Terror at High Tide

by Franklin W. Dixon

  “Sorry, boys,” the man said, “no tours today. The lighthouse is closed to the public. The only reason I’m here is to fix this lock.” He held up a screwdriver, then pointed to the lock in the door. “I had to go into town to get the right kind of screws.”

  “We need your help. It’s an emergency.” Briefly Frank told the guard the location of the shed and that George Geovanis had been kidnapped. The guard looked shocked, but he agreed to radio for a police unit.

  “This had better not be some kind of hoax,” he muttered as he took his two-way radio out of his pocket.

  Without wasting another second, Frank and Joe raced back across the golf course and hopped into the Jeep. As Frank jabbed the key into the ignition, he prayed that Cartwright hadn’t sabotaged the car. To his relief, the Jeep started right up. The Coast Guard guy must have come along at just the right time, he guessed.

  “Floor it, Frank,” Joe said. “We don’t have a second to lose.”

  Frank made a U-turn, then careened back up the road. Soon he and Joe were bouncing up the dirt road through the moors. At the edge of the cranberry bog, they began scanning the landscape. “There it is!” Joe cried, pointing at a ramshackle shed set back in a grove of trees.

  Frank slammed on the brakes, and he and Joe jumped out. At the shed Frank flung open the rotting door, then froze in horror. The shed was empty!

  14 At Sea with a Shark

  * * *

  Frank whipped around toward Joe. “We’re too late,” he gasped. “Cartwright must have taken Mr. Geovanis. We didn’t get here fast enough.”

  “Could we have been wrong about the shed?”

  Stooping down, Frank picked up a small piece of rope and a rag from a corner. “I don’t think so. Looks like he gagged him with this.”

  “I hope he hasn’t killed him,” Joe said.

  Frank blew out his breath. “You and me both.” He glanced up and down the road but saw nothing. “Cartwright knows the police are probably looking for Mr. Geovanis by now. My guess is he won’t risk being on the open road with his captive. Let’s head for Cartwright’s house.”

  “The police would have to get a warrant to search his house,” Joe said, “and that takes time. Cartwright would have Mr. Geovanis alone for a few more hours.”

  “Yup—and that’s all he’d need,” Frank said grimly. Frank tossed the rope and rag back on the floor, then the Hardys rushed to the Jeep. Once inside, they peeled up the dirt road toward Cartwright’s.

  Halfway down the driveway, Frank parked the Jeep next to some sumac trees. “We’ve got to keep a low profile—Cartwright won’t exactly be happy to see us.”

  “That’s for sure,” Joe said. The Hardys stepped out and moved stealthily toward the house, keeping close to the trees. Just as the woods gave over to a lawn, Joe pointed to the side of the driveway. The blue dune buggy was lying on its side, the front fender smashed. “Man, is that guy out of control, or what,” Joe said. “Well at least we know he’s around here somewhere.”

  “I just hope Mr. Geovanis is okay,” Frank said. When they drew closer to the house, the Hardys saw a moped propped up on its kickstand. Frank frowned. “I wonder who that belongs to?”

  Joe felt his stomach knot. “It looks an awful lot like Alicia’s. I hope she didn’t panic and decide to come here at the last minute.”

  A scream filled the air. The Hardys stiffened, every sense on alert. “It’s coming from the front of the house,” Frank said. “And it sounds like a girl. Come on.”

  Frank and Joe took off around the left side of the house, tearing up grass as they ran. The fog was still thick, but they could see the edge of the lawn, where it spilled down over a sandy bluff. Beyond that, the harbor was invisible under a blanket of gray.

  Another scream rang through the stillness. “It’s definitely Alicia,” Joe said. Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead.

  “Over the bluff!” Frank yelled, rushing to the edge of the lawn. A loud roar ripped through the air as Frank gazed down the hill. His mouth went dry. About ten feet off shore Cartwright was starting up a motorboat. Inside were George and Alicia Geovanis, tied up back to back.

  “No!” Joe shouted at Frank’s side. Alicia looked up as if she heard him, her eyes wide with terror. Then the boat disappeared into the fog.

  “Joe, look,” Frank said, pointing up the beach. Anchored to a dock about twenty feet away were two more speedboats. “One of those babies has our name on it.”

  In seconds Frank started up one of the speedboats while Joe unhitched it from the dock. A moment later they headed into the fog.

