Its dark timbers looked warm and inviting. Tall trees reached toward its three-gabled roof. Leaded panes sparkled in the golden rays of the afternoon sun. And behind a large bay window on the ground floor, Trixie could see the vague outlines of people seated around tables. The area was—it had to be—the mysterious dining room.
“Why, the inn is beautiful!” she exclaimed, opening the car door and jumping out.
“Simply perfect!” Di agreed behind her.
“Oh, Miss Trask,” Honey asked softly, “how could you ever bear to leave a place like this?”
Miss Trask came and stood beside them. “It’s not always possible to live where one wants to,” she answered quietly. “And sometimes there are other things—and other people—who are more important. Sometimes, you see, there’s not enough money in a family to take care of—of certain responsibilities. And when that happens, why, someone in that family has to go out and earn a living.”
Trixie guessed that Miss Trask was talking about her invalid sister, who needed such constant care and attention.
“Do you ever wish you didn’t have to work for my family at the Manor House?” Honey asked in a small voice. She sounded as if she dreaded hearing the answer.
At once, Miss Trask turned swiftly and gave her a quick hug. “Oh, my, no, Honey!” she said briskly. “I have never been one who wastes time thinking about what might have been. Besides, what on earth would I do without you and Jim to keep me on my toes?”
Satisfied with the answer, Honey smiled and turned to help unload the luggage. At the same moment, Trixie gasped.
The inn’s front doors had suddenly swung open, and a figure stood motionless on the top step.
That he was a pirate, there was no doubt at all. A three-cornered hat sat squarely on his head. His rosy-cheeked face wore a black, bushy beard.
From his brass-buttoned coat to his brown knee-length boots, he seemed to Trixie to have stepped straight out of the pages of a history book.
She wasn’t the only one to think so. Behind her, she heard Mart draw a deep breath. “Gleeps!” he sputtered finally. “He managed to get here from Jamaica, after all. He’s come to welcome us to Pirate’s Inn! It’s the ghost of Captain Trask!”
Ready for Action ● 4
FOR WHAT SEEMED to be an endless moment, the apparition and the Bob-Whites stood staring at each other. Then the figure moved, and the spell was broken. He hurried toward them with both hands outstretched.
“Well, well, me hearties!” he boomed. “So you managed to get here, eh? I didn’t recognize the wagon, you see, so I wasn’t sure if it was really you.” He turned to Miss Trask and gripped her hands. “Marge, it’s good to see you. It’s been a long time.”
The “ghost” was obviously none other than Miss Trask’s brother, Frank.
Now that he was close to them, and in spite of the beard, Trixie could see the family resemblance. He was only slightly taller than his sister. But as he doffed his three-cornered hat to all of them, Trixie could see that his head was the same shape as Miss Trask’s and that he had the same crisp iron-gray hair. His twinkling blue eyes even had the same laugh lines at their corners.
Miss Trask had been frowning at her brother in disapproval. “I almost didn’t recognize you in those outlandish clothes, Frank,” she said sharply. “And Mart, here, thought you were a ghost. Honey, Trixie, Di, Jim, Brian, Mart, Dan—-this is my brother.”
Mr. Trask didn’t seem to mind at all that his sister didn’t like his pirate costume, He chuckled. “So you thought I was a ghost, eh, Mart? Ah, me bucko, and that’s just what you were supposed to think. It gives the old place a bit of atmosphere, you see. And that’s what the tourists pay for.” Trixie chuckled. “I bet Mart was hoping you really were Captain Trask,” she said as Mart turned red with embarrassment.
“And if I had been, I’ll bet he’d have been planning to ask me how I disappeared,” Frank Trask said, grinning. “Now, that’s what I like! A boy with brains! But come on, now! Shake a leg! Your rooms are ready and waiting. No doubt you’ll be wanting' a wash and a brushup before the galley serves up your afternoon snacks. You’re to order what you want. It’s on the house.”
Mart’s face brightened at once. “Snacks?”
“In the dining room?” Trixie asked eagerly.
Mr. Trask turned to the station wagon and began to unload it rapidly. “Snacks in the dining room now,” he promised, “and dinner later. At eight o’clock, you’re all invited to dine at the captain’s table with Marge and me. Tonight we’re celebrating something special.”
