Transcriber's note:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
A Mystery Story
SIGN OF THE GREEN ARROW
by
ROY J. SNELL
Reilly & Lee
Chicago
Copyright 1939
By
Reilly & Lee
Printed in the U.S.A.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I "This is Our Secret" 11
II Spooky Waters 22
III A Bright Eyed Beach-Comber 34
IV Spies 46
V Whispering Depths 54
VI Real Progress! 73
VII Mystery Singers of the Night 82
VIII Monster of the Deep 96
IX Dave's Electric Gun 105
X Little Big-Heads 115
XI Tigers of the Sea 125
XII Johnny's Day Off 136
XIII The Green Arrow Trail 150
XIV An Important Discovery 161
XV Adrift in the Depths 167
XVI Voice of Drums 174
XVII Marching on the Castle 183
XVIII The Battle 192
XIX On the Bottom 204
SIGN OF THE GREEN ARROW
CHAPTER I
"THIS IS OUR SECRET."
It was midnight. Johnny Thompson paced the deck of the _Sea Nymph_ alone.
He would be doing this until daybreak. The tropical night was glorious.
There was a faint breeze--just enough to ripple the waters where the
phosphorescent light thrown off by a million tiny creatures rivaled the
stars above.
"Spooky," he thought, meditatively. "Out here all alone with the
night.... Natives over there." He faced the east, where dark green hills
loomed out of the water. Over there was a small island. Johnny never had
been there. Some time he'd get into a canoe and paddle over. Earlier in
the evening he had seen a light, a white man's light, he had thought,
without knowing why. He--
His thoughts were interrupted by someone moving, up forward. Or was
there? He had supposed they all were asleep--the strange old man, bony
and tall, with goggle eyes and heavy glasses, the tall young man and the
blonde girl. They all had berths forward. The captain and mate were aft;
the native crew, below deck. There was no need for any of the crew, now.
The boat was anchored. Only he, Johnny Thompson, was needed, to keep
watch for prowlers of the sea, or signs of a storm.
It was strange, this new job. He was not sure just what these people were
planning--some scientific expedition, he thought. The ship's outfit was
rather irregular, but he had been glad of the chance to sign up as watch.
He loved the sea.
"Someone--" he said to himself, "--is moving, up there." He started
forward, cautiously.
He had covered only half the hundred and twenty-five foot length of deck
when suddenly he beheld the girl of the party.
"Walking in her sleep," Johnny thought, with a touch of alarm. But she
wasn't.
"Hello!" She poked a hand from beneath her midnight-blue dressing gown.
"It's too swell a night to sleep."
"Yes," Johnny agreed.
"You're not a regular watch, are you?" she asked.
"That--er--" Johnny hesitated. "That's not my regular job. Nothing is.
Does that matter?"
"No, I suppose not. Anyhow nothing could happen, here."
"Plenty could happen," he contradicted, quietly.
"How do you know?"
"I've been in the Tropics before. Natives get ugly sometimes. They
imagine white men are getting the best of them--which, for the most part,
they are!" Johnny laughed. "Then there are storms," he went on. "Wildest
place for storms you've ever seen. Once I drifted before a storm for
thirty-six hours in a boat just about like this, only--" he hesitated,
"it was different."
"Yes," the girl laughed, "it must have been, as there's not another boat
quite like this in all the world, I guess. It--
"Look!" she exclaimed softly, pointing toward the distant island. "What's
that strange light?"
"Light?" Johnny spun round. "Oh! Say--that _is_ strange! It's green. A
green light."
"Like an arrow," the girl whispered. "Green arrow of the Tropics. Quite
romantic! But what can it be?"
"It's not for us," said Johnny. "It--it seems to blink. Wait!"
Retracing his steps he went to a box of life-preservers where he had left
his heavy field glass. He returned quickly to her side.
"Now," he invited, "have a look!" He held the glass in position for her.
"It--it _does_ blink," she murmured. "It's like an electric sign. Some
lights go off; others go on!"
"Let's see." Johnny took the glass. "Why--it's some sort of signalling,"
he decided at once. "But not for _us_!"
Instinctively they turned to scan the sea.
"There's no other boat out there," said Johnny. "At least there wasn't
any at sunset. If one had moved in, we'd see the light."
"If there were a light," whispered the girl, "how gorgeously mysterious
it'd be. How--
"Look!" she exclaimed. "Do you see it? A green arrow out there on the
sea?"
"No--oo," Johnny said, after a moment of gazing. "I can't see it. Must
have been a reflection of that other light. That often happens, you--"
"No!" The girl said, emphatically. "There! I saw it again!"
"Perhaps I'm color-blind," said Johnny after another long look. "But I
just don't see it!"
At that he turned around to continue his study of that land light.
"It's strange," he murmured. "I can't quite count the lights, but they
_do_ go on and off. Irregularly, too. It must be a signal. But what are
they saying?"
