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-The Project Gutenberg eBook, Troubled Waters, by Robert Leckie

-

-

-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most

-other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions 

-whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of

-the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at 

-www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have

-to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.

-

-

-

-

-Title: Troubled Waters

-       Sandy Steele Adventures #6

-

-

-Author: Robert Leckie

-

-

-

-Release Date: October 31, 2015  [eBook #50353]

-

-Language: English

-

-Character set encoding: UTF-8

-

-

-***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TROUBLED WATERS***

-

-

-E-text prepared by Stephen Hutcheson, Dave Morgan, and the Online

-Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)

-

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-Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this

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-      See 50353-h.htm or 50353-h.zip:

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-

-

-Transcriber’s note:

-

-      Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).

-

-

-

-

-

-Sandy Steele Adventures

-

-TROUBLED WATERS

-

-

-      *      *      *      *      *      *

-

-SANDY STEELE ADVENTURES

-

-Black Treasure

-Danger at Mormon Crossing

-Stormy Voyage

-Fire at Red Lake

-Secret Mission to Alaska

-Troubled Waters

-

-      *      *      *      *      *      *

-

-

-Sandy Steele Adventures

-

-TROUBLED WATERS

-

-by

-

-ROGER BARLOW

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

-Simon and Schuster

-New York, 1959

-

-All Rights Reserved

-Including the Right of Reproduction

-in Whole or in Part in Any Form

-Copyright © 1959 by Simon and Schuster, Inc.

-Published by Simon and Schuster, Inc.

-Rockefeller Center, 630 Fifth Avenue

-New York 20, N. Y.

-

-First Printing

-

-Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 59-13882

-Manufactured in the United States of America

-by H. Wolff Book Mfg. Co., Inc., New York

-

-

-

-

-CONTENTS

-

-  CHAPTER                                                           PAGE

-  1 An Unusual Gift                                                    9

-  2 Make Ready to Sail!                                               20

-  3 Shakedown Cruise                                                  33

-  4 The Man with the Gun                                              51

-  5 Storm Fears                                                       67

-  6 Something Lost—Something Found!                                   75

-  7 A Million Dollars’ Worth of Trouble                               82

-  8 Double Blackout                                                   87

-  9 To the Freighter                                                  97

-  10 Aboard the Floating Prison                                      108

-  11 Escape to Danger                                                120

-  12 The Race Begins                                                 136

-  13 A Race of Mistaken Identity                                     146

-  14 Slow-Motion Chase                                               153

-  15 Turn and Turn Again                                             160

-  16 The End of the Race                                             169

-  17 Another Discovery                                               177

-  18 Homeward Bound                                                  183

-

-                   [Illustration: CLIFFPORT CALIFORNIA]

-

-                          [Illustration: SLOOP]

-

-  (1) _Mainsail_

-  (2) _Jib_

-  (3) _Mast_

-  (4) _Boom_

-  (5) _Shrouds_ (_standing rigging_)

-  (6) _Headstay_ (    ”    ”    )

-  (7) _Backstay_ (    ”    ”    )

-  (8) _Rudder_

-  (9) _Tiller_

-  (10) _Mainsheet_

-  (11) _Hawk_

-  (12) _Halyards_

-

-

-

-

-                              CHAPTER ONE

-                            An Unusual Gift

-

-

-Sandy Steele slowly put down the phone and pushed his blond cowlick back

-from his brow. Excitement and confusion were mixed in equal parts in his

-expression as he turned to his father, John Steele, who stood leaning

-against his workbench, idly tossing a piece of quartz crystal in the

-air.

-

-“Wow!” Sandy said. “Leave it to Uncle Russ to come up with a real

-surprise!”

-

-“It certainly seems to be a habit of his,” John Steele smiled. “What do

-you think of this particular surprise?”

-

-“I hardly know what to think,” Sandy answered. “The question is, what do

-you and Mother think? I mean, is it all right if I go—if I can find

-somebody to go with me?”

-

-“Your mother and I discussed this with your Uncle Russ before he called

-you,” Sandy’s father said, “so I guess that’s one worry you don’t have

-to consider. The only problem you have is finding somebody who knows how

-to handle a boat, and who’ll be interested in making this trip with

-you.”

-

-Wrinkling his forehead in thought, Sandy swung his gangling six-foot

-frame up on to the workbench next to his father. “How about you, Dad?”

-he asked. “Do you know anything about sailing a boat?”

-

-His father shook his head. “Sailing is hardly a skill that a government

-field geologist needs to develop. My work is with rocks and minerals—the

-dryest kind of dry land. What I know about water, you could carve on

-granite and put in your watch pocket!”

-

-“Geology didn’t make you into an inventor, a chemist, an electrical

-engineer, a carpenter and gosh knows what else,” Sandy answered, waving

-around him at the crowded workshop with its confusing mass of equipment.

-“I just thought you might have done some reading on this subject, too.”

-

-John Steele smiled. “As the proud but confused owner of a new sailboat,

-one of the first things you’ll learn is that there’s a world of

-difference between theory and practice. I’ve been out on a boat a few

-times; years ago, though. I’ve also read some books on the subject, as

-you thought. But all I know is that I don’t know anything.” He put down

-the quartz crystal and moved away from the workbench. “No,” he said, “if

-you’re going to be able to accept your Uncle Russ’s offer of a sailboat

-as a gift, and if you’re going to sail it on a three-day trip down from

-Cliffport, you’ll have to find someone with practical knowledge to help

-you do it.”

-

-Sandy frowned in concentration. “Finding a sailor in Valley View is

-going to be like finding a ski instructor in the Sahara Desert!” he

-said. “Why, this town is almost one hundred miles inland from the

-ocean!”

-

-“That’s true,” John Steele said; “but it seems to me that I once heard

-you and one of your friends talking about sailing. If I’m not mistaken,

-it was Jerry James, and it sounded to me at the time as if he knew what

-he was talking about.”

-

-“Of course!” Sandy said, slapping his forehead in exasperation. “I don’t

-know why I didn’t think of it! Jerry was a Sea Scout in Oceanhead before

-his family moved to Valley View. It’s just that he’s become so much a

-part of this town that I forget he didn’t grow up here with the rest of

-us. I think he was a Sea Scout for about three years, and he had been

-sailing before he ever joined up. I’m sure he can do it!”

-

-“Well,” his father said, “you’d better hunt him up fast and find out

-whether he can and will. Your uncle expects us to call him back within a

-couple of hours to give him an answer, because he’s leaving the country

-in two days and he wants to get this settled before he goes.”

-

-He had hardly finished his sentence before Sandy was out of the

-workshop, on his bike, and tearing down the tree-shaded street. He was

-sure that Jerry would be able to do it! He remembered their conversation

-well, now that his father had reminded him of it, and he recalled that

-Jerry had said that he practically grew up on boats, and that they were

-the only thing that he missed since moving to Valley View. In the close

-friendship that had grown up between them in the last couple of years,

-Sandy could not think of one time that Jerry had promised something that

-he did not deliver. If he said he could do something, he could do it!

-Sandy smiled, remembering Jerry’s early days in Valley View, his modest

-admission that he “could play a little baseball,” and his first day on

-the diamond. Jerry had immediately shown himself to be the best high

-school catcher in the county. With Sandy as pitcher, they had developed

-into an almost unbeatable battery.

-

-As he pedaled toward the drugstore owned by Jerry’s father, Sandy hoped

-that they would be able to carry their teamwork on in this new venture.

-He could still hardly believe his Uncle Russ’s offer of a sailboat,

-provided he could find someone to teach him how to sail. Like most boys,

-he had read and enjoyed sea stories, although many of the words used

-were strange and meaningless to him. In his reading, he had often

-pictured himself at sea, steering a tall ship through white-capped seas.

-A confused series of sailing words went through his mind: bow, stern,

-helm, topgallant sails, mizzen, poop deck, quarter-deck, galley, batten

-the hatches, go aloft....

-

-He was suddenly brought back to land as he narrowly missed running his

-bike into Pepper March, who refused to hurry for a mere bike. Putting

-the sea dreams firmly out of his mind, he continued more carefully until

-he pulled up in front of James’s Drugstore, where he put his bike in the

-rack under the green-and-white striped awning and hurried into the cool,

-vanilla-smelling store.

-

-Jerry was behind the counter, making up a pineapple ice-cream soda for

-Quiz Taylor who, with two empty glasses in front of him, was impatiently

-waiting for the third.

-

-Sandy climbed onto the stool next to the stubby Quiz and impatiently

-waited until Jerry was through making the soda. When the concoction was

-safely delivered into Quiz’s eager hands, Sandy said, “Jerry, I’ve got

-some real exciting news! In fact, it’s so exciting that I didn’t want to

-tell you while you still had that soda in your hands. I was afraid you’d

-toss the whole thing into the air!”

-

-Having firmly secured both his friends’ attention, Sandy told them about

-the phone call from his Uncle Russ, the offer of the boat, the need for

-instruction and the whole story. When he had finished, Jerry’s

-lantern-jawed face was lit up with a 500-watt grin.

-

-“It sounds as if this is going to be the best vacation of my life!” he

-said. “A boat! I can hardly wait to get going!”

-

-Sandy sighed with relief. “Then you’re sure you can handle it?” he

-asked.

-

-“That’s a good question,” Jerry said, running a hand over his

-close-cropped inky hair. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know because

-you haven’t told me yet what kind of a boat it is. There are plenty that

-I wouldn’t even say I could act as a decent crew member on. Do you know

-what kind it is?”

-

-“Why ... why ... it’s a sailboat!” Sandy said. “I mean, that’s all I

-know about it. Does it make much difference?”

-

-Jerry laughed. “There are almost as many different kinds of boats as

-there are people,” he said. “Nobody but a real Master Mariner would just

-answer that he could sail anything. It’s like being an airplane pilot.

-If you got your pilot’s license flying a Piper Cub, you wouldn’t be

-exactly ready to fly a four-engine jet bomber!”

-

-“Still,” Quiz interrupted thoughtfully, “the principle remains the same

-in both. It’s simply a question of creating a high-speed airstream, so

-directed as to pass over and under an aerodynamically shaped surface

-which, because of the varying degree of arc and the cambered sections

-and angle of attack, produces a lift, drag and momentum proportional to

-the density of the air, the square of the speed and the area of the wing

-or airfoil. It’s simple! What’s more, a sailboat works the same way.”

-Looking pleased with himself, Quiz happily returned his attention to the

-pineapple soda.

-

-“Why, Quiz!” Sandy said. “I didn’t know you could fly!”

-

-“Fly!” Quiz looked up from his soda with a grimace. “The very thought of

-flying makes me sick. If I don’t hold on to the banister, I get dizzy

-when I go up to bed at night!”

-

-All three boys laughed, for this side of Quiz’s personality was a

-standing joke with them. Quiz, formally known as Clyde Benson Taylor,

-was a virtual encyclopedia of obscure information. While he could tell

-you vast amounts about nearly every human activity, the very idea of

-taking part in an activity usually upset him.

-

-“So much for theory,” Jerry said. “Now, to get back to the practical

-realities of sailing a boat—I’d have to know a few things about the kind

-of sailboat you have before I’d be willing to give an answer. There are

-all kinds of boats, of all different sizes. There are sloops, cats,

-cutters, yawls, ketches, schooners and a hundred variations. Did your

-Uncle Russ give you any idea of what he has for you?”

-

-“I think he said it was a sloop,” Sandy said. “And he did say that while

-it was large enough to sleep on and take out on a cruise, it was a

-pretty small boat. He said that anyone who knew how to sail would know

-how to handle it.”

-

-“That sounds right to me,” Jerry said. “I didn’t think that he’d want to

-start you off with a complicated rig or a big boat. If it’s the kind of

-thing I think it is, I’m sure I can sail it, and teach you too.”

-

-“Will I have to learn all about yardarms and fore-topgallant sails and

-things like that?” Sandy asked, somewhat doubtfully.

-

-“Not for quite a while,” Jerry laughed. “You’ve been reading too many

-books about pirates and whalers in the old days. You only find all those

-complicated sail and rigging names on the big square-rigged ships—the

-ones with three and four masts. If your boat is a sloop, it only has one

-mast, one mainsail, and a choice of maybe three other sails, flown one

-at a time with the mainsail. There’s nothing much to learn compared with

-the old full-rigged ships with up to four masts.”

-

-“Five,” Quiz said.

-

-“I never heard of one with more than four,” Jerry commented.

-

-As if he were reading from a book buried deep in his pineapple soda,

-Quiz mumbled around the straws, “The steel ship _Preussen_ was the only

-five-mast full-rigged ship ever built. It was 408 feet long, had masts

-223 feet high, yardarms over 100 feet long and 47 sails totaling 50,000

-square feet.”

-

-Even though Sandy was used to this sort of thing from Quiz, he was more

-impressed than usual. “How would you like to come with us, Quiz?” he

-asked.

-

-“Who, me?” Quiz looked shocked. “I don’t know the first thing about

-boats! No, thanks—I’ll stay safe ashore!”

-

-The next half hour was spent in excitedly discussing the trip to come,

-the possibilities of sailing, the things Sandy would have to learn, and

-the equipment that he and Jerry would have to take along. Finally Sandy

-remembered that his Uncle Russ was expecting a phone call, and that

-Jerry still had to get his parents’ permission to make the trip. They

-agreed to go back to Sandy’s house and let John Steele make the call to

-Jerry’s father so that the adults could satisfy themselves about the

-wisdom of letting the boys take a three-day cruise for Sandy’s first

-trip.

-

-Leaving Quiz in charge of the drugstore’s soda fountain, they quickly

-hiked to the Steele home, where Sandy’s father agreed to make the call.

-

-Getting Jerry’s parents’ consent to the trip proved not to be a

-difficult task. Mr. and Mrs. James obviously had a good deal of

-confidence in Jerry’s ability to handle a sailboat, and both sets of

-parents felt that their level-headed sixteen-year-olds could take such a

-trip on their own. In short order, all of the details were worked out,

-and Sandy was once more on the long-distance phone to speak with his

-Uncle Russ in San Francisco.

-

-“It’s okay!” he shouted, as soon as his uncle answered the telephone.

-“Jerry James, my best friend, used to be a Sea Scout and knows all about

-boats. His parents say he’s a good sailor. We’re ready to start any time

-you want!”

-

-He listened for a minute to his uncle, then said, “Swell! We’ll be

-ready. And thanks a million for the boat!” Hanging up the phone, he

-turned to his father, mother and Jerry with a wide grin.

-

-“Uncle Russ sure doesn’t waste any time,” he said. “He’s leaving now and

-expects to be down here tonight. He says that we’d better get all packed

-and ready, because he wants to take us up to Cliffport tomorrow morning,

-and we’ll have to leave here by six o’clock!”

-

-

-

-

-                              CHAPTER TWO

-                          Make Ready to Sail!

-

-

-“There’s one good thing about riding in this little sports car,” Sandy

-said, and laughed as he eased his cramped six-foot length out of his

-Uncle Russ’s low-slung red racer. “It’s going to make the sailboat seem

-as roomy as a yacht in comparison!”

-

-Sandy pushed his cowlick out of his eyes and stretched as his uncle and

-his friend Jerry followed him out of the little car.

-

-“Don’t worry about the size of the boat,” Jerry said. “I’ll guarantee

-that it’s going to seem pretty big and complicated, no matter how small

-it actually is, until you’ve learned how to sail it. In fact, you’re

-going to find that a boat is a whole new world, full of all kinds of new

-things to get used to. And from what your uncle told us about this one,

-it’ll be more than big enough to keep us both busy for a couple of

-summers to come.”

-

-“I feel as if we’re in a whole new world already,” Sandy replied, “and

-we’re not even on board yet!” He looked about him at the beehive of

-activity that was the Cliffport Boat Yard. “I’ve never seen anything

-like this before!”

-

-From all sides came the sounds of hammering and sawing, and the thin

-whine of electric sanders. The brisk, salty smell of the sea was mingled

-with the sharp odors of paint, varnish and turpentine and the peculiar,

-half-sweet smell of marine engine fuel.

-

-Boats of every size and description were ranged about them. Towering

-high above them, resting in specially built cradles, were long hulls

-with deep, weighted keels like giant fins under them. Heavy frames and

-timbers held these boats upright, and ladders leaned against them to

-where their decks joined their sides, high overhead. Men scrambled up

-and down the ladders with tools and equipment, or sat on the scaffolds

-and frames, painting.

-

-Smaller craft without keels were braced in cradles or frames on the

-ground, or lay bottoms up on racks made of heavy beams that looked like

-railroad ties. Some of the boats were having their bottoms scraped, some

-were being sanded, others were in the process of painting.

-

-At one nearby boat, Sandy saw men hammering on the bottom of the hull

-with big wooden mallets. Jerry explained that these were calking

-hammers, and that they were used to drive oakum into the seams between

-the planks to make the boats watertight for sailing. When the boats were

-put in the water later on, he added, the planks would swell and form

-waterproof joints where the planks met.

-

-On both sides, lines of railroad tracks led from the boat yard and the

-big sheds straight down to the water’s edge and on into the water. Boats

-on wheeled flatcars stood on the rails here and there, ready to be eased

-down the tracks into the water for launching. Jerry explained how, when

-the flatcars with their cradles had gone down the slope and were under

-water, the boats simply floated away from them. Then the launching

-device would be hauled back up the tracks for use on another boat.

-

-Sandy looked about him in bewilderment at the variety of boats in the

-yard. There were small boats with one mast, larger ones with two, cabin

-cruisers with no masts at all, and one sleek, beautiful, black-hulled

-boat with three tall masts. He was just beginning to think that he had

-found some relationship between the size of the boat and the number of

-masts when he spotted what appeared to be one of the largest hulls in

-the boat yard, with one immense mast. Next to it was a far smaller boat

-with two. Sandy thought to himself that there didn’t appear to be any

-simple rules to the business of boat designing. All in all the bustling

-Cliffport Boat Yard was a thoroughly confusing sight for Sandy, and a

-pretty exciting one, too.

-

-As a matter of fact, the entire last two days had been pretty confusing

-and exciting, Sandy reflected. Just two days ago, he had started on his

-spring vacation from Valley View High School with not a thing to do but

-loaf around home. Now, suddenly, he was the owner of a sailboat he had

-never seen, and he was preparing to take a two-hundred-mile cruise down

-the coast! A two-hundred-mile cruise—and he had never even been on board

-a sailboat!

-

-Looking at the maze of masts and rigging around him, Sandy sensed for

-the first time some of the complications of handling a boat. Laying a

-hand on his friend’s shoulder, he said, “Boy, Jerry, I sure hope you can

-sail this boat alone! If what I see around me is a sample, I’m afraid

-I’m going to be too confused to do more than just watch you and maybe

-ask a few simple-minded questions!”

-

-“Don’t worry about it,” Jerry said with a grin. “It’s not anywhere near

-as complicated as it looks at first sight. I learned to handle a boat

-fairly well in just a few summers at the shore, plus some instruction in

-the Sea Scouts, and I didn’t even have my own boat so that I could sail

-regularly. One season of working your own boat will probably turn you

-into a first-rate skipper!”

-

-Then Jerry frowned for a minute and ran his hand over his hair.

-“Speaking of being a skipper,” he began awkwardly, “you realize, I

-guess, that I’ll have to act as skipper of this boat at first? I mean, I

-know it’s your boat and all, but....”

-

-Sandy laughed. “You go right ahead and take charge! I’ll be more than

-happy to take orders from you. After all, somebody on board has to be in

-charge, and it’s a good idea to have it be someone who knows what he’s

-in charge of!”

-

-“Fine,” Jerry said, looking relieved. “If you just keep up that kind of

-attitude, you’ll be the best kind of a crew member that any skipper

-could ask for!”

-

-Sandy’s Uncle Russ had been waiting by his car while the boys had been

-talking and taking in the sights, sounds and smells of the Cliffport

-Boat Yard. Now he moved over to join them. “The trunk of the car is

-open,” he said, “and your sea bags are in there. And that’s as much as I

-intend to do about it. I don’t know much about sailors, but if they’re

-anything at all like soldiers, they carry their own packs! Now let’s get

-going!”

-

-The boys grinned sheepishly and ran to the back of the car to gather

-their equipment, and Russell Steele relaxed and dropped his mock

-military manner. An ex-general of the United States Army, he often

-kidded Sandy and his friends by pretending that they were soldiers in

-his command. This time, he reflected, it was very nearly true. In the

-same way that a general must feel a responsibility toward the men he

-sends out on a mission, Russell Steele felt responsible for Sandy and

-Jerry as they were preparing to set out on this trip.

-

-After all, he reminded himself, the trip had been his idea, and the

-sailboat had been his present to Sandy. He had been using the boat

-during the last few months while doing some research on special

-underwater equipment for the government, and now he no longer had any

-need for it. As Vice President of World Dynamics Corporation, Russell

-Steele was in charge of the New Projects Division. World Dynamics was a

-sprawling concern with almost unlimited interests, often in the most

-secret kinds of affairs, and his work with it often called him to

-different parts of the world. He had found his stay in Cliffport a

-pleasant change from some of the remote and often primitive places he

-had been forced to settle in in the past. Now, however, he was off

-again, to one more secret destination. He wouldn’t be in a position to

-use a sailboat again for a long time to come.

-

-Sandy’s Uncle Russ had been brought up on the seacoast of California.

-While his brother, Sandy’s father, had become fascinated with the rocks

-and geological formations of the nearby mountains and deserts, he had

-gone in the other direction to the shores of the Pacific. During nearly

-all of his boyhood he had puttered around boats and boat yards.

-

-Although Russell Steele had spent most of his adult life in the Army

-(and maybe because of it) he had always had a soft spot in his heart for

-the sport of sailing. He had regretted that Sandy, his only nephew,

-lived inland in Valley View where he was unable to share in this

-enthusiasm. But Valley View was only a couple of hours from the seacoast

-and now that Sandy was old enough to drive a car, it would be possible

-for him to own and enjoy a sailboat.

-

-Uncle Russ thought of all this, and then he wondered whether it had been

-a good idea to suggest that the boys bring the sloop all the way down

-from Cliffport on their very first sail. Still, he mused, Jerry seemed

-like a responsible lad, and he had said that he knew how to handle a

-boat well enough to make such a trip. And Sandy learned fast and was

-good with his hands. Well, the General thought to himself, we’ll just

-have to give them their heads and let them try it to see how they make

-out....

-

-At that moment in his reflections, the boys joined him with their

-luggage, and all three started through the boat yard to the waterfront.

-As they picked their way through the clutter of boats, scrap lumber,

-railroad tracks and equipment, they passed close by the side of a boat

-standing on the ways about to be launched. Sandy ran his hand over the

-gleaming paintwork of the hull, and found that it was as smooth as

-glass. Jerry explained that great care was given to getting a smooth

-paint job, because the greatest force working against a boat to slow it

-down is the friction created by the water passing over the hull. Good

-racing boats, he told Sandy, are hauled out of the water to be cleaned

-and painted several times in a season.

-

-Their walk had by now led them down to the water’s edge, where they

-walked along a weathered wharf. A light, early-morning haze made the

-colors of the sailboats that floated in the bay seem soft and pale. The

-water and the sky appeared to be one single surface, with no break or

-horizon line to indicate where one stopped and the other began. The

-boat-yard flag on its mast atop the main shed fluttered lazily in a mild

-breeze, and a gentle ground swell made soft, lapping sounds under the

-wharf.

-

-Strolling along, they came to a long, steeply sloping gangway that

-descended to a floating dock, to which were tied several small sailboats

-that rocked quietly on the smooth swell of Cliffport Bay.

-

-Russell Steele took his pipe out of his mouth and pointed with it. “See

-there?” he said. “The third sloop—the one with the white hull and the

-green decks and the varnished mast—that’s your new sailboat, Sandy, and

-I hope you enjoy it as much as I have.”

-

-Before he had finished his sentence, Sandy and Jerry were down the steep

-gangway, racing along the floating dock to where the trim, white sloop

-was tied. Russ Steele smiled, replaced his pipe in his mouth, and

-followed at a pace almost as fast as the boys’.

-

-“It’s a beauty!” Sandy panted, pushing his hair back from his eyes.

-“What slick lines! And look at how roomy the cabin is! And look at the

-height of the mast! And all that rigging!”

-

-His grin faded, and a look of bewilderment spread across his face. “Boy,

-I can sure say that again! Just look at all that rigging! How am I

-supposed to know what to do with what and when to do it, Jerry?”

-

-Jerry laughed, and jumped lightly into the small cockpit. “Come on

-board, skipper, and we’ll start your first sailing lesson by showing you

-around and telling you the names of things. It’s not half as complicated

-as it looks. In fact, this sloop rig is just about the simplest there

-is. As soon as you learn what to call things, you’ll have the hardest

-part of the lesson over with.”

-

-Sandy followed Jerry into the cockpit, then paused to turn and face his

-uncle, who was still standing on the dock. “How about you, Uncle Russ?”

-he asked. “Will you stick around for a little while and take the first

-sail with us?”

-

-“Thanks for asking, Sandy,” Russell Steele answered, “but much as I’d

-like to come along with you, I can’t manage it. I have to be back in my

-office this afternoon for an important conference. In fact, I’ll just

-about make it if I get started now. But before I get under way, and

-before you get carried away with the fine art of sailing, there are a

-few things that you’ll need to know.”

-

-He talked rapidly and uninterruptedly for about five minutes and, when

-he had finished, Sandy appreciated for the first time how thoroughly

-well-organized his Uncle Russ was. His preparations for the boys’ trip

-had been complete in every last detail. Russell Steele’s practiced

-military mind had reviewed the situation and had missed nothing that

-might be needed.

-

-The sailboat had been fully provisioned for more than a week of sailing,

-and had been equipped for every possible emergency as well as for a

-routine and pleasant cruise. The small cabin contained an alcohol

-cookstove and a good supply of canned food. Every locker and storage

-place was full, and everything put on board had been chosen with care

-and an eye for both comfort and necessity.

-

-A complete tool chest was stowed in its cubby with several boxes of

-spare hardware, ship fittings, nuts and bolts, wire and odd tackle. A

-drawer under one of the bunks contained a whole assortment of fishing

-equipment. Another carried an odd mixture of things that the boys might

-want, even including clothespins for drying garments, and a sewing kit.

-A specially made bag contained another sewing kit, this one for sails

-and canvas repair.

-

-In a narrow, hanging locker in the forward part of the cabin were two

-complete foul-weather suits consisting of waterproof pants and jackets

-with hoods. Below them were two pairs of sea boots.

-

-Opposite this was the small enclosed “head,” sailor’s word for bathroom.

-No bigger than a telephone booth, it still managed to contain a toilet

-and a sink, plus a cabinet for medicines and first-aid supplies and

-another for towels, soap, toothbrushes and the like.

-

-“The only things that you won’t find on board yet,” Russell Steele

-concluded, “are your sleeping bags and your air mattresses. I’ve ordered

-special ones that the local store didn’t have in stock, and they’re not

-due to arrive until tomorrow. For tonight, you’ll have to plan on

-sleeping ashore, but I’ve taken care of that for you, too. I’ve got a

-room reserved for you at the Cliffport Hotel. After tomorrow, you can

-sleep on board, like sailors.”

-

-He scowled at his pipe for several seconds, as if he hoped to see in it

-some hint of anything that he might have forgotten to take care of, and

-he mentally checked each item again. Sails okay? Charts and navigating

-instruments in place? Food? Tools? Spare lines? Life jackets? Oars for

-the dinghy? Cleaning equipment? Sea anchor? Everything checked out. At

-last, satisfied that all was in good order, he smiled and clamped the

-pipe in his teeth again.

-

-“I think,” he said, “the only thing I’ve forgotten is the seagoing way

-to say goodbye!”

-

-He settled for “Ahoy!” and “Smooth sailing!” and, brushing off Sandy’s

-thanks, walked briskly up the gangway without turning back.

-

-The boys watched him as he turned the corner of the main shed and walked

-out of sight, then they gave all their attention to a close survey of

-their new floating home.

-

-

-

-

-                             CHAPTER THREE

-                            Shakedown Cruise

-

-

-“Well, Jerry, what do you think of it?” Sandy asked his friend, as he

-cast a proud eye along the sleekly shaped length of the little sloop.

-

-“Not ‘it,’” Jerry said. “You should say ‘her.’ You always call boats

-‘she’ or ‘her,’ though I’ve never met a sailor who could tell you why.”

-

-Jerry looked critically down the twenty-four-foot length of the sloop.

-“She looks really seaworthy,” he said, “and she looks pretty fast, too.

-Of course, this is not a racing boat, you know. They use this kind

-mostly for day sailing and for short cruises. Even so, she looks as if

-she’ll go. Of course, we can’t really tell until we’ve tried her, and I

-don’t think we’ll be ready to try anything fast for a little while yet.”

-

-Noticing the flicker of disappointment that crossed Sandy’s face, Jerry

-added, “I’d rather have a boat like this than any racing machine ever

-built. And I’m not saying that just to make you feel better about not

-having a racer. There’s not much difference in actual speed between a

-really fast boat and an ordinary good boat of the same size. But there

-sure is a lot of difference in comfort. And I like my comfort when I go

-for a cruise.”

-

-“Why should a racing boat be uncomfortable?” Sandy asked.

-

-“It’s not uncomfortable for racing, or for day sailing,” Jerry answered,

-“but a racing boat of this size wouldn’t be fitted out for cruising at

-all. You see, to get the most speed out of a boat, designers make sure

-that the hull is kept as light as possible and as streamlined as

-possible, too. A light hull will ride with less of its surface in the

-water, and that cuts down on the amount of friction. You remember what I

-told you about friction before?”

-

-Sandy nodded, and Jerry went on. “Streamlining the hull shape helps it

-to cut through the water without making a lot of waves at the bow to

-hold it back. Not only that, but to make the boat really as fast as

-possible, most designers want to streamline the decks, too. That way,

-even the air resistance is lowered. Well, when you streamline the hull,

-you make less cabin space below. Then when you streamline the decks, you

-have to lower the cabin roof so that it’s level with the decks. You can

-see that in a small boat like this, you wind up with no cabin at all.”

-

-“I see,” Sandy said. “But how does the lightness of the hull affect

-comfort? I’m not so sure I understand that.”

-

-“When you have a light hull,” Jerry replied, “it’s a good idea to keep

-it light. If you overload it, you lose the advantage you built into it

-in the first place. That means that you can’t carry all the stuff we

-have on board to make for comfortable, safe cruising. Our bunks, the

-galley, the head, the spare anchor, all the tools and supplies—it adds

-up to a lot of weight. If you want a really fast boat, you have to leave

-all that stuff behind.”

-

-“Then if this were a racing boat,” Sandy said, “we wouldn’t have

-anything more than a small cockpit and a lot of deck, with a little

-storage space! No wonder you said you’d rather have a boat like this!

-But there’s one thing I’d still like to know. You said that there wasn’t

-much difference in real speed between a racing boat and an ordinary good

-boat. How much is ‘not much’?”

-

-Jerry thought for a minute. “Well—” he said, at length—“I’d have to know

-a lot more about boat design than I know to give you an accurate answer,

-but I can give you a rough idea. This is a twenty-four-foot boat. If it

-were a racing hull, you might get eight and a half or maybe even nine

-knots out of it under ideal conditions. For practical purposes, you can

-figure eight or less. A knot, by the way, is a nautical mile, and it’s a

-little more than a regular mile. When you say eight knots, you mean

-eight nautical miles an hour.”

-

-“But that’s not fast!” Sandy objected. “You said that’s what a fast

-racing boat would do!”

-

-Jerry smiled. “Believe me, Sandy,” he said, “when your boat is heeling

-way over and your decks are awash and your sails are straining full of

-wind, it seems like an awful lot of speed! You’ll see when we get out

-today. Besides, speed is all relative. A really dangerous speed on a

-bike would seem like a slow crawl in a car.”

-

-“I guess you’re right,” Sandy answered. “But you didn’t tell me how fast

-this boat will go, compared to a racer.”

-

-“I think we’ll get five or six knots out of her,” Jerry replied

-thoughtfully. “That’s not fast, but it’s only a couple of knots slower

-than the fastest. You see now what I mean?”

-

-Sandy nodded, then said, “I’m with you, Jerry. Now that I know a little

-bit about it, I sure think you’re right. I’d much rather have a boat we

-can sleep on and take on trips up and down the coast than a racer that

-doesn’t even go so fast! Besides, I’d be pretty foolish to think about

-any other kind of boat at all, wouldn’t I? I don’t even have the least

-idea of how to sail this one yet! Come on, Jerry, start showing me!”

-

-As Jerry carefully explained the different parts of the rigging, the

-complicated-looking series of wires and ropes around the mast began to

-look a whole lot simpler to Sandy. The first thing he learned was that

-not much of the rigging moved or was used for actual sailing of the

-boat. The parts that didn’t move were called “standing rigging,” and if

-you eliminated them from your thoughts, it made the “running rigging”

-comparatively easy to understand.

-

-“You have to learn about the rigging first,” Jerry said. “The idea is

-simple enough. The standing rigging is used to support the mast and keep

-it from bending to either side or to the front or back when the sails

-start to put pressure on it. The standing rigging is every line or cable

-you see that comes from the top of the mast or near it down to the outer

-edge of the deck or to the bow or stern.”

-

-Sandy looked about the little sloop, and noticed that this seemed to

-take care of more than half of what he saw.

-

-“The running rigging,” Jerry went on, “is used to raise and lower the

-sails and to control their position to catch the wind when you’re

-sailing. The lines that are used to raise and lower the sails on the

-mast are called halyards. They work just like the ropes on a flagpole.

-The other kind of running rigging—the lines used to control the way the

-sails set—are called sheets. You’d think that a sheet was a sail,

-wouldn’t you? It isn’t, though. It’s the line that controls a sail.”

-

-“I think I understand so far,” Sandy said, “but don’t you think it would

-be easier for me to learn if we went out for a sail and I could see

-everything working?”

-

-“Right,” Jerry said. “That’s just what I was going to say next. Telling

-you this way makes me feel too much like a schoolteacher!”

-

-Jerry decided that it would not be a good idea to try to sail away from

-the dock, because the part of the harbor they were in was so crowded.

-There would be little room to maneuver with only the light morning winds

-to help them. The best thing to do, he concluded, was to move the boat

-to a less crowded part of the harbor. At the same time, he would teach

-Sandy the way to get away from a mooring. In order to do all this, Jerry

-explained, they would row out in the dinghy, towing the sloop behind

-them. Once out in open water, they would tie the dinghy behind them and

-pull it along as they sailed.

-

-Together they unlashed the dinghy, which was resting on chocks on the

-cabin roof. Light and easy to handle, the dinghy was no trouble at all

-to launch, and in a minute it was floating alongside, looking like a

-cross between a canoe and a light-weight bathtub.

-

-Getting into the dinghy carefully, so as not to upset its delicate

-balance, they untied the sloop from the dock. Then they fastened the bow

-line of the sloop to a ring on the stern of the dinghy, got out the

-stubby oars and started to row.

-

-At first, it took some strong pulling at the oars to start the sailboat

-moving away from the dock, and Sandy feared that they would tip over the

-frail cockleshell of the dinghy. But once the sloop started to move,

-Sandy found that it took surprisingly little effort to tow it along. It

-glided easily behind them, its tall mast swaying overhead, as they rowed

-slowly out into the waters of Cliffport Bay.

-

-“We’ll find an empty mooring, and tie up for a few minutes,” Jerry said.

-“I don’t think that anyone will mind. I want to show you the method

-we’ll use most of the time for getting under way.” He pointed to the

-anchorage area, or “holding ground,” as it was called, and Sandy noticed

-several blocks of painted wood floating about. They had numbers, and

-some had small flags on them. “Those are moorings,” Jerry explained.

-“They’re just permanent anchors, with floats to mark the spot and to

-hold up the end of the mooring line. Every boat owner has his own

-mooring to come in to. The people who own these empty moorings are

-probably out sailing for the day, and we won’t interfere if we use one

-for a while.”

-

-Easing back on the oars, they let the sloop lose momentum and came to a

-natural stop near one of the moorings. They transferred the bow line

-from the dinghy to the mooring and made the sloop fast in its temporary

-berth. Then they climbed back on board and tied the dinghy behind them.

-Jerry explained that a long enough scope of line should be left for the

-dinghy so as to keep it from riding up and overtaking the sloop, as

-accidents of this sort have been known to damage the bow of a fragile

-dinghy.

-

-This done, Jerry busied himself by unlashing the boom and the rudder to

-get them ready to use, while Sandy went below for the sail bags. These

-were neatly stacked in a forward locker, each one marked with the name

-of the type of sail it contained. He selected the ones marked “main” and

-“jib,” as Jerry had asked him to, and brought them out into the cockpit.

-

-Making the mainsail ready to hoist, Sandy quickly got the knack of

-threading the sail slides onto the tracks on the mast and the boom. He

-worked at this while Jerry made the necessary adjustments to the

-halyards and fastened them to the heads of the sails. When this job was

-done, Sandy slid the foot of the sail aft along the boom, and Jerry made

-it fast with a block-and-tackle arrangement which was called the “clew

-outhaul.”

-

-“Now,” Jerry said, when they had finished, “it’s time to hoist the

-mainsail!”

-

-“What about the mooring?” Sandy asked. “Don’t you want me to untie the

-boat from it first?”

-

-“Not yet,” Jerry answered. “We won’t do that until we’re ready to go.”

-

-“But won’t we start going as soon as we pull up the mainsail?” said

-Sandy, puzzled.

-

-“No,” Jerry said. “Nothing will happen when we hoist the sail. It’s like

-raising a flag. The flag doesn’t fill with wind and pull at the flagpole

-like a sail, does it? It just points into the wind and flutters. That’s

-just what the mainsail will do. You see, the boat is already pointing

-into the wind, because the wind has swung us around on the mooring. You

-look around and you’ll see that all the boats out here are heading in

-the exact same direction, toward the wind. When we hoist the sail, it’ll

-act just like a flag, and flap around until we’re ready to use it. Then

-we’ll make it do what we want it to by using the jib and controlling its

-position with the sheets. Look.”

-

-Jerry hauled on the main halyard, and the sail slid up its tracks on the

-mast, squeaking and grating. As it reached the masthead, it fluttered

-and bellied loosely in the wind, doing nothing to make the boat move in

-any direction. Motioning to Sandy to take his place tugging at the

-halyard, Jerry jumped down into the cockpit.

-

-The halyard ran from the pointed head of the sail up through a pulley at

-the top of the mast, then down to where Sandy was hauling on it. Below

-his hands, it passed through another pulley near Sandy’s feet, then back

-along the cabin roof. Jerry, from his position in the cockpit, grabbed

-the end of the halyard and hauled tight, taking the strain from Sandy.

-Then he tied it down to a wing-shaped cleat on the cabin roof near the

-cockpit.

-

-This was done with a few expert flips of the wrist. The mainsail was up,

-and tightly secured.

-

-“There,” Jerry said. “Now we’re almost ready. We won’t move at all until

-we get the jib up, and even then we won’t move unless we want to. When

-we want to, we’ll untie from the mooring and get away as neat as you

-please.”

-

-They then took the jib out of its sail bag and made ready to hoist it.

-Instead of securing to the mast with slides on a track the way the

-mainsail had, the jib had a series of snaps stitched to its forward

-edge. These were snapped around the steel wire forestay, a part of the

-standing rigging that ran from the bow of the boat to a position high up

-on the mast. The jib halyard was fastened to the head of the jib, the

-snaps were put in place, and a few seconds of work saw the jib hanging

-in place, flapping before the mast. Then Jerry asked Sandy to pick up

-the mooring that they had tied to, and to walk aft with it.

-

-“When you walk aft with the mooring,” Jerry explained, “you actually put

-some forward motion on the boat. Then, when you get aft and I tell you

-to throw the mooring over, you put the bow a little off the wind by

-doing it.”

-

-Sandy untied the bow line from the mooring, and walked to the stern of

-the boat, holding the mooring float as he had been told. Then, when

-Jerry said “Now!” he threw the mooring over with a splash.

-

-“With the jib flying and the boat free from the mooring and no longer

-pointing directly into the wind,” Jerry said, “the wind will catch the

-jib and blow our bow even further off. At the same time, I’ll steer to

-the side instead of straight ahead. As soon as our bow is pointing

-enough away from the wind, the breeze will strike our sails from one

-side, and they’ll start to fill. When the sails have caught the wind

-right, I’ll ease off on the rudder, and we’ll be moving ahead.”

-

-By this time, the morning haze had “burned off” and the light breeze had

-freshened into a crisp, steady wind. As the head of the little sloop

-“fell away” from the direction from which the wind was coming, the sails

-swelled, the boat leaned slightly to one side, and a ripple of waves

-splashed alongside the hull. Sandy looked back and saw that the bow of

-the dinghy, trailing behind them, was beginning to cut a small white

-wave through the water.

-

-“We’re under way!” Jerry cried. “Come on over here, skipper! You take

-the tiller and learn how to steer your boat while I handle the sails and

-show you what to do!”

-

-Sandy slid over on the stern seat to take Jerry’s place, and held the

-tiller in the position he had been shown, while Jerry explained how to

-trim the sails and how to go where you wanted to go instead of where the

-wind wanted to take you.

-

-“I’ll take care of the sail trimming,” Jerry said. “All you have to do

-is keep the boat heading on the course she’s sailing now. The wind is

-pretty much at our backs and off to the starboard side. You have to keep

-it that way, and especially keep the stern from swinging around to face

-the wind directly. It’s not hard to do. Just pick a landmark and steer

-toward it.”

-

-He looked ahead to where a point of land jutted out some miles off the

-mainland. A lighthouse tower made an exclamation mark against the sky.

-

-“Just steer a little to the right of that,” he said, “and we can’t go

-wrong.”

-

-“What if the wind shifts?” Sandy asked. “How can we tell?”

-

-Jerry pointed to the masthead, where a small triangular metal flag

-swung. “Just keep an eye on that,” he said. “It’s called a hawk, and

-it’s a sailor’s weathervane.”

-

-“With one eye on the lighthouse and one eye on the masthead,” Sandy

-laughed, “I’m going to look awfully silly!”

-

-He leaned back in the stern seat with the tiller tucked under his arm.

-The little sloop headed steadily for the lighthouse, steering easily.

-Every few seconds, Sandy glanced at the hawk to check the wind. He

-grinned and relaxed. He was steering his own boat! The sail towered tall

-and white against the blue sky above him and the water gurgled alongside

-and in the wake behind where the dinghy bobbed along like a faithful

-puppy.

-

-“This is the life!” he sighed.

-

-Jerry pointed out a handsome, white-hulled, two-masted boat approaching

-them. “Isn’t that a beauty?” he said. “It’s a ketch. On a ketch, the

-mainmast is taller than the mizzen. That’s how you tell the difference.”

-

-“How do you tell the difference between the mainmast and the mizzen?”

-Sandy asked. “You’re going to have to start with the simplest stuff with

-me.”

-

-“The mainmast is always the one in front, and the mizzen is always the

-one aft,” Jerry explained. “A ketch has a taller main; a schooner has a

-taller mizzen; a yawl is the same as a ketch, except that the mizzen is

-set aft of the tiller. Got it?”

-

-Sandy shook his head and wondered if he would ever get all of this

-straight in his head. It was enough trying to learn the names of things

-on his own boat without worrying about the names of everything on other

-boats in the bay.

-

-As the ketch sailed by, the man at her tiller waved a friendly greeting.

-The boys waved back and Sandy watched the big ketch go smoothly past,

-wondering how much harder it might be to sail a two-masted boat of that

-size than it was to sail a relatively small sloop such as his own.

-Certainly it could not be as simple as the sloop, he thought. Why this

-little sailboat was a whole lot easier than it had seemed to be at

-first. As a matter of fact....

-

-“Duck your head!” Jerry yelled.

-

-Not even stopping to think, Sandy dropped his head just in time to avoid

-being hit by the boom, which whizzed past barely a few inches above him!

-With a sharp crack of ropes and canvas, the sail filled with wind on the

-opposite side of the boat from where it had been a moment before, and

-the sloop heeled violently in the same direction. Jerry grabbed at the

-tiller, hauled in rapidly on the mainsheet, and set a new course. Then,

-calming down, he explained to Sandy what had happened.

-

-“We jibed,” he said. “That means that you let the wind get directly

-behind us and then on the wrong side of us. The mainsail got the wind on

-the back of it, and the wind took it around to the other side of the

-boat. Because the sheets were let out all the way, there was nothing to

-restrain the sail from moving, and by the time it got over, it was going

-at a pretty fast clip. You saw the results!”

-

-Jerry adjusted the mainsail to a better position relative to the wind,

-trimming it carefully to keep it from bagging, then he went on to

-explain. “A jibe can only happen when you’ve got the wind at your back.

-That’s called sailing downwind, or sailing before the wind, or running

-free. It’s the most dangerous point of sail, because of the chance of

-jibing. When the wind is strong, an uncontrolled jibe like the one we

-just took can split your sails, or ruin your rigging, or even snap your

-boom or your mast. Not to mention giving you a real bad headache if

-you’re in the way of that boom!”

-

-“I can just imagine,” Sandy said, thinking of the force with which the

-boom had whizzed by. Then he added, “You said something about an

-‘uncontrolled jibe,’ I think. Does that mean that there’s some way to

-control it?”

-

-“I should have said an accidental jibe instead of an uncontrolled one,”

-Jerry said. “A deliberate or planned jibe is always controlled, and it’s

-a perfectly safe and easy maneuver. All you have to do is to haul in on

-the sheet, so that the boom won’t have any room for free swinging. Then

-you change your course to the new tack, let out the sail, and you’re off

-with no trouble.”

-

-Sandy grinned. “I’m afraid that description went over my head as fast as

-the boom did—only a whole lot higher up!”

-

-“Things always sound complicated when you describe them,” Jerry said,

-“but we’ll do a couple later, and you’ll see how it works.”

-

-“Fine,” Sandy agreed. “But until we do, how can I keep from doing any

-more of the accidental variety?”

-

-“The only way to avoid jibing,” Jerry replied, “is never to let the wind

-blow from the same side that the sail is set on. This means that if you

-feel the wind shift over that way, you have to alter your course quickly

-to compensate for it. If you don’t want to alter your course, then you

-have to do a deliberate jibe and alter the direction of the sail. All it

-means is that you have to keep alert at the tiller, and keep an eye on

-the hawk, the way I told you, so that you always know which direction

-the wind is blowing from.”

-

-“I guess I was getting too much confidence a lot too soon,” Sandy

-admitted, shamefaced. “There’s obviously a lot more to this sailing

-business than I was beginning to think. Anyway, a jibe is one thing I

-won’t let happen again. I’ll stop looking at other boats for a while,

-and pay more attention to this one! There’s more than enough to look at

-here, I guess.”

-

-Once more, Sandy cautiously took the tiller from Jerry. Then he grinned

-ruefully and said, “Just do me one favor, will you, Jerry?”

-

-“Sure. What?”

-

-“Just don’t call me ‘skipper’ any more. Not for a while, at least!”

-

-

-

-

-                              CHAPTER FOUR

-                          The Man with the Gun

-

-

-“Just keep her sailing on this downwind course,” Jerry said. “Head for

-that lighthouse the way you were before, and keep an occasional eye on

-the hawk. As long as the wind isn’t dead astern, we shouldn’t have any

-more jibing troubles. As soon as we get out into open water, we’ll find

-an easier point of sail. We can’t do that until we’re clear of the

-channel, though. When we are, we’ll reach for a while, and then I’ll

-show you how to beat.”

-

-“What’s reaching?” Sandy asked. “And what’s beating? And how do you know

-when we’re out of the channel into open water? And how do you even know

-for sure that we’re in the channel now? And how....”

-

-“Whoa! Wait a minute! Let’s take one question at a time. A reach is when

-you’re sailing with the wind coming more from the side than from in

-front or from behind the boat. Beating is when the wind is more in front

-than on the side, and you have to sail into it. Beating is more like

-work than fun, but a reach is the fastest and easiest kind of a course

-to sail. That’s why I want to reach as soon as we’re out in open water

-where we can pick our direction without having to worry about channel

-markers.”

-

-“How come reaching is the fastest kind of course to sail?” Sandy asked.

-“I would have guessed that sailing downwind with the wind pushing the

-boat ahead of it would be the fastest.”

-

-“It sure seems as if it ought to work that way,” Jerry said with a grin.

-“But you’ll find that sailboat logic isn’t always so simple or easy.

-When you’re running free in front of the wind, you can only go as fast

-as the wind is blowing. When you’re reaching, you can actually sail a

-lot faster than the wind.”

-

-“I’m afraid that I don’t understand that,” Sandy said. “How does it

-work?”

-

-Jerry paused and thought for a minute. “You remember what Quiz said

-about the sailboat working like an airplane? Well, he made it sound

-pretty tough to understand, what with all his formulas and proportions,

-but actually he was right. A sail is a lot like an airplane wing, except

-that it’s standing up on end instead of sticking out to one side. Well,

-you know that the propellers on a plane make wind, and that the plane

-flies straight into that wind. You see, the wind that comes across the

-wing makes a vacuum on top of the wing surface, and the plane is drawn

-up into the vacuum. You get a lot more lift that way than if the

-propellers were under the wing and blowing straight up on the bottom of

-it.”

-

-“I see that,” Sandy said. “And a propeller blowing under a wing would be

-pretty much the same as a wind blowing at the back of a sail. Right?”

-

-“Right!” Jerry said, looking pleased with his teaching ability. “Now you

-have the idea. When you have a sail, like a wing standing up, the air

-that passes over the sail makes a vacuum in front and pulls the boat

-forward into it. Actually, the vacuum pulls us forward and to one side,

-the same as the wind from the propeller makes the plane go forward and

-up. We use the rudder and the keel to keep us going more straight than

-sideways.”

-

-Sandy shook his head as if to clear away cobwebs. “I think that I

-understand now, but it’s still a little hazy in my mind. Maybe I’ll do

-better if you don’t tell me about the theory, and I just see the way it

-works.”

-

-“Could be,” Jerry said. “There are lots of old-time fishermen and other

-fine sailors who have absolutely no idea of how their boats work, and

-who wouldn’t know a law of physics or a principle of aerodynamics if it

-sat on their mastheads and yelled at them like a sea gull! They just do

-what comes naturally, and they know the way to handle a boat without

-worrying about what makes it run.”

-

-Still heading on their downwind course, they passed several small

-islands and rocks, some marked with lights and towers, some with bells

-or floating buoys. They seemed to slide by gracefully as the little

-sloop left the mainland farther behind in its wake.

-

-“Before we get out of the channel,” Jerry said, “I want to show you some

-of the channel markers and tell you about how to read them. They’re the

-road signs of the harbors, and if you know what they mean and what to do

-about them, you’ll never get in any trouble when it comes to finding

-your way in and out of a port.”

-

-He pointed to a nearby marker that was shaped like a pointed rocket nose

-cone floating in the water. It was painted a bright red, and on its side

-in white was painted a large number 4.

-

-“That’s called a nun buoy,” Jerry told Sandy. “Now look over there. Do

-you see that black buoy shaped just like an oversized tin can? That’s

-called a can buoy. The cans and the nuns mark the limits of the channel,

-and they tell you to steer between them. The rule is, when you’re

-leaving a harbor, to keep the red nun buoys on your port side. That’s

-the left side. When you’re entering a harbor, keep the red nun buoys on

-your starboard side. The best way to remember it is by the three R’s of

-offshore navigating: ‘Red Right Returning.’”

-

-Sandy nodded. “I understand that all right,” he said. “But what are the

-numbers for?”

-

-“The numbers are to tell you how far from the harbor you are,” Jerry

-said. “Red nun buoys are always even-numbered, and black cans are always

-odd-numbered. They run in regular sequence, and they start from the

-farthest buoy out from the shore. For example, we just sailed past red

-nun buoy number 4. That means that the next can we see will be marked

-number 3, and it will be followed by a number 2 nun and a number 1 can.

-After we pass the number 1 can, we’ll be completely out of the channel,

-and we’ll have open water to sail in.”

-

-“Do they have the same kind of markers everywhere,” Sandy asked, “or do

-you have to learn them specially for each port that you sail in?”

-

-“You’ll find the same marks in almost every place in the world,” Jerry

-said. “But you won’t have to worry about the world for a long while. The

-important thing is that the marking and buoyage system is the same exact

-standard for every port in the United States and Canada.”

-

-“What’s that striped can I see floating over there?” Sandy asked,

-pointing.

-

-Jerry looked at the buoy. “That’s a special marker,” he answered. “All

-of the striped buoys have some special meaning, and it’s usually marked

-on the charts. They’re mostly used to mark a junction of two channels,

-or a middle ground, or an obstruction of some kind. You can sail to

-either side of them, but you shouldn’t go too close. At least that’s the

-rule for the horizontally striped ones. The markers with vertical

-stripes show the middle of the channel, and you’re supposed to pass them

-as close as you can, on either side.”

-

-Another few minutes of sailing brought them past the last red buoy, and

-they were clear of the marked channel. From here on they were free to

-sail as they wanted, in any direction they chose to try.

-

-For the next hour they practiced reaching. With the wind blowing

-steadily from the starboard side, the trim sloop leaned far to the port

-until the waves were creaming almost up to the level of the deck. Jerry

-explained that this leaning position, called “heeling,” was the natural

-and proper way for a sailboat to sit in the water. The only way that a

-boat could sail level, he pointed out, was before the wind. With the

-boat heeling sharply and the sails and the rigging pulled tight in the

-brisk breeze, Sandy really began to feel the sense of speed on the

-water, and understood what Jerry had told him about speed being

-relative.

-

-After they had practiced on a few long reaches, Jerry showed Sandy how

-to beat or point, which is the art of sailing more or less straight into

-the wind.

-

-“Of course you can’t ever sail straight into the wind,” Jerry said. “The

-best you can do is come close. If you head right into it, the sails will

-just flap around the way that they did when we were pointing into the

-wind at the mooring. You’ve got to sail a little to one side.”

-

-“Suppose you don’t want to go to one side?” Sandy asked. “If the wind is

-blowing straight from the place you want to get to, what do you do about

-it?”

-

-“You have to compromise,” Jerry replied. “You’ll never get there by

-aiming the boat in that direction. What you have to do is sail for a

-point to one side of it for a while, then come about and sail for a

-point on the other side of it for a while. It’s a kind of long zigzag

-course. You call it tacking. Each leg of the zigzag is called a tack.”

-

-Sailing into the wind, they tacked first on one side, then on the other.

-Each time they came about onto a new tack, the mainsail was shifted to

-the other side of the boat, and the boat heeled in the same direction as

-the sail. The jib came about by itself, just by loosening one sheet and

-taking up on the other one. Soon Sandy was used to the continual

-shifting and resetting of the sails, and to the boom passing back and

-forth overhead.

-

-Suddenly Sandy pointed and clapped Jerry on the shoulder with

-excitement. “Look!” he cried. “There’s a whole fleet of boats coming

-this way! They look just like ours! And they’re racing!”

-

-Jerry looked up in surprise. “They sure are racing! And they are just

-like this one! I guess I was wrong when I said they didn’t race this

-kind of boat. This must be a local class, built to specifications for

-local race rules. Boy, look at them go! I was wrong about not racing

-them, but I sure was right when I said that she looked fast!”

-

-The fleet of sloops swept past, heeling sharply to one side, with the

-crews perched on the high sides as live ballast, and the water foaming

-white along the low decks which were washed over completely every moment

-or so. The helmsmen on the nearest of the boats grinned at them and

-waved an invitation to come along and join the regatta, but neither

-Jerry nor Sandy felt quite up to sailing a race just yet.

-

-As they watched their white-sailed sisters fly down the bay, Sandy felt

-for the first time the excitement that could come from handling a boat

-really well. He turned to his own trim craft with renewed determination

-to learn everything that Jerry could teach him, and maybe, in due time,

-a whole lot more than that.

-

-The next few hours were spent in happily exploring Cliffport Bay and

-trying the sloop on a variety of tacks and courses to learn what she

-would do. Eventually, the sun standing high above the mast, they

-realized almost at the same time that it was definitely time for lunch.

-

-Jerry took the helm and the sheet while Sandy went below to see what the

-boat’s food locker could supply. In a few minutes, he poked his head out

-of the cabin hatch and shook it sadly at Jerry. “It looks as if Uncle

-Russ didn’t think of everything, after all. There’s plenty of food all

-right, but there’s not a thing on board to drink. The water jugs are

-here, but they’re bone-dry, and I’m not exactly up to eating peanut

-butter sandwiches without something to wash them down!”

-

-“Me either!” said Jerry, shuddering a little at the thought. “Of course,

-we could settle on some of the juice from the canned fruits I saw in

-there, but we haven’t taken on any ice for our ice chest, and that’s all

-going to be pretty warm. In any case, we ought to have some water on

-board. I think we’d better look for a likely place near shore where we

-can drop anchor. Then we can take the dinghy in to one of the beach

-houses and fill up our jugs.”

-

-“Good idea,” Sandy agreed. “And that way we can eat while we’re at

-anchor, and not have to worry about sailing and eating at the same

-time.”

-

-Several small islands not too far away had houses on them, and the boys

-decided to set a course for the nearest one. As they drew near, they saw

-a sunny white house sitting on the crest of a small rise about a hundred

-yards back from the water. Below the house, a well-protected and

-pleasant-looking cove offered a good place for an anchorage. A floating

-dock was secured to a high stone pier, from which a path could be seen

-leading up to the house. It looked like an almost perfect summer place,

-set in broad green lawns, with several old shade trees near the house

-and with a general atmosphere of well-being radiating from everything.

-

-They glided straight into the little cove, then suddenly put the rudder

-over hard and brought the sloop sharply up into the wind. The sails

-flapped loosely, and the boat lost some of its headway, then glided

-slowly to a stop.

-

-On the bow, Sandy stood ready with the anchor, waiting for Jerry to tell

-him when to lower it. As the boat began to move a little astern, backing

-in the headwind, Jerry told Sandy to let the anchor down slowly.

-

-“You never drop an anchor, or throw it over the side. After all, you

-want the anchor to tip over, and to drive a hook into the bottom. It

-won’t do that if it’s just dropped.”

-

-When Sandy felt the anchor touch the bottom, he pulled back gently on

-the anchor line until he felt the hook take hold. Then, leading the line

-through the fair lead at the bow, he tied it securely to a cleat on the

-deck.

-

-Loosening the halyards, they dropped first the jib and then the

-mainsail, rolled them neatly, and secured them with strips of sailcloth,

-called stops. Jerry pointed out that it was not necessary to remove the

-slides and snaps. That way, he explained, it would only be a matter of

-minutes to get under way when they wanted to. With the last stop tied

-and the boom and the rudder lashed to keep them from swinging, the sloop

-was all shipshape at anchor, rocking gently on the swell about fifty

-yards from the end of the floating dock.

-

-“Let’s row the dinghy in to the dock and see if we can find somebody on

-shore,” Jerry suggested. “Of course, with no boats in here, there might

-not be anyone on the island right now, but I think that I saw a well up

-by the house, and I’m sure that no one would mind if we helped ourselves

-to a little water.”

-

-But Jerry was wrong on both counts. There was somebody on the island,

-and he looked far from hospitable. In fact, the tall man who came

-striding down the path to the float where the boys already had the

-dinghy headed was carrying a rifle—and, what was more, he looked

-perfectly ready to use it at any minute!

-

-“Turn back!” he shouted, as he reached the edge of the stone pier. “Turn

-back, I tell you, or I’ll shoot that dinghy full of holes and sink it

-right out from under you!” He raised the rifle deliberately to his

-shoulder and sighted down its length at the boys.

-

-“Wait a minute!” Sandy shouted back. “You’re making a mistake! We just

-need to get some water to drink! We don’t mean any harm!”

-

-The man lowered his rifle, but looked no friendlier than before. “I

-don’t care what you want,” he called, “but you can just sail off and get

-it some other place! This is my island and my cove. They’re both private

-property, and you’re trespassing here! Now turn that dinghy around and

-get back to your sailboat and go!”

-

-This speech finished, he raised his rifle to the firing position once

-more and aimed it at the dinghy.

-

-“All right, mister!” Jerry yelled back at him. “We’ll get going! But

-when we get back to the mainland, you can bet that we’re going to report

-you to the Coast Guard for your failure to give assistance! I’m not sure

-what they can do about it, but they sure ought to know that there’s a

-character like you around here! Maybe they’ll mark it on the charts, so

-that sailors in trouble won’t waste their time coming in here for help!”

-

-As the boys started to turn the dinghy about, they heard a shout from

-the man on the pier. “Wait a minute!” he called. “There’s no need to get

-so upset. I’m sorry—but I guess I made a mistake after all. Row on in to

-the float and I’ll get you some water.”

-

-Not at all sure that they were doing the wisest thing, but not wanting

-to anger the strange rifleman by not doing what he had suggested, they

-decided to risk coming to shore. After all, Sandy reasoned, he hadn’t

-actually threatened to shoot _them_—just the dinghy—and he couldn’t do

-much more harm from close up than from where they were. Besides, both

-boys were curious about the man and his island. They rowed to the

-floating dock and made the dinghy fast to a cleat.

-

-“I’m sorry, boys,” the man with the rifle said pleasantly. “It’s just

-that I’ve been bothered in the past by kids landing here for picnics and

-swimming parties when I’m not here. They leave the beach a mess, and one

-gang actually broke into the house once, and stole some things. That’s

-why I don’t like kids coming around. I thought you were more of the

-same, but I figured you were all right when you said that you’d report

-to the Coast Guard. Those other kids stay as far away from the Coast

-Guard and the Harbor Police as they can.”

-

-He smiled apologetically, but as Sandy started to climb up from the

-dinghy to the floating dock, his expression hardened once more.

-

-“I said that I’d get you some water,” he said, “but I didn’t invite you

-to come ashore and help yourselves to it. You just stay right where you

-are in that dinghy, and hand me up your water jars. I’ll fill them up

-for you, and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

-

-More than a little puzzled, Jerry and Sandy handed up their two soft

-plastic gallon jugs. Their “host” took them under one arm, leaving the

-other hand free for his rifle which he carried with a finger lying

-alongside of the trigger. Without a word, the island’s owner walked off.

-

-“I wonder what’s the matter with him,” Jerry said.

-

-“I don’t know,” Sandy replied, “but whatever it is, we’d better do what

-he says, or something pretty bad might be the matter with us!”

-

-Halfway up the path to the house, the tall man stopped, turned back, and

-looked hard at the boys before continuing on up the hill.

-

-“Mind you do just what I said!” he shouted back over his shoulder. “You

-just stay in that dinghy, and don’t get any fancy ideas about exploring

-around. If I find you ashore, I’m still as ready as ever to use this

-gun!”

-

-

-

-

-                              CHAPTER FIVE

-                              Storm Fears

-

-

-Unpredictable as the wind, the man was all smiles when he returned with

-the two jars filled with water. But he still had his gun.

-

-“I’m glad to see you stayed put in your dinghy,” he said. “I kept an eye

-on you from the hill.” He handed down the plastic jugs to Sandy and

-added, “Sorry I acted so gruff, but you know how it is. I live all alone

-out here, and even though the island is only a little over a half mile

-from the mainland it’s a pretty isolated spot. I have to be careful of

-strangers. But I should have seen right away that you boys are all

-right.”

-

-“Thanks,” said Sandy. “And thanks for filling our water jugs. We’re

-sorry we bothered you.”

-

-They cast the dinghy free, rowed quickly back to the sloop and, as fast

-as they could manage it, raised the anchor, hoisted the sails and

-skimmed out of the cove. As they rounded the rocky point that marked the

-entrance to the cove, they looked back to where the island’s lone

-inhabitant was standing on the dock, watching them out of sight, his

-rifle still held ready at his hip.

-

-“Boy, that’s a strange one!” Sandy said. “I wonder what he’s hiding on

-that island of his—a diamond mine?”

-

-“You never can tell,” Jerry replied, “but it’s probably nothing at all.

-I guess the kind of man who would want to live all alone on an island

-away from people is bound to be pretty crazy about getting all the

-privacy he can. And as far as I’m concerned, he can have it. From now

-on, if we need anything, let’s head for the mainland!”

-

-Dismissing the mysterious rifleman from their minds, they set out once

-more to enjoy the pleasures of a brisk wind, blue sky and a trim boat.

-

-The afternoon went swiftly by as Sandy learned more and more about

-handling his boat, and about the boats they saw sailing near them. Jerry

-pointed out the different types of boats, explaining more fully than

-before that the ones with one mast were called sloops, the two-masted

-boats were called yawls, ketches and schooners. Telling one from the

-other was a matter of knowing the arrangement of masts. The ketches had

-tall mainmasts and shorter mizzens behind them. The yawls had even

-shorter mizzens, set as far aft as possible. Schooners, with taller

-mizzen than main, were relatively rare.

-

-Jerry also pointed to varied types of one-masted boats. Not all of them,

-he told Sandy, were sloops, though most were. The sloops had their mast

-stepped about one third back from the bow. Cutters had their mast

-stepped nearly in the center of the boat. In addition, they saw a few

-catboats, with their single masts stepped nearly in the bows.

-

-Learning all this, plus trying to absorb all that Jerry was telling him

-about harbor markers, sail handling, steering, types of sails and

-conditions under which each sail is used, Sandy found the time flying

-by. Almost before he realized it, the sun was beginning to set and the

-boats around them were all heading back up the channel to find their

-moorings and tie up for the night.

-

-Everywhere they looked, the roadstead of Cliffport Bay was as busy as a

-highway. Sailboats of every description, outboard motorboats, big cabin

-cruisers, high-powered motor racers, rowboats, canoes, sailing canoes,

-kayaks, power runabouts, fishing excursion boats and dozens of other

-craft were making their way to shore.

-

-The afternoon, which had started so brightly, had become overcast, and

-the sun glowed sullenly behind a low bank of clouds. The breeze which

-had been steady but light during the late afternoon hours, suddenly

-picked up force and became a fairly hard wind. It felt cold and damp

-after the hot day. Joining the homebound pleasure fleet, Sandy and Jerry

-picked their way through the now crowded harbor, back to Cliffport Boat

-Yard.

-

-They arrived in a murky twilight, just a few minutes before the time

-when it would have become necessary for them to light the lanterns for

-the red and green running lights demanded by the International Rules of

-the Road.

-

-The boys decided to drop anchor in the boat yard’s mooring area, rather

-than tow the boat back to the float where it had been tied. This would

-make it unnecessary to tow the sloop out again for the next day’s

-sailing, when they would start on the long trip home.

-

-They dropped the sails, removed their slides and snaps on mast, boom and

-forestay, and carefully folded them for replacement in the sail bags.

-These were stowed below in their locker just forward of the cabin. Then

-Sandy and Jerry turned their attention to getting the boat ready for the

-night.

-

-Sandy helped Jerry rest the boom in its “crutch,” a piece of wood shaped

-like the letter _Y_, which was placed standing upright in a slot in the

-stern seat. This kept the boom from swinging loose when the boat was

-unattended, and thus protected both the boat, the boom and the rigging

-from damage. All the running gear was then lashed down or coiled and put

-away, the sliding cabin door and hatch cover were closed in place, and

-the sloop was ready to be left.

-

-“That’s what’s meant by ‘shipshape,’” Jerry said with satisfaction.

-

-As the boys rowed the dinghy back to the float, they felt the first fat

-drops of rain and they noticed how choppy the still waters of the bay

-had become. Jerry cast a sailor’s eye at the ominously darkening sky.

-

-“That’s more than evening coming on,” he said. “Unless I miss my guess,

-we’re in for a good storm tonight. To tell you the truth, I’m glad we’re

-staying ashore!”

-

-They lifted the dinghy from the water, turned it over on the float and

-placed the stubby oars below it. Then, picking up their sea bags, they

-ran for the shelter of the shed as the first torrential downpour of the

-storm washed Cliffport in a solid sheet of blinding rain.

-

-

-Later that night, after a change of clothes, dinner, and a movie at

-Cliffport’s only theater, the boys sat on their beds in the hotel room

-and listened to the howling fury of the storm. Raindrops rattled on the

-windowpanes like hailstones, and through the tossing branches of a tree

-they could see the riding lights of a few boats in the harbor, rocking

-violently to and fro. As they watched, the wind sent a large barrel

-bowling down the street to smash against a light pole, bounce off and

-roll, erratic as a kicked football, out of sight around a corner.

-

-“It’s a good thing we anchored out,” Jerry said, watching this evidence

-of the storm’s power. “The boat could really have gotten banged up

-against the float if we had tied it up where it was before!”

-

-“Do you think it’ll be safe where it is now?” Sandy asked anxiously.

-

-“Oh, a little wind and water won’t bother a good boat,” Jerry answered.

-“After all, it was made for wind and water! Still....” He scowled and

-shook his head doubtfully.

-

-“Still what?” Sandy said with alarm. “Is there something wrong with the

-way we left it?”

-

-“Not really,” Jerry said. “I’m just worried about one thing. We’re not

-tied to a permanent mooring, the way the other boats around here are.

-That means that we might drag anchor in a storm as bad as this one, and

-if we happen to drag into deep water where the anchor can’t reach the

-bottom, the boat could drift a long ways off until it hooked onto

-something again. And there’s always the chance that it could get washed

-up on the rocks somewhere, first!”

-

-With this unhappy thought in mind, the boys stared out the window for

-some time in silence as the storm continued unchecked. Finally, knowing

-that worry couldn’t possibly help, and that a good night’s sleep would

-prepare them to meet whatever the morning would bring, they turned out

-the lights and went to bed.

-

-But, for Sandy, bed was one thing—sleep was another. Although Jerry

-managed to drop off to slumber in no time, Sandy lay a long time awake

-staring at the shadows of the tossing tree on the ceiling of the hotel

-room.

-

-His mind was full of the events of the crowded day. It had been quite a

-day, starting with the ride in his uncle’s sports car, and proceeding to

-the new boat and learning to sail. Then the mysterious man on the

-island, keeping guard with his ever-present rifle, and concluding with a

-night of powerful storm. He reviewed all this, and mixed with his

-recollection his new worries about the safety of his boat. A series of

-images crowded his mind—a vision of the smart sloop lying smashed

-against some rocky piece of shore was mingled with a memory of the

-pleasures of his first day of sailing; and somewhere, behind and around

-all of his thoughts, was the unpleasantly frightening memory of the man

-with the gun, waiting on his hermit’s island.

-

-All of this mingled in his mind with the sound of the storm until Sandy

-slipped into an uncertain, restless sleep—a sleep filled with vague,

-shadowy dreams, connected only by a sense that somewhere, something was

-wrong.

-

-

-

-

-                              CHAPTER SIX

-                    Something Lost—Something Found!

-

-

-The next morning, when Sandy and Jerry awoke, the storm that had lashed

-Cliffport had vanished as if it, too, had been a bad dream.

-

-Cliffport’s Main Street, which fronted the bay, was washed clean, and

-sparkled in the bright morning light. The bay waters themselves even

-looked cleaner than before, freshly laundered blue and white, with

-silver points of sunlight sprinkled over their peaceful surface. It was,

-in short, a perfect sailing day, and the boys could hardly wait to get

-down to the boat yard to see if the sloop had ridden the storm at

-anchor.

-

-They dressed hurriedly in their sailing clothes—blue jeans, sneakers and

-sweat shirts—and bolted breakfast in the hotel coffee shop. Then, sea

-bags slung over their shoulders, they raced down the street to the

-Cliffport Boat Yard, rounded the corner of the main shed and, at the

-head of the gangway, came to a stop.

-

-Sandy felt a sick, sinking feeling as he scanned the mooring area,

-searching vainly for a sight of his sloop. But where she had ridden at

-anchor the night before, there was only a patch of calm blue water.

-

-It hardly seemed possible that she wasn’t there. The storm, on this

-bright, sunny morning, seemed never to have happened. Other boats rode

-peacefully at their moorings, apparently untouched by the night’s wild

-work. Life in the boat yard and on the bay went on as if nothing had

-occurred. But Sandy felt as if it were the end of the world.

-

-Slowly and silently, the boys walked down the gangway to where their

-dinghy lay like a turtle, unharmed. They anxiously scanned the bay on

-all sides, searching for a mast that might be theirs, but to no avail.

-Then Jerry straightened up and clapped Sandy on the shoulder.

-

-“Come on,” he said. “There’s no use standing here moping. The only thing

-to do now is to take out the dinghy and start to hunt.”

-

-They launched the dinghy, put out the stubby oars, and rowed away from

-the float.

-

-“Where do we look first?” Sandy asked.

-

-“We’ll just go the way the wind went,” Jerry said. “Luckily, the storm

-came from the mainland and blew out to sea. That means there’s a good

-chance that the boat didn’t pile up on the shore. Of course, there are a

-lot of islands out there, and plenty of rocks, but there’s a lot more

-open water. With any luck we’ll find her floating safe and sound,

-somewhere out in the bay. I don’t think she could have gone too far

-dragging that anchor.”

-

-They headed down the channel, taking occasional side excursions around

-some of the small islands whenever they saw, on the other side, a mast

-that could be theirs. But none of the boats they found was the right

-one. The hot sun made rowing even the light cockleshell of the dinghy

-unpleasant work. Sandy paused at the oars and pushed back his cowlick,

-then wiped his perspiring brow. He was beginning to fear that he would

-never again see his trim new sloop—unless he was to see it lying

-shattered on one of these rocky islands. Then, with dogged

-determination, he picked up his oars once more and bent his back to the

-task of rowing.

-

-Once or twice they asked passing sailors if they had seen an unattended

-sloop out of the mooring areas, but though everyone offered sympathy and

-promised to help if they happened to see it, none had any information to

-offer.

-

-The morning wore on slowly as Sandy and Jerry pulled farther and farther

-away from the mainland, exploring every possible hiding place the bay

-had to offer.

-

-By noon, Sandy’s spirits were at low ebb, and he was beginning to wonder

-how he would tell his Uncle Russ the bad news. Then, almost tipping the

-unsteady dinghy, Jerry half rose from his seat and pointed. “Look!” he

-shouted. “Over there! I think that’s her! And will you look at where she

-drifted to!”

-

-Sandy dropped the oars and turned to look at the small white sloop with

-the green decks that lay quietly bobbing at anchor just outside the

-entrance of the cove where, yesterday, they had been welcomed by a gun!

-

-“Of all places to drift to,” he gasped. “It’s a darn good thing she

-didn’t drift inside his cove, or she might be shot full of holes by

-now!”

-

-Then, with a lighter heart than he had felt all morning, Sandy picked up

-the oars and sent the dinghy fairly flying to the side of the trim

-sloop.

-

-“From now on,” he said, “sleeping bags and air mattresses or not, we’re

-sleeping on board until we get a permanent mooring for this boat near

-home!” Relieved and happy, Sandy climbed on board as Jerry tied the

-dinghy to the stern.

-

-“I’ll go below to get the sails out,” Sandy said, “while you unship the

-boom and get the rigging ready.”

-

-He opened the hatch cover and slid back the doors, then stepped down

-into the little cabin. As he started forward to the sail lockers, he had

-a sudden, odd feeling that something was wrong, something out of place;

-a strange notion that he had seen, out of the corner of his eye,

-something that was not what it should have been.

-

-Pausing to look around, he saw what had bothered him. Clamped to the

-bulkhead over the port bunk was a large, oddly shaped brass pistol, like

-the kind he had always imagined the old-time pirates carried. He had

-never seen anything like it before—and he was almost positive that it

-had not been there yesterday!

-

-“Jerry!” he called, sticking his head out of the hatch. “Come here! I

-want you to see something and tell me what you think.” As Jerry poked

-his head into the cabin, Sandy gestured at the brass pistol. “Was that

-thing here yesterday, or have we gotten into somebody else’s boat?”

-

-Jerry brought his dark brows together in a frown and scratched his

-crew-cut head. “I don’t think it was here. I probably would have noticed

-it. But maybe we just didn’t see it. We were so busy with other things.”

-

-“But why would Uncle Russ have left a pistol on board?” Sandy asked,

-puzzled.

-

-“He probably wouldn’t have,” Jerry said. “But he might have left one of

-these. That’s a flare gun, not a regular pistol at all. You use it as a

-signal of distress. It shoots a rocket. Still ... I don’t remember

-seeing it. And I know that your uncle didn’t mention leaving one.”

-

-“Well, I don’t know whether he did or not,” Sandy said, “but we’d better

-make sure this is our boat before we go sailing it off. If it belongs to

-that guy on the island, we could get into some pretty bad trouble if we

-took it by mistake!”

-

-As they looked for some identifying marks, an idea suddenly occurred to

-Sandy. “Maybe this isn’t our boat, but one just like it, and maybe the

-man with the gun was expecting it with somebody else on board! That

-might explain his actions!”

-

-“That makes sense,” Jerry said. “And in that case, we’d better find out

-fast if it’s ours. Look—our boat didn’t have any name on it, and most

-boats do. If this has a name, we’ll know.” He hurried to the stern to

-see, and then to the bow, where some boat owners fasten name plates, but

-none was to be seen.

