When Frank told the pilot their destination, Jack assured him there were several aviation radio facilities in the vicinity that would permit them to pinpoint the islet from the air.
Early the following day the Hardys, Chet, and Jack were winging their way toward the mystery spot. Soon they paralleled the Atlantic coast.
“How long do you estimate it’ll take us to reach the place?” Frank asked Jack.
The pilot checked the bearings indicated by the radio compass and omni-navigation receiver, then thumbed his small computer. “I’d say about thirty minutes from our present position.”
The boys gazed below. Ocean waves broke against the craggy coastline, tracing it with a ribbon of white foam that stretched as far as the eye could see.
As they passed over a small sailboat, Joe took out binoculars and scanned the area below. “Little islands ahead,” he announced, and soon the others made out small sprinkles of land dot-ting the surface of the water.
“According to the cross bearings I calculated,” Jack announced, “we should be over the place you want within one minute.”
“And what exactly are we looking for?” Chet queried.
“I don’t know,” Frank answered. “But if—”
“Hey!” Joe interrupted. “I see a lighthouse on that islet just below us.”
Frank took the binoculars. “You’re right. It appears to be abandoned, but there are several cylindrical-shaped objects just to the left of the lighthouse.”
Jack took the plane to a lower altitude and Frank readjusted the glasses. “They look like drums of oil, or gasoline,” he said.
“But for what?” Joe questioned. “A boat? Certainly couldn’t be for an airplane.”
The pilot asked for the binoculars and studied the islet. “The surface is level enough for a plane,” he observed, “but it’s much too short to be used as a runway—that is, except for a helicopter, or perhaps a helioplane!”
Frank and Joe glanced at each other. Could there be a connection between the islet and the helioplane in which Timken had eluded them?
Frank suggested they fly back to the coast and land at the nearest airport. “I want to find out about the islet,” he said.
Jack found a small field not far inland and set the plane down. The Hardys hopped out and hastened to the operations shack. There they met a solid, middle-aged man with a shock of gray hair, who introduced himself as Ty Carter, the owner of the airport.
“I don’t know much about that islet with the abandoned lighthouse,” Carter told them, “except that it is private property. It was sold at auction recently.”
“Have you any idea who bought it?” Joe asked.
“Fellow named Bodkins. He’s not from around here so I can’t tell you anything about him.”
“Bodkins?” Frank thought. A possibility struck him. “Could this be an alias of Hexton’s?” Aloud he questioned, “Have you ever seen a helioplane in the vicinity of the islet?”
“Funny you should mention that,” Carter replied. “During the past couple of weeks I saw one headed in that direction several times. But whether it was going to the islet or not, I wouldn’t know.”
The boys thanked the man for his cooperation, then returned to the plane.
“Fellows,” Frank said suddenly, “I have an idea. Why don’t we rent a boat and look at the place?”
“What if Hexton and his men are on the islet?” Chet asked.
“That’s a chance we’ll have to take.”
After lunch Jack remained with the plane, while Chet and the Hardys hiked to the nearby coastal town. They found a boat-rental place, but unfortunately all the power craft were in use. Frank finally selected a small jib-headed racer.
He manned the helm while Joe and Chet hauled the sails to the top of the mast. A strong breeze carried them quickly away from the dock. Nearly three hours passed before the islet appeared off the port bow of their craft.
“Seems deserted,” Joe said.
Frank manipulated the helm to direct the boat in a wide circle around the tiny point of land. From the other side of the islet a fast powerboat appeared.
When it drew closer, Joe exclaimed, “That’s Stony Bleeker at the wheel! And Vordo’s with him. They must have spotted us!”
“The boat’s going to ram ours!” Chet shouted as the craft headed directly for the sailboat.
Frank applied hard helm and changed course quickly. The powerboat missed the stern by a few inches and threw a heavy spray of water over the boys. Its wake rocked the sailboat violently.
“Hold fast!” Frank cried out. “Stay in the center, fellows, or we’ll capsize!”
