Part 11

“Yes,” nodded the younger boy, promptly. “It might be that someone is ill there, and if that is the case we wouldn’t want to pass by without finding it out. Sure, go ahead.”

They were now close beside the freighter, and Don stepped to the rail. As the boys had noted before, boxes and fragments of rope lay tumbled about the deck, and the freighter was in anything but shipshape condition. The door to the companionway was open.

“Ahoy!” yelled Don, cupping his hands. “Anybody aboard the _Black Mummy_?”

They waited for a moment, Jim turning off the motor, but no reply came back. The deck of the freighter remained deserted, and the wheel continued to turn back and forth. Don repeated his hail but there was no answer.

“Well,” remarked Terry. “I guess we’ll have to go aboard.”

“Yes,” agreed Don. “We’ll have to tie up to the freighter, too. Our anchor cable won’t be long enough to do any good out here, so we’ll have to moor on to the rail of the freighter. Give her a little power, Jim, and I’ll tie fast.”

Jim gave the Lassie a little power and drove the bow toward the stern of the _Black Mummy_. The rail of the freighter was three or four feet higher than that of the sloop, but Don waited until the bow of the sloop was almost to the ship.

“Give it the reverse,” he directed, and Jim sent the motor into reverse. With its speed visibly slackened the sloop approached the rail and Don threw the painter over the rail and made fast. Jim shut off the motor and the sloop rode gently beside the bigger ship.

“Well, let’s get aboard,” said Jim. “We’d better watch our step, however. No knowing what we may find on that ship.”

With hearts beating the least bit rapidly the three boys swung over the rail of the freighter and dropped onto the deck. They made their way across the deck, past the wheel and came to the companionway. Don called down.

“Anybody aboard?”

Only a mocking echo came back to him and they began their climb down the ladder. They found themselves in a passageway, with the galley back of them and cabins on each side. One look into the galley showed them that the crew had evidently left in a hurry, for pots and pans were scattered right and left over the sink, the table and the floor. Some scraps of food had been partially devoured by rats and the refuse lay on the floor.

“Well, there’s something funny here,” said Don, as he walked down the passageway.

They looked into the rooms, to find each one of them empty. The largest of all had evidently been a bunkroom for the crew.

“Must have had a crew of twelve or more,” decided Jim, after counting the bunks.

There now remained only the hold to explore and they prepared to descend. The hold was reached by a trap door at the end of the passageway, although there was a large door on the deck opening to it. The boys raised the trap and looked down.

“Awfully dark down there,” Terry remarked. “Too bad we didn’t bring a light with us.”

“Yes, it is,” Don agreed, beginning to descend. “But we’ll just give a glance around. We won’t be down there long enough to need a light.”

The short ladder ended abruptly and the boys found themselves at the bottom of the hold. In the darkness they could see lumber piled around them. It had been originally stacked high, but the movement of the waves had caused it to fall together in the middle, forming a complicated and tangled barrier.

“Just as I figured,” said Jim. “It’s a lumber barge. But whoever stacked that lumber made a lousy job of it. It should have been braced, and instead of that it was allowed to stand by itself. Now look at it!”

They decided that lumber was the only thing to be found in the hold, and turned to leave. At that moment there came a terrific pounding somewhere near them. Startled, the boys looked at each other.

“Hey, what’s that?” gasped Jim.

“Must be something knocking on the bottom of the boat,” guessed Terry.

The knocking came again, and the boys listened keenly. Don turned startled eyes toward the others.

“What do you make of it?” Jim whispered.

“Someone, or something, is down under those boards!” was Don’s reply.

For a moment Jim stared at him. “What are we going to do?”

“We’ll have to go back to the _Lassie_, bring lanterns and go to work on that tangle of lumber,” Don answered.

_22. The Secret of the Freighter_

The boys left the hold of the freighter and made their way over the deck to the sloop. What little light there had been was now dying down and a wall of darkness was sweeping over the ocean. Unnoticed even by themselves, a silence had fallen over the boys.