At once, Jim looked worried. “If it’s a family celebration, sir, I really don’t think we ought to intrude.”
“Fiddlesticks!” Mr. Trask boomed, striding rapidly toward the inn and carrying most of the luggage. “Now, would I have invited you if I didn’t want you? The fact is, I’ve got a fine surprise to share. Yessirree! A fine surprise!”
Miss Trask stood for a moment staring after him. Then she sighed and said, “For once I agree with my brother. You wouldn’t have been invited here if you weren’t wanted. And I don’t want to have to repeat that every ten minutes this weekend.” She smiled for the first time since they had arrived. “Is that clear, me hearties?” Jim chuckled. “Aye-aye, ma’am.”
“But, all the same,” Honey remarked, “we didn’t realize you were celebrating something special tonight.”
Miss Trask frowned. “Neither did I!” she said.
Minutes later, Trixie and Honey stood enchanted in the doorway of their bedroom on the second floor. It was as if they were about to step into a ship’s cabin. From the paneled walls, lined with prints of long-ago sailing ships, to the neat bunk beds and blue sailcloth curtains at the windows, the effect was a delightful one.
When Trixie crossed the room and peeked outside, she saw that it overlooked the.inn’s front entrance. As she watched, red and yellow leaves from a tall maple tree drifted gently to the ground. Beyond, the setting sun turned the Hudson River to gold.
“Oh, how lovely,” Trixie said softly.
“Isn’t it perfect?” Honey asked, gently testing the bottom bunk.
Trixie sighed happily. “It really is.”
A small bathroom connected their room with Di’s. Soon the three girls were excitedly visiting back and forth.
“Have you seen the boys’ rooms?” Di asked. “I don’t know how they did it, but Brian and Mart seem to have been given the captain’s cabin. It has brass lamps and everything! Jim and Dan have a room like ours.”
“I wonder where Miss Trask’s room is,” Trixie said. “I know she came upstairs with us, but then I sort of lost track of her.”
“Her room’s at the end of this passage,” Honey answered. “I caught sight of it before I came in here. I don’t know if she wanted it that way, but it isn’t a bit like this.”
“What is it like?” Di asked.
Honey shrugged. “It’s just a regular old room. There’s no nautical theme in it or anything—just some big, dark furniture and a small single bed.“
“Maybe it’s the room she’s always had ever since she was a child,” Trixie said thoughtfully. “And did you notice what she said downstairs? ‘For once I agree with my brother,’ she told us. It almost sounds as if the two of them don’t always get along with each other.”
Di smiled. “You should be able to understand that, Trix. You don’t always get along with yours.” Trixie’s face went red. Of course, Di was right. All the same, Trixie wished she hadn’t mentioned it. There were times when she knew she fought too much with Mart. There were also times when she would have liked to keep family quarrels private. She knew it was often her own fault that they weren’t.
Honey had been watching Trixie’s face. “If we took fast showers,” she said quickly, trying to change the subject, “we could get out of our school clothes and climb into something more comfortable. Then we could go downstairs and get something to eat.”
“You’ve just said the magic word
s,” Trixie announced. throwing her a grateful glance. “I’m starved!”
Di walked back into her own room, but she left the connecting doors open. “The dining room is really neat, too,” she called. “Wait till you see it. I only took a quick peek, but it’s all done in dark wood. It has brass lamps on the tables, anchors on the walls, and thick red carpeting on the floor.”
“Even under the captain’s table?” Trixie asked, disappointed. She still had high hopes of finding a trapdoor under there.
“No,” said Di, laughing. “It’s the only spot in the whole room that doesn’t have it. And wait till you see the oil painting!”
“What oil painting?” Honey asked.
But Di wouldn’t tell her. “It’ll give you the creeps” was all she’d say.
When Trixie, dressed in clean jeans and blouse, reached the dining room at last, she saw immediately what Di meant. On the far wall, lit by a spotlight, was an enormous oil painting of a tall, fierce pirate chief standing guard over his treasure chest. He glared at Trixie, no matter where she moved to in the room.