“Look!” Joe yelled. “They’ve turned and they’re coming at us again!”
As the powerboat sped perilously close, more water foamed over the gunwales.
“We can’t stay upright much longer!” Joe shouted.
The next pass by the powerboat was so close that the two craft sideswiped. The boys hung on, but plunged into the sea an instant later as the sailboat went over on its side.
Vordo burst into wild laughter. Stony was so preoccupied watching the boys come to the surface he failed to notice that he was steering directly toward the islet.
“Watch out!” Vordo bellowed at him.
Bleeker made a desperate, last-minute effort to turn away. Too late!
Crash!
The powerboat’s momentum carried it onto the craggy shore, and a sharp rock ripped through its hull.
The men leaped out. Furious, they shook their fists. “We’ll get you for this!” Vordo thundered at the three boys, who now lay across the half-overturned hull of the sailboat.
“Now what?” Chet asked.
Frank and Joe were glumly silent. They knew that trying to right their boat with its water-soaked sails would be next to impossible and the only haven within swimming distance was the islet!
CHAPTER IX
The Lighthouse Prison
IN a split second Frank had made up his mind. “Quick!” he shouted. “Help me haul in the main-sail! It’s our best bet.”
Joe unfastened the lanyard while the other two with great effort pulled the top of the partially submerged sail down the mast. When they had it tightly lashed around the boom, the boys secured the working jib.
“Jumping catfish!” Chet yelled in alarm. “We’re drifting closer to the islet!”
While he and Joe watched the movements of Vordo and Bleeker, Frank swam to the other side of the boat. He put his weight against the bottom of the keel and tried to force it downward into the water.
“Push up hard on the mast!” he shouted to Joe and Chet.
The power of their combined efforts started to rotate the sailboat.
“Harder!” Frank yelled. “Push up harder!”
Suddenly the boat rolled to an upright position. Frank reached for a hand bail-out pump clamped against the inside of the hull. Working frantically, he pumped the water out of the boat. Then he flung himself over the gunwales, followed by Joe and Chet.
“They’re taking off!” Vordo bellowed to Bleeker. “After ’em!”
The two men plunged into the water and swam toward the three boys.
“Up with the sails!” Frank commanded. “I’ll take the helm.”
Joe and Chet hoisted the sails into place. A strong breeze caught them and began pushing the boat ahead. Frank turned the craft sharply away from the islet.
Vordo screamed at them furiously, “Stop!”
“He seems to be the excitable type,” Chet said, weak with relief, as they went speeding back toward the mainland.
“We certainly didn’t win that battle,” Joe observed wryly. “We’re retreating.”
Frank nodded. “We’ll have to find another way to get here, and fast,” he declared. “If Dad’s a prisoner in the lighthouse, they’ll probably move him out as quickly as they can.”
The boat had covered nearly half the distance to the mainland when the sails became almost limp.
“The wind is dying down,” Joe said, alarmed. “We’re barely moving.”
Gradually the breeze subsided to a complete calm. The sailboat ceased to move ahead and rocked gently with the waves. Frank grabbed a paddle that was clamped under the gunwale. “Guess we’ll have to get back the hard way.”
“It’ll take us all night at this rate!” Chet exclaimed. “There can’t be much more than another hour or so of daylight.”
“We have no choice,” Frank said. “Let’s take turns paddling.”
Chet’s prediction proved to be right. It was well into the night before they could see the vague outline of docks strung along the coast.
Presently they heard the put-put of an outboard motor and a bright beam of light swept the surface of water ahead. As the boat drew closer, they recognized the pilot as the man who had rented them the sailboat.
“Hey!” he shouted. “You said you wanted the boat for the day, not for the night!”
“Right.” Frank grinned. “We were becalmed. How about giving us a tow to your dock?”
The man threw them a line and went on, “I’ve been searching for you guys since dark. In an hour I was going to notify the Coast Guard.”
