“Why, you infant, you couldn’t throw a grenade!” she jeered. “You don’t know how. Besides, you haven’t the nerve!”
“Get back!” Penny ordered again. “I warn you.”
Mrs. Deline laughed scornfully and came on.
Even the thought of throwing a hand grenade terrified Penny. She knew that she could not deliberately harm Mrs. Deline or even the men who were mercilessly beating her father and Jerry. Yet she had to do something.
“Maybe I can destroy the rubber boat!” she thought. “It’s far enough away so that no one should be hurt by the explosion.”
Whirling away from Mrs. Deline, Penny faced the sea. Fixing her eyes on her target, the rubber boat at the water’s edge, she hurled the grenade.
“Idiot!” cried Mrs. Deline, flinging herself flat on the sand to protect her face from flying fragments.
Penny did likewise. The grenade dropped with a thud on the sand beside the rubber boat. Her aim had been perfect. But there was no explosion. Belatedly, Penny realized that she had forgotten to pull the safety pin.
Mrs. Deline kept her face buried beneath her arms and did not yet know what had happened. Sick with the knowledge that she had failed, Penny was desperate. Her father and Jerry were being cruelly beaten by their opponents. In another minute they would be overpowered and the Germans would escape to the waiting submarine.
“I can’t let them get away!” Penny whispered. “I must do something!”
Remembering the pencil bombs, she groped in the cardboard box for them. They were not there. Instead, her fingers closed upon the sharp bladed knife.
“I’ll slash the rubber boat!” she thought. “I’ll try to make a hole in it!”
Before Mrs. Deline realized what the girl was about, Penny darted down the beach. The men from the submarine did not see her. Reaching the rubber boat, she leaped into it. Working with desperate haste, she jabbed the knife through the bottom. The material was tough and it took all of her strength to make a long jagged gash. Water seeped in, slowly at first, then faster.
“I’ve done it!” Penny thought jubilantly. “I’ve done it!”
Her triumph was fleeting. The next instant the girl was struck a hard stunning blow from behind. As she collapsed in a limp little heap on the sand, she dimly saw the cruel, angry face of Mrs. Deline. Then all went black and she knew no more.
CHAPTER 25
A SCOOP FOR UNCLE SAM
Penny opened her eyes and wondered where she was. For a moment she could remember nothing of what had transpired. Gradually, she realized that she was lying down, her head pillowed in someone’s lap. She seemed to be in a fast-moving motor boat for she could hear the wash of waves against the craft. In panic she decided that she must be a prisoner enroute to the German submarine. She struggled to sit up.
“Easy there, partner,” said a soothing voice.
Penny twisted sideways to look at the speaker. “Jerry!” she whispered.
“You’re all right,” he said, pressing her gently back. “We’ll get you to a doctor in a few minutes.”
“A doctor, my eye!” Penny protested with spirit.
“That was a nasty blow Mrs. Deline gave you on the head,” contributed another voice.
Penny turned again and saw her father. His shirt was half torn off and there was a long gash on his cheek.
“Dad, you’re hurt!”
“Nothing but a few scratches, Penny. Jerry took worse punishment than I did. But you should see the other fellows!”
“What happened?” Penny asked. “Where am I anyhow?”
“In a patrol boat bound for the hotel.”
“But what happened on the beach? The last I remember was when I tried to slash the rubber boat.”
“You not only tried, you did!” chuckled Jerry. “Mrs. Deline struck you on the head with something—maybe a rock—and you went down for the count. About that time, some of the Army boys arrived. Mrs. Deline and her crowd tried to make a get-away, but the boat couldn’t be launched.”
“Then what happened?” Penny demanded as Jerry paused for breath.
“The two members of the sub crew tried to swim. They were picked up by a patrol boat that had been drawn to the locality by the gun fire.”
“And Mrs. Deline?”
“She and her pal Emory, together with the escaped flier, struck off across the sand dunes.”
“They didn’t get away?”
“Not on your life. They reached the road and there found a nice reception awaiting them! Right now the three are lodged at Headquarters.”
