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THE MYSTERY
_of_
SEAL ISLANDS
_by_
HARRISON BARDWELL
[Illustration]
THE WORLD SYNDICATE PUBLISHING COMPANY
CLEVELAND, O. NEW YORK, N. Y.
Made in U. S. A.
Copyright, 1931
_by_
THE WORLD SYNDICATE PUBLISHING CO.
PRESS OF
THE COMMERCIAL BOOKBINDING CO.
CLEVELAND
CHAPTER I
A BITTER BLOW
“I say, Berta, thought you were going to do some work for that Mr. Howe
of the Federal Service. Did it fall through?”
“Haven’t heard much more about it, Harv,” Roberta answered her brother,
as she poured maple syrup over a serving of piping hot pancakes. Her
mother came in at that moment with a replenished bowl of oatmeal, and
she paused with an anxious glance at her young daughter.
“Hope you do not hear anything more about it, dear. I feel that your
activities in helping clear up the mystery at Lurtiss Field placed you
in any number of very dangerous situations. Being a pilot is hazardous
enough without adding to the difficulties by running down air-gangsters
of any kind,” she said soberly.
“Perhaps Mr. Howe has discovered that he does not require your
services. In work of that nature very often, when men on the job think
they have struck a hard snag, something comes up suddenly which clears
the matter so they do not require outside assistance,” remarked Mr.
Langwell, then smiled at his wife. “As a maker of pancakes, my dear,
you draw first prize. The only drawback to such a breakfast is a man’s
limited capacity.”
“You aren’t announcing that you have been limiting yourself!” Roberta
laughed.
“No, that isn’t my claim, but I have to confess that my limit is in
sight,” he told her.
“Tough luck, Dad. Now, I am only getting well started,” Roberta said,
then added to her mother, “If you drew prizes for all the good things
you cook you would have to have a museum for them as large as Colonel
Lindbergh’s in St. Louis.”
“Second the motion,” Harvey put in, then went on to his young sister,
“Who’s the lady you have been piloting along the coast the last couple
of weeks? Larry Kingsley told me she’s got loads of money and has taken
to taxiing about in the air with no particular objective.”
“Oh, that is Mrs. Pollzoff. Her husband used to be in the fur business
and when he died she sold her interest to a big syndicate, she told
me, because she knew there wasn’t much chance of her making a success
against such competition. She is keen on aviation, and bought herself a
plane but has never been able to get a license. I asked Mr. Trowbridge
and he said he thought it was because she showed very little judgment
in an emergency; she cracked-up three times, and they forbade her to
fly alone.”
“I should think they would,” Mrs. Langwell exclaimed indignantly.
“That’s all I know about her, except that she is madder than a dozen
wet hens at the government for depriving her of the right to fly; and
she seems to be interested in fishes.”
“Fishes?”
“Yes. She always carries a wonderful pair of glasses, and when we
are over the water orders that I fly low and as slowly as possible
while she examines the deep. I have to keep my eyes on the board, so I
haven’t been able to look at what attracts her attention especially,
but a couple of times she has seemed very pleased over what she
examined, and appears to admire the schools of fish we have followed
a couple of times. Guess it’s a hobby of hers, and she hasn’t anything
special to do, so she rides it--”
“Or rides the air,” Harvey laughed.
“Are you children riding in with me?” Mr. Langwell asked. “The time is
getting short.”
“I am, Dad, thanks. If you will take me as far as the subway in
Jamaica, I’ll land just in time for class,” Harvey answered.
“Phil will be here to pick me up, thank you,” Roberta replied, so,
as the meal was finished, and the last pancake had disappeared, they
left the table to start on the day’s occupations. Harvey raced up
the stairs, three at a jump, while his sister gave her mother a hand
straightening the dining room as she waited for Phil Fisher to take her
to the flying field.
“I hear the motor, my dear,” Mrs. Langwell interrupted. “You’d better
hurry.”
“He’s early this morning, but probably he has something to do before
schedule.” The girl hastened with her own preparations so that when the
young man appeared at the door she was properly helmeted and all ready
to take the air.
“Top of the morning to you,” Phil called cheerily. “Your esteemed
passenger wants to make an early start, so the boys will have Nike
warmed up for you and you can start as soon as you get to the field.”
“It’s mighty good of you to come and fetch me,” Roberta smiled at the
president’s son, who had not so many weeks before gone through a series
of exciting, dangerous air-adventures with her. But those things were
all in the day’s work and belonged to the past; the new day awaited
them.
“It isn’t much of a hop, and as Mrs. Pollzoff has all the earmarks of
being a good customer, she must be humored,” Phil grinned. “Just the
same, I’m glad they wished her on you and Nike instead of the Moth and
yours truly.”
“Well, it’s no particular fun piloting her. I wish she’d decide she
wants variety, and give you all a chance at the job,” Roberta told
him. They were making their way to where the Moth, Phil’s own imported
machine, waited to leap in the air with them. “I say, when is Mr. Howe
going to start that investigation he spoke of a few weeks ago. Heard
anything about it?”