“I’m sorry,” Frank said.
When they reached land, the boatman saw that the youths were totally exhausted. “I have extra bunks in my shack,” he said. “It’ll be daylight in another couple of hours. Why don’t you lads eat a bite, then get some sleep?” The boys accepted his offer gratefully.
Before turning in, Frank called the airport and asked to speak to Jack.
“I was worried about you fellows,” the pilot said with deep concern. “I’ve been waiting here in the operations shack, wondering what happened. I almost notified the police.”
Frank told him of the day’s adventure, then suggested that they meet in the morning for breakfast.
It was five o’clock when Frank was awakened by the sound of a motor. He climbed from his bunk and peered out the window. What he saw caused him to snap wide awake. Vordo and Bleeker in their powerboat! “They must have made temporary repairs,” he thought.
Frank awakened his companions. “Wh-what’s the matter?” Chet mumbled, rubbing his eyes.
“Look!” Frank said, pointing to the boat. It was just docking at a pier where a sign read: CLARK’S BOAT REPAIRS.
“That’s it!” Joe declared. “They’re having the hull fixed.” An idea flashed through his mind. “Now would be a good time to return to the islet!”
“Don’t tell me we’re going to paddle ourselves all the way,” Chet complained.
“We’ll rent a motorboat,” Frank said. He made arrangements for the craft, then telephoned the airport and explained his plan to Jack. “Vordo and Stony Bleeker just arrived with their damaged powerboat. It’s docked at Clark’s Boat Repair place. Could you rent a car, drive down here, and keep an eye on those two? If they should start back to the islet before we return, fly out and warn us by making a low pass. If they start to leave town, notify the authorities.”
“Wilco!” the pilot replied. “I’ll get going right away.”
When the boys went to the dock, the owner said, “Fellows, I’ve just learned by radio there’s some bad weather in store—a nor’easter.” He pointed toward a darkening ridge of clouds far off on the horizon. “You can see it stirring up already.”
“But this is important!” Frank insisted.
The boatman pondered for a moment. “Well, if you promise to keep a sharp eye to the weather and to pull into land if it starts blowing too much, I guess you can have a boat.”
The boys thanked him and after a quick breakfast started out to the islet. The trip took less than half the time it had required in the sailboat. Nevertheless, when the lighthouse came into view, the sky had grown dark and the howling wind had developed into gale force.
“A hurricane!” Chet cried out.
Torrential rain burst upon the boys and the boat was tossed around like a cork in the heavy seas. But Frank skillfully kept it headed for the islet and finally maneuvered close to shore.
Joe tied the mooring line around his waist and leaped into the water. He swam hard to the craggy shore and soon had the boat on solid ground.
“Whew!” Chet groaned. “It’s going to take me a month to dry out.”
The boys peered through the sweeping sheets of rain at the lighthouse. Frank signaled his companions to be silent as they crept toward a lighted window near the base of the structure. Peering inside, they saw a man seated at a table.
“Burly Wilkes!” Joe whispered.
“He’s alone,” Frank observed. “That’s a break for us.”
“But what about Dad?” Joe asked.
“If they’re holding him prisoner here,” Frank said, “he’s in another room.”
“Let me take a look,” Chet suggested, and stretched higher for a glimpse inside. He slipped on a rock and banged his head against the glass. Burly Wilkes whirled around.
“Hide!” Frank ordered.
As Wilkes stomped to the window, the boys flattened themselves against the wall. Apparently satisfied nothing was wrong, he returned to his chair.
‘A hurricane!” Chet cried out
“That was close,” Joe commented.
“Sorry,” Chet mumbled sheepishly. “Now what?”
Frank whispered a plan. “We’ll break in and take Wilkes by surprise. When I give the signal, hit the door with all you’ve got.”
The boys positioned themselves. Frank raised his hand slowly, then dropped it. The three threw themselves against the door and it burst open. Wilkes jumped up from his chair, too startled to utter a cry.
