THE HUNNIWELL BOYS AND THE PLATINUM MYSTERY
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THE HUNNIWELL BOYS
AND THE PLATINUM MYSTERY
By L. P. WYMAN, Ph.D.
AUTHOR OF
“The Hunniwell Boys in the Air,” “The Hunniwell
Boys’ Victory,” “The Hunniwell Boys’ Longest
Flight,” “The Hunniwell Boys in the Secret
Service,” “The Lakewood Boys Series,”
“The Golden Boys Series,” etc.
[A.L. Burt Company, New York logo]
Printed in U. S. A.
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THE HUNNIWELL BOYS SERIES
THRILLING AVIATION STORIES
FOR BOYS 12 TO 16 YEARS
By L. P. WYMAN, Ph. D.
The Hunniwell Boys in the Air
The Hunniwell Boys’ Victory
The Hunniwell Boys in the Secret Service
The Hunniwell Boys and the Platinum Mystery
The Hunniwell Boys’ Longest Flight
Copyright, 1928
By A. L. BURT COMPANY
THE HUNNIWELL BOYS AND THE PLATINUM MYSTERY
Printed in U. S. A.
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THE HUNNIWELL BOYS AND THE PLATINUM MYSTERY
CHAPTER I
A STRANGE PROPOSAL
“Horned toads and little fishes, but will you look at that baby pull!”
Bill Hunniwell dropped his paddle and grabbed the landing net as he
spoke. His brother, Gordon, however, was too busy handling the five
ounce rod to make any reply. He had all he could do to keep a taut line
on the big square tail as it broke water some sixty feet from the canoe.
But he had handled big fish before and, although he fought it nearly
half an hour, he finally succeeded in getting it up within netting
distance and in another minute the big fellow lay on the bottom of the
canoe too worn out even to flop.
“I’ll bet he’ll go ten pounds,” Bill declared as he looked down at the
fish.
“Guess he’s the biggest that has come out of Lost Pond in our time,”
Gordon added as he too gazed with pride at his catch.
“We’ll take him home and have him mounted,” Bill declared as he picked
up the paddle and turned the canoe toward the cabin.
“The phone’s ringing,” Gordon said when they were almost in. “Make it
snappy or they’ll ring off.”
A few strong strokes put the light canoe alongside the wharf and Gordon
leaped out and raced for the cabin only a few feet away. Bill pulled the
canoe up onto the wharf and began taking the rod and fish out. But he
had not finished when Gordon returned.
“It was mother calling,” he announced. “She says that Mr. Rogers is at
the house and wants to see us.”
“Rogers? You mean——?”
“Sure, Rogers. R-O-G-E-R-S, our Rogers.”
“What’s he want?”
“She didn’t say, just said he wanted to see us.”
“Of course you said we’d be right down as soon as we could shut up the
cabin.”
“Sure I did. We were going down this afternoon anyhow and it’ll save us
the trouble of getting dinner. It’s only a few minutes after ten and we
can make it by dinner time if we hurry.”
But it was some task to close up the two cabins as the windows were all
fitted with heavy shutters and the bedding had to be packed away on
account of mice and squirrels which, in spite of all they could do, were
bound to get in. So it was nearly half past eleven before they were
ready to start.
In a small space on the hillside just beyond the cabin rested an
airplane with the name “Albatross” in large letters on both sides. One
would have said that it would be impossible for a plane to take off in
that small space and, for an ordinary plane it would have been correct.
But this was no ordinary plane. It carried no heavy gasoline engine with
its heavy load of fuel, but was driven by a light but powerful electric
motor which received its power from a new type of storage battery. The
latter was very small consisting only of a copper cylinder some eight
inches long by an inch and a half or two inches in diameter. The cell
was the invention of Bob and Jack Golden and a number of them had been
loaned to the Hunniwell boys while the Goldens were abroad.
The extreme lightness of the plane had suggested to them the possibility
of lifting it vertically by means of a horizontal propeller driven by a
second motor and the idea had proved a complete success. Consequently
they were able to land and take off in a space barely large enough to
hold the plane.
“You got the fish?” Bill asked as he slipped a cell in place.
“I put it in the box under your seat,” Gordon told him.
“Sure everything’s all right?”
“Sure. I even put out the cat.”
“Well, we want to leave things right because something tells me that
we’re going to be busy the rest of the summer and we may not get up here
again till next spring.”
“But it’s only the third week in August.”
“I know that, but it’s only a month till college opens and Rogers is
wanting to see us.”
“And he wouldn’t be unless he had something he wants us to do.”
“Exactly.”
Steve Rogers was a member of The United States Secret Service and the
boys had the previous summer been of great service to him in convicting
the leader of the largest dope selling ring in the history of the
service. They knew how busy he was and thus Bill had decided that
something of more than passing importance had brought him to Maine.
“Let’s go.”
