The Secret of the Wooden Lady

by Carolyn Keene

  “Chin up,” George said. “It didn’t happen. Let’s get some food for the boys. I’ll bet they’re starved after all that work.”

  “Dave’ll like the chocolate cake I brought,” said Bess, forgetting her scare. “Why, where is it?” She stared dumfounded at a built-in table in the galley. “The cake’s gone!”

  “Sure you didn’t eat it?” George teased.

  “Not even one piece!” Bess declared.

  It developed that not only the cake, but a loaf of bread, a pound of butter, some cooked ham, and two quarts of milk were missing. Both girls looked inquiringly at Nancy, who was deep in thought. Suddenly she said:

  “I think we have another stowaway on board!” Bess and George were astounded at Nancy’s statement. Finally George asked:

  “How did you figure that one out, Nancy?”

  “I think there was someone in the galley stealing food about the time the fire started in the hold. When he heard me call ‘Fire!’ he unlocked the closet door, Bess, so you wouldn’t be caught in a burning ship.”

  “What about the man who went overboard?” Bess asked.

  “I think when I caught him down below deck he had just come up from the hold,” Nancy continued. “He may have set the fire either on purpose or accidentally, and was escaping.”

  George voiced the opinion that the other stowaway must still be on the ship.

  “And I mean to find him!” Nancy said.

  “Not without me,” a voice behind her advised. It was Captain Easterly. “While George and Bess get supper, you and I will make a thorough search, Nancy.”

  They went about the hunt methodically, first in the cabins and crew’s quarters, then in the hold, and finally in the old sea chests and cupboards. There was no sign of a stowaway or of the food that had vanished.

  “Our thief must have been the fellow who jumped overboard,” the captain concluded.

  Nancy was not satisfied with this explanation. He certainly had no food with him when he dived in. Aloud she said:

  “I wonder if the fellow who jumped overboard got to shore safely.”

  “Likely he helped himself to a ride on the fireboat,” Captain Easterly suggested.

  “Of course!”

  Nancy berated herself for not having thought of this. The man might have been caught! Now it was too late, because the fireboat would have long since docked.

  Captain Easterly suddenly chuckled. “That snooper thought he was going to find out where we’re heading. But we fooled him. Now we can sail and enjoy ourselves. No more worries.”

  Nancy wished she could agree with him—espe—cially since they had outridden the fog bank, and the cool evening with its freshening breeze was ideal for the voyage.

  “But we must be watchful,” Nancy determined. The boys took turns eating supper. While Ned was off watch, Nancy asked him to do a little further exploring with her.

  The young detective had decided to take one more look in the hold where the fire had been. The person who caused the fire might have left a clue.

  Descending the narrow wooden steps, she walked carefully through the dark space, swinging her flashlight here and there. The heavy smell of smoke and wet timber still hung in the air. Reaching the spot where the fire had been, Nancy leaned over to examine the charred timbers.

  “Ned, see what’s here!” she called excitedly. Near the burned area was a deep, newly cut hole in the wall. It had not been there when she and Captain Easterly were searching half an hour before!

  CHAPTER X

  An Unusual Box

  About three feet from the charred flooring, beneath the newly made hole, lay a hatchet. Nancy and Ned had the same thought. They had surprised someone at work! The stowaway had felt safe to search while the ship’s passengers were busy elsewhere.

  “Where can he be?” Ned asked, looking behind the piles of boxes and crates.

  Nancy examined every inch of the old walls, which were full of markings of a bygone day. She hoped that among them might appear the outline of a secret door. She found none. Ned was no more successful.

  “Your guess about two stowaways was right, Nancy,” he said as he gave up the search. “And one of them is still aboard.”

  It was maddening—and ridiculous—that he and Nancy could not catch him, Ned added. The stowaway seemed to be able to come and go as easily as a ghost.

  “We must tell Captain Easterly at once,” Nancy said.

  They went directly to his cabin, but he was not there. Nancy, seeing a small object on the floor near the captain’s desk, bent over and picked it up.