“Stay where you are!” Frank commanded.
But Wilkes, recognizing the Hardys, bolted for a staircase which spiraled up to the top of the lighthouse. The boys raced after him.
Reaching the top, Wilkes rushed through a doorway and started to swing the metal door closed behind him. But Joe managed to prevent it from slamming shut by jumping into the narrow opening.
“There he goes!” Chet shouted as he spotted Wilkes running out onto a catwalk encircling the top of the structure.
Finally the fugitive could go no farther. He was trapped and turned to face his pursuers. He threw a punch but missed. Frank countered with a blow to the stomach that sent the man sprawling. In a flash, Joe and Chet were on him and Wilkes was pinned helplessly to the metal grating of the catwalk.
“Let go of me!” he screeched.
Frank motioned the other two off, then dragged the man to his feet. “Hexton kidnapped our father, didn’t he?”
“Yes. But I had nothing to do with it!”
“Where are they keeping him?”
“He was here.”
“Was?”
“Well, he’s gone!”
“Where?”
“I don’t know. Mr. Hardy escaped more than five days ago. Those SKOOL men are pretty smart!”
CHAPTER X
Wing Signal
THE boys were dumfounded. “What do you mean our dad escaped?” Joe asked. “How?”
“I don’t know. I wasn’t here.”
Frank believed that Wilkes was telling the truth. But where could their father be? And why hadn’t he been in touch with them?
The Hardys tied Wilkes securely to a chair. Then Frank, Joe, and Chet settled down to wait out the storm.
While the wind and rain beat against the lighthouse, Frank and Joe questioned Wilkes further. Their prisoner said he did not know the whereabouts of Hexton, nor just what sort of an operation he was running.
“I’m a new man in the outfit. The magician hasn’t taken me into his confidence,” he added.
“So you’re just learning the UGLI business,” Frank remarked. Wilkes nodded.
He admitted that the metal drums which the Hardys had spotted contained airplane fuel, but now were empty. This was confirmed by Joe’s thorough search as soon as the rain subsided and the sun burst through the broken clouds.
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br /> “Okay, Wilkes,” Frank said tersely when his brother returned. “You told the truth about the drums. What about the helioplane?”
The man’s jaw dropped. “Wh-what’d you mean—helioplane?”
“You know all right!” Joe said. “So far, we’ve made things easy for you, Wilkes, but if you don’t tell the whole story, we’ll have you charged as an accomplice to a kidnapping!”
“No, no!” he whined, blanching a sickly white.
“I saw the plane land here twice. Both times it stayed a few minutes, then took off again.”
“Were there any passengers aboard?”
“Just one guy wearing some kind of uniform.” The man began to perspire freely. “Hexton will kill me if he finds out I told you.”
“Don’t worry about him,” Chet said. “The Hardys will take care of that crooked magician.”
Just then they heard an airplane and rushed outside. Looking up, they saw their own plane coming in from the west. It dived and made a low pass over the islet “The signal!” Frank exclaimed. “Vordo and Bleeker must be on their way back!”
“Let’s wait and nab ’em,” Joe suggested.
Frank was about to answer when Jack Wayne headed in toward the islet again. He made another low pass, but this time the boys saw a small object drop from the plane. It bounced along the rocky surface and rolled to a stop close by. It was a metal box with a message inside:Vordo and Bleeker on way back! Have two other men with them. Believe they are armed. Suggest you leave immediately. Head north before turning toward mainland to avoid their boat.
“Let’s get out of here fast!” Chet said.
“I don’t like the idea of running,” Frank said, “but the odds are against us. We’ll go back to the mainland and notify the police.”
Pushing the reluctant Wilkes before them, the boys hastened to their motorboat. Luckily it was undamaged by the storm. A quick check of the fuel, however, showed they could not take the northerly course Jack had suggested.
“We have just enough gas to make shore,” Frank announced.
“What about Vordo and his men?” Chet asked.
The Secret Agent on Flight 101 Page 5