Camp Site
The Cubs stood a long while, silently viewing the drifting boat. No other
craft now was visible on the river, and no one appeared aware of their
plight.
“Maybe I could swim out there before the boat moves farther downstream,”
Dan proposed, estimating the distance.
“Not on your life!” Brad promptly vetoed the suggestion. “You’re an
expert swimmer and might make it, but we’re taking no chances. We’ve
already messed things up enough.”
“Mr. Holloway warned us a storm might blow up,” Dan added, kicking
disgustedly at the wet sand. “We’d have been more alert if we hadn’t been
so interested in that raft and motorboat.”
“Mr. Holloway just had his boat repaired too. Now if it sinks or rams
into something, we have no one to blame except ourselves.”
Dan’s gaze had focused upon a man’s large footprint visible in the sand.
“Say! Maybe we do have someone else to blame besides ourselves!” he
cried. “Look at that!”
Brad stared at the footprint which plainly had been made since the Cubs
had pulled their boat up on shore. Half-protected from the rain by a
piece of driftwood, it remained the only mark on an otherwise smooth
beachway.
“Someone’s been here since we were!” he exclaimed, stooping to examine
the shoe print.
“And that someone must have set our boat free to drift, Brad!”
“Jabowski?”
“Could be, Brad. He took a dislike to me, I know.”
“Even so, it would be a contemptible trick. I hate to think he’d do it.”
“Who else is on the island?”
“No one so far as I know,” Brad replied, his eyes troubled. “Well, it’s a
relief to know the boat didn’t drift off due to our own carelessness.
Even so, we’re in a jam.”
Dan nodded, his face sober. The afternoon had grown dark and night would
come on earlier than usual. When the sailboat failed to return to the
clubhouse, he knew Mr. Holloway would be very worried.
“We’ll be picked up eventually,” he said, shivering in his wet clothing.
“Meanwhile, we’re in for an uncomfortable time of it.”
“Let’s find Jabowski’s place,” Brad proposed. “He might be willing to
pick up our boat with his raft, or at least take us ashore.”
“Think he’d do it? After the way he set our boat loose—”
“We may suspect he did it, but it could have been someone else, Dan.
Anyway, isn’t it better than standing here?”
“Sure,” Dan agreed. “It’s our only chance.”
From the beach, the boys could see no buildings on the island. However,
from previous sails in the locality, they knew that the old hotel
building was situated in a heavily wooded section to the north.
Setting off diagonally through a thicket of saplings, they found a trail
which led in the direction they wished to go. After wading through a
patch of weeds and rushes which came to waist-depth, they emerged into an
area of thin green turf.
Beyond they spied the old hotel, a sprawling building with grimy windows
and broken shutters. Unpainted in recent years, it had a look of utter
abandonment. The foundation had crumbled in many places and the roof
sagged. Broken window panes in the upper story windows had not been
replaced.
“Why, the place is deserted,” Dan said in disappointment.
“Then why is smoke coming from the chimney?” Brad demanded. Trained as a
Scout to be observing, he had noticed the blue-white wisp curling from
the rear of the building.
“You’re right. Someone must be there now. Let’s knock.”
They pushed on, circling the old building. Brad rapped on the rear door.
There was no answer.
He pounded. Still no one came to the door. Glancing upward, however, Dan
fancied he saw a face at a dirt-streaked window almost directly overhead.
Before he could be sure, the shadow was gone.
“It’s no use,” Brad said, after rapping again on the door. “Someone must
be living here, but the place seems to be deserted now.”
“Either that, or Jabowski’s hiding out. I thought I saw a face at the
window.”
“Where, Dan?”
The younger boy indicated the window.
“No one there now,” Brad said. “But I think you may be right. Ever since
we came here, I’ve had a feeling as if we’re being watched. There’s
something about this place I don’t like.”
Convinced they were to obtain no help from the caretaker, the boys sought
an easier route back to the beach.
Not far from the rear of the hotel, they noticed an abandoned pier which
had fallen into decay. Tied to it was the same raft they had observed
earlier that afternoon.
Farther down the shore extended a long stretch of loose sand which
gradually merged into turf and wooded area.
“Wonder if that tale Mr. Hatfield told us about the tunnel is true?” Brad
speculated as they dog-trotted along. “No evidence of it anywhere
around.”
Without seeing anyone, the boys struck across the dunes, and finally
emerged on the beach not far from where they first had taken refuge.
Gazing down-river, they sought to determine the position of their
drifting boat. To their astonishment it was nowhere to be seen.
“Well, for crying out loud!” Dan yipped. “Now what became of it? How
could that boat have drifted out of sight so fast?”
“It couldn’t. Either someone has hauled it in or—”
“Or what?” Dan demanded as his companion broke off.