  “An old snuffbox,” she said. “Isn’t it pretty?” On the lid was a cameo—the face of a lovely woman. She had long curling hair and a serene expression.

  “Ned, this may be just what I’ve been looking for!” Nancy exclaimed suddenly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “This woman on the box is probably the copy of a figurehead on a ship. She may be the one from the Bonny Scot!”

  Ned smiled. “Aren’t you jumping to conclusions?”

  Nancy dashed up to the quarterdeck where Captain Easterly was scanning the overcast sky.

  “Where did you get this snuffbox?” she asked him excitedly, holding it under a light.

  The captain looked at the article on the girl’s outstretched hand. “I never saw it before,” he answered.

  “Ned, this may be what I’ve been looking for!”

  “Then the stowaway dropped it,” Nancy told him, and brought the skipper up to date on the finding of the hole and the hatchet, proving that some mysterious intruder was still aboard.

  Captain Easterly frowned. “But where in thunder can he be?”

  Nancy’s eyes lighted up. “I think I know how we might catch him.”

  “How?”

  “He’s raided the galley once, and I have a hunch he’ll come back for drinking water. Ned, let’s set a watch for him!”

  Ned’s eyes sparkled. “You really keep trying—that’s what I like about you, Nancy.”

  Captain Easterly smiled tolerantly. “You’re such a good sleuth, Nancy, I might as well say Yes to your scheme. Ned and Dave can watch.”

  He glanced at the sky and frowned. “We may be in for a squall. I’m going to shorten sail.”

  The captain put the boys to work. Nancy joined the girls. She told them the plan to surprise the stowaway in the ship’s galley that night. One of the boys would wait inside the galley door. The other boy would rest in a small cabin directly across the passageway.

  “And now I have something to show you,” Nancy said.

  She held out the snuffbox. “I think our stowaway must have dropped this. Perhaps he found it during one of his hatchet parties.”

  “Or he may have brought it aboard with him,” suggested George.

  Studying the box more closely, Nancy discovered the initials P. R. and the date 1850.

  “I’m sure we’ve hit upon a clue,” she remarked to the girls. “Captain Easterly said this clipper might have been built about that time. And Dad thought the original name might have been changed to Bonny Scot.”

  “You mean P. R. might be this clipper’s initials?” Bess asked.

  “Maybe. Let’s see what we can find in the captain’s book.”

  They went to his cabin and found the book which listed famous clipper ships. They read the names together: Rainbow, Flying Cloud, Sovereign of the Seas, Red Jacket, Lightning.

  “What romantic names they gave those old clippers,” Bess sighed. “But none of them has the initials P. R.”

  Nancy frowned thoughtfully. “As soon as I’m ashore again, I’m going to do some research.”

  George had taken off the lid and was smelling the inside of the box. “It’s a snuffbox if you say so. But it’s never had any snuff in it.”

  “Maybe there was something valuable inside—a note of some sort,” Bess suggested. She yawned. “I’m dreadfully sleepy, girls. Why don’t we go to our bunks? Stowaway or not, I’ve got to get
some sleep. I’ll lock my door.”

  George grinned. “After you’re sure no one’s under the bunk.”

  Through the night Ned and Dave took turns watching. By four o’clock no one had come near the galley. Nancy had dropped into an uneasy sleep when she was awakened by the sound of running feet and distant shouting.

  Nancy threw on a coat and dashed from her cabin. In the darkness she ran full tilt into someone.

  “Ned!” she gasped. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m okay,” he told her. “No stowaway, Nancy. I heard the captain calling. Let’s get up on deck and see what’s wrong.”

  As she ran up the companionway Nancy could feel the ship heaving and tossing. On deck they found the captain shouting orders to Dave, who was going aloft to struggle with a whipping sail on the mainmast. Burt was at the wheel.

  “Got to shorten more sail,” Captain Easterly bellowed. “Going to be a blow. We tried to run for it, but we’re caught. All we can do now is make things fast and ride her out. Nancy, you and Ned take the wheel and relieve Burt. I need him.”