Bill pushed over a switch and the horizontal propeller, which they had
dubbed, “the elevator,” began to revolve. Faster and faster the blade
whirled as Bill added notch after notch until, with a slight lurch, the
plane lifted from the ground. Slowly it rose in the air and started in
the direction of the pond as Bill set the forward propeller in motion.
“Better make it snappy so cook’ll have time to put on a couple extra
plates,” Gordon told him as the plane skimmed the top of the mountain on
the other side of the pond.
“Be there in twenty minutes,” Bill promised.
And he kept his word for the noon whistles were blowing just as the
Albatross landed in front of the home hangar. Without waiting to push it
inside the boys hurried around to the front of the house where they
found their guest on the porch talking with Mr. Hunniwell.
“Talk about pleasant surprises,” Bill said as they shook hands.
“Hope I haven’t disturbed your vacation,” Rogers told him.
“Not a bit of it, we were coming out this afternoon anyhow,” Bill
assured him.
“Caught a ten pounder, Dad,” Gordon said with a proud look at his
father.
“Tell that to the marines,” Mr. Hunniwell laughed.
“Wait a minute and I’ll show you,” and Gordon darted off to be back in a
minute holding the big trout out for their inspection.
“That’s no fish,” Rogers declared, “That’s a whale, and I wouldn’t be a
bit surprised if it’s the very one that swallowed Jonah.”
“I didn’t know they grew that large in Lost,” Mr. Hunniwell added.
“Well, I reckon you’ll have to believe it now,” Bill told him.
“Unless you’re like the man who, the first time he saw a giraffe,
declared ‘there ain’t no such animal,’” Rogers laughed.
“Well, seeing’s believing,” Mr. Hunniwell assured them. “But there’s the
dinner bell and we’d better not keep them waiting.”
An hour later they were again sitting on the porch with the exception of
Mr. Hunniwell who had returned to his office.
“Well,” Rogers began as soon as they had sat down, “I suppose you boys
are wondering what is up.”
“Something like that,” Gordon grinned.
“Anything is welcome so long as it brought you up here,” Bill added.
“Thanks,” Rogers smiled. “Believe me I’m always glad to come here and
see you two boys. Don’t know of a single other place where I’d rather
be. But this time I had a very definite object in coming and when I’ve
told you the story I think you’ll agree that it’s a queer one.”
“Starts in good,” Gordon declared.
“But it hasn’t started yet,” Rogers told him.
“No, but I mean it sounds as though it was going to be good,” Gordon
explained.
“Well, here goes. In the first place you must know that I was born in
the city of Gloucester, Massachusetts, and my parents still live there
in the same house. You of course know that Gloucester used to be a
famous home port for whalers and for many years my ancestors followed
that trade. I believe a man named Rogers is more or less famous for
having captured the largest whale ever brought in. That was more than a
hundred and fifty years ago but it is a matter of record. It’s an old
house, the one in which I was born, but they knew how to build in those
days and it is still in good shape and the timbers seem as sound as
ever.
“I’ve been home a few days with my wife and yesterday morning it was
raining and, having nothing to do, I went up into the attic, where there
is a great conglomeration of all sorts of things, and began rummaging
about as I like to do. Well, stuck away back in one corner and covered
with dust I found a small trunk which must have been there no one knows
how many years. Strange why no one ever noticed it before but it was way
back in a dark corner, as I said, and I guess no one ever saw it, as
there was a lot of stuff piled in front of it.
“It was locked but the leather had rotted away so that the lock fell out
almost as soon as I touched it. It was almost full of papers yellow with
age and most of them were newspapers and didn’t mean a thing to me
except that they were pretty old, most of them being dated back before
the Civil War. But, to make a long story short, down at the bottom of
the heap I found an old pocket-book and in it was a paper and that paper
is what brings me here.”
He reached in his pocket and took from it a large and very thin
pocket-book which looked to the boys to be very old. From it he drew a
sheet of paper which he handled with extreme care and they could see
that it was very brittle.
“I’ve read this about a dozen times and as the writing is barely legible
I’ll read it aloud to you as it would take you some time to decipher it.
It’s dated March 20th, 1816.”
“What year did you say?” Bill asked as he paused.
“1816,” Rogers told him.
“Over one hundred years ago,” Gordon gasped.
“I knew you’d be surprised,” Rogers smiled.
“It’s hardly believable,” Bill added.
“And that isn’t the hardest part to believe either,” Rogers told him as
he again bent his gaze on the letter. “Listen.
“‘I burried Jim yesterday. He was sick only a few days and I did all I
could for him but ’twasn’t any use. I ain’t feeling none too good myself
and perhaps I’m going to get what got him. Well, it’s all right if I do.
I’ve had a pretty good life but I would like to see the folks at home
once more. I’ve hid the metal we found and there’s about a hundred
pounds of it. I don’t know what it is and maybe it’s no good but it’s
queer stuff and I never saw any like it before. Looks like silver but
’tain’t because Jim tried it with some aqua fortis he had and——’”
“What’s that stuff?” Gordon interrupted.