"And to whom?" the girl added.
"Well," she sighed a moment later, "we'll not learn the answer, at least
not tonight. Because it's gone!"
"So it is," said Johnny, after a long look at the island.
"Sha--shall we tell them?" he asked after a moment.
"Who? Grandfather and Dave? Oh--why should we? It can't be anything that
affects us! Let's keep it for our own little secret. Perhaps we'll solve
the riddle--"
"All right," Johnny agreed, readily. There's a queer girl for you, he was
thinking. She'd be lots of fun, though.
"Is the elderly man your grandfather?" he asked.
"Yes. Professor Casper's his name. Only wish I knew as much as he does.
My name's Doris--Doris Casper." She put out her hand. "I--I'll be seeing
you. Good night. And don't forget--it's our secret--sign of the green
arrow!"
She was gone.
"Sign of the green arrow," Johnny whispered, softly. "Perhaps I _should_
report it to the professor. And then again--perhaps I shouldn't. It can't
have a thing to do with this boat, and it's entirely out of my line of
duty. The girl wants to share a secret. Most girls do, in fact. So why
not?"
With that, for the present at least, the whole affair was dismissed from
his mind.
Half an hour later he found himself sitting alone on the after deck,
glancing away at those dim, mysterious shores, and thinking back over the
events that had led up to this mildly exciting night.
Two months before, he had found himself in New York wanting a job, and
not able to find one. After three weeks of trying he had grown somewhat
bitter about the whole thing.
"I'm intelligent," he had said to a prospective employer. "I've always
worked. I like it. Why shouldn't I have a chance?"
"Why not?" the grey haired man had replied sadly. "I've asked that
question often, but I don't know the answer. I only know we can't use
another man."
That very afternoon, while watching boats moving out to sea, Johnny had
his chance, and took it. He caught sight of a young man, struggling
toward a gang-plank under a heavy load.
"Give you a lift?" he had volunteered, courteously.
"Whew! Yes." The man mopped his brow. "Looking for a dime?"
"Not yet!" Reddening, Johnny impulsively jerked a few small bills from
his pocket. "Not broke, yet."
"Oh!" The man looked at him with interest. "Say!" he exclaimed. "I
shouldn't wonder if you'd do!"
"For what?" the boy asked.
"I'm off to the Spanish Main to take pictures--native life, ancient
ruins, and all that. There's a lot of stuff to lug, and--" he hesitated,
"perhaps a fight to step into now and then! Want to go?"
"_Do_ I?" Johnny grabbed the two largest bags.
"There's no money in it! Just experience and expenses."
"All right! What are we waiting for?" Johnny led the way up the
gang-plank.
All that had been two months before and what wonderful months those had
been! Sailing from island to island, they had taken pictures of quaint,
native homes, of native women with flashing eyes, of ancient buccaneer
cannon, fast rusting to nothingness. There had been three exciting
fights, with men who had thought they were intruding. In one of these, a
machete had come within a fraction of an inch of Johnny's ear. He seemed
to feel the cool swish of it now.
Then, he thought with a sigh, those golden days had ended. Lee Martin,
the photographer, had been called back to New York.
"You keep the stuff," Lee had said to Johnny. "You may be able to get
some unusual pictures. If you do--send 'em home to me. I'll see what I
can make out of 'em, for you."
Johnny had watched Lee's boat fade into the distance. Then, with heavy
heart, he had marched back to his lodgings in Port au Prince, the capital
of the Island Republic of Haiti.
That very day he had noticed the _Sea Nymph_, located the man in charge,
and signed up as watch. His photographic equipment was in his stateroom.
He had laid in a good supply of film packs and plates. Would he find
opportunity to use them? Would he get some unusual pictures to send to
Lee Martin? Time was to answer all these questions in its own way....
"It's a strange layout," he thought, as he took a turn about the deck. "I
suppose I'll know what it's all about before long."
It was indeed a strangely equipped craft. A three-master, with an
auxiliary motor for bad weather, the _Sea Nymph_ had been built for
island trade. Since the bottom had dropped out of the sugar market, she
had been lying idle in the harbor. Without making many changes, the
elderly professor had equipped her for his purpose, whatever that might
be. Johnny had not yet been told. There had been a hold at the boat's
center, for sugar and other freight. This had been transformed into a
tank--or swimming pool. Johnny could not tell which. Doris, garbed in a
gay swim suit, had taken a morning plunge there, but he had a notion it
was for some other purpose, also.
Strangest of all, close to the stern where it could be reached by the
stout hoists, was a large, hollow steel ball. It was all of eight feet in
diameter, and its walls were several inches thick. What, he had asked
himself more than once, could that be for? But he had asked no one else.
The natives would not know, and one simply did not ask such questions of
an employer. Besides, Johnny had learned long before, it is a waste of
time to ask questions which, in good time, will answer themselves....