-

-“That doesn’t prove anything, though,” Sandy said. “But I have an idea.

-Let’s look in the food locker. I remember pretty well what was in there

-yesterday, and I doubt if two boats would have the identical food

-supplies. One look should tell us.” He reached above the galley stove

-and slid back the doors of the locker, then stepped backward as if he

-had been hit.

-

-“It’s sure not our boat,” Sandy said in hushed tones, for in the locker

-there was no food at all. Instead, where food should have been, was what

-appeared to be a fortune in fresh, green money!

-

-

-

-

-                             CHAPTER SEVEN

-                  A Million Dollars’ Worth of Trouble

-

-

-Sandy and Jerry, stunned for the moment, stood in silence, gazing at the

-neatly wrapped stacks of tens, twenties, fifties, hundreds and

-five-hundred-dollar bills—more money than either of them had ever

-dreamed of!

-

-“I don’t know whose boat this is,” Sandy said, “but whoever he is, he

-can sure afford a larger one!”

-

-Awed by the sight of the money, Jerry reached out and slipped a

-five-hundred-dollar bill from its wrapper. “I just want to look at it

-for a minute,” he said. “I’ve never seen a five-hundred before!”

-

-Sandy joined him to look at the crisp bill. “Neither have I,” he said.

-Then, stooping to look closer, he took the bill from Jerry’s hand and

-examined it with the most intense interest.

-

-“Jerry!” he said, almost in a whisper. “I think we’ve found more than a

-stack of money in a peculiar place! I may be mistaken, but I think this

-thing is counterfeit!”

-

-“Counterfeit!” Jerry said, with a gasp. “How can you tell, if you never

-saw a five-hundred-dollar bill before?”

-

-“Come on over into the sunlight where we can see better,” Sandy replied,

-“and I’ll show you what I mean.” They moved to the rear of the little

-cabin, where the sun poured in through the open hatchway cover. Sandy

-held the money up to the light.

-

-“Look at the corners,” he said, pointing to the lower right-hand corner

-of the bill. “You see all those fine hair lines that make the looping,

-criss-cross pattern you see on all paper money? Well, I read once that

-those loops and swirls are the hardest part of a bill to counterfeit,

-and if you’re on the lookout for phony money you should always look

-there first. Ones or one-thousands, they’re all very complicated to

-engrave. On a genuine bill the lines are sharp and clear. On a

-counterfeit, they’re usually a little fuzzy, especially where two lines

-cross. Look over here, right next to the five-hundred-dollar mark, for

-instance.”

-

-He pointed to where a complicated series of fine lines that came

-together had made a small smear, instead of a sharp, well-defined

-pattern.

-

-“You’d never find sloppy work like that on a genuine government bill,”

-Sandy said, pointing to this and to another telltale spot his sharp eyes

-had uncovered.

-

-“I see what you mean,” Jerry said. “Boy, there must be more than a

-million dollars’ worth of this useless stuff in that food locker!”

-

-“It’s not so useless to someone,” Sandy returned. “Whoever made this

-stuff and is responsible for it is sure making real money out of it in

-the end—and an awful lot of real money, too!”

-

-Jerry nodded thoughtfully, then said, “Where do you suppose it’s coming

-from?”

-

-“That shouldn’t be too hard to figure out,” Sandy answered. “That man on

-the island was pretty nervous about having any unexpected guests, I’d

-say. I’ll bet you this whole stack of money that he’s behind the whole

-thing, and that this is his boat that we’re on!”

-

-“You must be right,” Jerry said. “From the way that he came racing down

-that path with his gun yesterday, he must have been watching us all

-along, yet he didn’t come to stop us until we had dropped our anchor,

-lowered our sails, and were halfway in to shore in the dinghy! We should

-have realized when he didn’t stop us sooner what that meant. It meant

-that something funny was going on here!”

-

-“That’s right!” Sandy agreed. “He must have been expecting somebody else

-to come along in this boat—the same class and colors as ours—and he

-thought that we were whoever he was expecting—until he saw us in the

-dinghy! That’s why he was acting so confused and excited that he didn’t

-know whether to shoot at us, or to be nice and let us get our water and

-be on our way. We really caught him off guard!”

-

-“Right,” Jerry said. “And now we’ve confused the boats the same way he

-did, and we’ve caught him off guard again!”

-

-Sandy sat looking silently at the counterfeit five-hundred-dollar bill,

-frowning. Then he looked up at his friend and said, “The question now

-is, what are we going to do about it? We’re pretty lucky that we weren’t

-seen coming on board this boat, but do you think our luck is going to

-last? I’m worried that we won’t be able to get away from here again

-without being seen.”

-

-“We haven’t got much choice in the matter, have we?” Jerry answered.

-“The longer we stay here, the worse our chances will be. There’s no

-telling when the man with the gun or somebody else will come out here to

-do something with this money, and if they find us here....”

-

-“I’d sure hate to cross that fellow,” Sandy agreed. “I don’t like the

-way he handles that rifle of his. He looks too darn ready to use it!”

-

-Stuffing the counterfeit five-hundred-dollar bill into his pocket, Sandy

-stood up. “We’d better get going now, while we still have a chance,” he

-said. “The only thing to do now is to get this bill to the police as

-evidence of what we’ve found, and to put them on to this island.”

-

-Sandy started up from the cabin but, as his head emerged from the

-hatchway, he stopped dead in his tracks, for floating in a dinghy just a

-few feet away was the mysterious owner of the island accompanied by two

-tough-looking sailors! Sandy looked in dismay from their three faces to

-the muzzles of three guns pointed directly at him!

-

-It was not a pleasant smile that the man from the island gave him as he

-said, “Well! This is quite a surprise for all of us, isn’t it? Are you

-still looking for water? Or do you have a better story to entertain me

-with today?”

-

-

-

-

-                             CHAPTER EIGHT

-                            Double Blackout

-

-

-Sandy tried his hardest to look unknowing and innocent, and at the same

-time shocked and outraged. With the three guns aimed at him, it was not

-an easy job.

-

-“What’s the idea?” he exclaimed. “I’ve never seen anybody so ready with

-a gun as you are! We were only looking for our boat. You know it looks

-the same as yours. We thought for a while that this was it, but....”

-

-“But you found out, after some thorough snooping, that it wasn’t, didn’t

-you?” the man sneered. “Of course you did. It’s my boat, all right! And

-you’re trespassing on it! And this is my island too, and you were

-trespassing there yesterday! And if I were to shoot you, I would be

-perfectly within my rights as a landowner!”

-

-Sandy tried with difficulty to smile reassuringly. “Take it easy,

-mister,” he said. “Honestly, we were just looking for our boat. It

-dragged anchor in the storm last night, and when we saw yours we made a

-natural mistake and thought it was ours. Okay, it isn’t. We made a

-mistake, that’s all. Now if you’ll just let us apologize, we’ll get off

-your private property and go looking again.”

-

-But the man didn’t show the slightest intention of even moving his rifle

-from the ready, much less of letting the boys go.

-

-“Of course you’ll go looking again,” he said. “Looking for what you were

-looking for yesterday and today. Oh, no! I hardly think I can let you

-go!” Then he smiled his peculiar smile again. “What’s more,” he added,

-“even if I were to let you go, I would first have to ask you to return

-the money you stole—the money I see sticking out of your pocket!”

-

-Sandy’s heart sank. There was nothing he could think of to say now, and

-he could see no way out of the situation. He sank wearily to a seat in

-the cockpit and sighed.

-

-“I guess we can both stop play-acting about this trespassing thing,” he

-said. He pulled the telltale bill out of his pocket and threw it on the

-deck. “This is what you’ve been so upset about all along, isn’t it?”

-

-“You’re a very bright boy,” the man with the gun said. “Far too bright,

-I’m afraid. You have this whole thing figured out already, haven’t you?”

-

-“Most of it,” Sandy admitted. “At least the parts that count. You’re

-using this island to make counterfeit money, and you’re using this

-sailboat to take it somewhere. That’s about all I know, but it’s enough

-to get you in trouble, isn’t it, Mr.—?”

-

-“Jones is the name,” the man said. “Yes, I would say it was quite

-enough. The only mistake you’ve made is your conclusion. What you know

-is enough to get _you_ in trouble—not me. In fact, I should hate to be

-in as much trouble as you two boys are in right now!” Jones put down his

-rifle for a moment and said, “Do you mind if I come on board my boat so

-that we can discuss your difficulties in more comfort?”

-

-Jones stepped out of the dinghy to the deck of the little sloop and

-settled himself comfortably in the stern seat while his two silent

-crewmen kept Sandy covered. When he was set, with his ever-present rifle

-held at ready across his knees, he was followed on board by the larger

-and meaner looking of the two sailors, who stationed himself beside

-Jones.

-

-“Oh, yes,” Jones repeated, “I should say that what you know is quite

-enough! And, since you already have too much information to ever let you

-leave here with, I’ll be happy to satisfy your immense curiosity by

-giving you a little more. But why not have your friend join us on deck?”

-

-When Jerry had come up from the cabin and was sitting beside Sandy,

-Jones cleared his throat, as if he were about to give a formal speech.

-

-“As far as you went in your thinking, you are most certainly right,” he

-said. “I use this boat to transport counterfeit money which I make on my

-island. I take it to a waiting freighter that meets me five miles off

-shore—well beyond the legal jurisdiction of the United States

-government, in international waters. The freighter takes my pretty

-counterfeit money and disposes of it in foreign markets, where I get a

-good price for it, and where not every bright and nosy boy is out to

-make a nuisance of himself.”

-

-Then, once again, Jones smiled his peculiar and unpleasant smile. “I

-find the foreign markets most useful for disposing of items which are

-too difficult to get rid of here. I expect that you will not be much

-harder to dispose of than this money, when you are beyond the limits of

-U.S. waters!”

-

-Sandy looked at Jerry in silence, desperately hoping his friend would

-come up with some flash of inspiration—some idea—which would help them

-to get out of this situation. But Jerry was no help. For that matter,

-Sandy reflected, he was not much help himself. But as long as he kept

-“Jones” talking, he’d get some more information and meanwhile, perhaps,

-he or Jerry might think of something.

-

-“There’s only one thing that has me puzzled in all this,” Sandy said

-therefore. “Why did you leave this boat full of money floating around

-outside of the cove?”

-

-Jones laughed. “There you have the full essence of our little comedy of

-errors,” he said. “Last night’s storm probably tore more than one

-hundred boats loose from their anchorages and moorings. Yours, I assure

-you, wasn’t the only one that drifted a good distance, and neither was

-mine!”

-

-“Yours?” Jerry gasped. “You mean that our boat _did_ drift over this

-way? And that you—?”

-

-“I think you understand,” Jones replied. “But it wasn’t I. It was these

-stupid fools who work for me. They had loaded the money on board the

-boat last night before the storm. Then, when it blew up, we knew that it

-was impossible to sail to the freighter until the storm had passed. They

-failed to take the money out of the boat for the night, trusting to luck

-that nothing would go wrong. But something did go wrong! My boat broke

-loose and floated out around the point to where it is now. Your boat

-drifted up to the entrance of my cove. When they came out this morning,

-my assistants saw your boat, and did not see mine.”

-

-Jones laughed a short, sharp laugh. “They actually sailed your sloop

-five miles out to the freighter! Of course they discovered their mistake

-when they opened the money locker and found it full of canned food!”

-

-He looked at the sailors with disgust, then continued. “When they

-realized their error, they promptly sailed back here, but by that time

-you had found my boat and assumed it to be yours. When they told me

-their story, I guessed at once what had happened and went to correct the

-mistake before you found out about our little business. If you had only

-come a half hour later, you would have found your own boat and sailed it

-off in perfect safety. Unfortunately for you, you were just a little too

-soon.”

-

-“As long as you’re telling us the whole story,” Jerry said, “will you

-answer a question for me? I don’t understand why you bother with

-sailboats, when a power boat could do the job so much faster.”

-

-“That’s a fair question,” Jones said. “You _are_ smart boys, aren’t you?

-Well, I pride myself on using my brains, too. I use this

-innocent-looking sloop for several reasons, one of which caused this

-whole ridiculous mix-up. For one thing, an individual member of a

-popular class of sailboat is very hard for the casual observer to

-identify. This we have both seen to be true. For another thing, everyone

-thinks of a sailboat as being merely a pleasure craft, and would never

-suspect it of anything illegal. It can go in and out of the harbor on a

-regular schedule and nobody will notice it or even realize it’s the same

-boat they are seeing. Third, all power boats have to be registered and

-licensed by the Coast Guard, while a sailboat is so anonymous that it

-doesn’t even have to have a name. Fourth, it gives me a reason to live

-on this island. To the people who stop to think of me, if they think of

-me at all, I am a retired gentleman whose principal hobby is sailing,

-and who lives on an island in order to get the most enjoyment out of the

-sport.”

-

-Again Jones smiled, and Sandy shivered. “It’s quite a neat setup, don’t

-you agree?” Jones said. “And, with the same neatness that is a part of

-my way of life, I am now going to put an end to this whole unpleasant

-interruption.”

-

-Suddenly dropping his lazy conversational manner, Jones sat upright and

-pointed his rifle at Sandy. Not moving his eyes from the boys, he spoke

-to the sailor who was still standing silent by his side. “We’ll have to

-take them out to the freighter now. There’s nothing else to do. I’ll

-decide what to do with them later on. You and Turk sail this boat and

-I’ll follow in theirs. Lock them below,” he added, nodding toward Sandy

-and Jerry.

-

-For the first time since they had seen him, the sailor spoke. “Okay,” he

-said. “We won’t mess it up this time.” Then, this being apparently the

-longest speech of which he was capable, he shut his mouth into a thin,

-hard line, and moved heavily to the boys.

-

-Using his pistol as a goad, he poked Sandy in the ribs and motioned him

-to go below. As Sandy started to take his first step down into the

-cabin, the sailor shoved him roughly and sent him sprawling onto the

-deck below. His head spinning, Sandy looked up to see the giant sailor

-towering above him. He was conscious of an odd noise, like a strangled,

-slow sobbing, far away. What was it? He had never heard such an ugly

-sound in his life....

-

-Then, as his head cleared, he realized what it was that he was hearing.

-The sailor was laughing!

-

-Afterward, Sandy was unable to explain why the strange laughing sound,

-and the sight of the warped expression that only faintly resembled a

-smile, should have made him behave as he did. An uncontrollable fury

-filled him and he jumped to his feet with a headlong rush!

-

-Caught off guard by Sandy’s sudden attack, the sailor made a clumsy move

-to sidestep, but not before Sandy’s swing had caught him a terrific blow

-in the ribs. All of Sandy’s six feet of wiry muscle went into the blow,

-and the sailor reeled back, staggering.

-

-Sandy followed him into the cockpit to take advantage of the surprise

-attack, just in time to see Jones bring down the barrel of his rifle

-sharply on Jerry’s head. Sandy whirled to face Jones as Jerry dropped to

-the deck.

-

-He started forward, cocking his fist to lash out before Jones could

-raise his rifle again, but suddenly, with a sound like a bat striking a

-ball, a blinding light seemed to explode in his face. This first

-sensation was followed by a dull roaring sound and a spreading pool of

-inky blackness. He felt his knees buckle....

-

-Somewhere, from afar, he heard Jones speaking in bored tones.

-

-“Bull,” he was saying, almost lazily, “you know how I dislike

-unnecessary violence in any form. If you hadn’t shoved the boy, this

-little scene would never—”

-

-And that was the last Sandy was to hear for quite a while.

-

-

-

-

-                              CHAPTER NINE

-                            To the Freighter

-

-

-When Sandy came to, the first thing he was aware of was a terrific

-headache. This was accompanied by such severe dizziness that when he

-tried to sit up he sank back immediately, holding his head. Gingerly, he

-ran his hand over his skull as if to make sure that it was still all in

-one piece. Then he lay still for a while, afraid to try moving anything

-else, and looked at the ceiling above him.

-

-Slowly, the dizziness ebbed away and the pain lurking behind his eyes

-settled down to a more bearable level. When he felt it was safe to try,

-he moved more cautiously than the first time, sat up and swung his long

-legs over the edge of the bunk.

-

-For a moment, he simply sat there with his elbows on his knees and his

-head propped in his hands, and looked at the decking. He had to think

-hard, as if he were remembering a dream that was fast fading away. Why

-was he in this bunk below? How was Jerry handling the boat alone? He

-frowned, pushed back his cowlick and raised his head.

-

-As he did so, he caught sight of the brass flare gun clipped to its

-bracket on the opposite bulkhead, and suddenly he remembered everything

-that had happened. Of course! This was not his boat at all, and Jerry

-wasn’t sailing it alone—or in any other way, for that matter!

-

-Jerry lay on the opposite bunk below the flare gun, propped up on one

-elbow and looking at him with a grin.

-

-“I guess it isn’t funny,” he said, “but you sure took an awful long time

-to wake up and figure out what had happened to you! I’ve been lying here

-awake for five minutes now, just watching you come up from under!”

-Ruefully rubbing a hand across his black crew-cut, he added, “I guess I

-must have taken the same length of time doing it when I woke up, but

-there wasn’t anybody here to time me!”

-

-“I saw Jones hit you,” Sandy said, “and he sure wasn’t making any

-special effort to be gentle. I guess that Bull, the big sailor, got me

-from behind when I turned to go after Jones.”

-

-Still rubbing his head, Jerry sat up in his bunk and faced his friend.

-“Sandy,” he asked, “what made you take a swing at Bull like that? You

-sure must have known that the two of us didn’t stand much of a chance in

-a fight against three men with guns!”

-

-“I don’t suppose I was really thinking at all,” Sandy answered. “I know

-it was a pretty foolish thing to do, but there was just something about

-Bull’s laugh.... Anyway, I’m sorry. It could have got us killed right

-then and there, I guess. As it is, I think we’re lucky to have got away

-with nothing more than a couple of headaches.”

-

-“What do you mean, a couple?” Jerry said. “I’ve got two myself!”

-

-Both boys laughed, but as their laughter died down, they became more

-serious than they had been before.

-

-“Look, we can sit here and make jokes about the situation until they get

-us out to that freighter,” Sandy said, “but that isn’t going to help us

-to figure out a way to escape and get to the police.”

-

-“You’re perfectly right,” Jerry agreed. “We’d better scout around and

-size things up while we’ve got a chance.”

-

-“And we’d better do it fast,” Sandy added. “We don’t know how long we’ve

-been knocked out, so we haven’t any idea how much time we have left

-before we arrive at the freighter. And by then, it might very well be

-too late to do anything for ourselves at all.”

-

-Half rising from their bunks, for the cabin roof was too low to allow

-them full standing headroom, they moved aft to the sliding doors that

-separated them from the cockpit. Gently testing the doors, Sandy found

-that they were locked, as he had assumed they would be. A crack of light

-showed where the two halves of the door met, and he placed his eye to

-it. With a frown, he turned around to look at Jerry.

-

-“Boy, they’re not taking any chances this time,” he whispered. “Both of

-the sailors are out there in the cockpit, and the one called Turk has

-his pistol in his hand, and it’s pointed right at this door!”

-

-Moving back to the bunks, Sandy and Jerry knelt to look through the

-small windows above them. On both sides of the sloop, there was nothing

-to see but water—not so much as a buoy or another boat in sight. Far off

-to the starboard side, they made out a low smudge that was the shore.

-

-“We must be almost there!” Sandy said.

-

-“Do you think there’s any use trying the forward hatch?” asked Jerry.

-“Or do you suppose that they have that one locked tight, too?”

-

-“I don’t know if it matters much one way or the other,” Sandy sighed.

-“Even if it is open, I wouldn’t care to stick my head out—not with Turk

-sitting back there with his pistol ready! I think I’ve had enough of

-rushing into pistols for one day!” Putting his hand to his head, he felt

-the lump that was forming above his right ear.

-

-Moving with the most extreme caution, so as to attract no attention from

-their guards, they started to explore the cabin for whatever

-possibilities it had to offer. Coming to the two tiny forward portholes,

-barely large enough to put a hand through, Sandy paused to take a look

-forward.

-

-Before their bow, perhaps fifty yards away, was a boat sailing calmly

-along as if the whole world were on a holiday. For one short instant,

-Sandy thought that this might be their chance—perhaps a signal with the

-flare gun might bring aid from the passing sailor! But his hopes were

-shattered in no time as he realized that the sloop sailing ahead was his

-own, sailed by Jones who was leading the way to the freighter that

-waited, like doom, not far off.

-

-Even in his hopelessness, Sandy could not help pausing to admire his

-boat, graceful and trim, making good time beating into a steady breeze.

-He thought for a moment of the preceding day when he had learned to take

-the tiller and had first felt the happy pride of ownership and

-accomplishment that comes to every boat owner. What a change in fortunes

-this new day had brought! Now his boat was no longer his and, instead of

-carrying him to pleasure, was leading him to what looked like certain

-disaster!

-

-As he watched, his boat suddenly put about on a new tack. He saw Jones

-skillfully handling both the tiller and the sheets. The jib was swiftly

-brought over to fill and, together with the mainsail, was trimmed and

-drawing in no time. Whatever else you could say about Jones, Sandy

-thought, the man sure knew how to handle a boat!

-

-The new tack set by Jones was followed by their sailor-guards. With a

-creak of tackle and rigging and a shifting of weight to the opposite

-side, the little sloop came about. Still at his lookout post at the

-forward port, Sandy saw the head of the boat swing about. As it did so,

-he caught sight of their destination.

-

-“Jerry! Look!” he whispered, motioning his friend to join him at the

-other porthole. There, high in the water, perhaps a mile away, was the

-dark shape of the freighter. Wisps of gray-white smoke curled from its

-stack and drifted off in the breeze. It was an ordinary-looking freight

-cargo ship, such as you would see in any port of the world. It had a

-black hull, a white deckhouse and a black stack marked with green

-stripes. All perfectly ordinary, perhaps, but to Sandy and Jerry it

-looked sinister and piratical. They stared at it for a few minutes,

-trying to judge their rate of progress from the lessening distance

-between themselves and the black-hulled ship. Then Sandy tore himself

-away from the porthole and grabbed Jerry’s arm.

-

-“Jerry, we’ve got to start acting fast,” he said. “There’s hardly any

-time left!”

-

-“Act how?” Jerry said. “What can we do but sit here and wait like a

-couple of chickens in a crate being taken to market? If you can think of

-anything to do, I’m game, but I haven’t got an idea in my head.”

-

-“I don’t think there’s anything we can do about the situation now,”

-Sandy said, “but I have an idea that might work later on. It may not be

-worth much, but anything’s worth trying.” He cast his eyes about the

-small cabin.

-

-“Did you by any chance come across a first-aid kit while you were

-searching?” he asked.

-

-“Yes, I did,” Jerry answered. “It’s in that locker next to the money.

-But what do you want it for?”

-

-“Bring it over and I’ll show you,” Sandy answered.

-

-While Jerry went for the first-aid kit, Sandy took the brass flare

-pistol from its bracket above the bunk. Then he sat down on the bunk and

-rolled up his pants leg. “Here,” he said. “Give me some tape. I’m going

-to strap this bulky thing to my leg if we have enough.”

-

-“What for?” Jerry asked in surprise. “It’s not a real gun, you know. All

-it does is fire a flare. Besides, there’s only one flare in here, and I

-don’t know if that can do us very much good.”

-

-“I don’t care about the flares,” Sandy answered. “It’s the gun itself

-that I’m interested in. It fooled me when I saw it and it just might

-possibly fool someone else who might not be familiar with these things.

-I’m hoping that if we get a chance to pull it on someone after dark, we

-can fool him long enough to get hold of a real gun that will help us

-escape!”

-

-“That’s not a bad idea,” Jerry admitted. “That is, if we’re still alive

-by dark!”

-

-“That’s about all I’m hoping for now,” Sandy answered. “I don’t know

-whether we can do any good with this flare gun or not, but it’s pretty

-clear that we can’t escape from _this_ boat. So I’m doing what I can to

-let us be able to take advantage of any chance we get on board the

-freighter. If we’re lucky enough to _get_ a chance.”

-

-As he spoke, Sandy was fastening the bulky flare pistol to the inside of

-his calf, making it as secure as he could with the tape from the

-first-aid kit. Finished at last, he stood up as well as he could in the

-low-ceilinged cabin, and tried to walk around.

-

-“Does it show too much?” he asked Jerry, shaking his leg a little.

-

-“It shows,” Jerry said, without much encouragement. “But maybe if you

-move around carefully, and if they don’t take a sudden interest in your

-legs, you might get away with it. Anyway, what can we lose by trying?”

-

-Sandy looked down at the bulge which so obviously distorted the leg of

-his blue jeans. He was afraid that he would never get away with it. He

-remembered the bell-bottom pants that the Navy enlisted men wear and

-that all sailors once wore, and he wondered if their original purpose

-had been to carry concealed weapons. Whatever they were for, he sure

-wished he were wearing a pair now!

-

-“I guess this is about as good as we can get it,” Sandy said. “If one of

-us only had a jacket on, we could probably hide the gun under an arm,

-but these sweat shirts just don’t leave enough room.”

-

-“No, I think the leg is a better place anyway,” Jerry said. “If they

-search us for weapons, they’re apt to miss your leg, but they’d never

-miss patting you under the arm. Anyway, we don’t have a jacket, and as

-far as I can see there’s no place else to hide the thing.”

-

-The boys took a last look around the cabin to see if there was anything

-else to help them, but there was not even a small kitchen knife or a can

-opener in the little galley. It seemed that Mr. Jones kept only

-counterfeit money in that area. As they were carefully exploring every

-possible nook and cranny in the cabin, they felt the sloop heel to the

-other side as it once more came about to go on a new tack.

-

-From the vantage point of the two forward ports they saw the reason for

-this latest maneuver. They were coming up to the wind alongside the

-freighter, preparing to stop. The high sides of the big ship loomed

-above them like the walls of a fortress, but chipped and scarred with

-streaks of rust. As the sloop swung completely into the wind, losing

-headway, they caught sight of Jones making a line fast to the bow of

-Sandy’s boat. Then, with a rattle of slides and a clumping of heavy

-steps on the cabin roof overhead, the counterfeiters’ craft came to a

-halt and was made fast alongside the freighter.

-

-Whatever was to happen, it would happen now!

-

-

-

-

-                              CHAPTER TEN

-                       Aboard the Floating Prison

-

-

-Moving away from the forward portholes, Sandy and Jerry sat on the edges

-of the bunks and waited for their captors to come and get them. Both

-boys made themselves look as if they were completely dejected—as if they

-had already given up any hopes they might have had of escaping or of

-being rescued.

-

-In a few minutes the footsteps on the deck and cabin top stopped and the

-little craft lay bobbing and wallowing in the sea swell that rose and

-fell alongside the freighter.

-

-Rope bumpers, large braided lengths of thick cordage, were lashed to the

-sides of the sloop to keep it from being damaged by rubbing and banging

-against the steel side of the big ship.

-

-Although they were listening as closely as possible to everything that

-went on, they could not make out the words they heard shouted from the

-freighter’s deck far above. Nevertheless, the sense of them was made

-clear by the answer that Turk bellowed back.

-

-“Yeah! we got the stuff this time, all right! And we got a couple of

-other pieces of cargo with us, too! Wait and we’ll show you!”

-

-This was the moment, Sandy thought. He would have to be careful, he

-warned himself, not to lose his temper as he had done last time, even if

-he was roughed up and shoved around again. And above all, he must be

-careful about the way he moved. One false step would surely outline the

-telltale shape of the flare gun taped to his leg—and that would be the

-end of the only “weapon” that he and Jerry had! Not only that, but it

-might well be the end of the only chance they would have to get away

-with whole skins!

-

-A bolt grated in its slide on the companionway door and the hatch slid

-open to reveal Turk, pistol in hand, grinning nastily at them.

-

-“Okay, gents,” he said. “The first-class passage on the local ferry is

-over. Just step up on deck, and we’ll transfer to the next vessel.”

-

-As Sandy reached the companionway steps, Turk reached down and grabbed

-him by the neck of his shirt. With a swift heave, he sent Sandy

-sprawling on the cockpit deck. Keeping a tight control on his temper,

-Sandy confined his thoughts to worrying about getting his leg tucked

-under him in such a position that the flare pistol wouldn’t show.

-

-But he need not have worried, for Turk was too busy enjoying himself

-giving the same treatment to Jerry, who came flying out of the cabin to

-land heavily on the deck alongside Sandy.

-

-“These boys sure play a lot of rough games,” he murmured. “And I’m

-afraid that this is only the beginning of a whole world’s series!”

-

-“Take it easy,” Sandy whispered to his friend. “Let’s just go along with

-them quietly. Maybe we can keep in one piece until we have a chance to

-figure a way out.”

-

-At Turk’s orders, they rose to their feet. Looking up to the freighter’s

-deck high above them, they saw the other sailor, Bull, already on board,

-at the top of a long rope ladder. He too had his pistol held ready, and

-the expression on his face gave every indication that he would be only

-too glad to use it if he were given even half an excuse to do so.

-

-“Get up that ladder,” Turk ordered, “and don’t try nothing funny. We’ll

-have you covered all the way.” He waved his pistol at Jerry to indicate

-that he wanted him to go up the ladder first.

-

-Sandy’s heart seemed to sink in his chest. The order of climbing was all

-wrong—it couldn’t be wronger! Jerry first, himself next, and Turk last!

-Surely Turk, if he was below him looking up as he climbed, couldn’t fail

-to notice the flare pistol taped to Sandy’s leg!

-

-Acting as if he misunderstood Turk’s wordless command, Sandy stepped

-forward and grabbed the rope ladder, but the sailor’s big hand gripped

-him by the shoulder hard and firmly pulled him back.

-

-“You sure are eager, ain’t ya, kid? And you’re tricky, too. Now why did

-you want to go up that ladder first? That ain’t no picnic or party up

-there!” He screwed his big face into a frown of deep thought. Apparently

-unable to reach a decision, he undid his thinking expression and snarled

-at Sandy. “Just stop thinkin’ up tricks, see! You let me do the thinkin’

-here! Now, you go on first, the way I told ya!” He pushed Jerry toward

-the ladder.

-

-Resigned to having his flare gun discovered, and almost resigned to

-whatever would happen next, Sandy moved to the ladder to take his turn,

-when once more the big hand of Turk pulled him back. “I told you I’d do

-the thinkin’!” Turk said. “I don’t know what you got up your sleeve, but

-whatever it is, you’d better forget it. I’m goin’ up next!”

-

-At last, here was a turn of luck! Sandy could hardly keep from grinning

-as Turk started to mount the rope ladder. The big sailor swung up

-easily, keeping his eyes always turned downward to Sandy. Halfway up, he

-stopped.

-

-“Come on, now,” he said. “You won’t be able to play no tricks this way.

-You’re too far back for any leg grabbing, and I got this gun aimed right

-at the top of your head. Now come on up, and come slow!”

-

-Sandy stepped from the deck of the sloop to the lower rungs of the rope

-ladder and did as he was told, moving his “gun leg” as carefully as he

-could without running the risk of attracting any attention to it. At

-least, he thought with some satisfaction, he had gotten over the first

-hurdle!

-

-On the deck of the freighter, the boys were met by Jones, Bull, and a

-mean-looking crew of some of the dirtiest men they had ever seen. The

-freighter itself was none too clean, with paint scaling from the decks

-and splotches of grease covering the cargo-handling winches and other

-deck machinery. The white deckhouse, seen from close quarters, was a

-dingy and spotted gray, and the portholes were streaked with dirt and

-dried salt.

-

-In the midst of a rat’s nest of coiled ropes, fraying cables and other

-ship’s debris, Jones sat on an overturned crate as if it were an easy

-chair. He seemed perfectly at ease and completely out of place at the

-same time, his smart sports clothes and yachting cap making an odd

-contrast to the mixed clothing of the freighter’s crew.

-

-Despite his air of being a gentleman of leisure, Jones had his rifle

-still with him, lying across his knees, and his long fingers played

-restlessly with the safety catch and the trigger.

-

-“Gentlemen,” he smiled. “Welcome aboard. I hope you will find our modest

-accommodations suitable for your long journey. The Captain will arrive

-in a moment, and I am sure that he will do whatever is in his power to

-see to it that you are treated—appropriately.” Still smiling, he turned

-to Bull and said, “Bull, see to it that our passengers aren’t carrying

-any unnecessary luggage.”

-

-Bull looked puzzled. “I don’t getcha,” he mumbled.

-

-Jones rose with a swift movement, his smile turned at once to ice. “If

-you weren’t such a stupid lout, perhaps you’d get me the first time I

-speak to you! If you weren’t such a stupid lout, we wouldn’t have had

-these boys here with us in the first place.”

-

-He moved forward as if to strike the cowering Bull, but stopped and

-regained control over himself. Once more, he put on his bland smile.

-

-“Pardon my temper and my little jokes, Bull,” he said. “What I meant by

-‘unnecessary luggage’ was concealed weapons. In other words, frisk

-them.”

-

-Bull shook his head and said, “Why’ntcha say so inna first place?” and

-started toward Jerry and Sandy.

-

-Once again Sandy tensed. If only his luck would hold and he could get

-through without having Bull find the flare gun! Otherwise....

-

-He watched as Bull patted Jerry, none too gently. He realized that, if

-Jerry had been wearing a jacket under which to hide the flare gun, it

-would surely have been discovered. Soon Bull was finished with Jerry,

-and it was Sandy’s turn. Bull frisked him quickly and clumsily, patting

-his chest and under his arms, even though it was obvious that he

-couldn’t possibly have hidden anything there. Bull’s big hands continued

-down to Sandy’s pockets, hesitated for a moment, and stopped right

-there. He turned to face Jones.

-

-“They’re clean,” he said.

-

-Jones nodded, not paying too much attention to Bull or to the search. “I

-didn’t think that they would have had the foresight to bring any

-weapons. Still—there’s no sense taking any chances. In this business,

-one can’t be too careful.”

-

-Noticing that Jones was not looking directly at either Bull or

-themselves as he said all this, Sandy followed his gaze to the upper

-decks of the freighter, wondering what he _was_ looking for. A door

-swung open and a man stepped out into the late afternoon sunshine. Jones

-rose, waved to the man and called, “Captain! Come down! We have a little

-surprise for you!”

-

-Sandy had not known what to expect of the captain of such a ship as

-this, but surely, the man who came down the ladder did not look in the

-least like anything he might have imagined! He would not have been

-really surprised by a bearded giant, or another tough, such as one of

-the crew, or even, perhaps, by a turbaned oriental—but this captain was

-surely a complete surprise!

-

-He was a thin, wispy-looking old man—how old, Sandy could not begin to

-guess—with a face like a wise preacher’s or perhaps a college

-professor’s. He was dressed entirely in white, down to his old-fashioned

-white high-buttoned shoes, and he carried a bamboo cane with a gold

-head. To finish off this spotless outfit, so out of keeping with his

-ship, the Captain wore a pith helmet, such as British officers wear in

-the tropics!

-

-The old man moved briskly down the steep ladder from the upper decks

-and, with scarcely a glance at the boys, addressed himself to Jones.

-

-“Who are these children?” he asked, his voice thin and reedy, but

-carrying authority and as sharp as the crack of a whip.

-

-As Jones explained the presence of the boys on board the freighter, the

-Captain looked from them to Jones and back again. When Jones told him

-how Bull and Turk had mistaken Sandy’s sloop for his own, the Captain

-shifted his gaze to the two sailors, who almost winced under his cutting

-stare of scorn. Then, when the tale was done, he devoted his attention

-exclusively to Jones once more.

-

-“What do you want to do about it?” he asked.

-

-“I leave that entirely up to you,” Jones said. “I want no part of any

-violence—if it can be avoided. Besides, you will have them on your

-hands, and I’ll be ashore, so that it’s hardly my place to dictate the

-conditions of their—er—disposal.”

-

-Jones rose, leaning casually on his rifle as if it were a walking stick.

-“Whatever you want to do is all right with me. Just get rid of them,

-that’s all. And do it in a way that won’t attract any suspicions ashore.

-I don’t want anyone poking around the island asking questions about

-them.”

-

-The Captain thought for a minute, then answered, “I don’t think we’ll

-have anyone poking around the island. Not if we handle this thing right.

-They must not, you see, simply disappear. If they just drop out of sight

-without a trace, it will surely bring on a search, and someone may have

-seen them near your place. No, that won’t do. On the contrary, they must

-be found. But they must be found in such a condition that they can

-answer no questions—ever. And it must look natural.”

-

-“Perfect logic,” Jones said. “I agree completely. But how are you going

-to manage it?”

-

-“We will keep them aboard,” the Captain answered, “locked up below. I

-will tow their sloop after us. When we are a satisfactory distance from

-shore—say a thousand miles—we will put them into their boat and cut them

-loose.”

-

-“But,” Jones protested, “isn’t there a chance that they could make it in

-to shore somewhere? Men have managed rougher trips than that in the

-past.”

-

-“Don’t worry about details,” the Captain said in his quiet, scholarly

-voice. “I’ll take care of everything. First, we will drop them far out

-of any regular shipping lanes. In addition, we will first wreck their

-sails, their mast and their rigging as if it had been done by a storm.

-When they are finally found, it will be too late to do anything about

-them. It will just look as if a storm had wrecked them and blown them

-out to sea. It’s a tidy way to operate—no messy violence—and there will

-be no clues to lead to your precious island.”

-

-Jones considered for a minute before answering. “It sounds all right to

-me, if you say so. After all, you know your end of the business better

-than I do.”

-

-“Indeed I do,” the Captain answered calmly.

-

-“Now,” Jones said briskly, dismissing the matter of the boys from his

-mind, “we have my other cargo to discuss before our dealings are

-finished for this trip.”

-

-The Captain held up a thin, white hand to stop Jones. “Not now,” he

-said. “Our business can wait until we have refreshed ourselves and had a

-bit of dinner. Then when it is dark, you can turn over your cargo—if the

-terms are satisfactory—and sail home unobserved.”

-

-He waved his stick at the boys and motioned to two of his crew members.

-“Take them below and lock them in an empty cabin. And set a close watch

-on them.”

-

-As Sandy and Jerry were led off by the two crewmen, they saw the Captain

-precede Jones to the foot of the deckhouse ladder. He paused and bowed,

-indicating that Jones should go first. Somehow, the courtly,

-old-fashioned gesture seemed to Sandy more sinister than anything else

-he had seen since the start of this day.

-

-

-

-

-                             CHAPTER ELEVEN

-                            Escape to Danger

-

-

-Stepping over the high sill of the door that led from the deck to the

-passageway, Sandy and Jerry were plunged at once into gloom and

-near-darkness. The throb of the freighter’s engines, barely noticeable

-on deck, became a roar, and the passage was thick with the smells and

-heat from the engine room below.

-

-They were pushed and shoved along the passage, past a number of doors

-which Sandy presumed were the crew’s quarters. On the other side of the

-passage, an occasional door opened onto the engine room, a great cavern

-of heat and noise, brightly illuminated by lights on all sides, and

-crisscrossed by catwalks and ladders.

-

-Without a word, their guides stopped before a door opposite the main

-opening to the engine room. One of them produced a large key ring and,

-after a moment’s searching for the right key, unlocked the door.

-

-Motioning them to enter, the guard stood aside as Sandy and Jerry

-stepped into the gloom of a small cabin. Then the door slammed behind

-them, the key clicked in the lock, and they were alone. Through the

-ventilating slits cut in the top and bottom of the door, they heard one

-of their captors.

-

-“You take the first watch while I go for chow. I’ll bring the kids

-something to eat when I come back, then you can get yours.” The other

-said something in agreement, and the speaker’s footsteps in the

-passageway were soon drowned out in the roar of the engines.

-

-Sinking to a seat on the bare springs of a bunk with no mattress, Jerry

-looked up at Sandy and asked, “What now?”

-

-“I don’t know,” Sandy admitted. “But at least we got away with the flare

-gun, and we may figure out a way to use it.” He lowered himself to the

-bare bunk opposite the one Jerry occupied, and surveyed their floating

-prison.

-

-The cabin offered very little promise of help. There were the two double

-bunks, both bare of mattresses, four lockers, a sink in one corner and a

-single porthole. Going to the porthole, Sandy tried to open it, but with

-no success. The “dogs” that secured it, heavy steel latches, were welded

-in place, and the glass of the porthole looked too heavy to break.

-Obviously, the place had been used as a prison before. Outside of the

-porthole, there was nothing but the sea. Even if the glass could be

-broken, Sandy didn’t like the idea of dropping down into the black

-waters below. That seemed as unpromising a position as the one they were

-in now!

-

-The lockers were the next subject of their exploration but, as they

-expected, these proved as empty and bare as the cabin itself. The sink,

-the only remaining thing in the room, was the source of no inspiration.

-

-Settling himself on the bunk once more, Sandy began to roll up his pants

-leg. “I guess this flare gun is our only hope at that,” he said. “We

-might as well have it ready.”

-

-He quickly undid the adhesive tape, then stuck the gun in his belt. As

-he did so, an idea came to him.

-

-“Jerry, I think I have it!” he whispered.

-

-The plan was a simple one—almost too simple to work. But it seemed the

-only chance they had. Sandy proposed to wait until the guard came with

-their food, then, threatening him with the flare pistol, they would try

-to overcome him, tie him up, and make their way to the deck. Once there,

-they would have to find a way out. It seemed a slim hope, but what else

-could they do?

-

-Jerry agreed, and whispering quietly, they worked out the best positions

-to take to make their attack good. Meanwhile, one more stroke of good

-fortune came to them. Jerry found that he still had the roll of adhesive

-tape in his pocket, undiscovered in Bull’s quick inspection. It would

-come in handy for binding and gagging the guards, if they could once

-overcome them.

-

-Now there was nothing to do but wait. Through the porthole, they could

-see the sky growing dark, and the gathering gloom in the cabin raised

-their spirits. It was one more bit of aid that might fool their jailer

-into thinking the flare gun was a real weapon. The last glow of day was

-dying on the horizon when they once more heard voices in the passageway.

-

-Jerry took his position by the door while Sandy readied the flare gun,

-then sat on one of the bunks. The door swung open and their guards

-entered, the lead man carrying a tray and his companion behind him.

-

-As they stepped over the sill, Sandy stood up suddenly, upsetting the

-tray. Hot coffee spilled over the lead man, who stepped backward with a

-cry. As he did so, Jerry, from his position behind the door, reached out

-and knocked the second man to the deck. At the same moment, Sandy raised

-his flare gun and aimed.

-

-“All right,” he said. “I have you covered!”

-

-“Do what he says,” one of the sailors said. “Do you see that gun? It’s a

-flare!”

-

-Sandy was startled. If they knew it was not a real pistol, why didn’t

-they charge him? Why were they cowering away? Then he realized for the

-first time that the flare pistol, used as a weapon, must be an awful

-thing. Anything that could send a stream of flame hundreds of feet into

-the air could surely inflict a terrible wound when used against a man.

-He shuddered, knowing he could never use it in this way. But as long as

-the sailors didn’t know it....

-

-It was short work to silence the men with adhesive-tape gags, and to

-tape their hands firmly behind their backs. When this was done, the boys

-pushed the sailors into the lockers, taped their ankles together, and

-shut them in. The locker doors secured firmly with a latch. Leaving the

-cabin silently, Sandy and Jerry locked its door behind them. That

-certainly took care of two of their captors. Now, if the rest would just

-prove this easy!

-

-As they stepped away from the door, Sandy whispered, “Let’s get out of

-this passage fast. There are too many doors here, and one might pop open

-at any minute!”

-

-They swiftly moved down the length of the passage until they reached the

-bulkhead door. Outside, the deck was dark, with the complete blackness

-of a night at sea, pierced only by the shaft of light that came from the

-passage. Moving now as quickly as they could, they slipped out onto the

-deck, and stepped back out of the light. Their shadows had been outlined

-boldly against the passage light for only a second. They crouched in the

-darkness and waited to be sure they had not been observed. So far, so

-good.

-

-Now that they had gotten this far, Sandy realized, their problems were

-just beginning. How were they to get off the ship? And how could they

-prevent being followed?

-

-“Jerry,” he whispered, “we’ve got to see to it that we get away from

-here in the fastest boat they have! I wonder if there’s a power boat

-around?”

-

-“There has to be,” Jerry answered. “Every ship carries lifeboats, and

-one of them always has power so it can be used as a captain’s launch

-when necessary.”

-

-“Well, let’s find it!” Sandy whispered.

-

-Gazing over the side, they could see no boat tied up at all. They had to

-work their way to the other side of the freighter, without once more

-crossing the telltale path of light from the passageway. To do this,

-they had to work their way forward to the bow, and then around to the

-other side of the ship. Slowly, with as much care as they could muster,

-they dropped to their knees and began to crawl.

-

-They reached the forepeak with no trouble, except the minor difficulties

-of crawling over the mess of rope and ship’s gear scattered around the

-disordered deck. As they started back, though, two dark forms appeared

-in the light of the passage!

-

-“Down!” Sandy whispered, and he and Jerry dropped flat on the deck

-behind the protection of the windlass. Peering around the corner of the

-huge machine, with its coil of giant anchor chain, they watched the

-figures come nearer. Halfway between them and the deckhouse, the shadows

-stopped, leaning against the bulwark, and lit cigarettes.

-

-In the brief flare of the match, the boys recognized the grim face of

-Turk. The other man with him was a sailor they had seen on deck with the

-rest of the crew when they had been taken aboard the freighter. He spoke

-in a thin, flat, whining voice, with a trace of a foreign accent that

-might have had its origin in any country in the world, but which by now

-was simply international. The first words the boys could make out came

-from Turk.

-

-“This waiting is getting on my nerves,” he rumbled. “What’s keeping us

-from shoving off?”

-

-“It’s the big businessmen up there,” the sailor whined, jerking his

-thumb toward the Captain’s quarters. “Jones wants more for the phony

-dough than he got last time, and the Skipper wants to give him less. The

-Skipper says he rates a break in the price for getting rid of those kids

-for Jones. Jones says he’s taking as much risk as the Skipper.”

-

-“And how about us?” Turk asked. “Ain’t we in this as much as them?

-Where’s the payoff for us?”

-

-“I don’t know about you,” the sailor answered. “But the Skipper never

-let _us_ down yet. He says he’s gotta have better terms so’s to pay us a

-bonus. And we’ll get it,” he continued, his voice taking on a mean,

-determined tone. “We’ll get it, or else!”

-

-Sandy and Jerry, scarcely daring to breathe, lay still in the shadow of

-the windlass, listening to this exchange. At each word, the black

-freighter seemed less and less like a place where they wanted to stay.

-Something had to be done, and fast! As each moment wore on, Jones and

-the Captain were coming closer to an agreement, and when that agreement

-was reached, the ship would sail. And if it sailed with them still

-aboard, Sandy thought, their chance of escape would slim down almost to

-the vanishing point!

-

-For a few minutes, Turk and his friend stood silently at the rail and

-smoked their cigarettes. The stillness of the scene was marked only by

-the glow of coals against the black sea and sky. Then one of the

-cigarettes made an arch through the night as it was flipped over the

-side. The figures straightened.

-

-“I’m going back up there,” Turk announced, “and see if I can get any

-better idea what’s going on. I’ll listen at the porthole, and you stay

-back on the boat deck and cover for me. If anyone comes along, start to

-whistle.”

-

-The two dark figures walked back to the deckhouse and disappeared for a

-moment in the shadows. A few minutes later, Sandy saw their forms

-outlined briefly against the light from a porthole on the boat deck;

-then they passed once more from sight.

-

-Turning to Jerry, Sandy whispered, “We’d better get going! If they wind

-up that business talk before we’re out of here, I don’t give us much of

-a chance!”

-

-Once more, they crept in the shadows, moving with painful care over the

-tangled equipment that seemed to cover the decks everywhere. At last,

-reaching the ladder from the main deck to the boat deck, they paused and

-took stock. Above them, showing only as a dark shape against the dark

-sky, loomed the bow of the nearest of the freighter’s four lifeboats.

-Slowly, and with the greatest of care, they slipped up the ladder until

-Sandy’s head was at a level with the deck above. He waited and watched

-to be sure the deck was uninhabited. When he was reasonably certain, he

-moved ahead, slower now than before, and slid his body up onto the deck.

-Jerry followed suit, and soon the two, pulling themselves forward on the

-deck by the flats of their hands and the toes of their sneakers, were

-sheltered by a life-jacket box below the lifeboat.

-

-Turning over, Sandy scanned the bottom of the lifeboat, until, with a

-sigh of relief, he saw what he was hoping to see—the screw of a power

-boat protruding from the stern. This was the object of their search!

-

-As he pointed excitedly to the screw, Jerry whispered with puzzlement,

-“Now that we’ve found their power gig, what are we going to do with it?

-It takes four men to launch these things, and even if we could launch

-it, it would make such a noise that we’d have the whole crew on our

-necks before it ever hit the water!”

-

-“I didn’t figure on launching it,” Sandy said. “What I want to do is fix

-it so they won’t be able to follow us in it when we make our getaway on

-the sloop!”

-

-“Smart thinking!” Jerry whispered. “There’s very little danger that they

-can chase us with the freighter itself. In the first place, by the time

-they could turn it around, we’d be out of sight. And if they don’t catch

-up with us out here, they won’t dare come too near the harbor. The water

-there isn’t deep enough for a ship this size and it would be too risky

-for them. But _I_ don’t know too much about engines. How are you going

-to disable this one?”

-

-“I know a few ways,” Sandy answered, “and I’m going to use them all! If

-I just put one thing out of order, they might fix it right away. But,

-with the mess I’m going to make of that engine, it’ll take them a half

-hour or better to get it going. And by then, I hope, we’ll have sailed

-out of sight!”

-

-Working with the greatest of care, the boys unlaced the canvas cover on

-the outboard side of the lifeboat. Standing on the rail of the ship,

-Sandy swung up and slid in beneath the cover, into a pitch-blackness

-that made the night outside seem bright in comparison.

-

-As Jerry joined Sandy, his added weight made the lifeboat lurch to one

-side, and brought a creak from the davits in which the boat was hung. To

-the boys under the canvas, it sounded as loud as a scream! Motionless in

-the dark, they waited for the thud of running feet, the tearing back of

-the boat cover, the glare of flashlights—but none came. The only answer

-to the noise was a thin, tuneless whistle from the deck above them. It

-was Turk’s fellow sailor, keeping watch for his spying friend, and he

-was as afraid of passing noises as the boys were!

-

-Not daring to move, Sandy and Jerry waited for what seemed hours until

-the slight swaying of the lifeboat stopped. As cautiously as they could,

-so as not to start it moving again, they changed their positions in such

-a way as to balance the boat better. At last they were stationed one on

-each side of what Sandy could only hope was the engine compartment.

-

-“How can you work in the dark?” Jerry whispered. “How will you know

-what’s what in there?”

-

-“It shouldn’t be too hard,” Sandy replied. “Almost all engines have a

-lot in common. If I can just get my hands on the engine, I think I’ll

-know what to do.”

-

-Working only by touch, it was not easy to find out how the lid to the

-engine compartment was removed. Slowly moving his hands around the

-surfaces of the box, Sandy found two hook-eyes, which he carefully

-unfastened. On the opposite side of the box, he found two more, which he

-also undid.

-

-“We’re in luck,” he whispered to Jerry. “If this had been a hinged top,

-I don’t think we could have opened it. There isn’t enough headroom below

-this canvas to raise a boxtop this size.”

-

-With the greatest of care, making only the smallest of scraping noises,

-they removed the heavy lid and placed it across two of the lifeboat’s

-seats.

-

-“I’m ready,” Sandy said. “I’m going to be handing you some parts, Jerry.

-I want you to put them in your shirt. We can’t leave them in here, and

-if we threw them overboard, the splash would surely be heard. Just be

-sure they don’t clank around!”

-

-Working noiselessly, Sandy ran his hands over the engine, starting from

-the top of the block. He touched and counted the spark plugs—four of

-them. His own experience with assorted jalopies would come in handy

-here, he thought. Carefully, he slipped the wires off the tops of the

-spark plugs. Following the wires to their source, he came to the

-distributor cap. Two clips held it in place. These were easily removed.

-Following the wire that came from the center of the distributor cap, he

-came to its end at the spark coil. A small pull removed it. Then he

-handed the whole thing, which felt like a mechanical octopus, to Jerry,

-who slipped it into his shirt.

-

-A little more probing brought out two more parts from the distributor,

-both quite small. One was the rotor, the other the condenser. “With any

-one of these things gone,” Sandy whispered, “they won’t be able to run

-this boat!”

-

-“Great!” Jerry breathed. “Now let’s get going!”

-

-“Not yet,” Sandy said. “We still have some more to do. I don’t want to

-make it too easy for them!”

-

-The next thing to go was the fuel pump, as Sandy unscrewed from it the

-glass bowl through which the gasoline had to pass. This was followed by

-a small collection of springs from the choke, the accelerator and the

-carburetor.

-

-“I think that ought to do it,” Sandy said. “Now let’s put this engine

-lid back on, so they can’t tell right away that somebody’s been in

-here!”

-

-It took even more care to replace the lid than it had to take it off. It

-was a tight fit, and really needed a blow on the top to make it fit

-properly on the casing, but this could not be done without making far

-too much noise. Finally, they decided to leave it unhooked, rather than

-run the risk of giving away their presence in the lifeboat.

-

-Getting out and dropping soundlessly to the deck was not easy either,

-especially for Jerry, with the hardware stored in his bulging shirt

-front. Sandy, who had gone first, helped him down, and Jerry landed

-beside him with a muted clinking of metal and hard plastic. The slight

-noise brought no warning whistle from Turk’s lookout.

-

-A glance at the deck below showed them why. Their eyes, grown accustomed

-to complete darkness, were now able to see quite clearly about the

-freighter’s deck. Up forward, near where they had hidden below the

-windlass, stood Jones and the white-uniformed little Captain, together

-with Turk, Bull, and several other sailors.

-

-Apparently the business talk was concluded and, much more to the boys’

-concern, the freighter was making ready to hoist anchor and set off for

-ports unknown!

-

-

-

-

-                             CHAPTER TWELVE

-                            The Race Begins

-

-

-Even as they watched, a working light mounted on the foremast suddenly

-flooded the foredeck with brilliance, bringing the shadowy figures into

-sharp focus, like actors on a brightly lighted stage.

-

-Instinctively, Sandy and Jerry shrank back into the shadow of the

-life-jacket box, until Sandy realized that the bright light on the

-foredeck would make the rest of the ship almost invisible to people in

-its rays.

-

-For a few seconds or more, the boys watched the tableau below them until

-several of the sailors ambled over to the windlass. Then Jerry said,

-“They’re getting ready to hoist the anchor now. We have to move fast if

-we’re going to get to our boat before Jones gets to his!”

-

-Still exercising the greatest care, they re-laced the canvas where they

-had entered the lifeboat, then quietly crept alongside the rails under

-the lifeboats until they came to the ladder connecting the boat deck to

-the afterdeck.

-

-This, fortunately, was both deserted and unlighted, the deck crew having

-all gone forward to work on the windlass. The boys made their way down

-to the point where they had come on board via the rope ladder, which was

-still slung over the side, waiting for Jones’s departure.

-

-Looking over the bulwark, they saw the two sloops below them, bobbing

-gently in the swell that washed against the sheer side of the tall

-freighter. They looked almost unbelievably peaceful, and Sandy thought

-once again about Jones’s comments about the unsuspicious looks of

-sailing craft. Next to their trim, small shapes, the freighter looked

-every bit as sinister as it had actually proved to be!

-

-“This is it,” Sandy whispered. “Let’s make it fast!”

-

-He stepped over the bulwark and disappeared down the rope ladder. Jerry

-was as close behind him as he could get without running the risk of

-stepping on Sandy’s hands. A moment more brought them to the deck of the

-sloop.

-

-“Now comes the hard part,” Jerry whispered. “We’ve got to get our sails

-up and shove off without anyone seeing or hearing us—and it’s not

-exactly a quiet job. In fact, if I remember right, our slides squeak

-pretty badly in their track. I noticed it when we first took it out, and

-made a mental note to oil the track as soon as we got some time.”

-

-“Maybe we’d better not risk it,” Sandy said. “Is there some way we can

-get away from here without having to hoist the sails right away?”

-

-“Well ...” Jerry said, “if there were enough current, we could drift

-off, but I don’t think there is. Besides, it would take a long time, and

-I don’t think we’ve got too much time to waste right now.”

-

-“Suppose we tow it off behind the dinghy?” Sandy asked. “You know, the

-way we brought it out of the harbor for the first day’s sail.”

-

-“Good!” Jerry exclaimed. But it only took a moment’s search to assure

-them that the dinghy was not with them. “Jones must have left it tied to

-his mooring,” Jerry said. “That puts us back where we started.”

-

-“I guess there’s nothing to do but try it with our sails,” Sandy said.

-As he started to move forward, Jerry stopped him with a hand on his

-shoulder.

-

-“Wait a minute! I think I know a way to do this! I remember I was once

-taught about sculling with the rudder. You use it like an oar. I’ve

-never had to try it, but this is probably the best time. C’mon! Let’s

-cast off those lines!”

-

-Working swiftly, Sandy cast off the bow line while Jerry did the same

-with the line at the stern. Then both of them pushed off from the side

-of the freighter, and the little sloop drifted noiselessly away from the

-scarred steel cliff of the huge hull.

-

-The bright light from the foredeck spilled on the waters around the bow

-of the ship, and seemed even to light up the sloop. Sandy only hoped

-that whoever was standing lookout on the freighter was within that

-circle of light. If he was in the darkness of the upper decks, even the

-few dim beams that reflected from the white hull of the little sailboat

-would shine out like a warning beacon against the dark waters!

-

-Sandy worked his way aft over the cabin roof, and dropped into the

-cockpit to join Jerry at the tiller. Jerry was carefully working the

-tiller backward and forward, making small gurgling sounds as the rudder

-swept through the water.

-

-“Here’s the way it works,” he said. “I’m using the rudder like a single

-stern paddle. Lots of boats in the old days used to be run like that. If

-the paddle’s properly shaped, it will do a good job of propelling a

-boat. They call a long stern oar a sweep, and it’s good enough so that

-it’s still used on heavy barges in lots of places around the world.”

-

-“Won’t it just push the stern around from one side to the other?” Sandy

-asked.

-

-“Not if you do it carefully,” Jerry replied. “What I’m doing is this: I

-ease the rudder to one side, slowly, so as not to row with it. Then I

-give it a strong pull toward me—like this—and then I shove it halfway

-back.”

-

-As he spoke, he hauled on the rudder, and the stern of the sloop swung

-around a bit, but the return motion of the rudder stopped the swinging

-action and steadied the sloop on her course. Sandy saw small ripples

-form a wake behind the boat as some forward motion was gained. As Jerry

-repeated the gentling, pulling and returning of the rudder, the sloop

-gained a little more forward speed. Slowly, the rusted sides of the

-black freighter slid by them.

-

-“So far, so good,” Sandy said. “If we keep this up, we’ll be able to get

-away before we’re spotted.”

-

-“I hope so,” Jerry agreed fervently, pulling strongly on his improvised

-sweep. By now the sloop was some thirty feet or more away from the

-freighter, and heading past the overhanging stern of the big ship.

-Suddenly, the stillness of the night was shattered by a roar and clank

-of machinery.

-

-“It’s the windlass!” Jerry cried. “They’re getting ready to haul up the

-anchor! Jones must be ready to go over to his boat!”

-

-Even as he spoke, a flare of work lights came up over the freighter’s

-afterdeck, clearly showing Jones and the Captain standing by the head of

-the rope ladder, flanked by Turk and Bull. The Captain and Jones were

-shaking hands, apparently having concluded a deal on the counterfeit

-cargo that pleased them both. Neither of them had as yet looked over the

-side to see that one of the sloops was missing.

-

-“We can’t chance this any more,” Jerry said. “We’re bound to be

-discovered in another minute, when Jones starts over the ladder! Let’s

-get those sails up now, and do the best we can!”

-

-“You’re right,” Sandy agreed, swiftly leaping atop the cabin roof to

-reach the main halyards. Taking a deep breath, he hauled. With a

-screech, the slides moved stiffly up the track, and the mainsail

-fluttered overhead.

-

-Moving quickly, Sandy grasped the jib halyard and hoisted it aloft while

-Jerry was fastening the main halyard to its cleat. The sloop began to

-make headway in the light breeze. Then, as Sandy joined his friend in

-the cockpit, the sloop sailed clear of the shadows that lay below the

-stern of the freighter, and into the circle of light that surrounded the

-afterdeck. At almost the same instant, a shout rang out from above them.

-

-“Look! It’s the kids!” It was Turk, who, seeing the sail like a luminous

-flag in the water, had sounded the alarm.

-

-“Get down!” Sandy said, pulling Jerry to the deck of the cockpit. His

-action came not a minute too soon for a pistol shot rang out. It was

-followed by a volley of shots, as more of the freighter’s crew got into

-the action, but the boys were unharmed, although two bullets had hit the

-cabin roof and one had plowed a furrow in the deck.

-

-The shooting stopped after a few more stray shots were fired, the sloop

-having by now moved out of effective pistol range. Making the best

-headway they could in the light breeze, Sandy and Jerry looked back with

-satisfaction to see the freighter’s crew working feverishly at the

-davits to get the ship’s power gig into the water.

-

-“If we can just get enough lead time,” Jerry said fervently, “we’ll make

-it to shore well ahead of them!”

-

-“What if Jones follows in his boat?” Sandy asked.

-

-“We’ll worry about that if he does,” Jerry answered. “He’s a good

-sailor, but we have a lead on him. It’ll be our first race, if it

-happens, and I sure hope we win!”

-

-By now the power gig was hanging over the side, its davits having been

-swung into launching position. The canvas cover had been removed, and

-several sailors clambered in, waiting for the boat to be lowered. With a

-creak of blocks and tackle, the lifeboat was swiftly dropped to the

-water. The boys could see someone bending over the engine compartment,

-trying to get the boat started.

-

-“Jones’ll have a long wait, if he wants to go after us in that!” Sandy

-chuckled. “That ship is so sloppy, I’ll bet it will take them an hour

-just to find the parts they need, once they discover what’s wrong!”

-

-But apparently Jones wasn’t going to wait. He had sized up the situation

-quickly—too quickly—and was going over the side and down the rope ladder

-to the other sloop!

-

-“Oh-oh!” Jerry said. “He’s going to try to catch us in the other sloop!

-And we haven’t got more than a few hundred yards on him yet. This is

-going to be some race!”

-

-Some race! Sandy realized once again how different the meaning of speed

-is to a sailor and to a landsman. Here they were, in a gentle breeze on

-a calm sea, preparing to race for their very lives—and they would

-probably not sail faster than he could walk!

-

-Consulting the stars, Jerry set a downwind course, and the boat headed

-slowly but steadily toward the mainland.

-

-“We’d do better on some other point of sail,” Jerry said, “but there’s

-one consolation.”

-

-“What’s that?” Sandy asked.

-

-“He’s got to sail on the same course we take, so he can’t take advantage

-of any more favorable wind than the one we get. That, and the fact that

-the boats are the same, at least puts us on an even footing.”

-

-By now, Jones and a crew member were in the sloop, and were getting the

-sails up. Sandy watched as the mainsail caught the light from the

-freighter, followed almost immediately by the jib. The sloop swung about

-into the trail of light that danced on the water between them and the

-big ship, and set her sails for a downwind tack.

-

-Small waves whispered softly at the bow, and bubbles gurgled quietly in

-the wake. The mainsheet hardly pulled at all in Sandy’s hand as the sail

-caught all the wind there was to catch. Hardly seeming to move at all,

-the sloop glided slowly ahead in the soft night breeze.

-

-And the toughest race they would ever sail was under way!

-

-

-

-

-                            CHAPTER THIRTEEN

-                      A Race of Mistaken Identity

-

-

-“Trim your main!” Jerry said. “Haul back a little ... more ... no, let

-it out a shade ... that’s it! Cleat it down there!”

-

-Sandy followed Jerry’s directions carefully, hauling at the sheet to get

-the sail set to its best position. Like the airplane wing it resembles,

-the sail must be perfectly shaped to get the maximum advantage of the

-wind. Sandy had learned that this was true even on a downwind run, where

-a sail let out too far will spill wind, and a sail sheeted in too close

-will miss too much wind.

-

-Rejoining Jerry on the cockpit seat, Sandy looked aft to catch sight of

-their pursuer. He was surprised to see the amount of water that now

-separated them from the freighter, which seemed a spot of bright light

-far behind them. Against the light he could see the silhouetted shape of

-Jones’s sloop. It seemed to him that they were closer than before, and

-he motioned Jerry to turn and look.

-

-“You’re right,” Jerry said, guessing at the question that had formed in

-Sandy’s mind. “They’re closing in on us, all right. That Jones is sure

-some sailor! We’ll have to do better than this if we’re going to get

-ashore before they sail within pistol range!”

-

-“What can we do?” Sandy asked, his brow wrinkling under the blond

-forelock that hung over his eyes.

-

-“The only thing we can do is put on more sail,” Jerry answered. “That

-won’t be an easy job with just the two of us. And you’ve never handled a

-spinnaker.”

-

-“You’d better give me some fast instruction,” Sandy breathed. “First,

-what’s the spinnaker?”

-

-“It’s a big oversized jib, cut like a parachute,” Jerry replied. “You

-saw a few out in the bay yesterday, remember? It’s that big sail that

-flies out ahead of the boat. You can only use it on downwind sailing,

-unless you’re a lot better sailor than I am, and it’s the best pulling

-power you can have when the wind’s at your back.”

-

-“What do I have to do to help you?” Sandy asked.

-

-“I’ll have to put it up myself,” Jerry told him. “Your job will be to

-hold a steady course and to keep the sails trimmed the way they are

-now.” Sandy grinned. “I won’t look around to see how other boats look

-this time,” he promised. Then he sobered. “I’ll do my best to keep her

-sailing right. What’ll you be doing?”

-

-“I’ll have to drop the jib, which will lose us some speed for a minute.

-Then I’ll hoist the spinnaker, with a pole to the tack—that’s the

-corner—to swing it outboard to where it will catch the wind. Then—but we

-can’t waste time talking about it! I’ll show you now and explain some

-other time!”

-

-Both boys took another look back, but by now the night had swallowed up

-Jones’s sloop, and all they could see was the glow of the freighter,

-growing rapidly smaller and fainter behind them.

-

-“I wonder if Jones has seen that?” Sandy said. “The freighter must be

-under way. They haven’t even waited for him, to see how things turn

-out!”

-

-“I’m not surprised,” Jerry said. “If Jones catches us, they don’t have

-anything to worry about. And if he doesn’t ... they want to be a long

-way away from here!”

-

-Turning their attention back to their own problem, Jerry asked Sandy to

-go below to the cabin’s sail locker and pull out the sail bags, but not

-to light even a match. The odds were that Jones still could not see

-them, and it was better to keep it that way.

-

-“How will I know which is the spinnaker?” Sandy asked.

-

-“We only have two sails below,” Jerry answered. “We’re flying the main

-and genoa jib now. That means that the only bags will have the working

-jib and the spinnaker. The working jib is the small bag, and the

-spinnaker will be as heavy as the mainsail.”

-

-In the cabin of the sloop it was as dark as it had been under the cover

-of the lifeboat. Sandy groped about, searching for the sail locker,

-which was forward of the mast, in the peak of the boat. Finally, after

-tripping a few times, and once bumping his head badly, he felt his hands

-come in contact with the brass catch that secured the locker.

-

-Inside were several sail bags, most of them empty. He came on one that

-contained a sail, but it was obviously the small working jib. Worried

-now, Sandy burrowed deeper into the locker, and at last found a bag that

-seemed heavier than the first. Relieved, he carried it out to the

-cockpit, where Jerry was anxiously looking aft.

-

-“Look! If you look just about four points off our stern, you can see

-her!”

-

-Sandy squinted to where Jerry had pointed, and made out a dim white

-shape through the darkness, surely no more than a few hundred yards

-behind them!

-

-“They’re closing in!” Jerry said. “I’d better rig this thing as fast as

-I can!”

-

-He took the sail bag from Sandy, and crawled forward over the cabin.

-Sandy anxiously handled the tiller, hoping that he was keeping the

-course. Overhead, a few dim stars made points of light, and he leaned

-back to line up the masthead with one of them. In his right hand, the

-mainsheet felt light—too light—and he worried that he had so little

-control over it. What if they were to jibe now, as they had on the first

-day’s sail? What if the sails were not properly trimmed? And how could

-he be sure they were? How long would it take Jones to catch up with

-them? Taking his eyes for a minute from the star and the masthead, he

-saw Jerry kneeling on deck, doing something with the sail. Then he

-looked back to the masthead, and fixed all his attention on keeping the

-boat on a steady course.

-

-Suddenly, Jerry was back in the cockpit with him, and the sail bag,

-still full, was dropped on the deck at his feet.

-

-“What’s wrong?” he asked.

-

-“Sandy, was that the only heavy bag there was?” Jerry asked.

-

-“That’s right. The only other bag was so light it must have been the

-jib. What’s the matter?”

-

-Jerry shook his head slowly. “We’re in real trouble now,” he answered.

-“That’s not a spinnaker at all. It’s a spare genoa!”

-

-“But—but I saw the bag marked spinnaker the other day!” Sandy

-spluttered. “Why would Uncle Russ put a spare genoa in a bag marked for

-a spinnaker?”

-

-“He wouldn’t,” Jerry answered. “And what’s more, he didn’t. I was able

-to make out the letters on the bag, and they said ‘genoa.’ Brace

-yourself for a shock, buddy. I _know_ we had a spinnaker aboard. And I

-know we didn’t have two jennies!”

-

-“Do you mean we’ve done it again?” Sandy gasped.

-

-“That’s right,” Jerry said sadly. “We goofed again, and took Jones’s

-boat instead of yours!”

-

-There was nothing to say. They turned in silence to look aft at the dim

-white shape that followed them through the night, and that slowly ate

-away at the distance that kept them apart.

-

-

-

-

-                            CHAPTER FOURTEEN

-                           Slow-Motion Chase

-

-

-“What can we do now?” Sandy asked.

-

-“Just what we’re doing,” Jerry answered mournfully. “Just sail the best

-we can and hope that he won’t close in on us before we come across some

-other boat.”

-

-“Maybe Jones won’t find our spinnaker,” Sandy suggested. “If he thinks

-he’s on his own boat, he knows he hasn’t got a spinnaker below, and

-maybe he won’t see any reason to go poking around in our sail locker.”

-

-“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Jerry said. “We can make a mistake like this—and

-make it twice—because neither of us is really familiar with your boat.

-But a good sailor like Jones knows his own boat the way he knows his own

-living room. He isn’t going to be fooled the same way we were!”

-

-“Still,” Sandy reasoned, “that’s no guarantee he’s going to go to our

-sail locker, is it?”

-

-“It’s almost a sure bet,” Jerry replied. “He’s probably got Turk looking

-around now to see what kind of extra canvas we might have on board, and

-when he finds that spinnaker, we can kiss our chances goodbye!”

-

-“Well, he hasn’t found it yet,” Sandy said stubbornly. “And until he

-does, there must be something we can do to get more speed out of this

-boat!”

-

-Stirring out of his gloom, Jerry trimmed the mainsheet and then the jib.

-Then suddenly he brightened. “Say! I remember reading about one trick

-that might help us. It’s called wing-and-winging. What you do is rig the

-jib on the opposite side from the mainsail when you’ve got the wind at

-your back. It’s supposed to act almost like a spinnaker.”

-

-“Well, let’s do it!” Sandy said. “What do you want me to do?”

-

-“You just hold the course, like before,” Jerry explained. “I’ll go

-forward and re-rig. When I tell you to, you uncleat the jenny sheet, and

-I’ll swing the sail around on the other side and brace it out. I’ll use

-the boat hook for a whisker pole to hold it in place. Maybe this’ll turn

-the trick!”

-

-He clambered forward, and once more Sandy was left alone with the

-tiller, the star and the masthead. For a few minutes he thought only of

-holding the course, until he heard Jerry’s voice, “Now!”

-

-Leaning forward, Sandy uncleated the sheet which held the genoa jib in

-trim, where it had flown almost useless before the mainsail. He watched

-eagerly as Jerry hauled the sail around to the windward side, lashed the

-boat hook to the clew and swung the big triangle outboard. Almost

-instantly, the jenny started to fill, and Sandy felt the little sloop

-start forward.

-

-Jerry quickly leaped into the cockpit and secured the sheet, trimming

-the billowing sail. “It’s working!” he panted. “This may just turn the

-trick!”

-

-They listened in satisfaction to the increased sound of the waves

-slipping past the sloop’s sides and muttering in the wake. They could

-actually feel the difference in the motion of the boat.

-

-“Jones has probably had his jib winged out all this time,” Jerry said.

-“That’s why he’s been closing in on us so fast. Maybe this will keep the

-distance the way it is until we can get ashore or get help!”

-

-“I sure hope so!” Sandy agreed.

-

-“Just hope he doesn’t find that spinnaker! As long as we’re both flying

-the same sail area, and as long as we’re both heading downwind, there’s

-not much he can do to catch us. Running before the wind this way, equal

-boats with equal canvas flown in the same way will come out just about

-the same. It’s on a reach, or beating against the wind that expert sail

-handling really makes the difference. And I’m sure glad we’re not on

-some other point of sail, because Jones would outsail us every time!”

-

-With that thought to cheer them, the boys sailed in silence. Above them,

-clouds occasionally blotted out the stars of the dark moonless night,

-and it was hard to set a course by any one of them. At the helm, Jerry

-steered as much by the feel of the wind on his back as by the stars he

-could see.

-

-Behind them always, never drawing any nearer, but never falling astern,

-was the white blur of Jones’s canvas. It was as if the two boats were

-tied together with a fixed length of cable or a rigid bar that would not

-allow the gap between them to change.

-

-The race went slowly. It was like a chase in some fantastic dream, Sandy

-thought, a dream where he was running in slow motion, trying with every

-ounce of strength to make his legs go faster.

-

-But there was a difference, for here there was no exertion, no strain,

-except on the nerves. Here all was, to a casual glance, peaceful and

-pleasant. If any boat were to pass, all its passengers would see would

-be two pretty sloops, out for a night-time sail.

-

-Suppose another boat did come? How would they know? Then Sandy

-remembered the flare pistol. He had put it on the seat when they had

-come aboard! Maybe the bulky brass gun would come in handy again! He

-searched the night for some sign of a boat’s running lights, but saw

-only the same black sea and sky on all sides. Still, perhaps nearer

-shore....

-

-The nightmarish quality of the race increased as each moment wore on. It

-seemed to Sandy that he was doomed to sail on forever, like the

-legendary Flying Dutchman, never getting to shore, never getting within

-hailing distance of another boat.

-

-He strained his eyes against the darkness ahead, and then turned to look

-astern at the following shape of Jones’s boat, stubbornly staying with

-them at the same fixed distance. He almost wished that Jones would in

-some way catch up, just to break the tension. Maybe in a fight, there

-would be a chance! At least, they wouldn’t just be sitting and waiting.

-

-As he watched, something on the pursuing sloop seemed to change. A

-shimmer of white sails, then nothing.

-

-“Jerry!” Sandy whispered, gripping his friend’s arm. “Look back there! I

-thought I saw something change in his sails. I couldn’t tell for sure,

-but doesn’t it seem to you that the shape is different now?”

-

-Jerry squinted back at Jones’s boat. “I think you’re right,” he said.

-“It looks as if he’s changed his sail trim some way. I wonder what he’s

-got up his sleeve this time?”

-

-“Do you think he’s found our spinnaker?” Sandy asked.

-

-As if in answer, the white shape behind them altered once more. A new

-piece was added to it—a long, flapping shape. As they watched,

-fascinated and fearful, but unable to do a thing, the long white

-triangle billowed out, changed into a full, taut shape and lifted high

-above the deck of Jones’s boat.

-

-“So that’s a spinnaker,” Sandy said.

-

-“It sure is,” Jerry answered grimly. “Take a good look at it, because it

-may turn out to be the last one we’ll ever see!”

-

-

-

-

-                            CHAPTER FIFTEEN

-                          Turn and Turn Again

-

-

-As Jones’s spinnaker filled and lofted, a fresh breeze came up from

-astern, tugged at the rigging, tightened the sails and sent the boys’

-sloop ahead at a sharper pace.

-

-“Feel the breeze!” Sandy said. “Maybe that’ll help us out of trouble!”

-

-“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Jerry replied. “The same breeze is helping

-Jones, and he’s got an awful big sail up to catch it!”

-

-“Even so, Jerry,” Sandy objected, “I seem to remember you saying

-something that ought to give us a chance now....”

-

-“If you do, you’d better let me know,” Jerry said, “because I sure don’t

-feel very full of ideas now.”