“You mean aqua fortis?”
“Sure.”
“That’s what they used to call nitric acid, it means strong water. It’s
Latin,” Rogers explained.
“Funny how he happened to have it with him,” Bill declared.
“That’s what I thought,” Rogers agreed.
“‘And it didn’t dissolve it a bit,’” he continued to read. “‘Maybe it’s
some new kind of metal, Jim thought it was but I don’t know.’”
“There seems to have been a break here but there’s another line.
“‘I see a ship and it’s coming this way. Maybe I’ll see the folks again
after all.’”
“Is that all?” Bill asked as he stopped reading.
“That’s all except for a map on the other side of the paper which shows
where they hid the stuff.”
“That stuff was platinum,” Bill declared.
“I think you’re right,” Rogers told him.
“And a hundred pounds,” Gordon gasped. “How much would that be worth?”
“About a hundred and forty thousand dollars,” Rogers told him.
“Is there any name signed to the letter?” Bill asked.
“It’s signed Sol Rogers.”
“Then he must have been one of your ancestors,” Gordon declared.
“He was,” Rogers told them. “He was my grandfather about six times
removed. In his day he was a pretty well known whale hunter and,
according to the records, he was some man.”
“But how do you suppose that letter ever got in that trunk?” Bill asked.
“You know as much about it as I do. He was lost at sea and I don’t know
whether it was on that voyage or not.”
“Probably it wasn’t,” Gordon said. “If it had been I don’t see how that
letter ever got ashore.”
“I imagine you’re right. But take a look at the map and tell me what you
make of it.”
He spread the paper out on a small table and all three bent over it. It
was rather faint but very well drawn and, after a short inspection, Bill
said:
“Looks like the Hawaiian Islands to me, and this larger map over on this
side seems to be an enlargement of Molokai.”
“I think there’s little doubt about it,” Rogers told them. “The old
fellow must have been up on his geography because I’ve compared it with
a modern map and it matches almost perfectly.”
“And you think the platinum, or whatever it was, is still there?” Gordon
asked.
“That’s hard to say. What would you guess?” Rogers smiled.
“Seems to me he’d have taken it with him if he was rescued,” Bill gave
as his opinion.
“At first thought it would seem so,” Rogers said. “But when you come to
think of it it doesn’t seem so likely, or at least it doesn’t to me. In
the first place he wasn’t sure it was any good and then the ships of
that time usually carried a pretty tough crew and he might have been
afraid to take it on board. No, I think he left it there hoping to come
after it some other time if he found out it was worth it. Probably he
took a sample with him.”
“And perhaps he went back and got it,” Gordon suggested.
“I hardly think so or it would have been mentioned in the family
history. I looked and there was no word about it. My candid opinion is
that he never got back home.”
“Then how did the letter get in that trunk.” Gordon asked.
“Of course I can’t answer that,” Rogers smiled. “But there are several
explanations any one of which is possible.”
“Such as what?” Gordon asked.
“Well, for one the letter might have been placed in a tight box of some
kind and been washed ashore and someone found it and sent it to his
people.”
“Sounds pretty far fetched if you ask me,” Gordon declared, shaking his
head.
“Granted,” Rogers smiled. “But it got there some way that’s certain.”
“No doubt about that,” Bill broke in. “But what about it?”
“I’m going to see if I can find it,” Rogers told him slowly.
“You are?”
“Of course I fully realize that it’s more than likely to be a wild goose
chase,” Rogers told them, “but I’ve never been out there and I’m going
to have a try at it. That is if I can get two boys to go with me. I can
get a month’s leave of absence.”
“You mean you want us to go with you?” Gordon asked.
“That was the impression I was hinting at,” Rogers smiled.
“Molokai. Isn’t that where they send lepers?” Bill asked.
“Yes, there’s a leper colony there,” Rogers told him. “But you know
leprosy isn’t contagious.”
“Gee, but I’d like to try it,” Gordon declared. “How about you, Bill?”
“I’m on.”
“Fine. How about your parents? Will they want you to go?”
“Oh they won’t object,” Gordon assured him.
“But how’ll we go?” Bill asked. “I think you told us once that you had
promised your wife that you’d never fly again and that lets the
Albatross out.”
“Ah, but it doesn’t,” Rogers smiled. “You see, my wife is a pretty good
sport and when I told her about this find and explained how safe your
plane is she consented to let me go.”
“Then we can go in the old bird?”
“You bet. And if we find anything of value we’ll divide it three ways.”
“No, two ways. You half and Gordon and I the other half,” Bill insisted,
and neither he nor Gordon would agree to any other plan.
“Oh, well, we probably won’t find anything anyway so we won’t fight
about it,” Rogers finally gave up.