  The wind increased. The waves rose and crashed over the deck. It was all the couple could do to hold the ship on the course the captain had set. The rain pelted down in the inky darkness.

  Clinging to the wheel, Nancy looked around her in fascinated horror. Waves broke over the forecastle head and raced along the deck. Above her the rigging hummed and jangled.

  Captain Easterly fought his way back to the drenched girl and grasped the wheel.

  “Get below, Nancy!” he bellowed.

  Grasping the rigging and the rail, Nancy finally reached the companionway and half slid, half fell to the passageway below.

  She found Bess and George in the captain’s cabin. Bess was lying on the bunk, hanging onto the side with both hands. George, who had gone to help but had been sent back, was sitting on top of the built-in desk, clutching the porthole frame.

  Furniture that was not bolted down was sliding from one end of the cabin to the other. Nancy fell into the bunk with Bess.

  “The storm’s bound to blow itself out pretty soon,” Nancy said, trying to be cheerful. “I wonder how the stowaway’s making out.”

  “It would serve him right if he got all banged up,” George said bitterly.

  Within a few minutes the deafening roar of the wind slackened suddenly. The noise of the crash ing waves was not so terrifying.

  Nancy decided to go back to the wheel. Maybe she could be helpful. What a different scene from the one a short time before! The storm was over. In the distance twinkling lights on shore mingled with streaks of gray in the early-morning sky.

  “We’re making for a cove,” Ned told her. Bess and George had come up on deck, and everyone watched as Captain Easterly dropped anchor in the deep water of the cove.

  Then the captain ordered a hearty breakfast for his weary workers. Nancy and George quickly set the long table in the galley, while Bess fried enormous quantities of bacon and eggs. After they had been consumed, the skipper suggested sleep for his guests. Exhausted, they obeyed, while he remained on watch.

  By ten o’clock Nancy and her friends were up and around again. Captain Easterly thanked them for their good sportsmanship.

  “You’re real mariners,” he said.

  “And the Bonny Scot’s a swell ship,” Dave spoke up. “I hope you get a clear title, so you can buy her, Captain Easterly. And I hope you invite us to take a sail with you.”

  “So do I,” said Burt.

  “Don’t forget me.” Ned laughed.

  The captain’s eyes twinkled. “Want me to ask the girls, too?”

  “Why not?” said Ned. “Every clipper needs cooks.”

  The girls grimaced, then Ned said, “I hate to change the subject, but we fellows will have to get to camp or lose our jobs, Captain. Will you and the girls be safe here in the cove if we leave?”

  Captain Easterly nodded. “Safe as a clam in a shell. We’ll even catch our stowaway, unless he’s swum to land already.”

  Since the dinghy carried only four passengers, it was decided that Nancy would go ashore with the boys and row the boat back.

  “Now you can get some sleep, Captain East erly,” Bess said kindly.

  Nancy was glad of the opportunity to notify her father that the ship was safe in the cove, and to do a little exploring in the nearby waterfront town. She had the unusual-looking snuffbox in her purse as she climbed into the boat.

  “Be careful,” Bess called after her, leaning anxiously over the side. “Grizzle Face or Flip Fay may be around!”

  “I’ll watch out,” Nancy promised.

  The boys caught a bus for Boston and Nancy was left alone on the main street of the little town. She found that telegrams could be sent from the grocery-hardware store.

  Nancy wired Mr. Drew at his sister’s apartment in New York City. Then she said to the proprietor, “Is there anyone in town who knows about the history of clipper ships?”

  “Clippers?” The man scratched his head and thought a moment. “Used to be a number of old-timers here who could have told you some tall tales, miss. I reckon the only fellow who takes an interest in such things now is Walt Frisbie.”

  “Where does he live?”

  “At the end of this street. He’s got a shop in an old barn where he carves out figureheads.”

  Nancy was excited. Figureheads! She thanked him, then hurried along Main Street until she came to a sign on a post:WALTER FRISBIE

  FIGUREHEADS

  “This is just too good to be true,” Nancy thought excitedly.