-

-Sandy wrinkled his brow and strained at his memory. There seemed to be

-some fact, some idea half remembered from all Jerry had told him, that

-ought to help. He looked astern, and the sight of Jones’s sloop bearing

-down on them and swiftly closing the gap between the two racing boats,

-seemed to have just the stimulating effect he was looking for.

-

-“I know!” he almost shouted. “Didn’t you say that we can do better on a

-reach than a boat with a spinnaker can do downwind?”

-

-“That’s right,” Jerry said doubtfully. “But we have to sail a downwind

-course to get to shore.”

-

-“Well, what’s your hurry?” Sandy asked. “Why don’t we put off going

-ashore just now? I mean, if we take off on a reach, maybe we can lose

-Jones in the dark before he can change sails to follow us. If we can

-just put some distance between us, we can head back for shore later!”

-

-Jerry clapped Sandy on the shoulder and shouted, “You’re right!” Then he

-looked back at Jones’s boat, clear in shape, but not in detail. “I wish

-I could see how he has his spinnaker sheeted, but I can’t make it out.

-Still, let’s just take a chance.” He looked at Sandy in admiration.

-“Boy, you’re sure catching on fast! That was a real racing sailor’s

-idea!”

-

-Carefully selecting the best course to give their boat the most speed

-and to lose the least time in putting about, Jerry instructed Sandy.

-

-“We’re going to jibe,” he said, “but don’t worry. This is going to be

-deliberate, not accidental. It’s the accidental jibes that wreck the

-rigging. We’re going to put about this way so’s not to waste time

-shifting the genoa jib to the other side. As soon as I’ve got that

-whisker pole ready to come off, we’ll do it.”

-

-He went forward, and after a moment’s work, quickly returned to the

-cockpit. “Ready now,” Jerry said. “I’ll take the tiller and you take the

-mainsheet. As I start to put about, you haul in on the sheet, until the

-boom is right over the keel of the boat. Then I’ll put her hard over,

-and you let the sail out evenly on the other side until I say stop. Got

-it?”

-

-Sandy wasn’t sure, but he figured that this was no time for more

-detailed instruction on the art of the deliberate jibe. Holding the

-mainsheet, and his breath, he silently hoped that he knew what he was

-doing. One mistake now—the wrong kind of jibe, that could wreck the

-rigging—would surely put them back in Jones’s hands.

-

-He watched Jerry carefully, and, following his instructions, started to

-haul in on the mainsheet. It came very lightly and easily. Remembering

-the terrific force of the jibe on the first day’s sailing, though, Sandy

-knew enough not to be fooled by appearances. He shortened the sheet so

-that he would not be taken unawares when the wind caught the mainsail on

-its new tack.

-

-A few seconds of hauling and shortening brought the mainsail directly

-over the center of the boat, with the sheet securing it tightly against

-the dangerous sudden jibe. Then, as Jerry brought the sloop about hard

-on her new course, the wind took the sail. The boat heeled far over,

-leaning its lee side into the waves through which they were cutting with

-a new speed.

-

-Sandy held hard to the sheet, the pull of which was almost cutting his

-hand. The load of wind in the taut sail transmitted its strength to the

-sheet, and became a hauling, tug-of-war enemy.

-

-“Let her out!” Jerry shouted. “More! More! Okay ... hold her there!”

-Sandy felt some of the pull lessen as he allowed the sail to swing

-farther out over the side. “Good,” Jerry said. “Now take the tiller—hold

-everything as it is—while I free the jenny and trim it properly.”

-

-Sandy, the mainsheet wound tightly about his right hand, took the tiller

-in his left, while Jerry went forward to do his job. He was burning with

-eagerness to look back to see how their maneuver had affected Jones, but

-he didn’t dare. He had too much to think about to take his eyes away

-even for a second from his own work of sailing. This was the first time

-he had handled both the tiller and mainsheet and it was really the first

-time he had actually handled the boat. There was a new sense of command

-now and of real control. The feel of the boat was complete. It almost

-seemed alive. His hands told him how a change of rudder position worked

-a change on the sail, or how a shift of the mainsail, a few inches in or

-out, affected the pull on the helm.

-

-In a few minutes, Jerry was back in the cockpit, trimming the genoa

-sheet and setting the sail in its best shape ahead of and overlapping

-the mainsail. When all was made fast, he took the tiller from Sandy once

-more, and the boys were at last free to look back.

-

-What they saw was not encouraging. As they had expected, the change of

-course had increased the distance between them and Jones, but the

-distance was not great enough to take them out of sight. A few minutes

-of looking revealed that they were not likely to outdistance Jones on

-this tack any more than they had on the downwind run.

-

-“How come we can’t beat him?” Sandy asked. “He surely hasn’t had time to

-get his spinnaker down and his genoa up, has he?”

-

-“He didn’t have to,” Jerry answered. “He’s using his spinnaker now as if

-it were a genoa. It’s a good stunt. What he did was to bring the

-spinnaker pole forward and lash it to the deck, so that it made a kind

-of bowsprit. Then he sheeted the sail flat. It makes a powerful sail

-that way.”

-

-“What if he wants to go on the opposite tack?” Sandy asked. “How can he

-put about?”

-

-Jerry grinned. “I think you’ve done it again, Skipper,” he said. “That’s

-the best question you’ve asked all night!”

-

-“What do you mean?” Sandy asked, puzzled.

-

-“I mean that he can’t put about on the other tack without an awful lot

-of trouble. We can, and we will, and with luck we’ll lose him that way!”

-

-This time the maneuver was a familiar one of bringing the sloop up into

-the wind, shifting the genoa jib and coming off the wind to the new

-tack. It was performed smoothly, both boys working like an experienced

-crew.

-

-On the new tack, they looked about once more for Jones’s following

-sloop. As they had hoped, the strange zigzag they had described had left

-him far astern, but still in sight. Even as they watched, they saw Jones

-drop his spinnaker and re-rig it on the new tack. Once more, he was in

-pursuit!

-

-“I’ve never seen anyone handle sails that well,” Jerry said in unwilling

-admiration.

-

-“Do you think we can outmaneuver him?” Sandy asked.

-

-“Well, we might keep up the sort of thing we’ve been doing,” Jerry

-answered. “If we keep changing tacks, we can probably keep him out of

-close shooting range all night. Then, by morning, we can hope to see

-some other boats and maybe get help. There’s only one thing wrong with

-that plan, though.”

-

-“I know,” Sandy offered. “We’re all right as long as we don’t make any

-mistakes. But the minute we goof on one maneuver, we lose the race!

-Right?”

-

-“Right,” Jerry said. “Still, I don’t see what else we can do but try. We

-haven’t got much choice.” As they sailed on in silence, Sandy reviewed

-their situation. The trouble with their plan was a simple one. They had

-to do a perfect job of sailing, and he doubted whether they were up to

-it. All Jones had to do was follow their maneuvers, and when they made

-their first mistake, he would close in. There was no hope, he could see,

-in waiting for Jones to make the first mistake himself. The man was too

-good for that.

-

-If only they could find some new way to take the initiative, things

-might work out, Sandy thought. This cat-and-mouse game couldn’t possibly

-do any good. Besides, even if they could hold out till day-light, there

-was no guarantee that they would get help from any other boat before

-Jones could finish the job. After all, lack of light was all that was

-preventing Jones from firing at them now. When morning came, it would

-most likely be accompanied by a hail of shots!

-

-The more Sandy thought, the less it seemed that they could find a way

-out of their desperate straits. Then his gloomy thoughts were

-interrupted by Jerry.

-

-“Got any more ideas?” he asked. “I know it’s my turn to think up a good

-one, but I can’t seem to come up with a thing.”

-

-“I don’t know,” Sandy answered. “It seems to me though, that we’re going

-to have to do something really different now if we’re going to get back

-to shore in one piece!”

-

-Then he suddenly sat up straighter, pushing back his blond forelock.

-“Jerry! I think I have an idea!”

-

-“What is it?” Jerry asked eagerly.

-

-“It may sound crazy, but I want to go back on a downwind course again!”

-

-Jerry looked puzzled. “A downwind course? Sandy, we don’t have a chance

-that way! That’s the way we were sailing when Jones first started after

-us, and with his spinnaker in place, he’ll have us in no time!”

-

-“I know,” Sandy said, “but I have an idea that might work this time. I

-want Jones to get close—real close—to try this!”

-

-Jerry shook his head. “It sounds nutty to me,” he said, “but if you

-think you’ve got something that’ll work, I’m game. Just tell me

-what....”

-

-“Not now, Jerry,” Sandy cut him off. “Let’s just change course while I

-work out the details. If we don’t do this now, I might lose my nerve!”

-

-“I’ll do it,” Jerry agreed, shaking his head doubtfully from side to

-side. “But what worries me isn’t that you might lose your nerve. I’m

-afraid that you’ve already lost your mind!”

-

-

-

-

-                            CHAPTER SIXTEEN

-                          The End of the Race

-

-

-It was still pitch-dark on the Pacific, miles off Cliffport, but Sandy

-saw a dim, gray smear of light in the east that told him dawn was not

-too far off. Dawn—and the shots it would bring from Jones and Turk!

-

-If his plan didn’t work now, it would never work, he knew. This was to

-be really a one-shot try! But better to try, he felt, than to tack

-aimlessly back and forth, waiting for Jones to close in.

-

-Almost mechanically, Sandy helped Jerry put the sloop about on her new

-course before the wind. Once again the genoa jib was held out

-wing-and-wing with the boat hook, and once again the mainsheet exercised

-only a light pull in his hand. With everything set, Sandy and Jerry

-turned their attention to the sloop behind them.

-

-The pursuing white sails shone dimly through the darkness as Jones

-followed them in their course. His spinnaker, released from its duty as

-a genoa, was once more flying full and round before him, taking

-advantage of every puff of wind at his back. It was a foregone

-conclusion that he would catch them now, unless they were even faster

-than before in putting about on some new tack.

-

-Jerry could not stand the suspense a moment longer. “Sandy, what are you

-going to do?” he cried. “Whatever it is, if we don’t do it now, we’re

-goners!”

-

-“Not yet,” Sandy muttered. “He’s got to get closer!”

-

-“If he gets any closer, he’s going to start shooting,” Jerry replied.

-“What do we do then?”

-

-“We’ve got to be ready for it,” Sandy answered. “I expect him to shoot,

-and I expect him to start pretty soon. In fact, we’d better get down as

-far as possible right now!”

-

-Both boys sat together on the cockpit deck, Jerry awkwardly steering and

-Sandy holding the mainsheet in his left hand. “You steer, Jerry,” he

-said. “I’m going to turn around so I can keep an eye on Jones. I expect

-the fireworks to start any minute now!”

-

-“I can do without the entertainment,” Jerry said. Then he added once

-more, “Boy, I sure hope you know what you’re doing! If you don’t....”

-His voice trailed off.

-

-Half kneeling, Sandy crouched by the stern seat, keeping as much under

-cover as possible. Over the edge of the afterdeck he saw Jones’s sloop,

-closer now than it had been ever since their fantastic race had begun.

-For some reason, Jones was holding back, not closing in as fast as he

-had been before. Sandy knew that he must be puzzled, and trying to

-figure out what their next move would be. His success depended on

-outthinking them as much as it did on outsailing them, and his skill lay

-largely in his ability to guess what maneuver the boys were going to try

-next. This time, Sandy thought, he must really be baffled. No one in his

-right mind would try to escape as they were doing!

-

-For minutes that seemed like hours, the chase continued with Jones

-making no effort to advance. Then, Sandy realized, Jones made up his

-mind to attack. His sails were trimmed fuller, his spinnaker lofted

-higher, and a white bow wave broke out to signify Jones’s new speed.

-There wasn’t much time left now before things would start popping!

-

-By now, less than one hundred yards separated the two boats. Not much

-more distance, Sandy thought, than a target range. Still, it wasn’t

-quite close enough....

-

-A shot! As they heard the crack of the pistol, the whine of the bullet

-passed overhead! Another shot—another—and a piece of the coaming

-splintered off uncomfortably close to Sandy’s ear!

-

-Jones’s boat surged on, preceded by a rain of shots. Now less than fifty

-yards of water were between them! More shots followed, mostly going

-through the sails. With a _thunk_, one hit the hull—another gouged up

-the deck—a third hit the tiller, not six inches from Jerry’s hand.

-

-Jerry’s face looked white as he craned his neck to look up at his

-friend. “Whatever you’re planning, I wish you’d tell me now,” he said.

-“Because I may not be around to see the big moment when it comes!”

-

-“You’ll be here,” Sandy said, “because the big moment is now! Turn

-around with me and watch Jones’s boat. If this works, it’s going to be

-something worth watching!”

-

-As Jerry changed his position, he saw for the first time that Sandy had

-the big brass flare gun in his hand! He was cocking it carefully, and

-keeping an eye on Jones’s sloop which seemed to be almost ready to ram

-them. Lying flat on the foredeck of the pursuing boat, they could

-clearly see the figure of Turk, hurriedly reloading his pistol.

-

-“You’re not going to try to shoot him with that?” Jerry said. “Those

-things are way too inaccurate! You won’t stand a chance!”

-

-“Not him,” Sandy said. “It!” He steadied the flare gun on the edge of

-the afterdeck and squinted down its length, aiming at the spinnaker!

-

-Seeing now what Sandy was attempting, Jerry crouched beside him and held

-his breath. Sandy waited till almost the last possible minute until,

-just as Turk was raising his pistol to fire once more, he released the

-flare.

-

-A dazzling arc of fire leaped from the brass muzzle straight for the

-bellying spinnaker! It landed in a shower of sparks, bright enough to

-show them Turk’s astonished face turned upward to see what had hit them.

-The shot had hit squarely in the center of the ballooning sail, burning

-a small, red-ringed hole which slowly spread.

-

-Would this be all? Just a spreading ring of coals that would die in a

-minute or two? If this was all, it was not enough! Then, just as Sandy

-was beginning to fear that he had made a mistake that might well cost

-them everything, the sail burst into flame!

-

-The column of fire shot straight upward into the blackness of the night,

-vividly illuminating both boats. In its brilliant light, the boys saw

-Turk stand up, black against the flames, then leap overboard.

-

-“One down!” Sandy said. “But what about Jones?”

-

-As the flaming spinnaker spread its fire to the mainsail and the mast,

-they saw Jones rise in the cockpit, level his rifle and shoot. Six shots

-rang out in quick succession, and all six whizzed harmlessly by. Then

-Jones flung his empty gun into the sea and turned his attention to the

-fire.

-

-Jerry and Sandy sailed slowly away from the flaming scene, and then

-started to sail in a circle around it, still watching Jones. He had

-gotten a bucket from below, and was throwing sea water, as fast as he

-could scoop it up, over the burning and the unburned parts of the sloop.

-The fire was gaining though, and his efforts were obviously doomed to

-failure.

-

-“If he hadn’t been so busy shooting when the fire started,” Jerry said,

-“he would have stood a good chance of putting it out. The delay is going

-to sink him!”

-

-Jones worked feverishly until the last possible moment, until the decks

-and the cabin were aflame, and the fire had spread to the little

-cockpit. Finally, when it was obvious that there was no more he could

-do, he kicked off his shoes and jumped over the side.

-

-“What do we do now?” Sandy asked. “We can’t just leave them there to

-drown. They probably deserve it, but I don’t think it’s up to us to

-judge what kind of sentence they get.”

-

-“You’re right,” Jerry agreed. “But if we take them aboard, we won’t

-stand much of a chance against them. Why don’t we try to find them and

-toss them a couple of life jackets so they can stay afloat while we make

-up our minds?”

-

-It was no trouble to find Turk, who came swimming up to the side to beg

-to be taken aboard. Sandy kept the empty flare pistol aimed at him while

-Jerry looked for the life jackets. When he had found them, he tossed one

-over the side, and Turk struggled into it. Then, still frightened of the

-flare gun which he did not know was empty, he held up his hands tamely

-to allow Jerry to tie them together.

-

-“Now will ya lemme come on board?” he pleaded.

-

-“I don’t think so,” Sandy answered. “I think you’ll be safer at the end

-of a long line. Just relax, and we’ll tow you back to shore!”

-

-With Turk in tow, the sloop handled rather sluggishly as the boys

-circled the scene of the fire searching for Jones. The bright light of

-the flames had died to a glowing, dull orange which was soon to go out

-altogether as the sloop settled lower and lower in the water.

-

-“What we need is a searchlight,” Jerry said. “We may never find him

-unless he swims to us the way Turk did!”

-

-“Listen!” Sandy said. “If I’m not mistaken, I hear a searchlight coming

-now!”

-

-Turning in the direction of the new sound of powerful marine motors,

-they were met with a bright searchlight beam, which swept from them to

-the burning sloop and back again. For the first time since their

-adventure had started, Sandy felt a genuine feeling of relief, as the

-Coast Guard cutter reversed its engines and came to a neat stop

-alongside.

-

-

-

-

-                           CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

-                           Another Discovery

-

-

-With the arrival of the Coast Guard, the problem of finding Jones solved

-itself. He quickly realized the hopelessness of his position and swam in

-from the darkness toward the cutter and the sloop, tamely giving himself

-up.

-

-It was only after he and Turk had both been taken on board the Coast

-Guard vessel and placed under guard that the captain of the cutter,

-Lieutenant Ames, started to ask the necessary questions.

-

-He listened, absorbed in the story, until Sandy had finished talking.

-Then he sighed. “That’s quite a yarn, boys. It sounds pretty wild. For

-your sakes, I hope that you can show some evidence to back it up.

-Otherwise, all we have is your word. Now, your word may be good enough

-for me—” he held up a hand to forestall Sandy’s objections—“but it’s

-going to take more than that to make a charge of counterfeiting stick in

-a court of law.”

-

-“We’ve _got_ more than that!” Sandy said angrily. “We can show you the

-island, and unless I miss my guess, we’ll find Jones’s counterfeiting

-presses there!”

-

-“I hope so,” Lieutenant Ames said. “Meanwhile, since you’ve made charges

-against these men, I’ll hold them in custody until we get ashore. Then

-I’ll turn them and the whole case over to the FBI, where it belongs.”

-

-His official statement done, Lieutenant Ames relaxed into a boyish grin.

-“You can get those scowls off your faces now,” he said. “I just wanted

-you to realize that we’ve got to have good, solid proof before this

-business is over with. As for me, I believe your story, and I think the

-FBI will, too.”

-

-“I’m not too worried about proving our story about Jones and Turk,”

-Sandy said. “But what worries me is how we’re going to get the

-freighter, now that it’s out of U.S. coastal waters.”

-

-“The Navy will take care of them,” Lieutenant Ames said. “But that

-reminds me, you didn’t tell me the name of the freighter, and we’ll need

-to radio that to the Navy right away.”

-

-“I noticed the name on the lifeboat,” Jerry said. “It was the _Mary N.

-Smith_, from Weymouth.”

-

-“No!” Sandy said. “You must have gotten it mixed up in the darkness. I

-saw it clear as day on the stern. It was the _Martin South_ from

-Yarmouth!”

-

-“I’m sure I had it right,” Jerry said. “I remember thinking to myself

-that it was a pretty innocent, girlish name for such a dirty freighter!”

-

-“Maybe you’re both right,” Lieutenant Ames said. “It sounds to me as if

-both names have a lot in common. They probably have a set of phony

-papers under each name—and maybe under three or four more names that

-sound a lot like those. That way, all they have to do is paint out and

-change a few letters after each port, instead of having the whole job to

-do. It allows them to make quick shifts of identity.”

-

-“It also lets them explain that they were picked up because of an

-accidental similarity of names, in case of trouble,” Jerry put in. “I

-wonder what name they’re using now,” he added.

-

-“That’s pretty easy to guess,” the Coast Guard officer said. “If I were

-changing names after leaving a port, I’d paint the bow and stern while I

-was at anchor, and leave the lifeboats and other things for when I was

-at sea. My guess is that we’ll find them sailing as the _Martin South_

-from Yarmouth.”

-

-“Unless,” Sandy added, “unless they decided to change it to something

-else while at sea, after the trouble. After all, they have no idea

-whether Jones got us or we got him, and they’ll probably be expecting to

-get picked up.”

-

-“Well, we won’t take any chances,” Ames said. “I’ll radio the Navy now

-to be on the lookout for any freighter with a name anything like _Martin

-South_ or _Mary N. Smith_. And if I know those boys, we’ll have a report

-on them within the next few hours!”

-

-After giving his instructions to the radio operator, Ames decided it was

-time to head for shore and turn over Jones, Turk and the boys to the

-FBI. It was decided to take the sloop in tow behind the cutter, and

-Sandy went over the side to find a towing line to hand up to the

-cutter’s deck.

-

-“Come on over with me,” Sandy said, “and I’ll show you some of the

-bullet holes we’re carrying. They ought to help support our story!”

-

-Lieutenant Ames followed Sandy over the side and joined him on the deck

-of the little sloop, where he examined the holes in the sail and the

-furrows in the deck and the coamings. “They sure came close!” he said.

-“You’re pretty lucky to be here in one piece now.” He ran his finger

-thoughtfully along a deep scar in the coaming near where Sandy’s head

-had been, and whistled low when he saw the splintered spot on the

-tiller.

-

-Lieutenant Ames followed Sandy below in search of the spare mooring

-line. (The original one had been left dangling from the deck of the

-freighter.) He stood stooped over in the low cabin, surveying the trim

-accommodations. At last, Sandy found a line that would do, stowed away

-up forward with the anchor.

-

-Joining Ames in the cabin, he pointed to the locker above the compact

-galley. “There’s where we found the money when we went looking for the

-canned food,” he said. “It was filled up all the way to here,” he

-indicated, sliding back the locker door.

-

-“What do you mean, _was_?” the Coast Guard officer asked with a gasp.

-The open locker door revealed the stacked counterfeit, untouched, just

-as the boys had first seen it!

-

-“Whew!” Sandy sighed. “Well, I guess _that_ takes care of our case

-against Jones!”

-

-As they towed the sloop back to Cliffport, heading into the bright

-colors of a Pacific sunrise, they pieced together what must have

-happened.

-

-“From what we overheard on the freighter,” Sandy said, “Jones and the

-freighter captain were both dissatisfied with the original deal they had

-made for the counterfeit money. Jones wanted more for the stuff, because

-of the risk he had run with us and because of the added chances he was

-taking if we disappeared from Cliffport. A local investigation of our

-disappearance might turn up someone who had seen us near his island.”

-

-“Right,” Jerry added. “And the Captain wanted a larger share than usual

-for himself because of the risk he was running in getting rid of us for

-Jones. They bargained about it for a long time.”

-

-Lieutenant Ames nodded. “And Jones wasn’t taking any chances by bringing

-the money on board until his deal had been settled. He must have been

-going for it when you saw him and the Captain shaking hands on deck. And

-the reason he was so desperate when he saw you sailing off was that he

-knew you were not only escaping, but escaping with the evidence!”

-

-“I guess it’s not always a bad thing,” Sandy laughed, “to make the same

-mistake twice!”

-

-

-

-

-                            CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

-                             Homeward Bound

-

-

-Three days later, the case ended where it had really begun—back in the

-Cliffport Boat Yard. Only this time, Sandy and Jerry picked their way

-over the timbers and rails with Lieutenant Ames instead of with Sandy’s

-Uncle Russ.

-

-“I guess you boys are glad this is all over,” he said. “I suppose you’re

-all set for your trip home now?”

-

-“We sure are,” Jerry said. “We just need to buy a few things, and we’re

-ready.”

-

-“It was sure nice of the FBI to let us have Jones’s sloop as part of the

-reward,” Sandy added. “I felt pretty bad when I saw my boat on fire. I

-was sure that if we ever got back to shore, we’d be taking the train

-home!”

-

-“There was no sense in keeping it,” Ames said. “Not even for evidence.

-We had all the evidence we needed with that bundle of counterfeit

-money—and even more than that, with the printing press and the plates we

-found at Jones’s little resort. And everyone agreed that you ought to

-have it.”

-

-They walked along the sea wall until they reached the corner of the

-shed, where Lieutenant Ames suddenly stopped. “As long as you’re

-thanking the FBI for the boat,” he said, “I think you might as well

-thank the Coast Guard too!”

-

-“Well, of course,” Sandy said, puzzled. “I only meant that it was the

-FBI who really had title to it, and they were the ones who decided.... I

-mean, we’re grateful to you all.”

-

-Ames laughed. “I don’t want to keep you in the dark,” he said. “The FBI

-gave you the boat, all right, but we decided to pitch in a little, too.

-Look!”

-

-They turned the corner of the boat-yard shed. In front of them, resting

-in a high cradle, was the sloop, freshly painted and gleaming in the

-sun, her sides as smooth as glass.

-

-After both boys had thanked Lieutenant Ames profusely, Jerry asked, “How

-did you ever get so much done in just three days?”

-

-“Oh, that’s the Coast Guard way with boats,” Ames said and he laughed.

-“A whole gang of the boys decided to go to work on her, and we did in

-three days what would take most boat yards a week or two. It started

-when we decided to fix up the bullet scars, and it just didn’t stop

-until we had finished the whole thing!”

-

-Climbing to the deck, they inspected the newly painted cabin and

-cockpit, the freshly varnished coamings and mast, the almost invisible

-repairs on the decks.

-

-“We’ll have her launched within the next hour,” Lieutenant Ames said.

-“Why don’t you go into town to buy whatever you need in the meanwhile?

-It shouldn’t take you too long to get stores for a short trip.”

-

-“That’s a good idea,” Sandy said. “But we’re going to need more than the

-regular stores. I’m going to spend some of that reward money right away

-on a new spinnaker. That’s one thing I’ve decided never to be without

-again!”

-

-“Not only that,” Jerry added, “but we want to get some more shells for

-the flare pistol. I don’t think I’ll ever feel comfortable without that

-on board!”

-

-“There’s something else, too,” Sandy said. “I think we ought to think up

-a name for this boat right away, and pick up some brass letters for the

-stern. I don’t want to keep on making mistakes!”

-

-Ames joined in the laughter, then said, “That’s one thing I think you

-don’t have to do. That is, unless you don’t like the name the Coast

-Guard picked out for you!”

-

-Rushing to the stern, Sandy and Jerry leaned over to see the shiny brass

-letters screwed to the counter of their sloop. Looked at upside down,

-they spelled:

-

-                                 REWARD

-

-

-                        SANDY STEELE ADVENTURES

-

-                           1. BLACK TREASURE

-

-Sandy Steele and Quiz spend an action-filled summer in the oil fields of

-the Southwest. In their search for oil and uranium, they unmask a

-dangerous masquerader.

-

-                      2. DANGER AT MORMON CROSSING

-

-On a hunting trip in the Lost River section of Idaho, Sandy and Mike

-ride the rapids, bag a mountain lion, and stumble onto the answer to a

-hundred-year-old mystery.

-

-                            3. STORMY VOYAGE

-

-Sandy and Jerry James ship as deck hands on one of the “long boats” of

-the Great Lakes. They are plunged into a series of adventures and find

-themselves involved in a treacherous plot.

-

-                          4. FIRE AT RED LAKE

-

-Sandy and his friends pitch in to fight a forest fire in Minnesota. Only

-they and Sandy’s uncle know that there is an unexploded A-bomb in the

-area to add to the danger.

-

-                      5. SECRET MISSION TO ALASKA

-

-A pleasant Christmas trip turns into a startling adventure. Sandy and

-Jerry participate in a perilous dog-sled race, encounter a wounded bear,

-and are taken as hostages by a ruthless enemy.

-

-                           6. TROUBLED WATERS

-

-When Sandy and Jerry mistakenly sail off in a stranger’s sloop instead

-of their own, they land in a sea of trouble. Their attempts to

-outmaneuver a desperate crew are intertwined with fascinating sailing

-lore.

-

-PUBLISHED BY SIMON AND SCHUSTER

-

-

-

-

-      *      *      *      *      *      *

-

-

-

-

-Transcriber’s note:

-

---Copyright notice provided as in the original—this e-text is public

-  domain in the country of publication.

-

---Silently corrected apparent typographical errors; left non-standard

-  spellings and dialect unchanged.

-

---In the original, the last word in the text was printed upside down.

