The Mystery of the Chinese Junk

Table of Contents

 

 

 

“We'll crash!” Jim Foy cried out

Copyright © 1988, 1960 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.

All rights reserved. Published by Grosset & Dunlap, Inc., a member of The Putnam &
Grosset Group, New York. Published simultaneously in Canada. S.A.
THE HARDY BOYS® is a registered trademark of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Grosset & Dunlap, Inc.

eISBN : 978-1-101-07652-1

2008 Printing

“JOE, look out! That launch will hit you!” shouted Frank Hardy from the beach.

A split second before, his brother Joe had surfaced after a dive off a float. Now the launch was almost on top of him!

“That's Clams Dagget's boat!” Frank cried to two companions, Tony Prito and Biff Hooper. All stared ahead in horror.

A third boy, plump Chet Morton, who had been bobbing like a cork in the cool, blue water, had seen the oncoming launch and dived under the float with Joe Hardy. The craft roared off, the pilot paying no attention to the two swimmers. In a moment they came to the surface and swam ashore to join the others.

“Whew! That was close!” Chet gasped. “Thought I was a goner. Clams must be going blind!”

“He's as absent-minded as they come!” Joe stormed, panting.

“He sure is,” Tony agreed. “I don't see why the town of Bayport lets him run a ferry service to Rocky Isle.”

“Probably because no one else has a boat big enough or wants the job,” Biff suggested.

Suddenly Frank grinned. “Maybe we fellows can run a service of our own—in a Chinese junk from Hong Kong. I know where one is for sale cheap.”

The dark-haired boy, a year older than his blond brother, said that their Chinese-American friend, Jim Foy, had told him only the day before about the boat.

“Jim's cousin lives in New York City,” Frank explained, “and works as a salesman at a place in Staten Island where the junks are sold. New ones cost plenty, but the company isn't even advertising this secondhand boat. They're asking only a fraction of its original value.”

“Say, that sounds neat,” Joe broke in. “And a ferry business would solve our summer work problem.”

It was a bright June afternoon, a few days after Bayport High had closed for vacation. The five boys had gathered for a swim and to make plans for earning money during the next two months.

“You mean we'd charge passengers for picnic excursions to Rocky Isle?” Biff asked.

As Frank nodded, Tony remarked, “Good idea, if we could raise enough money to buy the junk, and provided it's seaworthy.”

“It might have an interesting history,” Frank said, not at all discouraged by Tony. “The junk may once have belonged to a Chinese pirate and have jade treasure hidden aboard!”

“How can we lose?” Biff declared with a grin.

“A real Chinese junk would sure attract attention here on Barmet Bay,” Chet remarked.

The price of the junk was several hundred dollars, but after much figuring, all the boys except Chet decided that they could raise equal shares from their savings.

“Gosh, fellows, I'm sorry,” said Chet. “But you know I've just bought all that spelunking equipment and I—”

Joe grinned. “You can take out your share in work,” he said, whereupon the stout boy groaned. The last thing Chet ever wanted to do was work!

“It's more fun exploring caves than swabbing decks,” he mumbled. “But I can put in fifty dollars. Who's going to make up the difference in the amount we need?”

“Jim Foy might, if he got a share of the profits,” Tony suggested.

“Okay. What's stopping us?” said Joe eagerly. “Is it a deal?”

The five high school chums shook hands solemnly, then pulled on their slacks and T shirts.

It was decided that the boys would get their parents' permission for the trip first, then Frank would contact Jim Foy and ask him to telephone for an option to buy the secondhand junk from Hong Kong. If everything was in order, the boys would leave the next morning by bus for New York City.

Tony and Biff went off with Chet Morton in his fire-engine-red jalopy. Hopping into their own yellow convertible, the Hardys drove back to their pleasant, tree-shaded home at the corner of High and Elm streets.

As Frank and Joe came in the kitchen door, they were greeted by Miss Gertrude Hardy, their father's tall, angular sister, who now lived with him and his family.

“Supper will be on the table in a minute,” Aunt Gertrude said, lifting a flaky-crusted beef pie from the oven.

“Mm! Does that smell good!” Joe exclaimed. “Double helping for me, please!”

“Same here!” Frank added, sniffing the delicious aroma.

“Never mind the flattery about the food.” Miss Hardy waved them off, but Frank and Joe observed a pleased expression on her face. “It's a wonder this crust isn't burnt to a crisp with you two getting home so late,” she scolded.

The boys, chuckling, went to wash their hands. Although their aunt was sometimes peppery in manner, the brothers were as fond of her as she was of them.

When they came to the table, Frank and Joe each found an extra-large serving on his plate and exchanged knowing grins. Aunt Gertrude poured milk into their glasses, then said with a sigh:

“Don't know what ails me today. I just seem to ache in all my joints.”

“That's too bad, Aunty,” Frank said sympathetically as he held her chair and she sat down. “You rest after supper. Joe and I will wash the dishes.”

“And break half of them most likely!” Miss Hardy retorted. But her face softened. “Still, it's a kind offer. I may accept.”

As the brothers ate, they asked Aunt Gertrude if she had heard from their parents, who were now in California. Fenton Hardy, once a crack detective on the New York City police force, had retired to the thriving seaside town of Bayport, where clients from all over the country sought his services as a private investigator. At present, he was at work on a case in Los Angeles, seeking to track down an international thief known as the “Chameleon.” Mrs. Hardy had flown to the West Coast with her husband for a vacation.

“Your father,” Aunt Gertrude replied, “phoned this afternoon. He said to tell you boys that if you want to help him out on this case, keep your eyes open for a pair of rare gold cuff links with a bluish amber tiger set in them. They've been reported stolen in Hong Kong and smuggled into this country. In your father's sleuthing he learned that the Chameleon, who collects priceless jewelry, is trying to get hold of such a pair. If you find them, you may also find the Chameleon.”

“It sounds like hunting for a needle in a haystack,” Frank remarked, “but if we should come across either the cuff links or the Chameleon, we'll certainly let Dad know.”

Though amateur detectives, the brothers had solved many mysteries, and hoped to follow careers similar to that of their father. From
The Tower Treasure
through their latest adventure in Alaska,
The Mystery at Devil's Paw,
Frank and Joe had experienced many exciting and dangerous adventures.

Suddenly Frank clapped a hand to his head. “Aunt Gertrude, I almost forgot. Joe and I have another project.”

The brothers outlined their scheme for purchasing the Chinese junk. Then, with quickened pulses, they awaited Miss Hardy's reaction.

“Well,” she said finally. “If it'll keep you boys occupied this summer, I guess it's all right. By the way, where is the money for your share coming from?”

“We have some in Dad's safe up in his study,”

Joe replied. “It's the reward money Frank and I got for finding that lost child. A brand-new one-hundred-dollar bill for each of us.”

Frank got up and hurried to the telephone. After learning that Biff, Tony, and Chet were also set for the trip to buy the junk, Frank called Jim Foy. The Chinese-American boy was amazed to hear the proposal and excused himself for a few minutes to speak to his parents. Returning, he said:

“My good parents say I may go. I will phone my cousin at once and have him place an option on the junk. When shall I meet you fellows?”

“Just before ten o'clock tomorrow. Bus terminal.”

“I'll be there. This is a terrific break for me.”

Frank returned to the table to find Joe urging his aunt to retire. She agreed, adding that she was disgusted with herself for not feeling as strong and vigorous as she generally did.

“Anything else we can do for you—besides wash the dishes?” Frank asked.

“Yes. Try to be quiet. Noise makes my head hurt. If you want to watch TV or do anything else, please go to the recreation room in the basement.”