“What do you think of that, eh?” a voice boomed in her ear.
Startled, Trixie turned and saw Mr. Trask, still in his pirate costume, standing beside her.
“Oh—uh—it’s very nice,” Trixie stammered.
“Nice! What’s nice about it?” Mr. Trask asked, laughing. “It’s supposed to scare the living be-jabbers out of you, me hearty. It’s also supposed to be Captain Trask. As you can see, he’s guarding the family treasure.” He smiled to himself. “In fact, Trixie, he’s guarding more than some people think.”
“Did he really look like that?” Trixie asked.
“Well, now, since you ask me,” Mr. Trask answered softly, “no, he didn’t. But don’t tell anyone. The old painting we had of the real captain was the same size as that one. But in real life, the old captain didn’t look nearly fierce enough. In fact, he looked like a real softy. So I had a new portrait painted to me own specifications, you see.” He sighed and shook his head sadly. “I know that Marge won’t like it, though. No, she won’t like it at all. She doesn’t go much for the changes I’ve made around here. But in my opinion, the new painting gives the place—“
“Atmosphere?” Trixie suggested, smiling. “Exactly!” Mr. Trask exclaimed. “But there! Enough of this jibber-jabber, girl. Go.and join your friends. The captain’s table is occupied right now, but you’ll sit at it tonight, I promise. This afternoon, though, I’ve assigned one of my best waiters to take your order, so go ahead and enjoy yourselves.”
He hurried away, and Trixie moved slowly to a long table in the big bay window. There the rest of the Bob-Whites were waiting for her. They smiled as they saw that her eyes were fixed on what was obviously the captain’s table. It was large and round and obviously very old. It stood in the exact center of the room. The glow from the room’s subdued lighting reflected softly in its polished surface.
Seated at it were three adults and four teen-aged boys. The boys appeared to be spending more time under the table than they did in their chairs. Trixie could see them busily tapping different areas of the bare, polished wood floor. She could tell they were looking for a trapdoor of some kind. She found herself hoping passionately that they wouldn’t find anything.
“All right, folks, what’ll it be?” a gloomy voice asked over her head.
Trixie looked up quickly and gasped. Standing by her side was one of the most villainous-looking men she had ever seen in her life. Dressed as a pirate, he was more frightening by far than the painting of Captain Trask.
He was tall and skinny. He wore a black patch over one eye and a red scarf around his head. A gray stubble of beard covered his chin.
Someone should tell him to smarten up, Trixie thought.
As if he could read her mind, he said wearily, “Dumb outfit, ain’t it?” He pointed with the end of his pencil to his red and white striped T-shirt. “But I gotta wear it. Rule of the house. I’m also supposed to tell you that I’m Weasel Willis, and I’m your waiter for this afternoon. Of course, the name’s not really Weasel, but that’s another dumb rule. We all gotta have nicknames. So what’ll it be?”
Honey frowned. “What do you suggest?”
“Since you ask me,” Weasel said, “I don’t suggest anything. You probably won’t like the food here, anyway. This afternoon, everyone seems to want the Cannonball Pie. At least, that’s what they’ve been ordering. But it’s probably no good.”
“If everyone’s been ordering it,” Di said firmly, “then I’m sure it’s excellent. Er—what is it?”
“It’s just a fancy name for a cherry tart,” Weasel answered. “It’s supposed to be a specialty of the house. At least, that’s what Cookie likes to believe.”
Mart stared, fascinated.“Cookie?”
“The chef,” Weasel said briefly, then stood with his pencil poised in resignation over his order pad. He seemed to know that he was about to receive seven orders for Cannonball Pie.
He was right.
When he had gone to fetch the food, Trixie leaned across the table and said, “If that’s supposed to be one of Mr. Trask’s best waiters, I wonder what his worst ones are like?”
“Maybe we ought to tell Mr. Trask what that waiter is really like,” Dan said.
“On the other hand,” Honey replied, “perhaps we should have taken Weasel’s advice and ordered something else.”
