PRIVATE PROPERTY
The Hardy boys explained their plan to Tony Prito, who promised to ask
his father about the motorboat provided they allowed him to go with
them.
“I wouldn’t miss it for anything,” he said. “You let me come along on
this trip with you and I’ll see that we get the boat.”
“We wouldn’t go without you, Tony,” promised Frank.
“I’ll have the boat to-morrow afternoon. Be at the boathouse.”
Tony was as good as his word. When Frank and Joe appeared at the little
boathouse, one of a long row of ramshackle buildings along the shore,
next afternoon, they found Tony clad in a greasy suit of overalls,
tinkering with the engine. He was of a mechanical turn of mind and
could never see an engine of any kind without investigating its most
intricate machinery.
“She’ll run as smoothly as a sewing machine,” he declared, looking up.
“We can start any time.”
“Your father let you have the boat, all right.”
“You bet. I told him it was to help find your father, and he was almost
going to quit work and come along with us.”
The boys got into the motorboat, which was a rangy, powerful craft with
graceful lines, and the engine was soon roaring. The boat, which was
called the _Napoli_ in honor of Mr. Prito’s birthplace in Italy,
moved slowly out into the waters of the bay and then gathered speed as
it headed toward the gloomy cliffs at the northern extremity of Barmet
Bay.
It was already late in the afternoon. The sky was overcast and the bay
was rough. The salt spray dashed over the bows of the _Napoli_ as
it plunged on through the breakers. Bayport soon became a smoky haze
on the hillside. The boys could see the white line of the shore road
rising and falling on the coast to the north and at last they came
within sight of the Kane farm, nestled among the trees.
The cliff upon which the Polucca place stood was stark and sheer
against the background of ocean and sky, and at the top they could see
the grove of trees and the roof and chimneys of the haunted house.
“Lonely looking place,” remarked Joe.
“Pretty steep cliff,” Tony observed. “I can’t see how any one could
make his way up and down that slope to get to the house.”
“That’s just why nobody has thought of the possibility of the place as
a smuggling base,” said Frank, “It doesn’t look possible. But perhaps
when we look around we’ll find that things are different.”
Tony steered the boat closer in toward the shore so that it would not
be visible from the Polucca place. Then he slackened speed so that the
roar of the engine would not be so noticeable, and the craft made its
way along toward the bottom of the cliff.
There were currents here that demanded skilful navigation, but Tony
brought the _Napoli_ through them easily and at last the boat was
surging along close to the face of the cliff. The boys scanned the
formidable wall of rock eagerly.
It was scarred and seamed and at the base had been eaten away by the
battering of the waves. Time passed, and there was no indication of a
path and the lads were disappointed.
The cliff jutted up out of very deep water and rose to a great height.
From the boat they were unable to see the Polucca place, for it was set
in a short distance from the edge of the cliff. The face of the steep
rock was uncompromising. There seemed to be no foothold for man or
beast. It was just an unscalable, craggy wall.
Suddenly Tony bore down on the wheel. The _Napoli_ swerved swiftly
to one side and at the same time the engine roared as the craft leaped
ahead.
Frank and Joe looked quickly around.
“What’s the matter?” they asked, in alarm.
But Tony was gazing fixedly ahead. He was tense and alert. Another
shift of the wheel and the _Napoli_ swerved again.
Then the Hardy boys saw the danger.
There were rocks at the base of the cliff. One of them, black and
sharp, like an ugly tooth, jutted out of the water almost immediately
at the side of the boat. Only Tony’s quick eye had saved them from
striking against it. They had blundered into a veritable maze of reefs
which extended for several yards ahead.
They held their breath.
It seemed impossible that they could run the gauntlet of those rocks
without tearing the bottom out of the craft. But Tony’s steersmanship
was marvelous. The motorboat threaded its way accurately among the
jutting rocks. There was always the chance that a submerged reef might
rip through the hull of the craft, but they had to take chances on that.