-

-

-

-***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TROUBLED WATERS***

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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 50353 ***
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustrations.
+      See 50353-h.htm or 50353-h.zip:
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/50353/50353-h/50353-h.htm)
+      or
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/50353/50353-h.zip)
+
+
+Transcriber’s note:
+
+      Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
+
+
+
+
+
+Sandy Steele Adventures
+
+TROUBLED WATERS
+
+
+      *      *      *      *      *      *
+
+SANDY STEELE ADVENTURES
+
+Black Treasure
+Danger at Mormon Crossing
+Stormy Voyage
+Fire at Red Lake
+Secret Mission to Alaska
+Troubled Waters
+
+      *      *      *      *      *      *
+
+
+Sandy Steele Adventures
+
+TROUBLED WATERS
+
+by
+
+ROGER BARLOW
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Simon and Schuster
+New York, 1959
+
+All Rights Reserved
+Including the Right of Reproduction
+in Whole or in Part in Any Form
+Copyright © 1959 by Simon and Schuster, Inc.
+Published by Simon and Schuster, Inc.
+Rockefeller Center, 630 Fifth Avenue
+New York 20, N. Y.
+
+First Printing
+
+Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 59-13882
+Manufactured in the United States of America
+by H. Wolff Book Mfg. Co., Inc., New York
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+  CHAPTER                                                           PAGE
+  1 An Unusual Gift                                                    9
+  2 Make Ready to Sail!                                               20
+  3 Shakedown Cruise                                                  33
+  4 The Man with the Gun                                              51
+  5 Storm Fears                                                       67
+  6 Something Lost—Something Found!                                   75
+  7 A Million Dollars’ Worth of Trouble                               82
+  8 Double Blackout                                                   87
+  9 To the Freighter                                                  97
+  10 Aboard the Floating Prison                                      108
+  11 Escape to Danger                                                120
+  12 The Race Begins                                                 136
+  13 A Race of Mistaken Identity                                     146
+  14 Slow-Motion Chase                                               153
+  15 Turn and Turn Again                                             160
+  16 The End of the Race                                             169
+  17 Another Discovery                                               177
+  18 Homeward Bound                                                  183
+
+                   [Illustration: CLIFFPORT CALIFORNIA]
+
+                          [Illustration: SLOOP]
+
+  (1) _Mainsail_
+  (2) _Jib_
+  (3) _Mast_
+  (4) _Boom_
+  (5) _Shrouds_ (_standing rigging_)
+  (6) _Headstay_ (    ”    ”    )
+  (7) _Backstay_ (    ”    ”    )
+  (8) _Rudder_
+  (9) _Tiller_
+  (10) _Mainsheet_
+  (11) _Hawk_
+  (12) _Halyards_
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER ONE
+                            An Unusual Gift
+
+
+Sandy Steele slowly put down the phone and pushed his blond cowlick back
+from his brow. Excitement and confusion were mixed in equal parts in his
+expression as he turned to his father, John Steele, who stood leaning
+against his workbench, idly tossing a piece of quartz crystal in the
+air.
+
+“Wow!” Sandy said. “Leave it to Uncle Russ to come up with a real
+surprise!”
+
+“It certainly seems to be a habit of his,” John Steele smiled. “What do
+you think of this particular surprise?”
+
+“I hardly know what to think,” Sandy answered. “The question is, what do
+you and Mother think? I mean, is it all right if I go—if I can find
+somebody to go with me?”
+
+“Your mother and I discussed this with your Uncle Russ before he called
+you,” Sandy’s father said, “so I guess that’s one worry you don’t have
+to consider. The only problem you have is finding somebody who knows how
+to handle a boat, and who’ll be interested in making this trip with
+you.”
+
+Wrinkling his forehead in thought, Sandy swung his gangling six-foot
+frame up on to the workbench next to his father. “How about you, Dad?”
+he asked. “Do you know anything about sailing a boat?”
+
+His father shook his head. “Sailing is hardly a skill that a government
+field geologist needs to develop. My work is with rocks and minerals—the
+dryest kind of dry land. What I know about water, you could carve on
+granite and put in your watch pocket!”
+
+“Geology didn’t make you into an inventor, a chemist, an electrical
+engineer, a carpenter and gosh knows what else,” Sandy answered, waving
+around him at the crowded workshop with its confusing mass of equipment.
+“I just thought you might have done some reading on this subject, too.”
+
+John Steele smiled. “As the proud but confused owner of a new sailboat,
+one of the first things you’ll learn is that there’s a world of
+difference between theory and practice. I’ve been out on a boat a few
+times; years ago, though. I’ve also read some books on the subject, as
+you thought. But all I know is that I don’t know anything.” He put down
+the quartz crystal and moved away from the workbench. “No,” he said, “if
+you’re going to be able to accept your Uncle Russ’s offer of a sailboat
+as a gift, and if you’re going to sail it on a three-day trip down from
+Cliffport, you’ll have to find someone with practical knowledge to help
+you do it.”
+
+Sandy frowned in concentration. “Finding a sailor in Valley View is
+going to be like finding a ski instructor in the Sahara Desert!” he
+said. “Why, this town is almost one hundred miles inland from the
+ocean!”
+
+“That’s true,” John Steele said; “but it seems to me that I once heard
+you and one of your friends talking about sailing. If I’m not mistaken,
+it was Jerry James, and it sounded to me at the time as if he knew what
+he was talking about.”
+
+“Of course!” Sandy said, slapping his forehead in exasperation. “I don’t
+know why I didn’t think of it! Jerry was a Sea Scout in Oceanhead before
+his family moved to Valley View. It’s just that he’s become so much a
+part of this town that I forget he didn’t grow up here with the rest of
+us. I think he was a Sea Scout for about three years, and he had been
+sailing before he ever joined up. I’m sure he can do it!”
+
+“Well,” his father said, “you’d better hunt him up fast and find out
+whether he can and will. Your uncle expects us to call him back within a
+couple of hours to give him an answer, because he’s leaving the country
+in two days and he wants to get this settled before he goes.”
+
+He had hardly finished his sentence before Sandy was out of the
+workshop, on his bike, and tearing down the tree-shaded street. He was
+sure that Jerry would be able to do it! He remembered their conversation
+well, now that his father had reminded him of it, and he recalled that
+Jerry had said that he practically grew up on boats, and that they were
+the only thing that he missed since moving to Valley View. In the close
+friendship that had grown up between them in the last couple of years,
+Sandy could not think of one time that Jerry had promised something that
+he did not deliver. If he said he could do something, he could do it!
+Sandy smiled, remembering Jerry’s early days in Valley View, his modest
+admission that he “could play a little baseball,” and his first day on
+the diamond. Jerry had immediately shown himself to be the best high
+school catcher in the county. With Sandy as pitcher, they had developed
+into an almost unbeatable battery.
+
+As he pedaled toward the drugstore owned by Jerry’s father, Sandy hoped
+that they would be able to carry their teamwork on in this new venture.
+He could still hardly believe his Uncle Russ’s offer of a sailboat,
+provided he could find someone to teach him how to sail. Like most boys,
+he had read and enjoyed sea stories, although many of the words used
+were strange and meaningless to him. In his reading, he had often
+pictured himself at sea, steering a tall ship through white-capped seas.
+A confused series of sailing words went through his mind: bow, stern,
+helm, topgallant sails, mizzen, poop deck, quarter-deck, galley, batten
+the hatches, go aloft....
+
+He was suddenly brought back to land as he narrowly missed running his
+bike into Pepper March, who refused to hurry for a mere bike. Putting
+the sea dreams firmly out of his mind, he continued more carefully until
+he pulled up in front of James’s Drugstore, where he put his bike in the
+rack under the green-and-white striped awning and hurried into the cool,
+vanilla-smelling store.
+
+Jerry was behind the counter, making up a pineapple ice-cream soda for
+Quiz Taylor who, with two empty glasses in front of him, was impatiently
+waiting for the third.
+
+Sandy climbed onto the stool next to the stubby Quiz and impatiently
+waited until Jerry was through making the soda. When the concoction was
+safely delivered into Quiz’s eager hands, Sandy said, “Jerry, I’ve got
+some real exciting news! In fact, it’s so exciting that I didn’t want to
+tell you while you still had that soda in your hands. I was afraid you’d
+toss the whole thing into the air!”
+
+Having firmly secured both his friends’ attention, Sandy told them about
+the phone call from his Uncle Russ, the offer of the boat, the need for
+instruction and the whole story. When he had finished, Jerry’s
+lantern-jawed face was lit up with a 500-watt grin.
+
+“It sounds as if this is going to be the best vacation of my life!” he
+said. “A boat! I can hardly wait to get going!”
+
+Sandy sighed with relief. “Then you’re sure you can handle it?” he
+asked.
+
+“That’s a good question,” Jerry said, running a hand over his
+close-cropped inky hair. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know because
+you haven’t told me yet what kind of a boat it is. There are plenty that
+I wouldn’t even say I could act as a decent crew member on. Do you know
+what kind it is?”
+
+“Why ... why ... it’s a sailboat!” Sandy said. “I mean, that’s all I
+know about it. Does it make much difference?”
+
+Jerry laughed. “There are almost as many different kinds of boats as
+there are people,” he said. “Nobody but a real Master Mariner would just
+answer that he could sail anything. It’s like being an airplane pilot.
+If you got your pilot’s license flying a Piper Cub, you wouldn’t be
+exactly ready to fly a four-engine jet bomber!”
+
+“Still,” Quiz interrupted thoughtfully, “the principle remains the same
+in both. It’s simply a question of creating a high-speed airstream, so
+directed as to pass over and under an aerodynamically shaped surface
+which, because of the varying degree of arc and the cambered sections
+and angle of attack, produces a lift, drag and momentum proportional to
+the density of the air, the square of the speed and the area of the wing
+or airfoil. It’s simple! What’s more, a sailboat works the same way.”
+Looking pleased with himself, Quiz happily returned his attention to the
+pineapple soda.
+
+“Why, Quiz!” Sandy said. “I didn’t know you could fly!”
+
+“Fly!” Quiz looked up from his soda with a grimace. “The very thought of
+flying makes me sick. If I don’t hold on to the banister, I get dizzy
+when I go up to bed at night!”
+
+All three boys laughed, for this side of Quiz’s personality was a
+standing joke with them. Quiz, formally known as Clyde Benson Taylor,
+was a virtual encyclopedia of obscure information. While he could tell
+you vast amounts about nearly every human activity, the very idea of
+taking part in an activity usually upset him.
+
+“So much for theory,” Jerry said. “Now, to get back to the practical
+realities of sailing a boat—I’d have to know a few things about the kind
+of sailboat you have before I’d be willing to give an answer. There are
+all kinds of boats, of all different sizes. There are sloops, cats,
+cutters, yawls, ketches, schooners and a hundred variations. Did your
+Uncle Russ give you any idea of what he has for you?”
+
+“I think he said it was a sloop,” Sandy said. “And he did say that while
+it was large enough to sleep on and take out on a cruise, it was a
+pretty small boat. He said that anyone who knew how to sail would know
+how to handle it.”
+
+“That sounds right to me,” Jerry said. “I didn’t think that he’d want to
+start you off with a complicated rig or a big boat. If it’s the kind of
+thing I think it is, I’m sure I can sail it, and teach you too.”
+
+“Will I have to learn all about yardarms and fore-topgallant sails and
+things like that?” Sandy asked, somewhat doubtfully.
+
+“Not for quite a while,” Jerry laughed. “You’ve been reading too many
+books about pirates and whalers in the old days. You only find all those
+complicated sail and rigging names on the big square-rigged ships—the
+ones with three and four masts. If your boat is a sloop, it only has one
+mast, one mainsail, and a choice of maybe three other sails, flown one
+at a time with the mainsail. There’s nothing much to learn compared with
+the old full-rigged ships with up to four masts.”
+
+“Five,” Quiz said.
+
+“I never heard of one with more than four,” Jerry commented.
+
+As if he were reading from a book buried deep in his pineapple soda,
+Quiz mumbled around the straws, “The steel ship _Preussen_ was the only
+five-mast full-rigged ship ever built. It was 408 feet long, had masts
+223 feet high, yardarms over 100 feet long and 47 sails totaling 50,000
+square feet.”
+
+Even though Sandy was used to this sort of thing from Quiz, he was more
+impressed than usual. “How would you like to come with us, Quiz?” he
+asked.
+
+“Who, me?” Quiz looked shocked. “I don’t know the first thing about
+boats! No, thanks—I’ll stay safe ashore!”
+
+The next half hour was spent in excitedly discussing the trip to come,
+the possibilities of sailing, the things Sandy would have to learn, and
+the equipment that he and Jerry would have to take along. Finally Sandy
+remembered that his Uncle Russ was expecting a phone call, and that
+Jerry still had to get his parents’ permission to make the trip. They
+agreed to go back to Sandy’s house and let John Steele make the call to
+Jerry’s father so that the adults could satisfy themselves about the
+wisdom of letting the boys take a three-day cruise for Sandy’s first
+trip.
+
+Leaving Quiz in charge of the drugstore’s soda fountain, they quickly
+hiked to the Steele home, where Sandy’s father agreed to make the call.
+
+Getting Jerry’s parents’ consent to the trip proved not to be a
+difficult task. Mr. and Mrs. James obviously had a good deal of
+confidence in Jerry’s ability to handle a sailboat, and both sets of
+parents felt that their level-headed sixteen-year-olds could take such a
+trip on their own. In short order, all of the details were worked out,
+and Sandy was once more on the long-distance phone to speak with his
+Uncle Russ in San Francisco.
+
+“It’s okay!” he shouted, as soon as his uncle answered the telephone.
+“Jerry James, my best friend, used to be a Sea Scout and knows all about
+boats. His parents say he’s a good sailor. We’re ready to start any time
+you want!”
+
+He listened for a minute to his uncle, then said, “Swell! We’ll be
+ready. And thanks a million for the boat!” Hanging up the phone, he
+turned to his father, mother and Jerry with a wide grin.
+
+“Uncle Russ sure doesn’t waste any time,” he said. “He’s leaving now and
+expects to be down here tonight. He says that we’d better get all packed
+and ready, because he wants to take us up to Cliffport tomorrow morning,
+and we’ll have to leave here by six o’clock!”
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER TWO
+                          Make Ready to Sail!
+
+
+“There’s one good thing about riding in this little sports car,” Sandy
+said, and laughed as he eased his cramped six-foot length out of his
+Uncle Russ’s low-slung red racer. “It’s going to make the sailboat seem
+as roomy as a yacht in comparison!”
+
+Sandy pushed his cowlick out of his eyes and stretched as his uncle and
+his friend Jerry followed him out of the little car.
+
+“Don’t worry about the size of the boat,” Jerry said. “I’ll guarantee
+that it’s going to seem pretty big and complicated, no matter how small
+it actually is, until you’ve learned how to sail it. In fact, you’re
+going to find that a boat is a whole new world, full of all kinds of new
+things to get used to. And from what your uncle told us about this one,
+it’ll be more than big enough to keep us both busy for a couple of
+summers to come.”
+
+“I feel as if we’re in a whole new world already,” Sandy replied, “and
+we’re not even on board yet!” He looked about him at the beehive of
+activity that was the Cliffport Boat Yard. “I’ve never seen anything
+like this before!”
+
+From all sides came the sounds of hammering and sawing, and the thin
+whine of electric sanders. The brisk, salty smell of the sea was mingled
+with the sharp odors of paint, varnish and turpentine and the peculiar,
+half-sweet smell of marine engine fuel.
+
+Boats of every size and description were ranged about them. Towering
+high above them, resting in specially built cradles, were long hulls
+with deep, weighted keels like giant fins under them. Heavy frames and
+timbers held these boats upright, and ladders leaned against them to
+where their decks joined their sides, high overhead. Men scrambled up
+and down the ladders with tools and equipment, or sat on the scaffolds
+and frames, painting.
+
+Smaller craft without keels were braced in cradles or frames on the
+ground, or lay bottoms up on racks made of heavy beams that looked like
+railroad ties. Some of the boats were having their bottoms scraped, some
+were being sanded, others were in the process of painting.
+
+At one nearby boat, Sandy saw men hammering on the bottom of the hull
+with big wooden mallets. Jerry explained that these were calking
+hammers, and that they were used to drive oakum into the seams between
+the planks to make the boats watertight for sailing. When the boats were
+put in the water later on, he added, the planks would swell and form
+waterproof joints where the planks met.
+
+On both sides, lines of railroad tracks led from the boat yard and the
+big sheds straight down to the water’s edge and on into the water. Boats
+on wheeled flatcars stood on the rails here and there, ready to be eased
+down the tracks into the water for launching. Jerry explained how, when
+the flatcars with their cradles had gone down the slope and were under
+water, the boats simply floated away from them. Then the launching
+device would be hauled back up the tracks for use on another boat.
+
+Sandy looked about him in bewilderment at the variety of boats in the
+yard. There were small boats with one mast, larger ones with two, cabin
+cruisers with no masts at all, and one sleek, beautiful, black-hulled
+boat with three tall masts. He was just beginning to think that he had
+found some relationship between the size of the boat and the number of
+masts when he spotted what appeared to be one of the largest hulls in
+the boat yard, with one immense mast. Next to it was a far smaller boat
+with two. Sandy thought to himself that there didn’t appear to be any
+simple rules to the business of boat designing. All in all the bustling
+Cliffport Boat Yard was a thoroughly confusing sight for Sandy, and a
+pretty exciting one, too.
+
+As a matter of fact, the entire last two days had been pretty confusing
+and exciting, Sandy reflected. Just two days ago, he had started on his
+spring vacation from Valley View High School with not a thing to do but
+loaf around home. Now, suddenly, he was the owner of a sailboat he had
+never seen, and he was preparing to take a two-hundred-mile cruise down
+the coast! A two-hundred-mile cruise—and he had never even been on board
+a sailboat!
+
+Looking at the maze of masts and rigging around him, Sandy sensed for
+the first time some of the complications of handling a boat. Laying a
+hand on his friend’s shoulder, he said, “Boy, Jerry, I sure hope you can
+sail this boat alone! If what I see around me is a sample, I’m afraid
+I’m going to be too confused to do more than just watch you and maybe
+ask a few simple-minded questions!”
+
+“Don’t worry about it,” Jerry said with a grin. “It’s not anywhere near
+as complicated as it looks at first sight. I learned to handle a boat
+fairly well in just a few summers at the shore, plus some instruction in
+the Sea Scouts, and I didn’t even have my own boat so that I could sail
+regularly. One season of working your own boat will probably turn you
+into a first-rate skipper!”
+
+Then Jerry frowned for a minute and ran his hand over his hair.
+“Speaking of being a skipper,” he began awkwardly, “you realize, I
+guess, that I’ll have to act as skipper of this boat at first? I mean, I
+know it’s your boat and all, but....”
+
+Sandy laughed. “You go right ahead and take charge! I’ll be more than
+happy to take orders from you. After all, somebody on board has to be in
+charge, and it’s a good idea to have it be someone who knows what he’s
+in charge of!”
+
+“Fine,” Jerry said, looking relieved. “If you just keep up that kind of
+attitude, you’ll be the best kind of a crew member that any skipper
+could ask for!”
+
+Sandy’s Uncle Russ had been waiting by his car while the boys had been
+talking and taking in the sights, sounds and smells of the Cliffport
+Boat Yard. Now he moved over to join them. “The trunk of the car is
+open,” he said, “and your sea bags are in there. And that’s as much as I
+intend to do about it. I don’t know much about sailors, but if they’re
+anything at all like soldiers, they carry their own packs! Now let’s get
+going!”
+
+The boys grinned sheepishly and ran to the back of the car to gather
+their equipment, and Russell Steele relaxed and dropped his mock
+military manner. An ex-general of the United States Army, he often
+kidded Sandy and his friends by pretending that they were soldiers in
+his command. This time, he reflected, it was very nearly true. In the
+same way that a general must feel a responsibility toward the men he
+sends out on a mission, Russell Steele felt responsible for Sandy and
+Jerry as they were preparing to set out on this trip.
+
+After all, he reminded himself, the trip had been his idea, and the
+sailboat had been his present to Sandy. He had been using the boat
+during the last few months while doing some research on special
+underwater equipment for the government, and now he no longer had any
+need for it. As Vice President of World Dynamics Corporation, Russell
+Steele was in charge of the New Projects Division. World Dynamics was a
+sprawling concern with almost unlimited interests, often in the most
+secret kinds of affairs, and his work with it often called him to
+different parts of the world. He had found his stay in Cliffport a
+pleasant change from some of the remote and often primitive places he
+had been forced to settle in in the past. Now, however, he was off
+again, to one more secret destination. He wouldn’t be in a position to
+use a sailboat again for a long time to come.
+
+Sandy’s Uncle Russ had been brought up on the seacoast of California.
+While his brother, Sandy’s father, had become fascinated with the rocks
+and geological formations of the nearby mountains and deserts, he had
+gone in the other direction to the shores of the Pacific. During nearly
+all of his boyhood he had puttered around boats and boat yards.
+
+Although Russell Steele had spent most of his adult life in the Army
+(and maybe because of it) he had always had a soft spot in his heart for
+the sport of sailing. He had regretted that Sandy, his only nephew,
+lived inland in Valley View where he was unable to share in this
+enthusiasm. But Valley View was only a couple of hours from the seacoast
+and now that Sandy was old enough to drive a car, it would be possible
+for him to own and enjoy a sailboat.
+
+Uncle Russ thought of all this, and then he wondered whether it had been
+a good idea to suggest that the boys bring the sloop all the way down
+from Cliffport on their very first sail. Still, he mused, Jerry seemed
+like a responsible lad, and he had said that he knew how to handle a
+boat well enough to make such a trip. And Sandy learned fast and was
+good with his hands. Well, the General thought to himself, we’ll just
+have to give them their heads and let them try it to see how they make
+out....
+
+At that moment in his reflections, the boys joined him with their
+luggage, and all three started through the boat yard to the waterfront.
+As they picked their way through the clutter of boats, scrap lumber,
+railroad tracks and equipment, they passed close by the side of a boat
+standing on the ways about to be launched. Sandy ran his hand over the
+gleaming paintwork of the hull, and found that it was as smooth as
+glass. Jerry explained that great care was given to getting a smooth
+paint job, because the greatest force working against a boat to slow it
+down is the friction created by the water passing over the hull. Good
+racing boats, he told Sandy, are hauled out of the water to be cleaned
+and painted several times in a season.
+
+Their walk had by now led them down to the water’s edge, where they
+walked along a weathered wharf. A light, early-morning haze made the
+colors of the sailboats that floated in the bay seem soft and pale. The
+water and the sky appeared to be one single surface, with no break or
+horizon line to indicate where one stopped and the other began. The
+boat-yard flag on its mast atop the main shed fluttered lazily in a mild
+breeze, and a gentle ground swell made soft, lapping sounds under the
+wharf.
+
+Strolling along, they came to a long, steeply sloping gangway that
+descended to a floating dock, to which were tied several small sailboats
+that rocked quietly on the smooth swell of Cliffport Bay.
+
+Russell Steele took his pipe out of his mouth and pointed with it. “See
+there?” he said. “The third sloop—the one with the white hull and the
+green decks and the varnished mast—that’s your new sailboat, Sandy, and
+I hope you enjoy it as much as I have.”
+
+Before he had finished his sentence, Sandy and Jerry were down the steep
+gangway, racing along the floating dock to where the trim, white sloop
+was tied. Russ Steele smiled, replaced his pipe in his mouth, and
+followed at a pace almost as fast as the boys’.
+
+“It’s a beauty!” Sandy panted, pushing his hair back from his eyes.
+“What slick lines! And look at how roomy the cabin is! And look at the
+height of the mast! And all that rigging!”
+
+His grin faded, and a look of bewilderment spread across his face. “Boy,
+I can sure say that again! Just look at all that rigging! How am I
+supposed to know what to do with what and when to do it, Jerry?”
+
+Jerry laughed, and jumped lightly into the small cockpit. “Come on
+board, skipper, and we’ll start your first sailing lesson by showing you
+around and telling you the names of things. It’s not half as complicated
+as it looks. In fact, this sloop rig is just about the simplest there
+is. As soon as you learn what to call things, you’ll have the hardest
+part of the lesson over with.”
+
+Sandy followed Jerry into the cockpit, then paused to turn and face his
+uncle, who was still standing on the dock. “How about you, Uncle Russ?”
+he asked. “Will you stick around for a little while and take the first
+sail with us?”
+
+“Thanks for asking, Sandy,” Russell Steele answered, “but much as I’d
+like to come along with you, I can’t manage it. I have to be back in my
+office this afternoon for an important conference. In fact, I’ll just
+about make it if I get started now. But before I get under way, and
+before you get carried away with the fine art of sailing, there are a
+few things that you’ll need to know.”
+
+He talked rapidly and uninterruptedly for about five minutes and, when
+he had finished, Sandy appreciated for the first time how thoroughly
+well-organized his Uncle Russ was. His preparations for the boys’ trip
+had been complete in every last detail. Russell Steele’s practiced
+military mind had reviewed the situation and had missed nothing that
+might be needed.
+
+The sailboat had been fully provisioned for more than a week of sailing,
+and had been equipped for every possible emergency as well as for a
+routine and pleasant cruise. The small cabin contained an alcohol
+cookstove and a good supply of canned food. Every locker and storage
+place was full, and everything put on board had been chosen with care
+and an eye for both comfort and necessity.
+
+A complete tool chest was stowed in its cubby with several boxes of
+spare hardware, ship fittings, nuts and bolts, wire and odd tackle. A
+drawer under one of the bunks contained a whole assortment of fishing
+equipment. Another carried an odd mixture of things that the boys might
+want, even including clothespins for drying garments, and a sewing kit.
+A specially made bag contained another sewing kit, this one for sails
+and canvas repair.
+
+In a narrow, hanging locker in the forward part of the cabin were two
+complete foul-weather suits consisting of waterproof pants and jackets
+with hoods. Below them were two pairs of sea boots.
+
+Opposite this was the small enclosed “head,” sailor’s word for bathroom.
+No bigger than a telephone booth, it still managed to contain a toilet
+and a sink, plus a cabinet for medicines and first-aid supplies and
+another for towels, soap, toothbrushes and the like.
+
+“The only things that you won’t find on board yet,” Russell Steele
+concluded, “are your sleeping bags and your air mattresses. I’ve ordered
+special ones that the local store didn’t have in stock, and they’re not
+due to arrive until tomorrow. For tonight, you’ll have to plan on
+sleeping ashore, but I’ve taken care of that for you, too. I’ve got a
+room reserved for you at the Cliffport Hotel. After tomorrow, you can
+sleep on board, like sailors.”
+
+He scowled at his pipe for several seconds, as if he hoped to see in it
+some hint of anything that he might have forgotten to take care of, and
+he mentally checked each item again. Sails okay? Charts and navigating
+instruments in place? Food? Tools? Spare lines? Life jackets? Oars for
+the dinghy? Cleaning equipment? Sea anchor? Everything checked out. At
+last, satisfied that all was in good order, he smiled and clamped the
+pipe in his teeth again.
+
+“I think,” he said, “the only thing I’ve forgotten is the seagoing way
+to say goodbye!”
+
+He settled for “Ahoy!” and “Smooth sailing!” and, brushing off Sandy’s
+thanks, walked briskly up the gangway without turning back.
+
+The boys watched him as he turned the corner of the main shed and walked
+out of sight, then they gave all their attention to a close survey of
+their new floating home.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER THREE
+                            Shakedown Cruise
+
+
+“Well, Jerry, what do you think of it?” Sandy asked his friend, as he
+cast a proud eye along the sleekly shaped length of the little sloop.
+
+“Not ‘it,’” Jerry said. “You should say ‘her.’ You always call boats
+‘she’ or ‘her,’ though I’ve never met a sailor who could tell you why.”
+
+Jerry looked critically down the twenty-four-foot length of the sloop.
+“She looks really seaworthy,” he said, “and she looks pretty fast, too.
+Of course, this is not a racing boat, you know. They use this kind
+mostly for day sailing and for short cruises. Even so, she looks as if
+she’ll go. Of course, we can’t really tell until we’ve tried her, and I
+don’t think we’ll be ready to try anything fast for a little while yet.”
+
+Noticing the flicker of disappointment that crossed Sandy’s face, Jerry
+added, “I’d rather have a boat like this than any racing machine ever
+built. And I’m not saying that just to make you feel better about not
+having a racer. There’s not much difference in actual speed between a
+really fast boat and an ordinary good boat of the same size. But there
+sure is a lot of difference in comfort. And I like my comfort when I go
+for a cruise.”
+
+“Why should a racing boat be uncomfortable?” Sandy asked.
+
+“It’s not uncomfortable for racing, or for day sailing,” Jerry answered,
+“but a racing boat of this size wouldn’t be fitted out for cruising at
+all. You see, to get the most speed out of a boat, designers make sure
+that the hull is kept as light as possible and as streamlined as
+possible, too. A light hull will ride with less of its surface in the
+water, and that cuts down on the amount of friction. You remember what I
+told you about friction before?”
+
+Sandy nodded, and Jerry went on. “Streamlining the hull shape helps it
+to cut through the water without making a lot of waves at the bow to
+hold it back. Not only that, but to make the boat really as fast as
+possible, most designers want to streamline the decks, too. That way,
+even the air resistance is lowered. Well, when you streamline the hull,
+you make less cabin space below. Then when you streamline the decks, you
+have to lower the cabin roof so that it’s level with the decks. You can
+see that in a small boat like this, you wind up with no cabin at all.”
+
+“I see,” Sandy said. “But how does the lightness of the hull affect
+comfort? I’m not so sure I understand that.”
+
+“When you have a light hull,” Jerry replied, “it’s a good idea to keep
+it light. If you overload it, you lose the advantage you built into it
+in the first place. That means that you can’t carry all the stuff we
+have on board to make for comfortable, safe cruising. Our bunks, the
+galley, the head, the spare anchor, all the tools and supplies—it adds
+up to a lot of weight. If you want a really fast boat, you have to leave
+all that stuff behind.”
+
+“Then if this were a racing boat,” Sandy said, “we wouldn’t have
+anything more than a small cockpit and a lot of deck, with a little
+storage space! No wonder you said you’d rather have a boat like this!
+But there’s one thing I’d still like to know. You said that there wasn’t
+much difference in real speed between a racing boat and an ordinary good
+boat. How much is ‘not much’?”
+
+Jerry thought for a minute. “Well—” he said, at length—“I’d have to know
+a lot more about boat design than I know to give you an accurate answer,
+but I can give you a rough idea. This is a twenty-four-foot boat. If it
+were a racing hull, you might get eight and a half or maybe even nine
+knots out of it under ideal conditions. For practical purposes, you can
+figure eight or less. A knot, by the way, is a nautical mile, and it’s a
+little more than a regular mile. When you say eight knots, you mean
+eight nautical miles an hour.”
+
+“But that’s not fast!” Sandy objected. “You said that’s what a fast
+racing boat would do!”
+
+Jerry smiled. “Believe me, Sandy,” he said, “when your boat is heeling
+way over and your decks are awash and your sails are straining full of
+wind, it seems like an awful lot of speed! You’ll see when we get out
+today. Besides, speed is all relative. A really dangerous speed on a
+bike would seem like a slow crawl in a car.”
+
+“I guess you’re right,” Sandy answered. “But you didn’t tell me how fast
+this boat will go, compared to a racer.”
+
+“I think we’ll get five or six knots out of her,” Jerry replied
+thoughtfully. “That’s not fast, but it’s only a couple of knots slower
+than the fastest. You see now what I mean?”
+
+Sandy nodded, then said, “I’m with you, Jerry. Now that I know a little
+bit about it, I sure think you’re right. I’d much rather have a boat we
+can sleep on and take on trips up and down the coast than a racer that
+doesn’t even go so fast! Besides, I’d be pretty foolish to think about
+any other kind of boat at all, wouldn’t I? I don’t even have the least
+idea of how to sail this one yet! Come on, Jerry, start showing me!”
+
+As Jerry carefully explained the different parts of the rigging, the
+complicated-looking series of wires and ropes around the mast began to
+look a whole lot simpler to Sandy. The first thing he learned was that
+not much of the rigging moved or was used for actual sailing of the
+boat. The parts that didn’t move were called “standing rigging,” and if
+you eliminated them from your thoughts, it made the “running rigging”
+comparatively easy to understand.
+
+“You have to learn about the rigging first,” Jerry said. “The idea is
+simple enough. The standing rigging is used to support the mast and keep
+it from bending to either side or to the front or back when the sails
+start to put pressure on it. The standing rigging is every line or cable
+you see that comes from the top of the mast or near it down to the outer
+edge of the deck or to the bow or stern.”
+
+Sandy looked about the little sloop, and noticed that this seemed to
+take care of more than half of what he saw.
+
+“The running rigging,” Jerry went on, “is used to raise and lower the
+sails and to control their position to catch the wind when you’re
+sailing. The lines that are used to raise and lower the sails on the
+mast are called halyards. They work just like the ropes on a flagpole.
+The other kind of running rigging—the lines used to control the way the
+sails set—are called sheets. You’d think that a sheet was a sail,
+wouldn’t you? It isn’t, though. It’s the line that controls a sail.”
+
+“I think I understand so far,” Sandy said, “but don’t you think it would
+be easier for me to learn if we went out for a sail and I could see
+everything working?”
+
+“Right,” Jerry said. “That’s just what I was going to say next. Telling
+you this way makes me feel too much like a schoolteacher!”
+
+Jerry decided that it would not be a good idea to try to sail away from
+the dock, because the part of the harbor they were in was so crowded.
+There would be little room to maneuver with only the light morning winds
+to help them. The best thing to do, he concluded, was to move the boat
+to a less crowded part of the harbor. At the same time, he would teach
+Sandy the way to get away from a mooring. In order to do all this, Jerry
+explained, they would row out in the dinghy, towing the sloop behind
+them. Once out in open water, they would tie the dinghy behind them and
+pull it along as they sailed.
+
+Together they unlashed the dinghy, which was resting on chocks on the
+cabin roof. Light and easy to handle, the dinghy was no trouble at all
+to launch, and in a minute it was floating alongside, looking like a
+cross between a canoe and a light-weight bathtub.
+
+Getting into the dinghy carefully, so as not to upset its delicate
+balance, they untied the sloop from the dock. Then they fastened the bow
+line of the sloop to a ring on the stern of the dinghy, got out the
+stubby oars and started to row.
+
+At first, it took some strong pulling at the oars to start the sailboat
+moving away from the dock, and Sandy feared that they would tip over the
+frail cockleshell of the dinghy. But once the sloop started to move,
+Sandy found that it took surprisingly little effort to tow it along. It
+glided easily behind them, its tall mast swaying overhead, as they rowed
+slowly out into the waters of Cliffport Bay.
+
+“We’ll find an empty mooring, and tie up for a few minutes,” Jerry said.
+“I don’t think that anyone will mind. I want to show you the method
+we’ll use most of the time for getting under way.” He pointed to the
+anchorage area, or “holding ground,” as it was called, and Sandy noticed
+several blocks of painted wood floating about. They had numbers, and
+some had small flags on them. “Those are moorings,” Jerry explained.
+“They’re just permanent anchors, with floats to mark the spot and to
+hold up the end of the mooring line. Every boat owner has his own
+mooring to come in to. The people who own these empty moorings are
+probably out sailing for the day, and we won’t interfere if we use one
+for a while.”
+
+Easing back on the oars, they let the sloop lose momentum and came to a
+natural stop near one of the moorings. They transferred the bow line
+from the dinghy to the mooring and made the sloop fast in its temporary
+berth. Then they climbed back on board and tied the dinghy behind them.
+Jerry explained that a long enough scope of line should be left for the
+dinghy so as to keep it from riding up and overtaking the sloop, as
+accidents of this sort have been known to damage the bow of a fragile
+dinghy.
+
+This done, Jerry busied himself by unlashing the boom and the rudder to
+get them ready to use, while Sandy went below for the sail bags. These
+were neatly stacked in a forward locker, each one marked with the name
+of the type of sail it contained. He selected the ones marked “main” and
+“jib,” as Jerry had asked him to, and brought them out into the cockpit.
+
+Making the mainsail ready to hoist, Sandy quickly got the knack of
+threading the sail slides onto the tracks on the mast and the boom. He
+worked at this while Jerry made the necessary adjustments to the
+halyards and fastened them to the heads of the sails. When this job was
+done, Sandy slid the foot of the sail aft along the boom, and Jerry made
+it fast with a block-and-tackle arrangement which was called the “clew
+outhaul.”
+
+“Now,” Jerry said, when they had finished, “it’s time to hoist the
+mainsail!”
+
+“What about the mooring?” Sandy asked. “Don’t you want me to untie the
+boat from it first?”
+
+“Not yet,” Jerry answered. “We won’t do that until we’re ready to go.”
+
+“But won’t we start going as soon as we pull up the mainsail?” said
+Sandy, puzzled.
+
+“No,” Jerry said. “Nothing will happen when we hoist the sail. It’s like
+raising a flag. The flag doesn’t fill with wind and pull at the flagpole
+like a sail, does it? It just points into the wind and flutters. That’s
+just what the mainsail will do. You see, the boat is already pointing
+into the wind, because the wind has swung us around on the mooring. You
+look around and you’ll see that all the boats out here are heading in
+the exact same direction, toward the wind. When we hoist the sail, it’ll
+act just like a flag, and flap around until we’re ready to use it. Then
+we’ll make it do what we want it to by using the jib and controlling its
+position with the sheets. Look.”
+
+Jerry hauled on the main halyard, and the sail slid up its tracks on the
+mast, squeaking and grating. As it reached the masthead, it fluttered
+and bellied loosely in the wind, doing nothing to make the boat move in
+any direction. Motioning to Sandy to take his place tugging at the
+halyard, Jerry jumped down into the cockpit.
+
+The halyard ran from the pointed head of the sail up through a pulley at
+the top of the mast, then down to where Sandy was hauling on it. Below
+his hands, it passed through another pulley near Sandy’s feet, then back
+along the cabin roof. Jerry, from his position in the cockpit, grabbed
+the end of the halyard and hauled tight, taking the strain from Sandy.
+Then he tied it down to a wing-shaped cleat on the cabin roof near the
+cockpit.
+
+This was done with a few expert flips of the wrist. The mainsail was up,
+and tightly secured.
+
+“There,” Jerry said. “Now we’re almost ready. We won’t move at all until
+we get the jib up, and even then we won’t move unless we want to. When
+we want to, we’ll untie from the mooring and get away as neat as you
+please.”
+
+They then took the jib out of its sail bag and made ready to hoist it.
+Instead of securing to the mast with slides on a track the way the
+mainsail had, the jib had a series of snaps stitched to its forward
+edge. These were snapped around the steel wire forestay, a part of the
+standing rigging that ran from the bow of the boat to a position high up
+on the mast. The jib halyard was fastened to the head of the jib, the
+snaps were put in place, and a few seconds of work saw the jib hanging
+in place, flapping before the mast. Then Jerry asked Sandy to pick up
+the mooring that they had tied to, and to walk aft with it.
+
+“When you walk aft with the mooring,” Jerry explained, “you actually put
+some forward motion on the boat. Then, when you get aft and I tell you
+to throw the mooring over, you put the bow a little off the wind by
+doing it.”
+
+Sandy untied the bow line from the mooring, and walked to the stern of
+the boat, holding the mooring float as he had been told. Then, when
+Jerry said “Now!” he threw the mooring over with a splash.
+
+“With the jib flying and the boat free from the mooring and no longer
+pointing directly into the wind,” Jerry said, “the wind will catch the
+jib and blow our bow even further off. At the same time, I’ll steer to
+the side instead of straight ahead. As soon as our bow is pointing
+enough away from the wind, the breeze will strike our sails from one
+side, and they’ll start to fill. When the sails have caught the wind
+right, I’ll ease off on the rudder, and we’ll be moving ahead.”
+
+By this time, the morning haze had “burned off” and the light breeze had
+freshened into a crisp, steady wind. As the head of the little sloop
+“fell away” from the direction from which the wind was coming, the sails
+swelled, the boat leaned slightly to one side, and a ripple of waves
+splashed alongside the hull. Sandy looked back and saw that the bow of
+the dinghy, trailing behind them, was beginning to cut a small white
+wave through the water.
+
+“We’re under way!” Jerry cried. “Come on over here, skipper! You take
+the tiller and learn how to steer your boat while I handle the sails and
+show you what to do!”
+
+Sandy slid over on the stern seat to take Jerry’s place, and held the
+tiller in the position he had been shown, while Jerry explained how to
+trim the sails and how to go where you wanted to go instead of where the
+wind wanted to take you.
+
+“I’ll take care of the sail trimming,” Jerry said. “All you have to do
+is keep the boat heading on the course she’s sailing now. The wind is
+pretty much at our backs and off to the starboard side. You have to keep
+it that way, and especially keep the stern from swinging around to face
+the wind directly. It’s not hard to do. Just pick a landmark and steer
+toward it.”
+
+He looked ahead to where a point of land jutted out some miles off the
+mainland. A lighthouse tower made an exclamation mark against the sky.
+
+“Just steer a little to the right of that,” he said, “and we can’t go
+wrong.”
+
+“What if the wind shifts?” Sandy asked. “How can we tell?”
+
+Jerry pointed to the masthead, where a small triangular metal flag
+swung. “Just keep an eye on that,” he said. “It’s called a hawk, and
+it’s a sailor’s weathervane.”
+
+“With one eye on the lighthouse and one eye on the masthead,” Sandy
+laughed, “I’m going to look awfully silly!”
+
+He leaned back in the stern seat with the tiller tucked under his arm.
+The little sloop headed steadily for the lighthouse, steering easily.
+Every few seconds, Sandy glanced at the hawk to check the wind. He
+grinned and relaxed. He was steering his own boat! The sail towered tall
+and white against the blue sky above him and the water gurgled alongside
+and in the wake behind where the dinghy bobbed along like a faithful
+puppy.
+
+“This is the life!” he sighed.
+
+Jerry pointed out a handsome, white-hulled, two-masted boat approaching
+them. “Isn’t that a beauty?” he said. “It’s a ketch. On a ketch, the
+mainmast is taller than the mizzen. That’s how you tell the difference.”
+
+“How do you tell the difference between the mainmast and the mizzen?”
+Sandy asked. “You’re going to have to start with the simplest stuff with
+me.”
+
+“The mainmast is always the one in front, and the mizzen is always the
+one aft,” Jerry explained. “A ketch has a taller main; a schooner has a
+taller mizzen; a yawl is the same as a ketch, except that the mizzen is
+set aft of the tiller. Got it?”
+
+Sandy shook his head and wondered if he would ever get all of this
+straight in his head. It was enough trying to learn the names of things
+on his own boat without worrying about the names of everything on other
+boats in the bay.
+
+As the ketch sailed by, the man at her tiller waved a friendly greeting.
+The boys waved back and Sandy watched the big ketch go smoothly past,
+wondering how much harder it might be to sail a two-masted boat of that
+size than it was to sail a relatively small sloop such as his own.
+Certainly it could not be as simple as the sloop, he thought. Why this
+little sailboat was a whole lot easier than it had seemed to be at
+first. As a matter of fact....
+
+“Duck your head!” Jerry yelled.
+
+Not even stopping to think, Sandy dropped his head just in time to avoid
+being hit by the boom, which whizzed past barely a few inches above him!
+With a sharp crack of ropes and canvas, the sail filled with wind on the
+opposite side of the boat from where it had been a moment before, and
+the sloop heeled violently in the same direction. Jerry grabbed at the
+tiller, hauled in rapidly on the mainsheet, and set a new course. Then,
+calming down, he explained to Sandy what had happened.
+
+“We jibed,” he said. “That means that you let the wind get directly
+behind us and then on the wrong side of us. The mainsail got the wind on
+the back of it, and the wind took it around to the other side of the
+boat. Because the sheets were let out all the way, there was nothing to
+restrain the sail from moving, and by the time it got over, it was going
+at a pretty fast clip. You saw the results!”
+
+Jerry adjusted the mainsail to a better position relative to the wind,
+trimming it carefully to keep it from bagging, then he went on to
+explain. “A jibe can only happen when you’ve got the wind at your back.
+That’s called sailing downwind, or sailing before the wind, or running
+free. It’s the most dangerous point of sail, because of the chance of
+jibing. When the wind is strong, an uncontrolled jibe like the one we
+just took can split your sails, or ruin your rigging, or even snap your
+boom or your mast. Not to mention giving you a real bad headache if
+you’re in the way of that boom!”
+
+“I can just imagine,” Sandy said, thinking of the force with which the
+boom had whizzed by. Then he added, “You said something about an
+‘uncontrolled jibe,’ I think. Does that mean that there’s some way to
+control it?”
+
+“I should have said an accidental jibe instead of an uncontrolled one,”
+Jerry said. “A deliberate or planned jibe is always controlled, and it’s
+a perfectly safe and easy maneuver. All you have to do is to haul in on
+the sheet, so that the boom won’t have any room for free swinging. Then
+you change your course to the new tack, let out the sail, and you’re off
+with no trouble.”
+
+Sandy grinned. “I’m afraid that description went over my head as fast as
+the boom did—only a whole lot higher up!”
+
+“Things always sound complicated when you describe them,” Jerry said,
+“but we’ll do a couple later, and you’ll see how it works.”
+
+“Fine,” Sandy agreed. “But until we do, how can I keep from doing any
+more of the accidental variety?”
+
+“The only way to avoid jibing,” Jerry replied, “is never to let the wind
+blow from the same side that the sail is set on. This means that if you
+feel the wind shift over that way, you have to alter your course quickly
+to compensate for it. If you don’t want to alter your course, then you
+have to do a deliberate jibe and alter the direction of the sail. All it
+means is that you have to keep alert at the tiller, and keep an eye on
+the hawk, the way I told you, so that you always know which direction
+the wind is blowing from.”
+
+“I guess I was getting too much confidence a lot too soon,” Sandy
+admitted, shamefaced. “There’s obviously a lot more to this sailing
+business than I was beginning to think. Anyway, a jibe is one thing I
+won’t let happen again. I’ll stop looking at other boats for a while,
+and pay more attention to this one! There’s more than enough to look at
+here, I guess.”
+
+Once more, Sandy cautiously took the tiller from Jerry. Then he grinned
+ruefully and said, “Just do me one favor, will you, Jerry?”
+
+“Sure. What?”
+
+“Just don’t call me ‘skipper’ any more. Not for a while, at least!”
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER FOUR
+                          The Man with the Gun
+
+
+“Just keep her sailing on this downwind course,” Jerry said. “Head for
+that lighthouse the way you were before, and keep an occasional eye on
+the hawk. As long as the wind isn’t dead astern, we shouldn’t have any
+more jibing troubles. As soon as we get out into open water, we’ll find
+an easier point of sail. We can’t do that until we’re clear of the
+channel, though. When we are, we’ll reach for a while, and then I’ll
+show you how to beat.”
+
+“What’s reaching?” Sandy asked. “And what’s beating? And how do you know
+when we’re out of the channel into open water? And how do you even know
+for sure that we’re in the channel now? And how....”
+
+“Whoa! Wait a minute! Let’s take one question at a time. A reach is when
+you’re sailing with the wind coming more from the side than from in
+front or from behind the boat. Beating is when the wind is more in front
+than on the side, and you have to sail into it. Beating is more like
+work than fun, but a reach is the fastest and easiest kind of a course
+to sail. That’s why I want to reach as soon as we’re out in open water
+where we can pick our direction without having to worry about channel
+markers.”
+
+“How come reaching is the fastest kind of course to sail?” Sandy asked.
+“I would have guessed that sailing downwind with the wind pushing the
+boat ahead of it would be the fastest.”
+
+“It sure seems as if it ought to work that way,” Jerry said with a grin.
+“But you’ll find that sailboat logic isn’t always so simple or easy.
+When you’re running free in front of the wind, you can only go as fast
+as the wind is blowing. When you’re reaching, you can actually sail a
+lot faster than the wind.”
+
+“I’m afraid that I don’t understand that,” Sandy said. “How does it
+work?”
+
+Jerry paused and thought for a minute. “You remember what Quiz said
+about the sailboat working like an airplane? Well, he made it sound
+pretty tough to understand, what with all his formulas and proportions,
+but actually he was right. A sail is a lot like an airplane wing, except
+that it’s standing up on end instead of sticking out to one side. Well,
+you know that the propellers on a plane make wind, and that the plane
+flies straight into that wind. You see, the wind that comes across the
+wing makes a vacuum on top of the wing surface, and the plane is drawn
+up into the vacuum. You get a lot more lift that way than if the
+propellers were under the wing and blowing straight up on the bottom of
+it.”
+
+“I see that,” Sandy said. “And a propeller blowing under a wing would be
+pretty much the same as a wind blowing at the back of a sail. Right?”
+
+“Right!” Jerry said, looking pleased with his teaching ability. “Now you
+have the idea. When you have a sail, like a wing standing up, the air
+that passes over the sail makes a vacuum in front and pulls the boat
+forward into it. Actually, the vacuum pulls us forward and to one side,
+the same as the wind from the propeller makes the plane go forward and
+up. We use the rudder and the keel to keep us going more straight than
+sideways.”
+
+Sandy shook his head as if to clear away cobwebs. “I think that I
+understand now, but it’s still a little hazy in my mind. Maybe I’ll do
+better if you don’t tell me about the theory, and I just see the way it
+works.”
+
+“Could be,” Jerry said. “There are lots of old-time fishermen and other
+fine sailors who have absolutely no idea of how their boats work, and
+who wouldn’t know a law of physics or a principle of aerodynamics if it
+sat on their mastheads and yelled at them like a sea gull! They just do
+what comes naturally, and they know the way to handle a boat without
+worrying about what makes it run.”
+
+Still heading on their downwind course, they passed several small
+islands and rocks, some marked with lights and towers, some with bells
+or floating buoys. They seemed to slide by gracefully as the little
+sloop left the mainland farther behind in its wake.
+
+“Before we get out of the channel,” Jerry said, “I want to show you some
+of the channel markers and tell you about how to read them. They’re the
+road signs of the harbors, and if you know what they mean and what to do
+about them, you’ll never get in any trouble when it comes to finding
+your way in and out of a port.”
+
+He pointed to a nearby marker that was shaped like a pointed rocket nose
+cone floating in the water. It was painted a bright red, and on its side
+in white was painted a large number 4.
+
+“That’s called a nun buoy,” Jerry told Sandy. “Now look over there. Do
+you see that black buoy shaped just like an oversized tin can? That’s
+called a can buoy. The cans and the nuns mark the limits of the channel,
+and they tell you to steer between them. The rule is, when you’re
+leaving a harbor, to keep the red nun buoys on your port side. That’s
+the left side. When you’re entering a harbor, keep the red nun buoys on
+your starboard side. The best way to remember it is by the three R’s of
+offshore navigating: ‘Red Right Returning.’”
+
+Sandy nodded. “I understand that all right,” he said. “But what are the
+numbers for?”
+
+“The numbers are to tell you how far from the harbor you are,” Jerry
+said. “Red nun buoys are always even-numbered, and black cans are always
+odd-numbered. They run in regular sequence, and they start from the
+farthest buoy out from the shore. For example, we just sailed past red
+nun buoy number 4. That means that the next can we see will be marked
+number 3, and it will be followed by a number 2 nun and a number 1 can.
+After we pass the number 1 can, we’ll be completely out of the channel,
+and we’ll have open water to sail in.”
+
+“Do they have the same kind of markers everywhere,” Sandy asked, “or do
+you have to learn them specially for each port that you sail in?”
+
+“You’ll find the same marks in almost every place in the world,” Jerry
+said. “But you won’t have to worry about the world for a long while. The
+important thing is that the marking and buoyage system is the same exact
+standard for every port in the United States and Canada.”
+
+“What’s that striped can I see floating over there?” Sandy asked,
+pointing.
+
+Jerry looked at the buoy. “That’s a special marker,” he answered. “All
+of the striped buoys have some special meaning, and it’s usually marked
+on the charts. They’re mostly used to mark a junction of two channels,
+or a middle ground, or an obstruction of some kind. You can sail to
+either side of them, but you shouldn’t go too close. At least that’s the
+rule for the horizontally striped ones. The markers with vertical
+stripes show the middle of the channel, and you’re supposed to pass them
+as close as you can, on either side.”
+
+Another few minutes of sailing brought them past the last red buoy, and
+they were clear of the marked channel. From here on they were free to
+sail as they wanted, in any direction they chose to try.
+
+For the next hour they practiced reaching. With the wind blowing
+steadily from the starboard side, the trim sloop leaned far to the port
+until the waves were creaming almost up to the level of the deck. Jerry
+explained that this leaning position, called “heeling,” was the natural
+and proper way for a sailboat to sit in the water. The only way that a
+boat could sail level, he pointed out, was before the wind. With the
+boat heeling sharply and the sails and the rigging pulled tight in the
+brisk breeze, Sandy really began to feel the sense of speed on the
+water, and understood what Jerry had told him about speed being
+relative.
+
+After they had practiced on a few long reaches, Jerry showed Sandy how
+to beat or point, which is the art of sailing more or less straight into
+the wind.
+
+“Of course you can’t ever sail straight into the wind,” Jerry said. “The
+best you can do is come close. If you head right into it, the sails will
+just flap around the way that they did when we were pointing into the
+wind at the mooring. You’ve got to sail a little to one side.”
+
+“Suppose you don’t want to go to one side?” Sandy asked. “If the wind is
+blowing straight from the place you want to get to, what do you do about
+it?”
+
+“You have to compromise,” Jerry replied. “You’ll never get there by
+aiming the boat in that direction. What you have to do is sail for a
+point to one side of it for a while, then come about and sail for a
+point on the other side of it for a while. It’s a kind of long zigzag
+course. You call it tacking. Each leg of the zigzag is called a tack.”
+
+Sailing into the wind, they tacked first on one side, then on the other.
+Each time they came about onto a new tack, the mainsail was shifted to
+the other side of the boat, and the boat heeled in the same direction as
+the sail. The jib came about by itself, just by loosening one sheet and
+taking up on the other one. Soon Sandy was used to the continual
+shifting and resetting of the sails, and to the boom passing back and
+forth overhead.
+
+Suddenly Sandy pointed and clapped Jerry on the shoulder with
+excitement. “Look!” he cried. “There’s a whole fleet of boats coming
+this way! They look just like ours! And they’re racing!”
+
+Jerry looked up in surprise. “They sure are racing! And they are just
+like this one! I guess I was wrong when I said they didn’t race this
+kind of boat. This must be a local class, built to specifications for
+local race rules. Boy, look at them go! I was wrong about not racing
+them, but I sure was right when I said that she looked fast!”
+
+The fleet of sloops swept past, heeling sharply to one side, with the
+crews perched on the high sides as live ballast, and the water foaming
+white along the low decks which were washed over completely every moment
+or so. The helmsmen on the nearest of the boats grinned at them and
+waved an invitation to come along and join the regatta, but neither
+Jerry nor Sandy felt quite up to sailing a race just yet.
+
+As they watched their white-sailed sisters fly down the bay, Sandy felt
+for the first time the excitement that could come from handling a boat
+really well. He turned to his own trim craft with renewed determination
+to learn everything that Jerry could teach him, and maybe, in due time,
+a whole lot more than that.
+
+The next few hours were spent in happily exploring Cliffport Bay and
+trying the sloop on a variety of tacks and courses to learn what she
+would do. Eventually, the sun standing high above the mast, they
+realized almost at the same time that it was definitely time for lunch.
+
+Jerry took the helm and the sheet while Sandy went below to see what the
+boat’s food locker could supply. In a few minutes, he poked his head out
+of the cabin hatch and shook it sadly at Jerry. “It looks as if Uncle
+Russ didn’t think of everything, after all. There’s plenty of food all
+right, but there’s not a thing on board to drink. The water jugs are
+here, but they’re bone-dry, and I’m not exactly up to eating peanut
+butter sandwiches without something to wash them down!”
+
+“Me either!” said Jerry, shuddering a little at the thought. “Of course,
+we could settle on some of the juice from the canned fruits I saw in
+there, but we haven’t taken on any ice for our ice chest, and that’s all
+going to be pretty warm. In any case, we ought to have some water on
+board. I think we’d better look for a likely place near shore where we
+can drop anchor. Then we can take the dinghy in to one of the beach
+houses and fill up our jugs.”
+
+“Good idea,” Sandy agreed. “And that way we can eat while we’re at
+anchor, and not have to worry about sailing and eating at the same
+time.”
+
+Several small islands not too far away had houses on them, and the boys
+decided to set a course for the nearest one. As they drew near, they saw
+a sunny white house sitting on the crest of a small rise about a hundred
+yards back from the water. Below the house, a well-protected and
+pleasant-looking cove offered a good place for an anchorage. A floating
+dock was secured to a high stone pier, from which a path could be seen
+leading up to the house. It looked like an almost perfect summer place,
+set in broad green lawns, with several old shade trees near the house
+and with a general atmosphere of well-being radiating from everything.
+
+They glided straight into the little cove, then suddenly put the rudder
+over hard and brought the sloop sharply up into the wind. The sails
+flapped loosely, and the boat lost some of its headway, then glided
+slowly to a stop.
+
+On the bow, Sandy stood ready with the anchor, waiting for Jerry to tell
+him when to lower it. As the boat began to move a little astern, backing
+in the headwind, Jerry told Sandy to let the anchor down slowly.
+
+“You never drop an anchor, or throw it over the side. After all, you
+want the anchor to tip over, and to drive a hook into the bottom. It
+won’t do that if it’s just dropped.”
+
+When Sandy felt the anchor touch the bottom, he pulled back gently on
+the anchor line until he felt the hook take hold. Then, leading the line
+through the fair lead at the bow, he tied it securely to a cleat on the
+deck.
+
+Loosening the halyards, they dropped first the jib and then the
+mainsail, rolled them neatly, and secured them with strips of sailcloth,
+called stops. Jerry pointed out that it was not necessary to remove the
+slides and snaps. That way, he explained, it would only be a matter of
+minutes to get under way when they wanted to. With the last stop tied
+and the boom and the rudder lashed to keep them from swinging, the sloop
+was all shipshape at anchor, rocking gently on the swell about fifty
+yards from the end of the floating dock.
+
+“Let’s row the dinghy in to the dock and see if we can find somebody on
+shore,” Jerry suggested. “Of course, with no boats in here, there might
+not be anyone on the island right now, but I think that I saw a well up
+by the house, and I’m sure that no one would mind if we helped ourselves
+to a little water.”
+
+But Jerry was wrong on both counts. There was somebody on the island,
+and he looked far from hospitable. In fact, the tall man who came
+striding down the path to the float where the boys already had the
+dinghy headed was carrying a rifle—and, what was more, he looked
+perfectly ready to use it at any minute!
+
+“Turn back!” he shouted, as he reached the edge of the stone pier. “Turn
+back, I tell you, or I’ll shoot that dinghy full of holes and sink it
+right out from under you!” He raised the rifle deliberately to his
+shoulder and sighted down its length at the boys.
+
+“Wait a minute!” Sandy shouted back. “You’re making a mistake! We just
+need to get some water to drink! We don’t mean any harm!”
+
+The man lowered his rifle, but looked no friendlier than before. “I
+don’t care what you want,” he called, “but you can just sail off and get
+it some other place! This is my island and my cove. They’re both private
+property, and you’re trespassing here! Now turn that dinghy around and
+get back to your sailboat and go!”
+
+This speech finished, he raised his rifle to the firing position once
+more and aimed it at the dinghy.
+
+“All right, mister!” Jerry yelled back at him. “We’ll get going! But
+when we get back to the mainland, you can bet that we’re going to report
+you to the Coast Guard for your failure to give assistance! I’m not sure
+what they can do about it, but they sure ought to know that there’s a
+character like you around here! Maybe they’ll mark it on the charts, so
+that sailors in trouble won’t waste their time coming in here for help!”
+
+As the boys started to turn the dinghy about, they heard a shout from
+the man on the pier. “Wait a minute!” he called. “There’s no need to get
+so upset. I’m sorry—but I guess I made a mistake after all. Row on in to
+the float and I’ll get you some water.”
+
+Not at all sure that they were doing the wisest thing, but not wanting
+to anger the strange rifleman by not doing what he had suggested, they
+decided to risk coming to shore. After all, Sandy reasoned, he hadn’t
+actually threatened to shoot _them_—just the dinghy—and he couldn’t do
+much more harm from close up than from where they were. Besides, both
+boys were curious about the man and his island. They rowed to the
+floating dock and made the dinghy fast to a cleat.
+
+“I’m sorry, boys,” the man with the rifle said pleasantly. “It’s just
+that I’ve been bothered in the past by kids landing here for picnics and
+swimming parties when I’m not here. They leave the beach a mess, and one
+gang actually broke into the house once, and stole some things. That’s
+why I don’t like kids coming around. I thought you were more of the
+same, but I figured you were all right when you said that you’d report
+to the Coast Guard. Those other kids stay as far away from the Coast
+Guard and the Harbor Police as they can.”
+
+He smiled apologetically, but as Sandy started to climb up from the
+dinghy to the floating dock, his expression hardened once more.
+
+“I said that I’d get you some water,” he said, “but I didn’t invite you
+to come ashore and help yourselves to it. You just stay right where you
+are in that dinghy, and hand me up your water jars. I’ll fill them up
+for you, and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
+
+More than a little puzzled, Jerry and Sandy handed up their two soft
+plastic gallon jugs. Their “host” took them under one arm, leaving the
+other hand free for his rifle which he carried with a finger lying
+alongside of the trigger. Without a word, the island’s owner walked off.
+
+“I wonder what’s the matter with him,” Jerry said.
+
+“I don’t know,” Sandy replied, “but whatever it is, we’d better do what
+he says, or something pretty bad might be the matter with us!”
+
+Halfway up the path to the house, the tall man stopped, turned back, and
+looked hard at the boys before continuing on up the hill.
+
+“Mind you do just what I said!” he shouted back over his shoulder. “You
+just stay in that dinghy, and don’t get any fancy ideas about exploring
+around. If I find you ashore, I’m still as ready as ever to use this
+gun!”
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER FIVE
+                              Storm Fears
+
+
+Unpredictable as the wind, the man was all smiles when he returned with
+the two jars filled with water. But he still had his gun.
+
+“I’m glad to see you stayed put in your dinghy,” he said. “I kept an eye
+on you from the hill.” He handed down the plastic jugs to Sandy and
+added, “Sorry I acted so gruff, but you know how it is. I live all alone
+out here, and even though the island is only a little over a half mile
+from the mainland it’s a pretty isolated spot. I have to be careful of
+strangers. But I should have seen right away that you boys are all
+right.”
+
+“Thanks,” said Sandy. “And thanks for filling our water jugs. We’re
+sorry we bothered you.”
+
+They cast the dinghy free, rowed quickly back to the sloop and, as fast
+as they could manage it, raised the anchor, hoisted the sails and
+skimmed out of the cove. As they rounded the rocky point that marked the
+entrance to the cove, they looked back to where the island’s lone
+inhabitant was standing on the dock, watching them out of sight, his
+rifle still held ready at his hip.
+
+“Boy, that’s a strange one!” Sandy said. “I wonder what he’s hiding on
+that island of his—a diamond mine?”
+
+“You never can tell,” Jerry replied, “but it’s probably nothing at all.
+I guess the kind of man who would want to live all alone on an island
+away from people is bound to be pretty crazy about getting all the
+privacy he can. And as far as I’m concerned, he can have it. From now
+on, if we need anything, let’s head for the mainland!”
+
+Dismissing the mysterious rifleman from their minds, they set out once
+more to enjoy the pleasures of a brisk wind, blue sky and a trim boat.
+
+The afternoon went swiftly by as Sandy learned more and more about
+handling his boat, and about the boats they saw sailing near them. Jerry
+pointed out the different types of boats, explaining more fully than
+before that the ones with one mast were called sloops, the two-masted
+boats were called yawls, ketches and schooners. Telling one from the
+other was a matter of knowing the arrangement of masts. The ketches had
+tall mainmasts and shorter mizzens behind them. The yawls had even
+shorter mizzens, set as far aft as possible. Schooners, with taller
+mizzen than main, were relatively rare.
+
+Jerry also pointed to varied types of one-masted boats. Not all of them,
+he told Sandy, were sloops, though most were. The sloops had their mast
+stepped about one third back from the bow. Cutters had their mast
+stepped nearly in the center of the boat. In addition, they saw a few
+catboats, with their single masts stepped nearly in the bows.
+
+Learning all this, plus trying to absorb all that Jerry was telling him
+about harbor markers, sail handling, steering, types of sails and
+conditions under which each sail is used, Sandy found the time flying
+by. Almost before he realized it, the sun was beginning to set and the
+boats around them were all heading back up the channel to find their
+moorings and tie up for the night.
+
+Everywhere they looked, the roadstead of Cliffport Bay was as busy as a
+highway. Sailboats of every description, outboard motorboats, big cabin
+cruisers, high-powered motor racers, rowboats, canoes, sailing canoes,
+kayaks, power runabouts, fishing excursion boats and dozens of other
+craft were making their way to shore.
+
+The afternoon, which had started so brightly, had become overcast, and
+the sun glowed sullenly behind a low bank of clouds. The breeze which
+had been steady but light during the late afternoon hours, suddenly
+picked up force and became a fairly hard wind. It felt cold and damp
+after the hot day. Joining the homebound pleasure fleet, Sandy and Jerry
+picked their way through the now crowded harbor, back to Cliffport Boat
+Yard.
+
+They arrived in a murky twilight, just a few minutes before the time
+when it would have become necessary for them to light the lanterns for
+the red and green running lights demanded by the International Rules of
+the Road.
+
+The boys decided to drop anchor in the boat yard’s mooring area, rather
+than tow the boat back to the float where it had been tied. This would
+make it unnecessary to tow the sloop out again for the next day’s
+sailing, when they would start on the long trip home.
+
+They dropped the sails, removed their slides and snaps on mast, boom and
+forestay, and carefully folded them for replacement in the sail bags.
+These were stowed below in their locker just forward of the cabin. Then
+Sandy and Jerry turned their attention to getting the boat ready for the
+night.
+
+Sandy helped Jerry rest the boom in its “crutch,” a piece of wood shaped
+like the letter _Y_, which was placed standing upright in a slot in the
+stern seat. This kept the boom from swinging loose when the boat was
+unattended, and thus protected both the boat, the boom and the rigging
+from damage. All the running gear was then lashed down or coiled and put
+away, the sliding cabin door and hatch cover were closed in place, and
+the sloop was ready to be left.
+
+“That’s what’s meant by ‘shipshape,’” Jerry said with satisfaction.
+
+As the boys rowed the dinghy back to the float, they felt the first fat
+drops of rain and they noticed how choppy the still waters of the bay
+had become. Jerry cast a sailor’s eye at the ominously darkening sky.
+
+“That’s more than evening coming on,” he said. “Unless I miss my guess,
+we’re in for a good storm tonight. To tell you the truth, I’m glad we’re
+staying ashore!”
+
+They lifted the dinghy from the water, turned it over on the float and
+placed the stubby oars below it. Then, picking up their sea bags, they
+ran for the shelter of the shed as the first torrential downpour of the
+storm washed Cliffport in a solid sheet of blinding rain.
+
+
+Later that night, after a change of clothes, dinner, and a movie at
+Cliffport’s only theater, the boys sat on their beds in the hotel room
+and listened to the howling fury of the storm. Raindrops rattled on the
+windowpanes like hailstones, and through the tossing branches of a tree
+they could see the riding lights of a few boats in the harbor, rocking
+violently to and fro. As they watched, the wind sent a large barrel
+bowling down the street to smash against a light pole, bounce off and
+roll, erratic as a kicked football, out of sight around a corner.
+
+“It’s a good thing we anchored out,” Jerry said, watching this evidence
+of the storm’s power. “The boat could really have gotten banged up
+against the float if we had tied it up where it was before!”
+
+“Do you think it’ll be safe where it is now?” Sandy asked anxiously.
+
+“Oh, a little wind and water won’t bother a good boat,” Jerry answered.
+“After all, it was made for wind and water! Still....” He scowled and
+shook his head doubtfully.
+
+“Still what?” Sandy said with alarm. “Is there something wrong with the
+way we left it?”
+
+“Not really,” Jerry said. “I’m just worried about one thing. We’re not
+tied to a permanent mooring, the way the other boats around here are.
+That means that we might drag anchor in a storm as bad as this one, and
+if we happen to drag into deep water where the anchor can’t reach the
+bottom, the boat could drift a long ways off until it hooked onto
+something again. And there’s always the chance that it could get washed
+up on the rocks somewhere, first!”
+
+With this unhappy thought in mind, the boys stared out the window for
+some time in silence as the storm continued unchecked. Finally, knowing
+that worry couldn’t possibly help, and that a good night’s sleep would
+prepare them to meet whatever the morning would bring, they turned out
+the lights and went to bed.
+
+But, for Sandy, bed was one thing—sleep was another. Although Jerry
+managed to drop off to slumber in no time, Sandy lay a long time awake
+staring at the shadows of the tossing tree on the ceiling of the hotel
+room.
+
+His mind was full of the events of the crowded day. It had been quite a
+day, starting with the ride in his uncle’s sports car, and proceeding to
+the new boat and learning to sail. Then the mysterious man on the
+island, keeping guard with his ever-present rifle, and concluding with a
+night of powerful storm. He reviewed all this, and mixed with his
+recollection his new worries about the safety of his boat. A series of
+images crowded his mind—a vision of the smart sloop lying smashed
+against some rocky piece of shore was mingled with a memory of the
+pleasures of his first day of sailing; and somewhere, behind and around
+all of his thoughts, was the unpleasantly frightening memory of the man
+with the gun, waiting on his hermit’s island.
+
+All of this mingled in his mind with the sound of the storm until Sandy
+slipped into an uncertain, restless sleep—a sleep filled with vague,
+shadowy dreams, connected only by a sense that somewhere, something was
+wrong.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER SIX
+                    Something Lost—Something Found!
+
+
+The next morning, when Sandy and Jerry awoke, the storm that had lashed
+Cliffport had vanished as if it, too, had been a bad dream.
+
+Cliffport’s Main Street, which fronted the bay, was washed clean, and
+sparkled in the bright morning light. The bay waters themselves even
+looked cleaner than before, freshly laundered blue and white, with
+silver points of sunlight sprinkled over their peaceful surface. It was,
+in short, a perfect sailing day, and the boys could hardly wait to get
+down to the boat yard to see if the sloop had ridden the storm at
+anchor.
+
+They dressed hurriedly in their sailing clothes—blue jeans, sneakers and
+sweat shirts—and bolted breakfast in the hotel coffee shop. Then, sea
+bags slung over their shoulders, they raced down the street to the
+Cliffport Boat Yard, rounded the corner of the main shed and, at the
+head of the gangway, came to a stop.
+
+Sandy felt a sick, sinking feeling as he scanned the mooring area,
+searching vainly for a sight of his sloop. But where she had ridden at
+anchor the night before, there was only a patch of calm blue water.
+
+It hardly seemed possible that she wasn’t there. The storm, on this
+bright, sunny morning, seemed never to have happened. Other boats rode
+peacefully at their moorings, apparently untouched by the night’s wild
+work. Life in the boat yard and on the bay went on as if nothing had
+occurred. But Sandy felt as if it were the end of the world.
+
+Slowly and silently, the boys walked down the gangway to where their
+dinghy lay like a turtle, unharmed. They anxiously scanned the bay on
+all sides, searching for a mast that might be theirs, but to no avail.
+Then Jerry straightened up and clapped Sandy on the shoulder.
+
+“Come on,” he said. “There’s no use standing here moping. The only thing
+to do now is to take out the dinghy and start to hunt.”
+
+They launched the dinghy, put out the stubby oars, and rowed away from
+the float.
+
+“Where do we look first?” Sandy asked.
+
+“We’ll just go the way the wind went,” Jerry said. “Luckily, the storm
+came from the mainland and blew out to sea. That means there’s a good
+chance that the boat didn’t pile up on the shore. Of course, there are a
+lot of islands out there, and plenty of rocks, but there’s a lot more
+open water. With any luck we’ll find her floating safe and sound,
+somewhere out in the bay. I don’t think she could have gone too far
+dragging that anchor.”
+
+They headed down the channel, taking occasional side excursions around
+some of the small islands whenever they saw, on the other side, a mast
+that could be theirs. But none of the boats they found was the right
+one. The hot sun made rowing even the light cockleshell of the dinghy
+unpleasant work. Sandy paused at the oars and pushed back his cowlick,
+then wiped his perspiring brow. He was beginning to fear that he would
+never again see his trim new sloop—unless he was to see it lying
+shattered on one of these rocky islands. Then, with dogged
+determination, he picked up his oars once more and bent his back to the
+task of rowing.
+
+Once or twice they asked passing sailors if they had seen an unattended
+sloop out of the mooring areas, but though everyone offered sympathy and
+promised to help if they happened to see it, none had any information to
+offer.
+
+The morning wore on slowly as Sandy and Jerry pulled farther and farther
+away from the mainland, exploring every possible hiding place the bay
+had to offer.
+
+By noon, Sandy’s spirits were at low ebb, and he was beginning to wonder
+how he would tell his Uncle Russ the bad news. Then, almost tipping the
+unsteady dinghy, Jerry half rose from his seat and pointed. “Look!” he
+shouted. “Over there! I think that’s her! And will you look at where she
+drifted to!”
+
+Sandy dropped the oars and turned to look at the small white sloop with
+the green decks that lay quietly bobbing at anchor just outside the
+entrance of the cove where, yesterday, they had been welcomed by a gun!
+
+“Of all places to drift to,” he gasped. “It’s a darn good thing she
+didn’t drift inside his cove, or she might be shot full of holes by
+now!”
+
+Then, with a lighter heart than he had felt all morning, Sandy picked up
+the oars and sent the dinghy fairly flying to the side of the trim
+sloop.
+
+“From now on,” he said, “sleeping bags and air mattresses or not, we’re
+sleeping on board until we get a permanent mooring for this boat near
+home!” Relieved and happy, Sandy climbed on board as Jerry tied the
+dinghy to the stern.
+
+“I’ll go below to get the sails out,” Sandy said, “while you unship the
+boom and get the rigging ready.”
+
+He opened the hatch cover and slid back the doors, then stepped down
+into the little cabin. As he started forward to the sail lockers, he had
+a sudden, odd feeling that something was wrong, something out of place;
+a strange notion that he had seen, out of the corner of his eye,
+something that was not what it should have been.
+
+Pausing to look around, he saw what had bothered him. Clamped to the
+bulkhead over the port bunk was a large, oddly shaped brass pistol, like
+the kind he had always imagined the old-time pirates carried. He had
+never seen anything like it before—and he was almost positive that it
+had not been there yesterday!
+
+“Jerry!” he called, sticking his head out of the hatch. “Come here! I
+want you to see something and tell me what you think.” As Jerry poked
+his head into the cabin, Sandy gestured at the brass pistol. “Was that
+thing here yesterday, or have we gotten into somebody else’s boat?”
+
+Jerry brought his dark brows together in a frown and scratched his
+crew-cut head. “I don’t think it was here. I probably would have noticed
+it. But maybe we just didn’t see it. We were so busy with other things.”
+
+“But why would Uncle Russ have left a pistol on board?” Sandy asked,
+puzzled.
+
+“He probably wouldn’t have,” Jerry said. “But he might have left one of
+these. That’s a flare gun, not a regular pistol at all. You use it as a
+signal of distress. It shoots a rocket. Still ... I don’t remember
+seeing it. And I know that your uncle didn’t mention leaving one.”
+
+“Well, I don’t know whether he did or not,” Sandy said, “but we’d better
+make sure this is our boat before we go sailing it off. If it belongs to
+that guy on the island, we could get into some pretty bad trouble if we
+took it by mistake!”
+
+As they looked for some identifying marks, an idea suddenly occurred to
+Sandy. “Maybe this isn’t our boat, but one just like it, and maybe the
+man with the gun was expecting it with somebody else on board! That
+might explain his actions!”
+
+“That makes sense,” Jerry said. “And in that case, we’d better find out
+fast if it’s ours. Look—our boat didn’t have any name on it, and most
+boats do. If this has a name, we’ll know.” He hurried to the stern to
+see, and then to the bow, where some boat owners fasten name plates, but
+none was to be seen.
+
+“That doesn’t prove anything, though,” Sandy said. “But I have an idea.
+Let’s look in the food locker. I remember pretty well what was in there
+yesterday, and I doubt if two boats would have the identical food
+supplies. One look should tell us.” He reached above the galley stove
+and slid back the doors of the locker, then stepped backward as if he
+had been hit.
+
+“It’s sure not our boat,” Sandy said in hushed tones, for in the locker
+there was no food at all. Instead, where food should have been, was what
+appeared to be a fortune in fresh, green money!
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER SEVEN
+                  A Million Dollars’ Worth of Trouble
+
+
+Sandy and Jerry, stunned for the moment, stood in silence, gazing at the
+neatly wrapped stacks of tens, twenties, fifties, hundreds and
+five-hundred-dollar bills—more money than either of them had ever
+dreamed of!
+
+“I don’t know whose boat this is,” Sandy said, “but whoever he is, he
+can sure afford a larger one!”
+
+Awed by the sight of the money, Jerry reached out and slipped a
+five-hundred-dollar bill from its wrapper. “I just want to look at it
+for a minute,” he said. “I’ve never seen a five-hundred before!”
+
+Sandy joined him to look at the crisp bill. “Neither have I,” he said.
+Then, stooping to look closer, he took the bill from Jerry’s hand and
+examined it with the most intense interest.
+
+“Jerry!” he said, almost in a whisper. “I think we’ve found more than a
+stack of money in a peculiar place! I may be mistaken, but I think this
+thing is counterfeit!”
+
+“Counterfeit!” Jerry said, with a gasp. “How can you tell, if you never
+saw a five-hundred-dollar bill before?”
+
+“Come on over into the sunlight where we can see better,” Sandy replied,
+“and I’ll show you what I mean.” They moved to the rear of the little
+cabin, where the sun poured in through the open hatchway cover. Sandy
+held the money up to the light.
+
+“Look at the corners,” he said, pointing to the lower right-hand corner
+of the bill. “You see all those fine hair lines that make the looping,
+criss-cross pattern you see on all paper money? Well, I read once that
+those loops and swirls are the hardest part of a bill to counterfeit,
+and if you’re on the lookout for phony money you should always look
+there first. Ones or one-thousands, they’re all very complicated to
+engrave. On a genuine bill the lines are sharp and clear. On a
+counterfeit, they’re usually a little fuzzy, especially where two lines
+cross. Look over here, right next to the five-hundred-dollar mark, for
+instance.”
+
+He pointed to where a complicated series of fine lines that came
+together had made a small smear, instead of a sharp, well-defined
+pattern.
+
+“You’d never find sloppy work like that on a genuine government bill,”
+Sandy said, pointing to this and to another telltale spot his sharp eyes
+had uncovered.
+
+“I see what you mean,” Jerry said. “Boy, there must be more than a
+million dollars’ worth of this useless stuff in that food locker!”
+
+“It’s not so useless to someone,” Sandy returned. “Whoever made this
+stuff and is responsible for it is sure making real money out of it in
+the end—and an awful lot of real money, too!”
+
+Jerry nodded thoughtfully, then said, “Where do you suppose it’s coming
+from?”
+
+“That shouldn’t be too hard to figure out,” Sandy answered. “That man on
+the island was pretty nervous about having any unexpected guests, I’d
+say. I’ll bet you this whole stack of money that he’s behind the whole
+thing, and that this is his boat that we’re on!”
+
+“You must be right,” Jerry said. “From the way that he came racing down
+that path with his gun yesterday, he must have been watching us all
+along, yet he didn’t come to stop us until we had dropped our anchor,
+lowered our sails, and were halfway in to shore in the dinghy! We should
+have realized when he didn’t stop us sooner what that meant. It meant
+that something funny was going on here!”
+
+“That’s right!” Sandy agreed. “He must have been expecting somebody else
+to come along in this boat—the same class and colors as ours—and he
+thought that we were whoever he was expecting—until he saw us in the
+dinghy! That’s why he was acting so confused and excited that he didn’t
+know whether to shoot at us, or to be nice and let us get our water and
+be on our way. We really caught him off guard!”
+
+“Right,” Jerry said. “And now we’ve confused the boats the same way he
+did, and we’ve caught him off guard again!”
+
+Sandy sat looking silently at the counterfeit five-hundred-dollar bill,
+frowning. Then he looked up at his friend and said, “The question now
+is, what are we going to do about it? We’re pretty lucky that we weren’t
+seen coming on board this boat, but do you think our luck is going to
+last? I’m worried that we won’t be able to get away from here again
+without being seen.”
+
+“We haven’t got much choice in the matter, have we?” Jerry answered.
+“The longer we stay here, the worse our chances will be. There’s no
+telling when the man with the gun or somebody else will come out here to
+do something with this money, and if they find us here....”
+
+“I’d sure hate to cross that fellow,” Sandy agreed. “I don’t like the
+way he handles that rifle of his. He looks too darn ready to use it!”
+
+Stuffing the counterfeit five-hundred-dollar bill into his pocket, Sandy
+stood up. “We’d better get going now, while we still have a chance,” he
+said. “The only thing to do now is to get this bill to the police as
+evidence of what we’ve found, and to put them on to this island.”
+
+Sandy started up from the cabin but, as his head emerged from the
+hatchway, he stopped dead in his tracks, for floating in a dinghy just a
+few feet away was the mysterious owner of the island accompanied by two
+tough-looking sailors! Sandy looked in dismay from their three faces to
+the muzzles of three guns pointed directly at him!
+
+It was not a pleasant smile that the man from the island gave him as he
+said, “Well! This is quite a surprise for all of us, isn’t it? Are you
+still looking for water? Or do you have a better story to entertain me
+with today?”
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER EIGHT
+                            Double Blackout
+
+
+Sandy tried his hardest to look unknowing and innocent, and at the same
+time shocked and outraged. With the three guns aimed at him, it was not
+an easy job.
+
+“What’s the idea?” he exclaimed. “I’ve never seen anybody so ready with
+a gun as you are! We were only looking for our boat. You know it looks
+the same as yours. We thought for a while that this was it, but....”
+
+“But you found out, after some thorough snooping, that it wasn’t, didn’t
+you?” the man sneered. “Of course you did. It’s my boat, all right! And
+you’re trespassing on it! And this is my island too, and you were
+trespassing there yesterday! And if I were to shoot you, I would be
+perfectly within my rights as a landowner!”
+
+Sandy tried with difficulty to smile reassuringly. “Take it easy,
+mister,” he said. “Honestly, we were just looking for our boat. It
+dragged anchor in the storm last night, and when we saw yours we made a
+natural mistake and thought it was ours. Okay, it isn’t. We made a
+mistake, that’s all. Now if you’ll just let us apologize, we’ll get off
+your private property and go looking again.”
+
+But the man didn’t show the slightest intention of even moving his rifle
+from the ready, much less of letting the boys go.
+
+“Of course you’ll go looking again,” he said. “Looking for what you were
+looking for yesterday and today. Oh, no! I hardly think I can let you
+go!” Then he smiled his peculiar smile again. “What’s more,” he added,
+“even if I were to let you go, I would first have to ask you to return
+the money you stole—the money I see sticking out of your pocket!”
+
+Sandy’s heart sank. There was nothing he could think of to say now, and
+he could see no way out of the situation. He sank wearily to a seat in
+the cockpit and sighed.
+
+“I guess we can both stop play-acting about this trespassing thing,” he
+said. He pulled the telltale bill out of his pocket and threw it on the
+deck. “This is what you’ve been so upset about all along, isn’t it?”
+
+“You’re a very bright boy,” the man with the gun said. “Far too bright,
+I’m afraid. You have this whole thing figured out already, haven’t you?”
+
+“Most of it,” Sandy admitted. “At least the parts that count. You’re
+using this island to make counterfeit money, and you’re using this
+sailboat to take it somewhere. That’s about all I know, but it’s enough
+to get you in trouble, isn’t it, Mr.—?”
+
+“Jones is the name,” the man said. “Yes, I would say it was quite
+enough. The only mistake you’ve made is your conclusion. What you know
+is enough to get _you_ in trouble—not me. In fact, I should hate to be
+in as much trouble as you two boys are in right now!” Jones put down his
+rifle for a moment and said, “Do you mind if I come on board my boat so
+that we can discuss your difficulties in more comfort?”
+
+Jones stepped out of the dinghy to the deck of the little sloop and
+settled himself comfortably in the stern seat while his two silent
+crewmen kept Sandy covered. When he was set, with his ever-present rifle
+held at ready across his knees, he was followed on board by the larger
+and meaner looking of the two sailors, who stationed himself beside
+Jones.
+
+“Oh, yes,” Jones repeated, “I should say that what you know is quite
+enough! And, since you already have too much information to ever let you
+leave here with, I’ll be happy to satisfy your immense curiosity by
+giving you a little more. But why not have your friend join us on deck?”
+
+When Jerry had come up from the cabin and was sitting beside Sandy,
+Jones cleared his throat, as if he were about to give a formal speech.
+
+“As far as you went in your thinking, you are most certainly right,” he
+said. “I use this boat to transport counterfeit money which I make on my
+island. I take it to a waiting freighter that meets me five miles off
+shore—well beyond the legal jurisdiction of the United States
+government, in international waters. The freighter takes my pretty
+counterfeit money and disposes of it in foreign markets, where I get a
+good price for it, and where not every bright and nosy boy is out to
+make a nuisance of himself.”
+
+Then, once again, Jones smiled his peculiar and unpleasant smile. “I
+find the foreign markets most useful for disposing of items which are
+too difficult to get rid of here. I expect that you will not be much
+harder to dispose of than this money, when you are beyond the limits of
+U.S. waters!”
+
+Sandy looked at Jerry in silence, desperately hoping his friend would
+come up with some flash of inspiration—some idea—which would help them
+to get out of this situation. But Jerry was no help. For that matter,
+Sandy reflected, he was not much help himself. But as long as he kept
+“Jones” talking, he’d get some more information and meanwhile, perhaps,
+he or Jerry might think of something.
+
+“There’s only one thing that has me puzzled in all this,” Sandy said
+therefore. “Why did you leave this boat full of money floating around
+outside of the cove?”
+
+Jones laughed. “There you have the full essence of our little comedy of
+errors,” he said. “Last night’s storm probably tore more than one
+hundred boats loose from their anchorages and moorings. Yours, I assure
+you, wasn’t the only one that drifted a good distance, and neither was
+mine!”
+
+“Yours?” Jerry gasped. “You mean that our boat _did_ drift over this
+way? And that you—?”
+
+“I think you understand,” Jones replied. “But it wasn’t I. It was these
+stupid fools who work for me. They had loaded the money on board the
+boat last night before the storm. Then, when it blew up, we knew that it
+was impossible to sail to the freighter until the storm had passed. They
+failed to take the money out of the boat for the night, trusting to luck
+that nothing would go wrong. But something did go wrong! My boat broke
+loose and floated out around the point to where it is now. Your boat
+drifted up to the entrance of my cove. When they came out this morning,
+my assistants saw your boat, and did not see mine.”
+
+Jones laughed a short, sharp laugh. “They actually sailed your sloop
+five miles out to the freighter! Of course they discovered their mistake
+when they opened the money locker and found it full of canned food!”
+
+He looked at the sailors with disgust, then continued. “When they
+realized their error, they promptly sailed back here, but by that time
+you had found my boat and assumed it to be yours. When they told me
+their story, I guessed at once what had happened and went to correct the
+mistake before you found out about our little business. If you had only
+come a half hour later, you would have found your own boat and sailed it
+off in perfect safety. Unfortunately for you, you were just a little too
+soon.”
+
+“As long as you’re telling us the whole story,” Jerry said, “will you
+answer a question for me? I don’t understand why you bother with
+sailboats, when a power boat could do the job so much faster.”
+
+“That’s a fair question,” Jones said. “You _are_ smart boys, aren’t you?
+Well, I pride myself on using my brains, too. I use this
+innocent-looking sloop for several reasons, one of which caused this
+whole ridiculous mix-up. For one thing, an individual member of a
+popular class of sailboat is very hard for the casual observer to
+identify. This we have both seen to be true. For another thing, everyone
+thinks of a sailboat as being merely a pleasure craft, and would never
+suspect it of anything illegal. It can go in and out of the harbor on a
+regular schedule and nobody will notice it or even realize it’s the same
+boat they are seeing. Third, all power boats have to be registered and
+licensed by the Coast Guard, while a sailboat is so anonymous that it
+doesn’t even have to have a name. Fourth, it gives me a reason to live
+on this island. To the people who stop to think of me, if they think of
+me at all, I am a retired gentleman whose principal hobby is sailing,
+and who lives on an island in order to get the most enjoyment out of the
+sport.”
+
+Again Jones smiled, and Sandy shivered. “It’s quite a neat setup, don’t
+you agree?” Jones said. “And, with the same neatness that is a part of
+my way of life, I am now going to put an end to this whole unpleasant
+interruption.”
+
+Suddenly dropping his lazy conversational manner, Jones sat upright and
+pointed his rifle at Sandy. Not moving his eyes from the boys, he spoke
+to the sailor who was still standing silent by his side. “We’ll have to
+take them out to the freighter now. There’s nothing else to do. I’ll
+decide what to do with them later on. You and Turk sail this boat and
+I’ll follow in theirs. Lock them below,” he added, nodding toward Sandy
+and Jerry.
+
+For the first time since they had seen him, the sailor spoke. “Okay,” he
+said. “We won’t mess it up this time.” Then, this being apparently the
+longest speech of which he was capable, he shut his mouth into a thin,
+hard line, and moved heavily to the boys.
+
+Using his pistol as a goad, he poked Sandy in the ribs and motioned him
+to go below. As Sandy started to take his first step down into the
+cabin, the sailor shoved him roughly and sent him sprawling onto the
+deck below. His head spinning, Sandy looked up to see the giant sailor
+towering above him. He was conscious of an odd noise, like a strangled,
+slow sobbing, far away. What was it? He had never heard such an ugly
+sound in his life....
+
+Then, as his head cleared, he realized what it was that he was hearing.
+The sailor was laughing!
+
+Afterward, Sandy was unable to explain why the strange laughing sound,
+and the sight of the warped expression that only faintly resembled a
+smile, should have made him behave as he did. An uncontrollable fury
+filled him and he jumped to his feet with a headlong rush!
+
+Caught off guard by Sandy’s sudden attack, the sailor made a clumsy move
+to sidestep, but not before Sandy’s swing had caught him a terrific blow
+in the ribs. All of Sandy’s six feet of wiry muscle went into the blow,
+and the sailor reeled back, staggering.
+
+Sandy followed him into the cockpit to take advantage of the surprise
+attack, just in time to see Jones bring down the barrel of his rifle
+sharply on Jerry’s head. Sandy whirled to face Jones as Jerry dropped to
+the deck.
+
+He started forward, cocking his fist to lash out before Jones could
+raise his rifle again, but suddenly, with a sound like a bat striking a
+ball, a blinding light seemed to explode in his face. This first
+sensation was followed by a dull roaring sound and a spreading pool of
+inky blackness. He felt his knees buckle....
+
+Somewhere, from afar, he heard Jones speaking in bored tones.
+
+“Bull,” he was saying, almost lazily, “you know how I dislike
+unnecessary violence in any form. If you hadn’t shoved the boy, this
+little scene would never—”
+
+And that was the last Sandy was to hear for quite a while.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER NINE
+                            To the Freighter
+
+
+When Sandy came to, the first thing he was aware of was a terrific
+headache. This was accompanied by such severe dizziness that when he
+tried to sit up he sank back immediately, holding his head. Gingerly, he
+ran his hand over his skull as if to make sure that it was still all in
+one piece. Then he lay still for a while, afraid to try moving anything
+else, and looked at the ceiling above him.
+
+Slowly, the dizziness ebbed away and the pain lurking behind his eyes
+settled down to a more bearable level. When he felt it was safe to try,
+he moved more cautiously than the first time, sat up and swung his long
+legs over the edge of the bunk.
+
+For a moment, he simply sat there with his elbows on his knees and his
+head propped in his hands, and looked at the decking. He had to think
+hard, as if he were remembering a dream that was fast fading away. Why
+was he in this bunk below? How was Jerry handling the boat alone? He
+frowned, pushed back his cowlick and raised his head.
+
+As he did so, he caught sight of the brass flare gun clipped to its
+bracket on the opposite bulkhead, and suddenly he remembered everything
+that had happened. Of course! This was not his boat at all, and Jerry
+wasn’t sailing it alone—or in any other way, for that matter!
+
+Jerry lay on the opposite bunk below the flare gun, propped up on one
+elbow and looking at him with a grin.
+
+“I guess it isn’t funny,” he said, “but you sure took an awful long time
+to wake up and figure out what had happened to you! I’ve been lying here
+awake for five minutes now, just watching you come up from under!”
+Ruefully rubbing a hand across his black crew-cut, he added, “I guess I
+must have taken the same length of time doing it when I woke up, but
+there wasn’t anybody here to time me!”
+
+“I saw Jones hit you,” Sandy said, “and he sure wasn’t making any
+special effort to be gentle. I guess that Bull, the big sailor, got me
+from behind when I turned to go after Jones.”
+
+Still rubbing his head, Jerry sat up in his bunk and faced his friend.
+“Sandy,” he asked, “what made you take a swing at Bull like that? You
+sure must have known that the two of us didn’t stand much of a chance in
+a fight against three men with guns!”
+
+“I don’t suppose I was really thinking at all,” Sandy answered. “I know
+it was a pretty foolish thing to do, but there was just something about
+Bull’s laugh.... Anyway, I’m sorry. It could have got us killed right
+then and there, I guess. As it is, I think we’re lucky to have got away
+with nothing more than a couple of headaches.”
+
+“What do you mean, a couple?” Jerry said. “I’ve got two myself!”
+
+Both boys laughed, but as their laughter died down, they became more
+serious than they had been before.
+
+“Look, we can sit here and make jokes about the situation until they get
+us out to that freighter,” Sandy said, “but that isn’t going to help us
+to figure out a way to escape and get to the police.”
+
+“You’re perfectly right,” Jerry agreed. “We’d better scout around and
+size things up while we’ve got a chance.”
+
+“And we’d better do it fast,” Sandy added. “We don’t know how long we’ve
+been knocked out, so we haven’t any idea how much time we have left
+before we arrive at the freighter. And by then, it might very well be
+too late to do anything for ourselves at all.”
+
+Half rising from their bunks, for the cabin roof was too low to allow
+them full standing headroom, they moved aft to the sliding doors that
+separated them from the cockpit. Gently testing the doors, Sandy found
+that they were locked, as he had assumed they would be. A crack of light
+showed where the two halves of the door met, and he placed his eye to
+it. With a frown, he turned around to look at Jerry.
+
+“Boy, they’re not taking any chances this time,” he whispered. “Both of
+the sailors are out there in the cockpit, and the one called Turk has
+his pistol in his hand, and it’s pointed right at this door!”
+
+Moving back to the bunks, Sandy and Jerry knelt to look through the
+small windows above them. On both sides of the sloop, there was nothing
+to see but water—not so much as a buoy or another boat in sight. Far off
+to the starboard side, they made out a low smudge that was the shore.
+
+“We must be almost there!” Sandy said.
+
+“Do you think there’s any use trying the forward hatch?” asked Jerry.
+“Or do you suppose that they have that one locked tight, too?”
+
+“I don’t know if it matters much one way or the other,” Sandy sighed.
+“Even if it is open, I wouldn’t care to stick my head out—not with Turk
+sitting back there with his pistol ready! I think I’ve had enough of
+rushing into pistols for one day!” Putting his hand to his head, he felt
+the lump that was forming above his right ear.
+
+Moving with the most extreme caution, so as to attract no attention from
+their guards, they started to explore the cabin for whatever
+possibilities it had to offer. Coming to the two tiny forward portholes,
+barely large enough to put a hand through, Sandy paused to take a look
+forward.
+
+Before their bow, perhaps fifty yards away, was a boat sailing calmly
+along as if the whole world were on a holiday. For one short instant,
+Sandy thought that this might be their chance—perhaps a signal with the
+flare gun might bring aid from the passing sailor! But his hopes were
+shattered in no time as he realized that the sloop sailing ahead was his
+own, sailed by Jones who was leading the way to the freighter that
+waited, like doom, not far off.
+
+Even in his hopelessness, Sandy could not help pausing to admire his
+boat, graceful and trim, making good time beating into a steady breeze.
+He thought for a moment of the preceding day when he had learned to take
+the tiller and had first felt the happy pride of ownership and
+accomplishment that comes to every boat owner. What a change in fortunes
+this new day had brought! Now his boat was no longer his and, instead of
+carrying him to pleasure, was leading him to what looked like certain
+disaster!
+
+As he watched, his boat suddenly put about on a new tack. He saw Jones
+skillfully handling both the tiller and the sheets. The jib was swiftly
+brought over to fill and, together with the mainsail, was trimmed and
+drawing in no time. Whatever else you could say about Jones, Sandy
+thought, the man sure knew how to handle a boat!
+
+The new tack set by Jones was followed by their sailor-guards. With a
+creak of tackle and rigging and a shifting of weight to the opposite
+side, the little sloop came about. Still at his lookout post at the
+forward port, Sandy saw the head of the boat swing about. As it did so,
+he caught sight of their destination.
+
+“Jerry! Look!” he whispered, motioning his friend to join him at the
+other porthole. There, high in the water, perhaps a mile away, was the
+dark shape of the freighter. Wisps of gray-white smoke curled from its
+stack and drifted off in the breeze. It was an ordinary-looking freight
+cargo ship, such as you would see in any port of the world. It had a
+black hull, a white deckhouse and a black stack marked with green
+stripes. All perfectly ordinary, perhaps, but to Sandy and Jerry it
+looked sinister and piratical. They stared at it for a few minutes,
+trying to judge their rate of progress from the lessening distance
+between themselves and the black-hulled ship. Then Sandy tore himself
+away from the porthole and grabbed Jerry’s arm.
+
+“Jerry, we’ve got to start acting fast,” he said. “There’s hardly any
+time left!”
+
+“Act how?” Jerry said. “What can we do but sit here and wait like a
+couple of chickens in a crate being taken to market? If you can think of
+anything to do, I’m game, but I haven’t got an idea in my head.”
+
+“I don’t think there’s anything we can do about the situation now,”
+Sandy said, “but I have an idea that might work later on. It may not be
+worth much, but anything’s worth trying.” He cast his eyes about the
+small cabin.
+
+“Did you by any chance come across a first-aid kit while you were
+searching?” he asked.
+
+“Yes, I did,” Jerry answered. “It’s in that locker next to the money.
+But what do you want it for?”
+
+“Bring it over and I’ll show you,” Sandy answered.
+
+While Jerry went for the first-aid kit, Sandy took the brass flare
+pistol from its bracket above the bunk. Then he sat down on the bunk and
+rolled up his pants leg. “Here,” he said. “Give me some tape. I’m going
+to strap this bulky thing to my leg if we have enough.”
+
+“What for?” Jerry asked in surprise. “It’s not a real gun, you know. All
+it does is fire a flare. Besides, there’s only one flare in here, and I
+don’t know if that can do us very much good.”
+
+“I don’t care about the flares,” Sandy answered. “It’s the gun itself
+that I’m interested in. It fooled me when I saw it and it just might
+possibly fool someone else who might not be familiar with these things.
+I’m hoping that if we get a chance to pull it on someone after dark, we
+can fool him long enough to get hold of a real gun that will help us
+escape!”
+
+“That’s not a bad idea,” Jerry admitted. “That is, if we’re still alive
+by dark!”
+
+“That’s about all I’m hoping for now,” Sandy answered. “I don’t know
+whether we can do any good with this flare gun or not, but it’s pretty
+clear that we can’t escape from _this_ boat. So I’m doing what I can to
+let us be able to take advantage of any chance we get on board the
+freighter. If we’re lucky enough to _get_ a chance.”
+
+As he spoke, Sandy was fastening the bulky flare pistol to the inside of
+his calf, making it as secure as he could with the tape from the
+first-aid kit. Finished at last, he stood up as well as he could in the
+low-ceilinged cabin, and tried to walk around.
+
+“Does it show too much?” he asked Jerry, shaking his leg a little.
+
+“It shows,” Jerry said, without much encouragement. “But maybe if you
+move around carefully, and if they don’t take a sudden interest in your
+legs, you might get away with it. Anyway, what can we lose by trying?”
+
+Sandy looked down at the bulge which so obviously distorted the leg of
+his blue jeans. He was afraid that he would never get away with it. He
+remembered the bell-bottom pants that the Navy enlisted men wear and
+that all sailors once wore, and he wondered if their original purpose
+had been to carry concealed weapons. Whatever they were for, he sure
+wished he were wearing a pair now!
+
+“I guess this is about as good as we can get it,” Sandy said. “If one of
+us only had a jacket on, we could probably hide the gun under an arm,
+but these sweat shirts just don’t leave enough room.”
+
+“No, I think the leg is a better place anyway,” Jerry said. “If they
+search us for weapons, they’re apt to miss your leg, but they’d never
+miss patting you under the arm. Anyway, we don’t have a jacket, and as
+far as I can see there’s no place else to hide the thing.”
+
+The boys took a last look around the cabin to see if there was anything
+else to help them, but there was not even a small kitchen knife or a can
+opener in the little galley. It seemed that Mr. Jones kept only
+counterfeit money in that area. As they were carefully exploring every
+possible nook and cranny in the cabin, they felt the sloop heel to the
+other side as it once more came about to go on a new tack.
+
+From the vantage point of the two forward ports they saw the reason for
+this latest maneuver. They were coming up to the wind alongside the
+freighter, preparing to stop. The high sides of the big ship loomed
+above them like the walls of a fortress, but chipped and scarred with
+streaks of rust. As the sloop swung completely into the wind, losing
+headway, they caught sight of Jones making a line fast to the bow of
+Sandy’s boat. Then, with a rattle of slides and a clumping of heavy
+steps on the cabin roof overhead, the counterfeiters’ craft came to a
+halt and was made fast alongside the freighter.
+
+Whatever was to happen, it would happen now!
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER TEN
+                       Aboard the Floating Prison
+
+
+Moving away from the forward portholes, Sandy and Jerry sat on the edges
+of the bunks and waited for their captors to come and get them. Both
+boys made themselves look as if they were completely dejected—as if they
+had already given up any hopes they might have had of escaping or of
+being rescued.
+
+In a few minutes the footsteps on the deck and cabin top stopped and the
+little craft lay bobbing and wallowing in the sea swell that rose and
+fell alongside the freighter.
+
+Rope bumpers, large braided lengths of thick cordage, were lashed to the
+sides of the sloop to keep it from being damaged by rubbing and banging
+against the steel side of the big ship.
+
+Although they were listening as closely as possible to everything that
+went on, they could not make out the words they heard shouted from the
+freighter’s deck far above. Nevertheless, the sense of them was made
+clear by the answer that Turk bellowed back.
+
+“Yeah! we got the stuff this time, all right! And we got a couple of
+other pieces of cargo with us, too! Wait and we’ll show you!”
+
+This was the moment, Sandy thought. He would have to be careful, he
+warned himself, not to lose his temper as he had done last time, even if
+he was roughed up and shoved around again. And above all, he must be
+careful about the way he moved. One false step would surely outline the
+telltale shape of the flare gun taped to his leg—and that would be the
+end of the only “weapon” that he and Jerry had! Not only that, but it
+might well be the end of the only chance they would have to get away
+with whole skins!
+
+A bolt grated in its slide on the companionway door and the hatch slid
+open to reveal Turk, pistol in hand, grinning nastily at them.
+
+“Okay, gents,” he said. “The first-class passage on the local ferry is
+over. Just step up on deck, and we’ll transfer to the next vessel.”
+
+As Sandy reached the companionway steps, Turk reached down and grabbed
+him by the neck of his shirt. With a swift heave, he sent Sandy
+sprawling on the cockpit deck. Keeping a tight control on his temper,
+Sandy confined his thoughts to worrying about getting his leg tucked
+under him in such a position that the flare pistol wouldn’t show.
+
+But he need not have worried, for Turk was too busy enjoying himself
+giving the same treatment to Jerry, who came flying out of the cabin to
+land heavily on the deck alongside Sandy.
+
+“These boys sure play a lot of rough games,” he murmured. “And I’m
+afraid that this is only the beginning of a whole world’s series!”
+
+“Take it easy,” Sandy whispered to his friend. “Let’s just go along with
+them quietly. Maybe we can keep in one piece until we have a chance to
+figure a way out.”
+
+At Turk’s orders, they rose to their feet. Looking up to the freighter’s
+deck high above them, they saw the other sailor, Bull, already on board,
+at the top of a long rope ladder. He too had his pistol held ready, and
+the expression on his face gave every indication that he would be only
+too glad to use it if he were given even half an excuse to do so.
+
+“Get up that ladder,” Turk ordered, “and don’t try nothing funny. We’ll
+have you covered all the way.” He waved his pistol at Jerry to indicate
+that he wanted him to go up the ladder first.
+
+Sandy’s heart seemed to sink in his chest. The order of climbing was all
+wrong—it couldn’t be wronger! Jerry first, himself next, and Turk last!
+Surely Turk, if he was below him looking up as he climbed, couldn’t fail
+to notice the flare pistol taped to Sandy’s leg!
+
+Acting as if he misunderstood Turk’s wordless command, Sandy stepped
+forward and grabbed the rope ladder, but the sailor’s big hand gripped
+him by the shoulder hard and firmly pulled him back.
+
+“You sure are eager, ain’t ya, kid? And you’re tricky, too. Now why did
+you want to go up that ladder first? That ain’t no picnic or party up
+there!” He screwed his big face into a frown of deep thought. Apparently
+unable to reach a decision, he undid his thinking expression and snarled
+at Sandy. “Just stop thinkin’ up tricks, see! You let me do the thinkin’
+here! Now, you go on first, the way I told ya!” He pushed Jerry toward
+the ladder.
+
+Resigned to having his flare gun discovered, and almost resigned to
+whatever would happen next, Sandy moved to the ladder to take his turn,
+when once more the big hand of Turk pulled him back. “I told you I’d do
+the thinkin’!” Turk said. “I don’t know what you got up your sleeve, but
+whatever it is, you’d better forget it. I’m goin’ up next!”
+
+At last, here was a turn of luck! Sandy could hardly keep from grinning
+as Turk started to mount the rope ladder. The big sailor swung up
+easily, keeping his eyes always turned downward to Sandy. Halfway up, he
+stopped.
+
+“Come on, now,” he said. “You won’t be able to play no tricks this way.
+You’re too far back for any leg grabbing, and I got this gun aimed right
+at the top of your head. Now come on up, and come slow!”
+
+Sandy stepped from the deck of the sloop to the lower rungs of the rope
+ladder and did as he was told, moving his “gun leg” as carefully as he
+could without running the risk of attracting any attention to it. At
+least, he thought with some satisfaction, he had gotten over the first
+hurdle!
+
+On the deck of the freighter, the boys were met by Jones, Bull, and a
+mean-looking crew of some of the dirtiest men they had ever seen. The
+freighter itself was none too clean, with paint scaling from the decks
+and splotches of grease covering the cargo-handling winches and other
+deck machinery. The white deckhouse, seen from close quarters, was a
+dingy and spotted gray, and the portholes were streaked with dirt and
+dried salt.
+
+In the midst of a rat’s nest of coiled ropes, fraying cables and other
+ship’s debris, Jones sat on an overturned crate as if it were an easy
+chair. He seemed perfectly at ease and completely out of place at the
+same time, his smart sports clothes and yachting cap making an odd
+contrast to the mixed clothing of the freighter’s crew.
+
+Despite his air of being a gentleman of leisure, Jones had his rifle
+still with him, lying across his knees, and his long fingers played
+restlessly with the safety catch and the trigger.
+
+“Gentlemen,” he smiled. “Welcome aboard. I hope you will find our modest
+accommodations suitable for your long journey. The Captain will arrive
+in a moment, and I am sure that he will do whatever is in his power to
+see to it that you are treated—appropriately.” Still smiling, he turned
+to Bull and said, “Bull, see to it that our passengers aren’t carrying
+any unnecessary luggage.”
+
+Bull looked puzzled. “I don’t getcha,” he mumbled.
+
+Jones rose with a swift movement, his smile turned at once to ice. “If
+you weren’t such a stupid lout, perhaps you’d get me the first time I
+speak to you! If you weren’t such a stupid lout, we wouldn’t have had
+these boys here with us in the first place.”
+
+He moved forward as if to strike the cowering Bull, but stopped and
+regained control over himself. Once more, he put on his bland smile.
+
+“Pardon my temper and my little jokes, Bull,” he said. “What I meant by
+‘unnecessary luggage’ was concealed weapons. In other words, frisk
+them.”
+
+Bull shook his head and said, “Why’ntcha say so inna first place?” and
+started toward Jerry and Sandy.
+
+Once again Sandy tensed. If only his luck would hold and he could get
+through without having Bull find the flare gun! Otherwise....
+
+He watched as Bull patted Jerry, none too gently. He realized that, if
+Jerry had been wearing a jacket under which to hide the flare gun, it
+would surely have been discovered. Soon Bull was finished with Jerry,
+and it was Sandy’s turn. Bull frisked him quickly and clumsily, patting
+his chest and under his arms, even though it was obvious that he
+couldn’t possibly have hidden anything there. Bull’s big hands continued
+down to Sandy’s pockets, hesitated for a moment, and stopped right
+there. He turned to face Jones.
+
+“They’re clean,” he said.
+
+Jones nodded, not paying too much attention to Bull or to the search. “I
+didn’t think that they would have had the foresight to bring any
+weapons. Still—there’s no sense taking any chances. In this business,
+one can’t be too careful.”
+
+Noticing that Jones was not looking directly at either Bull or
+themselves as he said all this, Sandy followed his gaze to the upper
+decks of the freighter, wondering what he _was_ looking for. A door
+swung open and a man stepped out into the late afternoon sunshine. Jones
+rose, waved to the man and called, “Captain! Come down! We have a little
+surprise for you!”
+
+Sandy had not known what to expect of the captain of such a ship as
+this, but surely, the man who came down the ladder did not look in the
+least like anything he might have imagined! He would not have been
+really surprised by a bearded giant, or another tough, such as one of
+the crew, or even, perhaps, by a turbaned oriental—but this captain was
+surely a complete surprise!
+
+He was a thin, wispy-looking old man—how old, Sandy could not begin to
+guess—with a face like a wise preacher’s or perhaps a college
+professor’s. He was dressed entirely in white, down to his old-fashioned
+white high-buttoned shoes, and he carried a bamboo cane with a gold
+head. To finish off this spotless outfit, so out of keeping with his
+ship, the Captain wore a pith helmet, such as British officers wear in
+the tropics!
+
+The old man moved briskly down the steep ladder from the upper decks
+and, with scarcely a glance at the boys, addressed himself to Jones.
+
+“Who are these children?” he asked, his voice thin and reedy, but
+carrying authority and as sharp as the crack of a whip.
+
+As Jones explained the presence of the boys on board the freighter, the
+Captain looked from them to Jones and back again. When Jones told him
+how Bull and Turk had mistaken Sandy’s sloop for his own, the Captain
+shifted his gaze to the two sailors, who almost winced under his cutting
+stare of scorn. Then, when the tale was done, he devoted his attention
+exclusively to Jones once more.
+
+“What do you want to do about it?” he asked.
+
+“I leave that entirely up to you,” Jones said. “I want no part of any
+violence—if it can be avoided. Besides, you will have them on your
+hands, and I’ll be ashore, so that it’s hardly my place to dictate the
+conditions of their—er—disposal.”
+
+Jones rose, leaning casually on his rifle as if it were a walking stick.
+“Whatever you want to do is all right with me. Just get rid of them,
+that’s all. And do it in a way that won’t attract any suspicions ashore.
+I don’t want anyone poking around the island asking questions about
+them.”
+
+The Captain thought for a minute, then answered, “I don’t think we’ll
+have anyone poking around the island. Not if we handle this thing right.
+They must not, you see, simply disappear. If they just drop out of sight
+without a trace, it will surely bring on a search, and someone may have
+seen them near your place. No, that won’t do. On the contrary, they must
+be found. But they must be found in such a condition that they can
+answer no questions—ever. And it must look natural.”
+
+“Perfect logic,” Jones said. “I agree completely. But how are you going
+to manage it?”
+
+“We will keep them aboard,” the Captain answered, “locked up below. I
+will tow their sloop after us. When we are a satisfactory distance from
+shore—say a thousand miles—we will put them into their boat and cut them
+loose.”
+
+“But,” Jones protested, “isn’t there a chance that they could make it in
+to shore somewhere? Men have managed rougher trips than that in the
+past.”
+
+“Don’t worry about details,” the Captain said in his quiet, scholarly
+voice. “I’ll take care of everything. First, we will drop them far out
+of any regular shipping lanes. In addition, we will first wreck their
+sails, their mast and their rigging as if it had been done by a storm.
+When they are finally found, it will be too late to do anything about
+them. It will just look as if a storm had wrecked them and blown them
+out to sea. It’s a tidy way to operate—no messy violence—and there will
+be no clues to lead to your precious island.”
+
+Jones considered for a minute before answering. “It sounds all right to
+me, if you say so. After all, you know your end of the business better
+than I do.”
+
+“Indeed I do,” the Captain answered calmly.
+
+“Now,” Jones said briskly, dismissing the matter of the boys from his
+mind, “we have my other cargo to discuss before our dealings are
+finished for this trip.”
+
+The Captain held up a thin, white hand to stop Jones. “Not now,” he
+said. “Our business can wait until we have refreshed ourselves and had a
+bit of dinner. Then when it is dark, you can turn over your cargo—if the
+terms are satisfactory—and sail home unobserved.”
+
+He waved his stick at the boys and motioned to two of his crew members.
+“Take them below and lock them in an empty cabin. And set a close watch
+on them.”
+
+As Sandy and Jerry were led off by the two crewmen, they saw the Captain
+precede Jones to the foot of the deckhouse ladder. He paused and bowed,
+indicating that Jones should go first. Somehow, the courtly,
+old-fashioned gesture seemed to Sandy more sinister than anything else
+he had seen since the start of this day.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER ELEVEN
+                            Escape to Danger
+
+
+Stepping over the high sill of the door that led from the deck to the
+passageway, Sandy and Jerry were plunged at once into gloom and
+near-darkness. The throb of the freighter’s engines, barely noticeable
+on deck, became a roar, and the passage was thick with the smells and
+heat from the engine room below.
+
+They were pushed and shoved along the passage, past a number of doors
+which Sandy presumed were the crew’s quarters. On the other side of the
+passage, an occasional door opened onto the engine room, a great cavern
+of heat and noise, brightly illuminated by lights on all sides, and
+crisscrossed by catwalks and ladders.
+
+Without a word, their guides stopped before a door opposite the main
+opening to the engine room. One of them produced a large key ring and,
+after a moment’s searching for the right key, unlocked the door.
+
+Motioning them to enter, the guard stood aside as Sandy and Jerry
+stepped into the gloom of a small cabin. Then the door slammed behind
+them, the key clicked in the lock, and they were alone. Through the
+ventilating slits cut in the top and bottom of the door, they heard one
+of their captors.
+
+“You take the first watch while I go for chow. I’ll bring the kids
+something to eat when I come back, then you can get yours.” The other
+said something in agreement, and the speaker’s footsteps in the
+passageway were soon drowned out in the roar of the engines.
+
+Sinking to a seat on the bare springs of a bunk with no mattress, Jerry
+looked up at Sandy and asked, “What now?”
+
+“I don’t know,” Sandy admitted. “But at least we got away with the flare
+gun, and we may figure out a way to use it.” He lowered himself to the
+bare bunk opposite the one Jerry occupied, and surveyed their floating
+prison.
+
+The cabin offered very little promise of help. There were the two double
+bunks, both bare of mattresses, four lockers, a sink in one corner and a
+single porthole. Going to the porthole, Sandy tried to open it, but with
+no success. The “dogs” that secured it, heavy steel latches, were welded
+in place, and the glass of the porthole looked too heavy to break.
+Obviously, the place had been used as a prison before. Outside of the
+porthole, there was nothing but the sea. Even if the glass could be
+broken, Sandy didn’t like the idea of dropping down into the black
+waters below. That seemed as unpromising a position as the one they were
+in now!
+
+The lockers were the next subject of their exploration but, as they
+expected, these proved as empty and bare as the cabin itself. The sink,
+the only remaining thing in the room, was the source of no inspiration.
+
+Settling himself on the bunk once more, Sandy began to roll up his pants
+leg. “I guess this flare gun is our only hope at that,” he said. “We
+might as well have it ready.”
+
+He quickly undid the adhesive tape, then stuck the gun in his belt. As
+he did so, an idea came to him.
+
+“Jerry, I think I have it!” he whispered.
+
+The plan was a simple one—almost too simple to work. But it seemed the
+only chance they had. Sandy proposed to wait until the guard came with
+their food, then, threatening him with the flare pistol, they would try
+to overcome him, tie him up, and make their way to the deck. Once there,
+they would have to find a way out. It seemed a slim hope, but what else
+could they do?
+
+Jerry agreed, and whispering quietly, they worked out the best positions
+to take to make their attack good. Meanwhile, one more stroke of good
+fortune came to them. Jerry found that he still had the roll of adhesive
+tape in his pocket, undiscovered in Bull’s quick inspection. It would
+come in handy for binding and gagging the guards, if they could once
+overcome them.
+
+Now there was nothing to do but wait. Through the porthole, they could
+see the sky growing dark, and the gathering gloom in the cabin raised
+their spirits. It was one more bit of aid that might fool their jailer
+into thinking the flare gun was a real weapon. The last glow of day was
+dying on the horizon when they once more heard voices in the passageway.
+
+Jerry took his position by the door while Sandy readied the flare gun,
+then sat on one of the bunks. The door swung open and their guards
+entered, the lead man carrying a tray and his companion behind him.
+
+As they stepped over the sill, Sandy stood up suddenly, upsetting the
+tray. Hot coffee spilled over the lead man, who stepped backward with a
+cry. As he did so, Jerry, from his position behind the door, reached out
+and knocked the second man to the deck. At the same moment, Sandy raised
+his flare gun and aimed.
+
+“All right,” he said. “I have you covered!”
+
+“Do what he says,” one of the sailors said. “Do you see that gun? It’s a
+flare!”
+
+Sandy was startled. If they knew it was not a real pistol, why didn’t
+they charge him? Why were they cowering away? Then he realized for the
+first time that the flare pistol, used as a weapon, must be an awful
+thing. Anything that could send a stream of flame hundreds of feet into
+the air could surely inflict a terrible wound when used against a man.
+He shuddered, knowing he could never use it in this way. But as long as
+the sailors didn’t know it....
+
+It was short work to silence the men with adhesive-tape gags, and to
+tape their hands firmly behind their backs. When this was done, the boys
+pushed the sailors into the lockers, taped their ankles together, and
+shut them in. The locker doors secured firmly with a latch. Leaving the
+cabin silently, Sandy and Jerry locked its door behind them. That
+certainly took care of two of their captors. Now, if the rest would just
+prove this easy!
+
+As they stepped away from the door, Sandy whispered, “Let’s get out of
+this passage fast. There are too many doors here, and one might pop open
+at any minute!”
+
+They swiftly moved down the length of the passage until they reached the
+bulkhead door. Outside, the deck was dark, with the complete blackness
+of a night at sea, pierced only by the shaft of light that came from the
+passage. Moving now as quickly as they could, they slipped out onto the
+deck, and stepped back out of the light. Their shadows had been outlined
+boldly against the passage light for only a second. They crouched in the
+darkness and waited to be sure they had not been observed. So far, so
+good.
+
+Now that they had gotten this far, Sandy realized, their problems were
+just beginning. How were they to get off the ship? And how could they
+prevent being followed?
+
+“Jerry,” he whispered, “we’ve got to see to it that we get away from
+here in the fastest boat they have! I wonder if there’s a power boat
+around?”
+
+“There has to be,” Jerry answered. “Every ship carries lifeboats, and
+one of them always has power so it can be used as a captain’s launch
+when necessary.”
+
+“Well, let’s find it!” Sandy whispered.
+
+Gazing over the side, they could see no boat tied up at all. They had to
+work their way to the other side of the freighter, without once more
+crossing the telltale path of light from the passageway. To do this,
+they had to work their way forward to the bow, and then around to the
+other side of the ship. Slowly, with as much care as they could muster,
+they dropped to their knees and began to crawl.
+
+They reached the forepeak with no trouble, except the minor difficulties
+of crawling over the mess of rope and ship’s gear scattered around the
+disordered deck. As they started back, though, two dark forms appeared
+in the light of the passage!
+
+“Down!” Sandy whispered, and he and Jerry dropped flat on the deck
+behind the protection of the windlass. Peering around the corner of the
+huge machine, with its coil of giant anchor chain, they watched the
+figures come nearer. Halfway between them and the deckhouse, the shadows
+stopped, leaning against the bulwark, and lit cigarettes.
+
+In the brief flare of the match, the boys recognized the grim face of
+Turk. The other man with him was a sailor they had seen on deck with the
+rest of the crew when they had been taken aboard the freighter. He spoke
+in a thin, flat, whining voice, with a trace of a foreign accent that
+might have had its origin in any country in the world, but which by now
+was simply international. The first words the boys could make out came
+from Turk.
+
+“This waiting is getting on my nerves,” he rumbled. “What’s keeping us
+from shoving off?”
+
+“It’s the big businessmen up there,” the sailor whined, jerking his
+thumb toward the Captain’s quarters. “Jones wants more for the phony
+dough than he got last time, and the Skipper wants to give him less. The
+Skipper says he rates a break in the price for getting rid of those kids
+for Jones. Jones says he’s taking as much risk as the Skipper.”
+
+“And how about us?” Turk asked. “Ain’t we in this as much as them?
+Where’s the payoff for us?”
+
+“I don’t know about you,” the sailor answered. “But the Skipper never
+let _us_ down yet. He says he’s gotta have better terms so’s to pay us a
+bonus. And we’ll get it,” he continued, his voice taking on a mean,
+determined tone. “We’ll get it, or else!”
+
+Sandy and Jerry, scarcely daring to breathe, lay still in the shadow of
+the windlass, listening to this exchange. At each word, the black
+freighter seemed less and less like a place where they wanted to stay.
+Something had to be done, and fast! As each moment wore on, Jones and
+the Captain were coming closer to an agreement, and when that agreement
+was reached, the ship would sail. And if it sailed with them still
+aboard, Sandy thought, their chance of escape would slim down almost to
+the vanishing point!
+
+For a few minutes, Turk and his friend stood silently at the rail and
+smoked their cigarettes. The stillness of the scene was marked only by
+the glow of coals against the black sea and sky. Then one of the
+cigarettes made an arch through the night as it was flipped over the
+side. The figures straightened.
+
+“I’m going back up there,” Turk announced, “and see if I can get any
+better idea what’s going on. I’ll listen at the porthole, and you stay
+back on the boat deck and cover for me. If anyone comes along, start to
+whistle.”
+
+The two dark figures walked back to the deckhouse and disappeared for a
+moment in the shadows. A few minutes later, Sandy saw their forms
+outlined briefly against the light from a porthole on the boat deck;
+then they passed once more from sight.
+
+Turning to Jerry, Sandy whispered, “We’d better get going! If they wind
+up that business talk before we’re out of here, I don’t give us much of
+a chance!”
+
+Once more, they crept in the shadows, moving with painful care over the
+tangled equipment that seemed to cover the decks everywhere. At last,
+reaching the ladder from the main deck to the boat deck, they paused and
+took stock. Above them, showing only as a dark shape against the dark
+sky, loomed the bow of the nearest of the freighter’s four lifeboats.
+Slowly, and with the greatest of care, they slipped up the ladder until
+Sandy’s head was at a level with the deck above. He waited and watched
+to be sure the deck was uninhabited. When he was reasonably certain, he
+moved ahead, slower now than before, and slid his body up onto the deck.
+Jerry followed suit, and soon the two, pulling themselves forward on the
+deck by the flats of their hands and the toes of their sneakers, were
+sheltered by a life-jacket box below the lifeboat.
+
+Turning over, Sandy scanned the bottom of the lifeboat, until, with a
+sigh of relief, he saw what he was hoping to see—the screw of a power
+boat protruding from the stern. This was the object of their search!
+
+As he pointed excitedly to the screw, Jerry whispered with puzzlement,
+“Now that we’ve found their power gig, what are we going to do with it?
+It takes four men to launch these things, and even if we could launch
+it, it would make such a noise that we’d have the whole crew on our
+necks before it ever hit the water!”
+
+“I didn’t figure on launching it,” Sandy said. “What I want to do is fix
+it so they won’t be able to follow us in it when we make our getaway on
+the sloop!”
+
+“Smart thinking!” Jerry whispered. “There’s very little danger that they
+can chase us with the freighter itself. In the first place, by the time
+they could turn it around, we’d be out of sight. And if they don’t catch
+up with us out here, they won’t dare come too near the harbor. The water
+there isn’t deep enough for a ship this size and it would be too risky
+for them. But _I_ don’t know too much about engines. How are you going
+to disable this one?”
+
+“I know a few ways,” Sandy answered, “and I’m going to use them all! If
+I just put one thing out of order, they might fix it right away. But,
+with the mess I’m going to make of that engine, it’ll take them a half
+hour or better to get it going. And by then, I hope, we’ll have sailed
+out of sight!”
+
+Working with the greatest of care, the boys unlaced the canvas cover on
+the outboard side of the lifeboat. Standing on the rail of the ship,
+Sandy swung up and slid in beneath the cover, into a pitch-blackness
+that made the night outside seem bright in comparison.
+
+As Jerry joined Sandy, his added weight made the lifeboat lurch to one
+side, and brought a creak from the davits in which the boat was hung. To
+the boys under the canvas, it sounded as loud as a scream! Motionless in
+the dark, they waited for the thud of running feet, the tearing back of
+the boat cover, the glare of flashlights—but none came. The only answer
+to the noise was a thin, tuneless whistle from the deck above them. It
+was Turk’s fellow sailor, keeping watch for his spying friend, and he
+was as afraid of passing noises as the boys were!
+
+Not daring to move, Sandy and Jerry waited for what seemed hours until
+the slight swaying of the lifeboat stopped. As cautiously as they could,
+so as not to start it moving again, they changed their positions in such
+a way as to balance the boat better. At last they were stationed one on
+each side of what Sandy could only hope was the engine compartment.
+
+“How can you work in the dark?” Jerry whispered. “How will you know
+what’s what in there?”
+
+“It shouldn’t be too hard,” Sandy replied. “Almost all engines have a
+lot in common. If I can just get my hands on the engine, I think I’ll
+know what to do.”
+
+Working only by touch, it was not easy to find out how the lid to the
+engine compartment was removed. Slowly moving his hands around the
+surfaces of the box, Sandy found two hook-eyes, which he carefully
+unfastened. On the opposite side of the box, he found two more, which he
+also undid.
+
+“We’re in luck,” he whispered to Jerry. “If this had been a hinged top,
+I don’t think we could have opened it. There isn’t enough headroom below
+this canvas to raise a boxtop this size.”
+
+With the greatest of care, making only the smallest of scraping noises,
+they removed the heavy lid and placed it across two of the lifeboat’s
+seats.
+
+“I’m ready,” Sandy said. “I’m going to be handing you some parts, Jerry.
+I want you to put them in your shirt. We can’t leave them in here, and
+if we threw them overboard, the splash would surely be heard. Just be
+sure they don’t clank around!”
+
+Working noiselessly, Sandy ran his hands over the engine, starting from
+the top of the block. He touched and counted the spark plugs—four of
+them. His own experience with assorted jalopies would come in handy
+here, he thought. Carefully, he slipped the wires off the tops of the
+spark plugs. Following the wires to their source, he came to the
+distributor cap. Two clips held it in place. These were easily removed.
+Following the wire that came from the center of the distributor cap, he
+came to its end at the spark coil. A small pull removed it. Then he
+handed the whole thing, which felt like a mechanical octopus, to Jerry,
+who slipped it into his shirt.
+
+A little more probing brought out two more parts from the distributor,
+both quite small. One was the rotor, the other the condenser. “With any
+one of these things gone,” Sandy whispered, “they won’t be able to run
+this boat!”
+
+“Great!” Jerry breathed. “Now let’s get going!”
+
+“Not yet,” Sandy said. “We still have some more to do. I don’t want to
+make it too easy for them!”
+
+The next thing to go was the fuel pump, as Sandy unscrewed from it the
+glass bowl through which the gasoline had to pass. This was followed by
+a small collection of springs from the choke, the accelerator and the
+carburetor.
+
+“I think that ought to do it,” Sandy said. “Now let’s put this engine
+lid back on, so they can’t tell right away that somebody’s been in
+here!”
+
+It took even more care to replace the lid than it had to take it off. It
+was a tight fit, and really needed a blow on the top to make it fit
+properly on the casing, but this could not be done without making far
+too much noise. Finally, they decided to leave it unhooked, rather than
+run the risk of giving away their presence in the lifeboat.
+
+Getting out and dropping soundlessly to the deck was not easy either,
+especially for Jerry, with the hardware stored in his bulging shirt
+front. Sandy, who had gone first, helped him down, and Jerry landed
+beside him with a muted clinking of metal and hard plastic. The slight
+noise brought no warning whistle from Turk’s lookout.
+
+A glance at the deck below showed them why. Their eyes, grown accustomed
+to complete darkness, were now able to see quite clearly about the
+freighter’s deck. Up forward, near where they had hidden below the
+windlass, stood Jones and the white-uniformed little Captain, together
+with Turk, Bull, and several other sailors.
+
+Apparently the business talk was concluded and, much more to the boys’
+concern, the freighter was making ready to hoist anchor and set off for
+ports unknown!
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER TWELVE
+                            The Race Begins
+
+
+Even as they watched, a working light mounted on the foremast suddenly
+flooded the foredeck with brilliance, bringing the shadowy figures into
+sharp focus, like actors on a brightly lighted stage.
+
+Instinctively, Sandy and Jerry shrank back into the shadow of the
+life-jacket box, until Sandy realized that the bright light on the
+foredeck would make the rest of the ship almost invisible to people in
+its rays.
+
+For a few seconds or more, the boys watched the tableau below them until
+several of the sailors ambled over to the windlass. Then Jerry said,
+“They’re getting ready to hoist the anchor now. We have to move fast if
+we’re going to get to our boat before Jones gets to his!”
+
+Still exercising the greatest care, they re-laced the canvas where they
+had entered the lifeboat, then quietly crept alongside the rails under
+the lifeboats until they came to the ladder connecting the boat deck to
+the afterdeck.
+
+This, fortunately, was both deserted and unlighted, the deck crew having
+all gone forward to work on the windlass. The boys made their way down
+to the point where they had come on board via the rope ladder, which was
+still slung over the side, waiting for Jones’s departure.
+
+Looking over the bulwark, they saw the two sloops below them, bobbing
+gently in the swell that washed against the sheer side of the tall
+freighter. They looked almost unbelievably peaceful, and Sandy thought
+once again about Jones’s comments about the unsuspicious looks of
+sailing craft. Next to their trim, small shapes, the freighter looked
+every bit as sinister as it had actually proved to be!
+
+“This is it,” Sandy whispered. “Let’s make it fast!”
+
+He stepped over the bulwark and disappeared down the rope ladder. Jerry
+was as close behind him as he could get without running the risk of
+stepping on Sandy’s hands. A moment more brought them to the deck of the
+sloop.
+
+“Now comes the hard part,” Jerry whispered. “We’ve got to get our sails
+up and shove off without anyone seeing or hearing us—and it’s not
+exactly a quiet job. In fact, if I remember right, our slides squeak
+pretty badly in their track. I noticed it when we first took it out, and
+made a mental note to oil the track as soon as we got some time.”
+
+“Maybe we’d better not risk it,” Sandy said. “Is there some way we can
+get away from here without having to hoist the sails right away?”
+
+“Well ...” Jerry said, “if there were enough current, we could drift
+off, but I don’t think there is. Besides, it would take a long time, and
+I don’t think we’ve got too much time to waste right now.”
+
+“Suppose we tow it off behind the dinghy?” Sandy asked. “You know, the
+way we brought it out of the harbor for the first day’s sail.”
+
+“Good!” Jerry exclaimed. But it only took a moment’s search to assure
+them that the dinghy was not with them. “Jones must have left it tied to
+his mooring,” Jerry said. “That puts us back where we started.”
+
+“I guess there’s nothing to do but try it with our sails,” Sandy said.
+As he started to move forward, Jerry stopped him with a hand on his
+shoulder.
+
+“Wait a minute! I think I know a way to do this! I remember I was once
+taught about sculling with the rudder. You use it like an oar. I’ve
+never had to try it, but this is probably the best time. C’mon! Let’s
+cast off those lines!”
+
+Working swiftly, Sandy cast off the bow line while Jerry did the same
+with the line at the stern. Then both of them pushed off from the side
+of the freighter, and the little sloop drifted noiselessly away from the
+scarred steel cliff of the huge hull.
+
+The bright light from the foredeck spilled on the waters around the bow
+of the ship, and seemed even to light up the sloop. Sandy only hoped
+that whoever was standing lookout on the freighter was within that
+circle of light. If he was in the darkness of the upper decks, even the
+few dim beams that reflected from the white hull of the little sailboat
+would shine out like a warning beacon against the dark waters!
+
+Sandy worked his way aft over the cabin roof, and dropped into the
+cockpit to join Jerry at the tiller. Jerry was carefully working the
+tiller backward and forward, making small gurgling sounds as the rudder
+swept through the water.
+
+“Here’s the way it works,” he said. “I’m using the rudder like a single
+stern paddle. Lots of boats in the old days used to be run like that. If
+the paddle’s properly shaped, it will do a good job of propelling a
+boat. They call a long stern oar a sweep, and it’s good enough so that
+it’s still used on heavy barges in lots of places around the world.”
+
+“Won’t it just push the stern around from one side to the other?” Sandy
+asked.
+
+“Not if you do it carefully,” Jerry replied. “What I’m doing is this: I
+ease the rudder to one side, slowly, so as not to row with it. Then I
+give it a strong pull toward me—like this—and then I shove it halfway
+back.”
+
+As he spoke, he hauled on the rudder, and the stern of the sloop swung
+around a bit, but the return motion of the rudder stopped the swinging
+action and steadied the sloop on her course. Sandy saw small ripples
+form a wake behind the boat as some forward motion was gained. As Jerry
+repeated the gentling, pulling and returning of the rudder, the sloop
+gained a little more forward speed. Slowly, the rusted sides of the
+black freighter slid by them.
+
+“So far, so good,” Sandy said. “If we keep this up, we’ll be able to get
+away before we’re spotted.”
+
+“I hope so,” Jerry agreed fervently, pulling strongly on his improvised
+sweep. By now the sloop was some thirty feet or more away from the
+freighter, and heading past the overhanging stern of the big ship.
+Suddenly, the stillness of the night was shattered by a roar and clank
+of machinery.
+
+“It’s the windlass!” Jerry cried. “They’re getting ready to haul up the
+anchor! Jones must be ready to go over to his boat!”
+
+Even as he spoke, a flare of work lights came up over the freighter’s
+afterdeck, clearly showing Jones and the Captain standing by the head of
+the rope ladder, flanked by Turk and Bull. The Captain and Jones were
+shaking hands, apparently having concluded a deal on the counterfeit
+cargo that pleased them both. Neither of them had as yet looked over the
+side to see that one of the sloops was missing.
+
+“We can’t chance this any more,” Jerry said. “We’re bound to be
+discovered in another minute, when Jones starts over the ladder! Let’s
+get those sails up now, and do the best we can!”
+
+“You’re right,” Sandy agreed, swiftly leaping atop the cabin roof to
+reach the main halyards. Taking a deep breath, he hauled. With a
+screech, the slides moved stiffly up the track, and the mainsail
+fluttered overhead.
+
+Moving quickly, Sandy grasped the jib halyard and hoisted it aloft while
+Jerry was fastening the main halyard to its cleat. The sloop began to
+make headway in the light breeze. Then, as Sandy joined his friend in
+the cockpit, the sloop sailed clear of the shadows that lay below the
+stern of the freighter, and into the circle of light that surrounded the
+afterdeck. At almost the same instant, a shout rang out from above them.
+
+“Look! It’s the kids!” It was Turk, who, seeing the sail like a luminous
+flag in the water, had sounded the alarm.
+
+“Get down!” Sandy said, pulling Jerry to the deck of the cockpit. His
+action came not a minute too soon for a pistol shot rang out. It was
+followed by a volley of shots, as more of the freighter’s crew got into
+the action, but the boys were unharmed, although two bullets had hit the
+cabin roof and one had plowed a furrow in the deck.
+
+The shooting stopped after a few more stray shots were fired, the sloop
+having by now moved out of effective pistol range. Making the best
+headway they could in the light breeze, Sandy and Jerry looked back with
+satisfaction to see the freighter’s crew working feverishly at the
+davits to get the ship’s power gig into the water.
+
+“If we can just get enough lead time,” Jerry said fervently, “we’ll make
+it to shore well ahead of them!”
+
+“What if Jones follows in his boat?” Sandy asked.
+
+“We’ll worry about that if he does,” Jerry answered. “He’s a good
+sailor, but we have a lead on him. It’ll be our first race, if it
+happens, and I sure hope we win!”
+
+By now the power gig was hanging over the side, its davits having been
+swung into launching position. The canvas cover had been removed, and
+several sailors clambered in, waiting for the boat to be lowered. With a
+creak of blocks and tackle, the lifeboat was swiftly dropped to the
+water. The boys could see someone bending over the engine compartment,
+trying to get the boat started.
+
+“Jones’ll have a long wait, if he wants to go after us in that!” Sandy
+chuckled. “That ship is so sloppy, I’ll bet it will take them an hour
+just to find the parts they need, once they discover what’s wrong!”
+
+But apparently Jones wasn’t going to wait. He had sized up the situation
+quickly—too quickly—and was going over the side and down the rope ladder
+to the other sloop!
+
+“Oh-oh!” Jerry said. “He’s going to try to catch us in the other sloop!
+And we haven’t got more than a few hundred yards on him yet. This is
+going to be some race!”
+
+Some race! Sandy realized once again how different the meaning of speed
+is to a sailor and to a landsman. Here they were, in a gentle breeze on
+a calm sea, preparing to race for their very lives—and they would
+probably not sail faster than he could walk!
+
+Consulting the stars, Jerry set a downwind course, and the boat headed
+slowly but steadily toward the mainland.
+
+“We’d do better on some other point of sail,” Jerry said, “but there’s
+one consolation.”
+
+“What’s that?” Sandy asked.
+
+“He’s got to sail on the same course we take, so he can’t take advantage
+of any more favorable wind than the one we get. That, and the fact that
+the boats are the same, at least puts us on an even footing.”
+
+By now, Jones and a crew member were in the sloop, and were getting the
+sails up. Sandy watched as the mainsail caught the light from the
+freighter, followed almost immediately by the jib. The sloop swung about
+into the trail of light that danced on the water between them and the
+big ship, and set her sails for a downwind tack.
+
+Small waves whispered softly at the bow, and bubbles gurgled quietly in
+the wake. The mainsheet hardly pulled at all in Sandy’s hand as the sail
+caught all the wind there was to catch. Hardly seeming to move at all,
+the sloop glided slowly ahead in the soft night breeze.
+
+And the toughest race they would ever sail was under way!
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER THIRTEEN
+                      A Race of Mistaken Identity
+
+
+“Trim your main!” Jerry said. “Haul back a little ... more ... no, let
+it out a shade ... that’s it! Cleat it down there!”
+
+Sandy followed Jerry’s directions carefully, hauling at the sheet to get
+the sail set to its best position. Like the airplane wing it resembles,
+the sail must be perfectly shaped to get the maximum advantage of the
+wind. Sandy had learned that this was true even on a downwind run, where
+a sail let out too far will spill wind, and a sail sheeted in too close
+will miss too much wind.
+
+Rejoining Jerry on the cockpit seat, Sandy looked aft to catch sight of
+their pursuer. He was surprised to see the amount of water that now
+separated them from the freighter, which seemed a spot of bright light
+far behind them. Against the light he could see the silhouetted shape of
+Jones’s sloop. It seemed to him that they were closer than before, and
+he motioned Jerry to turn and look.
+
+“You’re right,” Jerry said, guessing at the question that had formed in
+Sandy’s mind. “They’re closing in on us, all right. That Jones is sure
+some sailor! We’ll have to do better than this if we’re going to get
+ashore before they sail within pistol range!”
+
+“What can we do?” Sandy asked, his brow wrinkling under the blond
+forelock that hung over his eyes.
+
+“The only thing we can do is put on more sail,” Jerry answered. “That
+won’t be an easy job with just the two of us. And you’ve never handled a
+spinnaker.”
+
+“You’d better give me some fast instruction,” Sandy breathed. “First,
+what’s the spinnaker?”
+
+“It’s a big oversized jib, cut like a parachute,” Jerry replied. “You
+saw a few out in the bay yesterday, remember? It’s that big sail that
+flies out ahead of the boat. You can only use it on downwind sailing,
+unless you’re a lot better sailor than I am, and it’s the best pulling
+power you can have when the wind’s at your back.”
+
+“What do I have to do to help you?” Sandy asked.
+
+“I’ll have to put it up myself,” Jerry told him. “Your job will be to
+hold a steady course and to keep the sails trimmed the way they are
+now.” Sandy grinned. “I won’t look around to see how other boats look
+this time,” he promised. Then he sobered. “I’ll do my best to keep her
+sailing right. What’ll you be doing?”
+
+“I’ll have to drop the jib, which will lose us some speed for a minute.
+Then I’ll hoist the spinnaker, with a pole to the tack—that’s the
+corner—to swing it outboard to where it will catch the wind. Then—but we
+can’t waste time talking about it! I’ll show you now and explain some
+other time!”
+
+Both boys took another look back, but by now the night had swallowed up
+Jones’s sloop, and all they could see was the glow of the freighter,
+growing rapidly smaller and fainter behind them.
+
+“I wonder if Jones has seen that?” Sandy said. “The freighter must be
+under way. They haven’t even waited for him, to see how things turn
+out!”
+
+“I’m not surprised,” Jerry said. “If Jones catches us, they don’t have
+anything to worry about. And if he doesn’t ... they want to be a long
+way away from here!”
+
+Turning their attention back to their own problem, Jerry asked Sandy to
+go below to the cabin’s sail locker and pull out the sail bags, but not
+to light even a match. The odds were that Jones still could not see
+them, and it was better to keep it that way.
+
+“How will I know which is the spinnaker?” Sandy asked.
+
+“We only have two sails below,” Jerry answered. “We’re flying the main
+and genoa jib now. That means that the only bags will have the working
+jib and the spinnaker. The working jib is the small bag, and the
+spinnaker will be as heavy as the mainsail.”
+
+In the cabin of the sloop it was as dark as it had been under the cover
+of the lifeboat. Sandy groped about, searching for the sail locker,
+which was forward of the mast, in the peak of the boat. Finally, after
+tripping a few times, and once bumping his head badly, he felt his hands
+come in contact with the brass catch that secured the locker.
+
+Inside were several sail bags, most of them empty. He came on one that
+contained a sail, but it was obviously the small working jib. Worried
+now, Sandy burrowed deeper into the locker, and at last found a bag that
+seemed heavier than the first. Relieved, he carried it out to the
+cockpit, where Jerry was anxiously looking aft.
+
+“Look! If you look just about four points off our stern, you can see
+her!”
+
+Sandy squinted to where Jerry had pointed, and made out a dim white
+shape through the darkness, surely no more than a few hundred yards
+behind them!
+
+“They’re closing in!” Jerry said. “I’d better rig this thing as fast as
+I can!”
+
+He took the sail bag from Sandy, and crawled forward over the cabin.
+Sandy anxiously handled the tiller, hoping that he was keeping the
+course. Overhead, a few dim stars made points of light, and he leaned
+back to line up the masthead with one of them. In his right hand, the
+mainsheet felt light—too light—and he worried that he had so little
+control over it. What if they were to jibe now, as they had on the first
+day’s sail? What if the sails were not properly trimmed? And how could
+he be sure they were? How long would it take Jones to catch up with
+them? Taking his eyes for a minute from the star and the masthead, he
+saw Jerry kneeling on deck, doing something with the sail. Then he
+looked back to the masthead, and fixed all his attention on keeping the
+boat on a steady course.
+
+Suddenly, Jerry was back in the cockpit with him, and the sail bag,
+still full, was dropped on the deck at his feet.
+
+“What’s wrong?” he asked.
+
+“Sandy, was that the only heavy bag there was?” Jerry asked.
+
+“That’s right. The only other bag was so light it must have been the
+jib. What’s the matter?”
+
+Jerry shook his head slowly. “We’re in real trouble now,” he answered.
+“That’s not a spinnaker at all. It’s a spare genoa!”
+
+“But—but I saw the bag marked spinnaker the other day!” Sandy
+spluttered. “Why would Uncle Russ put a spare genoa in a bag marked for
+a spinnaker?”
+
+“He wouldn’t,” Jerry answered. “And what’s more, he didn’t. I was able
+to make out the letters on the bag, and they said ‘genoa.’ Brace
+yourself for a shock, buddy. I _know_ we had a spinnaker aboard. And I
+know we didn’t have two jennies!”
+
+“Do you mean we’ve done it again?” Sandy gasped.
+
+“That’s right,” Jerry said sadly. “We goofed again, and took Jones’s
+boat instead of yours!”
+
+There was nothing to say. They turned in silence to look aft at the dim
+white shape that followed them through the night, and that slowly ate
+away at the distance that kept them apart.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER FOURTEEN
+                           Slow-Motion Chase
+
+
+“What can we do now?” Sandy asked.
+
+“Just what we’re doing,” Jerry answered mournfully. “Just sail the best
+we can and hope that he won’t close in on us before we come across some
+other boat.”
+
+“Maybe Jones won’t find our spinnaker,” Sandy suggested. “If he thinks
+he’s on his own boat, he knows he hasn’t got a spinnaker below, and
+maybe he won’t see any reason to go poking around in our sail locker.”
+
+“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Jerry said. “We can make a mistake like this—and
+make it twice—because neither of us is really familiar with your boat.
+But a good sailor like Jones knows his own boat the way he knows his own
+living room. He isn’t going to be fooled the same way we were!”
+
+“Still,” Sandy reasoned, “that’s no guarantee he’s going to go to our
+sail locker, is it?”
+
+“It’s almost a sure bet,” Jerry replied. “He’s probably got Turk looking
+around now to see what kind of extra canvas we might have on board, and
+when he finds that spinnaker, we can kiss our chances goodbye!”
+
+“Well, he hasn’t found it yet,” Sandy said stubbornly. “And until he
+does, there must be something we can do to get more speed out of this
+boat!”
+
+Stirring out of his gloom, Jerry trimmed the mainsheet and then the jib.
+Then suddenly he brightened. “Say! I remember reading about one trick
+that might help us. It’s called wing-and-winging. What you do is rig the
+jib on the opposite side from the mainsail when you’ve got the wind at
+your back. It’s supposed to act almost like a spinnaker.”
+
+“Well, let’s do it!” Sandy said. “What do you want me to do?”
+
+“You just hold the course, like before,” Jerry explained. “I’ll go
+forward and re-rig. When I tell you to, you uncleat the jenny sheet, and
+I’ll swing the sail around on the other side and brace it out. I’ll use
+the boat hook for a whisker pole to hold it in place. Maybe this’ll turn
+the trick!”
+
+He clambered forward, and once more Sandy was left alone with the
+tiller, the star and the masthead. For a few minutes he thought only of
+holding the course, until he heard Jerry’s voice, “Now!”
+
+Leaning forward, Sandy uncleated the sheet which held the genoa jib in
+trim, where it had flown almost useless before the mainsail. He watched
+eagerly as Jerry hauled the sail around to the windward side, lashed the
+boat hook to the clew and swung the big triangle outboard. Almost
+instantly, the jenny started to fill, and Sandy felt the little sloop
+start forward.
+
+Jerry quickly leaped into the cockpit and secured the sheet, trimming
+the billowing sail. “It’s working!” he panted. “This may just turn the
+trick!”
+
+They listened in satisfaction to the increased sound of the waves
+slipping past the sloop’s sides and muttering in the wake. They could
+actually feel the difference in the motion of the boat.
+
+“Jones has probably had his jib winged out all this time,” Jerry said.
+“That’s why he’s been closing in on us so fast. Maybe this will keep the
+distance the way it is until we can get ashore or get help!”
+
+“I sure hope so!” Sandy agreed.
+
+“Just hope he doesn’t find that spinnaker! As long as we’re both flying
+the same sail area, and as long as we’re both heading downwind, there’s
+not much he can do to catch us. Running before the wind this way, equal
+boats with equal canvas flown in the same way will come out just about
+the same. It’s on a reach, or beating against the wind that expert sail
+handling really makes the difference. And I’m sure glad we’re not on
+some other point of sail, because Jones would outsail us every time!”
+
+With that thought to cheer them, the boys sailed in silence. Above them,
+clouds occasionally blotted out the stars of the dark moonless night,
+and it was hard to set a course by any one of them. At the helm, Jerry
+steered as much by the feel of the wind on his back as by the stars he
+could see.
+
+Behind them always, never drawing any nearer, but never falling astern,
+was the white blur of Jones’s canvas. It was as if the two boats were
+tied together with a fixed length of cable or a rigid bar that would not
+allow the gap between them to change.
+
+The race went slowly. It was like a chase in some fantastic dream, Sandy
+thought, a dream where he was running in slow motion, trying with every
+ounce of strength to make his legs go faster.
+
+But there was a difference, for here there was no exertion, no strain,
+except on the nerves. Here all was, to a casual glance, peaceful and
+pleasant. If any boat were to pass, all its passengers would see would
+be two pretty sloops, out for a night-time sail.
+
+Suppose another boat did come? How would they know? Then Sandy
+remembered the flare pistol. He had put it on the seat when they had
+come aboard! Maybe the bulky brass gun would come in handy again! He
+searched the night for some sign of a boat’s running lights, but saw
+only the same black sea and sky on all sides. Still, perhaps nearer
+shore....
+
+The nightmarish quality of the race increased as each moment wore on. It
+seemed to Sandy that he was doomed to sail on forever, like the
+legendary Flying Dutchman, never getting to shore, never getting within
+hailing distance of another boat.
+
+He strained his eyes against the darkness ahead, and then turned to look
+astern at the following shape of Jones’s boat, stubbornly staying with
+them at the same fixed distance. He almost wished that Jones would in
+some way catch up, just to break the tension. Maybe in a fight, there
+would be a chance! At least, they wouldn’t just be sitting and waiting.
+
+As he watched, something on the pursuing sloop seemed to change. A
+shimmer of white sails, then nothing.
+
+“Jerry!” Sandy whispered, gripping his friend’s arm. “Look back there! I
+thought I saw something change in his sails. I couldn’t tell for sure,
+but doesn’t it seem to you that the shape is different now?”
+
+Jerry squinted back at Jones’s boat. “I think you’re right,” he said.
+“It looks as if he’s changed his sail trim some way. I wonder what he’s
+got up his sleeve this time?”
+
+“Do you think he’s found our spinnaker?” Sandy asked.
+
+As if in answer, the white shape behind them altered once more. A new
+piece was added to it—a long, flapping shape. As they watched,
+fascinated and fearful, but unable to do a thing, the long white
+triangle billowed out, changed into a full, taut shape and lifted high
+above the deck of Jones’s boat.
+
+“So that’s a spinnaker,” Sandy said.
+
+“It sure is,” Jerry answered grimly. “Take a good look at it, because it
+may turn out to be the last one we’ll ever see!”
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER FIFTEEN
+                          Turn and Turn Again
+
+
+As Jones’s spinnaker filled and lofted, a fresh breeze came up from
+astern, tugged at the rigging, tightened the sails and sent the boys’
+sloop ahead at a sharper pace.
+
+“Feel the breeze!” Sandy said. “Maybe that’ll help us out of trouble!”
+
+“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Jerry replied. “The same breeze is helping
+Jones, and he’s got an awful big sail up to catch it!”
+
+“Even so, Jerry,” Sandy objected, “I seem to remember you saying
+something that ought to give us a chance now....”
+
+“If you do, you’d better let me know,” Jerry said, “because I sure don’t
+feel very full of ideas now.”
+
+Sandy wrinkled his brow and strained at his memory. There seemed to be
+some fact, some idea half remembered from all Jerry had told him, that
+ought to help. He looked astern, and the sight of Jones’s sloop bearing
+down on them and swiftly closing the gap between the two racing boats,
+seemed to have just the stimulating effect he was looking for.
+
+“I know!” he almost shouted. “Didn’t you say that we can do better on a
+reach than a boat with a spinnaker can do downwind?”
+
+“That’s right,” Jerry said doubtfully. “But we have to sail a downwind
+course to get to shore.”
+
+“Well, what’s your hurry?” Sandy asked. “Why don’t we put off going
+ashore just now? I mean, if we take off on a reach, maybe we can lose
+Jones in the dark before he can change sails to follow us. If we can
+just put some distance between us, we can head back for shore later!”
+
+Jerry clapped Sandy on the shoulder and shouted, “You’re right!” Then he
+looked back at Jones’s boat, clear in shape, but not in detail. “I wish
+I could see how he has his spinnaker sheeted, but I can’t make it out.
+Still, let’s just take a chance.” He looked at Sandy in admiration.
+“Boy, you’re sure catching on fast! That was a real racing sailor’s
+idea!”
+
+Carefully selecting the best course to give their boat the most speed
+and to lose the least time in putting about, Jerry instructed Sandy.
+
+“We’re going to jibe,” he said, “but don’t worry. This is going to be
+deliberate, not accidental. It’s the accidental jibes that wreck the
+rigging. We’re going to put about this way so’s not to waste time
+shifting the genoa jib to the other side. As soon as I’ve got that
+whisker pole ready to come off, we’ll do it.”
+
+He went forward, and after a moment’s work, quickly returned to the
+cockpit. “Ready now,” Jerry said. “I’ll take the tiller and you take the
+mainsheet. As I start to put about, you haul in on the sheet, until the
+boom is right over the keel of the boat. Then I’ll put her hard over,
+and you let the sail out evenly on the other side until I say stop. Got
+it?”
+
+Sandy wasn’t sure, but he figured that this was no time for more
+detailed instruction on the art of the deliberate jibe. Holding the
+mainsheet, and his breath, he silently hoped that he knew what he was
+doing. One mistake now—the wrong kind of jibe, that could wreck the
+rigging—would surely put them back in Jones’s hands.
+
+He watched Jerry carefully, and, following his instructions, started to
+haul in on the mainsheet. It came very lightly and easily. Remembering
+the terrific force of the jibe on the first day’s sailing, though, Sandy
+knew enough not to be fooled by appearances. He shortened the sheet so
+that he would not be taken unawares when the wind caught the mainsail on
+its new tack.
+
+A few seconds of hauling and shortening brought the mainsail directly
+over the center of the boat, with the sheet securing it tightly against
+the dangerous sudden jibe. Then, as Jerry brought the sloop about hard
+on her new course, the wind took the sail. The boat heeled far over,
+leaning its lee side into the waves through which they were cutting with
+a new speed.
+
+Sandy held hard to the sheet, the pull of which was almost cutting his
+hand. The load of wind in the taut sail transmitted its strength to the
+sheet, and became a hauling, tug-of-war enemy.
+
+“Let her out!” Jerry shouted. “More! More! Okay ... hold her there!”
+Sandy felt some of the pull lessen as he allowed the sail to swing
+farther out over the side. “Good,” Jerry said. “Now take the tiller—hold
+everything as it is—while I free the jenny and trim it properly.”
+
+Sandy, the mainsheet wound tightly about his right hand, took the tiller
+in his left, while Jerry went forward to do his job. He was burning with
+eagerness to look back to see how their maneuver had affected Jones, but
+he didn’t dare. He had too much to think about to take his eyes away
+even for a second from his own work of sailing. This was the first time
+he had handled both the tiller and mainsheet and it was really the first
+time he had actually handled the boat. There was a new sense of command
+now and of real control. The feel of the boat was complete. It almost
+seemed alive. His hands told him how a change of rudder position worked
+a change on the sail, or how a shift of the mainsail, a few inches in or
+out, affected the pull on the helm.
+
+In a few minutes, Jerry was back in the cockpit, trimming the genoa
+sheet and setting the sail in its best shape ahead of and overlapping
+the mainsail. When all was made fast, he took the tiller from Sandy once
+more, and the boys were at last free to look back.
+
+What they saw was not encouraging. As they had expected, the change of
+course had increased the distance between them and Jones, but the
+distance was not great enough to take them out of sight. A few minutes
+of looking revealed that they were not likely to outdistance Jones on
+this tack any more than they had on the downwind run.
+
+“How come we can’t beat him?” Sandy asked. “He surely hasn’t had time to
+get his spinnaker down and his genoa up, has he?”
+
+“He didn’t have to,” Jerry answered. “He’s using his spinnaker now as if
+it were a genoa. It’s a good stunt. What he did was to bring the
+spinnaker pole forward and lash it to the deck, so that it made a kind
+of bowsprit. Then he sheeted the sail flat. It makes a powerful sail
+that way.”
+
+“What if he wants to go on the opposite tack?” Sandy asked. “How can he
+put about?”
+
+Jerry grinned. “I think you’ve done it again, Skipper,” he said. “That’s
+the best question you’ve asked all night!”
+
+“What do you mean?” Sandy asked, puzzled.
+
+“I mean that he can’t put about on the other tack without an awful lot
+of trouble. We can, and we will, and with luck we’ll lose him that way!”
+
+This time the maneuver was a familiar one of bringing the sloop up into
+the wind, shifting the genoa jib and coming off the wind to the new
+tack. It was performed smoothly, both boys working like an experienced
+crew.
+
+On the new tack, they looked about once more for Jones’s following
+sloop. As they had hoped, the strange zigzag they had described had left
+him far astern, but still in sight. Even as they watched, they saw Jones
+drop his spinnaker and re-rig it on the new tack. Once more, he was in
+pursuit!
+
+“I’ve never seen anyone handle sails that well,” Jerry said in unwilling
+admiration.
+
+“Do you think we can outmaneuver him?” Sandy asked.
+
+“Well, we might keep up the sort of thing we’ve been doing,” Jerry
+answered. “If we keep changing tacks, we can probably keep him out of
+close shooting range all night. Then, by morning, we can hope to see
+some other boats and maybe get help. There’s only one thing wrong with
+that plan, though.”
+
+“I know,” Sandy offered. “We’re all right as long as we don’t make any
+mistakes. But the minute we goof on one maneuver, we lose the race!
+Right?”
+
+“Right,” Jerry said. “Still, I don’t see what else we can do but try. We
+haven’t got much choice.” As they sailed on in silence, Sandy reviewed
+their situation. The trouble with their plan was a simple one. They had
+to do a perfect job of sailing, and he doubted whether they were up to
+it. All Jones had to do was follow their maneuvers, and when they made
+their first mistake, he would close in. There was no hope, he could see,
+in waiting for Jones to make the first mistake himself. The man was too
+good for that.
+
+If only they could find some new way to take the initiative, things
+might work out, Sandy thought. This cat-and-mouse game couldn’t possibly
+do any good. Besides, even if they could hold out till day-light, there
+was no guarantee that they would get help from any other boat before
+Jones could finish the job. After all, lack of light was all that was
+preventing Jones from firing at them now. When morning came, it would
+most likely be accompanied by a hail of shots!
+
+The more Sandy thought, the less it seemed that they could find a way
+out of their desperate straits. Then his gloomy thoughts were
+interrupted by Jerry.
+
+“Got any more ideas?” he asked. “I know it’s my turn to think up a good
+one, but I can’t seem to come up with a thing.”
+
+“I don’t know,” Sandy answered. “It seems to me though, that we’re going
+to have to do something really different now if we’re going to get back
+to shore in one piece!”
+
+Then he suddenly sat up straighter, pushing back his blond forelock.
+“Jerry! I think I have an idea!”
+
+“What is it?” Jerry asked eagerly.
+
+“It may sound crazy, but I want to go back on a downwind course again!”
+
+Jerry looked puzzled. “A downwind course? Sandy, we don’t have a chance
+that way! That’s the way we were sailing when Jones first started after
+us, and with his spinnaker in place, he’ll have us in no time!”
+
+“I know,” Sandy said, “but I have an idea that might work this time. I
+want Jones to get close—real close—to try this!”
+
+Jerry shook his head. “It sounds nutty to me,” he said, “but if you
+think you’ve got something that’ll work, I’m game. Just tell me
+what....”
+
+“Not now, Jerry,” Sandy cut him off. “Let’s just change course while I
+work out the details. If we don’t do this now, I might lose my nerve!”
+
+“I’ll do it,” Jerry agreed, shaking his head doubtfully from side to
+side. “But what worries me isn’t that you might lose your nerve. I’m
+afraid that you’ve already lost your mind!”
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER SIXTEEN
+                          The End of the Race
+
+
+It was still pitch-dark on the Pacific, miles off Cliffport, but Sandy
+saw a dim, gray smear of light in the east that told him dawn was not
+too far off. Dawn—and the shots it would bring from Jones and Turk!
+
+If his plan didn’t work now, it would never work, he knew. This was to
+be really a one-shot try! But better to try, he felt, than to tack
+aimlessly back and forth, waiting for Jones to close in.
+
+Almost mechanically, Sandy helped Jerry put the sloop about on her new
+course before the wind. Once again the genoa jib was held out
+wing-and-wing with the boat hook, and once again the mainsheet exercised
+only a light pull in his hand. With everything set, Sandy and Jerry
+turned their attention to the sloop behind them.
+
+The pursuing white sails shone dimly through the darkness as Jones
+followed them in their course. His spinnaker, released from its duty as
+a genoa, was once more flying full and round before him, taking
+advantage of every puff of wind at his back. It was a foregone
+conclusion that he would catch them now, unless they were even faster
+than before in putting about on some new tack.
+
+Jerry could not stand the suspense a moment longer. “Sandy, what are you
+going to do?” he cried. “Whatever it is, if we don’t do it now, we’re
+goners!”
+
+“Not yet,” Sandy muttered. “He’s got to get closer!”
+
+“If he gets any closer, he’s going to start shooting,” Jerry replied.
+“What do we do then?”
+
+“We’ve got to be ready for it,” Sandy answered. “I expect him to shoot,
+and I expect him to start pretty soon. In fact, we’d better get down as
+far as possible right now!”
+
+Both boys sat together on the cockpit deck, Jerry awkwardly steering and
+Sandy holding the mainsheet in his left hand. “You steer, Jerry,” he
+said. “I’m going to turn around so I can keep an eye on Jones. I expect
+the fireworks to start any minute now!”
+
+“I can do without the entertainment,” Jerry said. Then he added once
+more, “Boy, I sure hope you know what you’re doing! If you don’t....”
+His voice trailed off.
+
+Half kneeling, Sandy crouched by the stern seat, keeping as much under
+cover as possible. Over the edge of the afterdeck he saw Jones’s sloop,
+closer now than it had been ever since their fantastic race had begun.
+For some reason, Jones was holding back, not closing in as fast as he
+had been before. Sandy knew that he must be puzzled, and trying to
+figure out what their next move would be. His success depended on
+outthinking them as much as it did on outsailing them, and his skill lay
+largely in his ability to guess what maneuver the boys were going to try
+next. This time, Sandy thought, he must really be baffled. No one in his
+right mind would try to escape as they were doing!
+
+For minutes that seemed like hours, the chase continued with Jones
+making no effort to advance. Then, Sandy realized, Jones made up his
+mind to attack. His sails were trimmed fuller, his spinnaker lofted
+higher, and a white bow wave broke out to signify Jones’s new speed.
+There wasn’t much time left now before things would start popping!
+
+By now, less than one hundred yards separated the two boats. Not much
+more distance, Sandy thought, than a target range. Still, it wasn’t
+quite close enough....
+
+A shot! As they heard the crack of the pistol, the whine of the bullet
+passed overhead! Another shot—another—and a piece of the coaming
+splintered off uncomfortably close to Sandy’s ear!
+
+Jones’s boat surged on, preceded by a rain of shots. Now less than fifty
+yards of water were between them! More shots followed, mostly going
+through the sails. With a _thunk_, one hit the hull—another gouged up
+the deck—a third hit the tiller, not six inches from Jerry’s hand.
+
+Jerry’s face looked white as he craned his neck to look up at his
+friend. “Whatever you’re planning, I wish you’d tell me now,” he said.
+“Because I may not be around to see the big moment when it comes!”
+
+“You’ll be here,” Sandy said, “because the big moment is now! Turn
+around with me and watch Jones’s boat. If this works, it’s going to be
+something worth watching!”
+
+As Jerry changed his position, he saw for the first time that Sandy had
+the big brass flare gun in his hand! He was cocking it carefully, and
+keeping an eye on Jones’s sloop which seemed to be almost ready to ram
+them. Lying flat on the foredeck of the pursuing boat, they could
+clearly see the figure of Turk, hurriedly reloading his pistol.
+
+“You’re not going to try to shoot him with that?” Jerry said. “Those
+things are way too inaccurate! You won’t stand a chance!”
+
+“Not him,” Sandy said. “It!” He steadied the flare gun on the edge of
+the afterdeck and squinted down its length, aiming at the spinnaker!
+
+Seeing now what Sandy was attempting, Jerry crouched beside him and held
+his breath. Sandy waited till almost the last possible minute until,
+just as Turk was raising his pistol to fire once more, he released the
+flare.
+
+A dazzling arc of fire leaped from the brass muzzle straight for the
+bellying spinnaker! It landed in a shower of sparks, bright enough to
+show them Turk’s astonished face turned upward to see what had hit them.
+The shot had hit squarely in the center of the ballooning sail, burning
+a small, red-ringed hole which slowly spread.
+
+Would this be all? Just a spreading ring of coals that would die in a
+minute or two? If this was all, it was not enough! Then, just as Sandy
+was beginning to fear that he had made a mistake that might well cost
+them everything, the sail burst into flame!
+
+The column of fire shot straight upward into the blackness of the night,
+vividly illuminating both boats. In its brilliant light, the boys saw
+Turk stand up, black against the flames, then leap overboard.
+
+“One down!” Sandy said. “But what about Jones?”
+
+As the flaming spinnaker spread its fire to the mainsail and the mast,
+they saw Jones rise in the cockpit, level his rifle and shoot. Six shots
+rang out in quick succession, and all six whizzed harmlessly by. Then
+Jones flung his empty gun into the sea and turned his attention to the
+fire.
+
+Jerry and Sandy sailed slowly away from the flaming scene, and then
+started to sail in a circle around it, still watching Jones. He had
+gotten a bucket from below, and was throwing sea water, as fast as he
+could scoop it up, over the burning and the unburned parts of the sloop.
+The fire was gaining though, and his efforts were obviously doomed to
+failure.
+
+“If he hadn’t been so busy shooting when the fire started,” Jerry said,
+“he would have stood a good chance of putting it out. The delay is going
+to sink him!”
+
+Jones worked feverishly until the last possible moment, until the decks
+and the cabin were aflame, and the fire had spread to the little
+cockpit. Finally, when it was obvious that there was no more he could
+do, he kicked off his shoes and jumped over the side.
+
+“What do we do now?” Sandy asked. “We can’t just leave them there to
+drown. They probably deserve it, but I don’t think it’s up to us to
+judge what kind of sentence they get.”
+
+“You’re right,” Jerry agreed. “But if we take them aboard, we won’t
+stand much of a chance against them. Why don’t we try to find them and
+toss them a couple of life jackets so they can stay afloat while we make
+up our minds?”
+
+It was no trouble to find Turk, who came swimming up to the side to beg
+to be taken aboard. Sandy kept the empty flare pistol aimed at him while
+Jerry looked for the life jackets. When he had found them, he tossed one
+over the side, and Turk struggled into it. Then, still frightened of the
+flare gun which he did not know was empty, he held up his hands tamely
+to allow Jerry to tie them together.
+
+“Now will ya lemme come on board?” he pleaded.
+
+“I don’t think so,” Sandy answered. “I think you’ll be safer at the end
+of a long line. Just relax, and we’ll tow you back to shore!”
+
+With Turk in tow, the sloop handled rather sluggishly as the boys
+circled the scene of the fire searching for Jones. The bright light of
+the flames had died to a glowing, dull orange which was soon to go out
+altogether as the sloop settled lower and lower in the water.
+
+“What we need is a searchlight,” Jerry said. “We may never find him
+unless he swims to us the way Turk did!”
+
+“Listen!” Sandy said. “If I’m not mistaken, I hear a searchlight coming
+now!”
+
+Turning in the direction of the new sound of powerful marine motors,
+they were met with a bright searchlight beam, which swept from them to
+the burning sloop and back again. For the first time since their
+adventure had started, Sandy felt a genuine feeling of relief, as the
+Coast Guard cutter reversed its engines and came to a neat stop
+alongside.
+
+
+
+
+                           CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
+                           Another Discovery
+
+
+With the arrival of the Coast Guard, the problem of finding Jones solved
+itself. He quickly realized the hopelessness of his position and swam in
+from the darkness toward the cutter and the sloop, tamely giving himself
+up.
+
+It was only after he and Turk had both been taken on board the Coast
+Guard vessel and placed under guard that the captain of the cutter,
+Lieutenant Ames, started to ask the necessary questions.
+
+He listened, absorbed in the story, until Sandy had finished talking.
+Then he sighed. “That’s quite a yarn, boys. It sounds pretty wild. For
+your sakes, I hope that you can show some evidence to back it up.
+Otherwise, all we have is your word. Now, your word may be good enough
+for me—” he held up a hand to forestall Sandy’s objections—“but it’s
+going to take more than that to make a charge of counterfeiting stick in
+a court of law.”
+
+“We’ve _got_ more than that!” Sandy said angrily. “We can show you the
+island, and unless I miss my guess, we’ll find Jones’s counterfeiting
+presses there!”
+
+“I hope so,” Lieutenant Ames said. “Meanwhile, since you’ve made charges
+against these men, I’ll hold them in custody until we get ashore. Then
+I’ll turn them and the whole case over to the FBI, where it belongs.”
+
+His official statement done, Lieutenant Ames relaxed into a boyish grin.
+“You can get those scowls off your faces now,” he said. “I just wanted
+you to realize that we’ve got to have good, solid proof before this
+business is over with. As for me, I believe your story, and I think the
+FBI will, too.”
+
+“I’m not too worried about proving our story about Jones and Turk,”
+Sandy said. “But what worries me is how we’re going to get the
+freighter, now that it’s out of U.S. coastal waters.”
+
+“The Navy will take care of them,” Lieutenant Ames said. “But that
+reminds me, you didn’t tell me the name of the freighter, and we’ll need
+to radio that to the Navy right away.”
+
+“I noticed the name on the lifeboat,” Jerry said. “It was the _Mary N.
+Smith_, from Weymouth.”
+
+“No!” Sandy said. “You must have gotten it mixed up in the darkness. I
+saw it clear as day on the stern. It was the _Martin South_ from
+Yarmouth!”
+
+“I’m sure I had it right,” Jerry said. “I remember thinking to myself
+that it was a pretty innocent, girlish name for such a dirty freighter!”
+
+“Maybe you’re both right,” Lieutenant Ames said. “It sounds to me as if
+both names have a lot in common. They probably have a set of phony
+papers under each name—and maybe under three or four more names that
+sound a lot like those. That way, all they have to do is paint out and
+change a few letters after each port, instead of having the whole job to
+do. It allows them to make quick shifts of identity.”
+
+“It also lets them explain that they were picked up because of an
+accidental similarity of names, in case of trouble,” Jerry put in. “I
+wonder what name they’re using now,” he added.
+
+“That’s pretty easy to guess,” the Coast Guard officer said. “If I were
+changing names after leaving a port, I’d paint the bow and stern while I
+was at anchor, and leave the lifeboats and other things for when I was
+at sea. My guess is that we’ll find them sailing as the _Martin South_
+from Yarmouth.”
+
+“Unless,” Sandy added, “unless they decided to change it to something
+else while at sea, after the trouble. After all, they have no idea
+whether Jones got us or we got him, and they’ll probably be expecting to
+get picked up.”
+
+“Well, we won’t take any chances,” Ames said. “I’ll radio the Navy now
+to be on the lookout for any freighter with a name anything like _Martin
+South_ or _Mary N. Smith_. And if I know those boys, we’ll have a report
+on them within the next few hours!”
+
+After giving his instructions to the radio operator, Ames decided it was
+time to head for shore and turn over Jones, Turk and the boys to the
+FBI. It was decided to take the sloop in tow behind the cutter, and
+Sandy went over the side to find a towing line to hand up to the
+cutter’s deck.
+
+“Come on over with me,” Sandy said, “and I’ll show you some of the
+bullet holes we’re carrying. They ought to help support our story!”
+
+Lieutenant Ames followed Sandy over the side and joined him on the deck
+of the little sloop, where he examined the holes in the sail and the
+furrows in the deck and the coamings. “They sure came close!” he said.
+“You’re pretty lucky to be here in one piece now.” He ran his finger
+thoughtfully along a deep scar in the coaming near where Sandy’s head
+had been, and whistled low when he saw the splintered spot on the
+tiller.
+
+Lieutenant Ames followed Sandy below in search of the spare mooring
+line. (The original one had been left dangling from the deck of the
+freighter.) He stood stooped over in the low cabin, surveying the trim
+accommodations. At last, Sandy found a line that would do, stowed away
+up forward with the anchor.
+
+Joining Ames in the cabin, he pointed to the locker above the compact
+galley. “There’s where we found the money when we went looking for the
+canned food,” he said. “It was filled up all the way to here,” he
+indicated, sliding back the locker door.
+
+“What do you mean, _was_?” the Coast Guard officer asked with a gasp.
+The open locker door revealed the stacked counterfeit, untouched, just
+as the boys had first seen it!
+
+“Whew!” Sandy sighed. “Well, I guess _that_ takes care of our case
+against Jones!”
+
+As they towed the sloop back to Cliffport, heading into the bright
+colors of a Pacific sunrise, they pieced together what must have
+happened.
+
+“From what we overheard on the freighter,” Sandy said, “Jones and the
+freighter captain were both dissatisfied with the original deal they had
+made for the counterfeit money. Jones wanted more for the stuff, because
+of the risk he had run with us and because of the added chances he was
+taking if we disappeared from Cliffport. A local investigation of our
+disappearance might turn up someone who had seen us near his island.”
+
+“Right,” Jerry added. “And the Captain wanted a larger share than usual
+for himself because of the risk he was running in getting rid of us for
+Jones. They bargained about it for a long time.”
+
+Lieutenant Ames nodded. “And Jones wasn’t taking any chances by bringing
+the money on board until his deal had been settled. He must have been
+going for it when you saw him and the Captain shaking hands on deck. And
+the reason he was so desperate when he saw you sailing off was that he
+knew you were not only escaping, but escaping with the evidence!”
+
+“I guess it’s not always a bad thing,” Sandy laughed, “to make the same
+mistake twice!”
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
+                             Homeward Bound
+
+
+Three days later, the case ended where it had really begun—back in the
+Cliffport Boat Yard. Only this time, Sandy and Jerry picked their way
+over the timbers and rails with Lieutenant Ames instead of with Sandy’s
+Uncle Russ.
+
+“I guess you boys are glad this is all over,” he said. “I suppose you’re
+all set for your trip home now?”
+
+“We sure are,” Jerry said. “We just need to buy a few things, and we’re
+ready.”
+
+“It was sure nice of the FBI to let us have Jones’s sloop as part of the
+reward,” Sandy added. “I felt pretty bad when I saw my boat on fire. I
+was sure that if we ever got back to shore, we’d be taking the train
+home!”
+
+“There was no sense in keeping it,” Ames said. “Not even for evidence.
+We had all the evidence we needed with that bundle of counterfeit
+money—and even more than that, with the printing press and the plates we
+found at Jones’s little resort. And everyone agreed that you ought to
+have it.”
+
+They walked along the sea wall until they reached the corner of the
+shed, where Lieutenant Ames suddenly stopped. “As long as you’re
+thanking the FBI for the boat,” he said, “I think you might as well
+thank the Coast Guard too!”
+
+“Well, of course,” Sandy said, puzzled. “I only meant that it was the
+FBI who really had title to it, and they were the ones who decided.... I
+mean, we’re grateful to you all.”
+
+Ames laughed. “I don’t want to keep you in the dark,” he said. “The FBI
+gave you the boat, all right, but we decided to pitch in a little, too.
+Look!”
+
+They turned the corner of the boat-yard shed. In front of them, resting
+in a high cradle, was the sloop, freshly painted and gleaming in the
+sun, her sides as smooth as glass.
+
+After both boys had thanked Lieutenant Ames profusely, Jerry asked, “How
+did you ever get so much done in just three days?”
+
+“Oh, that’s the Coast Guard way with boats,” Ames said and he laughed.
+“A whole gang of the boys decided to go to work on her, and we did in
+three days what would take most boat yards a week or two. It started
+when we decided to fix up the bullet scars, and it just didn’t stop
+until we had finished the whole thing!”
+
+Climbing to the deck, they inspected the newly painted cabin and
+cockpit, the freshly varnished coamings and mast, the almost invisible
+repairs on the decks.
+
+“We’ll have her launched within the next hour,” Lieutenant Ames said.
+“Why don’t you go into town to buy whatever you need in the meanwhile?
+It shouldn’t take you too long to get stores for a short trip.”
+
+“That’s a good idea,” Sandy said. “But we’re going to need more than the
+regular stores. I’m going to spend some of that reward money right away
+on a new spinnaker. That’s one thing I’ve decided never to be without
+again!”
+
+“Not only that,” Jerry added, “but we want to get some more shells for
+the flare pistol. I don’t think I’ll ever feel comfortable without that
+on board!”
+
+“There’s something else, too,” Sandy said. “I think we ought to think up
+a name for this boat right away, and pick up some brass letters for the
+stern. I don’t want to keep on making mistakes!”
+
+Ames joined in the laughter, then said, “That’s one thing I think you
+don’t have to do. That is, unless you don’t like the name the Coast
+Guard picked out for you!”
+
+Rushing to the stern, Sandy and Jerry leaned over to see the shiny brass
+letters screwed to the counter of their sloop. Looked at upside down,
+they spelled:
+
+                                 REWARD
+
+
+                        SANDY STEELE ADVENTURES
+
+                           1. BLACK TREASURE
+
+Sandy Steele and Quiz spend an action-filled summer in the oil fields of
+the Southwest. In their search for oil and uranium, they unmask a
+dangerous masquerader.
+
+                      2. DANGER AT MORMON CROSSING
+
+On a hunting trip in the Lost River section of Idaho, Sandy and Mike
+ride the rapids, bag a mountain lion, and stumble onto the answer to a
+hundred-year-old mystery.
+
+                            3. STORMY VOYAGE
+
+Sandy and Jerry James ship as deck hands on one of the “long boats” of
+the Great Lakes. They are plunged into a series of adventures and find
+themselves involved in a treacherous plot.
+
+                          4. FIRE AT RED LAKE
+
+Sandy and his friends pitch in to fight a forest fire in Minnesota. Only
+they and Sandy’s uncle know that there is an unexploded A-bomb in the
+area to add to the danger.
+
+                      5. SECRET MISSION TO ALASKA
+
+A pleasant Christmas trip turns into a startling adventure. Sandy and
+Jerry participate in a perilous dog-sled race, encounter a wounded bear,
+and are taken as hostages by a ruthless enemy.
+
+                           6. TROUBLED WATERS
+
+When Sandy and Jerry mistakenly sail off in a stranger’s sloop instead
+of their own, they land in a sea of trouble. Their attempts to
+outmaneuver a desperate crew are intertwined with fascinating sailing
+lore.
+
+PUBLISHED BY SIMON AND SCHUSTER
+
+
+
+
+      *      *      *      *      *      *
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber’s note:
+
+--Copyright notice provided as in the original—this e-text is public
+  domain in the country of publication.
+
+--Silently corrected apparent typographical errors; left non-standard
+  spellings and dialect unchanged.
+
+--In the original, the last word in the text was printed upside down.
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 50353 ***
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-<h1 class="pg">The Project Gutenberg eBook, Troubled Waters, by Robert Leckie</h1>