  “This is even worse than the moors,” Joe said from the prow. “At least we had a road to follow then. How will we ever find them?” He stared ahead, trying to make out the horizon, but the sea disappeared into a gray cottony void.

  “We can follow in the wake of their boat,” Frank said.

  Looking down, Joe saw the long V-shaped trail left by Cartwright’s propeller in the water. “Good thinking, Frank. We’ll just pretend it’s a road.”

  Frank revved the engine, and the boat sped along, bouncing through the waves. Soon Joe heard the roar of another boat ahead. “Cartwright,” Frank said. He opened up the engine full throttle. “I can’t catch him—he’s going too fast. But at least I can keep up.”

  They zoomed along for what seemed like hours, when Joe noticed a light stabbing the sky to his left. “Is that the Sankaty Lighthouse?” he asked. “It’s in the wrong place.”

  “It must be the Nantucket Lighthouse,” Frank told him. “I’ll bet we’re going through the neck of the harbor, out into the Atlantic.”

  “Where’s Cartwright going?” Joe muttered. “To Europe?” He glanced to either side. As the beam of light swooped through the mist, he could make out yachts and speedboats bobbing at their moorings. “Cartwright’s the only bozo crazy enough to take a boat out in this weather.”

  “Or desperate enough,” Frank added.

  Past the lighthouse the water became choppier, and Joe felt his stomach lurch. Several minutes passed while the Hardys stared grimly into the curtain of fog ahead of them.

  Suddenly the boat pitched. There was a loud crunching noise. “We’ve run aground!” Frank said, frantically trying to steer the boat off the shoals.

  Joe leaned over the prow. He could see a brown oval shape under the surface of the water next to the boat. He was relieved not to see any holes in the hull. “It looks like we’ve hit a rock, Frank. I don’t see any damage, but then I can’t see the whole hull.”

  “Hope you’re right, but just in case, let’s put on these.” Pulling out two life vests from under the stern, Frank tossed one to Joe.

  Joe put on his vest, then sat impatiently in the prow. How would they ever save Alicia and her father now? he wondered. Even if they could get their boat out of the shoals, Cartwright’s wake had already blended into the choppy ocean surface.

  The sea was ominously quiet. Joe leaned over, pulling off his sneakers. He couldn’t stand doing nothing for one more second. “I’m going into the water to try to push us off the rocks,” he announced.

  “Good,” Frank said, looking at a rivulet of water streaming into the boat. “We’ve got a leak here after all.” He picked up an empty coffee can from under his seat. “I’ll bail, and you try to guide us off.”

  A low rumble broke the silence, growing louder by the moment. “It’s a speedboat,” Frank said. “We can signal for help.”

  The Hardys watched as a boat appeared out of the mist. Leaning over the side of their boat, Frank and Joe waved and shouted. As the boat grew closer, Joe grabbed Frank’s arm, a shot of fear running through him. “It’s Cartwright!” Joe exclaimed.

  “Yeah, and he’s alone,” Frank said grimly.

  Joe sat down. He felt as if he’d been mowed down by a truck. “That means he must have thrown them overboard.”

  Cartwright slowed his boat as he drew near the Hardys. “What happened here, boys? Get stuck on a rock? Amateurs lik
e you shouldn’t venture out in this fog.” He laughed—an evil ringing sound. “I could come aboard and kill you right now, but I see you’ve sprung a leak. So I’ll leave the dirty work to the sharks. I just saw one offshore.”

  “You creep!” Joe sputtered. “What have you done with Mr. Geovanis and Alicia?”

  “I put them where you’ll never reach them—my favorite picnic rock at low tide.” As Joe punched the air in frustration, Cartwright added, “Of course, at high tide it’s a bit wet for picnicking, as George and Alicia will soon find out.” With one final chuckle Cartwright zoomed off into the fog.

  Joe gazed down at the water. The brown oval shape under the surface had disappeared. Joe frowned. “The tide’s coming in, Frank. Alicia and her father will be shark bait.”

  Frank looked thoughtful. “This might be our only hope. If the tide’s coming in, we might be able to get off the rocks. Let’s go back to Plan A.” Picking up the coffee tin again, he began to bail.