  She followed a sandy path to the open barn door, stepped inside, and found herself in a fascinating room. A few restored figureheads leaned against the walls, but most of Mr. Frisbie’s possessions were figures without heads, or heads without bodies.

  At a worktable, on which lay an enormous block of black wood, stood a tall, middle-aged man with bushy black eyebrows. Mr. Frisbie had a chisel in his hand, and he looked as if he would like to use it on Nancy for disturbing him.

  “I’m busy,” he said shortly. “What do you want?”

  Nancy smiled. “I’m very sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Frisbie, but I’ve been told you’re the only man around here who takes an interest in old clipper ships. I need your help.”

  His frosty face softened. “What are you up to, young lady?”

  Nancy took the snuffbox from her purse and held it out to him. “Have you ever seen a figurehead like this cameo?”

  Mr. Frisbie studied it with great interest. “Where did you get this?”

  “On a ship called the Bonny Scot.”

  Nancy told him briefly about the lost figurehead of the clipper and how eager Captain Easterly was to find out what it had looked like.

  Mr. Frisbie put down his chisel and examined the little box. He could not recall having seen that particular figurehead, he said, nor did he know of any clipper whose initials were P. R.

  “My father has been trying to get a clear title to the Bonny Scot,” Nancy explained, “but so far he hasn’t found any record of her at all. We wondered if the ship’s name might have been changed.”

  “Tell you what,” the woodcarver suggested. “I have quite a library of books on clippers and old sailing ships upstairs. Why don’t you browse around?”

  “Oh, may I? That would be wonderful!”

  Mr. Frisbie pointed out a narrow stairway leading to the loft of the barn.

  Nancy thanked him and climbed to the loft. She was delighted to find an unusual collection of rare volumes and drawings, and sat down on an old grain box to look through them. She began by comparing the cameo with the illustrations of figureheads.

  The sun climbed high. Nancy was lost in the fascinating tales of another day.

  Mr. Frisbie poked his head up into the loft. “Don’t you ever eat, girl?” he demanded.

  “I hadn’t thought about it,” Nancy confessed. “But I am hungry.” She took time to hurry into town for a sandwich and a glass
of milk, then returned to Mr. Frisbie’s studio.

  At half past five he came up and stood beside her. “Sorry,” he said, “but I lock up about this time. Glad to have you come back tomorrow, if you want to.”

  “I do want to, very much,” Nancy told him. “I haven’t found my figurehead.”

  “You stick to it like a bulldog, don’t you?” Mr. Frisbie laughed. “You’d make a good detective.”

  Nancy smiled, dropped the snuffbox into her purse, and hurried along the main street toward the waterfront, and the beach where she had left the dinghy.

  Suddenly hearing stealthy footsteps behind her, Nancy whirled.

  There stood Grizzle Face!

  He snatched her bag. Nancy clutched at it, but quick as a wink the man emptied its contents.

  He seized the snuffbox triumphantly.

  CHAPTER XI

  A Favorite Lady

  Nancy caught his arm and tried to take the little box from him. But Grizzle Face, muscular and wiry, shook her off easily and dashed away.

  “You can’t have that!” Nancy cried, running after him.

  “It’s mine!” he flung over his shoulder.

  She tried desperately to catch up to him. Her mind raced with only one thought: she had to question him.

  “I know you were a stowaway on the Bonny Scot!” Nancy called after him. “Please! I only want to question you.”

  But Grizzle Face kept on running. If only someone would come to help her capture him!

  “The police will get you!” she called, hoping to scare him.

  The word police worked like magic. Grizzle Face halted in his tracks. “Police?” he said. “I ain’t a thief.”

  “You can keep the snuffbox,” Nancy said, stopping. “Just answer a few questions for me.”

  “Don’t come any closer,” Grizzle Face ordered, “and maybe I’ll talk.” Nancy did not move. “Yeah, I was on the clipper. That satisfy you?”

  “Where were you during the storm?” Nancy asked. “We looked everywhere for a stowaway.”

  The sailor seemed gratified. “I know that ship better’n old Easterly does. There’s places.”

  “What sort of places?” Nancy insisted.