Ghost Stories (9 page)

Just then a shout came from the deck. “Thar she blows! Off the starboard bow!”

Langton appeared in the doorway. “The lookout sighted a whale!” he shouted. “Frank and Joe Hardy, up on deck! And bring your harpoons!”

The men who had threatened the boys retreated sullenly. Frank and Joe walked through their ranks, reached the door, and hurried upstairs.

It was still dark, but the sea was calmer and the ship moved slowly across choppy waves.

With Captain Parker giving orders, a dozen men were getting a whaling boat ready for action. They lifted the vessel from its stanchions by means of chains and pulleys, and swung it over the side, where it hung suspended in the air.

As the Hardys watched, Frank wondered aloud, “How can there be whaling off Barmet Bay?”

Captain Parker heard him. “Barmet Bay?” he roared. “We have rounded Cape Horn and are now in the Pacific!”

Impulsively Joe asked, “How could we reach Cape Horn in one night? Even a nuclear-powered aircraft carrier couldn't move that fast!”

“What is an ‘aircraft carrier'?” Parker demanded suspiciously. “And what does ‘nuclear' mean?”

Joe shrugged. “Nobody will know for a hundred years.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The twentieth century!”

“You must be crazy,” Parker muttered. “You make no sense.”

Frank nudged Joe with his elbow, as if to say, “Easy! We don't need any more trouble!”

By now the whaleboat was ready to be manned. Sailors clambered in and took their places at the oars on either side. Langton stepped in amidships.

“Frank Hardy, you will be the harpooner. Get in the bow,” the first mate said. “Joe Hardy, you will steer the boat, so you get in the stern behind the tiller.”

When the boys were aboard, the men on the pulleys lowered the whaleboat into the water, and the oarsmen pulled away from the
Samoa Queen.
Joe followed Langton's orders and worked the tiller back and forth to keep on course. Frank braced himself in the bow with the harpoon in his hand.

“There is the whale's waterspout!” Langton cried. “Joe Hardy, veer to the left!”

Joe moved the tiller. “I don't see anything over there,” he declared.

“Then you are no whaler! Follow my orders or you will walk the plank!”

The boat continued to the left over the dark water. A single star peeped through the murky clouds overhead. The oars rose and fell rhythmically.

“This is the place,” Langton declared. “Frank Hardy, throw your harpoon!”

Frank shook his head. “There's no whale here!” he protested.

“Yes, there is! Throw your harpoon!” the first mate bawled at him.

Frank hurled his harpoon deep into the water. Then he drew it in by the rope attached to it. Secretly, he was glad he hit nothing.

Langton shook with fury. “You lost the whale! You let him get away!”

Joe came to Frank's support. “I didn't see any whale, either.”

“Then you steered the wrong way!” Langton shouted. “I will report you both to Captain Parker when we get back to the
Samoa Queen.
Circle the area. Maybe I will spot the whale again. And this time, Frank Hardy, you had better catch him!”

Joe shifted the tiller and the oarsmen strained at the oars. Frank kept scanning the water in the bow. The boat moved around and around.

Seeing no sign of the whale, Langton finally gave up and ordered a return to the
Samoa Queen.
The whaleboat was lifted aboard and replaced on its stanchions.

“We lost the whale!” the first mate reported to the captain. “The Hardys were responsible.”

Parker was infuriated. “Lock them up!” he commanded.

The boys were pushed downstairs and put into a barred cell used as the ship's prison. Then the door banged shut and they were left alone. A whale-oil lantern illuminated two wooden bunks and a small table in the middle of the room. The brothers sat down and looked at each other.

“This is getting weirder and weirder,” Joe said. “We're on a phantom ship, being held prisoner by a crew of ghosts!”

“Done in by a ghost whale,” Frank added morosely.

Joe pinched his lower lip. “Yet Langton said he saw the whale.”

“It's his word against ours, Joe, and you know who Parker will believe. Besides, Langton's a ghost himself! Why couldn't he see a whale that isn't there?”

“What do you think they'll do with us?” Joe asked.