Penny took a deep breath. Her head was throbbing but she scarcely felt the pain.
“What about Jim McCoy at the lighthouse?” she inquired.
“He was taken into custody earlier in the evening. A portable broadcasting outfit was found on the premises.”
“Then Mr. McCoy really was the man responsible for those mysterious broadcasts—the Voice from the Cave?”
“No doubt he had helpers,” Mr. Parker contributed. “We expect to track down most of the ring now that the leaders have been captured. At any rate, we’ve put an end to the broadcasts. Your other theory was right too, Penny.”
“What theory, Dad?”
“That the cave effect was produced by an echo chamber.”
“Then no broadcast ever originated in a cave?”
“Probably not. We know McCoy shifted locations frequently. Tonight was the first time he ever dared broadcast from the lighthouse.”
“And what of the old beachcomber, Jake Skagway?”
“Just a beachcomber,” Jerry answered. “He had no connection with Emory or Mrs. Deline.”
Penny lay perfectly still for a few minutes, gazing up at the dark sky. A few stars pricked the black canopy above her, and now and then a quarter moon peeped from behind a cloud screen.
“How did I get aboard this boat?” she presently inquired.
“Another patrol boat came by,” Jerry explained. “In fact, after all the fireworks, just about everyone in Sunset Beach arrived on the scene. We wanted to get you to a doctor so we took the first transportation that offered.”
“Almost there now too,” added Mr. Parker.
Penny sat up. The shore was dark but she could dimly see the dark Crystal Inn hotel.
“I don’t need a doctor,” she laughed. “I’m feeling better every minute. My, won’t Louise be green with envy when she learns what she missed!”
“I’d say she was lucky,” Mr. Parker corrected. “Penny, you don’t seem to realize what a narrow escape we all had.”
“That’s right,” added Jerry, “those men were desperate, and they’d have stopped at nothing. I guess we owe our lives to you, Penny.”
Penny loved the praise. Nevertheless, she replied with a show of modesty:
“Oh, I didn’t do a thing, Jerry. As a matter of record, I nearly messed up the show. When I threw that hand grenade I forgot to pull the safety pin.”
“I’m glad you did,” chuckled Jerry. “If it had exploded, we might not be here now.”
Penny sat very still, thinking over what had happened. Events were a bit hazy in her mind and many questions remained unanswered.
“The submarine?” she asked after a moment.
“Sunk,” Jerry replied. “One of our patrol planes scored a direct hit.”
“I guess that brings me up to date,” Penny sighed,“There’s only one thing that bothers me.”
“What’s that?” inquired her father.
“Did you know who Mrs. Deline was when you invited her to come with us to Sunset Beach?”
“No, but I had a healthy suspicion that she might be working against our country, Penny. I first met Mrs. Deline at the Club. However, she was rather transparent in making a play for my attention. In checking up I discovered that she never had been in China and never had written a newspaper story in her life. When she practically invited herself to ride with us to Sunset Beach, I thought I’d try to find out more about her little g
ame.”
“I acted so silly about everything,” Penny acknowledged, deeply ashamed. “I’m sorry, Dad.”
“You needn’t be, Penny. At times you were rude to Mrs. Deline which was wrong. But your actions served a good purpose by keeping the woman so diverted that she never was on her guard.”
Shore was very close. As the powerful engines of the motor boat became muted, Penny said wistfully:
“Now that your work is done here, Jerry, I suppose you’ll be winging off to some far corner of the country.”
“Not for a few days at least,” he reassured her. “I’m expecting a furlough and I’ll spend it right here at Sunset Beach. We’ll cram those days full of fun, Penny. We’ll swim and golf and dance. We’ll make every minute count.”
The boat grated gently against the dock and a sailor leaped out to make the craft fast. Mr. Parker and Jerry helped Penny ashore. Though she tried to stand steady upon her feet, the boards rocked beneath her.
“Hook on,” invited Jerry, offering an arm.
Mr. Parker supported her on the other side, and thus they walked slowly toward the hotel.
“The Three Musketeers!” chuckled the editor. “‘One for all, and all for one.’”