They got lanterns in the hold of the _Lassie_ and paused long enough to light them. When this had been done they once more climbed aboard the freighter, their lights twinkling out against the darkness. The freighter was gently pitching and tossing, and the loose gear was sliding all over the deck.

“I guess I’ll lash that wheel down,” Don decided, as they crossed the deck. He handed his lantern to Terry and locked the thrashing wheel in place. Instantly, the lumber boat rode more smoothly and evenly.

“That will keep the lumber from bouncing around when we go to work down there,” said Jim. “But say, suppose it was only a rat that we heard!”

“It could hardly be that,” Terry answered. “A rat could never make a pounding like that. We’ll just have to go to it and shift that lumber.”

Once more they descended into the hold and looked for pegs to hang up the lanterns. Finding convenient nails hanging from crossbeams they hung the lamps and looked over the tangle of lumber.

“Let see how this works,” suggested Don. Cupping his hands he called: “Hello! Anybody in this place?”

Almost immediately the thumping came to them from beneath the lumber. The boys looked at each other.

“Somebody is under there, sure as I’m standing here,” said Jim.

“Yes, that’s sure,” nodded Don, stooping over the first piece of lumber. “Let’s get going.”

He dragged one board toward him and Jim quickly took hold of the other end. Between them they swung it to one side and began the base of an orderly pile. Terry had started another and they swung that up.

“It is going to take us some time,” said Don. “But we can do it if we’re careful of the way we pile it.”

The lumber had been originally piled in orderly stacks, but a lack of proper bracing had allowed it to fall, probably under the pitching and rolling of the freighter. It had evidently been tossed around like match sticks, for it was badly tangled, and the boys found some difficulty in getting hold of some of the pieces. Fortunately for them there was enough room to one side to pile the pieces up neatly, and they worked rapidly and silently, realizing that it was necessary to save breath.

From time to time the thumping continued, and the boys shouted encouragement to the author of the noise. As nearly as they could judge the sound came from the very center of the pile, and they were puzzled as to how anyone could be held captive under such a load and still make a noise.

“Unless,” decided Terry. “The lumber has formed some kind of a house or shelter over his head and he is safe in there.”

Before very long the perspiration was running in small streams down the foreheads of the toiling boys, and their breath was coming with increasing difficulty. The air in the hold was not good, as not very much circulated down from above, and they found themselves longing for a breath of the invigorating salt air. But they did not slow up in their job; they piled lumber to one side with a will, the new pile riding above their heads.

“We’re getting near to the bottom,” panted Jim, after they had worked for an hour and a half.

He spoke the truth, for they were now within a foot of the bottom of the pile. Gathering their strength together the boys increased their speed and gathered up the remaining boards. As they got to the bottom Don said:

“This explodes Terry’s theory. There isn’t room enough under these boards for anyone to even lie down.”

They had now reached the last board and they cleared it aside. As soon as it was disposed of they saw an iron ring and a trap door in the floor of the hold.

“Oh,” exclaimed Jim, as he bent over the ring. “The banging must have been coming from underneath this door.”

They took hold of the ring and pulled, and the trap door swung upward, to drop over backward with a crash. There was a movement in the darkness below and then a shaggy head was poked out of the trap. It was a wild-looking face, thickly bearded, with two burning eyes fixed in sunken skin. The man reached toward them, clutched with one hand, and then fell forward, his eyes closed.

“Quick,” ordered Don, bending over him. “He’s fainted. No knowing how long he has been down there. We’ve got to get him on deck.”

It was not easy to raise the man out of the hole and carry him on deck, for he was a heavy-set man, but the boys did it somehow. The hardest part was getting him up the ladder, but that, too, was accomplished and they placed him on the deck. Then, while Terry went to get the lanterns Don and Jim poured water over the man’s face and rubbed his wrists. After Terry had set the lanterns in a circle on the deck the man opened his eyes and looked around him.

“By golly,” he said in a deep voice. “Vot der dunder happened to dis ship? Vere is der crew?”

