over the broken railing and jumped feet first, landing
with her arms outstretched to keep from plunging too
deep. Still, the cold water closed over her like a black
curtain. Immediately, she brought her arms down to
her sides and kicked hard, breaking the surface.
When she looked around, she couldn't tell where
Harold had fallen in.
“Nancy! There are bubbles to your left!” Janie called
from the deck above.
Nancy swam to the spot where Janie was pointing.
She swept her arms through the water and connected
with something solid. It was Harold's arm. Grasping it,
she pulled. Slowly, he came to the surface. His skin was
blue, but when his head popped above water, he began
to gasp for air.
Just then someone came swimming around the stern
of the boat. When the person drew closer, Nancy
recognized Karl, the Blackbeard actor.
“I'll tow him in!” Karl called. Grabbing Harold in a
lifesaving hold, he swam toward the pier. Nancy
followed. A curious throng stared at them from the
pier.
When Nancy reached the side of the pier, several
people reached down to pull her up.
Janie rushed over, a towel in her hand. “Are you all
right?” When Nancy nodded, Janie draped the towel
over her shoulders.
As she dried her face, Nancy glanced around.
“Where are Karl and Harold?”
“Over here.” Saying “Excuse me, excuse me,” Janie
led Nancy through the crowd. Karl had laid Harold
down and was kneeling next to him. He was bending
over to perform mouth-to-mouth resuscitation when
Harold pushed him away. “Get out of here, you big
gorilla, I'm fine!”
Coughing and sputtering, Harold sat up. His hair
was plastered to his head, and his skin was tinged with
grime.
“Should we call the rescue squad?” Janie asked.
“You don't look so hot.”
Harold shivered. “I'm fine. When I went under I
swallowed a mouthful of water. Then I panicked and
got disoriented. The water was so muddy I couldn't see
anything. Then I felt someone grab my arm. Karl, was
that you?”
“Nope. It was our new assistant director, Nancy
Drew.” Grinning, he waved at Nancy. “For once
Andrew has done something right. He hired someone
with guts.”
“And someone who could swim,” Harold added
grimly. “Thank you, Nancy.”
“Let me through. Let me through!” a voice called,
and a second later, Andrew pushed past Nancy and
squatted next to Harold. “Hey, buddy, is my best sound
and light man all right?”
Harold gave him a weak grin. “Yeah, I'm okay.
Thanks to your assistant. A hot shower and dry clothes
and I'll be as good as new.”
“Great.” With a worried expression, Andrew glanced
around. “Where's the microphone?”
“Microphone?” Harold stared at him.
“Yeah. The shotgun microphone you were holding
when you went overboard.” When Harold didn't
respond, Andrew looked up at Nancy.
“I didn't see the microphone,” she said. “It must
have gone under.”
“Karl? Did you see it?” Andrew asked anxiously.
“Nope. I was too busy pulling Harold in.”
“Oh, great.” With a groan of dismay, Andrew
clapped a hand to his head. “It was brand-new!
Somebody needs to jump in and find it.”
For a second Nancy wasn't sure she'd heard him
correctly. She glanced over at Janie, Harold, and Karl,
and saw that they looked just as surprised.
Finally Harold said, “I guess it'll have to be you,
Andrew. Nobody else is crazy enough to dive in on
purpose. Plus, the water's so muddy, you'd never find
the microphone.”
“Well, that's just terrific.” Andrew jumped up. “One
more problem to add to my list of headaches,” he said
before stomping off.
“What was that all about?” Karl asked.
Janie sighed. “He's under a lot of pressure.”
Harold snorted. “He was more worried about the
microphone than he was about me.”
Nancy turned to Karl. Water dripped off his brows
and mustache. “Thanks for towing Harold in.”
“My pleasure. I'm Karl Kidd, by the way.” Grabbing
her hand with a huge paw, he shook it so hard Nancy
winced. “Otherwise known as Blackbeard.”
“And I'm Harold, soaking wet,” Harold announced
as he stood up.
“Well, forget the hot shower and dry clothes,” Janie
said. “Andrew plans to block scene three in ten
minutes. He wants everybody there. And you know
how he is about keeping to the schedule.”
“But I'm wet and cold!” Harold protested.
Pulling the towel from her shoulder, Nancy handed
it to Harold. “Use this. The sun's so warm, we'll be dry
in a minute.”
When the four started back to the ship, Karl asked,
“So what happened, Harold? Were you practicing for
your big man overboard' scene?”
“Very funny, Kidd. Actually, I'm not sure what
happened.”
“A coil of rope fell from one of the masts,” Nancy
explained. “Fortunately, someone yelled heads up'
before you were hit.”
“That was Lian,” Janie said. “Lucky she saw the rope
fall.”