-<p class="pg">This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States

-and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no

-restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it

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-<p class="pg">Title: Troubled Waters</p>

-<p class="pg">       Sandy Steele Adventures #6</p>

-<p class="pg">Author: Robert Leckie</p>

-<p class="pg">Release Date: October 31, 2015  [eBook #50353]</p>

-<p class="pg">Language: English</p>

-<p class="pg">Character set encoding: UTF-8</p>

-<p class="pg">***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TROUBLED WATERS***</p>

-<p>&nbsp;</p>

-<h3 class="pg">E-text prepared by Stephen Hutcheson, Dave Morgan,<br />

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-<img id="coverpage" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Troubled Waters" width="500" height="775" />

-</div>

-<p class="center">SANDY STEELE ADVENTURES</p>

-<p class="center"><span class="sc">Black Treasure</span>

-<br /><span class="sc">Danger at Mormon Crossing</span>

-<br /><span class="sc">Stormy Voyage</span>

-<br /><span class="sc">Fire at Red Lake</span>

-<br /><span class="sc">Secret Mission to Alaska</span>

-<br /><span class="sc">Troubled Waters</span></p>

-<div class="box">

-<h1>Sandy Steele Adventures<br />

-<br /><i>TROUBLED WATERS</i></h1>

-<p class="tbcenter">BY ROGER BARLOW</p>

-<p class="tbcenter"><span class="small">SIMON AND SCHUSTER</span>

-<br /><i>New York, 1959</i></p>

-</div>

-<p class="csmaller">ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

-<br />INCLUDING THE RIGHT OF REPRODUCTION

-<br />IN WHOLE OR IN PART IN ANY FORM

-<br />COPYRIGHT &copy; 1959 BY SIMON AND SCHUSTER, INC.

-<br />PUBLISHED BY SIMON AND SCHUSTER, INC.

-<br />ROCKEFELLER CENTER, 630 FIFTH AVENUE

-<br />NEW YORK 20, N. Y.</p>

-<p class="csmaller">FIRST PRINTING</p>

-<p class="csmaller">LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOG CARD NUMBER: 59-13882

-<br />MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

-<br />BY H. WOLFF BOOK MFG. CO., INC., NEW YORK</p>

-<h2 class="toc">CONTENTS</h2>

-<dl class="toc">

-<dt class="jr"><span class="jl"><span class="small">CHAPTER</span></span> <span class="small">PAGE</span></dt>

-<dt><span class="cn">1 </span><a href="#c1">An Unusual Gift</a> 9</dt>

-<dt><span class="cn">2 </span><a href="#c2">Make Ready to Sail!</a> 20</dt>

-<dt><span class="cn">3 </span><a href="#c3">Shakedown Cruise</a> 33</dt>

-<dt><span class="cn">4 </span><a href="#c4">The Man with the Gun</a> 51</dt>

-<dt><span class="cn">5 </span><a href="#c5">Storm Fears</a> 67</dt>

-<dt><span class="cn">6 </span><a href="#c6">Something Lost&mdash;Something Found!</a> 75</dt>

-<dt><span class="cn">7 </span><a href="#c7">A Million Dollars&rsquo; Worth of Trouble</a> 82</dt>

-<dt><span class="cn">8 </span><a href="#c8">Double Blackout</a> 87</dt>

-<dt><span class="cn">9 </span><a href="#c9">To the Freighter</a> 97</dt>

-<dt><span class="cn">10 </span><a href="#c10">Aboard the Floating Prison</a> 108</dt>

-<dt><span class="cn">11 </span><a href="#c11">Escape to Danger</a> 120</dt>

-<dt><span class="cn">12 </span><a href="#c12">The Race Begins</a> 136</dt>

-<dt><span class="cn">13 </span><a href="#c13">A Race of Mistaken Identity</a> 146</dt>

-<dt><span class="cn">14 </span><a href="#c14">Slow-Motion Chase</a> 153</dt>

-<dt><span class="cn">15 </span><a href="#c15">Turn and Turn Again</a> 160</dt>

-<dt><span class="cn">16 </span><a href="#c16">The End of the Race</a> 169</dt>

-<dt><span class="cn">17 </span><a href="#c17">Another Discovery</a> 177</dt>

-<dt><span class="cn">18 </span><a href="#c18">Homeward Bound</a> 183</dt>

-</dl>

-<div class="img">

-<img src="images/pmg006.jpg" alt="CLIFFPORT CALIFORNIA" width="500" height="551" />

-<p class="center i">CLIFFPORT CALIFORNIA</p>

-</div>

-<div class="img">

-<img src="images/pmg006a.jpg" alt="SLOOP" width="500" height="452" />

-<p class="center i">SLOOP</p>

-</div>

-<dl class="int"><dt>(1) <i>Mainsail</i></dt>

-<dt>(2) <i>Jib</i></dt>

-<dt>(3) <i>Mast</i></dt>

-<dt>(4) <i>Boom</i></dt>

-<dt>(5) <i>Shrouds</i> (<i>standing rigging</i>)</dt>

-<dt>(6) <i>Headstay</i> (<span class="hst"> &rdquo;</span><span class="hst"> &rdquo;</span><span class="hst"> )</span></dt>

-<dt>(7) <i>Backstay</i> (<span class="hst"> &rdquo;</span><span class="hst"> &rdquo;</span><span class="hst"> )</span></dt>

-<dt>(8) <i>Rudder</i></dt>

-<dt>(9) <i>Tiller</i></dt>

-<dt>(10) <i>Mainsheet</i></dt>

-<dt>(11) <i>Hawk</i></dt>

-<dt>(12) <i>Halyards</i></dt></dl>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_9">9</div>

-<h2 id="c1"><span class="small">CHAPTER ONE</span>

-<br />An Unusual Gift</h2>

-<p>Sandy Steele slowly put down the phone and

-pushed his blond cowlick back from his brow. Excitement

-and confusion were mixed in equal parts

-in his expression as he turned to his father, John

-Steele, who stood leaning against his workbench,

-idly tossing a piece of quartz crystal in the air.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Wow!&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;Leave it to Uncle Russ to

-come up with a real surprise!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;It certainly seems to be a habit of his,&rdquo; John

-Steele smiled. &ldquo;What do you think of this particular

-surprise?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I hardly know what to think,&rdquo; Sandy answered.

-&ldquo;The question is, what do you and Mother think?

-I mean, is it all right if I go&mdash;if I can find somebody

-to go with me?&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_10">10</div>

-<p>&ldquo;Your mother and I discussed this with your

-Uncle Russ before he called you,&rdquo; Sandy&rsquo;s father

-said, &ldquo;so I guess that&rsquo;s one worry you don&rsquo;t have

-to consider. The only problem you have is finding

-somebody who knows how to handle a boat, and

-who&rsquo;ll be interested in making this trip with you.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Wrinkling his forehead in thought, Sandy swung

-his gangling six-foot frame up on to the workbench

-next to his father. &ldquo;How about you, Dad?&rdquo;

-he asked. &ldquo;Do you know anything about sailing

-a boat?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>His father shook his head. &ldquo;Sailing is hardly a

-skill that a government field geologist needs to

-develop. My work is with rocks and minerals&mdash;the

-dryest kind of dry land. What I know about water,

-you could carve on granite and put in your watch

-pocket!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Geology didn&rsquo;t make you into an inventor, a

-chemist, an electrical engineer, a carpenter and

-gosh knows what else,&rdquo; Sandy answered, waving

-around him at the crowded workshop with its confusing

-mass of equipment. &ldquo;I just thought you

-might have done some reading on this subject,

-too.&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_11">11</div>

-<p>John Steele smiled. &ldquo;As the proud but confused

-owner of a new sailboat, one of the first things

-you&rsquo;ll learn is that there&rsquo;s a world of difference

-between theory and practice. I&rsquo;ve been out on a

-boat a few times; years ago, though. I&rsquo;ve also read

-some books on the subject, as you thought. But all

-I know is that I don&rsquo;t know anything.&rdquo; He put

-down the quartz crystal and moved away from the

-workbench. &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;if you&rsquo;re going to be

-able to accept your Uncle Russ&rsquo;s offer of a sailboat

-as a gift, and if you&rsquo;re going to sail it on a three-day

-trip down from Cliffport, you&rsquo;ll have to find

-someone with practical knowledge to help you

-do it.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Sandy frowned in concentration. &ldquo;Finding a

-sailor in Valley View is going to be like finding

-a ski instructor in the Sahara Desert!&rdquo; he said.

-&ldquo;Why, this town is almost one hundred miles inland

-from the ocean!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s true,&rdquo; John Steele said; &ldquo;but it seems

-to me that I once heard you and one of your

-friends talking about sailing. If I&rsquo;m not mistaken,

-it was Jerry James, and it sounded to me at the

-time as if he knew what he was talking about.&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_12">12</div>

-<p>&ldquo;Of course!&rdquo; Sandy said, slapping his forehead

-in exasperation. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know why I didn&rsquo;t think

-of it! Jerry was a Sea Scout in Oceanhead before

-his family moved to Valley View. It&rsquo;s just that he&rsquo;s

-become so much a part of this town that I forget

-he didn&rsquo;t grow up here with the rest of us. I think

-he was a Sea Scout for about three years, and he

-had been sailing before he ever joined up. I&rsquo;m

-sure he can do it!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; his father said, &ldquo;you&rsquo;d better hunt him

-up fast and find out whether he can and will. Your

-uncle expects us to call him back within a couple

-of hours to give him an answer, because he&rsquo;s leaving

-the country in two days and he wants to get

-this settled before he goes.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>He had hardly finished his sentence before

-Sandy was out of the workshop, on his bike, and

-tearing down the tree-shaded street. He was sure

-that Jerry would be able to do it! He remembered

-their conversation well, now that his father had

-reminded him of it, and he recalled that Jerry had

-said that he practically grew up on boats, and that

-they were the only thing that he missed since moving

-to Valley View. In the close friendship that

-had grown up between them in the last couple of

-years, Sandy could not think of one time that Jerry

-had promised something that he did not deliver.

-If he said he could do something, he could do it!

-Sandy smiled, remembering Jerry&rsquo;s early days in

-Valley View, his modest admission that he &ldquo;could

-play a little baseball,&rdquo; and his first day on the

-diamond. Jerry had immediately shown himself

-to be the best high school catcher in the county.

-With Sandy as pitcher, they had developed into

-an almost unbeatable battery.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_13">13</div>

-<p>As he pedaled toward the drugstore owned by

-Jerry&rsquo;s father, Sandy hoped that they would be

-able to carry their teamwork on in this new venture.

-He could still hardly believe his Uncle Russ&rsquo;s

-offer of a sailboat, provided he could find someone

-to teach him how to sail. Like most boys, he had

-read and enjoyed sea stories, although many of the

-words used were strange and meaningless to him.

-In his reading, he had often pictured himself at

-sea, steering a tall ship through white-capped seas.

-A confused series of sailing words went through

-his mind: bow, stern, helm, topgallant sails, mizzen,

-poop deck, quarter-deck, galley, batten the

-hatches, go aloft....</p>

-<p>He was suddenly brought back to land as he

-narrowly missed running his bike into Pepper

-March, who refused to hurry for a mere bike.

-Putting the sea dreams firmly out of his mind, he

-continued more carefully until he pulled up in

-front of James&rsquo;s Drugstore, where he put his bike

-in the rack under the green-and-white striped

-awning and hurried into the cool, vanilla-smelling store.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_14">14</div>

-<p>Jerry was behind the counter, making up a pineapple

-ice-cream soda for Quiz Taylor who, with

-two empty glasses in front of him, was impatiently

-waiting for the third.</p>

-<p>Sandy climbed onto the stool next to the stubby

-Quiz and impatiently waited until Jerry was

-through making the soda. When the concoction

-was safely delivered into Quiz&rsquo;s eager hands, Sandy

-said, &ldquo;Jerry, I&rsquo;ve got some real exciting news! In

-fact, it&rsquo;s so exciting that I didn&rsquo;t want to tell you

-while you still had that soda in your hands. I was

-afraid you&rsquo;d toss the whole thing into the air!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Having firmly secured both his friends&rsquo; attention,

-Sandy told them about the phone call from

-his Uncle Russ, the offer of the boat, the need for

-instruction and the whole story. When he had

-finished, Jerry&rsquo;s lantern-jawed face was lit up with

-a 500-watt grin.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;It sounds as if this is going to be the best vacation

-of my life!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;A boat! I can hardly

-wait to get going!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Sandy sighed with relief. &ldquo;Then you&rsquo;re sure you

-can handle it?&rdquo; he asked.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_15">15</div>

-<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s a good question,&rdquo; Jerry said, running a

-hand over his close-cropped inky hair. &ldquo;To tell

-you the truth, I don&rsquo;t know because you haven&rsquo;t

-told me yet what kind of a boat it is. There are

-plenty that I wouldn&rsquo;t even say I could act as a

-decent crew member on. Do you know what kind

-it is?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Why ... why ... it&rsquo;s a sailboat!&rdquo; Sandy

-said. &ldquo;I mean, that&rsquo;s all I know about it. Does it

-make much difference?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Jerry laughed. &ldquo;There are almost as many different

-kinds of boats as there are people,&rdquo; he said.

-&ldquo;Nobody but a real Master Mariner would just

-answer that he could sail anything. It&rsquo;s like being

-an airplane pilot. If you got your pilot&rsquo;s license

-flying a Piper Cub, you wouldn&rsquo;t be exactly ready

-to fly a four-engine jet bomber!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Still,&rdquo; Quiz interrupted thoughtfully, &ldquo;the

-principle remains the same in both. It&rsquo;s simply a

-question of creating a high-speed airstream, so

-directed as to pass over and under an aerodynamically

-shaped surface which, because of the varying

-degree of arc and the cambered sections and

-angle of attack, produces a lift, drag and momentum

-proportional to the density of the air, the

-square of the speed and the area of the wing or

-airfoil. It&rsquo;s simple! What&rsquo;s more, a sailboat works

-the same way.&rdquo; Looking pleased with himself,

-Quiz happily returned his attention to the pineapple

-soda.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_16">16</div>

-<p>&ldquo;Why, Quiz!&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t know you

-could fly!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Fly!&rdquo; Quiz looked up from his soda with a

-grimace. &ldquo;The very thought of flying makes me

-sick. If I don&rsquo;t hold on to the banister, I get dizzy

-when I go up to bed at night!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>All three boys laughed, for this side of Quiz&rsquo;s

-personality was a standing joke with them. Quiz,

-formally known as Clyde Benson Taylor, was

-a virtual encyclopedia of obscure information.

-While he could tell you vast amounts about nearly

-every human activity, the very idea of taking part

-in an activity usually upset him.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;So much for theory,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;Now, to get

-back to the practical realities of sailing a boat&mdash;I&rsquo;d

-have to know a few things about the kind of

-sailboat you have before I&rsquo;d be willing to give an

-answer. There are all kinds of boats, of all different

-sizes. There are sloops, cats, cutters, yawls,

-ketches, schooners and a hundred variations. Did

-your Uncle Russ give you any idea of what he has

-for you?&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_17">17</div>

-<p>&ldquo;I think he said it was a sloop,&rdquo; Sandy said.

-&ldquo;And he did say that while it was large enough to

-sleep on and take out on a cruise, it was a pretty

-small boat. He said that anyone who knew how to

-sail would know how to handle it.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;That sounds right to me,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t

-think that he&rsquo;d want to start you off with a complicated

-rig or a big boat. If it&rsquo;s the kind of thing

-I think it is, I&rsquo;m sure I can sail it, and teach you

-too.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Will I have to learn all about yardarms and

-fore-topgallant sails and things like that?&rdquo; Sandy

-asked, somewhat doubtfully.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Not for quite a while,&rdquo; Jerry laughed. &ldquo;You&rsquo;ve

-been reading too many books about pirates and

-whalers in the old days. You only find all those

-complicated sail and rigging names on the big

-square-rigged ships&mdash;the ones with three and

-four masts. If your boat is a sloop, it only has one

-mast, one mainsail, and a choice of maybe three

-other sails, flown one at a time with the mainsail.

-There&rsquo;s nothing much to learn compared with the

-old full-rigged ships with up to four masts.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Five,&rdquo; Quiz said.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I never heard of one with more than four,&rdquo;

-Jerry commented.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_18">18</div>

-<p>As if he were reading from a book buried deep

-in his pineapple soda, Quiz mumbled around the

-straws, &ldquo;The steel ship <i>Preussen</i> was the only five-mast

-full-rigged ship ever built. It was 408 feet

-long, had masts 223 feet high, yardarms over 100

-feet long and 47 sails totaling 50,000 square feet.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Even though Sandy was used to this sort of thing

-from Quiz, he was more impressed than usual.

-&ldquo;How would you like to come with us, Quiz?&rdquo; he

-asked.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Who, me?&rdquo; Quiz looked shocked. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t

-know the first thing about boats! No, thanks&mdash;I&rsquo;ll

-stay safe ashore!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>The next half hour was spent in excitedly discussing

-the trip to come, the possibilities of sailing,

-the things Sandy would have to learn, and the

-equipment that he and Jerry would have to take

-along. Finally Sandy remembered that his Uncle

-Russ was expecting a phone call, and that Jerry

-still had to get his parents&rsquo; permission to make the

-trip. They agreed to go back to Sandy&rsquo;s house and

-let John Steele make the call to Jerry&rsquo;s father so

-that the adults could satisfy themselves about the

-wisdom of letting the boys take a three-day cruise

-for Sandy&rsquo;s first trip.</p>

-<p>Leaving Quiz in charge of the drugstore&rsquo;s soda

-fountain, they quickly hiked to the Steele home,

-where Sandy&rsquo;s father agreed to make the call.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_19">19</div>

-<p>Getting Jerry&rsquo;s parents&rsquo; consent to the trip

-proved not to be a difficult task. Mr. and Mrs.

-James obviously had a good deal of confidence in

-Jerry&rsquo;s ability to handle a sailboat, and both sets

-of parents felt that their level-headed sixteen-year-olds

-could take such a trip on their own. In short

-order, all of the details were worked out, and

-Sandy was once more on the long-distance phone

-to speak with his Uncle Russ in San Francisco.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s okay!&rdquo; he shouted, as soon as his uncle

-answered the telephone. &ldquo;Jerry James, my best

-friend, used to be a Sea Scout and knows all about

-boats. His parents say he&rsquo;s a good sailor. We&rsquo;re

-ready to start any time you want!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>He listened for a minute to his uncle, then said,

-&ldquo;Swell! We&rsquo;ll be ready. And thanks a million for

-the boat!&rdquo; Hanging up the phone, he turned to

-his father, mother and Jerry with a wide grin.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Uncle Russ sure doesn&rsquo;t waste any time,&rdquo; he

-said. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s leaving now and expects to be down

-here tonight. He says that we&rsquo;d better get all

-packed and ready, because he wants to take us up

-to Cliffport tomorrow morning, and we&rsquo;ll have to

-leave here by six o&rsquo;clock!&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_20">20</div>

-<h2 id="c2"><span class="small">CHAPTER TWO</span>

-<br />Make Ready to Sail!</h2>

-<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s one good thing about riding in this

-little sports car,&rdquo; Sandy said, and laughed as he

-eased his cramped six-foot length out of his Uncle

-Russ&rsquo;s low-slung red racer. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s going to make

-the sailboat seem as roomy as a yacht in comparison!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Sandy pushed his cowlick out of his eyes and

-stretched as his uncle and his friend Jerry followed

-him out of the little car.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_21">21</div>

-<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t worry about the size of the boat,&rdquo; Jerry

-said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll guarantee that it&rsquo;s going to seem pretty

-big and complicated, no matter how small it actually

-is, until you&rsquo;ve learned how to sail it. In

-fact, you&rsquo;re going to find that a boat is a whole new

-world, full of all kinds of new things to get used

-to. And from what your uncle told us about this

-one, it&rsquo;ll be more than big enough to keep us both

-busy for a couple of summers to come.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I feel as if we&rsquo;re in a whole new world already,&rdquo;

-Sandy replied, &ldquo;and we&rsquo;re not even on

-board yet!&rdquo; He looked about him at the beehive

-of activity that was the Cliffport Boat Yard. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve

-never seen anything like this before!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>From all sides came the sounds of hammering

-and sawing, and the thin whine of electric sanders.

-The brisk, salty smell of the sea was mingled with

-the sharp odors of paint, varnish and turpentine

-and the peculiar, half-sweet smell of marine engine

-fuel.</p>

-<p>Boats of every size and description were ranged

-about them. Towering high above them, resting

-in specially built cradles, were long hulls with

-deep, weighted keels like giant fins under them.

-Heavy frames and timbers held these boats upright,

-and ladders leaned against them to where

-their decks joined their sides, high overhead. Men

-scrambled up and down the ladders with tools and

-equipment, or sat on the scaffolds and frames,

-painting.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_22">22</div>

-<p>Smaller craft without keels were braced in

-cradles or frames on the ground, or lay bottoms

-up on racks made of heavy beams that looked

-like railroad ties. Some of the boats were having

-their bottoms scraped, some were being sanded,

-others were in the process of painting.</p>

-<p>At one nearby boat, Sandy saw men hammering

-on the bottom of the hull with big wooden

-mallets. Jerry explained that these were calking

-hammers, and that they were used to drive oakum

-into the seams between the planks to make the

-boats watertight for sailing. When the boats were

-put in the water later on, he added, the planks

-would swell and form waterproof joints where the

-planks met.</p>

-<p>On both sides, lines of railroad tracks led from

-the boat yard and the big sheds straight down to

-the water&rsquo;s edge and on into the water. Boats on

-wheeled flatcars stood on the rails here and there,

-ready to be eased down the tracks into the water

-for launching. Jerry explained how, when the flatcars

-with their cradles had gone down the slope

-and were under water, the boats simply floated

-away from them. Then the launching device

-would be hauled back up the tracks for use on

-another boat.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_23">23</div>

-<p>Sandy looked about him in bewilderment at

-the variety of boats in the yard. There were small

-boats with one mast, larger ones with two, cabin

-cruisers with no masts at all, and one sleek, beautiful,

-black-hulled boat with three tall masts. He

-was just beginning to think that he had found

-some relationship between the size of the boat and

-the number of masts when he spotted what appeared

-to be one of the largest hulls in the boat

-yard, with one immense mast. Next to it was a far

-smaller boat with two. Sandy thought to himself

-that there didn&rsquo;t appear to be any simple rules to

-the business of boat designing. All in all the bustling

-Cliffport Boat Yard was a thoroughly confusing

-sight for Sandy, and a pretty exciting one,

-too.</p>

-<p>As a matter of fact, the entire last two days had

-been pretty confusing and exciting, Sandy reflected.