  In seconds Joe was in the water, trying his best to push the boat off the rocks. The boat made a slight grinding sound as Joe dislodged it. “We’re off!” he announced, climbing back in. “Now how do we find them?”

  “I’ll follow Cartwright’s wake in the opposite direction from where he just went,” Frank explained as he started up the boat. “It’s fading, but I can still make it out.”

  Joe bailed while Frank steered. After several minutes Frank stopped the boat. “What’s wrong?” Joe asked.

  “I can’t see the wake anymore.”

  Joe scanned the ocean surface, but it was no use. The wake was gone.

  A bloodcurdling scream pierced the air, and a man’s voice groaned, “No.”

  “It’s Alicia and her dad,” Frank said. “It sounds like they’re in trouble.”

  “If we can get them to keep yelling, we’ll be able to track them by sound,” Joe suggested. But before Joe could call out to them, he heard another piercing scream. “Angle right to three o’clock,” he urged. “They’re not far.”

  Moments later Mr. Geovanis and Alicia hovered into sight, chest-deep in water, back to back. Their hands were under water—tied up, Joe guessed. The Hardys called out to them, but the prisoners’ eyes were locked on something else. Joe froze as he followed their gaze.

  Twenty feet away a sharp gray fin cut through the water. “Frank!” Joe shouted. “We don’t have much time. It’s a shark!”

  15 Story of a Shipwreck

  * * *

  Joe’s words rang out through the fog, and Mr. Geovanis and Alicia immediately turned toward the Hardys. “Frank, Joe,” Alicia called.

  “We’re coming,” Joe said.

  “Be careful of the shoals!” Mr. Geovanis shouted. “They’re all around.” Looking down, Frank saw rocks under the surface of the water. He slowed down, trying to navigate the boat closer to Alicia and her father, but in a moment he heard the hull of the boat scrape a rock.

  “Can’t do it,” he said, shaking his head. He glanced over at the fin weaving through the water, closing in on the prisoners. His face paled. “Joe, let’s swim over. If we can cut their ropes free, maybe they could swim back to the boat. They’re only about twenty feet away.”

  The Hardys stripped down to their shorts. “Hurry, guys!” Alicia cried. “The shark’s getting closer.” As she spoke, the fin glided through the water ten feet away.

  Frank and Joe lowered themselves into the ocean. “Let’s hope old Jaws there isn’t hungry,” Joe said, grinning nervously at Frank.

  “I heard somewhere that if a shark attacks, you should punch it in the nose,” Frank said.

  “Let’s just hope we don’t have to test that theory,” Joe said.

  The Hardys took strong crawl strokes toward Alicia and her father. Halfway there, Frank raised his face from the water to scout out the fin. He froze in midstroke. The fin was close on his right, making a beeline for him. “Joe!” he yelled. “Look out—it’s coming right for us!”

  At the last second the fin veered away, but not before Frank caught sight of the creature’s snub nose. “It’s a dolphin,” he cried, flooded with relief. “I can’t believe we mistook it for a shark.”

  “Hurry, guys!” Alicia yelled. “The tide’s up to my shoulders, and I can’t last much longer with my hands and feet tied.” A swell of water drowned out her words as she gulped down seawater.

  Once again the Hardys focused on the rescue mission. The choppy water lapped at Mr. Geovanis’s chest, and he looked tired and pale. Another minute and he wouldn’t have the strength to stay afloat. Frank and Joe reached them in a few quick strokes and started to untie their ropes.

  “I don’t think I can swim to the boat,” Mr. Geovanis said weakly. His body sagged, and his face went under water for a moment. “Can you help me?” he choked, spitting out seawater.

  Placing himself behind Mr. Geovanis, Frank cupped his hand under the older man’s chin and pulled him through the water to the boat, while Joe and Alicia swam after them.

  Once they were all safely in the boat, Joe went back to bailing while Frank started up the engine. “Don’t you think we ought to stay here until the fog lifts?” Alicia said. “We won’t know how to get back.”

  “The boat’s leaking and the tide’s coming in,” Frank explained, “so I think we have to try to get back. The sky looks lighter over there—that’s probably the lighthouse.” Frank started the engine and moved off slowly, following the glow in the sky.

  After several minutes Joe said, “I can’t control this leak anymore. No matter how fast I bail, the water pours in even faster.”

  “You’re right,” Frank said anxiously, watching the hull fill up with water. Joe searched for more life jackets, but there were only the two.