“A rope, huh?” Stopping at the bottom of the
gangplank, Karl wiggled his thick brows. “Someone out
to get you, Oates? A jealous girlfriend?”
Harold rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. I'm such a lady-
killer.”
As Nancy followed them up, she suddenly realized
that everything had happened so quickly, she hadn't
even thought about the falling rope. Was it possible
that someone had deliberately dropped it? she
wondered.
When she reached the ship's deck, Nancy stopped to
let the others go ahead. Shielding her eyes with her
hand, she stared up at the mizzen-mast. It was a web of
sails, yards, and rigging. Nancy knew from her research
that sailors used the rope ratlines as ladders to climb
from the lower masts to the top masts.
In the confusion, someone could have clambered up
or down the ratlines without anyone noticing. But why
would someone want to hurt Harold? Nancy thought.
“Where's my assistant director?” A loud voice
boomed over the ship. Nancy recognized Andrew's
bellow. When she went up the steps to the
quarterdeck, she saw the cast and crew gathering on
the starboard side of the stern.
Selena, George, and Daniel, who were the actors in
scene three, stood by the railing in their regular
clothes. Karl and Janie and Harold were standing on
the sidelines. Harold had gone over to get another
microphone. A camera and several lights had been set
up.
Tucking her damp hair behind her ears, Nancy
hurried over. She stuck her hand in her short
s pocket.
Her list of things to do was soaked, but from the
impatient expression on Andrew's face, she realized
she wouldn't have time to work on it anyway.
When she reached Andrew, he thrust a roll of
masking tape into her hands. “We're blocking scene
three. You're in charge of taping the actors' marks.”
Nancy nodded. “Blocking a scene” meant the
director and cameraperson figured out the best camera
shots.
“For the beginning of this scene, Daniel and George
will face each other,” Andrew instructed. “Selena, you
lean on the railing, staring out to sea.”
“But my back will be turned to the audience!”
Selena protested.
“Fortunately, you have a gorgeous back. Lian, how
do you think that will look?” Andrew asked, ignoring
Selena's frown of displeasure.
Lian was sitting behind the camera. Because of the
uneven surface of the deck, the camera's wheels had
been mounted on a track on the plywood. “It looks
great,” she said. “Let me try a close-up next.”
Andrew pointed to Selena's sandaled feet. “Nancy,
put tape on the board right here,” he instructed. “And
over here—”
Nancy hustled forward. Actors' marks let the actors
know where to stand during a scene and were used to
keep track of the blocking. The characters in movies
might act naturally, but Nancy had learned from her
filmmaking course that every move was carefully
planned. For each scene, a few different angles were
shot. When it was edited later, some of the shots were
discarded while others were put together so the film
would make sense visually.
Bending, Nancy taped several X's on the plywood.
As soon as she finished, she helped Lian move the
camera for a different angle. Usually this was the job of
the dolly grip. But since the budget was tight, everyone
had many different roles and jobs.
By the end of the afternoon, one scene had been
blocked. Nancy was exhausted. Her hair had dried in a
tangle, her clothes felt stiff, and she smelled faintly of
dead fish.
When Andrew finally announced, “That's it for
today,” everybody cheered.
“Dinner's on your own tonight,” Janie called over
the hubbub. “Be here tomorrow morning at eight
sharp. Breakfast will be served onboard.”
“Whew.” George came over. “I'm pooped on the
poop deck.” Her face was bright red under the brim of
her baseball cap.
“Me, too.” Nancy leaned against the railing. “I didn't
realize how much work was involved in blocking one
scene. And shooting takes even longer. What's the rule
of thumb we learned?” Nancy thought a second, then
answered her own question, “Eight hours of shooting
produces six minutes of film.”
George groaned. “Does that mean I have to listen to
Selena gripe for eight straight hours?”
Nancy laughed. “Maybe she'll lighten up. Ready to
go back to the hotel?”
“In a minute. I need to get my fanny pack. It's in the
dressing room.”
“I'll go with you,” Nancy said, following her. “I'd like
to see the rest of the ship.”
The two girls climbed down the wooden ladder to
the waist of the ship. Taking a sharp left, George led
Nancy to an open doorway. A short flight of steps
descended to a narrow passageway.
Nancy went down the steps, ducking to avoid a
lantern that hung from the low ceiling. She saw several
closed doors on each side of the dim passageway and
one at the far end.
“Daniel told me this is called steerage,” George
explained. She pointed to the door at the far end.
“That's the Great Cabin, where Daniel and Andrew are
staying. That opening over there”—she pointed to a
half-door in the wall—“leads to the cargo area, where
the props are kept.”