-Just two days ago, he had started on his

-spring vacation from Valley View High School

-with not a thing to do but loaf around home. Now,

-suddenly, he was the owner of a sailboat he had

-never seen, and he was preparing to take a two-hundred-mile

-cruise down the coast! A two-hundred-mile

-cruise&mdash;and he had never even been on

-board a sailboat!</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_24">24</div>

-<p>Looking at the maze of masts and rigging

-around him, Sandy sensed for the first time some

-of the complications of handling a boat. Laying a

-hand on his friend&rsquo;s shoulder, he said, &ldquo;Boy, Jerry,

-I sure hope you can sail this boat alone! If what

-I see around me is a sample, I&rsquo;m afraid I&rsquo;m going

-to be too confused to do more than just watch you

-and maybe ask a few simple-minded questions!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t worry about it,&rdquo; Jerry said with a grin.

-&ldquo;It&rsquo;s not anywhere near as complicated as it looks

-at first sight. I learned to handle a boat fairly well

-in just a few summers at the shore, plus some instruction

-in the Sea Scouts, and I didn&rsquo;t even have

-my own boat so that I could sail regularly. One

-season of working your own boat will probably

-turn you into a first-rate skipper!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Then Jerry frowned for a minute and ran his

-hand over his hair. &ldquo;Speaking of being a skipper,&rdquo;

-he began awkwardly, &ldquo;you realize, I guess, that I&rsquo;ll

-have to act as skipper of this boat at first? I mean,

-I know it&rsquo;s your boat and all, but....&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Sandy laughed. &ldquo;You go right ahead and take

-charge! I&rsquo;ll be more than happy to take orders

-from you. After all, somebody on board has to be

-in charge, and it&rsquo;s a good idea to have it be someone

-who knows what he&rsquo;s in charge of!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Fine,&rdquo; Jerry said, looking relieved. &ldquo;If you

-just keep up that kind of attitude, you&rsquo;ll be the

-best kind of a crew member that any skipper could

-ask for!&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_25">25</div>

-<p>Sandy&rsquo;s Uncle Russ had been waiting by his car

-while the boys had been talking and taking in the

-sights, sounds and smells of the Cliffport Boat

-Yard. Now he moved over to join them. &ldquo;The

-trunk of the car is open,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and your sea

-bags are in there. And that&rsquo;s as much as I intend

-to do about it. I don&rsquo;t know much about sailors,

-but if they&rsquo;re anything at all like soldiers, they

-carry their own packs! Now let&rsquo;s get going!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>The boys grinned sheepishly and ran to the

-back of the car to gather their equipment, and

-Russell Steele relaxed and dropped his mock military

-manner. An ex-general of the United States

-Army, he often kidded Sandy and his friends by

-pretending that they were soldiers in his command.

-This time, he reflected, it was very nearly

-true. In the same way that a general must feel a

-responsibility toward the men he sends out on a

-mission, Russell Steele felt responsible for Sandy

-and Jerry as they were preparing to set out on this

-trip.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_26">26</div>

-<p>After all, he reminded himself, the trip had

-been his idea, and the sailboat had been his present

-to Sandy. He had been using the boat during

-the last few months while doing some research on

-special underwater equipment for the government,

-and now he no longer had any need for it. As Vice

-President of World Dynamics Corporation, Russell

-Steele was in charge of the New Projects Division.

-World Dynamics was a sprawling concern

-with almost unlimited interests, often in the most

-secret kinds of affairs, and his work with it often

-called him to different parts of the world. He had

-found his stay in Cliffport a pleasant change from

-some of the remote and often primitive places he

-had been forced to settle in in the past. Now, however,

-he was off again, to one more secret destination.

-He wouldn&rsquo;t be in a position to use a sailboat

-again for a long time to come.</p>

-<p>Sandy&rsquo;s Uncle Russ had been brought up on the

-seacoast of California. While his brother, Sandy&rsquo;s

-father, had become fascinated with the rocks and

-geological formations of the nearby mountains and

-deserts, he had gone in the other direction to the

-shores of the Pacific. During nearly all of his boyhood

-he had puttered around boats and boat

-yards.</p>

-<p>Although Russell Steele had spent most of his

-adult life in the Army (and maybe because of it)

-he had always had a soft spot in his heart for the

-sport of sailing. He had regretted that Sandy, his

-only nephew, lived inland in Valley View where

-he was unable to share in this enthusiasm. But

-Valley View was only a couple of hours from the

-seacoast and now that Sandy was old enough to

-drive a car, it would be possible for him to own

-and enjoy a sailboat.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_27">27</div>

-<p>Uncle Russ thought of all this, and then he

-wondered whether it had been a good idea to

-suggest that the boys bring the sloop all the way

-down from Cliffport on their very first sail. Still,

-he mused, Jerry seemed like a responsible lad, and

-he had said that he knew how to handle a boat well

-enough to make such a trip. And Sandy learned

-fast and was good with his hands. Well, the General

-thought to himself, we&rsquo;ll just have to give

-them their heads and let them try it to see how

-they make out....</p>

-<p>At that moment in his reflections, the boys

-joined him with their luggage, and all three started

-through the boat yard to the waterfront. As they

-picked their way through the clutter of boats,

-scrap lumber, railroad tracks and equipment, they

-passed close by the side of a boat standing on the

-ways about to be launched. Sandy ran his hand

-over the gleaming paintwork of the hull, and

-found that it was as smooth as glass. Jerry explained

-that great care was given to getting a

-smooth paint job, because the greatest force working

-against a boat to slow it down is the friction

-created by the water passing over the hull. Good

-racing boats, he told Sandy, are hauled out of the

-water to be cleaned and painted several times in a season.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_28">28</div>

-<p>Their walk had by now led them down to the

-water&rsquo;s edge, where they walked along a weathered

-wharf. A light, early-morning haze made the colors

-of the sailboats that floated in the bay seem soft

-and pale. The water and the sky appeared to be

-one single surface, with no break or horizon line

-to indicate where one stopped and the other

-began. The boat-yard flag on its mast atop the

-main shed fluttered lazily in a mild breeze, and

-a gentle ground swell made soft, lapping sounds

-under the wharf.</p>

-<p>Strolling along, they came to a long, steeply

-sloping gangway that descended to a floating dock,

-to which were tied several small sailboats that

-rocked quietly on the smooth swell of Cliffport

-Bay.</p>

-<p>Russell Steele took his pipe out of his mouth

-and pointed with it. &ldquo;See there?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;The

-third sloop&mdash;the one with the white hull and the

-green decks and the varnished mast&mdash;that&rsquo;s your

-new sailboat, Sandy, and I hope you enjoy it as

-much as I have.&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_29">29</div>

-<p>Before he had finished his sentence, Sandy and

-Jerry were down the steep gangway, racing along

-the floating dock to where the trim, white sloop

-was tied. Russ Steele smiled, replaced his pipe in

-his mouth, and followed at a pace almost as fast as

-the boys&rsquo;.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a beauty!&rdquo; Sandy panted, pushing his hair

-back from his eyes. &ldquo;What slick lines! And look

-at how roomy the cabin is! And look at the height

-of the mast! And all that rigging!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>His grin faded, and a look of bewilderment

-spread across his face. &ldquo;Boy, I can sure say that

-again! Just look at all that rigging! How am I

-supposed to know what to do with what and when

-to do it, Jerry?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Jerry laughed, and jumped lightly into the

-small cockpit. &ldquo;Come on board, skipper, and we&rsquo;ll

-start your first sailing lesson by showing you

-around and telling you the names of things. It&rsquo;s

-not half as complicated as it looks. In fact, this

-sloop rig is just about the simplest there is. As soon

-as you learn what to call things, you&rsquo;ll have the

-hardest part of the lesson over with.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Sandy followed Jerry into the cockpit, then

-paused to turn and face his uncle, who was still

-standing on the dock. &ldquo;How about you, Uncle

-Russ?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;Will you stick around for a

-little while and take the first sail with us?&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_30">30</div>

-<p>&ldquo;Thanks for asking, Sandy,&rdquo; Russell Steele

-answered, &ldquo;but much as I&rsquo;d like to come along

-with you, I can&rsquo;t manage it. I have to be back in

-my office this afternoon for an important conference.

-In fact, I&rsquo;ll just about make it if I get

-started now. But before I get under way, and

-before you get carried away with the fine art of

-sailing, there are a few things that you&rsquo;ll need to

-know.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>He talked rapidly and uninterruptedly for

-about five minutes and, when he had finished,

-Sandy appreciated for the first time how thoroughly

-well-organized his Uncle Russ was. His

-preparations for the boys&rsquo; trip had been complete

-in every last detail. Russell Steele&rsquo;s practiced military

-mind had reviewed the situation and had

-missed nothing that might be needed.</p>

-<p>The sailboat had been fully provisioned for

-more than a week of sailing, and had been

-equipped for every possible emergency as well as

-for a routine and pleasant cruise. The small cabin

-contained an alcohol cookstove and a good supply

-of canned food. Every locker and storage place was

-full, and everything put on board had been chosen

-with care and an eye for both comfort and necessity.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_31">31</div>

-<p>A complete tool chest was stowed in its cubby

-with several boxes of spare hardware, ship fittings,

-nuts and bolts, wire and odd tackle. A drawer

-under one of the bunks contained a whole assortment

-of fishing equipment. Another carried an

-odd mixture of things that the boys might want,

-even including clothespins for drying garments,

-and a sewing kit. A specially made bag contained

-another sewing kit, this one for sails and canvas

-repair.</p>

-<p>In a narrow, hanging locker in the forward part

-of the cabin were two complete foul-weather suits

-consisting of waterproof pants and jackets with

-hoods. Below them were two pairs of sea boots.</p>

-<p>Opposite this was the small enclosed &ldquo;head,&rdquo;

-sailor&rsquo;s word for bathroom. No bigger than a

-telephone booth, it still managed to contain a

-toilet and a sink, plus a cabinet for medicines and

-first-aid supplies and another for towels, soap,

-toothbrushes and the like.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;The only things that you won&rsquo;t find on board

-yet,&rdquo; Russell Steele concluded, &ldquo;are your sleeping

-bags and your air mattresses. I&rsquo;ve ordered

-special ones that the local store didn&rsquo;t have in

-stock, and they&rsquo;re not due to arrive until tomorrow.

-For tonight, you&rsquo;ll have to plan on sleeping

-ashore, but I&rsquo;ve taken care of that for you,

-too. I&rsquo;ve got a room reserved for you at the Cliffport

-Hotel. After tomorrow, you can sleep on

-board, like sailors.&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_32">32</div>

-<p>He scowled at his pipe for several seconds, as if

-he hoped to see in it some hint of anything that

-he might have forgotten to take care of, and he

-mentally checked each item again. Sails okay?

-Charts and navigating instruments in place? Food?

-Tools? Spare lines? Life jackets? Oars for the

-dinghy? Cleaning equipment? Sea anchor? Everything

-checked out. At last, satisfied that all was in

-good order, he smiled and clamped the pipe in

-his teeth again.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I think,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;the only thing I&rsquo;ve forgotten

-is the seagoing way to say goodbye!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>He settled for &ldquo;Ahoy!&rdquo; and &ldquo;Smooth sailing!&rdquo;

-and, brushing off Sandy&rsquo;s thanks, walked briskly

-up the gangway without turning back.</p>

-<p>The boys watched him as he turned the corner

-of the main shed and walked out of sight, then

-they gave all their attention to a close survey of

-their new floating home.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_33">33</div>

-<h2 id="c3"><span class="small">CHAPTER THREE</span>

-<br />Shakedown Cruise</h2>

-<p>&ldquo;Well, Jerry, what do you think of it?&rdquo; Sandy

-asked his friend, as he cast a proud eye along

-the sleekly shaped length of the little sloop.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Not &lsquo;it,&rsquo;&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;You should say &lsquo;her.&rsquo;

-You always call boats &lsquo;she&rsquo; or &lsquo;her,&rsquo; though I&rsquo;ve

-never met a sailor who could tell you why.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Jerry looked critically down the twenty-four-foot

-length of the sloop. &ldquo;She looks really seaworthy,&rdquo;

-he said, &ldquo;and she looks pretty fast, too.

-Of course, this is not a racing boat, you know.

-They use this kind mostly for day sailing and for

-short cruises. Even so, she looks as if she&rsquo;ll go. Of

-course, we can&rsquo;t really tell until we&rsquo;ve tried her,

-and I don&rsquo;t think we&rsquo;ll be ready to try anything

-fast for a little while yet.&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_34">34</div>

-<p>Noticing the flicker of disappointment that

-crossed Sandy&rsquo;s face, Jerry added, &ldquo;I&rsquo;d rather have

-a boat like this than any racing machine ever

-built. And I&rsquo;m not saying that just to make you

-feel better about not having a racer. There&rsquo;s not

-much difference in actual speed between a really

-fast boat and an ordinary good boat of the same

-size. But there sure is a lot of difference in comfort.

-And I like my comfort when I go for a cruise.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Why should a racing boat be uncomfortable?&rdquo;

-Sandy asked.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s not uncomfortable for racing, or for day

-sailing,&rdquo; Jerry answered, &ldquo;but a racing boat of this

-size wouldn&rsquo;t be fitted out for cruising at all. You

-see, to get the most speed out of a boat, designers

-make sure that the hull is kept as light as possible

-and as streamlined as possible, too. A light hull

-will ride with less of its surface in the water, and

-that cuts down on the amount of friction. You

-remember what I told you about friction before?&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_35">35</div>

-<p>Sandy nodded, and Jerry went on. &ldquo;Streamlining

-the hull shape helps it to cut through the

-water without making a lot of waves at the bow

-to hold it back. Not only that, but to make the

-boat really as fast as possible, most designers want

-to streamline the decks, too. That way, even the

-air resistance is lowered. Well, when you streamline

-the hull, you make less cabin space below.

-Then when you streamline the decks, you have to

-lower the cabin roof so that it&rsquo;s level with the

-decks. You can see that in a small boat like this,

-you wind up with no cabin at all.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I see,&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;But how does the lightness

-of the hull affect comfort? I&rsquo;m not so sure I understand

-that.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;When you have a light hull,&rdquo; Jerry replied,

-&ldquo;it&rsquo;s a good idea to keep it light. If you overload it,

-you lose the advantage you built into it in the first

-place. That means that you can&rsquo;t carry all the stuff

-we have on board to make for comfortable, safe

-cruising. Our bunks, the galley, the head, the

-spare anchor, all the tools and supplies&mdash;it adds

-up to a lot of weight. If you want a really fast boat,

-you have to leave all that stuff behind.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Then if this were a racing boat,&rdquo; Sandy said,

-&ldquo;we wouldn&rsquo;t have anything more than a small

-cockpit and a lot of deck, with a little storage

-space! No wonder you said you&rsquo;d rather have a

-boat like this! But there&rsquo;s one thing I&rsquo;d still like

-to know. You said that there wasn&rsquo;t much difference

-in real speed between a racing boat and

-an ordinary good boat. How much is &lsquo;not much&rsquo;?&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_36">36</div>

-<p>Jerry thought for a minute. &ldquo;Well&mdash;&rdquo; he said,

-at length&mdash;&ldquo;I&rsquo;d have to know a lot more about

-boat design than I know to give you an accurate

-answer, but I can give you a rough idea. This is

-a twenty-four-foot boat. If it were a racing hull,

-you might get eight and a half or maybe even

-nine knots out of it under ideal conditions. For

-practical purposes, you can figure eight or less. A

-knot, by the way, is a nautical mile, and it&rsquo;s a little

-more than a regular mile. When you say eight

-knots, you mean eight nautical miles an hour.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;But that&rsquo;s not fast!&rdquo; Sandy objected. &ldquo;You said

-that&rsquo;s what a fast racing boat would do!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Jerry smiled. &ldquo;Believe me, Sandy,&rdquo; he said,

-&ldquo;when your boat is heeling way over and your

-decks are awash and your sails are straining full

-of wind, it seems like an awful lot of speed! You&rsquo;ll

-see when we get out today. Besides, speed is all

-relative. A really dangerous speed on a bike would

-seem like a slow crawl in a car.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I guess you&rsquo;re right,&rdquo; Sandy answered. &ldquo;But

-you didn&rsquo;t tell me how fast this boat will go, compared

-to a racer.&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_37">37</div>

-<p>&ldquo;I think we&rsquo;ll get five or six knots out of her,&rdquo;

-Jerry replied thoughtfully. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s not fast, but

-it&rsquo;s only a couple of knots slower than the fastest.

-You see now what I mean?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Sandy nodded, then said, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m with you, Jerry.

-Now that I know a little bit about it, I sure think

-you&rsquo;re right. I&rsquo;d much rather have a boat we can

-sleep on and take on trips up and down the coast

-than a racer that doesn&rsquo;t even go so fast! Besides,

-I&rsquo;d be pretty foolish to think about any other

-kind of boat at all, wouldn&rsquo;t I? I don&rsquo;t even have

-the least idea of how to sail this one yet! Come on,

-Jerry, start showing me!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>As Jerry carefully explained the different parts

-of the rigging, the complicated-looking series of

-wires and ropes around the mast began to look a

-whole lot simpler to Sandy. The first thing he

-learned was that not much of the rigging moved

-or was used for actual sailing of the boat. The

-parts that didn&rsquo;t move were called &ldquo;standing

-rigging,&rdquo; and if you eliminated them from your

-thoughts, it made the &ldquo;running rigging&rdquo; comparatively

-easy to understand.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_38">38</div>

-<p>&ldquo;You have to learn about the rigging first,&rdquo;

-Jerry said. &ldquo;The idea is simple enough. The

-standing rigging is used to support the mast and

-keep it from bending to either side or to the front

-or back when the sails start to put pressure on it.

-The standing rigging is every line or cable you see

-that comes from the top of the mast or near it

-down to the outer edge of the deck or to the bow

-or stern.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Sandy looked about the little sloop, and noticed

-that this seemed to take care of more than half of

-what he saw.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;The running rigging,&rdquo; Jerry went on, &ldquo;is used

-to raise and lower the sails and to control their

-position to catch the wind when you&rsquo;re sailing.

-The lines that are used to raise and lower the

-sails on the mast are called halyards. They work

-just like the ropes on a flagpole. The other kind

-of running rigging&mdash;the lines used to control the

-way the sails set&mdash;are called sheets. You&rsquo;d think

-that a sheet was a sail, wouldn&rsquo;t you? It isn&rsquo;t,

-though. It&rsquo;s the line that controls a sail.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I think I understand so far,&rdquo; Sandy said, &ldquo;but

-don&rsquo;t you think it would be easier for me to learn

-if we went out for a sail and I could see everything

-working?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Right,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s just what I was

-going to say next. Telling you this way makes me

-feel too much like a schoolteacher!&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_39">39</div>

-<p>Jerry decided that it would not be a good idea

-to try to sail away from the dock, because the

-part of the harbor they were in was so crowded.

-There would be little room to maneuver with

-only the light morning winds to help them. The

-best thing to do, he concluded, was to move the

-boat to a less crowded part of the harbor. At the

-same time, he would teach Sandy the way to get

-away from a mooring. In order to do all this,

-Jerry explained, they would row out in the dinghy,

-towing the sloop behind them. Once out in open

-water, they would tie the dinghy behind them and

-pull it along as they sailed.</p>

-<p>Together they unlashed the dinghy, which was

-resting on chocks on the cabin roof. Light and

-easy to handle, the dinghy was no trouble at all to

-launch, and in a minute it was floating alongside,

-looking like a cross between a canoe and a light-weight

-bathtub.</p>

-<p>Getting into the dinghy carefully, so as not to

-upset its delicate balance, they untied the sloop

-from the dock. Then they fastened the bow line of

-the sloop to a ring on the stern of the dinghy, got

-out the stubby oars and started to row.</p>

-<p>At first, it took some strong pulling at the oars

-to start the sailboat moving away from the dock,

-and Sandy feared that they would tip over the frail

-cockleshell of the dinghy. But once the sloop

-started to move, Sandy found that it took surprisingly

-little effort to tow it along. It glided easily

-behind them, its tall mast swaying overhead, as

-they rowed slowly out into the waters of Cliffport Bay.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_40">40</div>

-<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll find an empty mooring, and tie up for

-a few minutes,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think that

-anyone will mind. I want to show you the method

-we&rsquo;ll use most of the time for getting under way.&rdquo;

-He pointed to the anchorage area, or &ldquo;holding

-ground,&rdquo; as it was called, and Sandy noticed

-several blocks of painted wood floating about.

-They had numbers, and some had small flags on

-them. &ldquo;Those are moorings,&rdquo; Jerry explained.

-&ldquo;They&rsquo;re just permanent anchors, with floats to

-mark the spot and to hold up the end of the mooring

-line. Every boat owner has his own mooring to

-come in to. The people who own these empty

-moorings are probably out sailing for the day, and

-we won&rsquo;t interfere if we use one for a while.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Easing back on the oars, they let the sloop lose

-momentum and came to a natural stop near one

-of the moorings. They transferred the bow line

-from the dinghy to the mooring and made the

-sloop fast in its temporary berth. Then they

-climbed back on board and tied the dinghy behind

-them. Jerry explained that a long enough scope

-of line should be left for the dinghy so as to keep it

-from riding up and overtaking the sloop, as accidents

-of this sort have been known to damage

-the bow of a fragile dinghy.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_41">41</div>

-<p>This done, Jerry busied himself by unlashing

-the boom and the rudder to get them ready to use,

-while Sandy went below for the sail bags. These

-were neatly stacked in a forward locker, each one

-marked with the name of the type of sail it

-contained. He selected the ones marked &ldquo;main&rdquo;

-and &ldquo;jib,&rdquo; as Jerry had asked him to, and brought

-them out into the cockpit.</p>

-<p>Making the mainsail ready to hoist, Sandy

-quickly got the knack of threading the sail slides

-onto the tracks on the mast and the boom. He

-worked at this while Jerry made the necessary adjustments

-to the halyards and fastened them to the

-heads of the sails. When this job was done, Sandy

-slid the foot of the sail aft along the boom, and

-Jerry made it fast with a block-and-tackle arrangement

-which was called the &ldquo;clew outhaul.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; Jerry said, when they had finished, &ldquo;it&rsquo;s

-time to hoist the mainsail!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;What about the mooring?&rdquo; Sandy asked.

-&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you want me to untie the boat from it

-first?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Not yet,&rdquo; Jerry answered. &ldquo;We won&rsquo;t do that

-until we&rsquo;re ready to go.&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_42">42</div>

-<p>&ldquo;But won&rsquo;t we start going as soon as we pull up

-the mainsail?&rdquo; said Sandy, puzzled.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;Nothing will happen when

-we hoist the sail. It&rsquo;s like raising a flag. The flag

-doesn&rsquo;t fill with wind and pull at the flagpole

-like a sail, does it? It just points into the wind and

-flutters. That&rsquo;s just what the mainsail will do.

-You see, the boat is already pointing into the

-wind, because the wind has swung us around on

-the mooring. You look around and you&rsquo;ll see that

-all the boats out here are heading in the exact

-same direction, toward the wind. When we hoist

-the sail, it&rsquo;ll act just like a flag, and flap around

-until we&rsquo;re ready to use it. Then we&rsquo;ll make it do

-what we want it to by using the jib and controlling

-its position with the sheets. Look.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Jerry hauled on the main halyard, and the sail

-slid up its tracks on the mast, squeaking and

-grating. As it reached the masthead, it fluttered

-and bellied loosely in the wind, doing nothing to

-make the boat move in any direction. Motioning

-to Sandy to take his place tugging at the halyard,

-Jerry jumped down into the cockpit.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_43">43</div>

-<p>The halyard ran from the pointed head of the

-sail up through a pulley at the top of the mast,

-then down to where Sandy was hauling on it.

-Below his hands, it passed through another pulley

-near Sandy&rsquo;s feet, then back along the cabin roof.

-Jerry, from his position in the cockpit, grabbed

-the end of the halyard and hauled tight, taking the

-strain from Sandy. Then he tied it down to a wing-shaped

-cleat on the cabin roof near the cockpit.</p>

-<p>This was done with a few expert flips of the

-wrist. The mainsail was up, and tightly secured.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;There,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;Now we&rsquo;re almost ready.

-We won&rsquo;t move at all until we get the jib up, and

-even then we won&rsquo;t move unless we want to.

-When we want to, we&rsquo;ll untie from the mooring

-and get away as neat as you please.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>They then took the jib out of its sail bag and

-made ready to hoist it. Instead of securing to the

-mast with slides on a track the way the mainsail

-had, the jib had a series of snaps stitched to its forward

-edge. These were snapped around the steel

-wire forestay, a part of the standing rigging that

-ran from the bow of the boat to a position high

-up on the mast. The jib halyard was fastened to

-the head of the jib, the snaps were put in place,

-and a few seconds of work saw the jib hanging in

-place, flapping before the mast. Then Jerry asked

-Sandy to pick up the mooring that they had tied

-to, and to walk aft with it.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_44">44</div>

-<p>&ldquo;When you walk aft with the mooring,&rdquo; Jerry

-explained, &ldquo;you actually put some forward motion

-on the boat. Then, when you get aft and I tell you

-to throw the mooring over, you put the bow a

-little off the wind by doing it.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Sandy untied the bow line from the mooring,

-and walked to the stern of the boat, holding the

-mooring float as he had been told. Then, when

-Jerry said &ldquo;Now!&rdquo; he threw the mooring over

-with a splash.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;With the jib flying and the boat free from the

-mooring and no longer pointing directly into the

-wind,&rdquo; Jerry said, &ldquo;the wind will catch the jib

-and blow our bow even further off. At the same

-time, I&rsquo;ll steer to the side instead of straight ahead.

-As soon as our bow is pointing enough away from

-the wind, the breeze will strike our sails from one

-side, and they&rsquo;ll start to fill. When the sails have

-caught the wind right, I&rsquo;ll ease off on the rudder,

-and we&rsquo;ll be moving ahead.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>By this time, the morning haze had &ldquo;burned

-off&rdquo; and the light breeze had freshened into a

-crisp, steady wind. As the head of the little sloop

-&ldquo;fell away&rdquo; from the direction from which the

-wind was coming, the sails swelled, the boat

-leaned slightly to one side, and a ripple of waves

-splashed alongside the hull. Sandy looked back

-and saw that the bow of the dinghy, trailing behind

-them, was beginning to cut a small white

-wave through the water.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_45">45</div>

-<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;re under way!&rdquo; Jerry cried. &ldquo;Come on over

-here, skipper! You take the tiller and learn how

-to steer your boat while I handle the sails and

-show you what to do!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Sandy slid over on the stern seat to take Jerry&rsquo;s

-place, and held the tiller in the position he had

-been shown, while Jerry explained how to trim

-the sails and how to go where you wanted to go

-instead of where the wind wanted to take you.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll take care of the sail trimming,&rdquo; Jerry said.

-&ldquo;All you have to do is keep the boat heading on

-the course she&rsquo;s sailing now. The wind is pretty

-much at our backs and off to the starboard side.

-You have to keep it that way, and especially keep

-the stern from swinging around to face the wind

-directly. It&rsquo;s not hard to do. Just pick a landmark

-and steer toward it.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>He looked ahead to where a point of land jutted

-out some miles off the mainland. A lighthouse

-tower made an exclamation mark against the sky.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Just steer a little to the right of that,&rdquo; he said,

-&ldquo;and we can&rsquo;t go wrong.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;What if the wind shifts?&rdquo; Sandy asked. &ldquo;How

-can we tell?&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_46">46</div>

-<p>Jerry pointed to the masthead, where a small

-triangular metal flag swung. &ldquo;Just keep an eye on

-that,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s called a hawk, and it&rsquo;s a sailor&rsquo;s

-weathervane.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;With one eye on the lighthouse and one eye on

-the masthead,&rdquo; Sandy laughed, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to look

-awfully silly!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>He leaned back in the stern seat with the tiller

-tucked under his arm. The little sloop headed

-steadily for the lighthouse, steering easily. Every

-few seconds, Sandy glanced at the hawk to check

-the wind. He grinned and relaxed. He was steering

-his own boat! The sail towered tall and white

-against the blue sky above him and the water

-gurgled alongside and in the wake behind where

-the dinghy bobbed along like a faithful puppy.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;This is the life!&rdquo; he sighed.</p>

-<p>Jerry pointed out a handsome, white-hulled,

-two-masted boat approaching them. &ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t that a

-beauty?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a ketch. On a ketch, the

-mainmast is taller than the mizzen. That&rsquo;s how

-you tell the difference.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;How do you tell the difference between the

-mainmast and the mizzen?&rdquo; Sandy asked. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re

-going to have to start with the simplest stuff with

-me.&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_47">47</div>

-<p>&ldquo;The mainmast is always the one in front, and

-the mizzen is always the one aft,&rdquo; Jerry explained.

-&ldquo;A ketch has a taller main; a schooner has a taller

-mizzen; a yawl is the same as a ketch, except that

-the mizzen is set aft of the tiller. Got it?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Sandy shook his head and wondered if he would

-ever get all of this straight in his head. It was

-enough trying to learn the names of things on his

-own boat without worrying about the names of

-everything on other boats in the bay.</p>

-<p>As the ketch sailed by, the man at her tiller

-waved a friendly greeting. The boys waved back

-and Sandy watched the big ketch go smoothly

-past, wondering how much harder it might be to

-sail a two-masted boat of that size than it was to

-sail a relatively small sloop such as his own.

-Certainly it could not be as simple as the sloop,

-he thought. Why this little sailboat was a whole

-lot easier than it had seemed to be at first. As a

-matter of fact....</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Duck your head!&rdquo; Jerry yelled.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_48">48</div>

-<p>Not even stopping to think, Sandy dropped his

-head just in time to avoid being hit by the boom,

-which whizzed past barely a few inches above him!

-With a sharp crack of ropes and canvas, the sail

-filled with wind on the opposite side of the boat

-from where it had been a moment before, and

-the sloop heeled violently in the same direction.

-Jerry grabbed at the tiller, hauled in rapidly on

-the mainsheet, and set a new course. Then, calming

-down, he explained to Sandy what had

-happened.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;We jibed,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;That means that you let

-the wind get directly behind us and then on the

-wrong side of us. The mainsail got the wind on

-the back of it, and the wind took it around to the

-other side of the boat. Because the sheets were let

-out all the way, there was nothing to restrain the

-sail from moving, and by the time it got over,

-it was going at a pretty fast clip. You saw the results!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Jerry adjusted the mainsail to a better position

-relative to the wind, trimming it carefully to keep

-it from bagging, then he went on to explain. &ldquo;A

-jibe can only happen when you&rsquo;ve got the wind at

-your back. That&rsquo;s called sailing downwind, or

-sailing before the wind, or running free. It&rsquo;s the

-most dangerous point of sail, because of the chance

-of jibing. When the wind is strong, an uncontrolled

-jibe like the one we just took can split

-your sails, or ruin your rigging, or even snap

-your boom or your mast. Not to mention giving

-you a real bad headache if you&rsquo;re in the way of

-that boom!&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_49">49</div>

-<p>&ldquo;I can just imagine,&rdquo; Sandy said, thinking of

-the force with which the boom had whizzed by.

-Then he added, &ldquo;You said something about an

-&lsquo;uncontrolled jibe,&rsquo; I think. Does that mean that

-there&rsquo;s some way to control it?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I should have said an accidental jibe instead of

-an uncontrolled one,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;A deliberate

-or planned jibe is always controlled, and it&rsquo;s a

-perfectly safe and easy maneuver. All you have to

-do is to haul in on the sheet, so that the boom

-won&rsquo;t have any room for free swinging. Then you

-change your course to the new tack, let out the

-sail, and you&rsquo;re off with no trouble.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Sandy grinned. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid that description

-went over my head as fast as the boom did&mdash;only

-a whole lot higher up!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Things always sound complicated when you

-describe them,&rdquo; Jerry said, &ldquo;but we&rsquo;ll do a couple

-later, and you&rsquo;ll see how it works.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Fine,&rdquo; Sandy agreed. &ldquo;But until we do, how

-can I keep from doing any more of the accidental

-variety?&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_50">50</div>

-<p>&ldquo;The only way to avoid jibing,&rdquo; Jerry replied,

-&ldquo;is never to let the wind blow from the same side

-that the sail is set on. This means that if you feel

-the wind shift over that way, you have to alter

-your course quickly to compensate for it. If you

-don&rsquo;t want to alter your course, then you have to

-do a deliberate jibe and alter the direction of the

-sail. All it means is that you have to keep alert at

-the tiller, and keep an eye on the hawk, the way

-I told you, so that you always know which direction

-the wind is blowing from.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I guess I was getting too much confidence a lot

-too soon,&rdquo; Sandy admitted, shamefaced. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s

-obviously a lot more to this sailing business than

-I was beginning to think. Anyway, a jibe is one

-thing I won&rsquo;t let happen again. I&rsquo;ll stop looking at

-other boats for a while, and pay more attention to

-this one! There&rsquo;s more than enough to look at

-here, I guess.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Once more, Sandy cautiously took the tiller

-from Jerry. Then he grinned ruefully and said,

-&ldquo;Just do me one favor, will you, Jerry?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Sure. What?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Just don&rsquo;t call me &lsquo;skipper&rsquo; any more. Not for

-a while, at least!&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_51">51</div>

-<h2 id="c4"><span class="small">CHAPTER FOUR</span>

-<br />The Man with the Gun</h2>

-<p>&ldquo;Just keep her sailing on this downwind course,&rdquo;

-Jerry said. &ldquo;Head for that lighthouse the way you

-were before, and keep an occasional eye on the

-hawk. As long as the wind isn&rsquo;t dead astern, we

-shouldn&rsquo;t have any more jibing troubles. As soon

-as we get out into open water, we&rsquo;ll find an easier

-point of sail. We can&rsquo;t do that until we&rsquo;re clear of

-the channel, though. When we are, we&rsquo;ll reach for

-a while, and then I&rsquo;ll show you how to beat.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s reaching?&rdquo; Sandy asked. &ldquo;And what&rsquo;s

-beating? And how do you know when we&rsquo;re out of

-the channel into open water? And how do you

-even know for sure that we&rsquo;re in the channel

-now? And how....&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_52">52</div>

-<p>&ldquo;Whoa! Wait a minute! Let&rsquo;s take one question

-at a time. A reach is when you&rsquo;re sailing with the

-wind coming more from the side than from in front

-or from behind the boat. Beating is when the wind

-is more in front than on the side, and you have to

-sail into it. Beating is more like work than fun,

-but a reach is the fastest and easiest kind of a

-course to sail. That&rsquo;s why I want to reach as soon

-as we&rsquo;re out in open water where we can pick our

-direction without having to worry about channel

-markers.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;How come reaching is the fastest kind of

-course to sail?&rdquo; Sandy asked. &ldquo;I would have

-guessed that sailing downwind with the wind

-pushing the boat ahead of it would be the fastest.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;It sure seems as if it ought to work that way,&rdquo;

-Jerry said with a grin. &ldquo;But you&rsquo;ll find that sailboat

-logic isn&rsquo;t always so simple or easy. When

-you&rsquo;re running free in front of the wind, you

-can only go as fast as the wind is blowing. When

-you&rsquo;re reaching, you can actually sail a lot faster

-than the wind.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid that I don&rsquo;t understand that,&rdquo; Sandy

-said. &ldquo;How does it work?&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_53">53</div>

-<p>Jerry paused and thought for a minute. &ldquo;You

-remember what Quiz said about the sailboat

-working like an airplane? Well, he made it sound

-pretty tough to understand, what with all his

-formulas and proportions, but actually he was

-right. A sail is a lot like an airplane wing, except

-that it&rsquo;s standing up on end instead of sticking out

-to one side. Well, you know that the propellers

-on a plane make wind, and that the plane flies

-straight into that wind. You see, the wind that

-comes across the wing makes a vacuum on top of

-the wing surface, and the plane is drawn up into

-the vacuum. You get a lot more lift that way than

-if the propellers were under the wing and blowing

-straight up on the bottom of it.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I see that,&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;And a propeller blowing

-under a wing would be pretty much the same

-as a wind blowing at the back of a sail. Right?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Right!&rdquo; Jerry said, looking pleased with his

-teaching ability. &ldquo;Now you have the idea. When

-you have a sail, like a wing standing up, the air

-that passes over the sail makes a vacuum in front

-and pulls the boat forward into it. Actually, the

-vacuum pulls us forward and to one side, the same

-as the wind from the propeller makes the plane go

-forward and up. We use the rudder and the keel

-to keep us going more straight than sideways.&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_54">54</div>

-<p>Sandy shook his head as if to clear away cobwebs.

-&ldquo;I think that I understand now, but it&rsquo;s

-still a little hazy in my mind. Maybe I&rsquo;ll do better

-if you don&rsquo;t tell me about the theory, and I just

-see the way it works.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Could be,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;There are lots of old-time

-fishermen and other fine sailors who have

-absolutely no idea of how their boats work, and

-who wouldn&rsquo;t know a law of physics or a principle

-of aerodynamics if it sat on their mastheads and

-yelled at them like a sea gull! They just do what

-comes naturally, and they know the way to handle

-a boat without worrying about what makes it

-run.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Still heading on their downwind course, they

-passed several small islands and rocks, some

-marked with lights and towers, some with bells

-or floating buoys. They seemed to slide by gracefully

-as the little sloop left the mainland farther

-behind in its wake.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Before we get out of the channel,&rdquo; Jerry said,

-&ldquo;I want to show you some of the channel markers

-and tell you about how to read them. They&rsquo;re the

-road signs of the harbors, and if you know what

-they mean and what to do about them, you&rsquo;ll

-never get in any trouble when it comes to finding

-your way in and out of a port.&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_55">55</div>

-<p>He pointed to a nearby marker that was shaped

-like a pointed rocket nose cone floating in the

-water. It was painted a bright red, and on its side

-in white was painted a large number 4.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s called a nun buoy,&rdquo; Jerry told Sandy.

-&ldquo;Now look over there. Do you see that black buoy

-shaped just like an oversized tin can? That&rsquo;s called

-a can buoy. The cans and the nuns mark the

-limits of the channel, and they tell you to steer

-between them. The rule is, when you&rsquo;re leaving

-a harbor, to keep the red nun buoys on your port

-side. That&rsquo;s the left side. When you&rsquo;re entering

-a harbor, keep the red nun buoys on your starboard

-side. The best way to remember it is by the

-three R&rsquo;s of offshore navigating: &lsquo;Red Right Returning.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Sandy nodded. &ldquo;I understand that all right,&rdquo;

-he said. &ldquo;But what are the numbers for?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;The numbers are to tell you how far from the

-harbor you are,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;Red nun buoys are

-always even-numbered, and black cans are always

-odd-numbered. They run in regular sequence,

-and they start from the farthest buoy out from

-the shore. For example, we just sailed past red nun

-buoy number 4. That means that the next can we

-see will be marked number 3, and it will be

-followed by a number 2 nun and a number 1 can.

-After we pass the number 1 can, we&rsquo;ll be completely

-out of the channel, and we&rsquo;ll have open

-water to sail in.&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_56">56</div>

-<p>&ldquo;Do they have the same kind of markers everywhere,&rdquo;

-Sandy asked, &ldquo;or do you have to learn

-them specially for each port that you sail in?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll find the same marks in almost every

-place in the world,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;But you won&rsquo;t

-have to worry about the world for a long while.

-The important thing is that the marking and

-buoyage system is the same exact standard for

-every port in the United States and Canada.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s that striped can I see floating over

-there?&rdquo; Sandy asked, pointing.</p>

-<p>Jerry looked at the buoy. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s a special

-marker,&rdquo; he answered. &ldquo;All of the striped buoys

-have some special meaning, and it&rsquo;s usually

-marked on the charts. They&rsquo;re mostly used to

-mark a junction of two channels, or a middle

-ground, or an obstruction of some kind. You can

-sail to either side of them, but you shouldn&rsquo;t go

-too close. At least that&rsquo;s the rule for the horizontally

-striped ones. The markers with vertical

-stripes show the middle of the channel, and you&rsquo;re

-supposed to pass them as close as you can, on

-either side.&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_57">57</div>

-<p>Another few minutes of sailing brought them

-past the last red buoy, and they were clear of the

-marked channel. From here on they were free to

-sail as they wanted, in any direction they chose to

-try.</p>

-<p>For the next hour they practiced reaching.

-With the wind blowing steadily from the starboard

-side, the trim sloop leaned far to the port

-until the waves were creaming almost up to the

-level of the deck. Jerry explained that this leaning

-position, called &ldquo;heeling,&rdquo; was the natural and

-proper way for a sailboat to sit in the water. The

-only way that a boat could sail level, he pointed

-out, was before the wind. With the boat heeling

-sharply and the sails and the rigging pulled tight

-in the brisk breeze, Sandy really began to feel the

-sense of speed on the water, and understood what

-Jerry had told him about speed being relative.</p>

-<p>After they had practiced on a few long reaches,

-Jerry showed Sandy how to beat or point, which

-is the art of sailing more or less straight into the

-wind.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Of course you can&rsquo;t ever sail straight into the

-wind,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;The best you can do is come

-close. If you head right into it, the sails will just

-flap around the way that they did when we were

-pointing into the wind at the mooring. You&rsquo;ve got

-to sail a little to one side.&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_58">58</div>

-<p>&ldquo;Suppose you don&rsquo;t want to go to one side?&rdquo;

-Sandy asked. &ldquo;If the wind is blowing straight from

-the place you want to get to, what do you do

-about it?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;You have to compromise,&rdquo; Jerry replied.

-&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll never get there by aiming the boat in that

-direction. What you have to do is sail for a point

-to one side of it for a while, then come about and

-sail for a point on the other side of it for a while.

-It&rsquo;s a kind of long zigzag course. You call it tacking.

-Each leg of the zigzag is called a tack.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Sailing into the wind, they tacked first on one

-side, then on the other. Each time they came

-about onto a new tack, the mainsail was shifted to

-the other side of the boat, and the boat heeled in

-the same direction as the sail. The jib came

-about by itself, just by loosening one sheet and

-taking up on the other one. Soon Sandy was used

-to the continual shifting and resetting of the sails,

-and to the boom passing back and forth overhead.</p>

-<p>Suddenly Sandy pointed and clapped Jerry on

-the shoulder with excitement. &ldquo;Look!&rdquo; he cried.

-&ldquo;There&rsquo;s a whole fleet of boats coming this way!

-They look just like ours! And they&rsquo;re racing!&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_59">59</div>

-<p>Jerry looked up in surprise. &ldquo;They sure are

-racing! And they are just like this one! I guess I

-was wrong when I said they didn&rsquo;t race this kind

-of boat. This must be a local class, built to specifications

-for local race rules. Boy, look at them go!

-I was wrong about not racing them, but I sure was

-right when I said that she looked fast!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>The fleet of sloops swept past, heeling sharply

-to one side, with the crews perched on the high

-sides as live ballast, and the water foaming white

-along the low decks which were washed over completely

-every moment or so. The helmsmen on the

-nearest of the boats grinned at them and waved

-an invitation to come along and join the regatta,

-but neither Jerry nor Sandy felt quite up to sailing

-a race just yet.</p>

-<p>As they watched their white-sailed sisters fly

-down the bay, Sandy felt for the first time the excitement

-that could come from handling a boat

-really well. He turned to his own trim craft with

-renewed determination to learn everything that

-Jerry could teach him, and maybe, in due time,

-a whole lot more than that.</p>

-<p>The next few hours were spent in happily exploring

-Cliffport Bay and trying the sloop on a

-variety of tacks and courses to learn what she

-would do. Eventually, the sun standing high above

-the mast, they realized almost at the same time

-that it was definitely time for lunch.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_60">60</div>

-<p>Jerry took the helm and the sheet while Sandy

-went below to see what the boat&rsquo;s food locker

-could supply. In a few minutes, he poked his head

-out of the cabin hatch and shook it sadly at Jerry.

-&ldquo;It looks as if Uncle Russ didn&rsquo;t think of everything,

-after all. There&rsquo;s plenty of food all right,

-but there&rsquo;s not a thing on board to drink. The

-water jugs are here, but they&rsquo;re bone-dry, and I&rsquo;m

-not exactly up to eating peanut butter sandwiches

-without something to wash them down!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Me either!&rdquo; said Jerry, shuddering a little at

-the thought. &ldquo;Of course, we could settle on some

-of the juice from the canned fruits I saw in there,

-but we haven&rsquo;t taken on any ice for our ice chest,

-and that&rsquo;s all going to be pretty warm. In any

-case, we ought to have some water on board. I

-think we&rsquo;d better look for a likely place near

-shore where we can drop anchor. Then we can

-take the dinghy in to one of the beach houses and

-fill up our jugs.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Good idea,&rdquo; Sandy agreed. &ldquo;And that way we

-can eat while we&rsquo;re at anchor, and not have to

-worry about sailing and eating at the same time.&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_61">61</div>

-<p>Several small islands not too far away had

-houses on them, and the boys decided to set a

-course for the nearest one. As they drew near,

-they saw a sunny white house sitting on the crest

-of a small rise about a hundred yards back from

-the water. Below the house, a well-protected and

-pleasant-looking cove offered a good place for an

-anchorage. A floating dock was secured to a high

-stone pier, from which a path could be seen leading

-up to the house. It looked like an almost perfect

-summer place, set in broad green lawns, with

-several old shade trees near the house and with a

-general atmosphere of well-being radiating from

-everything.</p>

-<p>They glided straight into the little cove, then

-suddenly put the rudder over hard and brought

-the sloop sharply up into the wind. The sails

-flapped loosely, and the boat lost some of its headway,

-then glided slowly to a stop.</p>

-<p>On the bow, Sandy stood ready with the anchor,

-waiting for Jerry to tell him when to lower it. As

-the boat began to move a little astern, backing in

-the headwind, Jerry told Sandy to let the anchor

-down slowly.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;You never drop an anchor, or throw it over the

-side. After all, you want the anchor to tip over,

-and to drive a hook into the bottom. It won&rsquo;t do

-that if it&rsquo;s just dropped.&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_62">62</div>

-<p>When Sandy felt the anchor touch the bottom,

-he pulled back gently on the anchor line until he

-felt the hook take hold. Then, leading the line

-through the fair lead at the bow, he tied it securely

-to a cleat on the deck.</p>

-<p>Loosening the halyards, they dropped first the

-jib and then the mainsail, rolled them neatly, and

-secured them with strips of sailcloth, called stops.

-Jerry pointed out that it was not necessary to

-remove the slides and snaps. That way, he explained,

-it would only be a matter of minutes to

-get under way when they wanted to. With the last

-stop tied and the boom and the rudder lashed to

-keep them from swinging, the sloop was all shipshape

-at anchor, rocking gently on the swell about

-fifty yards from the end of the floating dock.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s row the dinghy in to the dock and see if

-we can find somebody on shore,&rdquo; Jerry suggested.

-&ldquo;Of course, with no boats in here, there might not

-be anyone on the island right now, but I think

-that I saw a well up by the house, and I&rsquo;m sure

-that no one would mind if we helped ourselves to

-a little water.&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_63">63</div>

-<p>But Jerry was wrong on both counts. There

-was somebody on the island, and he looked far

-from hospitable. In fact, the tall man who came

-striding down the path to the float where the

-boys already had the dinghy headed was carrying a

-rifle&mdash;and, what was more, he looked perfectly

-ready to use it at any minute!</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Turn back!&rdquo; he shouted, as he reached the

-edge of the stone pier. &ldquo;Turn back, I tell you,

-or I&rsquo;ll shoot that dinghy full of holes and sink it

-right out from under you!&rdquo; He raised the rifle

-deliberately to his shoulder and sighted down its

-length at the boys.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Wait a minute!&rdquo; Sandy shouted back. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re

-making a mistake! We just need to get some water

-to drink! We don&rsquo;t mean any harm!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>The man lowered his rifle, but looked no

-friendlier than before. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t care what you

-want,&rdquo; he called, &ldquo;but you can just sail off and get

-it some other place! This is my island and my

-cove. They&rsquo;re both private property, and you&rsquo;re

-trespassing here! Now turn that dinghy around

-and get back to your sailboat and go!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>This speech finished, he raised his rifle to the

-firing position once more and aimed it at the

-dinghy.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_64">64</div>

-<p>&ldquo;All right, mister!&rdquo; Jerry yelled back at him.

-&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll get going! But when we get back to the

-mainland, you can bet that we&rsquo;re going to report

-you to the Coast Guard for your failure to give

-assistance! I&rsquo;m not sure what they can do about it,

-but they sure ought to know that there&rsquo;s a character

-like you around here! Maybe they&rsquo;ll mark it

-on the charts, so that sailors in trouble won&rsquo;t waste

-their time coming in here for help!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>As the boys started to turn the dinghy about,

-they heard a shout from the man on the pier.

-&ldquo;Wait a minute!&rdquo; he called. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s no need to

-get so upset. I&rsquo;m sorry&mdash;but I guess I made a mistake

-after all. Row on in to the float and I&rsquo;ll get

-you some water.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Not at all sure that they were doing the wisest

-thing, but not wanting to anger the strange rifleman

-by not doing what he had suggested, they

-decided to risk coming to shore. After all, Sandy

-reasoned, he hadn&rsquo;t actually threatened to shoot

-<i>them</i>&mdash;just the dinghy&mdash;and he couldn&rsquo;t do much

-more harm from close up than from where they

-were. Besides, both boys were curious about the

-man and his island. They rowed to the floating

-dock and made the dinghy fast to a cleat.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_65">65</div>

-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry, boys,&rdquo; the man with the rifle said

-pleasantly. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s just that I&rsquo;ve been bothered in

-the past by kids landing here for picnics and

-swimming parties when I&rsquo;m not here. They leave

-the beach a mess, and one gang actually broke

-into the house once, and stole some things. That&rsquo;s

-why I don&rsquo;t like kids coming around. I thought

-you were more of the same, but I figured you were

-all right when you said that you&rsquo;d report to the

-Coast Guard. Those other kids stay as far away

-from the Coast Guard and the Harbor Police as

-they can.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>He smiled apologetically, but as Sandy started

-to climb up from the dinghy to the floating dock,

-his expression hardened once more.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I said that I&rsquo;d get you some water,&rdquo; he said,

-&ldquo;but I didn&rsquo;t invite you to come ashore and help

-yourselves to it. You just stay right where you are

-in that dinghy, and hand me up your water jars.

-I&rsquo;ll fill them up for you, and I&rsquo;ll be back in a few

-minutes.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>More than a little puzzled, Jerry and Sandy

-handed up their two soft plastic gallon jugs. Their

-&ldquo;host&rdquo; took them under one arm, leaving the

-other hand free for his rifle which he carried with

-a finger lying alongside of the trigger. Without a

-word, the island&rsquo;s owner walked off.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I wonder what&rsquo;s the matter with him,&rdquo; Jerry

-said.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; Sandy replied, &ldquo;but whatever

-it is, we&rsquo;d better do what he says, or something

-pretty bad might be the matter with us!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Halfway up the path to the house, the tall

-man stopped, turned back, and looked hard at

-the boys before continuing on up the hill.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_66">66</div>

-<p>&ldquo;Mind you do just what I said!&rdquo; he shouted

-back over his shoulder. &ldquo;You just stay in that

-dinghy, and don&rsquo;t get any fancy ideas about exploring

-around. If I find you ashore, I&rsquo;m still as

-ready as ever to use this gun!&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_67">67</div>

-<h2 id="c5"><span class="small">CHAPTER FIVE</span>

-<br />Storm Fears</h2>

-<p>Unpredictable as the wind, the man was all

-smiles when he returned with the two jars filled

-with water. But he still had his gun.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m glad to see you stayed put in your dinghy,&rdquo;

-he said. &ldquo;I kept an eye on you from the hill.&rdquo; He

-handed down the plastic jugs to Sandy and added,

-&ldquo;Sorry I acted so gruff, but you know how it is.

-I live all alone out here, and even though the

-island is only a little over a half mile from the

-mainland it&rsquo;s a pretty isolated spot. I have to be

-careful of strangers. But I should have seen right

-away that you boys are all right.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Thanks,&rdquo; said Sandy. &ldquo;And thanks for filling

-our water jugs. We&rsquo;re sorry we bothered you.&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_68">68</div>

-<p>They cast the dinghy free, rowed quickly back

-to the sloop and, as fast as they could manage it,

-raised the anchor, hoisted the sails and skimmed

-out of the cove. As they rounded the rocky point

-that marked the entrance to the cove, they looked

-back to where the island&rsquo;s lone inhabitant was

-standing on the dock, watching them out of sight,

-his rifle still held ready at his hip.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Boy, that&rsquo;s a strange one!&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;I

-wonder what he&rsquo;s hiding on that island of his&mdash;a

-diamond mine?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;You never can tell,&rdquo; Jerry replied, &ldquo;but it&rsquo;s

-probably nothing at all. I guess the kind of man

-who would want to live all alone on an island

-away from people is bound to be pretty crazy about

-getting all the privacy he can. And as far as I&rsquo;m

-concerned, he can have it. From now on, if we

-need anything, let&rsquo;s head for the mainland!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Dismissing the mysterious rifleman from their

-minds, they set out once more to enjoy the pleasures

-of a brisk wind, blue sky and a trim boat.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_69">69</div>

-<p>The afternoon went swiftly by as Sandy learned

-more and more about handling his boat, and about

-the boats they saw sailing near them. Jerry pointed

-out the different types of boats, explaining more

-fully than before that the ones with one mast were

-called sloops, the two-masted boats were called

-yawls, ketches and schooners. Telling one from the

-other was a matter of knowing the arrangement

-of masts. The ketches had tall mainmasts and

-shorter mizzens behind them. The yawls had even

-shorter mizzens, set as far aft as possible. Schooners,

-with taller mizzen than main, were relatively rare.</p>

-<p>Jerry also pointed to varied types of one-masted

-boats. Not all of them, he told Sandy, were

-sloops, though most were. The sloops had their

-mast stepped about one third back from the bow.

-Cutters had their mast stepped nearly in the center

-of the boat. In addition, they saw a few catboats,

-with their single masts stepped nearly in the bows.</p>

-<p>Learning all this, plus trying to absorb all

-that Jerry was telling him about harbor markers,

-sail handling, steering, types of sails and conditions

-under which each sail is used, Sandy found

-the time flying by. Almost before he realized it,

-the sun was beginning to set and the boats around

-them were all heading back up the channel to

-find their moorings and tie up for the night.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_70">70</div>

-<p>Everywhere they looked, the roadstead of Cliffport

-Bay was as busy as a highway. Sailboats of

-every description, outboard motorboats, big cabin

-cruisers, high-powered motor racers, rowboats,

-canoes, sailing canoes, kayaks, power runabouts,

-fishing excursion boats and dozens of other craft

-were making their way to shore.</p>

-<p>The afternoon, which had started so brightly,

-had become overcast, and the sun glowed sullenly

-behind a low bank of clouds. The breeze which

-had been steady but light during the late afternoon

-hours, suddenly picked up force and became

-a fairly hard wind. It felt cold and damp after the

-hot day. Joining the homebound pleasure fleet,

-Sandy and Jerry picked their way through the now

-crowded harbor, back to Cliffport Boat Yard.</p>

-<p>They arrived in a murky twilight, just a few

-minutes before the time when it would have become

-necessary for them to light the lanterns for

-the red and green running lights demanded by

-the International Rules of the Road.</p>

-<p>The boys decided to drop anchor in the boat

-yard&rsquo;s mooring area, rather than tow the boat back

-to the float where it had been tied. This would

-make it unnecessary to tow the sloop out again

-for the next day&rsquo;s sailing, when they would start

-on the long trip home.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_71">71</div>

-<p>They dropped the sails, removed their slides

-and snaps on mast, boom and forestay, and carefully

-folded them for replacement in the sail bags.

-These were stowed below in their locker just

-forward of the cabin. Then Sandy and Jerry

-turned their attention to getting the boat ready

-for the night.</p>

-<p>Sandy helped Jerry rest the boom in its

-&ldquo;crutch,&rdquo; a piece of wood shaped like the letter

-<i>Y</i>, which was placed standing upright in a slot

-in the stern seat. This kept the boom from swinging

-loose when the boat was unattended, and thus

-protected both the boat, the boom and the rigging

-from damage. All the running gear was then

-lashed down or coiled and put away, the sliding

-cabin door and hatch cover were closed in place,

-and the sloop was ready to be left.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s what&rsquo;s meant by &lsquo;shipshape,&rsquo;&rdquo; Jerry

-said with satisfaction.</p>

-<p>As the boys rowed the dinghy back to the float,

-they felt the first fat drops of rain and they

-noticed how choppy the still waters of the bay

-had become. Jerry cast a sailor&rsquo;s eye at the ominously

-darkening sky.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s more than evening coming on,&rdquo; he

-said. &ldquo;Unless I miss my guess, we&rsquo;re in for a good

-storm tonight. To tell you the truth, I&rsquo;m glad

-we&rsquo;re staying ashore!&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_72">72</div>

-<p>They lifted the dinghy from the water, turned

-it over on the float and placed the stubby oars

-below it. Then, picking up their sea bags, they

-ran for the shelter of the shed as the first torrential

-downpour of the storm washed Cliffport in a solid

-sheet of blinding rain.</p>

-<p class="tb">Later that night, after a change of clothes,

-dinner, and a movie at Cliffport&rsquo;s only theater,

-the boys sat on their beds in the hotel room and

-listened to the howling fury of the storm. Raindrops

-rattled on the windowpanes like hailstones,

-and through the tossing branches of a tree they

-could see the riding lights of a few boats in the

-harbor, rocking violently to and fro. As they

-watched, the wind sent a large barrel bowling

-down the street to smash against a light pole,

-bounce off and roll, erratic as a kicked football,

-out of sight around a corner.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a good thing we anchored out,&rdquo; Jerry said,

-watching this evidence of the storm&rsquo;s power. &ldquo;The

-boat could really have gotten banged up against

-the float if we had tied it up where it was before!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Do you think it&rsquo;ll be safe where it is now?&rdquo;

-Sandy asked anxiously.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Oh, a little wind and water won&rsquo;t bother a

-good boat,&rdquo; Jerry answered. &ldquo;After all, it was

-made for wind and water! Still....&rdquo; He scowled

-and shook his head doubtfully.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_73">73</div>

-<p>&ldquo;Still what?&rdquo; Sandy said with alarm. &ldquo;Is there

-something wrong with the way we left it?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Not really,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m just worried

-about one thing. We&rsquo;re not tied to a permanent

-mooring, the way the other boats around here

-are. That means that we might drag anchor in a

-storm as bad as this one, and if we happen to drag

-into deep water where the anchor can&rsquo;t reach the

-bottom, the boat could drift a long ways off until

-it hooked onto something again. And there&rsquo;s always

-the chance that it could get washed up on the

-rocks somewhere, first!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>With this unhappy thought in mind, the boys

-stared out the window for some time in silence

-as the storm continued unchecked. Finally, knowing

-that worry couldn&rsquo;t possibly help, and that a

-good night&rsquo;s sleep would prepare them to meet

-whatever the morning would bring, they turned

-out the lights and went to bed.</p>

-<p>But, for Sandy, bed was one thing&mdash;sleep was

-another. Although Jerry managed to drop off to

-slumber in no time, Sandy lay a long time awake

-staring at the shadows of the tossing tree on the

-ceiling of the hotel room.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_74">74</div>

-<p>His mind was full of the events of the crowded

-day. It had been quite a day, starting with the

-ride in his uncle&rsquo;s sports car, and proceeding to

-the new boat and learning to sail. Then the mysterious

-man on the island, keeping guard with his

-ever-present rifle, and concluding with a night

-of powerful storm. He reviewed all this, and mixed

-with his recollection his new worries about the

-safety of his boat. A series of images crowded his

-mind&mdash;a vision of the smart sloop lying smashed

-against some rocky piece of shore was mingled

-with a memory of the pleasures of his first day of

-sailing; and somewhere, behind and around all of

-his thoughts, was the unpleasantly frightening

-memory of the man with the gun, waiting on his

-hermit&rsquo;s island.</p>

-<p>All of this mingled in his mind with the sound

-of the storm until Sandy slipped into an uncertain,

-restless sleep&mdash;a sleep filled with vague, shadowy

-dreams, connected only by a sense that somewhere,

-something was wrong.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_75">75</div>

-<h2 id="c6"><span class="small">CHAPTER SIX</span>

-<br />Something Lost&mdash;Something Found!</h2>

-<p>The next morning, when Sandy and Jerry awoke,

-the storm that had lashed Cliffport had vanished

-as if it, too, had been a bad dream.</p>

-<p>Cliffport&rsquo;s Main Street, which fronted the bay,

-was washed clean, and sparkled in the bright

-morning light. The bay waters themselves even

-looked cleaner than before, freshly laundered

-blue and white, with silver points of sunlight

-sprinkled over their peaceful surface. It was, in

-short, a perfect sailing day, and the boys could

-hardly wait to get down to the boat yard to see if

-the sloop had ridden the storm at anchor.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_76">76</div>

-<p>They dressed hurriedly in their sailing clothes&mdash;blue

-jeans, sneakers and sweat shirts&mdash;and bolted

-breakfast in the hotel coffee shop. Then, sea bags

-slung over their shoulders, they raced down the

-street to the Cliffport Boat Yard, rounded the

-corner of the main shed and, at the head of the

-gangway, came to a stop.</p>

-<p>Sandy felt a sick, sinking feeling as he scanned

-the mooring area, searching vainly for a sight of

-his sloop. But where she had ridden at anchor the

-night before, there was only a patch of calm blue

-water.</p>

-<p>It hardly seemed possible that she wasn&rsquo;t there.

-The storm, on this bright, sunny morning, seemed

-never to have happened. Other boats rode peacefully

-at their moorings, apparently untouched by

-the night&rsquo;s wild work. Life in the boat yard and

-on the bay went on as if nothing had occurred. But

-Sandy felt as if it were the end of the world.</p>

-<p>Slowly and silently, the boys walked down the

-gangway to where their dinghy lay like a turtle,

-unharmed. They anxiously scanned the bay on

-all sides, searching for a mast that might be theirs,

-but to no avail. Then Jerry straightened up and

-clapped Sandy on the shoulder.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Come on,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s no use standing

-here moping. The only thing to do now is to take

-out the dinghy and start to hunt.&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_77">77</div>

-<p>They launched the dinghy, put out the stubby

-oars, and rowed away from the float.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Where do we look first?&rdquo; Sandy asked.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll just go the way the wind went,&rdquo; Jerry

-said. &ldquo;Luckily, the storm came from the mainland

-and blew out to sea. That means there&rsquo;s a

-good chance that the boat didn&rsquo;t pile up on the

-shore. Of course, there are a lot of islands out

-there, and plenty of rocks, but there&rsquo;s a lot more

-open water. With any luck we&rsquo;ll find her floating

-safe and sound, somewhere out in the bay. I don&rsquo;t

-think she could have gone too far dragging that

-anchor.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>They headed down the channel, taking occasional

-side excursions around some of the small

-islands whenever they saw, on the other side, a

-mast that could be theirs. But none of the boats

-they found was the right one. The hot sun made

-rowing even the light cockleshell of the dinghy

-unpleasant work. Sandy paused at the oars and

-pushed back his cowlick, then wiped his perspiring

-brow. He was beginning to fear that he would

-never again see his trim new sloop&mdash;unless he was

-to see it lying shattered on one of these rocky

-islands. Then, with dogged determination, he

-picked up his oars once more and bent his back

-to the task of rowing.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_78">78</div>

-<p>Once or twice they asked passing sailors if they

-had seen an unattended sloop out of the mooring

-areas, but though everyone offered sympathy and

-promised to help if they happened to see it, none

-had any information to offer.</p>

-<p>The morning wore on slowly as Sandy and Jerry

-pulled farther and farther away from the mainland,

-exploring every possible hiding place the

-bay had to offer.</p>

-<p>By noon, Sandy&rsquo;s spirits were at low ebb, and he

-was beginning to wonder how he would tell his

-Uncle Russ the bad news. Then, almost tipping

-the unsteady dinghy, Jerry half rose from his seat

-and pointed. &ldquo;Look!&rdquo; he shouted. &ldquo;Over there! I

-think that&rsquo;s her! And will you look at where she

-drifted to!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Sandy dropped the oars and turned to look at

-the small white sloop with the green decks that

-lay quietly bobbing at anchor just outside the

-entrance of the cove where, yesterday, they had

-been welcomed by a gun!</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Of all places to drift to,&rdquo; he gasped. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a

-darn good thing she didn&rsquo;t drift inside his cove,

-or she might be shot full of holes by now!&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_79">79</div>

-<p>Then, with a lighter heart than he had felt all

-morning, Sandy picked up the oars and sent the

-dinghy fairly flying to the side of the trim sloop.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;From now on,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;sleeping bags and air

-mattresses or not, we&rsquo;re sleeping on board until

-we get a permanent mooring for this boat near

-home!&rdquo; Relieved and happy, Sandy climbed on

-board as Jerry tied the dinghy to the stern.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll go below to get the sails out,&rdquo; Sandy said,

-&ldquo;while you unship the boom and get the rigging

-ready.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>He opened the hatch cover and slid back the

-doors, then stepped down into the little cabin.

-As he started forward to the sail lockers, he had a

-sudden, odd feeling that something was wrong,

-something out of place; a strange notion that he

-had seen, out of the corner of his eye, something

-that was not what it should have been.</p>

-<p>Pausing to look around, he saw what had

-bothered him. Clamped to the bulkhead over the

-port bunk was a large, oddly shaped brass pistol,

-like the kind he had always imagined the old-time

-pirates carried. He had never seen anything like

-it before&mdash;and he was almost positive that it had

-not been there yesterday!</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_80">80</div>

-<p>&ldquo;Jerry!&rdquo; he called, sticking his head out of the

-hatch. &ldquo;Come here! I want you to see something

-and tell me what you think.&rdquo; As Jerry poked his

-head into the cabin, Sandy gestured at the brass

-pistol. &ldquo;Was that thing here yesterday, or have

-we gotten into somebody else&rsquo;s boat?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Jerry brought his dark brows together in a

-frown and scratched his crew-cut head. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t

-think it was here. I probably would have noticed

-it. But maybe we just didn&rsquo;t see it. We were so

-busy with other things.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;But why would Uncle Russ have left a pistol

-on board?&rdquo; Sandy asked, puzzled.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;He probably wouldn&rsquo;t have,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;But

-he might have left one of these. That&rsquo;s a flare gun,

-not a regular pistol at all. You use it as a signal

-of distress. It shoots a rocket. Still ... I don&rsquo;t

-remember seeing it. And I know that your uncle

-didn&rsquo;t mention leaving one.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Well, I don&rsquo;t know whether he did or not,&rdquo;

-Sandy said, &ldquo;but we&rsquo;d better make sure this is

-our boat before we go sailing it off. If it belongs to

-that guy on the island, we could get into some

-pretty bad trouble if we took it by mistake!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>As they looked for some identifying marks, an

-idea suddenly occurred to Sandy. &ldquo;Maybe this isn&rsquo;t

-our boat, but one just like it, and maybe the man

-with the gun was expecting it with somebody else

-on board! That might explain his actions!&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_81">81</div>

-<p>&ldquo;That makes sense,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;And in that

-case, we&rsquo;d better find out fast if it&rsquo;s ours. Look&mdash;our

-boat didn&rsquo;t have any name on it, and most

-boats do. If this has a name, we&rsquo;ll know.&rdquo; He

-hurried to the stern to see, and then to the bow,

-where some boat owners fasten name plates, but

-none was to be seen.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;That doesn&rsquo;t prove anything, though,&rdquo; Sandy

-said. &ldquo;But I have an idea. Let&rsquo;s look in the food

-locker. I remember pretty well what was in there

-yesterday, and I doubt if two boats would have

-the identical food supplies. One look should tell

-us.&rdquo; He reached above the galley stove and slid

-back the doors of the locker, then stepped backward

-as if he had been hit.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s sure not our boat,&rdquo; Sandy said in hushed

-tones, for in the locker there was no food at all.

-Instead, where food should have been, was what

-appeared to be a fortune in fresh, green money!</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_82">82</div>

-<h2 id="c7"><span class="small">CHAPTER SEVEN</span>

-<br />A Million Dollars&rsquo; Worth of Trouble</h2>

-<p>Sandy and Jerry, stunned for the moment, stood

-in silence, gazing at the neatly wrapped stacks of

-tens, twenties, fifties, hundreds and five-hundred-dollar

-bills&mdash;more money than either of them

-had ever dreamed of!</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know whose boat this is,&rdquo; Sandy said,

-&ldquo;but whoever he is, he can sure afford a larger

-one!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Awed by the sight of the money, Jerry reached

-out and slipped a five-hundred-dollar bill from its

-wrapper. &ldquo;I just want to look at it for a minute,&rdquo;

-he said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve never seen a five-hundred before!&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_83">83</div>

-<p>Sandy joined him to look at the crisp bill.

-&ldquo;Neither have I,&rdquo; he said. Then, stooping to look

-closer, he took the bill from Jerry&rsquo;s hand and

-examined it with the most intense interest.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Jerry!&rdquo; he said, almost in a whisper. &ldquo;I think

-we&rsquo;ve found more than a stack of money in a

-peculiar place! I may be mistaken, but I think this

-thing is counterfeit!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Counterfeit!&rdquo; Jerry said, with a gasp. &ldquo;How

-can you tell, if you never saw a five-hundred-dollar

-bill before?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Come on over into the sunlight where we can

-see better,&rdquo; Sandy replied, &ldquo;and I&rsquo;ll show you what

-I mean.&rdquo; They moved to the rear of the little

-cabin, where the sun poured in through the open

-hatchway cover. Sandy held the money up to the

-light.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Look at the corners,&rdquo; he said, pointing to the

-lower right-hand corner of the bill. &ldquo;You see all

-those fine hair lines that make the looping, criss-cross

-pattern you see on all paper money? Well, I

-read once that those loops and swirls are the hardest

-part of a bill to counterfeit, and if you&rsquo;re on

-the lookout for phony money you should always

-look there first. Ones or one-thousands, they&rsquo;re all

-very complicated to engrave. On a genuine bill the

-lines are sharp and clear. On a counterfeit, they&rsquo;re

-usually a little fuzzy, especially where two lines

-cross. Look over here, right next to the five-hundred-dollar

-mark, for instance.&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_84">84</div>

-<p>He pointed to where a complicated series of

-fine lines that came together had made a small

-smear, instead of a sharp, well-defined pattern.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;d never find sloppy work like that on a

-genuine government bill,&rdquo; Sandy said, pointing

-to this and to another telltale spot his sharp eyes

-had uncovered.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I see what you mean,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;Boy, there

-must be more than a million dollars&rsquo; worth of this

-useless stuff in that food locker!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s not so useless to someone,&rdquo; Sandy returned.

-&ldquo;Whoever made this stuff and is responsible for it

-is sure making real money out of it in the end&mdash;and

-an awful lot of real money, too!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Jerry nodded thoughtfully, then said, &ldquo;Where

-do you suppose it&rsquo;s coming from?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;That shouldn&rsquo;t be too hard to figure out,&rdquo;

-Sandy answered. &ldquo;That man on the island was

-pretty nervous about having any unexpected

-guests, I&rsquo;d say. I&rsquo;ll bet you this whole stack of

-money that he&rsquo;s behind the whole thing, and that

-this is his boat that we&rsquo;re on!&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_85">85</div>

-<p>&ldquo;You must be right,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;From the way

-that he came racing down that path with his gun

-yesterday, he must have been watching us all

-along, yet he didn&rsquo;t come to stop us until we had

-dropped our anchor, lowered our sails, and were

-halfway in to shore in the dinghy! We should have

-realized when he didn&rsquo;t stop us sooner what that

-meant. It meant that something funny was going

-on here!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s right!&rdquo; Sandy agreed. &ldquo;He must have

-been expecting somebody else to come along in

-this boat&mdash;the same class and colors as ours&mdash;and

-he thought that we were whoever he was expecting&mdash;until

-he saw us in the dinghy! That&rsquo;s why he

-was acting so confused and excited that he didn&rsquo;t

-know whether to shoot at us, or to be nice and let

-us get our water and be on our way. We really

-caught him off guard!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Right,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;And now we&rsquo;ve confused

-the boats the same way he did, and we&rsquo;ve caught

-him off guard again!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Sandy sat looking silently at the counterfeit five-hundred-dollar

-bill, frowning. Then he looked up

-at his friend and said, &ldquo;The question now is, what

-are we going to do about it? We&rsquo;re pretty lucky

-that we weren&rsquo;t seen coming on board this boat,

-but do you think our luck is going to last? I&rsquo;m

-worried that we won&rsquo;t be able to get away from

-here again without being seen.&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_86">86</div>

-<p>&ldquo;We haven&rsquo;t got much choice in the matter,

-have we?&rdquo; Jerry answered. &ldquo;The longer we stay

-here, the worse our chances will be. There&rsquo;s no

-telling when the man with the gun or somebody

-else will come out here to do something with this

-money, and if they find us here....&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;d sure hate to cross that fellow,&rdquo; Sandy

-agreed. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t like the way he handles that rifle

-of his. He looks too darn ready to use it!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Stuffing the counterfeit five-hundred-dollar bill

-into his pocket, Sandy stood up. &ldquo;We&rsquo;d better get

-going now, while we still have a chance,&rdquo; he said.

-&ldquo;The only thing to do now is to get this bill to

-the police as evidence of what we&rsquo;ve found, and

-to put them on to this island.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Sandy started up from the cabin but, as his head

-emerged from the hatchway, he stopped dead in

-his tracks, for floating in a dinghy just a few feet

-away was the mysterious owner of the island accompanied

-by two tough-looking sailors! Sandy

-looked in dismay from their three faces to the

-muzzles of three guns pointed directly at him!</p>

-<p>It was not a pleasant smile that the man from

-the island gave him as he said, &ldquo;Well! This is quite

-a surprise for all of us, isn&rsquo;t it? Are you still looking

-for water? Or do you have a better story to

-entertain me with today?&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_87">87</div>

-<h2 id="c8"><span class="small">CHAPTER EIGHT</span>

-<br />Double Blackout</h2>

-<p>Sandy tried his hardest to look unknowing and

-innocent, and at the same time shocked and outraged.

-With the three guns aimed at him, it was

-not an easy job.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the idea?&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve never

-seen anybody so ready with a gun as you are! We

-were only looking for our boat. You know it looks

-the same as yours. We thought for a while that

-this was it, but....&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_88">88</div>

-<p>&ldquo;But you found out, after some thorough

-snooping, that it wasn&rsquo;t, didn&rsquo;t you?&rdquo; the man

-sneered. &ldquo;Of course you did. It&rsquo;s my boat, all right!

-And you&rsquo;re trespassing on it! And this is my island

-too, and you were trespassing there yesterday!

-And if I were to shoot you, I would be perfectly

-within my rights as a landowner!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Sandy tried with difficulty to smile reassuringly.

-&ldquo;Take it easy, mister,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Honestly, we

-were just looking for our boat. It dragged anchor

-in the storm last night, and when we saw yours

-we made a natural mistake and thought it was

-ours. Okay, it isn&rsquo;t. We made a mistake, that&rsquo;s all.

-Now if you&rsquo;ll just let us apologize, we&rsquo;ll get off

-your private property and go looking again.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>But the man didn&rsquo;t show the slightest intention

-of even moving his rifle from the ready, much

-less of letting the boys go.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Of course you&rsquo;ll go looking again,&rdquo; he said.

-&ldquo;Looking for what you were looking for yesterday

-and today. Oh, no! I hardly think I can let you

-go!&rdquo; Then he smiled his peculiar smile again.

-&ldquo;What&rsquo;s more,&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;even if I were to let

-you go, I would first have to ask you to return the

-money you stole&mdash;the money I see sticking out

-of your pocket!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Sandy&rsquo;s heart sank. There was nothing he could

-think of to say now, and he could see no way out

-of the situation. He sank wearily to a seat in the

-cockpit and sighed.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_89">89</div>

-<p>&ldquo;I guess we can both stop play-acting about this

-trespassing thing,&rdquo; he said. He pulled the telltale

-bill out of his pocket and threw it on the deck.