Frank shrugged and the Hardys fell silent. Both were thinking about Parker's threat to feed them to the sharks.

“Are there such things as ghost sharks?” Joe went on. “The kind that don't really eat you?”

“Let's hope so,” Frank replied.

A sound on the stairs interrupted them. They jumped up and listened as footsteps came toward them. Only one man was approaching, so the boys stepped into the middle of the room and waited to see what would happen.

Corkin appeared, carrying a harpoon in his right hand.

“So you lost the whale,” he sneered at them. “You do not know how to steer a boat or how to harpoon a fish. I should have been there. No whale ever gets away from me!”

Frank chuckled. “I believe you're jealous because I went along as a harpooner instead of you,” he said.

Corkin raised his weapon and hurled it between the bars. It was aimed directly at Joe, who did not have time to dodge out of the way.

But Frank had anticipated the attack. He tipped the table up in the air in front of his brother. The harpoon plunged into the top and pierced the wood. Its sharp point came right through on the other side, only inches from Joe! He wiped a trickle of sweat from his face as Frank wrenched the harpoon from the table.

“Corkin, that's the second time you've thrown this thing at us. Now it's your turn to be on the wrong end!” the older Hardy cried. He lifted the weapon and rushed forward. Corkin turned pale, backed away, and fled up the stairs to the deck.

Frank tossed the harpoon into a corner of the cell and laughed. “I wasn't really going to spear him, just wanted to scare him off. Anyway, he doesn't have his toy anymore. I wonder how he'll explain that to the first mate the next time they go after a whale!”

Suddenly another footfall could be heard on the stairs.

“Probably Corkin again,” Joe said apprehensively. “Maybe he's coming for another round with us.”

“Well, we'll be ready this time,” Frank vowed and retrieved the harpoon. He held it up defensively, but a moment later he lowered it as he realized the newcomer was Orne.

The sailer shuffled toward the bars, all the while glancing over his shoulder. “I should not be here, mates,” he whispered. “I am on duty up top. But there is something I wanted to tell you.”

“What is it?” Joe inquired.

“Captain Parker has it in for you. He is keeping
you locked up because he may need you before the voyage is over. But he will throw you to the sharks before we return to Nantucket.”

“We'd better get out of here,” Frank said. “Can't you help us?”

“All we want is a fighting chance to save ourselves,” Joe added.

Orne shook his head. “I am just an ordinary deckhand. There is no way I can release you. It would do no good, either. We are in the middle of the ocean. What would you do? Swim a thousand miles to land?”

Joe became excited. “Perhaps we could launch a whaleboat and get away.”

Orne shook his head again. “There is always someone watching the deck from the wheelhouse. You would be spotted. Besides, it takes more than two to launch a whaleboat. Now that you know what to expect, I would like you to tell me something.”

“Sure,” Joe said. “After all, you took a chance coming down here and warning us.”

“Why do you talk so strangely?” Orne wanted to know. “Here it is 1850, and you mention the twentieth century and power other than sails. Are you clairvoyant?”

The boys exchanged baffled glances. How could they make him understand?

“We can't tell him we think he's a ghost,” Joe murmured to Frank.

“It's a question of time,” Frank replied loudly to the man's question. “We cannot tell what time it is. By centuries, anyway.”

Orne pointed to a calendar on the wall. The numbers 1850 were written on it in large letters.

“I guess that has to be the year as long as we're aboard ship,” Joe commented.

Orne frowned. “You two have not escaped from an asylum, have you?” he asked anxiously.

“No, we haven't,” Frank assured him, “But we'd sure like to escape from this ship!”

Orne nodded. “I will help you later if I can. Now I have to get back on duty.” The sailor vanished up the stairs.

Frank lay down on his bunk with his hands behind his head. Joe sat on the table with his legs dangling over the edge. They discussed their predicament, using their detective training to analyze the facts.

“The trouble is,” Frank observed, “we can't figure out what to do since we're dealing with phantoms. They kidnapped us, but how do you outwit somebody who lived in 1850?”