“We do make a trio,” agreed Penny. “Tonight it seems just as it did when we were together in Riverview working on a big news story. There’s one difference though.”
“What’s that?” asked Jerry.
“Tonight we were actors in a little drama that should be page one on any newspaper. Yet neither of you news hawks so much as spoke of trying to get a scoop for the Riverview Star.”
“Good reason,” rumbled Mr. Parker. “The story of what happened tonight may never be published.”
“I understand, Dad. If the news were printed now it might give valuable information to the enemy.”
Penny paused to catch her breath. With Jerry and her father still supporting her, she turned to face the restless sea. The patrol boat had slipped away into the darkness. Far up shore, unmindful that her faithless master had gone, the bright beacon from the lighthouse swept the water at regular intervals. Nothing seemed changed.
“Curtain going down on one of the best adventures of my life,” Penny said softly. “Who cares that the Riverview Star missed the story? Why, this was an A-1 scoop for Uncle Sam!”
GUILT OF THE BRASS THIEVES
CHAPTER 1
ADRIFT
“This is the limit! The very limit!” Giving his leather suitcase an impatient kick, Anthony Parker began to pace up and down the creaking old dock.
His daughter Penny, who stood in the shadow of a shed out of the hot afternoon sun, grinned at him with good humor and understanding.
“Oh, take it easy, Dad,” she advised. “After all, this is a vacation and we have two weeks before us. Isn’t the river beautiful?”
“What’s beautiful about it?” her father growled.
However, he turned to gaze at a zigzag group of sailboats tacking gracefully along the far rippled shore. Not a quarter of a mile away, a ferryboat churned the blue water to whip cream foam as it steamed upstream.
“Are you certain this is the dock where we were to meet Mr. Gandiss?” Penny asked after a moment. “It seems queer he would fail us, for it’s nearly five o’clock now. We’ve waited almost an hour.”
Ceasing the restless pacing, Mr. Parker, publisher of the Riverview Star, a daily newspaper, searched his pockets and found a crumpled letter.
Reviewing it at a glance, he said: “Four o’clock was the hour Mr. Gandiss promised to meet us at dock fourteen.”
“This is number fourteen,” Penny confirmed, pointing to the numbers plainly visible on the shed. “Obviously something happened to Mr. Gandiss. Perhaps he forgot.”
“A nice thing!” muttered the publisher. “Here he invites us to spend two weeks at his island home and then fails to meet us! Does he expect us to swim to the island?”
Penny, a slim, blue-eyed girl with shoulder length bob which the wind tossed about at will, wandered to the edge of the dock.
“That must be Shadow Island over there,” she observed, indicating a dot of green land which arched from the water like the curving back of a turtle. “It must be nearly a mile away.”
“The question is, how much longer are we to wait?”Mr. Parker glanced again at his watch. “It’s starting to cloud up, and may rain in another half hour. Why not taxi into town? What’s the name of this one-horse dump, anyhow?”
“Our tickets read ‘Tate’s Beach.’”
“Well, Tate’s Beach must do without us this summer,”Mr. Parker snapped, picking up his suitcase. “I’ve had my fill of this! We’ll spend the night in a hotel, then start for Riverview on the early morning train.”
“Do you know Mr. Gandiss well?” Penny inquired, stalling for time.
“He advertises in the Star, and we played golf together occasionally when he came to Riverview. I must have been crazy to accept an invitation to come here!”
“Oh, we’ll have a good time if only we can get to the island, Dad.”
“I can’t figure out exactly why Gandiss invited us,”Mr. Parker added thoughtfully. “He has something in mind besides entertainment, but what it is, I haven’t been able to guess.”
“How about hiring a boat?” Penny suggested.
Her father debated, then shook his head. “No, if Gandiss doesn’t think enough of his guests to meet them, then he can do without us. Come on, we’re leaving!”
Never noted for an even temper or patience, the publisher strode down the dock.
“Wait, Dad!” Penny called excitedly. “I think someone may be coming for us now!”
A mahogany motorboat with glittering brasswork, approached at high speed from the direction of Shadow Island. As Penny and her father hopefully watched, it swerved toward their dock, and the motor was throttled.