-&ldquo;This is what you&rsquo;ve been so upset about all along,

-isn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re a very bright boy,&rdquo; the man with the

-gun said. &ldquo;Far too bright, I&rsquo;m afraid. You have

-this whole thing figured out already, haven&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Most of it,&rdquo; Sandy admitted. &ldquo;At least the parts

-that count. You&rsquo;re using this island to make

-counterfeit money, and you&rsquo;re using this sailboat

-to take it somewhere. That&rsquo;s about all I know,

-but it&rsquo;s enough to get you in trouble, isn&rsquo;t it,

-Mr.&mdash;?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Jones is the name,&rdquo; the man said. &ldquo;Yes, I

-would say it was quite enough. The only mistake

-you&rsquo;ve made is your conclusion. What you know is

-enough to get <i>you</i> in trouble&mdash;not me. In fact, I

-should hate to be in as much trouble as you two

-boys are in right now!&rdquo; Jones put down his rifle

-for a moment and said, &ldquo;Do you mind if I come

-on board my boat so that we can discuss your

-difficulties in more comfort?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Jones stepped out of the dinghy to the deck of

-the little sloop and settled himself comfortably in

-the stern seat while his two silent crewmen kept

-Sandy covered. When he was set, with his ever-present

-rifle held at ready across his knees, he was

-followed on board by the larger and meaner looking

-of the two sailors, who stationed himself beside Jones.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_90">90</div>

-<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes,&rdquo; Jones repeated, &ldquo;I should say that

-what you know is quite enough! And, since you

-already have too much information to ever let

-you leave here with, I&rsquo;ll be happy to satisfy your

-immense curiosity by giving you a little more. But

-why not have your friend join us on deck?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>When Jerry had come up from the cabin and

-was sitting beside Sandy, Jones cleared his throat,

-as if he were about to give a formal speech.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;As far as you went in your thinking, you are

-most certainly right,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I use this boat to

-transport counterfeit money which I make on my

-island. I take it to a waiting freighter that meets

-me five miles off shore&mdash;well beyond the legal

-jurisdiction of the United States government, in

-international waters. The freighter takes my pretty

-counterfeit money and disposes of it in foreign

-markets, where I get a good price for it, and where

-not every bright and nosy boy is out to make a

-nuisance of himself.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Then, once again, Jones smiled his peculiar and

-unpleasant smile. &ldquo;I find the foreign markets most

-useful for disposing of items which are too difficult

-to get rid of here. I expect that you will not

-be much harder to dispose of than this money,

-when you are beyond the limits of U.S. waters!&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_91">91</div>

-<p>Sandy looked at Jerry in silence, desperately

-hoping his friend would come up with some flash

-of inspiration&mdash;some idea&mdash;which would help

-them to get out of this situation. But Jerry was no

-help. For that matter, Sandy reflected, he was not

-much help himself. But as long as he kept &ldquo;Jones&rdquo;

-talking, he&rsquo;d get some more information and

-meanwhile, perhaps, he or Jerry might think of

-something.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s only one thing that has me puzzled

-in all this,&rdquo; Sandy said therefore. &ldquo;Why did you

-leave this boat full of money floating around outside

-of the cove?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Jones laughed. &ldquo;There you have the full essence

-of our little comedy of errors,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Last

-night&rsquo;s storm probably tore more than one

-hundred boats loose from their anchorages and

-moorings. Yours, I assure you, wasn&rsquo;t the only one

-that drifted a good distance, and neither was

-mine!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Yours?&rdquo; Jerry gasped. &ldquo;You mean that our

-boat <i>did</i> drift over this way? And that you&mdash;?&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_92">92</div>

-<p>&ldquo;I think you understand,&rdquo; Jones replied. &ldquo;But

-it wasn&rsquo;t I. It was these stupid fools who work

-for me. They had loaded the money on board the

-boat last night before the storm. Then, when it

-blew up, we knew that it was impossible to sail

-to the freighter until the storm had passed. They

-failed to take the money out of the boat for the

-night, trusting to luck that nothing would go

-wrong. But something did go wrong! My boat

-broke loose and floated out around the point to

-where it is now. Your boat drifted up to the

-entrance of my cove. When they came out this

-morning, my assistants saw your boat, and did not

-see mine.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Jones laughed a short, sharp laugh. &ldquo;They

-actually sailed your sloop five miles out to the

-freighter! Of course they discovered their mistake

-when they opened the money locker and found it

-full of canned food!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>He looked at the sailors with disgust, then continued.

-&ldquo;When they realized their error, they

-promptly sailed back here, but by that time you

-had found my boat and assumed it to be yours.

-When they told me their story, I guessed at once

-what had happened and went to correct the mistake

-before you found out about our little business.

-If you had only come a half hour later, you

-would have found your own boat and sailed it off

-in perfect safety. Unfortunately for you, you were

-just a little too soon.&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_93">93</div>

-<p>&ldquo;As long as you&rsquo;re telling us the whole story,&rdquo;

-Jerry said, &ldquo;will you answer a question for me?

-I don&rsquo;t understand why you bother with sailboats,

-when a power boat could do the job so much

-faster.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s a fair question,&rdquo; Jones said. &ldquo;You <i>are</i>

-smart boys, aren&rsquo;t you? Well, I pride myself on

-using my brains, too. I use this innocent-looking

-sloop for several reasons, one of which caused this

-whole ridiculous mix-up. For one thing, an individual

-member of a popular class of sailboat is

-very hard for the casual observer to identify. This

-we have both seen to be true. For another thing,

-everyone thinks of a sailboat as being merely a

-pleasure craft, and would never suspect it of anything

-illegal. It can go in and out of the harbor

-on a regular schedule and nobody will notice

-it or even realize it&rsquo;s the same boat they are

-seeing. Third, all power boats have to be registered

-and licensed by the Coast Guard, while a

-sailboat is so anonymous that it doesn&rsquo;t even have

-to have a name. Fourth, it gives me a reason to

-live on this island. To the people who stop to

-think of me, if they think of me at all, I am a retired

-gentleman whose principal hobby is sailing,

-and who lives on an island in order to get the most

-enjoyment out of the sport.&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_94">94</div>

-<p>Again Jones smiled, and Sandy shivered. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s

-quite a neat setup, don&rsquo;t you agree?&rdquo; Jones said.

-&ldquo;And, with the same neatness that is a part of my

-way of life, I am now going to put an end to this

-whole unpleasant interruption.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Suddenly dropping his lazy conversational

-manner, Jones sat upright and pointed his rifle at

-Sandy. Not moving his eyes from the boys, he

-spoke to the sailor who was still standing silent by

-his side. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ll have to take them out to the

-freighter now. There&rsquo;s nothing else to do. I&rsquo;ll

-decide what to do with them later on. You and

-Turk sail this boat and I&rsquo;ll follow in theirs. Lock

-them below,&rdquo; he added, nodding toward Sandy

-and Jerry.</p>

-<p>For the first time since they had seen him, the

-sailor spoke. &ldquo;Okay,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;We won&rsquo;t mess it

-up this time.&rdquo; Then, this being apparently the

-longest speech of which he was capable, he shut his

-mouth into a thin, hard line, and moved heavily

-to the boys.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_95">95</div>

-<p>Using his pistol as a goad, he poked Sandy in

-the ribs and motioned him to go below. As Sandy

-started to take his first step down into the cabin,

-the sailor shoved him roughly and sent him

-sprawling onto the deck below. His head spinning,

-Sandy looked up to see the giant sailor towering

-above him. He was conscious of an odd noise, like

-a strangled, slow sobbing, far away. What was it?

-He had never heard such an ugly sound in his

-life....</p>

-<p>Then, as his head cleared, he realized what it

-was that he was hearing. The sailor was laughing!</p>

-<p>Afterward, Sandy was unable to explain why

-the strange laughing sound, and the sight of the

-warped expression that only faintly resembled a

-smile, should have made him behave as he did.

-An uncontrollable fury filled him and he jumped

-to his feet with a headlong rush!</p>

-<p>Caught off guard by Sandy&rsquo;s sudden attack, the

-sailor made a clumsy move to sidestep, but not

-before Sandy&rsquo;s swing had caught him a terrific

-blow in the ribs. All of Sandy&rsquo;s six feet of wiry

-muscle went into the blow, and the sailor reeled

-back, staggering.</p>

-<p>Sandy followed him into the cockpit to take

-advantage of the surprise attack, just in time to see

-Jones bring down the barrel of his rifle sharply on

-Jerry&rsquo;s head. Sandy whirled to face Jones as Jerry

-dropped to the deck.</p>

-<p>He started forward, cocking his fist to lash out

-before Jones could raise his rifle again, but

-suddenly, with a sound like a bat striking a ball, a

-blinding light seemed to explode in his face. This

-first sensation was followed by a dull roaring

-sound and a spreading pool of inky blackness. He

-felt his knees buckle....</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_96">96</div>

-<p>Somewhere, from afar, he heard Jones speaking

-in bored tones.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Bull,&rdquo; he was saying, almost lazily, &ldquo;you know

-how I dislike unnecessary violence in any form. If

-you hadn&rsquo;t shoved the boy, this little scene would

-never&mdash;&rdquo;</p>

-<p>And that was the last Sandy was to hear for

-quite a while.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_97">97</div>

-<h2 id="c9"><span class="small">CHAPTER NINE</span>

-<br />To the Freighter</h2>

-<p>When Sandy came to, the first thing he was aware

-of was a terrific headache. This was accompanied

-by such severe dizziness that when he tried to sit

-up he sank back immediately, holding his head.

-Gingerly, he ran his hand over his skull as if to

-make sure that it was still all in one piece. Then

-he lay still for a while, afraid to try moving anything

-else, and looked at the ceiling above him.</p>

-<p>Slowly, the dizziness ebbed away and the pain

-lurking behind his eyes settled down to a more

-bearable level. When he felt it was safe to try, he

-moved more cautiously than the first time, sat up

-and swung his long legs over the edge of the bunk.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_98">98</div>

-<p>For a moment, he simply sat there with his

-elbows on his knees and his head propped in his

-hands, and looked at the decking. He had to think

-hard, as if he were remembering a dream that was

-fast fading away. Why was he in this bunk below?

-How was Jerry handling the boat alone? He

-frowned, pushed back his cowlick and raised his

-head.</p>

-<p>As he did so, he caught sight of the brass flare

-gun clipped to its bracket on the opposite bulkhead,

-and suddenly he remembered everything

-that had happened. Of course! This was not his

-boat at all, and Jerry wasn&rsquo;t sailing it alone&mdash;or

-in any other way, for that matter!</p>

-<p>Jerry lay on the opposite bunk below the flare

-gun, propped up on one elbow and looking at

-him with a grin.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I guess it isn&rsquo;t funny,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;but you sure

-took an awful long time to wake up and figure out

-what had happened to you! I&rsquo;ve been lying here

-awake for five minutes now, just watching you

-come up from under!&rdquo; Ruefully rubbing a hand

-across his black crew-cut, he added, &ldquo;I guess I

-must have taken the same length of time doing it

-when I woke up, but there wasn&rsquo;t anybody here

-to time me!&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_99">99</div>

-<p>&ldquo;I saw Jones hit you,&rdquo; Sandy said, &ldquo;and he sure

-wasn&rsquo;t making any special effort to be gentle. I

-guess that Bull, the big sailor, got me from behind

-when I turned to go after Jones.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Still rubbing his head, Jerry sat up in his bunk

-and faced his friend. &ldquo;Sandy,&rdquo; he asked, &ldquo;what

-made you take a swing at Bull like that? You sure

-must have known that the two of us didn&rsquo;t stand

-much of a chance in a fight against three men with

-guns!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t suppose I was really thinking at all,&rdquo;

-Sandy answered. &ldquo;I know it was a pretty foolish

-thing to do, but there was just something about

-Bull&rsquo;s laugh.... Anyway, I&rsquo;m sorry. It could

-have got us killed right then and there, I guess. As

-it is, I think we&rsquo;re lucky to have got away with

-nothing more than a couple of headaches.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;What do you mean, a couple?&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve

-got two myself!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Both boys laughed, but as their laughter died

-down, they became more serious than they had

-been before.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Look, we can sit here and make jokes about

-the situation until they get us out to that

-freighter,&rdquo; Sandy said, &ldquo;but that isn&rsquo;t going to

-help us to figure out a way to escape and get to

-the police.&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_100">100</div>

-<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re perfectly right,&rdquo; Jerry agreed. &ldquo;We&rsquo;d

-better scout around and size things up while we&rsquo;ve

-got a chance.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;And we&rsquo;d better do it fast,&rdquo; Sandy added. &ldquo;We

-don&rsquo;t know how long we&rsquo;ve been knocked out, so

-we haven&rsquo;t any idea how much time we have left

-before we arrive at the freighter. And by then, it

-might very well be too late to do anything for ourselves

-at all.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Half rising from their bunks, for the cabin roof

-was too low to allow them full standing headroom,

-they moved aft to the sliding doors that separated

-them from the cockpit. Gently testing the doors,

-Sandy found that they were locked, as he had

-assumed they would be. A crack of light showed

-where the two halves of the door met, and he

-placed his eye to it. With a frown, he turned

-around to look at Jerry.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Boy, they&rsquo;re not taking any chances this time,&rdquo;

-he whispered. &ldquo;Both of the sailors are out there in

-the cockpit, and the one called Turk has his pistol

-in his hand, and it&rsquo;s pointed right at this door!&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_101">101</div>

-<p>Moving back to the bunks, Sandy and Jerry

-knelt to look through the small windows above

-them. On both sides of the sloop, there was

-nothing to see but water&mdash;not so much as a buoy

-or another boat in sight. Far off to the starboard

-side, they made out a low smudge that was the

-shore.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;We must be almost there!&rdquo; Sandy said.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Do you think there&rsquo;s any use trying the forward

-hatch?&rdquo; asked Jerry. &ldquo;Or do you suppose

-that they have that one locked tight, too?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know if it matters much one way or the

-other,&rdquo; Sandy sighed. &ldquo;Even if it is open, I

-wouldn&rsquo;t care to stick my head out&mdash;not with

-Turk sitting back there with his pistol ready! I

-think I&rsquo;ve had enough of rushing into pistols for

-one day!&rdquo; Putting his hand to his head, he felt the

-lump that was forming above his right ear.</p>

-<p>Moving with the most extreme caution, so as to

-attract no attention from their guards, they started

-to explore the cabin for whatever possibilities it

-had to offer. Coming to the two tiny forward portholes,

-barely large enough to put a hand through,

-Sandy paused to take a look forward.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_102">102</div>

-<p>Before their bow, perhaps fifty yards away, was

-a boat sailing calmly along as if the whole world

-were on a holiday. For one short instant, Sandy

-thought that this might be their chance&mdash;perhaps

-a signal with the flare gun might bring aid from

-the passing sailor! But his hopes were shattered in

-no time as he realized that the sloop sailing ahead

-was his own, sailed by Jones who was leading the

-way to the freighter that waited, like doom, not

-far off.</p>

-<p>Even in his hopelessness, Sandy could not help

-pausing to admire his boat, graceful and trim,

-making good time beating into a steady breeze. He

-thought for a moment of the preceding day when

-he had learned to take the tiller and had first

-felt the happy pride of ownership and accomplishment

-that comes to every boat owner. What a

-change in fortunes this new day had brought!

-Now his boat was no longer his and, instead of

-carrying him to pleasure, was leading him to what

-looked like certain disaster!</p>

-<p>As he watched, his boat suddenly put about on

-a new tack. He saw Jones skillfully handling both

-the tiller and the sheets. The jib was swiftly

-brought over to fill and, together with the mainsail,

-was trimmed and drawing in no time. Whatever

-else you could say about Jones, Sandy

-thought, the man sure knew how to handle a boat!</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_103">103</div>

-<p>The new tack set by Jones was followed by their

-sailor-guards. With a creak of tackle and rigging

-and a shifting of weight to the opposite side, the

-little sloop came about. Still at his lookout post at

-the forward port, Sandy saw the head of the boat

-swing about. As it did so, he caught sight of their

-destination.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Jerry! Look!&rdquo; he whispered, motioning his

-friend to join him at the other porthole. There,

-high in the water, perhaps a mile away, was the

-dark shape of the freighter. Wisps of gray-white

-smoke curled from its stack and drifted off in the

-breeze. It was an ordinary-looking freight cargo

-ship, such as you would see in any port of the

-world. It had a black hull, a white deckhouse and

-a black stack marked with green stripes. All

-perfectly ordinary, perhaps, but to Sandy and

-Jerry it looked sinister and piratical. They stared

-at it for a few minutes, trying to judge their rate

-of progress from the lessening distance between

-themselves and the black-hulled ship. Then Sandy

-tore himself away from the porthole and grabbed

-Jerry&rsquo;s arm.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Jerry, we&rsquo;ve got to start acting fast,&rdquo; he said.

-&ldquo;There&rsquo;s hardly any time left!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Act how?&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;What can we do but sit

-here and wait like a couple of chickens in a crate

-being taken to market? If you can think of anything

-to do, I&rsquo;m game, but I haven&rsquo;t got an idea in

-my head.&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_104">104</div>

-<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think there&rsquo;s anything we can do about

-the situation now,&rdquo; Sandy said, &ldquo;but I have an idea

-that might work later on. It may not be worth

-much, but anything&rsquo;s worth trying.&rdquo; He cast his

-eyes about the small cabin.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Did you by any chance come across a first-aid

-kit while you were searching?&rdquo; he asked.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Yes, I did,&rdquo; Jerry answered. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s in that locker

-next to the money. But what do you want it for?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Bring it over and I&rsquo;ll show you,&rdquo; Sandy

-answered.</p>

-<p>While Jerry went for the first-aid kit, Sandy

-took the brass flare pistol from its bracket above

-the bunk. Then he sat down on the bunk and

-rolled up his pants leg. &ldquo;Here,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Give

-me some tape. I&rsquo;m going to strap this bulky thing

-to my leg if we have enough.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;What for?&rdquo; Jerry asked in surprise. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s not a

-real gun, you know. All it does is fire a flare. Besides,

-there&rsquo;s only one flare in here, and I don&rsquo;t

-know if that can do us very much good.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t care about the flares,&rdquo; Sandy answered.

-&ldquo;It&rsquo;s the gun itself that I&rsquo;m interested in. It fooled

-me when I saw it and it just might possibly fool

-someone else who might not be familiar with these

-things. I&rsquo;m hoping that if we get a chance to pull

-it on someone after dark, we can fool him long

-enough to get hold of a real gun that will help us

-escape!&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_105">105</div>

-<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s not a bad idea,&rdquo; Jerry admitted. &ldquo;That

-is, if we&rsquo;re still alive by dark!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s about all I&rsquo;m hoping for now,&rdquo; Sandy

-answered. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know whether we can do any

-good with this flare gun or not, but it&rsquo;s pretty clear

-that we can&rsquo;t escape from <i>this</i> boat. So I&rsquo;m doing

-what I can to let us be able to take advantage of

-any chance we get on board the freighter. If we&rsquo;re

-lucky enough to <i>get</i> a chance.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>As he spoke, Sandy was fastening the bulky flare

-pistol to the inside of his calf, making it as secure

-as he could with the tape from the first-aid kit.

-Finished at last, he stood up as well as he could

-in the low-ceilinged cabin, and tried to walk

-around.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Does it show too much?&rdquo; he asked Jerry,

-shaking his leg a little.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;It shows,&rdquo; Jerry said, without much encouragement.

-&ldquo;But maybe if you move around carefully,

-and if they don&rsquo;t take a sudden interest in your

-legs, you might get away with it. Anyway, what can

-we lose by trying?&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_106">106</div>

-<p>Sandy looked down at the bulge which so obviously

-distorted the leg of his blue jeans. He was

-afraid that he would never get away with it. He

-remembered the bell-bottom pants that the Navy

-enlisted men wear and that all sailors once wore,

-and he wondered if their original purpose had

-been to carry concealed weapons. Whatever they

-were for, he sure wished he were wearing a pair

-now!</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I guess this is about as good as we can get it,&rdquo;

-Sandy said. &ldquo;If one of us only had a jacket on, we

-could probably hide the gun under an arm, but

-these sweat shirts just don&rsquo;t leave enough room.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;No, I think the leg is a better place anyway,&rdquo;

-Jerry said. &ldquo;If they search us for weapons, they&rsquo;re

-apt to miss your leg, but they&rsquo;d never miss patting

-you under the arm. Anyway, we don&rsquo;t have a

-jacket, and as far as I can see there&rsquo;s no place else

-to hide the thing.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>The boys took a last look around the cabin to

-see if there was anything else to help them, but

-there was not even a small kitchen knife or a can

-opener in the little galley. It seemed that Mr.

-Jones kept only counterfeit money in that area. As

-they were carefully exploring every possible nook

-and cranny in the cabin, they felt the sloop heel to

-the other side as it once more came about to go on

-a new tack.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_107">107</div>

-<p>From the vantage point of the two forward ports

-they saw the reason for this latest maneuver. They

-were coming up to the wind alongside the

-freighter, preparing to stop. The high sides of the

-big ship loomed above them like the walls of a

-fortress, but chipped and scarred with streaks of

-rust. As the sloop swung completely into the wind,

-losing headway, they caught sight of Jones making

-a line fast to the bow of Sandy&rsquo;s boat. Then, with

-a rattle of slides and a clumping of heavy steps on

-the cabin roof overhead, the counterfeiters&rsquo; craft

-came to a halt and was made fast alongside the

-freighter.</p>

-<p>Whatever was to happen, it would happen now!</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_108">108</div>

-<h2 id="c10"><span class="small">CHAPTER TEN</span>

-<br />Aboard the Floating Prison</h2>

-<p>Moving away from the forward portholes, Sandy

-and Jerry sat on the edges of the bunks and waited

-for their captors to come and get them. Both boys

-made themselves look as if they were completely

-dejected&mdash;as if they had already given up any

-hopes they might have had of escaping or of being

-rescued.</p>

-<p>In a few minutes the footsteps on the deck and

-cabin top stopped and the little craft lay bobbing

-and wallowing in the sea swell that rose and fell

-alongside the freighter.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_109">109</div>

-<p>Rope bumpers, large braided lengths of thick

-cordage, were lashed to the sides of the sloop to

-keep it from being damaged by rubbing and banging

-against the steel side of the big ship.</p>

-<p>Although they were listening as closely as possible

-to everything that went on, they could not

-make out the words they heard shouted from the

-freighter&rsquo;s deck far above. Nevertheless, the sense

-of them was made clear by the answer that Turk

-bellowed back.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Yeah! we got the stuff this time, all right! And

-we got a couple of other pieces of cargo with us,

-too! Wait and we&rsquo;ll show you!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>This was the moment, Sandy thought. He

-would have to be careful, he warned himself, not

-to lose his temper as he had done last time, even

-if he was roughed up and shoved around again.

-And above all, he must be careful about the way

-he moved. One false step would surely outline the

-telltale shape of the flare gun taped to his leg&mdash;and

-that would be the end of the only &ldquo;weapon&rdquo;

-that he and Jerry had! Not only that, but it might

-well be the end of the only chance they would

-have to get away with whole skins!</p>

-<p>A bolt grated in its slide on the companionway

-door and the hatch slid open to reveal Turk,

-pistol in hand, grinning nastily at them.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_110">110</div>

-<p>&ldquo;Okay, gents,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;The first-class passage

-on the local ferry is over. Just step up on deck,

-and we&rsquo;ll transfer to the next vessel.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>As Sandy reached the companionway steps,

-Turk reached down and grabbed him by the neck

-of his shirt. With a swift heave, he sent Sandy

-sprawling on the cockpit deck. Keeping a tight

-control on his temper, Sandy confined his thoughts

-to worrying about getting his leg tucked under

-him in such a position that the flare pistol

-wouldn&rsquo;t show.</p>

-<p>But he need not have worried, for Turk was too

-busy enjoying himself giving the same treatment

-to Jerry, who came flying out of the cabin to land

-heavily on the deck alongside Sandy.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;These boys sure play a lot of rough games,&rdquo; he

-murmured. &ldquo;And I&rsquo;m afraid that this is only the

-beginning of a whole world&rsquo;s series!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Take it easy,&rdquo; Sandy whispered to his friend.

-&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s just go along with them quietly. Maybe we

-can keep in one piece until we have a chance to

-figure a way out.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>At Turk&rsquo;s orders, they rose to their feet. Looking

-up to the freighter&rsquo;s deck high above them,

-they saw the other sailor, Bull, already on board,

-at the top of a long rope ladder. He too had his

-pistol held ready, and the expression on his face

-gave every indication that he would be only too

-glad to use it if he were given even half an excuse to do so.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_111">111</div>

-<p>&ldquo;Get up that ladder,&rdquo; Turk ordered, &ldquo;and don&rsquo;t

-try nothing funny. We&rsquo;ll have you covered all the

-way.&rdquo; He waved his pistol at Jerry to indicate that

-he wanted him to go up the ladder first.</p>

-<p>Sandy&rsquo;s heart seemed to sink in his chest. The

-order of climbing was all wrong&mdash;it couldn&rsquo;t be

-wronger! Jerry first, himself next, and Turk last!

-Surely Turk, if he was below him looking up as he

-climbed, couldn&rsquo;t fail to notice the flare pistol

-taped to Sandy&rsquo;s leg!</p>

-<p>Acting as if he misunderstood Turk&rsquo;s wordless

-command, Sandy stepped forward and grabbed

-the rope ladder, but the sailor&rsquo;s big hand gripped

-him by the shoulder hard and firmly pulled him

-back.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;You sure are eager, ain&rsquo;t ya, kid? And you&rsquo;re

-tricky, too. Now why did you want to go up that

-ladder first? That ain&rsquo;t no picnic or party up

-there!&rdquo; He screwed his big face into a frown of

-deep thought. Apparently unable to reach a decision,

-he undid his thinking expression and snarled

-at Sandy. &ldquo;Just stop thinkin&rsquo; up tricks, see! You

-let me do the thinkin&rsquo; here! Now, you go on first,

-the way I told ya!&rdquo; He pushed Jerry toward the

-ladder.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_112">112</div>

-<p>Resigned to having his flare gun discovered, and

-almost resigned to whatever would happen next,

-Sandy moved to the ladder to take his turn, when

-once more the big hand of Turk pulled him

-back. &ldquo;I told you I&rsquo;d do the thinkin&rsquo;!&rdquo; Turk

-said. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know what you got up your sleeve,

-but whatever it is, you&rsquo;d better forget it. I&rsquo;m goin&rsquo;

-up next!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>At last, here was a turn of luck! Sandy could

-hardly keep from grinning as Turk started to

-mount the rope ladder. The big sailor swung up

-easily, keeping his eyes always turned downward

-to Sandy. Halfway up, he stopped.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Come on, now,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You won&rsquo;t be able

-to play no tricks this way. You&rsquo;re too far back for

-any leg grabbing, and I got this gun aimed right

-at the top of your head. Now come on up, and

-come slow!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Sandy stepped from the deck of the sloop to the

-lower rungs of the rope ladder and did as he was

-told, moving his &ldquo;gun leg&rdquo; as carefully as he

-could without running the risk of attracting any

-attention to it. At least, he thought with some

-satisfaction, he had gotten over the first hurdle!</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_113">113</div>

-<p>On the deck of the freighter, the boys were met

-by Jones, Bull, and a mean-looking crew of some

-of the dirtiest men they had ever seen. The

-freighter itself was none too clean, with paint

-scaling from the decks and splotches of grease

-covering the cargo-handling winches and other

-deck machinery. The white deckhouse, seen from

-close quarters, was a dingy and spotted gray, and

-the portholes were streaked with dirt and dried

-salt.</p>

-<p>In the midst of a rat&rsquo;s nest of coiled ropes, fraying

-cables and other ship&rsquo;s debris, Jones sat on an

-overturned crate as if it were an easy chair. He

-seemed perfectly at ease and completely out of

-place at the same time, his smart sports clothes and

-yachting cap making an odd contrast to the mixed

-clothing of the freighter&rsquo;s crew.</p>

-<p>Despite his air of being a gentleman of leisure,

-Jones had his rifle still with him, lying across his

-knees, and his long fingers played restlessly with

-the safety catch and the trigger.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Gentlemen,&rdquo; he smiled. &ldquo;Welcome aboard. I

-hope you will find our modest accommodations

-suitable for your long journey. The Captain will

-arrive in a moment, and I am sure that he will do

-whatever is in his power to see to it that you are

-treated&mdash;appropriately.&rdquo; Still smiling, he turned

-to Bull and said, &ldquo;Bull, see to it that our passengers

-aren&rsquo;t carrying any unnecessary luggage.&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_114">114</div>

-<p>Bull looked puzzled. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t getcha,&rdquo; he

-mumbled.</p>

-<p>Jones rose with a swift movement, his smile

-turned at once to ice. &ldquo;If you weren&rsquo;t such a stupid

-lout, perhaps you&rsquo;d get me the first time I speak

-to you! If you weren&rsquo;t such a stupid lout, we

-wouldn&rsquo;t have had these boys here with us in the

-first place.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>He moved forward as if to strike the cowering

-Bull, but stopped and regained control over himself.

-Once more, he put on his bland smile.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Pardon my temper and my little jokes, Bull,&rdquo;

-he said. &ldquo;What I meant by &lsquo;unnecessary luggage&rsquo;

-was concealed weapons. In other words, frisk

-them.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Bull shook his head and said, &ldquo;Why&rsquo;ntcha say

-so inna first place?&rdquo; and started toward Jerry and

-Sandy.</p>

-<p>Once again Sandy tensed. If only his luck would

-hold and he could get through without having

-Bull find the flare gun! Otherwise....</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_115">115</div>

-<p>He watched as Bull patted Jerry, none too

-gently. He realized that, if Jerry had been wearing

-a jacket under which to hide the flare gun, it

-would surely have been discovered. Soon Bull was

-finished with Jerry, and it was Sandy&rsquo;s turn. Bull

-frisked him quickly and clumsily, patting his chest

-and under his arms, even though it was obvious

-that he couldn&rsquo;t possibly have hidden anything

-there. Bull&rsquo;s big hands continued down to Sandy&rsquo;s

-pockets, hesitated for a moment, and stopped

-right there. He turned to face Jones.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;They&rsquo;re clean,&rdquo; he said.</p>

-<p>Jones nodded, not paying too much attention

-to Bull or to the search. &ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t think that they

-would have had the foresight to bring any

-weapons. Still&mdash;there&rsquo;s no sense taking any

-chances. In this business, one can&rsquo;t be too careful.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Noticing that Jones was not looking directly

-at either Bull or themselves as he said all this,

-Sandy followed his gaze to the upper decks of the

-freighter, wondering what he <i>was</i> looking for. A

-door swung open and a man stepped out into

-the late afternoon sunshine. Jones rose, waved to

-the man and called, &ldquo;Captain! Come down! We

-have a little surprise for you!&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_116">116</div>

-<p>Sandy had not known what to expect of the

-captain of such a ship as this, but surely, the man

-who came down the ladder did not look in the

-least like anything he might have imagined! He

-would not have been really surprised by a bearded

-giant, or another tough, such as one of the crew,

-or even, perhaps, by a turbaned oriental&mdash;but this

-captain was surely a complete surprise!</p>

-<p>He was a thin, wispy-looking old man&mdash;how

-old, Sandy could not begin to guess&mdash;with a face

-like a wise preacher&rsquo;s or perhaps a college professor&rsquo;s.

-He was dressed entirely in white, down to

-his old-fashioned white high-buttoned shoes, and

-he carried a bamboo cane with a gold head. To

-finish off this spotless outfit, so out of keeping

-with his ship, the Captain wore a pith helmet,

-such as British officers wear in the tropics!</p>

-<p>The old man moved briskly down the steep

-ladder from the upper decks and, with scarcely a

-glance at the boys, addressed himself to Jones.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Who are these children?&rdquo; he asked, his voice

-thin and reedy, but carrying authority and as

-sharp as the crack of a whip.</p>

-<p>As Jones explained the presence of the boys on

-board the freighter, the Captain looked from them

-to Jones and back again. When Jones told him

-how Bull and Turk had mistaken Sandy&rsquo;s sloop

-for his own, the Captain shifted his gaze to the two

-sailors, who almost winced under his cutting stare

-of scorn. Then, when the tale was done, he devoted

-his attention exclusively to Jones once more.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;What do you want to do about it?&rdquo; he asked.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_117">117</div>

-<p>&ldquo;I leave that entirely up to you,&rdquo; Jones said. &ldquo;I

-want no part of any violence&mdash;if it can be avoided.

-Besides, you will have them on your hands, and

-I&rsquo;ll be ashore, so that it&rsquo;s hardly my place to dictate

-the conditions of their&mdash;er&mdash;disposal.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Jones rose, leaning casually on his rifle as if it

-were a walking stick. &ldquo;Whatever you want to do

-is all right with me. Just get rid of them, that&rsquo;s

-all. And do it in a way that won&rsquo;t attract any

-suspicions ashore. I don&rsquo;t want anyone poking

-around the island asking questions about them.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>The Captain thought for a minute, then

-answered, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think we&rsquo;ll have anyone poking

-around the island. Not if we handle this thing

-right. They must not, you see, simply disappear.

-If they just drop out of sight without a trace, it

-will surely bring on a search, and someone may

-have seen them near your place. No, that won&rsquo;t

-do. On the contrary, they must be found. But they

-must be found in such a condition that they can

-answer no questions&mdash;ever. And it must look

-natural.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Perfect logic,&rdquo; Jones said. &ldquo;I agree completely.

-But how are you going to manage it?&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_118">118</div>

-<p>&ldquo;We will keep them aboard,&rdquo; the Captain

-answered, &ldquo;locked up below. I will tow their

-sloop after us. When we are a satisfactory distance

-from shore&mdash;say a thousand miles&mdash;we will put

-them into their boat and cut them loose.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;But,&rdquo; Jones protested, &ldquo;isn&rsquo;t there a chance

-that they could make it in to shore somewhere?

-Men have managed rougher trips than that in the

-past.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t worry about details,&rdquo; the Captain said in

-his quiet, scholarly voice. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll take care of everything.

-First, we will drop them far out of any

-regular shipping lanes. In addition, we will first

-wreck their sails, their mast and their rigging as

-if it had been done by a storm. When they are

-finally found, it will be too late to do anything

-about them. It will just look as if a storm had

-wrecked them and blown them out to sea. It&rsquo;s a

-tidy way to operate&mdash;no messy violence&mdash;and

-there will be no clues to lead to your precious

-island.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Jones considered for a minute before answering.

-&ldquo;It sounds all right to me, if you say so. After all,

-you know your end of the business better than I

-do.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Indeed I do,&rdquo; the Captain answered calmly.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; Jones said briskly, dismissing the matter

-of the boys from his mind, &ldquo;we have my other

-cargo to discuss before our dealings are finished

-for this trip.&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_119">119</div>

-<p>The Captain held up a thin, white hand to stop

-Jones. &ldquo;Not now,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Our business can wait

-until we have refreshed ourselves and had a bit

-of dinner. Then when it is dark, you can turn

-over your cargo&mdash;if the terms are satisfactory&mdash;and

-sail home unobserved.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>He waved his stick at the boys and motioned

-to two of his crew members. &ldquo;Take them below

-and lock them in an empty cabin. And set a close

-watch on them.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>As Sandy and Jerry were led off by the two crewmen,

-they saw the Captain precede Jones to the

-foot of the deckhouse ladder. He paused and

-bowed, indicating that Jones should go first.

-Somehow, the courtly, old-fashioned gesture

-seemed to Sandy more sinister than anything else

-he had seen since the start of this day.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_120">120</div>

-<h2 id="c11"><span class="small">CHAPTER ELEVEN</span>

-<br />Escape to Danger</h2>

-<p>Stepping over the high sill of the door that led

-from the deck to the passageway, Sandy and Jerry

-were plunged at once into gloom and near-darkness.

-The throb of the freighter&rsquo;s engines, barely

-noticeable on deck, became a roar, and the passage

-was thick with the smells and heat from the engine

-room below.</p>

-<p>They were pushed and shoved along the

-passage, past a number of doors which Sandy presumed

-were the crew&rsquo;s quarters. On the other side

-of the passage, an occasional door opened onto

-the engine room, a great cavern of heat and noise,

-brightly illuminated by lights on all sides, and

-crisscrossed by catwalks and ladders.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_121">121</div>

-<p>Without a word, their guides stopped before a

-door opposite the main opening to the engine

-room. One of them produced a large key ring and,

-after a moment&rsquo;s searching for the right key, unlocked

-the door.</p>

-<p>Motioning them to enter, the guard stood aside

-as Sandy and Jerry stepped into the gloom of a

-small cabin. Then the door slammed behind

-them, the key clicked in the lock, and they were

-alone. Through the ventilating slits cut in the

-top and bottom of the door, they heard one of

-their captors.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;You take the first watch while I go for chow.

-I&rsquo;ll bring the kids something to eat when I come

-back, then you can get yours.&rdquo; The other said

-something in agreement, and the speaker&rsquo;s footsteps

-in the passageway were soon drowned out in

-the roar of the engines.</p>

-<p>Sinking to a seat on the bare springs of a bunk

-with no mattress, Jerry looked up at Sandy and

-asked, &ldquo;What now?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; Sandy admitted. &ldquo;But at least

-we got away with the flare gun, and we may figure

-out a way to use it.&rdquo; He lowered himself to the

-bare bunk opposite the one Jerry occupied, and

-surveyed their floating prison.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_122">122</div>

-<p>The cabin offered very little promise of help.

-There were the two double bunks, both bare of

-mattresses, four lockers, a sink in one corner and

-a single porthole. Going to the porthole, Sandy

-tried to open it, but with no success. The &ldquo;dogs&rdquo;

-that secured it, heavy steel latches, were welded

-in place, and the glass of the porthole looked too

-heavy to break. Obviously, the place had been

-used as a prison before. Outside of the porthole,

-there was nothing but the sea. Even if the glass

-could be broken, Sandy didn&rsquo;t like the idea of

-dropping down into the black waters below. That

-seemed as unpromising a position as the one they

-were in now!</p>

-<p>The lockers were the next subject of their exploration

-but, as they expected, these proved as

-empty and bare as the cabin itself. The sink, the

-only remaining thing in the room, was the source

-of no inspiration.</p>

-<p>Settling himself on the bunk once more, Sandy

-began to roll up his pants leg. &ldquo;I guess this flare

-gun is our only hope at that,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;We might

-as well have it ready.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>He quickly undid the adhesive tape, then stuck

-the gun in his belt. As he did so, an idea came to

-him.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Jerry, I think I have it!&rdquo; he whispered.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_123">123</div>

-<p>The plan was a simple one&mdash;almost too simple

-to work. But it seemed the only chance they had.

-Sandy proposed to wait until the guard came with

-their food, then, threatening him with the flare

-pistol, they would try to overcome him, tie him

-up, and make their way to the deck. Once there,

-they would have to find a way out. It seemed a

-slim hope, but what else could they do?</p>

-<p>Jerry agreed, and whispering quietly, they

-worked out the best positions to take to make their

-attack good. Meanwhile, one more stroke of good

-fortune came to them. Jerry found that he still

-had the roll of adhesive tape in his pocket, undiscovered

-in Bull&rsquo;s quick inspection. It would

-come in handy for binding and gagging the

-guards, if they could once overcome them.</p>

-<p>Now there was nothing to do but wait. Through

-the porthole, they could see the sky growing dark,

-and the gathering gloom in the cabin raised their

-spirits. It was one more bit of aid that might fool

-their jailer into thinking the flare gun was a real

-weapon. The last glow of day was dying on the

-horizon when they once more heard voices in the

-passageway.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_124">124</div>

-<p>Jerry took his position by the door while Sandy

-readied the flare gun, then sat on one of the bunks.

-The door swung open and their guards entered,

-the lead man carrying a tray and his companion

-behind him.</p>

-<p>As they stepped over the sill, Sandy stood up

-suddenly, upsetting the tray. Hot coffee spilled

-over the lead man, who stepped backward with a

-cry. As he did so, Jerry, from his position behind

-the door, reached out and knocked the second

-man to the deck. At the same moment, Sandy

-raised his flare gun and aimed.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;All right,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I have you covered!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Do what he says,&rdquo; one of the sailors said. &ldquo;Do

-you see that gun? It&rsquo;s a flare!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Sandy was startled. If they knew it was not a

-real pistol, why didn&rsquo;t they charge him? Why

-were they cowering away? Then he realized for

-the first time that the flare pistol, used as a weapon,

-must be an awful thing. Anything that could send

-a stream of flame hundreds of feet into the air

-could surely inflict a terrible wound when used

-against a man. He shuddered, knowing he could

-never use it in this way. But as long as the sailors

-didn&rsquo;t know it....</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_125">125</div>

-<p>It was short work to silence the men with adhesive-tape

-gags, and to tape their hands firmly

-behind their backs. When this was done, the boys

-pushed the sailors into the lockers, taped their

-ankles together, and shut them in. The locker

-doors secured firmly with a latch. Leaving the

-cabin silently, Sandy and Jerry locked its door

-behind them. That certainly took care of two of

-their captors. Now, if the rest would just prove

-this easy!</p>

-<p>As they stepped away from the door, Sandy

-whispered, &ldquo;Let&rsquo;s get out of this passage fast.

-There are too many doors here, and one might

-pop open at any minute!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>They swiftly moved down the length of the

-passage until they reached the bulkhead door.

-Outside, the deck was dark, with the complete

-blackness of a night at sea, pierced only by the

-shaft of light that came from the passage. Moving

-now as quickly as they could, they slipped out

-onto the deck, and stepped back out of the light.

-Their shadows had been outlined boldly against

-the passage light for only a second. They crouched

-in the darkness and waited to be sure they had

-not been observed. So far, so good.</p>

-<p>Now that they had gotten this far, Sandy realized,

-their problems were just beginning. How

-were they to get off the ship? And how could they

-prevent being followed?</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_126">126</div>

-<p>&ldquo;Jerry,&rdquo; he whispered, &ldquo;we&rsquo;ve got to see to it

-that we get away from here in the fastest boat

-they have! I wonder if there&rsquo;s a power boat

-around?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;There has to be,&rdquo; Jerry answered. &ldquo;Every ship

-carries lifeboats, and one of them always has power

-so it can be used as a captain&rsquo;s launch when

-necessary.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Well, let&rsquo;s find it!&rdquo; Sandy whispered.</p>

-<p>Gazing over the side, they could see no boat

-tied up at all. They had to work their way to the

-other side of the freighter, without once more

-crossing the telltale path of light from the passageway.

-To do this, they had to work their way

-forward to the bow, and then around to the other

-side of the ship. Slowly, with as much care as they

-could muster, they dropped to their knees and

-began to crawl.</p>

-<p>They reached the forepeak with no trouble,

-except the minor difficulties of crawling over the

-mess of rope and ship&rsquo;s gear scattered around the

-disordered deck. As they started back, though,

-two dark forms appeared in the light of the

-passage!</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_127">127</div>

-<p>&ldquo;Down!&rdquo; Sandy whispered, and he and Jerry

-dropped flat on the deck behind the protection of

-the windlass. Peering around the corner of the

-huge machine, with its coil of giant anchor chain,

-they watched the figures come nearer. Halfway

-between them and the deckhouse, the shadows

-stopped, leaning against the bulwark, and lit

-cigarettes.</p>

-<p>In the brief flare of the match, the boys recognized

-the grim face of Turk. The other man

-with him was a sailor they had seen on deck with

-the rest of the crew when they had been taken

-aboard the freighter. He spoke in a thin, flat,

-whining voice, with a trace of a foreign accent

-that might have had its origin in any country in

-the world, but which by now was simply international.

-The first words the boys could make

-out came from Turk.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;This waiting is getting on my nerves,&rdquo; he

-rumbled. &ldquo;What&rsquo;s keeping us from shoving off?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s the big businessmen up there,&rdquo; the sailor

-whined, jerking his thumb toward the Captain&rsquo;s

-quarters. &ldquo;Jones wants more for the phony dough

-than he got last time, and the Skipper wants to

-give him less. The Skipper says he rates a break in

-the price for getting rid of those kids for Jones.

-Jones says he&rsquo;s taking as much risk as the Skipper.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;And how about us?&rdquo; Turk asked. &ldquo;Ain&rsquo;t we

-in this as much as them? Where&rsquo;s the payoff for

-us?&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_128">128</div>

-<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know about you,&rdquo; the sailor answered.

-&ldquo;But the Skipper never let <i>us</i> down yet. He says

-he&rsquo;s gotta have better terms so&rsquo;s to pay us a bonus.

-And we&rsquo;ll get it,&rdquo; he continued, his voice taking

-on a mean, determined tone. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ll get it, or

-else!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Sandy and Jerry, scarcely daring to breathe, lay

-still in the shadow of the windlass, listening to

-this exchange. At each word, the black freighter

-seemed less and less like a place where they wanted

-to stay. Something had to be done, and fast! As

-each moment wore on, Jones and the Captain were

-coming closer to an agreement, and when that

-agreement was reached, the ship would sail. And

-if it sailed with them still aboard, Sandy thought,

-their chance of escape would slim down almost to

-the vanishing point!</p>

-<p>For a few minutes, Turk and his friend stood

-silently at the rail and smoked their cigarettes.

-The stillness of the scene was marked only by the

-glow of coals against the black sea and sky. Then

-one of the cigarettes made an arch through the

-night as it was flipped over the side. The figures

-straightened.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_129">129</div>

-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m going back up there,&rdquo; Turk announced,

-&ldquo;and see if I can get any better idea what&rsquo;s going

-on. I&rsquo;ll listen at the porthole, and you stay back

-on the boat deck and cover for me. If anyone

-comes along, start to whistle.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>The two dark figures walked back to the deckhouse

-and disappeared for a moment in the

-shadows. A few minutes later, Sandy saw their

-forms outlined briefly against the light from a

-porthole on the boat deck; then they passed once

-more from sight.</p>

-<p>Turning to Jerry, Sandy whispered, &ldquo;We&rsquo;d

-better get going! If they wind up that business

-talk before we&rsquo;re out of here, I don&rsquo;t give us much

-of a chance!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Once more, they crept in the shadows, moving

-with painful care over the tangled equipment that

-seemed to cover the decks everywhere. At last,

-reaching the ladder from the main deck to the

-boat deck, they paused and took stock. Above

-them, showing only as a dark shape against the

-dark sky, loomed the bow of the nearest of the

-freighter&rsquo;s four lifeboats. Slowly, and with the

-greatest of care, they slipped up the ladder until

-Sandy&rsquo;s head was at a level with the deck above.

-He waited and watched to be sure the deck was

-uninhabited. When he was reasonably certain, he

-moved ahead, slower now than before, and slid

-his body up onto the deck. Jerry followed suit,

-and soon the two, pulling themselves forward on

-the deck by the flats of their hands and the toes

-of their sneakers, were sheltered by a life-jacket

-box below the lifeboat.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_130">130</div>

-<p>Turning over, Sandy scanned the bottom of the

-lifeboat, until, with a sigh of relief, he saw what

-he was hoping to see&mdash;the screw of a power boat

-protruding from the stern. This was the object of

-their search!</p>

-<p>As he pointed excitedly to the screw, Jerry

-whispered with puzzlement, &ldquo;Now that we&rsquo;ve

-found their power gig, what are we going to do

-with it? It takes four men to launch these things,

-and even if we could launch it, it would make

-such a noise that we&rsquo;d have the whole crew on our

-necks before it ever hit the water!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t figure on launching it,&rdquo; Sandy said.

-&ldquo;What I want to do is fix it so they won&rsquo;t be able

-to follow us in it when we make our getaway on

-the sloop!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Smart thinking!&rdquo; Jerry whispered. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s

-very little danger that they can chase us with the

-freighter itself. In the first place, by the time they

-could turn it around, we&rsquo;d be out of sight. And

-if they don&rsquo;t catch up with us out here, they won&rsquo;t

-dare come too near the harbor. The water there

-isn&rsquo;t deep enough for a ship this size and it would

-be too risky for them. But <i>I</i> don&rsquo;t know too much

-about engines. How are you going to disable this one?&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_131">131</div>

-<p>&ldquo;I know a few ways,&rdquo; Sandy answered, &ldquo;and I&rsquo;m

-going to use them all! If I just put one thing out

-of order, they might fix it right away. But, with

-the mess I&rsquo;m going to make of that engine, it&rsquo;ll

-take them a half hour or better to get it going.

-And by then, I hope, we&rsquo;ll have sailed out of

-sight!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Working with the greatest of care, the boys unlaced

-the canvas cover on the outboard side of the

-lifeboat. Standing on the rail of the ship, Sandy

-swung up and slid in beneath the cover, into a

-pitch-blackness that made the night outside seem

-bright in comparison.</p>

-<p>As Jerry joined Sandy, his added weight made

-the lifeboat lurch to one side, and brought a creak

-from the davits in which the boat was hung. To

-the boys under the canvas, it sounded as loud as a

-scream! Motionless in the dark, they waited for

-the thud of running feet, the tearing back of the

-boat cover, the glare of flashlights&mdash;but none

-came. The only answer to the noise was a thin,

-tuneless whistle from the deck above them. It was

-Turk&rsquo;s fellow sailor, keeping watch for his spying

-friend, and he was as afraid of passing noises as the

-boys were!</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_132">132</div>

-<p>Not daring to move, Sandy and Jerry waited

-for what seemed hours until the slight swaying of

-the lifeboat stopped. As cautiously as they could,

-so as not to start it moving again, they changed

-their positions in such a way as to balance the boat

-better. At last they were stationed one on each

-side of what Sandy could only hope was the engine

-compartment.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;How can you work in the dark?&rdquo; Jerry

-whispered. &ldquo;How will you know what&rsquo;s what in

-there?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;It shouldn&rsquo;t be too hard,&rdquo; Sandy replied.

-&ldquo;Almost all engines have a lot in common. If I

-can just get my hands on the engine, I think I&rsquo;ll

-know what to do.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Working only by touch, it was not easy to find

-out how the lid to the engine compartment was

-removed. Slowly moving his hands around the

-surfaces of the box, Sandy found two hook-eyes,

-which he carefully unfastened. On the opposite

-side of the box, he found two more, which he also

-undid.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;re in luck,&rdquo; he whispered to Jerry. &ldquo;If

-this had been a hinged top, I don&rsquo;t think we could

-have opened it. There isn&rsquo;t enough headroom

-below this canvas to raise a boxtop this size.&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_133">133</div>

-<p>With the greatest of care, making only the

-smallest of scraping noises, they removed the

-heavy lid and placed it across two of the lifeboat&rsquo;s

-seats.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m ready,&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to be

-handing you some parts, Jerry. I want you to put

-them in your shirt. We can&rsquo;t leave them in here,

-and if we threw them overboard, the splash

-would surely be heard. Just be sure they don&rsquo;t

-clank around!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Working noiselessly, Sandy ran his hands over

-the engine, starting from the top of the block. He

-touched and counted the spark plugs&mdash;four of

-them. His own experience with assorted jalopies

-would come in handy here, he thought. Carefully,

-he slipped the wires off the tops of the spark

-plugs. Following the wires to their source, he

-came to the distributor cap. Two clips held it in

-place. These were easily removed. Following the

-wire that came from the center of the distributor

-cap, he came to its end at the spark coil. A small

-pull removed it. Then he handed the whole thing,

-which felt like a mechanical octopus, to Jerry,

-who slipped it into his shirt.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_134">134</div>

-<p>A little more probing brought out two more

-parts from the distributor, both quite small. One

-was the rotor, the other the condenser. &ldquo;With any

-one of these things gone,&rdquo; Sandy whispered, &ldquo;they

-won&rsquo;t be able to run this boat!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Great!&rdquo; Jerry breathed. &ldquo;Now let&rsquo;s get going!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Not yet,&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;We still have some

-more to do. I don&rsquo;t want to make it too easy for

-them!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>The next thing to go was the fuel pump, as

-Sandy unscrewed from it the glass bowl through

-which the gasoline had to pass. This was followed

-by a small collection of springs from the choke,

-the accelerator and the carburetor.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I think that ought to do it,&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;Now

-let&rsquo;s put this engine lid back on, so they can&rsquo;t tell

-right away that somebody&rsquo;s been in here!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>It took even more care to replace the lid than it

-had to take it off. It was a tight fit, and really

-needed a blow on the top to make it fit properly

-on the casing, but this could not be done without

-making far too much noise. Finally, they decided

-to leave it unhooked, rather than run the risk of

-giving away their presence in the lifeboat.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_135">135</div>

-<p>Getting out and dropping soundlessly to the

-deck was not easy either, especially for Jerry, with

-the hardware stored in his bulging shirt front.

-Sandy, who had gone first, helped him down, and

-Jerry landed beside him with a muted clinking of

-metal and hard plastic. The slight noise brought

-no warning whistle from Turk&rsquo;s lookout.</p>

-<p>A glance at the deck below showed them why.

-Their eyes, grown accustomed to complete darkness,

-were now able to see quite clearly about the

-freighter&rsquo;s deck. Up forward, near where they had

-hidden below the windlass, stood Jones and the

-white-uniformed little Captain, together with

-Turk, Bull, and several other sailors.</p>

-<p>Apparently the business talk was concluded and,

-much more to the boys&rsquo; concern, the freighter was

-making ready to hoist anchor and set off for ports

-unknown!</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_136">136</div>

-<h2 id="c12"><span class="small">CHAPTER TWELVE</span>

-<br />The Race Begins</h2>

-<p>Even as they watched, a working light mounted

-on the foremast suddenly flooded the foredeck

-with brilliance, bringing the shadowy figures into

-sharp focus, like actors on a brightly lighted stage.</p>

-<p>Instinctively, Sandy and Jerry shrank back into

-the shadow of the life-jacket box, until Sandy

-realized that the bright light on the foredeck

-would make the rest of the ship almost invisible

-to people in its rays.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_137">137</div>

-<p>For a few seconds or more, the boys watched the

-tableau below them until several of the sailors

-ambled over to the windlass. Then Jerry said,

-&ldquo;They&rsquo;re getting ready to hoist the anchor now.

-We have to move fast if we&rsquo;re going to get to our

-boat before Jones gets to his!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Still exercising the greatest care, they re-laced

-the canvas where they had entered the lifeboat,

-then quietly crept alongside the rails under the

-lifeboats until they came to the ladder connecting

-the boat deck to the afterdeck.</p>

-<p>This, fortunately, was both deserted and unlighted,

-the deck crew having all gone forward to

-work on the windlass. The boys made their way

-down to the point where they had come on board

-via the rope ladder, which was still slung over the

-side, waiting for Jones&rsquo;s departure.</p>

-<p>Looking over the bulwark, they saw the two

-sloops below them, bobbing gently in the swell

-that washed against the sheer side of the tall

-freighter. They looked almost unbelievably peaceful,

-and Sandy thought once again about Jones&rsquo;s

-comments about the unsuspicious looks of sailing

-craft. Next to their trim, small shapes, the

-freighter looked every bit as sinister as it had

-actually proved to be!</p>

-<p>&ldquo;This is it,&rdquo; Sandy whispered. &ldquo;Let&rsquo;s make it

-fast!&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_138">138</div>

-<p>He stepped over the bulwark and disappeared

-down the rope ladder. Jerry was as close behind

-him as he could get without running the risk

-of stepping on Sandy&rsquo;s hands. A moment more

-brought them to the deck of the sloop.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Now comes the hard part,&rdquo; Jerry whispered.

-&ldquo;We&rsquo;ve got to get our sails up and shove off without

-anyone seeing or hearing us&mdash;and it&rsquo;s not

-exactly a quiet job. In fact, if I remember right,

-our slides squeak pretty badly in their track. I

-noticed it when we first took it out, and made a

-mental note to oil the track as soon as we got some

-time.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Maybe we&rsquo;d better not risk it,&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;Is

-there some way we can get away from here without

-having to hoist the sails right away?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Well ...&rdquo; Jerry said, &ldquo;if there were enough

-current, we could drift off, but I don&rsquo;t think there

-is. Besides, it would take a long time, and I don&rsquo;t

-think we&rsquo;ve got too much time to waste right

-now.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Suppose we tow it off behind the dinghy?&rdquo;

-Sandy asked. &ldquo;You know, the way we brought it

-out of the harbor for the first day&rsquo;s sail.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Good!&rdquo; Jerry exclaimed. But it only took a

-moment&rsquo;s search to assure them that the dinghy

-was not with them. &ldquo;Jones must have left it tied to

-his mooring,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;That puts us back

-where we started.&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_139">139</div>

-<p>&ldquo;I guess there&rsquo;s nothing to do but try it with

-our sails,&rdquo; Sandy said. As he started to move

-forward, Jerry stopped him with a hand on his

-shoulder.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Wait a minute! I think I know a way to do

-this! I remember I was once taught about sculling

-with the rudder. You use it like an oar. I&rsquo;ve never

-had to try it, but this is probably the best time.

-C&rsquo;mon! Let&rsquo;s cast off those lines!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Working swiftly, Sandy cast off the bow line

-while Jerry did the same with the line at the stern.

-Then both of them pushed off from the side of

-the freighter, and the little sloop drifted noiselessly

-away from the scarred steel cliff of the huge

-hull.</p>

-<p>The bright light from the foredeck spilled on

-the waters around the bow of the ship, and seemed

-even to light up the sloop. Sandy only hoped that

-whoever was standing lookout on the freighter

-was within that circle of light. If he was in the

-darkness of the upper decks, even the few dim

-beams that reflected from the white hull of the

-little sailboat would shine out like a warning

-beacon against the dark waters!</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_140">140</div>

-<p>Sandy worked his way aft over the cabin roof,

-and dropped into the cockpit to join Jerry at the

-tiller. Jerry was carefully working the tiller backward

-and forward, making small gurgling sounds

-as the rudder swept through the water.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Here&rsquo;s the way it works,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m using

-the rudder like a single stern paddle. Lots of

-boats in the old days used to be run like that. If

-the paddle&rsquo;s properly shaped, it will do a good

-job of propelling a boat. They call a long stern

-oar a sweep, and it&rsquo;s good enough so that it&rsquo;s still

-used on heavy barges in lots of places around the

-world.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Won&rsquo;t it just push the stern around from one

-side to the other?&rdquo; Sandy asked.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Not if you do it carefully,&rdquo; Jerry replied.

-&ldquo;What I&rsquo;m doing is this: I ease the rudder to one

-side, slowly, so as not to row with it. Then I give

-it a strong pull toward me&mdash;like this&mdash;and then

-I shove it halfway back.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>As he spoke, he hauled on the rudder, and the

-stern of the sloop swung around a bit, but the return

-motion of the rudder stopped the swinging

-action and steadied the sloop on her course. Sandy

-saw small ripples form a wake behind the boat as

-some forward motion was gained. As Jerry repeated

-the gentling, pulling and returning of the

-rudder, the sloop gained a little more forward

-speed. Slowly, the rusted sides of the black

-freighter slid by them.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_141">141</div>

-<p>&ldquo;So far, so good,&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;If we keep this

-up, we&rsquo;ll be able to get away before we&rsquo;re spotted.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I hope so,&rdquo; Jerry agreed fervently, pulling

-strongly on his improvised sweep. By now the

-sloop was some thirty feet or more away from the

-freighter, and heading past the overhanging stern

-of the big ship. Suddenly, the stillness of the night

-was shattered by a roar and clank of machinery.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s the windlass!&rdquo; Jerry cried. &ldquo;They&rsquo;re

-getting ready to haul up the anchor! Jones must

-be ready to go over to his boat!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Even as he spoke, a flare of work lights came up

-over the freighter&rsquo;s afterdeck, clearly showing

-Jones and the Captain standing by the head of the

-rope ladder, flanked by Turk and Bull. The

-Captain and Jones were shaking hands, apparently

-having concluded a deal on the counterfeit cargo

-that pleased them both. Neither of them had as

-yet looked over the side to see that one of the

-sloops was missing.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;We can&rsquo;t chance this any more,&rdquo; Jerry said.

-&ldquo;We&rsquo;re bound to be discovered in another minute,

-when Jones starts over the ladder! Let&rsquo;s get those

-sails up now, and do the best we can!&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_142">142</div>

-<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re right,&rdquo; Sandy agreed, swiftly leaping

-atop the cabin roof to reach the main halyards.

-Taking a deep breath, he hauled. With a screech,

-the slides moved stiffly up the track, and the mainsail

-fluttered overhead.</p>

-<p>Moving quickly, Sandy grasped the jib halyard

-and hoisted it aloft while Jerry was fastening the

-main halyard to its cleat. The sloop began to make

-headway in the light breeze. Then, as Sandy

-joined his friend in the cockpit, the sloop sailed

-clear of the shadows that lay below the stern of

-the freighter, and into the circle of light that surrounded

-the afterdeck. At almost the same instant,

-a shout rang out from above them.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Look! It&rsquo;s the kids!&rdquo; It was Turk, who, seeing

-the sail like a luminous flag in the water, had

-sounded the alarm.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Get down!&rdquo; Sandy said, pulling Jerry to the

-deck of the cockpit. His action came not a minute

-too soon for a pistol shot rang out. It was followed

-by a volley of shots, as more of the freighter&rsquo;s crew

-got into the action, but the boys were unharmed,

-although two bullets had hit the cabin roof and

-one had plowed a furrow in the deck.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_143">143</div>

-<p>The shooting stopped after a few more stray

-shots were fired, the sloop having by now moved

-out of effective pistol range. Making the best headway

-they could in the light breeze, Sandy and

-Jerry looked back with satisfaction to see the

-freighter&rsquo;s crew working feverishly at the davits

-to get the ship&rsquo;s power gig into the water.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;If we can just get enough lead time,&rdquo; Jerry

-said fervently, &ldquo;we&rsquo;ll make it to shore well ahead

-of them!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;What if Jones follows in his boat?&rdquo; Sandy

-asked.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll worry about that if he does,&rdquo; Jerry

-answered. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s a good sailor, but we have a lead

-on him. It&rsquo;ll be our first race, if it happens, and I

-sure hope we win!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>By now the power gig was hanging over the

-side, its davits having been swung into launching

-position. The canvas cover had been removed,

-and several sailors clambered in, waiting for the

-boat to be lowered. With a creak of blocks and

-tackle, the lifeboat was swiftly dropped to the

-water. The boys could see someone bending over

-the engine compartment, trying to get the boat

-started.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Jones&rsquo;ll have a long wait, if he wants to go after

-us in that!&rdquo; Sandy chuckled. &ldquo;That ship is so

-sloppy, I&rsquo;ll bet it will take them an hour just to

-find the parts they need, once they discover what&rsquo;s

-wrong!&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_144">144</div>

-<p>But apparently Jones wasn&rsquo;t going to wait. He

-had sized up the situation quickly&mdash;too quickly&mdash;and

-was going over the side and down the rope

-ladder to the other sloop!</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Oh-oh!&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s going to try to catch

-us in the other sloop! And we haven&rsquo;t got more

-than a few hundred yards on him yet. This is going

-to be some race!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Some race! Sandy realized once again how different

-the meaning of speed is to a sailor and to a

-landsman. Here they were, in a gentle breeze on

-a calm sea, preparing to race for their very lives&mdash;and

-they would probably not sail faster than he

-could walk!</p>

-<p>Consulting the stars, Jerry set a downwind

-course, and the boat headed slowly but steadily

-toward the mainland.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;d do better on some other point of sail,&rdquo;

-Jerry said, &ldquo;but there&rsquo;s one consolation.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s that?&rdquo; Sandy asked.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;s got to sail on the same course we take, so

-he can&rsquo;t take advantage of any more favorable wind

-than the one we get. That, and the fact that the

-boats are the same, at least puts us on an even

-footing.&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_145">145</div>

-<p>By now, Jones and a crew member were in the

-sloop, and were getting the sails up. Sandy

-watched as the mainsail caught the light from the

-freighter, followed almost immediately by the jib.

-The sloop swung about into the trail of light that

-danced on the water between them and the big

-ship, and set her sails for a downwind tack.</p>

-<p>Small waves whispered softly at the bow, and

-bubbles gurgled quietly in the wake. The mainsheet

-hardly pulled at all in Sandy&rsquo;s hand as the

-sail caught all the wind there was to catch. Hardly

-seeming to move at all, the sloop glided slowly

-ahead in the soft night breeze.</p>

-<p>And the toughest race they would ever sail was

-under way!</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_146">146</div>

-<h2 id="c13"><span class="small">CHAPTER THIRTEEN</span>

-<br />A Race of Mistaken Identity</h2>

-<p>&ldquo;Trim your main!&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;Haul back a

-little ... more ... no, let it out a shade ...

-that&rsquo;s it! Cleat it down there!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Sandy followed Jerry&rsquo;s directions carefully,

-hauling at the sheet to get the sail set to its best

-position. Like the airplane wing it resembles, the

-sail must be perfectly shaped to get the maximum

-advantage of the wind. Sandy had learned that this

-was true even on a downwind run, where a sail

-let out too far will spill wind, and a sail sheeted

-in too close will miss too much wind.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_147">147</div>

-<p>Rejoining Jerry on the cockpit seat, Sandy

-looked aft to catch sight of their pursuer. He was

-surprised to see the amount of water that now

-separated them from the freighter, which seemed

-a spot of bright light far behind them. Against

-the light he could see the silhouetted shape of

-Jones&rsquo;s sloop. It seemed to him that they were

-closer than before, and he motioned Jerry to turn

-and look.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re right,&rdquo; Jerry said, guessing at the

-question that had formed in Sandy&rsquo;s mind.

-&ldquo;They&rsquo;re closing in on us, all right. That Jones is

-sure some sailor! We&rsquo;ll have to do better than

-this if we&rsquo;re going to get ashore before they sail

-within pistol range!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;What can we do?&rdquo; Sandy asked, his brow

-wrinkling under the blond forelock that hung

-over his eyes.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;The only thing we can do is put on more sail,&rdquo;

-Jerry answered. &ldquo;That won&rsquo;t be an easy job with

-just the two of us. And you&rsquo;ve never handled a

-spinnaker.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;d better give me some fast instruction,&rdquo;

-Sandy breathed. &ldquo;First, what&rsquo;s the spinnaker?&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_148">148</div>

-<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a big oversized jib, cut like a parachute,&rdquo;

-Jerry replied. &ldquo;You saw a few out in the bay

-yesterday, remember? It&rsquo;s that big sail that flies

-out ahead of the boat. You can only use it on

-downwind sailing, unless you&rsquo;re a lot better sailor

-than I am, and it&rsquo;s the best pulling power you can

-have when the wind&rsquo;s at your back.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;What do I have to do to help you?&rdquo; Sandy

-asked.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll have to put it up myself,&rdquo; Jerry told him.

-&ldquo;Your job will be to hold a steady course and to

-keep the sails trimmed the way they are now.&rdquo;

-Sandy grinned. &ldquo;I won&rsquo;t look around to see how

-other boats look this time,&rdquo; he promised. Then he

-sobered. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll do my best to keep her sailing right.

-What&rsquo;ll you be doing?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll have to drop the jib, which will lose us

-some speed for a minute. Then I&rsquo;ll hoist the spinnaker,

-with a pole to the tack&mdash;that&rsquo;s the corner&mdash;to

-swing it outboard to where it will catch the

-wind. Then&mdash;but we can&rsquo;t waste time talking

-about it! I&rsquo;ll show you now and explain some

-other time!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Both boys took another look back, but by now

-the night had swallowed up Jones&rsquo;s sloop, and all

-they could see was the glow of the freighter, growing

-rapidly smaller and fainter behind them.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I wonder if Jones has seen that?&rdquo; Sandy said.

-&ldquo;The freighter must be under way. They haven&rsquo;t

-even waited for him, to see how things turn out!&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_149">149</div>

-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not surprised,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;If Jones catches

-us, they don&rsquo;t have anything to worry about. And

-if he doesn&rsquo;t ... they want to be a long way

-away from here!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Turning their attention back to their own

-problem, Jerry asked Sandy to go below to the

-cabin&rsquo;s sail locker and pull out the sail bags, but

-not to light even a match. The odds were that

-Jones still could not see them, and it was better

-to keep it that way.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;How will I know which is the spinnaker?&rdquo;

-Sandy asked.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;We only have two sails below,&rdquo; Jerry answered.

-&ldquo;We&rsquo;re flying the main and genoa jib now. That

-means that the only bags will have the working

-jib and the spinnaker. The working jib is the

-small bag, and the spinnaker will be as heavy as

-the mainsail.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>In the cabin of the sloop it was as dark as it had

-been under the cover of the lifeboat. Sandy groped

-about, searching for the sail locker, which was

-forward of the mast, in the peak of the boat. Finally,

-after tripping a few times, and once bumping

-his head badly, he felt his hands come in contact

-with the brass catch that secured the locker.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_150">150</div>

-<p>Inside were several sail bags, most of them

-empty. He came on one that contained a sail, but

-it was obviously the small working jib. Worried

-now, Sandy burrowed deeper into the locker, and

-at last found a bag that seemed heavier than the

-first. Relieved, he carried it out to the cockpit,

-where Jerry was anxiously looking aft.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Look! If you look just about four points off

-our stern, you can see her!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Sandy squinted to where Jerry had pointed,

-and made out a dim white shape through the darkness,

-surely no more than a few hundred yards

-behind them!</p>

-<p>&ldquo;They&rsquo;re closing in!&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;d better rig

-this thing as fast as I can!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>He took the sail bag from Sandy, and crawled

-forward over the cabin. Sandy anxiously handled

-the tiller, hoping that he was keeping the course.

-Overhead, a few dim stars made points of light,

-and he leaned back to line up the masthead with

-one of them. In his right hand, the mainsheet felt

-light&mdash;too light&mdash;and he worried that he had so

-little control over it. What if they were to jibe

-now, as they had on the first day&rsquo;s sail? What if the

-sails were not properly trimmed? And how could

-he be sure they were? How long would it take

-Jones to catch up with them? Taking his eyes for

-a minute from the star and the masthead, he saw

-Jerry kneeling on deck, doing something with the

-sail. Then he looked back to the masthead, and

-fixed all his attention on keeping the boat on a

-steady course.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_151">151</div>

-<p>Suddenly, Jerry was back in the cockpit with

-him, and the sail bag, still full, was dropped on

-the deck at his feet.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s wrong?&rdquo; he asked.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Sandy, was that the only heavy bag there was?&rdquo;

-Jerry asked.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s right. The only other bag was so light it

-must have been the jib. What&rsquo;s the matter?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Jerry shook his head slowly. &ldquo;We&rsquo;re in real

-trouble now,&rdquo; he answered. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s not a spinnaker

-at all. It&rsquo;s a spare genoa!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;But&mdash;but I saw the bag marked spinnaker the

-other day!&rdquo; Sandy spluttered. &ldquo;Why would Uncle

-Russ put a spare genoa in a bag marked for a

-spinnaker?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;He wouldn&rsquo;t,&rdquo; Jerry answered. &ldquo;And what&rsquo;s

-more, he didn&rsquo;t. I was able to make out the letters

-on the bag, and they said &lsquo;genoa.&rsquo; Brace yourself

-for a shock, buddy. I <i>know</i> we had a spinnaker

-aboard. And I know we didn&rsquo;t have two jennies!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Do you mean we&rsquo;ve done it again?&rdquo; Sandy

-gasped.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s right,&rdquo; Jerry said sadly. &ldquo;We goofed

-again, and took Jones&rsquo;s boat instead of yours!&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_152">152</div>

-<p>There was nothing to say. They turned in

-silence to look aft at the dim white shape that

-followed them through the night, and that slowly

-ate away at the distance that kept them apart.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_153">153</div>

-<h2 id="c14"><span class="small">CHAPTER FOURTEEN</span>

-<br />Slow-Motion Chase</h2>

-<p>&ldquo;What can we do now?&rdquo; Sandy asked.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Just what we&rsquo;re doing,&rdquo; Jerry answered mournfully.

-&ldquo;Just sail the best we can and hope that

-he won&rsquo;t close in on us before we come across some

-other boat.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Maybe Jones won&rsquo;t find our spinnaker,&rdquo; Sandy

-suggested. &ldquo;If he thinks he&rsquo;s on his own boat, he

-knows he hasn&rsquo;t got a spinnaker below, and maybe

-he won&rsquo;t see any reason to go poking around in

-our sail locker.&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_154">154</div>

-<p>&ldquo;I wouldn&rsquo;t bet on it,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;We can

-make a mistake like this&mdash;and make it twice&mdash;because

-neither of us is really familiar with your

-boat. But a good sailor like Jones knows his own

-boat the way he knows his own living room. He

-isn&rsquo;t going to be fooled the same way we were!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Still,&rdquo; Sandy reasoned, &ldquo;that&rsquo;s no guarantee

-he&rsquo;s going to go to our sail locker, is it?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s almost a sure bet,&rdquo; Jerry replied. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s

-probably got Turk looking around now to see

-what kind of extra canvas we might have on board,

-and when he finds that spinnaker, we can kiss our

-chances goodbye!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Well, he hasn&rsquo;t found it yet,&rdquo; Sandy said stubbornly.

-&ldquo;And until he does, there must be something

-we can do to get more speed out of this

-boat!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Stirring out of his gloom, Jerry trimmed the

-mainsheet and then the jib. Then suddenly he

-brightened. &ldquo;Say! I remember reading about one

-trick that might help us. It&rsquo;s called wing-and-winging.

-What you do is rig the jib on the opposite

-side from the mainsail when you&rsquo;ve got the wind

-at your back. It&rsquo;s supposed to act almost like a

-spinnaker.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Well, let&rsquo;s do it!&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;What do you

-want me to do?&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_155">155</div>

-<p>&ldquo;You just hold the course, like before,&rdquo; Jerry

-explained. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll go forward and re-rig. When I tell

-you to, you uncleat the jenny sheet, and I&rsquo;ll swing

-the sail around on the other side and brace it out.

-I&rsquo;ll use the boat hook for a whisker pole to hold it

-in place. Maybe this&rsquo;ll turn the trick!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>He clambered forward, and once more Sandy

-was left alone with the tiller, the star and the

-masthead. For a few minutes he thought only of

-holding the course, until he heard Jerry&rsquo;s voice,

-&ldquo;Now!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Leaning forward, Sandy uncleated the sheet

-which held the genoa jib in trim, where it had

-flown almost useless before the mainsail. He

-watched eagerly as Jerry hauled the sail around to

-the windward side, lashed the boat hook to the

-clew and swung the big triangle outboard. Almost

-instantly, the jenny started to fill, and Sandy felt

-the little sloop start forward.</p>

-<p>Jerry quickly leaped into the cockpit and

-secured the sheet, trimming the billowing sail.

-&ldquo;It&rsquo;s working!&rdquo; he panted. &ldquo;This may just turn

-the trick!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>They listened in satisfaction to the increased

-sound of the waves slipping past the sloop&rsquo;s sides

-and muttering in the wake. They could actually

-feel the difference in the motion of the boat.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_156">156</div>

-<p>&ldquo;Jones has probably had his jib winged out all

-this time,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s why he&rsquo;s been

-closing in on us so fast. Maybe this will keep the

-distance the way it is until we can get ashore or

-get help!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I sure hope so!&rdquo; Sandy agreed.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Just hope he doesn&rsquo;t find that spinnaker! As

-long as we&rsquo;re both flying the same sail area, and

-as long as we&rsquo;re both heading downwind, there&rsquo;s

-not much he can do to catch us. Running before

-the wind this way, equal boats with equal canvas

-flown in the same way will come out just about

-the same. It&rsquo;s on a reach, or beating against the

-wind that expert sail handling really makes the

-difference. And I&rsquo;m sure glad we&rsquo;re not on some

-other point of sail, because Jones would outsail

-us every time!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>With that thought to cheer them, the boys

-sailed in silence. Above them, clouds occasionally

-blotted out the stars of the dark moonless night,

-and it was hard to set a course by any one of them.

-At the helm, Jerry steered as much by the feel of

-the wind on his back as by the stars he could see.</p>

-<p>Behind them always, never drawing any nearer,

-but never falling astern, was the white blur of

-Jones&rsquo;s canvas. It was as if the two boats were tied

-together with a fixed length of cable or a rigid

-bar that would not allow the gap between them to

-change.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_157">157</div>

-<p>The race went slowly. It was like a chase in

-some fantastic dream, Sandy thought, a dream

-where he was running in slow motion, trying with

-every ounce of strength to make his legs go faster.</p>

-<p>But there was a difference, for here there was

-no exertion, no strain, except on the nerves. Here

-all was, to a casual glance, peaceful and pleasant.