Joe scratched his head. “We'll have to play it by ear, Frank. I tell you what. If Captain Parker lets us out of here, let's show him we're good sailors. If we're handy enough around the ship, maybe he'll change his mind about dumping us overboard.”

“Good thinking. It may be our only chance. But you know something,” Frank added, glancing at his wristwatch. “It's only a few hours since we were picked up from the
Sleuth.
How can all these things have happened to us?”

Joe was about to say something when an odd
feeling made him turn his head. He was startled to see a man in sailor's garb at the door to their cell. Struck by Joe's amazed expression, Frank raised his head and looked in the same direction.

The man stood, silently gazing at them. He was a ghostly figure with a gleaming white face and long, tapering white fingers clutching one of the bars. His face had no expression, and his blue eyes were fixed on them.

“How did he get here?” Joe mumbled. “I didn't hear him come down the stairs.”

Frank sat up. “Neither did I. He doesn't look like one of the crew.”

Suddenly the weird stranger beckoned to them to follow him.

“Who are you?” Frank demanded. “And why should we go with you?”

“It's impossible, anyhow,” Joe pointed out. “The first mate locked the door when they threw us in here. Unless you have a key?”

To their astonishment, the man pulled the door open. He gestured at them again by crooking his finger.

“He doesn't need a key!” Joe gulped.

“We might as well go with him,” Frank advised. “Maybe he'll show us how to escape from this tub. But he could be dangerous, too, so watch out.”

Joe nodded and the Hardys stepped out of the cell. Their eerie guide closed the door silently, then walked to the stairs and started up. His feet made no sound as he ascended to the deck.

The uncanny silence unnerved the Hardys. Joe got goose bumps, and Frank felt a cold chill run down his spine.

At the top of the stairs, the man stepped out on deck and started toward the stern of the ship. Frank and Joe stopped at the doorway and cautiously peered through to see if anyone was there. But the whale-oil lantern flickering in the darkness told them the deck was empty.

Their silent guide turned and once more beckoned to them. Obediently, they followed him across the deck.

They felt the up-and-down sweep of the stern as it rose and fell under the surge of great waves. Looking down, they saw the water churning into a bubbling white froth. Out of the black, starless sky came the harsh scream of a seabird.

The uncanny stranger stopped and stared at the Hardys with eyes that never blinked.

What's he going to do now? Frank asked himself. Will he try to push us overboard?

Suddenly the man pointed into the darkness directly astern. Straining their eyes, the Hardys were able to make out the bow of a ship! It was following the
Samoa Queen!

The mysterious sailor pointed down into the water and then at the bow of the ship.

Joe was galvanized. “He's telling us to swim to that ship! It's near enough, so let's go!” He mounted the rail and prepared to dive into the ocean.

Frank took Joe by the elbow. “Wait a minute. Let's make sure that that's really what he means.”

They turned to face their strange escort once more, but the man had vanished! Speechless, the boys looked over the stern again. The ship was gone, too!

The Hardys were thunderstruck. Joe climbed down from the rail.

“Are we seeing things?” he asked. “Are we suffering from hallucinations?”

“I don't know,” Frank replied.

A voice suddenly spoke behind them. “Mates, you are taking a big chance!”

They whirled around. Orne stood there, his face worried. “I was on duty in the wheelhouse,” he explained. “That is how I saw you come on deck. I do not know how you escaped from the jail, but if you get caught, you will have a long swim home!”

Joe was perplexed. “Did you see where that other sailor went?” he inquired.

“What other sailor? You two are alone. There is no one else on deck with you and no one was here before.”

“What about the ship following the
Samoa Queen?”
Frank asked.

Orne looked at them as if they were insane. “There is no other ship. Now, go back below and rest. Langton will be coming on inspection anytime now. He better not see you up top!”

Orne left and the Hardys quickly made their way back to their cell. The door swung open when Frank pulled it, but when he let it close behind them, it locked itself!

“Even the door's jinxed,” he muttered.

The boys lay down on their bunks trying to sort out the weird events they had just been through.

Joe was the first to speak. “That sailor must have been an apparition among ghosts!”