  Alicia shouted, “Look, guys!” She pointed to the left. “Over there.” Half hidden by the fog, a small speedboat rocked on the water about twenty feet away.

  “Cartwright,” Joe said. “But why is the boat empty?”

  “I’ll swim over and check it out,” Frank said. “If it’s still seaworthy, we can stay in it until the fog clears.”

  Geovanis moved toward Frank. “I’ll take over the rudder from you,” Mr. Geovanis said with a smile. “That much I can do. If you give me the thumbs-up sign, I’ll bring the boat over. But promise me—be careful.”

  Frank promised, then plunged into the water. Doing the side stroke, he approached Cartwright’s boat as silently as possible. Once there, he stood on a shallow rock and looked over the side of the boat. Other than a flashlight and a rope, the boat was empty. There were no signs of either Cartwright or a leak.

  Lowering himself back into the water, Frank moved toward the prow. The boat must have run aground, he thought, peering under the hull, but where was Cartwright?

  Frank felt something tug at his legs. What in the world? he wondered. That instant, he was yanked down, cracking his knees on an underwater rock. Flailing his arms, he tried to grab on to a rock, with no luck. Whatever was gripping his knees was pulling him under the water. The saltwater stung his eyes when he opened them.

  He raised his head, trying to see what was going on. A man wearing an oxygen mask, flippers, and a diving mask was dragging him down to a crevice in the rocks. Frank recognized the man’s gray hair, and adrenaline surged through his body.

  Frank’s lungs were bursting for air—they felt as if they were on fire. If he didn’t do something immediately, he’d drown. Turning his body around, he clawed at Cartwright, but he was out of reach.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Frank caught sight of Joe’s wet blond head looming up in the water behind Cartwright. Joe grabbed Cartwright’s oxygen tank and mask, pulling them off in one stroke. Then he punched Cartwright in the side of the head. Caught by surprise, Cartwright loosened his grip on Frank’s legs. Frank shot to the surface, landing a kick to Cartwright’s face.

  Frank gulped deep breaths of air. As soon as his dizziness passed, he went back under to help Joe. But to his surprise, Cartwright was n
owhere to be seen, and Joe was coming up for air.

  “He got away,” Joe sputtered, once the Hardys were both above water. Breathing hard, Joe went on, “He swam away from me, behind some rock, and when I followed him, he wasn’t there. Then I had to come up for air.”

  Frank glanced around. Alicia and her father were bailing out the boat. Otherwise, the sea was ominously quiet. Had Cartwright escaped? Or was he stalking them in the fog? Frank had the uneasy feeling that Cartwright hadn’t given up.

  A dark form rose from the water. “Joe, watch your back!” Frank yelled. As he spoke, Cartwright raised his oxygen tank over Joe’s head. Joe whipped around, shielding himself from the blow with his hands, while Frank punched Cartwright in the jaw. Cartwright flew back, then sagged into the water, disappearing under the surface.

  “Quick, let’s get in his boat,” Joe said. “He might try to pull us under again.” Frank and Joe clambered into the boat. “Where is he?” Joe asked, after several seconds had passed.

  Frank heard a faint splash and a gurgling sound. In a muffled voice, Cartwright cried out for help. “Sounds like he’s drowning,” Frank said. “Somewhere out in the fog.”

  “It’s coming from over there. Let’s find him.”

  Frank grabbed the flashlight in the hull of the boat and turned it on, pointing it into the fog toward Cartwright’s voice. “I can’t see him,” Frank said. “But I’ll leave the flashlight on the prow so we can find our way back.”

  “Wait!” Alicia yelled from her boat. It tipped dangerously to the side. “We’re just about to go under. We’ve got to get over to Cartwright.”

  “You find Cartwright, Frank, while I help these guys,” Joe said, lowering himself off the side of the boat.

  Frank followed Joe into the water, then moved toward Cartwright’s voice. About five feet off the shoals, he spotted him in deeper water, panic-stricken. “Help me!” he gasped.

  “You don’t deserve this,” Frank growled, swimming up behind Cartwright and cupping his chin with his hand in a livesaving grip. “But maybe you’d rather drown than admit who you really are to the world.” Cartwright looked at Frank, his eyes glittering with hate, but he was too weak to respond.