolling along in a nonchalant manner, the Hardys watched as the sailors went about their duties. As they were passing the radio room, Frank suddenly grabbed his brother's arm.

“Listen!” he whispered excitedly.

The door was partially open. Inside, two men were engaged in conversation. One of the voices belonged to the stranger they had encountered in the hold!

“Good grief!” Joe exclaimed in a low tone. “That must be the guy we're after!”

“Looks that way!”

A few seconds later the two men appeared in the doorway, still talking. One of them looked like an ordinary sailor. The other was a lean, red-haired young man with pleasant features. Apparently he was the ship's radio operator. It was his voice the Hardys had identified.

“Okay,” the crewman told him. “I'll have the antenna checked right away.”

“Good.” The young man turned and went into the radio room. Before he could shut the door, the boys dashed in after him.

“Hello,” Frank said. “Mind if we have a few words with you?”

There was a pause before the startled operator spoke. His face had turned pale. “You—you want to talk to me? What about?” he stammered.

“What's your name?” Frank asked.

“Clay—Clay Ellis. I'm the ship's radioman.”

Joe got straight to the point. “Writing warning notes and creeping around dark cargo holds must be a hobby of yours.”

“I—I don't know what you mean,” Ellis countered.

Frank, meanwhile, had peered around the room and spotted a camera flash gun on a shelf.

“Is this yours?” he asked, picking up the object.

“Er—no—one of the crew must have left it here,” the operator said nervously.

Frank looked closely at the base of the flash gun and noticed the letters C.E. scratched on the metal surface. “This is a coincidence,” he commented. “These seem to be your initials.”

Perspiration oozed from Ellis's forehead. “All right! It's mine. So what?”

“You took our picture in the cargo hold a little while ago,” Joe accused.

The young man let out a deep sigh. “Guess there's no sense in trying to lie to you,” he muttered. “I didn't take your photograph, just wanted not to be seen. That's why I blinded you with the flash gun. You see, I know you're the Hardy boys.”