Instead of answering, Brad pointed far upstream. The missing sailboat had
been taken in tow by a motor launch from the Yacht Club.
“There goes our boat now, Dan! And with it our chance for a rescue.”
“Let’s yell. Maybe we can attract attention.”
In unison, the boys shouted and waved their arms. Running far down the
beach, they watched the receding launch anxiously.
“They see us!” Brad cried in relief. “She’s turning around.”
True to his observation, the motor craft had come about. With the
sailboat still in tow, it set a direct course for the island.
“Lucky break for us,” Brad mumbled in relief. “I had visions of spending
the night on this place.”
Within a few minutes the launch came close to the island. Brad and Dan
saw then that Mr. Hatfield was at the wheel, accompanied by Midge, Red
and Chips. The owner of the launch, a man they did not know, also was in
the boat.
The Cub leader eased the craft as near shore as he could. When the launch
could approach no closer without grounding, he advised Brad and Dan to
wade out. Eager hands pulled them over the side into the launch.
“We’ve been worried about you,” Mr. Hatfield said, wrapping his coat
about Dan. “Didn’t Midge’s father warn you to remain close to the
clubhouse?”
“He did, sir. We meant to carry out his orders. But a lot happened.”
“We’ll discuss that later, Dan. The important thing is that you’re both
safe. By the way, meet Mr. Fisher.”
Dan and Brad grasped the launch owner’s horny hand, expressing gratitude
for the rescue. From him they learned that their drifting boat had been
sighted by Midge from the Cave. The Cub had summoned Mr. Hatfield, who
had sought the help of Mr. Fisher in finding them.
“You and Brad scared us out of a year’s growth,” Chips said accusingly.
“Seeing that empty boat made us think you might have drowned.”
“Me drown?” Dan snorted.
“You may be a crack swimmer, but accidents do occur,” Mr. Hatfield
interposed. “Suppose you tell us what happened that caused you to sail so
far from the clubhouse.”
Together Dan and Brad explained how their attention had been drawn to the
raft and motorboat.
“The storm struck us unexpectedly,” Brad added. “We barely had time to
get the sail down.”
“I’m glad you managed that,” Mr. Hatfield approved. “The wind didn’t last
long but it was strong when it came. If it had hit you with the sail up,
the dinghy probably would have capsized.”
“We made Skeleton Island,” Dan took up the account. “After beaching the
boat, we dashed back into the bushes to get out of the rain. When we
returned to the beach, our boat was gone.”
“Oh, Dan,” Mr. Hatfield sighed. “How many times have I warned the Cubs
always to pull a boat beyond reach of the waves?”
“But we did, sir! Someone deliberately set the dinghy loose.”
Mr. Hatfield braced himself as the launch swung sharply around a buoy
which marked a river shoal.
“Your boat was set loose?” he demanded. “Are you sure, Dan?”
“Well, we found a man’s footprint in the sand. That boat couldn’t have
broken away by itself.”
“We have an idea who did it,” Brad added.
“Let’s mention no names,” Mr. Hatfield said quickly. “That is, not unless
you’re certain.”
Being unable to prove that it was Jabowski who had shoved their boat from
the beach, Dan and Brad remained silent.
“I know you believe you were careful about the boat,” Mr. Hatfield said.
“Perhaps you were. On the other hand, you might have been mistaken.”
“Hardly,” commented Brad in quick protest.
“Bear in mind that Mr. Manheim, the island owner, has been very friendly
to the Scouts and Cubs. He’s given permission for us to camp on Skeleton
Island this weekend. Now if wild accusations should reach his ears, it
might prove embarrassing to say the least.”
Brad and Dan grasped the idea Mr. Hatfield intended to convey.
“After all, maybe we were mistaken,” Brad grinned. “Those waves were
pretty big.”
No more was said about the sailboat mishap at that time. But later at the
Cave, the two boys told Mr. Hatfield why they had been so interested in
the raft operator’s contact with the motorboat.
“It seemed queer the men in the motorboat would signal,” Dan remarked.
“We figured it must have been Jabowski who ferried across the river to
meet them. No one else appears to be living on the island.”
“We’ll know more about Skeleton Island after this weekend,” Mr. Hatfield
remarked. “The camping trip should give us an opportunity to see that
everything is satisfactory before the property is purchased.”
“Then you think something queer may be going on there?” Brad demanded
alertly.
Mr. Hatfield smiled and did not answer the question directly. “Oh, one
can’t tell,” he replied. “No use exciting the Cubs in any case. So not a
word of this to the other boys!”
During the remainder of the week, preparations for the camping trip kept
Dan and Brad so busy they had little time to think of possible mystery at
Skeleton Island.
However, unknown to them, Mr. Hatfield was more disturbed by the sailboat
incident than he cared to admit.