Don shook his head. “You’ve got me. We were cruising by in a sloop and we saw the freighter apparently deserted. We were down in the hold when we heard your knocking and we moved the lumber to find you. How long have you been down there?”

The captain sat up and rubbed his shaggy head. “I dink a million years, but more like idt iss a day. You zee, my crew one terrible superstitious bunch of foreigners, and I vind t’at some of dem get ahold of some licker. I dink to myself dat maybe somebody hide it in dat hole down dere, so I go down to look. Well, at dere time de ship she roll and roll and dat lumber not too steady, I see, and I say to myself, ‘Captain Jan Vulfer, you beeg fool,’ but I go all der same. I not dell my crew dat I go. Vell, ven I am in dat hole der boat give vun beeg rock and down come de lumber, making of me a prisoner. I yell and pound but nobody come near me. Vun leetle candle dat I had vent oudt, and I been dere until I hear you boys and den I pound some more.”

“Yes,” said Jim. “We thought somebody was caught under the lumber and we dug you out. Good thing we came along when we did, or you would have died in there.”

The skipper nodded solemnly. “You bet you! You nefer know how much I appreciate vot you done.” He looked around the ship. “Dot cowardly crew must haf thought I was took avay py spooks and dey run avay from der ship. By golly, I get dem back!”

“I guess that’s the answer,” said Don. “Suppose we get you something to eat, captain?”

The captain jumped to his feet with alacrity. “Done!” he shouted. “Vot you got to eat? If you run short, ve got plenty on der _Plack Mummy_.”

“We have plenty,” laughed Jim. “Want to come aboard the sloop, captain?”

The captain assented and they helped him over the rail to the sloop, where Jim quickly prepared a substantial meal for him. While he ate he told them that he was a skipper for a local firm from Maine, who shipped lumber, and that he had been given an especially unruly crew on this last voyage. He was determined to get them back to the ship. Meanwhile, he assured the boys of his gratitude to them.

“Look at your hands,” he said, “all filled up mit blisters. By golly, you fine fellows to work like der dickens for me.”

“Nonsense,” laughed Terry. “You wouldn’t expect us to go away and leave you there in that hold, would you?”

Captain Vulfer shrugged his heavy shoulders. “Maype lots of fellows vouldn’t go down in dot hold ven dey hear dot hammering. I bet you my life idt sounded mighty like spooks, eh?”

“Yes, it was a bit scary,” the boys admitted.

The boys and the skipper slept on the deck of the freighter that night and early in the morning the captain was up and moving about. He was in good spirits and the boys found that they liked him very much. He combined a fund of good humor and keen business sense, and he could be authoritative and energetic when he wanted to be. He thought his crew would be found close by at some shore resort and asked the boys if they would run him ashore.

This they readily agreed to do, and after a hearty breakfast on the sloop they got under way. It took them three hours to run to shore, and they visited two small towns without finding any trace of the runaway crew. But the Dutch captain was not cast down.

“Ve’ll surely vind dem,” he told them. “You zee, dey run away from der ship in fear, but dey von’t know vot to do mit demselfs. Dey can’t get anodder job until dey bring dat ship in, and I bet you ve find dem drinkin’ dere head off in some blace.”

In a cheap hotel in the third town they found the missing crew. All of them were sitting in the bar when Captain Vulfer walked into the place, his arms folded and his brows knitted together. Surprise and disbelief greeted the skipper as his motley crew saw him towering before them.

“So!” thundered the skipper, as the boys looked on from the doorway. “Dis iss vere I vind you, hey? Joost because I go down der hold and take maype a little nap behind der lumber. You cowardly children! Unless you make one hurry up back to der boat I get you all put behind der bars in Portsmouth ven I get dere. Scatter, you dunder and blitzen mice!”

The crew scattered. With eyes popping out of their heads they made a rush for the long boat in which they had come ashore. And right behind them, cruising slowly in the _Lassie_, came their watchful skipper. He made them row back to the freighter, and once aboard he drove them with a will of iron to clean up the ship.

Just before leaving the boys the skipper shook each one cordially by the hand and pressed a beautiful hand-carved model of a full-rigged ship upon them.