“That’s not Mr. Gandiss,” the publisher said, observing a sandy-haired, freckled youth at the steering wheel.
Nevertheless, suitcase in hand, he waited for the boat.
The craft came in smoothly, and the young man at the wheel leaped out and made fast to a dock post.
“You’re Anthony Parker!” he exclaimed, greeting Penny’s father, and bestowing an apologetic smile upon them both. “I’m Jack—Jack Gandiss.”
“Harvey Gandiss’ son?” Mr. Parker inquired, his annoyance melting.
“A chip off the old block,” the boy grinned. “Hope I haven’t kept you waiting long.”
“Well, we had just about given up,” Mr. Parker admitted truthfully.
“I’m sure sorry, sir. I promised my father I would meet you sharp at four. Fact is, I was out on the river with some friends, and didn’t realize how late it was. We were practicing for the trophy sailboat race.”
Penny’s blue eyes sparkled with interest. An excellent swimmer, she too enjoyed sailing and all water sports. However, she had never competed in a race.
“Suppose we get along to the island,” Mr. Parker interposed, glancing at the sky. “I don’t like the look of those clouds.”
“Oh, it won’t rain for hours,” Jack said carelessly. “Those clouds are moving slowly and we’ll reach the island within ten minutes.”
Helping Penny and Mr. Parker into the motorboat, he stowed the luggage under the seat and then cast off. In a sweeping circle, the craft sped past a canbuoy which marked a shoal, and out into the swift current.
Penny held tightly to her straw hat to keep it from being blown downstream. A stiff breeze churned the waves which spanked hard against the bow of the boat.
“My father was sorry he couldn’t meet you himself!”Jack hurled at them above the whistle of the wind. “He was held up at the airplane factory—labor trouble or something of the sort.”
Mr. Parker nodded, his good humor entirely restored. Settling comfortably in the leather seat, he focused his gaze on distant Shadow Island.
“Good fishing around here?” he inquired.
“T
he best ever. You’ll like it, sir.”
Jack was nearly seventeen, with light hair and steel blue eyes. His white trousers were none too well pressed and the sleeves of an old sweater bore smears of grease. Steering the boat with finger-tip control, he deliberately cut through the highest of the waves, treating his passengers to a series of jolts.
Some distance away, a ferryboat, the River Queen, glided smoothly along, its railings thronged with people. In the pilot house, a girl who might have been sixteen, stood at the wheel.
“Look, Dad!” Penny exclaimed. “A girl is handling that big boat!”
“Sally Barker,” Jack informed disparagingly. “She’s the daughter of Captain Barker who owns the River Queen. A brat if ever there was one!”
“She certainly has that ferryboat eating out of her hand,” Mr. Parker commented admiringly.
“Oh, she handles a boat well enough. Why shouldn’t she? The captain started teaching her about the river when she was only three years old. He taught her all she knows about sailboat racing, too.”
Jack’s tone of voice left no doubt that he considered Sally Barker completely beneath his notice. As the two boats drew fairly close together, the girl in the pilot house waved, but he pretended not to see.
“You said something about a sailboat race when we were at the dock,” Penny reminded him eagerly. “Is it an annual affair?”
Jack nodded, swerving to avoid a floating log. “Sally won the trophy last year. Before that I held it. This year I am planning on winning it back.”
“Oh, I see,” Penny commented dryly.
“That’s not why I dislike Sally,” Jack said to correct any misapprehension she might have gained. “It’s just—well, she’s so sure of herself—so blamed stubborn. And it’s an insult to Tate’s Beach the way she flaunts the trophy aboard that cheap old ferryboat!”
“How do you mean?” Mr. Parker inquired, his curiosity aroused.
Jack did not reply, for just then the engine coughed. The boat plowed on a few feet, and the motor cut off again.
“Now what?” Jack exclaimed, alarmed.
Even as he spoke, the engine died completely.
“Sounds to me as if we’re out of gas,” observed Mr. Parker. “How is your supply?”
The Penny Parker Megapack: 15 Complete Novels Page 134