Bending lower, Nancy stuck her head through the
doorway. A wooden ladder led straight into a gray pit.
“Why are the props kept all the way down there?”
“They were in one of the cabins in steerage until
Selena came,” George explained. Opening one of the
cabin doors, she gestured inside. “She refused to share
this dressing room with anyone. So they kicked Eli and
the props out of this cabin and gave it to her.”
Brows raised, Nancy stepped inside. The dressing
room was tiny. A low wooden shelf lulling from the wall
was heaped with clothes. The other wall had two
mirrors hanging over a higher narrow shelf piled with
makeup, brushes, and bottles. The third wall had pegs
to hang clothes. Since there was no porthole, the cabin
was stuffy and lighted only by one lantern.
“Can't say I blame her,” Nancy murmured.
“Everybody except Selena uses this cabin,” George
explained, coming in to stand next to Nancy. “So it's a
mite crowded.”
Nancy turned, bumping into her friend. “Just a
mite,” she said with a laugh. “Is your fanny pack in all
this mess?”
George wrinkled her brow. “Somewhere.” She bent
to look under the bed, banging Nancy with her elbow.
“I think I'll wait in the hall,” Nancy said, and
stepped into the passageway.
A loud clunk made her jump. The sound had come
from the cargo area. Someone was down below, which
was strange, Nancy thought, since no one had passed
them.
“George, is there another way to get to the cargo
area?” Nancy called into the dressing room.
“Yes. Through a hatch in the bow. But we're not
supposed to use it because of the tour groups.”
“Hmm.” Nancy peered into the pit. She thought
about the falling rope. Was someone sneaking around
the ship?
“I'm going to look at the props,” she told George.
And see if there's an intruder, she added to herself as
she turned and backed down the ladder.
The cargo area was lighted by one dim lantern.
Nancy jumped to the wooden floor, then glanced
around. She guessed she was under the quarterdeck.
The outside walls of the ship curved like giant ribs. The
low ceiling was crossed with beams. Boxes, plastic trash
bags, and loose props were stacked randomly as if Eli
had moved them in a hurry.
Suddenly another crash made Nancy twirl. Eyes
wide, she stared behind her. There was an open
doorway that led into the belly of the ship. A shoe box
lay in front of the door, its contents of gold doubloons
spilled across the floor.
A flash of movement caught Nancy's eye as someone
jumped from behind several large boxes and
disappeared through the door. Nancy took off after the
person, running into a narrow passageway. Instantly,
she was enveloped in darkness. She stopped dead.
When her eyes adjusted, she saw a dim maze of
co
rridors and entryways winding under the waist of the
ship toward the bow.
Nancy knew there was no way she could follow the
person without some kind of light. She'd be lost in
second.
Turning, she went back to the cargo hold. The box
of spilled doubloons lay in the middle of the floor as If
someone had knocked them over in his or her haste to
get away.
A shiver tingled up Nancy's spine. Someone was
sneaking around the ship. But why, and what was the
person looking for?
3. Ransacked!
Stooping, Nancy picked up one of the gold doubloons
and studied it. At first glance, the coin looked real, but
on closer inspection, Nancy could see the hints of gray
pot metal underneath the gold overlay.
Nancy scooped the fake coins back into the box. She
didn't think someone would want to steal the obviously
fake coins. Perhaps an over-zealous tourist was hunting
for a souvenir, she thought.
“Nancy!” George called from above. “Are you
coming?”
Hurriedly, Nancy put the lid on the box and stood
up. Before she left for the hotel, she'd have to tell
Andrew that she suspected someone was snooping.
Tucking the box under her arm, she climbed the
ladder back to steerage. When George met her at the
top, Nancy told her what had happened.
“That's weird. Why would someone be sneaking
around the ship?”
“Maybe it's a tourist trying to get a souvenir from
the film,” Nancy guessed.
“Do you think a tourist would be bold enough to
snoop below-decks?” George asked.
“I don't know,” Nancy said. “It's puzzling. The
intruder had to know his or her way around the ship.
I'm going to stash the coins in the dressing room for
safekeeping,” she added. “Andrew might blow a fuse if
one more thing goes wrong. If you see Eli, tell him
that's where they are.”
Nancy went into the dressing room. It was so
crowded with costumes and the cast's and crew's
belongings that she had a hard time finding a spot
where the box wouldn't get knocked over. Finally, she
stashed it under the platform bed.
“Ready?” George asked. They climbed from
steerage and onto the quarterdeck, where they found
Andrew and Daniel sitting in plastic lawn chairs and
looking over the script. Most of the cast and crew had
left, and the tourists had disembarked. Other than the
squawk of the gulls and the slap of the rigging in the
The Clue of the Gold Doubloons Page 2