On two occasions he telephoned Mr. Manheim, intending to inquire as to
any possible intruders on Skeleton Island.
He was informed that the island owner was out of the city and would not
return before Saturday.
Though Brad and Dan were careful to say nothing of their unfortunate
experience on Skeleton Island, the other Cubs guessed that there was more
to the story than had been told.
“Come on—give,” Midge urged. “I know you boys are too smart to let a boat
get away from you, even in a storm.”
“Nothing to report,” Dan replied with a wide grin.
His silence only made the Cubs more curious. They discussed the proposed
camping trip at great length, building up elements of mystery and
adventure. And to make their rivals, the Cubs of Den 1, envious, they
passed out hints that something queer already had happened there.
In due time, these rumors reached the ears of Ross Langdon.
Still smarting from his defeat in the swimming meet, he told his buddies
that he intended to have a little wholesome fun at Dan Carter’s expense.
“Just be sure it’s fun and not revenge,” a fellow Cub warned him. “Seems
to me you’ve been a sore-head ever since you lost the race.”
“Who lost a race?” Ross retorted. “I wuz robbed!”
Unaware that Ross was plotting revenge, Dan continued to practice his
swimming faithfully at the “Y” pool.
Between times, he slaved on the coded message left by Jacques. But try as
he would, he could not decipher it.
“When it comes to solving a puzzle, I’m a dud,” Dan remarked one
afternoon as he and Brad lounged in the cave. “And that reminds me—we’ve
heard nothing more about Paper Bag Eddie or his friend Fagan.”
“You know, that fellow’s hook-up with a man of Eddie’s shady reputation
makes me wonder if he could have had any part in the fur theft,” Brad
said thoughtfully. “I’ve not seen a word in the paper lately about any
hauls by river pirates.”
“Neither have I, Brad. That robbery was pulled just about the time of
night Mr. Holloway’s boat was hit.”
“Sure, that’s what I’ve been thinking, Dan. Why not drop around and talk
to Hank Hawkins? He may have heard of this bird Fagan.”
Having nothing more pressing to do, Dan agreed to the proposal.
The boys found the warehouseman at the dock chatting with his friend, Joe
Matt. The seeing-eye dog, upon sighting Dan, began to strain at his
leash. Only after the blindman had restrained the animal were the Cubs
able to enter the warehouse.
For awhile the conversation centered on river commerce. Then presently,
Dan and Brad steered it to the topic of river pirates.
“I wish the police would get busy and catch these pug-uglies that have
been makin’ so much trouble along the waterfront,” Hank said irritably.
“Trouble is, they’re slick operators.”
“Have you lost any shipments lately?” Joe Matt inquired.
“Not since the furs were snatched. All the same, I’m keeping my fingers
crossed.”
“You don’t think the river pirates would strike twice in the same area?”
the blindman scoffed. “Especially with police on the lookout.”
“I wouldn’t put anything past those boys!” Hank retorted as he studied a
bill of lading. “I’m taking no chances! Not with another valuable
shipment due any day.”
“Another box of furs?”
“That’s right.”
“Coming through around the 24th,” the blindman remarked casually.
“That happens to be the date,” Hank admitted, gazing at the other rather
sharply. “But I don’t remember saying anything about it. Fact is—”
“You told me the other day.”
“Then it was a slip of the tongue,” Hank replied. “You’ll do me a favor
not to speak of the date. It’s confidential information.”
“Sorry,” Joe Matt apologized. “I didn’t know there was any secret about
it.”
“Every precaution is being taken to safeguard the shipment. Special
police will guard the docks. I got nothing to worry about—and yet I do it
anyhow.”
“You’re jittery,” the blindman said, starting away. “Well, see you later.
Come on, Rudy!”
After he had tapped off down the dock, Brad and Dan lingered a few
minutes longer. Hank, however, seemed preoccupied. Dan asked him if he
knew any sailor by the name of Frisk Fagan.
“No, I don’t,” he answered a trifle irritably. “Now I wish you boys
wouldn’t pester me. I got work to do.”
Thus dismissed, Brad and Dan took themselves off.
“Hank was out of sorts because we overhead Joe Matt mention that 24th
shipping date,” Dan remarked as they tramped along together. “Say, that’s
funny!”
“What is, Dan?”
“Those two dates being the same!”
“What two dates?”
“Don’t you recall?” Dan demanded excitedly. “That coded message Jacques
had in his pocket mentioned the 24th!”
“The note included the numerals 24,” Brad admitted. “But what does that
prove?”
“Nothing perhaps. Then again, it may mean plenty!” Dan spoke with quiet
conviction. “I know one thing. I’m really going to work on that message.
I’ll break the code if it’s humanly possible!”