“You are not so fed up on Mrs. Pollzoff that you want to get away from
us all, are you?” he demanded.
“No, of course not, but I was wondering what his plan was and what
happened to it, if anything,” Roberta answered.
“Glad to hear you do not want to leave. Gosh, to lose our only girl
sky-pilot would be--unthinkable; but, come to think of it, Howe came
to the house to see Dad one day last week, perhaps they are getting
it fixed up for you to take on the job. I heard the Old Man say the
Federal representative would be at the office today, so perhaps
you’ll get some information. Here we are.” They reached the plane and
Roberta climbed into the seat beside the pilot’s, adjusted straps and
parachute, while the young man gave his machine a thorough looking-over
then took his own place.
“Any idea what it’s all about?”
“A small one. Several governments--ours and a couple of others, are
trying to trace down illegal seal fishing; catch the lads who don’t
follow the rules. Contact.” They were off, and Roberta inquired no more
about the government work because Phil’s account of it sounded quite as
tame as piloting Mrs. Pollzoff. Presently the Moth dropped out of the
sky, landed near the office of the Lurtiss Airplane Company and a bit
later the girl sky-pilot presented herself at the private office of Mr.
Trowbridge for whom she worked when she first joined the organization
as a secretary. Mr. Wallace, one of the special instructors, was
already there, and when Roberta entered, they both rose to their feet
to wish her good morning.
“Anything special?” she asked when greetings were exchanged.
“Only Mrs. Pollzoff. She ought to be here any minute,” Mr. Trowbridge
replied.
“Howe is coming in this morning,” Mr. Wallace added.
“Phil told me--”
“Yes, and here I am,” Mr. Howe announced himself as he entered. “They
told me you were all in here, so I took the liberty of coming in
without knocking; I can go out the same way if you like.”
“You can stay here, without knocking,” Mr. Trowbridge hastened to
assure him. “I’m thinking Miss Langwell is glad to see you.”
“She has been handling a job that is dull as ditch-water,” Wallace put
in quickly.
“She will not find my work dull, but it will be cold, for it may take
her to the Bering Sea,” Mr. Howe informed them. “I expect to be ready
for her soon.”
“It sounds no end exciting,” Roberta said and her eyes sparkled. A
job that would take her to the Bering Sea appeared to have endless
possibilities and she was keenly interested. Just then the phone rang
and Mr. Trowbridge answered it.
“Your passenger has arrived,” he told Roberta.
“I’ll go right down.”
“See you later,” Mr. Howe called after her as she hurried away. Ten
minutes later Nike, her own prize plane, was taxied to the edge of the
field, where Roberta and her passenger, a tall, slender woman, whose
flying costume, however, gave her huge proportions, waited. The machine
came up just as Mr. Wallace and Mr. Howe, in the company’s carrying
automobile started for the further end of the field.
“There is to be a test for the racing machines this evening, Miss
Langwell,” the instructor called as he brought the car to a stop close
to where the two were standing. Roberta noticed that the Federal man
gave her companion a swift, all-inclusive glance, but since that was
the way with Mr. Howe, and he always looked everybody up and down, she
did not think anything about it.
“Hope I can watch it,” she replied.
“All set, Miss Langwell.” Nike came to a stop a few yards away, so,
forgetting everything else, Roberta turned her whole attention to the
task at hand. Presently all was ready, and in another moment, Nike was
leaping into the air, carrying her pilot and passenger up a steep climb
until they were well in the air, then her nose was leveled and she shot
east and south, as Mrs. Pollzoff designated the direction she wished to
take.
Having taken the woman every day for over two weeks, Roberta knew
pretty well how high and fast she preferred to travel, so they did
not waste any time on discussions, but shot ahead swiftly. Almost as
soon as she was seated, Mrs. Pollzoff got the powerful field glasses
out of their case, and as soon as they were over the water, trained
them on its smooth surface. The day was clear, the sky blue, and the
sea calm, so the task of piloting was not arduous, and Roberta let her
mind wander on speculations about her companion. That the woman was
wealthy was obvious, but for the first time the girl began to wonder
about her interest in things in the ocean. It occurred to her that the
woman might be looking for sunken vessels, or something of that nature,
but she had never let a word drop regarding what she sought. Then
it struck Roberta that she was a bit mysterious. Although it wasn’t
necessary for passengers to explain their businesses or hobbies, still
when anyone traveled day after day with the same pilot it was only
natural that they should establish more or less friendly relations and
exchange odds and ends about each other. Thinking it over carefully,
the girl realized that except for the facts that Mrs. Pollzoff’s
husband had come to the United States from Russia when he was a lad,
that he had gone into the fur business, and had been dead two years,
she knew nothing more than the bit of information gleaned in the office
regarding the failure to pass the flying tests to fly her own machine.
“Follow the coast south and keep outside the Government limit,” Mrs.
Pollzoff directed after they had been in the air about an hour. “Have
you plenty of gas? I want to remain up several hours.”