“Joost something dot I make myself,” he said. “You maybe keep it vor your clubhouse, eh? Bye, bye. I never forget you, py golly.”

They waved to the captain as he leaned over the rail, until the low-lying _Black Mummy_ passed out of sight under full power.

_23. The Chandler’s Shop_

A few days after the events aboard the black freighter the boys landed from the _Lassie_ in Boston. They had been to the city once before when they were younger, but neither of them remembered the place. Terry had never been there, although he had always wanted to go. So it was with eager interest that the three boys looked around the famous city.

Before leaving on the cruise their father had given them a letter to a former business partner by the name of Ferris, and soon after landing in the city the boys looked him up. They found him in his office, busily engaged in his work as an importer. He scanned the letter Don handed to him from his father and his clear-cut face lighted up in recognition.

“Well, well,” exclaimed Mr. Ferris, as he smilingly shook hands with the boys. “So these are the Mercer boys and their friend, eh? I’m very happy to know you, I’m sure. How is dad?”

Mr. Ferris turned out to be an excellent host. He insisted on finishing up his business with unusual rapidity and then taking them around Boston. Some of the sections of particular interest were covered on foot and some in Mr. Ferris’ own car. The boys visited all of the historic houses in the city and the monument at Bunker Hill. And at the end of the day their host took them to his own house, a magnificent place on one of the fine, secluded old drives of the city. There the boys were made perfectly at home, and that night, after a delightful evening spent with the Ferris family, which consisted of two young daughters and Mrs. Ferris, beside Mr. Ferris, they slept in real beds once more.

“By golly, it surely feels good,” commented Jim, as he snuggled down in the large bed which had been made ready for him.

“No doubt that it does,” retorted Terry, who was to occupy the same bed. “But I’d thank you to move over, instead of sprawling all over the bed as if it was yours.”

“If you want any of it, you’ll have to fight for it, Chucklehead,” taunted Jim.

But when Don saw the light of mischief that leaped into Terry’s eyes he promptly vetoed the proposition.

“Nothing doing, you two,” he warned. “That would be all right if we were out on the boat, but we’re not. You can’t roughhouse in here. You’ll have to move over, Jim.”

Jim sighed. “Suppose I’ll have to. But anywhere else Terry would have to win his half of this bed! I got here first!”

On the following day, after the boys had enjoyed a splendid night’s rest, Mr. Ferris took the day off to entertain them. Although the boys did not know very much about the gentleman they did know that he had been very intimate with their father several years ago, and so they appreciated his efforts in their behalf. They spent most of the day simply enjoying themselves around the house, and in the afternoon Don proposed that they visit some chandler shops near the waterfront.

“We might be able to pick up something useful for the sloop,” he suggested. “We broke the frame of one porthole, and I’d like to hunt up a new one.”

Mr. Ferris knew the location of several ship shops and the boys visited one or two of them, but were unable to find a porthole frame to fit the one which had been broken on the _Lassie_. After they had visited the larger shops Don was ready to give it up.

“I guess we’ll have to order one, to be made special,” he said.

But Mr. Ferris knew of one more shop that they had not visited. It was down in a small alley that ran off the docks, he said, and while it was not much of a place, he felt that they might have the good luck to find what they were in search of. So they drove down to the docks in his car and parked near the mouth of the alley. Midway down this dark street they found the place, a dark little hole in the wall, and they entered.

The proprietor, a little humpbacked man, appeared with wonderful rapidity from a green curtain at the back of the darkened store and waited on them. Don looked over his badly arranged stock of ship fittings in the corner and Terry and Jim wandered around the store, examining various articles. The store was not in any way neat, ropes, clocks, wheels, anchors, glasses and other articles being piled carelessly all over the place. Mr. Ferris stood with Don, looking over the porthole fittings.

Don had found what he was looking for, and he examined it with unusual care, to make sure that there was no flaw in it. The portholes on the sloop were of an odd size and he had had to use unusual care in selecting one to fit it. After looking this particular one over he decided that it would do.