But a short while later, when seven plates had been hastily scraped clean, the verdict was unanimous. The tart, in spite of its peculiar name, was the most delicious they had ever tasted. The pastry melted in the mouth, the whipped cream topping was perfection, and the cherry filling itself surpassed any superlative that Mart could think of.
He summoned their waiter at once. “You shouldn’t tell people they won’t enjoy it,” he announced severely, pushing his almost clean empty plate away. “That delectable morsel really hit the spot, you know.”
But all Weasel said was, “Oh, well, maybe the chef had a good day for once. He doesn’t often. Sometimes he gets homesick, and when that happens, his cooking’s terrible.”
“Where’s he from?” Trixie asked.
“Someplace called the Cordon Bleu,” Weasel answered.
“But that’s a very famous cooking school in France!” Di exclaimed. “No wonder the food is so excellent.”
“You couldn’t prove it by me,” Weasel said sourly.
Brian watched as he joined the other pirate waiters on the far side of the room. “Reverse psychology,” he said suddenly. “He was using reverse psychology on all of us.” He grinned. “Effective, wasn’t it?”
“I don’t understand what you mean, Brian,” Di said.
Brian rubbed his nose thoughtfully. “Don’t you see? Sometimes when you tell someone to do something, they immediately do the opposite.“
“And I suppose it also works the other way around,” Dan said.
“Sure,” Brian answered. “For instance, Weasel definitely told us not to order the pie. But he also managed to sneak in the information that it was a specialty of the house and that everyone liked it and was ordering it. So what did we order?”
“Scrumptious Cannonball Whatnot!” Mart exclaimed. “Hey, you’re right! Weasel’s reverse psychology worked like a charm. I only wish I could duplicate his efforts.”
“It’s too bad you’re not that clever,” Trixie remarked without thinking.
To her surprise, Mart only sighed. “I know,” he said. “But in the meantime, what do you all say to a tour of the town? The fresh air will do us all good. Miss Trask says it’s only a few minutes away, and a walk will help Miss Sherlock Belden sharpen her wits. I know she wants to think about the color of a certain bear.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, smarty!” Trixie answered, immediately on the defensive. “I want to stay right here and solve the mystery of the pirate’s disappearance!”
Mart chuckled and rose to his feet. “See?” he said to the other grinn
ing Bob-Whites. “I’ve just shown you how to get rid of a sister in one easy lesson. Reverse psychology really works. It’s easy when you know how!”
“Trixie?” Honey asked in a low voice. “Would you like me to stay and help you?”
“Yes, I would,” Trixie replied loudly. “And that isn’t reverse psychology at all. It’s just the truth, which some people I know would never be able to recognize, anyway.”
She glared at her brother’s back as he sauntered away.
“Don’t be angry, Trixie,” Honey begged. “You know Mart’s only teasing.”
But Trixie wasn’t listening to Honey. She was busy watching the people at the captain’s table.
They were preparing to leave at last. The disappointed looks on their faces told anyone who cared to know that they hadn’t found anything.
Honey had noticed them, too. “Don’t worry, Trix,” she whispered. “They just couldn’t have been looking in the right place.”
“I know,” Trixie answered slowly, “But somehow I feel certain that we’ll do better. Come on, Honey. It’s time we went into action!”
A Narrow Escape • 5
AFTERWARD, TRIXIE was never quite sure what happened. She thought that she and Honey had moved immediately to claim the mysterious captain’s table. Before they reached it, however, they found that a young man with sandy-colored hair was already seated there.
“Oh, woe, Honey! We’re too late!” Trixie whispered in dismay. “I don’t know how that man managed to move so fast.”
She jumped when Mr. Trask’s voice said in her ear, “So he beat you to it, did he? Somehow I thought he would. That’s Mr. Marvin Appleton, one of our guests. He’s had his eye on that table all afternoon. I’ve been watching him. He’s been pretending he’s not at all interested in this vanishing pirate business. But mark my words! Before too long, he’ll be tapping around under there with the best of ’em. O’ course now, if you were to ask me, I’d say he’s not going to find the solution that easily. Plenty of people have tried— meself included. But nobody’s figured it out yet.” He shook his head. “No, girls, the answer’s not that simple.”
The Mystery of the Ghostly Galeon Page 3