But luck was with them. The _Napoli_ dodged the last ugly rock,
and shot forward into open water.
Tony sank back with a sigh of relief.
“Whew, that was close!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t see those rocks until
we were right on top of them. If we’d ever struck one of them we would
have been goners.”
The Hardy boys believed him. Angry waves dashed against the base of the
cliff. They would not have lived more than a few minutes if they had
been wrecked in this place. They would have been battered to pieces
against the rocks.
Suddenly, before them, they saw an opening in the side of the cliff. It
was a long, narrow cove.
The entrance was like the neck of a bottle, widening as it led into the
cliff, and it was over-shadowed by jutting rocks. It had been quite
invisible up to this time, and the boat had gone only a few yards
further before it became invisible again, so well was the opening
hidden by the rocks.
“Here’s a find!” exclaimed Frank, in excitement. “Let’s turn back and
see where this goes to.”
Tony swung the boat around and the craft slowly made its way back
toward the hidden cove. Soon the opening in the cliff came into view
again.
“It’s just large enough for the boat to go through,” said Tony. “Want
me to try it?”
Frank nodded.
“Go ahead.”
The nose of the boat turned toward this strange bay and then the
_Napoli_ began to enter the cove.
“Maybe I won’t be able to get out again,” said Tony suddenly. He looked
ahead. But the passage widened into a bay of considerable extent, quite
sufficient in size to enable him to turn the craft around once he had
entered. So he continued.
But the cove proved uninteresting. The sides were steep, although dense
bushes grew about the base of the slopes, but there was no path, no
trail, no indication that any human being had ever been in the place.
Being protected from the wind, the water was calm. The echoes of the
motorboat’s engine were flung back from every side in a roaring volume.
Suddenly Frank gave a gasp of surprise!
Standing among the thickets at the base of the steepest slope, was a
man.
He was very tall and he wore a black felt hat, the wide brim of which
obscured the upper part of his face. His countenance was tanned and
weatherbeaten, his lips were thin and cruel. He wore a short black
jacket, and he stood with his hands plunged into the side-pockets and
his feet spread wide apart, in the manner of a seaman.
He was standing there quietly, gazing at them without a shadow of
expression on his sinister face, as motionless as a statue.
When he saw that he was observed he called out:
“Leave this place!”
Tony throttled down the engine. The three boys stared at the man in the
black hat as though he were an apparition.
“Leave this place!” he repeated, in a curiously metallic voice.
“We aren’t doing any harm,” replied Frank.
“Not now,” said the stranger. “But don’t land here.”
“Why?”
“You don’t have to ask why. This is private property. You can’t land
here. You’d better leave at once.”
The boys hesitated. As though to emphasize his commands, the man in
the black hat reached suddenly into his pocket and whipped out a
wicked-looking revolver. Then he folded his arms, tapping the barrel of
the revolver against one shoulder very deliberately.
“Turn that boat around and get out of here!” he snapped. “Don’t come
back. Don’t ever come back. Don’t ever try to land here. This is
private property. If you ever _do_ land here you’ll be shot.”
The boys were unarmed. They realized that nothing would be gained by
argument. Tony slowly brought the boat around.
“Good-bye,” shouted Joe cheerfully.
The stranger did not reply. He stood there, gazing fixedly after them,
his arms still folded, still tapping the revolver against his shoulder
as the motorboat made its way out of the strange bay, out into open
water.
“Looks as if he didn’t want us around,” remarked Tony, as soon as the
_Napoli_ was out of the cove.
“I’ll say he didn’t!” exclaimed Frank. “What a wicked-looking customer
he was! I expected to see him start popping at us with that gun of his
before we got out.”
“I don’t want to run into _him_ again,” Joe declared. “He sure
gave us our orders. And he meant ’em, too.”
“I wonder who he is,” said Tony.
“Do you think—Fellows! do you think it could have been Snackley?”
shouted Frank.