“Plenty,” Roberta assured her but she was becoming really puzzled
about her passenger. It could not be possible that Mrs. Pollzoff
was in search of vessels carrying liquor, for she never showed the
slightest interest in ships of any description when they were sighted,
but this was the first time she expressed a desire to keep beyond the
jurisdiction of the United States. The request was strange and the girl
pilot felt oddly disturbed by it.
But if Mrs. Pollzoff was doing anything forbidden by the laws of the
United States, she gave no sign of it during the hours which followed.
Her glasses swept the water as they had every other day, and if she
noticed the ships, large or small, plowing through them, she was
remarkably successful in keeping the fact to herself. Except for her
usual directions regarding the course they were to follow, she said
nothing more; and at noon she signified her desire to return to land.
She requested that they come down on the southern part of New Jersey,
but here she merely led the way to a restaurant where she ordered lunch
for both of them.
Seated across from her, Roberta noted that she might be about
thirty-five years old, and her mouth, which was rather large, was set
firmly, like a mask. Without consulting her companion, she ordered an
excellent meal, and after the first course was set before them, her
face relaxed somewhat, as if she suddenly realized her duties as a
hostess.
“You are an excellent pilot, Miss Langwell,” she remarked. There was
a musical quality to her voice, as if she might sing a good contralto,
and when her eyes softened it gave her features an expression of real
charm.
“Thank you,” Roberta replied, a bit at a loss. Since she had started to
wonder about her passenger a feeling of awkwardness came over her, and
she flushed with embarrassment.
“There is little money these days in commercial piloting, I am
informed,” Mrs. Pollzoff went on in a chatty sort of fashion as if she
were filling in the gap with small talk.
“I like the work,” the girl answered.
“You doubtless have many passengers and various experiences?”
“I guess we all do,” Roberta replied. Something inside her warned
her that perhaps it would be just as well if she did not become too
confidential over her work. Since she had won her own license she had
learned much about human nature, and every day she was adding to that
store of knowledge, either through her own experiences or those of her
co-pilots, so her bump of caution was developing rapidly.
“Ah, the waiter.” The man appeared and the meal was eaten almost in
silence. Twice Roberta tried to break the awkwardness of the situation,
but the replies from her companion were the briefest possible, so she
gave up the attempt after the second failure. She was glad when the
meal was over and they returned to Nike. They took their places and
several times during the return trip, the pilot saw her companion give
her short quick glances.
There was something about Mrs. Pollzoff which made Roberta recall the
time Phil had been employed to take an old man on regular trips to
Philadelphia. Young Fisher had described his passenger as “falling to
pieces,” but after a number of trips, Roberta had chanced to see the
pair in the air; the ancient man pressing a pistol to the back of his
pilot’s head. It wasn’t a pleasant memory, in fact it added greatly to
the girl’s uneasiness, but, if her companion’s intention was evil, she
gave no evidence of it. They reached the field in good time without
mishap, and as soon as they were out of the cockpit, the passenger
turned for an instant.
“Tomorrow I shall come at the same time.”
“Let them know at the office,” Roberta replied mechanically. Just at
that moment Phil’s Moth came roaring over the field and lighted close
by. He waved to Roberta, who waited for him.
“Have a wild time?”
“Wild as a plate of soup.” Roberta told him how she had spent the hours
and what had been passing through her mind. They walked slowly toward
the office and Phil listened thoughtfully.
“Wonder what her game is anyway? I’m going to tell Trowbridge to have
some--”
“I say, Kingsley.” Someone called the president’s son, and with a nod
to his companion, he strode off to see what was wanted.
Roberta proceeded, but as she went she wished she had not spoken to
Phil of her nervousness. Probably it was just silly and she certainly
didn’t want to be relieved of the responsibility because she was
afraid. After all, there wasn’t a thing in the world to be afraid of,
nothing but a collection of wild guesses. It was unlike the time the
“old man” had tried to appropriate the Moth, for then the country was
filled with horrible stories of “Blue Air-pirates,” but now everything
was as it should be. In fact, life was a bit dull except for the
unending joy of racing into the sky. By that time she reached Mr.
Trowbridge’s office, but as she opened the door she heard Mr. Wallace
saying angrily, “Well, I’ll be darned if I see it. Oh, oh, hello Miss
Langwell.” With that he rushed out of the room and banged the door so
hard that it jarred the place.
“Oh, er, oh,” Mr. Trowbridge glanced at her, then began to fumble with
some papers on his desk. “Wallace is a bit upset, you’ll have to excuse
him.”
“Sorry if I interrupted--”
“Er, no, you didn’t. That is, well, you have to be told--”
“Is something wrong, Mr. Trowbridge?” she asked quietly.
“Well, er, yes there is--”
“Anything happened to Mother or--”
“Oh, no, what a blundering ass I am; but, you know, it’s this way, the
stock market--well, you’ve heard how it broke a lot of people. We have
to--er, reduce expenses, er, you see--there was a meeting, and some of
the pilots have to go--I’m sorry, hate to lose you, hate it like fury,
and so does Wallace.”