“This one is all right,” he told the proprietor. “I’ll take it.”

The owner went to wrap it up and Don turned his attention to other objects. He noticed that Jim was standing apart examining a ship’s clock, but thought nothing further about it at the time. But he would have been more curious had he known what was attracting his brother’s attention.

Jim had been picking up various articles during the time in which Don was looking over the porthole frame, and his attention had been especially drawn to the few ships’ clocks that the chandler had on display. One of them attracted him more than the others and he picked it up and looked closely at it. He turned it over in his hand, a puzzled look on his face.

“Jeepers, that looks like my clock, the one that was stolen,” he muttered.

Out of the corner of his eye he noted that the dealer was wrapping up Don’s purchase and he acted upon a thought which came to him. It was more of a memory than a thought, for he had just remembered that he had scratched his initials on one of the flanges on the back of his clock. Quickly he turned the clock over, tilted it up, and on the ornamental overhang of the clock he saw faintly the markings “J. M. M.” Without a doubt it was his own clock.

Without saying anything he put the clock back and they all went out of the shop. It was not until they had left the neighborhood that he asked Mr. Ferris to draw up to the curb while he told his story. It created quite a sensation.

“Then that’s the headquarters of the marine bandits,” declared Don, with conviction.

“Well, you can’t be sure of that,” said Mr. Ferris. “It is possible that the man might have simply bought stolen goods. But we’ll report this to the police at once. It is well worth knowing, and we may be on the right track, or have a very valuable clue.”

Without loss of time they went to the nearest police station and reported the matter to the local chief. He was much interested.

“This may prove to be a big thing,” he said, pushing a row of buttons on his desk. “We’ve been after these fellows all along the waterfront for a long time, but up until now they have managed to slip through our hands with ease. This may be the finishing touch. I’ll put my men on the trail at once.”

Several detectives reported to the chief, who informed them of the details of a raid which he planned. He decided to go down personally and the boys begged to be allowed to go. He assented and they rode down in Mr. Ferris’ car.

“We’ll go around to the alley at the back,” the chief decided. “I have men who are to raid the place in the front and I think it best that we look in at the rear. There may be some means of exit there that will bear watching.”

They ran down the alley that passed back of the ship chandler’s place and sat in the car, waiting. After what seemed like a long time a whistle suddenly shrilled out from the other street. Instantly the captain was out of the car, the boys and Mr. Ferris following.

“I guess we can get in this way,” the chief said, leading the way between two narrow houses. They arrived at the back of the shop in time to see two detectives come out with two men, one of whom was Frank and the other the man called Marcy.

“Got these two sleeping in the back, chief,” one of the detectives said. “The boss of the place is out front, safely collared. I guess this is a dumping ground, all right. The cellar is full of stuff.”

“Do you boys know either of these men?” asked the chief.

“Indeed we do,” answered Don. “This man Frank helped to imprison me, and later on he tried to capture the sloop when Terry was on board. The other man is the one who followed me through the cellar at Mystery Island.”

“I wonder what became of Benito the leader?” mused Jim.

One of the detectives shook the two captives. “Where is your leader?” asked the detective.

“Don’t know,” said Frank, sullenly.

“Look here,” said the detective. “We——”

At that moment a small door in a house a short distance from the chandler’s shop opened suddenly and a man bolted out. The boys recognized him at once.

“Benito!” shouted Don and Jim, in a breath.

The man hesitated for a second and then began to run. But that second was his undoing. Just as the chief started after him Terry launched into action. He was nearest and he moved swiftly. A few running steps he took and then dived in a fine football tackle, catching the running bandit just at the knees. Benito went down like a log, and before he could get up the chief and the boys were upon him.

“Got you this time,” panted Terry. “First down and goal to go, though you won’t be worrying about that now.”

They lifted the leader of the gang to his feet and handcuffed them all. The chief was pleased with the day’s work.

“Fine work, my boys,” he cried, enthusiastically. “I think this spells the end of that marine bandit gang.”

_24. The End of the Cruise_