-If any boat were to pass, all its passengers would

-see would be two pretty sloops, out for a night-time

-sail.</p>

-<p>Suppose another boat did come? How would

-they know? Then Sandy remembered the flare

-pistol. He had put it on the seat when they had

-come aboard! Maybe the bulky brass gun would

-come in handy again! He searched the night for

-some sign of a boat&rsquo;s running lights, but saw only

-the same black sea and sky on all sides. Still, perhaps

-nearer shore....</p>

-<p>The nightmarish quality of the race increased

-as each moment wore on. It seemed to Sandy that

-he was doomed to sail on forever, like the legendary

-Flying Dutchman, never getting to shore,

-never getting within hailing distance of another

-boat.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_158">158</div>

-<p>He strained his eyes against the darkness ahead,

-and then turned to look astern at the following

-shape of Jones&rsquo;s boat, stubbornly staying with

-them at the same fixed distance. He almost wished

-that Jones would in some way catch up, just to

-break the tension. Maybe in a fight, there would

-be a chance! At least, they wouldn&rsquo;t just be sitting

-and waiting.</p>

-<p>As he watched, something on the pursuing

-sloop seemed to change. A shimmer of white sails,

-then nothing.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Jerry!&rdquo; Sandy whispered, gripping his friend&rsquo;s

-arm. &ldquo;Look back there! I thought I saw something

-change in his sails. I couldn&rsquo;t tell for sure, but

-doesn&rsquo;t it seem to you that the shape is different

-now?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Jerry squinted back at Jones&rsquo;s boat. &ldquo;I think

-you&rsquo;re right,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;It looks as if he&rsquo;s changed

-his sail trim some way. I wonder what he&rsquo;s got up

-his sleeve this time?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Do you think he&rsquo;s found our spinnaker?&rdquo;

-Sandy asked.</p>

-<p>As if in answer, the white shape behind them

-altered once more. A new piece was added to it&mdash;a

-long, flapping shape. As they watched, fascinated

-and fearful, but unable to do a thing, the long

-white triangle billowed out, changed into a full,

-taut shape and lifted high above the deck of

-Jones&rsquo;s boat.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_159">159</div>

-<p>&ldquo;So that&rsquo;s a spinnaker,&rdquo; Sandy said.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;It sure is,&rdquo; Jerry answered grimly. &ldquo;Take a

-good look at it, because it may turn out to be the

-last one we&rsquo;ll ever see!&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_160">160</div>

-<h2 id="c15"><span class="small">CHAPTER FIFTEEN</span>

-<br />Turn and Turn Again</h2>

-<p>As Jones&rsquo;s spinnaker filled and lofted, a fresh

-breeze came up from astern, tugged at the rigging,

-tightened the sails and sent the boys&rsquo; sloop ahead

-at a sharper pace.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Feel the breeze!&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;Maybe that&rsquo;ll

-help us out of trouble!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I wouldn&rsquo;t bet on it,&rdquo; Jerry replied. &ldquo;The

-same breeze is helping Jones, and he&rsquo;s got an awful

-big sail up to catch it!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Even so, Jerry,&rdquo; Sandy objected, &ldquo;I seem to remember

-you saying something that ought to give

-us a chance now....&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_161">161</div>

-<p>&ldquo;If you do, you&rsquo;d better let me know,&rdquo; Jerry

-said, &ldquo;because I sure don&rsquo;t feel very full of ideas

-now.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Sandy wrinkled his brow and strained at his

-memory. There seemed to be some fact, some idea

-half remembered from all Jerry had told him, that

-ought to help. He looked astern, and the sight of

-Jones&rsquo;s sloop bearing down on them and swiftly

-closing the gap between the two racing boats,

-seemed to have just the stimulating effect he was

-looking for.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I know!&rdquo; he almost shouted. &ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t you say

-that we can do better on a reach than a boat with

-a spinnaker can do downwind?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s right,&rdquo; Jerry said doubtfully. &ldquo;But we

-have to sail a downwind course to get to shore.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Well, what&rsquo;s your hurry?&rdquo; Sandy asked. &ldquo;Why

-don&rsquo;t we put off going ashore just now? I mean, if

-we take off on a reach, maybe we can lose Jones in

-the dark before he can change sails to follow us. If

-we can just put some distance between us, we can

-head back for shore later!&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_162">162</div>

-<p>Jerry clapped Sandy on the shoulder and

-shouted, &ldquo;You&rsquo;re right!&rdquo; Then he looked back at

-Jones&rsquo;s boat, clear in shape, but not in detail. &ldquo;I

-wish I could see how he has his spinnaker sheeted,

-but I can&rsquo;t make it out. Still, let&rsquo;s just take a

-chance.&rdquo; He looked at Sandy in admiration. &ldquo;Boy,

-you&rsquo;re sure catching on fast! That was a real racing

-sailor&rsquo;s idea!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Carefully selecting the best course to give their

-boat the most speed and to lose the least time in

-putting about, Jerry instructed Sandy.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;re going to jibe,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;but don&rsquo;t worry.

-This is going to be deliberate, not accidental. It&rsquo;s

-the accidental jibes that wreck the rigging. We&rsquo;re

-going to put about this way so&rsquo;s not to waste time

-shifting the genoa jib to the other side. As soon

-as I&rsquo;ve got that whisker pole ready to come off,

-we&rsquo;ll do it.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>He went forward, and after a moment&rsquo;s work,

-quickly returned to the cockpit. &ldquo;Ready now,&rdquo;

-Jerry said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll take the tiller and you take the

-mainsheet. As I start to put about, you haul in on

-the sheet, until the boom is right over the keel

-of the boat. Then I&rsquo;ll put her hard over, and you

-let the sail out evenly on the other side until I say

-stop. Got it?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Sandy wasn&rsquo;t sure, but he figured that this was

-no time for more detailed instruction on the art

-of the deliberate jibe. Holding the mainsheet, and

-his breath, he silently hoped that he knew what

-he was doing. One mistake now&mdash;the wrong kind

-of jibe, that could wreck the rigging&mdash;would

-surely put them back in Jones&rsquo;s hands.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_163">163</div>

-<p>He watched Jerry carefully, and, following his

-instructions, started to haul in on the mainsheet.

-It came very lightly and easily. Remembering the

-terrific force of the jibe on the first day&rsquo;s sailing,

-though, Sandy knew enough not to be fooled by

-appearances. He shortened the sheet so that he

-would not be taken unawares when the wind

-caught the mainsail on its new tack.</p>

-<p>A few seconds of hauling and shortening

-brought the mainsail directly over the center of

-the boat, with the sheet securing it tightly against

-the dangerous sudden jibe. Then, as Jerry brought

-the sloop about hard on her new course, the wind

-took the sail. The boat heeled far over, leaning its

-lee side into the waves through which they were

-cutting with a new speed.</p>

-<p>Sandy held hard to the sheet, the pull of which

-was almost cutting his hand. The load of wind in

-the taut sail transmitted its strength to the sheet,

-and became a hauling, tug-of-war enemy.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Let her out!&rdquo; Jerry shouted. &ldquo;More! More!

-Okay ... hold her there!&rdquo; Sandy felt some of the

-pull lessen as he allowed the sail to swing farther

-out over the side. &ldquo;Good,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;Now

-take the tiller&mdash;hold everything as it is&mdash;while I

-free the jenny and trim it properly.&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_164">164</div>

-<p>Sandy, the mainsheet wound tightly about his

-right hand, took the tiller in his left, while Jerry

-went forward to do his job. He was burning with

-eagerness to look back to see how their maneuver

-had affected Jones, but he didn&rsquo;t dare. He had

-too much to think about to take his eyes away even

-for a second from his own work of sailing. This

-was the first time he had handled both the tiller

-and mainsheet and it was really the first time he

-had actually handled the boat. There was a new

-sense of command now and of real control. The

-feel of the boat was complete. It almost seemed

-alive. His hands told him how a change of rudder

-position worked a change on the sail, or how a

-shift of the mainsail, a few inches in or out, affected

-the pull on the helm.</p>

-<p>In a few minutes, Jerry was back in the cockpit,

-trimming the genoa sheet and setting the sail

-in its best shape ahead of and overlapping the

-mainsail. When all was made fast, he took the

-tiller from Sandy once more, and the boys were at

-last free to look back.</p>

-<p>What they saw was not encouraging. As they

-had expected, the change of course had increased

-the distance between them and Jones, but the

-distance was not great enough to take them out

-of sight. A few minutes of looking revealed that

-they were not likely to outdistance Jones on this

-tack any more than they had on the downwind

-run.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_165">165</div>

-<p>&ldquo;How come we can&rsquo;t beat him?&rdquo; Sandy asked.

-&ldquo;He surely hasn&rsquo;t had time to get his spinnaker

-down and his genoa up, has he?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;He didn&rsquo;t have to,&rdquo; Jerry answered. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s

-using his spinnaker now as if it were a genoa. It&rsquo;s a

-good stunt. What he did was to bring the spinnaker

-pole forward and lash it to the deck, so that

-it made a kind of bowsprit. Then he sheeted the

-sail flat. It makes a powerful sail that way.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;What if he wants to go on the opposite tack?&rdquo;

-Sandy asked. &ldquo;How can he put about?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Jerry grinned. &ldquo;I think you&rsquo;ve done it again,

-Skipper,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s the best question you&rsquo;ve

-asked all night!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; Sandy asked, puzzled.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I mean that he can&rsquo;t put about on the other

-tack without an awful lot of trouble. We can, and

-we will, and with luck we&rsquo;ll lose him that way!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>This time the maneuver was a familiar one of

-bringing the sloop up into the wind, shifting the

-genoa jib and coming off the wind to the new

-tack. It was performed smoothly, both boys working

-like an experienced crew.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_166">166</div>

-<p>On the new tack, they looked about once more

-for Jones&rsquo;s following sloop. As they had hoped,

-the strange zigzag they had described had left him

-far astern, but still in sight. Even as they watched,

-they saw Jones drop his spinnaker and re-rig it on

-the new tack. Once more, he was in pursuit!</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve never seen anyone handle sails that well,&rdquo;

-Jerry said in unwilling admiration.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Do you think we can outmaneuver him?&rdquo;

-Sandy asked.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Well, we might keep up the sort of thing we&rsquo;ve

-been doing,&rdquo; Jerry answered. &ldquo;If we keep changing

-tacks, we can probably keep him out of close

-shooting range all night. Then, by morning, we

-can hope to see some other boats and maybe get

-help. There&rsquo;s only one thing wrong with that

-plan, though.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I know,&rdquo; Sandy offered. &ldquo;We&rsquo;re all right as

-long as we don&rsquo;t make any mistakes. But the

-minute we goof on one maneuver, we lose the

-race! Right?&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_167">167</div>

-<p>&ldquo;Right,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;Still, I don&rsquo;t see what else

-we can do but try. We haven&rsquo;t got much choice.&rdquo;

-As they sailed on in silence, Sandy reviewed

-their situation. The trouble with their plan was

-a simple one. They had to do a perfect job of sailing,

-and he doubted whether they were up to it.

-All Jones had to do was follow their maneuvers,

-and when they made their first mistake, he would

-close in. There was no hope, he could see, in waiting

-for Jones to make the first mistake himself.

-The man was too good for that.</p>

-<p>If only they could find some new way to take the

-initiative, things might work out, Sandy thought.

-This cat-and-mouse game couldn&rsquo;t possibly do any

-good. Besides, even if they could hold out till day-light,

-there was no guarantee that they would get

-help from any other boat before Jones could finish

-the job. After all, lack of light was all that was preventing

-Jones from firing at them now. When

-morning came, it would most likely be accompanied

-by a hail of shots!</p>

-<p>The more Sandy thought, the less it seemed that

-they could find a way out of their desperate straits.

-Then his gloomy thoughts were interrupted by

-Jerry.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Got any more ideas?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;I know it&rsquo;s my

-turn to think up a good one, but I can&rsquo;t seem to

-come up with a thing.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; Sandy answered. &ldquo;It seems to

-me though, that we&rsquo;re going to have to do something

-really different now if we&rsquo;re going to get

-back to shore in one piece!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Then he suddenly sat up straighter, pushing

-back his blond forelock. &ldquo;Jerry! I think I have an

-idea!&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_168">168</div>

-<p>&ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; Jerry asked eagerly.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;It may sound crazy, but I want to go back on

-a downwind course again!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Jerry looked puzzled. &ldquo;A downwind course?

-Sandy, we don&rsquo;t have a chance that way! That&rsquo;s

-the way we were sailing when Jones first started

-after us, and with his spinnaker in place, he&rsquo;ll have

-us in no time!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I know,&rdquo; Sandy said, &ldquo;but I have an idea that

-might work this time. I want Jones to get close&mdash;real

-close&mdash;to try this!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Jerry shook his head. &ldquo;It sounds nutty to me,&rdquo;

-he said, &ldquo;but if you think you&rsquo;ve got something

-that&rsquo;ll work, I&rsquo;m game. Just tell me what....&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Not now, Jerry,&rdquo; Sandy cut him off. &ldquo;Let&rsquo;s just

-change course while I work out the details. If we

-don&rsquo;t do this now, I might lose my nerve!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll do it,&rdquo; Jerry agreed, shaking his head

-doubtfully from side to side. &ldquo;But what worries

-me isn&rsquo;t that you might lose your nerve. I&rsquo;m afraid

-that you&rsquo;ve already lost your mind!&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_169">169</div>

-<h2 id="c16"><span class="small">CHAPTER SIXTEEN</span>

-<br />The End of the Race</h2>

-<p>It was still pitch-dark on the Pacific, miles off

-Cliffport, but Sandy saw a dim, gray smear of light

-in the east that told him dawn was not too far off.

-Dawn&mdash;and the shots it would bring from Jones

-and Turk!</p>

-<p>If his plan didn&rsquo;t work now, it would never

-work, he knew. This was to be really a one-shot

-try! But better to try, he felt, than to tack aimlessly

-back and forth, waiting for Jones to close in.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_170">170</div>

-<p>Almost mechanically, Sandy helped Jerry put

-the sloop about on her new course before the

-wind. Once again the genoa jib was held out wing-and-wing

-with the boat hook, and once again the

-mainsheet exercised only a light pull in his hand.

-With everything set, Sandy and Jerry turned their

-attention to the sloop behind them.</p>

-<p>The pursuing white sails shone dimly through

-the darkness as Jones followed them in their

-course. His spinnaker, released from its duty as a

-genoa, was once more flying full and round before

-him, taking advantage of every puff of wind at his

-back. It was a foregone conclusion that he would

-catch them now, unless they were even faster than

-before in putting about on some new tack.</p>

-<p>Jerry could not stand the suspense a moment

-longer. &ldquo;Sandy, what are you going to do?&rdquo; he

-cried. &ldquo;Whatever it is, if we don&rsquo;t do it now,

-we&rsquo;re goners!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Not yet,&rdquo; Sandy muttered. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s got to get

-closer!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;If he gets any closer, he&rsquo;s going to start shooting,&rdquo;

-Jerry replied. &ldquo;What do we do then?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ve got to be ready for it,&rdquo; Sandy answered.

-&ldquo;I expect him to shoot, and I expect him to start

-pretty soon. In fact, we&rsquo;d better get down as far

-as possible right now!&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_171">171</div>

-<p>Both boys sat together on the cockpit deck, Jerry

-awkwardly steering and Sandy holding the mainsheet

-in his left hand. &ldquo;You steer, Jerry,&rdquo; he said.

-&ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to turn around so I can keep an eye

-on Jones. I expect the fireworks to start any

-minute now!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I can do without the entertainment,&rdquo; Jerry

-said. Then he added once more, &ldquo;Boy, I sure hope

-you know what you&rsquo;re doing! If you don&rsquo;t....&rdquo;

-His voice trailed off.</p>

-<p>Half kneeling, Sandy crouched by the stern seat,

-keeping as much under cover as possible. Over the

-edge of the afterdeck he saw Jones&rsquo;s sloop, closer

-now than it had been ever since their fantastic race

-had begun. For some reason, Jones was holding

-back, not closing in as fast as he had been before.

-Sandy knew that he must be puzzled, and trying

-to figure out what their next move would be. His

-success depended on outthinking them as much as

-it did on outsailing them, and his skill lay largely

-in his ability to guess what maneuver the boys

-were going to try next. This time, Sandy thought,

-he must really be baffled. No one in his right mind

-would try to escape as they were doing!</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_172">172</div>

-<p>For minutes that seemed like hours, the chase

-continued with Jones making no effort to advance.

-Then, Sandy realized, Jones made up his mind to

-attack. His sails were trimmed fuller, his spinnaker

-lofted higher, and a white bow wave broke

-out to signify Jones&rsquo;s new speed. There wasn&rsquo;t

-much time left now before things would start

-popping!</p>

-<p>By now, less than one hundred yards separated

-the two boats. Not much more distance, Sandy

-thought, than a target range. Still, it wasn&rsquo;t quite

-close enough....</p>

-<p>A shot! As they heard the crack of the pistol, the

-whine of the bullet passed overhead! Another shot&mdash;another&mdash;and

-a piece of the coaming splintered

-off uncomfortably close to Sandy&rsquo;s ear!</p>

-<p>Jones&rsquo;s boat surged on, preceded by a rain of

-shots. Now less than fifty yards of water were between

-them! More shots followed, mostly going

-through the sails. With a <i>thunk</i>, one hit the hull&mdash;another

-gouged up the deck&mdash;a third hit the tiller,

-not six inches from Jerry&rsquo;s hand.</p>

-<p>Jerry&rsquo;s face looked white as he craned his neck

-to look up at his friend. &ldquo;Whatever you&rsquo;re planning,

-I wish you&rsquo;d tell me now,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Because

-I may not be around to see the big moment when

-it comes!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll be here,&rdquo; Sandy said, &ldquo;because the big

-moment is now! Turn around with me and watch

-Jones&rsquo;s boat. If this works, it&rsquo;s going to be something

-worth watching!&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_173">173</div>

-<p>As Jerry changed his position, he saw for the

-first time that Sandy had the big brass flare gun in

-his hand! He was cocking it carefully, and keeping

-an eye on Jones&rsquo;s sloop which seemed to be almost

-ready to ram them. Lying flat on the foredeck of

-the pursuing boat, they could clearly see the figure

-of Turk, hurriedly reloading his pistol.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re not going to try to shoot him with

-that?&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;Those things are way too inaccurate!

-You won&rsquo;t stand a chance!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Not him,&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;It!&rdquo; He steadied the

-flare gun on the edge of the afterdeck and squinted

-down its length, aiming at the spinnaker!</p>

-<p>Seeing now what Sandy was attempting, Jerry

-crouched beside him and held his breath. Sandy

-waited till almost the last possible minute until,

-just as Turk was raising his pistol to fire once

-more, he released the flare.</p>

-<p>A dazzling arc of fire leaped from the brass

-muzzle straight for the bellying spinnaker! It

-landed in a shower of sparks, bright enough to

-show them Turk&rsquo;s astonished face turned upward

-to see what had hit them. The shot had hit

-squarely in the center of the ballooning sail, burning

-a small, red-ringed hole which slowly spread.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_174">174</div>

-<p>Would this be all? Just a spreading ring of coals

-that would die in a minute or two? If this was all,

-it was not enough! Then, just as Sandy was beginning

-to fear that he had made a mistake that might

-well cost them everything, the sail burst into

-flame!</p>

-<p>The column of fire shot straight upward into

-the blackness of the night, vividly illuminating

-both boats. In its brilliant light, the boys saw

-Turk stand up, black against the flames, then

-leap overboard.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;One down!&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;But what about

-Jones?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>As the flaming spinnaker spread its fire to the

-mainsail and the mast, they saw Jones rise in the

-cockpit, level his rifle and shoot. Six shots rang

-out in quick succession, and all six whizzed harmlessly

-by. Then Jones flung his empty gun into the

-sea and turned his attention to the fire.</p>

-<p>Jerry and Sandy sailed slowly away from the

-flaming scene, and then started to sail in a circle

-around it, still watching Jones. He had gotten a

-bucket from below, and was throwing sea water,

-as fast as he could scoop it up, over the burning

-and the unburned parts of the sloop. The fire was

-gaining though, and his efforts were obviously

-doomed to failure.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;If he hadn&rsquo;t been so busy shooting when the

-fire started,&rdquo; Jerry said, &ldquo;he would have stood a

-good chance of putting it out. The delay is going

-to sink him!&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_175">175</div>

-<p>Jones worked feverishly until the last possible

-moment, until the decks and the cabin were

-aflame, and the fire had spread to the little cockpit.

-Finally, when it was obvious that there was no

-more he could do, he kicked off his shoes and

-jumped over the side.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;What do we do now?&rdquo; Sandy asked. &ldquo;We can&rsquo;t

-just leave them there to drown. They probably

-deserve it, but I don&rsquo;t think it&rsquo;s up to us to judge

-what kind of sentence they get.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re right,&rdquo; Jerry agreed. &ldquo;But if we take

-them aboard, we won&rsquo;t stand much of a chance

-against them. Why don&rsquo;t we try to find them and

-toss them a couple of life jackets so they can stay

-afloat while we make up our minds?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>It was no trouble to find Turk, who came

-swimming up to the side to beg to be taken

-aboard. Sandy kept the empty flare pistol aimed

-at him while Jerry looked for the life jackets.

-When he had found them, he tossed one over the

-side, and Turk struggled into it. Then, still

-frightened of the flare gun which he did not know

-was empty, he held up his hands tamely to allow

-Jerry to tie them together.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Now will ya lemme come on board?&rdquo; he

-pleaded.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_176">176</div>

-<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think so,&rdquo; Sandy answered. &ldquo;I think

-you&rsquo;ll be safer at the end of a long line. Just relax,

-and we&rsquo;ll tow you back to shore!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>With Turk in tow, the sloop handled rather

-sluggishly as the boys circled the scene of the fire

-searching for Jones. The bright light of the flames

-had died to a glowing, dull orange which was soon

-to go out altogether as the sloop settled lower and

-lower in the water.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;What we need is a searchlight,&rdquo; Jerry said.

-&ldquo;We may never find him unless he swims to us the

-way Turk did!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Listen!&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;If I&rsquo;m not mistaken, I

-hear a searchlight coming now!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Turning in the direction of the new sound of

-powerful marine motors, they were met with a

-bright searchlight beam, which swept from them

-to the burning sloop and back again. For the first

-time since their adventure had started, Sandy felt

-a genuine feeling of relief, as the Coast Guard

-cutter reversed its engines and came to a neat stop

-alongside.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_177">177</div>

-<h2 id="c17"><span class="small">CHAPTER SEVENTEEN</span>

-<br />Another Discovery</h2>

-<p>With the arrival of the Coast Guard, the problem

-of finding Jones solved itself. He quickly

-realized the hopelessness of his position and swam

-in from the darkness toward the cutter and the

-sloop, tamely giving himself up.</p>

-<p>It was only after he and Turk had both been

-taken on board the Coast Guard vessel and placed

-under guard that the captain of the cutter, Lieutenant

-Ames, started to ask the necessary questions.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_178">178</div>

-<p>He listened, absorbed in the story, until Sandy

-had finished talking. Then he sighed. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s

-quite a yarn, boys. It sounds pretty wild. For your

-sakes, I hope that you can show some evidence to

-back it up. Otherwise, all we have is your word.

-Now, your word may be good enough for me&mdash;&rdquo;

-he held up a hand to forestall Sandy&rsquo;s objections&mdash;&ldquo;but

-it&rsquo;s going to take more than that to make a

-charge of counterfeiting stick in a court of law.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ve <i>got</i> more than that!&rdquo; Sandy said angrily.

-&ldquo;We can show you the island, and unless I miss

-my guess, we&rsquo;ll find Jones&rsquo;s counterfeiting presses

-there!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I hope so,&rdquo; Lieutenant Ames said. &ldquo;Meanwhile,

-since you&rsquo;ve made charges against these

-men, I&rsquo;ll hold them in custody until we get ashore.

-Then I&rsquo;ll turn them and the whole case over to

-the FBI, where it belongs.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>His official statement done, Lieutenant Ames

-relaxed into a boyish grin. &ldquo;You can get those

-scowls off your faces now,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I just wanted

-you to realize that we&rsquo;ve got to have good, solid

-proof before this business is over with. As for me,

-I believe your story, and I think the FBI will,

-too.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not too worried about proving our story

-about Jones and Turk,&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;But what

-worries me is how we&rsquo;re going to get the freighter,

-now that it&rsquo;s out of U.S. coastal waters.&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_179">179</div>

-<p>&ldquo;The Navy will take care of them,&rdquo; Lieutenant

-Ames said. &ldquo;But that reminds me, you didn&rsquo;t tell

-me the name of the freighter, and we&rsquo;ll need to

-radio that to the Navy right away.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I noticed the name on the lifeboat,&rdquo; Jerry said.

-&ldquo;It was the <i>Mary N. Smith</i>, from Weymouth.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;No!&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;You must have gotten it

-mixed up in the darkness. I saw it clear as day on

-the stern. It was the <i>Martin South</i> from Yarmouth!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure I had it right,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;I remember

-thinking to myself that it was a pretty

-innocent, girlish name for such a dirty freighter!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Maybe you&rsquo;re both right,&rdquo; Lieutenant Ames

-said. &ldquo;It sounds to me as if both names have a lot

-in common. They probably have a set of phony

-papers under each name&mdash;and maybe under

-three or four more names that sound a lot like

-those. That way, all they have to do is paint out

-and change a few letters after each port, instead

-of having the whole job to do. It allows them to

-make quick shifts of identity.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;It also lets them explain that they were picked

-up because of an accidental similarity of names,

-in case of trouble,&rdquo; Jerry put in. &ldquo;I wonder what

-name they&rsquo;re using now,&rdquo; he added.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_180">180</div>

-<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s pretty easy to guess,&rdquo; the Coast Guard

-officer said. &ldquo;If I were changing names after

-leaving a port, I&rsquo;d paint the bow and stern while

-I was at anchor, and leave the lifeboats and other

-things for when I was at sea. My guess is that

-we&rsquo;ll find them sailing as the <i>Martin South</i> from

-Yarmouth.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Unless,&rdquo; Sandy added, &ldquo;unless they decided to

-change it to something else while at sea, after the

-trouble. After all, they have no idea whether Jones

-got us or we got him, and they&rsquo;ll probably be expecting

-to get picked up.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Well, we won&rsquo;t take any chances,&rdquo; Ames said.

-&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll radio the Navy now to be on the lookout for

-any freighter with a name anything like <i>Martin

-South</i> or <i>Mary N. Smith</i>. And if I know those boys,

-we&rsquo;ll have a report on them within the next few

-hours!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>After giving his instructions to the radio operator,

-Ames decided it was time to head for shore

-and turn over Jones, Turk and the boys to the

-FBI. It was decided to take the sloop in tow

-behind the cutter, and Sandy went over the side

-to find a towing line to hand up to the cutter&rsquo;s

-deck.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Come on over with me,&rdquo; Sandy said, &ldquo;and

-I&rsquo;ll show you some of the bullet holes we&rsquo;re carrying.

-They ought to help support our story!&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_181">181</div>

-<p>Lieutenant Ames followed Sandy over the side

-and joined him on the deck of the little sloop,

-where he examined the holes in the sail and the

-furrows in the deck and the coamings. &ldquo;They sure

-came close!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re pretty lucky to be

-here in one piece now.&rdquo; He ran his finger thoughtfully

-along a deep scar in the coaming near where

-Sandy&rsquo;s head had been, and whistled low when he

-saw the splintered spot on the tiller.</p>

-<p>Lieutenant Ames followed Sandy below in

-search of the spare mooring line. (The original

-one had been left dangling from the deck of the

-freighter.) He stood stooped over in the low cabin,

-surveying the trim accommodations. At last, Sandy

-found a line that would do, stowed away up

-forward with the anchor.</p>

-<p>Joining Ames in the cabin, he pointed to the

-locker above the compact galley. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s where

-we found the money when we went looking for the

-canned food,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;It was filled up all the way

-to here,&rdquo; he indicated, sliding back the locker

-door.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;What do you mean, <i>was</i>?&rdquo; the Coast Guard

-officer asked with a gasp. The open locker door revealed

-the stacked counterfeit, untouched, just as

-the boys had first seen it!</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Whew!&rdquo; Sandy sighed. &ldquo;Well, I guess <i>that</i>

-takes care of our case against Jones!&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_182">182</div>

-<p>As they towed the sloop back to Cliffport, heading

-into the bright colors of a Pacific sunrise, they

-pieced together what must have happened.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;From what we overheard on the freighter,&rdquo;

-Sandy said, &ldquo;Jones and the freighter captain were

-both dissatisfied with the original deal they had

-made for the counterfeit money. Jones wanted

-more for the stuff, because of the risk he had run

-with us and because of the added chances he was

-taking if we disappeared from Cliffport. A local

-investigation of our disappearance might turn up

-someone who had seen us near his island.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Right,&rdquo; Jerry added. &ldquo;And the Captain wanted

-a larger share than usual for himself because of

-the risk he was running in getting rid of us for

-Jones. They bargained about it for a long time.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Lieutenant Ames nodded. &ldquo;And Jones wasn&rsquo;t

-taking any chances by bringing the money on

-board until his deal had been settled. He must

-have been going for it when you saw him and the

-Captain shaking hands on deck. And the reason

-he was so desperate when he saw you sailing off

-was that he knew you were not only escaping,

-but escaping with the evidence!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I guess it&rsquo;s not always a bad thing,&rdquo; Sandy

-laughed, &ldquo;to make the same mistake twice!&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_183">183</div>

-<h2 id="c18"><span class="small">CHAPTER EIGHTEEN</span>

-<br />Homeward Bound</h2>

-<p>Three days later, the case ended where it had

-really begun&mdash;back in the Cliffport Boat Yard.

-Only this time, Sandy and Jerry picked their way

-over the timbers and rails with Lieutenant Ames

-instead of with Sandy&rsquo;s Uncle Russ.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;I guess you boys are glad this is all over,&rdquo; he

-said. &ldquo;I suppose you&rsquo;re all set for your trip home

-now?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;We sure are,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;We just need to buy

-a few things, and we&rsquo;re ready.&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_184">184</div>

-<p>&ldquo;It was sure nice of the FBI to let us have

-Jones&rsquo;s sloop as part of the reward,&rdquo; Sandy added.

-&ldquo;I felt pretty bad when I saw my boat on fire. I

-was sure that if we ever got back to shore, we&rsquo;d

-be taking the train home!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;There was no sense in keeping it,&rdquo; Ames said.

-&ldquo;Not even for evidence. We had all the evidence

-we needed with that bundle of counterfeit money&mdash;and

-even more than that, with the printing

-press and the plates we found at Jones&rsquo;s little

-resort. And everyone agreed that you ought to

-have it.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>They walked along the sea wall until they

-reached the corner of the shed, where Lieutenant

-Ames suddenly stopped. &ldquo;As long as you&rsquo;re thanking

-the FBI for the boat,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I think you

-might as well thank the Coast Guard too!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Well, of course,&rdquo; Sandy said, puzzled. &ldquo;I only

-meant that it was the FBI who really had title to

-it, and they were the ones who decided.... I

-mean, we&rsquo;re grateful to you all.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Ames laughed. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want to keep you in the

-dark,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;The FBI gave you the boat, all

-right, but we decided to pitch in a little, too.

-Look!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>They turned the corner of the boat-yard shed.

-In front of them, resting in a high cradle, was the

-sloop, freshly painted and gleaming in the sun,

-her sides as smooth as glass.</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_185">185</div>

-<p>After both boys had thanked Lieutenant Ames

-profusely, Jerry asked, &ldquo;How did you ever get so

-much done in just three days?&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Oh, that&rsquo;s the Coast Guard way with boats,&rdquo;

-Ames said and he laughed. &ldquo;A whole gang of the

-boys decided to go to work on her, and we did in

-three days what would take most boat yards a

-week or two. It started when we decided to fix up

-the bullet scars, and it just didn&rsquo;t stop until we

-had finished the whole thing!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Climbing to the deck, they inspected the newly

-painted cabin and cockpit, the freshly varnished

-coamings and mast, the almost invisible repairs

-on the decks.</p>

-<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll have her launched within the next

-hour,&rdquo; Lieutenant Ames said. &ldquo;Why don&rsquo;t you go

-into town to buy whatever you need in the meanwhile?

-It shouldn&rsquo;t take you too long to get stores

-for a short trip.&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s a good idea,&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;But we&rsquo;re

-going to need more than the regular stores. I&rsquo;m

-going to spend some of that reward money right

-away on a new spinnaker. That&rsquo;s one thing I&rsquo;ve

-decided never to be without again!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>&ldquo;Not only that,&rdquo; Jerry added, &ldquo;but we want to

-get some more shells for the flare pistol. I don&rsquo;t

-think I&rsquo;ll ever feel comfortable without that on

-board!&rdquo;</p>

-<div class="pb" id="Page_186">186</div>

-<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s something else, too,&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;I

-think we ought to think up a name for this boat

-right away, and pick up some brass letters for the

-stern. I don&rsquo;t want to keep on making mistakes!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Ames joined in the laughter, then said, &ldquo;That&rsquo;s

-one thing I think you don&rsquo;t have to do. That is,

-unless you don&rsquo;t like the name the Coast Guard

-picked out for you!&rdquo;</p>

-<p>Rushing to the stern, Sandy and Jerry leaned

-over to see the shiny brass letters screwed to the

-counter of their sloop. Looked at upside down,

-they spelled:</p>

-<p class="center">REWARD</p>

-<div class="box">

-<h3 id="c19">SANDY STEELE ADVENTURES</h3>

-<p class="center rubric">1. BLACK TREASURE</p>

-<p>Sandy Steele and Quiz spend an action-filled summer

-in the oil fields of the Southwest. In their search for oil

-and uranium, they unmask a dangerous masquerader.</p>

-<p class="center rubric">2. DANGER AT MORMON CROSSING</p>

-<p>On a hunting trip in the Lost River section of Idaho,

-Sandy and Mike ride the rapids, bag a mountain lion,

-and stumble onto the answer to a hundred-year-old

-mystery.</p>

-<p class="center rubric">3. STORMY VOYAGE</p>

-<p>Sandy and Jerry James ship as deck hands on one of

-the &ldquo;long boats&rdquo; of the Great Lakes. They are plunged

-into a series of adventures and find themselves involved

-in a treacherous plot.</p>

-<p class="center rubric">4. FIRE AT RED LAKE</p>

-<p>Sandy and his friends pitch in to fight a forest fire in

-Minnesota. Only they and Sandy&rsquo;s uncle know that

-there is an unexploded A-bomb in the area to add to

-the danger.</p>

-<p class="center rubric">5. SECRET MISSION TO ALASKA</p>

-<p>A pleasant Christmas trip turns into a startling adventure.

-Sandy and Jerry participate in a perilous dog-sled

-race, encounter a wounded bear, and are taken as

-hostages by a ruthless enemy.</p>

-<p class="center rubric">6. TROUBLED WATERS</p>

-<p>When Sandy and Jerry mistakenly sail off in a stranger&rsquo;s

-sloop instead of their own, they land in a sea of trouble.

-Their attempts to outmaneuver a desperate crew are

-intertwined with fascinating sailing lore.</p>

-<p class="center"><b>PUBLISHED BY SIMON AND SCHUSTER</b></p>

-</div>

-<h2 id="tn">Transcriber&rsquo;s Note</h2><ul><li>Copyright notice provided as in the original&mdash;this e-text is public domain in the country of publication.</li>

-<li>Silently corrected apparent typographical errors; left non-standard

-  spellings and dialect unchanged.</li>

-<li>In the original, the last word in the text was printed upside down.</li>

-</ul>

-

-<p>&nbsp;</p>

-<p>&nbsp;</p>

-<hr class="full" />

-<p class="pg">***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TROUBLED WATERS***</p>

-<p class="pg">******* This file should be named 50353-h.htm or 50353-h.zip *******</p>

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+<body>
+<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 50353 ***</div>
+<h1 class="pg">The Project Gutenberg eBook, Troubled Waters, by Robert Leckie</h1>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<div class="img">
+<img id="coverpage" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Troubled Waters" width="500" height="775" />
+</div>
+<p class="center">SANDY STEELE ADVENTURES</p>
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Black Treasure</span>
+<br /><span class="sc">Danger at Mormon Crossing</span>
+<br /><span class="sc">Stormy Voyage</span>
+<br /><span class="sc">Fire at Red Lake</span>
+<br /><span class="sc">Secret Mission to Alaska</span>
+<br /><span class="sc">Troubled Waters</span></p>
+<div class="box">
+<h1>Sandy Steele Adventures<br />
+<br /><i>TROUBLED WATERS</i></h1>
+<p class="tbcenter">BY ROGER BARLOW</p>
+<p class="tbcenter"><span class="small">SIMON AND SCHUSTER</span>
+<br /><i>New York, 1959</i></p>
+</div>
+<p class="csmaller">ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
+<br />INCLUDING THE RIGHT OF REPRODUCTION
+<br />IN WHOLE OR IN PART IN ANY FORM
+<br />COPYRIGHT &copy; 1959 BY SIMON AND SCHUSTER, INC.
+<br />PUBLISHED BY SIMON AND SCHUSTER, INC.
+<br />ROCKEFELLER CENTER, 630 FIFTH AVENUE
+<br />NEW YORK 20, N. Y.</p>
+<p class="csmaller">FIRST PRINTING</p>
+<p class="csmaller">LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOG CARD NUMBER: 59-13882
+<br />MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
+<br />BY H. WOLFF BOOK MFG. CO., INC., NEW YORK</p>
+<h2 class="toc">CONTENTS</h2>
+<dl class="toc">
+<dt class="jr"><span class="jl"><span class="small">CHAPTER</span></span> <span class="small">PAGE</span></dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">1 </span><a href="#c1">An Unusual Gift</a> 9</dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">2 </span><a href="#c2">Make Ready to Sail!</a> 20</dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">3 </span><a href="#c3">Shakedown Cruise</a> 33</dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">4 </span><a href="#c4">The Man with the Gun</a> 51</dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">5 </span><a href="#c5">Storm Fears</a> 67</dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">6 </span><a href="#c6">Something Lost&mdash;Something Found!</a> 75</dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">7 </span><a href="#c7">A Million Dollars&rsquo; Worth of Trouble</a> 82</dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">8 </span><a href="#c8">Double Blackout</a> 87</dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">9 </span><a href="#c9">To the Freighter</a> 97</dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">10 </span><a href="#c10">Aboard the Floating Prison</a> 108</dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">11 </span><a href="#c11">Escape to Danger</a> 120</dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">12 </span><a href="#c12">The Race Begins</a> 136</dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">13 </span><a href="#c13">A Race of Mistaken Identity</a> 146</dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">14 </span><a href="#c14">Slow-Motion Chase</a> 153</dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">15 </span><a href="#c15">Turn and Turn Again</a> 160</dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">16 </span><a href="#c16">The End of the Race</a> 169</dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">17 </span><a href="#c17">Another Discovery</a> 177</dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">18 </span><a href="#c18">Homeward Bound</a> 183</dt>
+</dl>
+<div class="img">
+<img src="images/pmg006.jpg" alt="CLIFFPORT CALIFORNIA" width="500" height="551" />
+<p class="center i">CLIFFPORT CALIFORNIA</p>
+</div>
+<div class="img">
+<img src="images/pmg006a.jpg" alt="SLOOP" width="500" height="452" />
+<p class="center i">SLOOP</p>
+</div>
+<dl class="int"><dt>(1) <i>Mainsail</i></dt>
+<dt>(2) <i>Jib</i></dt>
+<dt>(3) <i>Mast</i></dt>
+<dt>(4) <i>Boom</i></dt>
+<dt>(5) <i>Shrouds</i> (<i>standing rigging</i>)</dt>
+<dt>(6) <i>Headstay</i> (<span class="hst"> &rdquo;</span><span class="hst"> &rdquo;</span><span class="hst"> )</span></dt>
+<dt>(7) <i>Backstay</i> (<span class="hst"> &rdquo;</span><span class="hst"> &rdquo;</span><span class="hst"> )</span></dt>
+<dt>(8) <i>Rudder</i></dt>
+<dt>(9) <i>Tiller</i></dt>
+<dt>(10) <i>Mainsheet</i></dt>
+<dt>(11) <i>Hawk</i></dt>
+<dt>(12) <i>Halyards</i></dt></dl>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_9">9</div>
+<h2 id="c1"><span class="small">CHAPTER ONE</span>
+<br />An Unusual Gift</h2>
+<p>Sandy Steele slowly put down the phone and
+pushed his blond cowlick back from his brow. Excitement
+and confusion were mixed in equal parts
+in his expression as he turned to his father, John
+Steele, who stood leaning against his workbench,
+idly tossing a piece of quartz crystal in the air.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Wow!&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;Leave it to Uncle Russ to
+come up with a real surprise!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It certainly seems to be a habit of his,&rdquo; John
+Steele smiled. &ldquo;What do you think of this particular
+surprise?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I hardly know what to think,&rdquo; Sandy answered.
+&ldquo;The question is, what do you and Mother think?
+I mean, is it all right if I go&mdash;if I can find somebody
+to go with me?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_10">10</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Your mother and I discussed this with your
+Uncle Russ before he called you,&rdquo; Sandy&rsquo;s father
+said, &ldquo;so I guess that&rsquo;s one worry you don&rsquo;t have
+to consider. The only problem you have is finding
+somebody who knows how to handle a boat, and
+who&rsquo;ll be interested in making this trip with you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Wrinkling his forehead in thought, Sandy swung
+his gangling six-foot frame up on to the workbench
+next to his father. &ldquo;How about you, Dad?&rdquo;
+he asked. &ldquo;Do you know anything about sailing
+a boat?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>His father shook his head. &ldquo;Sailing is hardly a
+skill that a government field geologist needs to
+develop. My work is with rocks and minerals&mdash;the
+dryest kind of dry land. What I know about water,
+you could carve on granite and put in your watch
+pocket!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Geology didn&rsquo;t make you into an inventor, a
+chemist, an electrical engineer, a carpenter and
+gosh knows what else,&rdquo; Sandy answered, waving
+around him at the crowded workshop with its confusing
+mass of equipment. &ldquo;I just thought you
+might have done some reading on this subject,
+too.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_11">11</div>
+<p>John Steele smiled. &ldquo;As the proud but confused
+owner of a new sailboat, one of the first things
+you&rsquo;ll learn is that there&rsquo;s a world of difference
+between theory and practice. I&rsquo;ve been out on a
+boat a few times; years ago, though. I&rsquo;ve also read
+some books on the subject, as you thought. But all
+I know is that I don&rsquo;t know anything.&rdquo; He put
+down the quartz crystal and moved away from the
+workbench. &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;if you&rsquo;re going to be
+able to accept your Uncle Russ&rsquo;s offer of a sailboat
+as a gift, and if you&rsquo;re going to sail it on a three-day
+trip down from Cliffport, you&rsquo;ll have to find
+someone with practical knowledge to help you
+do it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy frowned in concentration. &ldquo;Finding a
+sailor in Valley View is going to be like finding
+a ski instructor in the Sahara Desert!&rdquo; he said.
+&ldquo;Why, this town is almost one hundred miles inland
+from the ocean!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s true,&rdquo; John Steele said; &ldquo;but it seems
+to me that I once heard you and one of your
+friends talking about sailing. If I&rsquo;m not mistaken,
+it was Jerry James, and it sounded to me at the
+time as if he knew what he was talking about.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_12">12</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Of course!&rdquo; Sandy said, slapping his forehead
+in exasperation. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know why I didn&rsquo;t think
+of it! Jerry was a Sea Scout in Oceanhead before
+his family moved to Valley View. It&rsquo;s just that he&rsquo;s
+become so much a part of this town that I forget
+he didn&rsquo;t grow up here with the rest of us. I think
+he was a Sea Scout for about three years, and he
+had been sailing before he ever joined up. I&rsquo;m
+sure he can do it!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; his father said, &ldquo;you&rsquo;d better hunt him
+up fast and find out whether he can and will. Your
+uncle expects us to call him back within a couple
+of hours to give him an answer, because he&rsquo;s leaving
+the country in two days and he wants to get
+this settled before he goes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He had hardly finished his sentence before
+Sandy was out of the workshop, on his bike, and
+tearing down the tree-shaded street. He was sure
+that Jerry would be able to do it! He remembered
+their conversation well, now that his father had
+reminded him of it, and he recalled that Jerry had
+said that he practically grew up on boats, and that
+they were the only thing that he missed since moving
+to Valley View. In the close friendship that
+had grown up between them in the last couple of
+years, Sandy could not think of one time that Jerry
+had promised something that he did not deliver.
+If he said he could do something, he could do it!
+Sandy smiled, remembering Jerry&rsquo;s early days in
+Valley View, his modest admission that he &ldquo;could
+play a little baseball,&rdquo; and his first day on the
+diamond. Jerry had immediately shown himself
+to be the best high school catcher in the county.
+With Sandy as pitcher, they had developed into
+an almost unbeatable battery.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_13">13</div>
+<p>As he pedaled toward the drugstore owned by
+Jerry&rsquo;s father, Sandy hoped that they would be
+able to carry their teamwork on in this new venture.
+He could still hardly believe his Uncle Russ&rsquo;s
+offer of a sailboat, provided he could find someone
+to teach him how to sail. Like most boys, he had
+read and enjoyed sea stories, although many of the
+words used were strange and meaningless to him.
+In his reading, he had often pictured himself at
+sea, steering a tall ship through white-capped seas.
+A confused series of sailing words went through
+his mind: bow, stern, helm, topgallant sails, mizzen,
+poop deck, quarter-deck, galley, batten the
+hatches, go aloft....</p>
+<p>He was suddenly brought back to land as he
+narrowly missed running his bike into Pepper
+March, who refused to hurry for a mere bike.
+Putting the sea dreams firmly out of his mind, he
+continued more carefully until he pulled up in
+front of James&rsquo;s Drugstore, where he put his bike
+in the rack under the green-and-white striped
+awning and hurried into the cool, vanilla-smelling store.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_14">14</div>
+<p>Jerry was behind the counter, making up a pineapple
+ice-cream soda for Quiz Taylor who, with
+two empty glasses in front of him, was impatiently
+waiting for the third.</p>
+<p>Sandy climbed onto the stool next to the stubby
+Quiz and impatiently waited until Jerry was
+through making the soda. When the concoction
+was safely delivered into Quiz&rsquo;s eager hands, Sandy
+said, &ldquo;Jerry, I&rsquo;ve got some real exciting news! In
+fact, it&rsquo;s so exciting that I didn&rsquo;t want to tell you
+while you still had that soda in your hands. I was
+afraid you&rsquo;d toss the whole thing into the air!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Having firmly secured both his friends&rsquo; attention,
+Sandy told them about the phone call from
+his Uncle Russ, the offer of the boat, the need for
+instruction and the whole story. When he had
+finished, Jerry&rsquo;s lantern-jawed face was lit up with
+a 500-watt grin.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It sounds as if this is going to be the best vacation
+of my life!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;A boat! I can hardly
+wait to get going!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy sighed with relief. &ldquo;Then you&rsquo;re sure you
+can handle it?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_15">15</div>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s a good question,&rdquo; Jerry said, running a
+hand over his close-cropped inky hair. &ldquo;To tell
+you the truth, I don&rsquo;t know because you haven&rsquo;t
+told me yet what kind of a boat it is. There are
+plenty that I wouldn&rsquo;t even say I could act as a
+decent crew member on. Do you know what kind
+it is?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why ... why ... it&rsquo;s a sailboat!&rdquo; Sandy
+said. &ldquo;I mean, that&rsquo;s all I know about it. Does it
+make much difference?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jerry laughed. &ldquo;There are almost as many different
+kinds of boats as there are people,&rdquo; he said.
+&ldquo;Nobody but a real Master Mariner would just
+answer that he could sail anything. It&rsquo;s like being
+an airplane pilot. If you got your pilot&rsquo;s license
+flying a Piper Cub, you wouldn&rsquo;t be exactly ready
+to fly a four-engine jet bomber!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Still,&rdquo; Quiz interrupted thoughtfully, &ldquo;the
+principle remains the same in both. It&rsquo;s simply a
+question of creating a high-speed airstream, so
+directed as to pass over and under an aerodynamically
+shaped surface which, because of the varying
+degree of arc and the cambered sections and
+angle of attack, produces a lift, drag and momentum
+proportional to the density of the air, the
+square of the speed and the area of the wing or
+airfoil. It&rsquo;s simple! What&rsquo;s more, a sailboat works
+the same way.&rdquo; Looking pleased with himself,
+Quiz happily returned his attention to the pineapple
+soda.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_16">16</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Why, Quiz!&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t know you
+could fly!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Fly!&rdquo; Quiz looked up from his soda with a
+grimace. &ldquo;The very thought of flying makes me
+sick. If I don&rsquo;t hold on to the banister, I get dizzy
+when I go up to bed at night!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>All three boys laughed, for this side of Quiz&rsquo;s
+personality was a standing joke with them. Quiz,
+formally known as Clyde Benson Taylor, was
+a virtual encyclopedia of obscure information.
+While he could tell you vast amounts about nearly
+every human activity, the very idea of taking part
+in an activity usually upset him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So much for theory,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;Now, to get
+back to the practical realities of sailing a boat&mdash;I&rsquo;d
+have to know a few things about the kind of
+sailboat you have before I&rsquo;d be willing to give an
+answer. There are all kinds of boats, of all different
+sizes. There are sloops, cats, cutters, yawls,
+ketches, schooners and a hundred variations. Did
+your Uncle Russ give you any idea of what he has
+for you?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_17">17</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I think he said it was a sloop,&rdquo; Sandy said.
+&ldquo;And he did say that while it was large enough to
+sleep on and take out on a cruise, it was a pretty
+small boat. He said that anyone who knew how to
+sail would know how to handle it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That sounds right to me,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t
+think that he&rsquo;d want to start you off with a complicated
+rig or a big boat. If it&rsquo;s the kind of thing
+I think it is, I&rsquo;m sure I can sail it, and teach you
+too.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Will I have to learn all about yardarms and
+fore-topgallant sails and things like that?&rdquo; Sandy
+asked, somewhat doubtfully.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not for quite a while,&rdquo; Jerry laughed. &ldquo;You&rsquo;ve
+been reading too many books about pirates and
+whalers in the old days. You only find all those
+complicated sail and rigging names on the big
+square-rigged ships&mdash;the ones with three and
+four masts. If your boat is a sloop, it only has one
+mast, one mainsail, and a choice of maybe three
+other sails, flown one at a time with the mainsail.
+There&rsquo;s nothing much to learn compared with the
+old full-rigged ships with up to four masts.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Five,&rdquo; Quiz said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I never heard of one with more than four,&rdquo;
+Jerry commented.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_18">18</div>
+<p>As if he were reading from a book buried deep
+in his pineapple soda, Quiz mumbled around the
+straws, &ldquo;The steel ship <i>Preussen</i> was the only five-mast
+full-rigged ship ever built. It was 408 feet
+long, had masts 223 feet high, yardarms over 100
+feet long and 47 sails totaling 50,000 square feet.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Even though Sandy was used to this sort of thing
+from Quiz, he was more impressed than usual.
+&ldquo;How would you like to come with us, Quiz?&rdquo; he
+asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who, me?&rdquo; Quiz looked shocked. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t
+know the first thing about boats! No, thanks&mdash;I&rsquo;ll
+stay safe ashore!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The next half hour was spent in excitedly discussing
+the trip to come, the possibilities of sailing,
+the things Sandy would have to learn, and the
+equipment that he and Jerry would have to take
+along. Finally Sandy remembered that his Uncle
+Russ was expecting a phone call, and that Jerry
+still had to get his parents&rsquo; permission to make the
+trip. They agreed to go back to Sandy&rsquo;s house and
+let John Steele make the call to Jerry&rsquo;s father so
+that the adults could satisfy themselves about the
+wisdom of letting the boys take a three-day cruise
+for Sandy&rsquo;s first trip.</p>
+<p>Leaving Quiz in charge of the drugstore&rsquo;s soda
+fountain, they quickly hiked to the Steele home,
+where Sandy&rsquo;s father agreed to make the call.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_19">19</div>
+<p>Getting Jerry&rsquo;s parents&rsquo; consent to the trip
+proved not to be a difficult task. Mr. and Mrs.
+James obviously had a good deal of confidence in
+Jerry&rsquo;s ability to handle a sailboat, and both sets
+of parents felt that their level-headed sixteen-year-olds
+could take such a trip on their own. In short
+order, all of the details were worked out, and
+Sandy was once more on the long-distance phone
+to speak with his Uncle Russ in San Francisco.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s okay!&rdquo; he shouted, as soon as his uncle
+answered the telephone. &ldquo;Jerry James, my best
+friend, used to be a Sea Scout and knows all about
+boats. His parents say he&rsquo;s a good sailor. We&rsquo;re
+ready to start any time you want!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He listened for a minute to his uncle, then said,
+&ldquo;Swell! We&rsquo;ll be ready. And thanks a million for
+the boat!&rdquo; Hanging up the phone, he turned to
+his father, mother and Jerry with a wide grin.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Uncle Russ sure doesn&rsquo;t waste any time,&rdquo; he
+said. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s leaving now and expects to be down
+here tonight. He says that we&rsquo;d better get all
+packed and ready, because he wants to take us up
+to Cliffport tomorrow morning, and we&rsquo;ll have to
+leave here by six o&rsquo;clock!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_20">20</div>
+<h2 id="c2"><span class="small">CHAPTER TWO</span>
+<br />Make Ready to Sail!</h2>
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s one good thing about riding in this
+little sports car,&rdquo; Sandy said, and laughed as he
+eased his cramped six-foot length out of his Uncle
+Russ&rsquo;s low-slung red racer. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s going to make
+the sailboat seem as roomy as a yacht in comparison!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy pushed his cowlick out of his eyes and
+stretched as his uncle and his friend Jerry followed
+him out of the little car.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_21">21</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t worry about the size of the boat,&rdquo; Jerry
+said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll guarantee that it&rsquo;s going to seem pretty
+big and complicated, no matter how small it actually
+is, until you&rsquo;ve learned how to sail it. In
+fact, you&rsquo;re going to find that a boat is a whole new
+world, full of all kinds of new things to get used
+to. And from what your uncle told us about this
+one, it&rsquo;ll be more than big enough to keep us both
+busy for a couple of summers to come.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I feel as if we&rsquo;re in a whole new world already,&rdquo;
+Sandy replied, &ldquo;and we&rsquo;re not even on
+board yet!&rdquo; He looked about him at the beehive
+of activity that was the Cliffport Boat Yard. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve
+never seen anything like this before!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>From all sides came the sounds of hammering
+and sawing, and the thin whine of electric sanders.
+The brisk, salty smell of the sea was mingled with
+the sharp odors of paint, varnish and turpentine
+and the peculiar, half-sweet smell of marine engine
+fuel.</p>
+<p>Boats of every size and description were ranged
+about them. Towering high above them, resting
+in specially built cradles, were long hulls with
+deep, weighted keels like giant fins under them.
+Heavy frames and timbers held these boats upright,
+and ladders leaned against them to where
+their decks joined their sides, high overhead. Men
+scrambled up and down the ladders with tools and
+equipment, or sat on the scaffolds and frames,
+painting.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_22">22</div>
+<p>Smaller craft without keels were braced in
+cradles or frames on the ground, or lay bottoms
+up on racks made of heavy beams that looked
+like railroad ties. Some of the boats were having
+their bottoms scraped, some were being sanded,
+others were in the process of painting.</p>
+<p>At one nearby boat, Sandy saw men hammering
+on the bottom of the hull with big wooden
+mallets. Jerry explained that these were calking
+hammers, and that they were used to drive oakum
+into the seams between the planks to make the
+boats watertight for sailing. When the boats were
+put in the water later on, he added, the planks
+would swell and form waterproof joints where the
+planks met.</p>
+<p>On both sides, lines of railroad tracks led from
+the boat yard and the big sheds straight down to
+the water&rsquo;s edge and on into the water. Boats on
+wheeled flatcars stood on the rails here and there,
+ready to be eased down the tracks into the water
+for launching. Jerry explained how, when the flatcars
+with their cradles had gone down the slope
+and were under water, the boats simply floated
+away from them. Then the launching device
+would be hauled back up the tracks for use on
+another boat.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_23">23</div>
+<p>Sandy looked about him in bewilderment at
+the variety of boats in the yard. There were small
+boats with one mast, larger ones with two, cabin
+cruisers with no masts at all, and one sleek, beautiful,
+black-hulled boat with three tall masts. He
+was just beginning to think that he had found
+some relationship between the size of the boat and
+the number of masts when he spotted what appeared
+to be one of the largest hulls in the boat
+yard, with one immense mast. Next to it was a far
+smaller boat with two. Sandy thought to himself
+that there didn&rsquo;t appear to be any simple rules to
+the business of boat designing. All in all the bustling
+Cliffport Boat Yard was a thoroughly confusing
+sight for Sandy, and a pretty exciting one,
+too.</p>
+<p>As a matter of fact, the entire last two days had
+been pretty confusing and exciting, Sandy reflected.
+Just two days ago, he had started on his
+spring vacation from Valley View High School
+with not a thing to do but loaf around home. Now,
+suddenly, he was the owner of a sailboat he had
+never seen, and he was preparing to take a two-hundred-mile
+cruise down the coast! A two-hundred-mile
+cruise&mdash;and he had never even been on
+board a sailboat!</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_24">24</div>
+<p>Looking at the maze of masts and rigging
+around him, Sandy sensed for the first time some
+of the complications of handling a boat. Laying a
+hand on his friend&rsquo;s shoulder, he said, &ldquo;Boy, Jerry,
+I sure hope you can sail this boat alone! If what
+I see around me is a sample, I&rsquo;m afraid I&rsquo;m going
+to be too confused to do more than just watch you
+and maybe ask a few simple-minded questions!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t worry about it,&rdquo; Jerry said with a grin.
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s not anywhere near as complicated as it looks
+at first sight. I learned to handle a boat fairly well
+in just a few summers at the shore, plus some instruction
+in the Sea Scouts, and I didn&rsquo;t even have
+my own boat so that I could sail regularly. One
+season of working your own boat will probably
+turn you into a first-rate skipper!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then Jerry frowned for a minute and ran his
+hand over his hair. &ldquo;Speaking of being a skipper,&rdquo;
+he began awkwardly, &ldquo;you realize, I guess, that I&rsquo;ll
+have to act as skipper of this boat at first? I mean,
+I know it&rsquo;s your boat and all, but....&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy laughed. &ldquo;You go right ahead and take
+charge! I&rsquo;ll be more than happy to take orders
+from you. After all, somebody on board has to be
+in charge, and it&rsquo;s a good idea to have it be someone
+who knows what he&rsquo;s in charge of!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Fine,&rdquo; Jerry said, looking relieved. &ldquo;If you
+just keep up that kind of attitude, you&rsquo;ll be the
+best kind of a crew member that any skipper could
+ask for!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_25">25</div>
+<p>Sandy&rsquo;s Uncle Russ had been waiting by his car
+while the boys had been talking and taking in the
+sights, sounds and smells of the Cliffport Boat
+Yard. Now he moved over to join them. &ldquo;The
+trunk of the car is open,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and your sea
+bags are in there. And that&rsquo;s as much as I intend
+to do about it. I don&rsquo;t know much about sailors,
+but if they&rsquo;re anything at all like soldiers, they
+carry their own packs! Now let&rsquo;s get going!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The boys grinned sheepishly and ran to the
+back of the car to gather their equipment, and
+Russell Steele relaxed and dropped his mock military
+manner. An ex-general of the United States
+Army, he often kidded Sandy and his friends by
+pretending that they were soldiers in his command.
+This time, he reflected, it was very nearly
+true. In the same way that a general must feel a
+responsibility toward the men he sends out on a
+mission, Russell Steele felt responsible for Sandy
+and Jerry as they were preparing to set out on this
+trip.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_26">26</div>
+<p>After all, he reminded himself, the trip had
+been his idea, and the sailboat had been his present
+to Sandy. He had been using the boat during
+the last few months while doing some research on
+special underwater equipment for the government,
+and now he no longer had any need for it. As Vice
+President of World Dynamics Corporation, Russell
+Steele was in charge of the New Projects Division.
+World Dynamics was a sprawling concern
+with almost unlimited interests, often in the most
+secret kinds of affairs, and his work with it often
+called him to different parts of the world. He had
+found his stay in Cliffport a pleasant change from
+some of the remote and often primitive places he
+had been forced to settle in in the past. Now, however,
+he was off again, to one more secret destination.
+He wouldn&rsquo;t be in a position to use a sailboat
+again for a long time to come.</p>
+<p>Sandy&rsquo;s Uncle Russ had been brought up on the
+seacoast of California. While his brother, Sandy&rsquo;s
+father, had become fascinated with the rocks and
+geological formations of the nearby mountains and
+deserts, he had gone in the other direction to the
+shores of the Pacific. During nearly all of his boyhood
+he had puttered around boats and boat
+yards.</p>
+<p>Although Russell Steele had spent most of his
+adult life in the Army (and maybe because of it)
+he had always had a soft spot in his heart for the
+sport of sailing. He had regretted that Sandy, his
+only nephew, lived inland in Valley View where
+he was unable to share in this enthusiasm. But
+Valley View was only a couple of hours from the
+seacoast and now that Sandy was old enough to
+drive a car, it would be possible for him to own
+and enjoy a sailboat.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_27">27</div>
+<p>Uncle Russ thought of all this, and then he
+wondered whether it had been a good idea to
+suggest that the boys bring the sloop all the way
+down from Cliffport on their very first sail. Still,
+he mused, Jerry seemed like a responsible lad, and
+he had said that he knew how to handle a boat well
+enough to make such a trip. And Sandy learned
+fast and was good with his hands. Well, the General
+thought to himself, we&rsquo;ll just have to give
+them their heads and let them try it to see how
+they make out....</p>
+<p>At that moment in his reflections, the boys
+joined him with their luggage, and all three started
+through the boat yard to the waterfront. As they
+picked their way through the clutter of boats,
+scrap lumber, railroad tracks and equipment, they
+passed close by the side of a boat standing on the
+ways about to be launched. Sandy ran his hand
+over the gleaming paintwork of the hull, and
+found that it was as smooth as glass. Jerry explained
+that great care was given to getting a
+smooth paint job, because the greatest force working
+against a boat to slow it down is the friction
+created by the water passing over the hull. Good
+racing boats, he told Sandy, are hauled out of the
+water to be cleaned and painted several times in a season.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_28">28</div>
+<p>Their walk had by now led them down to the
+water&rsquo;s edge, where they walked along a weathered
+wharf. A light, early-morning haze made the colors
+of the sailboats that floated in the bay seem soft
+and pale. The water and the sky appeared to be
+one single surface, with no break or horizon line
+to indicate where one stopped and the other
+began. The boat-yard flag on its mast atop the
+main shed fluttered lazily in a mild breeze, and
+a gentle ground swell made soft, lapping sounds
+under the wharf.</p>
+<p>Strolling along, they came to a long, steeply
+sloping gangway that descended to a floating dock,
+to which were tied several small sailboats that
+rocked quietly on the smooth swell of Cliffport
+Bay.</p>
+<p>Russell Steele took his pipe out of his mouth
+and pointed with it. &ldquo;See there?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;The
+third sloop&mdash;the one with the white hull and the
+green decks and the varnished mast&mdash;that&rsquo;s your
+new sailboat, Sandy, and I hope you enjoy it as
+much as I have.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_29">29</div>
+<p>Before he had finished his sentence, Sandy and
+Jerry were down the steep gangway, racing along
+the floating dock to where the trim, white sloop
+was tied. Russ Steele smiled, replaced his pipe in
+his mouth, and followed at a pace almost as fast as
+the boys&rsquo;.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a beauty!&rdquo; Sandy panted, pushing his hair
+back from his eyes. &ldquo;What slick lines! And look
+at how roomy the cabin is! And look at the height
+of the mast! And all that rigging!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>His grin faded, and a look of bewilderment
+spread across his face. &ldquo;Boy, I can sure say that
+again! Just look at all that rigging! How am I
+supposed to know what to do with what and when
+to do it, Jerry?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jerry laughed, and jumped lightly into the
+small cockpit. &ldquo;Come on board, skipper, and we&rsquo;ll
+start your first sailing lesson by showing you
+around and telling you the names of things. It&rsquo;s
+not half as complicated as it looks. In fact, this
+sloop rig is just about the simplest there is. As soon
+as you learn what to call things, you&rsquo;ll have the
+hardest part of the lesson over with.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy followed Jerry into the cockpit, then
+paused to turn and face his uncle, who was still
+standing on the dock. &ldquo;How about you, Uncle
+Russ?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;Will you stick around for a
+little while and take the first sail with us?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_30">30</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Thanks for asking, Sandy,&rdquo; Russell Steele
+answered, &ldquo;but much as I&rsquo;d like to come along
+with you, I can&rsquo;t manage it. I have to be back in
+my office this afternoon for an important conference.
+In fact, I&rsquo;ll just about make it if I get
+started now. But before I get under way, and
+before you get carried away with the fine art of
+sailing, there are a few things that you&rsquo;ll need to
+know.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He talked rapidly and uninterruptedly for
+about five minutes and, when he had finished,
+Sandy appreciated for the first time how thoroughly
+well-organized his Uncle Russ was. His
+preparations for the boys&rsquo; trip had been complete
+in every last detail. Russell Steele&rsquo;s practiced military
+mind had reviewed the situation and had
+missed nothing that might be needed.</p>
+<p>The sailboat had been fully provisioned for
+more than a week of sailing, and had been
+equipped for every possible emergency as well as
+for a routine and pleasant cruise. The small cabin
+contained an alcohol cookstove and a good supply
+of canned food. Every locker and storage place was
+full, and everything put on board had been chosen
+with care and an eye for both comfort and necessity.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_31">31</div>
+<p>A complete tool chest was stowed in its cubby
+with several boxes of spare hardware, ship fittings,
+nuts and bolts, wire and odd tackle. A drawer
+under one of the bunks contained a whole assortment
+of fishing equipment. Another carried an
+odd mixture of things that the boys might want,
+even including clothespins for drying garments,
+and a sewing kit. A specially made bag contained
+another sewing kit, this one for sails and canvas
+repair.</p>
+<p>In a narrow, hanging locker in the forward part
+of the cabin were two complete foul-weather suits
+consisting of waterproof pants and jackets with
+hoods. Below them were two pairs of sea boots.</p>
+<p>Opposite this was the small enclosed &ldquo;head,&rdquo;
+sailor&rsquo;s word for bathroom. No bigger than a
+telephone booth, it still managed to contain a
+toilet and a sink, plus a cabinet for medicines and
+first-aid supplies and another for towels, soap,
+toothbrushes and the like.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The only things that you won&rsquo;t find on board
+yet,&rdquo; Russell Steele concluded, &ldquo;are your sleeping
+bags and your air mattresses. I&rsquo;ve ordered
+special ones that the local store didn&rsquo;t have in
+stock, and they&rsquo;re not due to arrive until tomorrow.
+For tonight, you&rsquo;ll have to plan on sleeping
+ashore, but I&rsquo;ve taken care of that for you,
+too. I&rsquo;ve got a room reserved for you at the Cliffport
+Hotel. After tomorrow, you can sleep on
+board, like sailors.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_32">32</div>
+<p>He scowled at his pipe for several seconds, as if
+he hoped to see in it some hint of anything that
+he might have forgotten to take care of, and he
+mentally checked each item again. Sails okay?
+Charts and navigating instruments in place? Food?
+Tools? Spare lines? Life jackets? Oars for the
+dinghy? Cleaning equipment? Sea anchor? Everything
+checked out. At last, satisfied that all was in
+good order, he smiled and clamped the pipe in
+his teeth again.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;the only thing I&rsquo;ve forgotten
+is the seagoing way to say goodbye!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He settled for &ldquo;Ahoy!&rdquo; and &ldquo;Smooth sailing!&rdquo;
+and, brushing off Sandy&rsquo;s thanks, walked briskly
+up the gangway without turning back.</p>
+<p>The boys watched him as he turned the corner
+of the main shed and walked out of sight, then
+they gave all their attention to a close survey of
+their new floating home.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_33">33</div>
+<h2 id="c3"><span class="small">CHAPTER THREE</span>
+<br />Shakedown Cruise</h2>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Jerry, what do you think of it?&rdquo; Sandy
+asked his friend, as he cast a proud eye along
+the sleekly shaped length of the little sloop.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not &lsquo;it,&rsquo;&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;You should say &lsquo;her.&rsquo;
+You always call boats &lsquo;she&rsquo; or &lsquo;her,&rsquo; though I&rsquo;ve
+never met a sailor who could tell you why.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jerry looked critically down the twenty-four-foot
+length of the sloop. &ldquo;She looks really seaworthy,&rdquo;
+he said, &ldquo;and she looks pretty fast, too.
+Of course, this is not a racing boat, you know.
+They use this kind mostly for day sailing and for
+short cruises. Even so, she looks as if she&rsquo;ll go. Of
+course, we can&rsquo;t really tell until we&rsquo;ve tried her,
+and I don&rsquo;t think we&rsquo;ll be ready to try anything
+fast for a little while yet.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_34">34</div>
+<p>Noticing the flicker of disappointment that
+crossed Sandy&rsquo;s face, Jerry added, &ldquo;I&rsquo;d rather have
+a boat like this than any racing machine ever
+built. And I&rsquo;m not saying that just to make you
+feel better about not having a racer. There&rsquo;s not
+much difference in actual speed between a really
+fast boat and an ordinary good boat of the same
+size. But there sure is a lot of difference in comfort.
+And I like my comfort when I go for a cruise.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why should a racing boat be uncomfortable?&rdquo;
+Sandy asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s not uncomfortable for racing, or for day
+sailing,&rdquo; Jerry answered, &ldquo;but a racing boat of this
+size wouldn&rsquo;t be fitted out for cruising at all. You
+see, to get the most speed out of a boat, designers
+make sure that the hull is kept as light as possible
+and as streamlined as possible, too. A light hull
+will ride with less of its surface in the water, and
+that cuts down on the amount of friction. You
+remember what I told you about friction before?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_35">35</div>
+<p>Sandy nodded, and Jerry went on. &ldquo;Streamlining
+the hull shape helps it to cut through the
+water without making a lot of waves at the bow
+to hold it back. Not only that, but to make the
+boat really as fast as possible, most designers want
+to streamline the decks, too. That way, even the
+air resistance is lowered. Well, when you streamline
+the hull, you make less cabin space below.
+Then when you streamline the decks, you have to
+lower the cabin roof so that it&rsquo;s level with the
+decks. You can see that in a small boat like this,
+you wind up with no cabin at all.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I see,&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;But how does the lightness
+of the hull affect comfort? I&rsquo;m not so sure I understand
+that.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;When you have a light hull,&rdquo; Jerry replied,
+&ldquo;it&rsquo;s a good idea to keep it light. If you overload it,
+you lose the advantage you built into it in the first
+place. That means that you can&rsquo;t carry all the stuff
+we have on board to make for comfortable, safe
+cruising. Our bunks, the galley, the head, the
+spare anchor, all the tools and supplies&mdash;it adds
+up to a lot of weight. If you want a really fast boat,
+you have to leave all that stuff behind.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then if this were a racing boat,&rdquo; Sandy said,
+&ldquo;we wouldn&rsquo;t have anything more than a small
+cockpit and a lot of deck, with a little storage
+space! No wonder you said you&rsquo;d rather have a
+boat like this! But there&rsquo;s one thing I&rsquo;d still like
+to know. You said that there wasn&rsquo;t much difference
+in real speed between a racing boat and
+an ordinary good boat. How much is &lsquo;not much&rsquo;?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_36">36</div>
+<p>Jerry thought for a minute. &ldquo;Well&mdash;&rdquo; he said,
+at length&mdash;&ldquo;I&rsquo;d have to know a lot more about
+boat design than I know to give you an accurate
+answer, but I can give you a rough idea. This is
+a twenty-four-foot boat. If it were a racing hull,
+you might get eight and a half or maybe even
+nine knots out of it under ideal conditions. For
+practical purposes, you can figure eight or less. A
+knot, by the way, is a nautical mile, and it&rsquo;s a little
+more than a regular mile. When you say eight
+knots, you mean eight nautical miles an hour.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But that&rsquo;s not fast!&rdquo; Sandy objected. &ldquo;You said
+that&rsquo;s what a fast racing boat would do!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jerry smiled. &ldquo;Believe me, Sandy,&rdquo; he said,
+&ldquo;when your boat is heeling way over and your
+decks are awash and your sails are straining full
+of wind, it seems like an awful lot of speed! You&rsquo;ll
+see when we get out today. Besides, speed is all
+relative. A really dangerous speed on a bike would
+seem like a slow crawl in a car.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I guess you&rsquo;re right,&rdquo; Sandy answered. &ldquo;But
+you didn&rsquo;t tell me how fast this boat will go, compared
+to a racer.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_37">37</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I think we&rsquo;ll get five or six knots out of her,&rdquo;
+Jerry replied thoughtfully. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s not fast, but
+it&rsquo;s only a couple of knots slower than the fastest.
+You see now what I mean?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy nodded, then said, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m with you, Jerry.
+Now that I know a little bit about it, I sure think
+you&rsquo;re right. I&rsquo;d much rather have a boat we can
+sleep on and take on trips up and down the coast
+than a racer that doesn&rsquo;t even go so fast! Besides,
+I&rsquo;d be pretty foolish to think about any other
+kind of boat at all, wouldn&rsquo;t I? I don&rsquo;t even have
+the least idea of how to sail this one yet! Come on,
+Jerry, start showing me!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As Jerry carefully explained the different parts
+of the rigging, the complicated-looking series of
+wires and ropes around the mast began to look a
+whole lot simpler to Sandy. The first thing he
+learned was that not much of the rigging moved
+or was used for actual sailing of the boat. The
+parts that didn&rsquo;t move were called &ldquo;standing
+rigging,&rdquo; and if you eliminated them from your
+thoughts, it made the &ldquo;running rigging&rdquo; comparatively
+easy to understand.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_38">38</div>
+<p>&ldquo;You have to learn about the rigging first,&rdquo;
+Jerry said. &ldquo;The idea is simple enough. The
+standing rigging is used to support the mast and
+keep it from bending to either side or to the front
+or back when the sails start to put pressure on it.
+The standing rigging is every line or cable you see
+that comes from the top of the mast or near it
+down to the outer edge of the deck or to the bow
+or stern.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy looked about the little sloop, and noticed
+that this seemed to take care of more than half of
+what he saw.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The running rigging,&rdquo; Jerry went on, &ldquo;is used
+to raise and lower the sails and to control their
+position to catch the wind when you&rsquo;re sailing.
+The lines that are used to raise and lower the
+sails on the mast are called halyards. They work
+just like the ropes on a flagpole. The other kind
+of running rigging&mdash;the lines used to control the
+way the sails set&mdash;are called sheets. You&rsquo;d think
+that a sheet was a sail, wouldn&rsquo;t you? It isn&rsquo;t,
+though. It&rsquo;s the line that controls a sail.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think I understand so far,&rdquo; Sandy said, &ldquo;but
+don&rsquo;t you think it would be easier for me to learn
+if we went out for a sail and I could see everything
+working?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Right,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s just what I was
+going to say next. Telling you this way makes me
+feel too much like a schoolteacher!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_39">39</div>
+<p>Jerry decided that it would not be a good idea
+to try to sail away from the dock, because the
+part of the harbor they were in was so crowded.
+There would be little room to maneuver with
+only the light morning winds to help them. The
+best thing to do, he concluded, was to move the
+boat to a less crowded part of the harbor. At the
+same time, he would teach Sandy the way to get
+away from a mooring. In order to do all this,
+Jerry explained, they would row out in the dinghy,
+towing the sloop behind them. Once out in open
+water, they would tie the dinghy behind them and
+pull it along as they sailed.</p>
+<p>Together they unlashed the dinghy, which was
+resting on chocks on the cabin roof. Light and
+easy to handle, the dinghy was no trouble at all to
+launch, and in a minute it was floating alongside,
+looking like a cross between a canoe and a light-weight
+bathtub.</p>
+<p>Getting into the dinghy carefully, so as not to
+upset its delicate balance, they untied the sloop
+from the dock. Then they fastened the bow line of
+the sloop to a ring on the stern of the dinghy, got
+out the stubby oars and started to row.</p>
+<p>At first, it took some strong pulling at the oars
+to start the sailboat moving away from the dock,
+and Sandy feared that they would tip over the frail
+cockleshell of the dinghy. But once the sloop
+started to move, Sandy found that it took surprisingly
+little effort to tow it along. It glided easily
+behind them, its tall mast swaying overhead, as
+they rowed slowly out into the waters of Cliffport Bay.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_40">40</div>
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll find an empty mooring, and tie up for
+a few minutes,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think that
+anyone will mind. I want to show you the method
+we&rsquo;ll use most of the time for getting under way.&rdquo;
+He pointed to the anchorage area, or &ldquo;holding
+ground,&rdquo; as it was called, and Sandy noticed
+several blocks of painted wood floating about.
+They had numbers, and some had small flags on
+them. &ldquo;Those are moorings,&rdquo; Jerry explained.
+&ldquo;They&rsquo;re just permanent anchors, with floats to
+mark the spot and to hold up the end of the mooring
+line. Every boat owner has his own mooring to
+come in to. The people who own these empty
+moorings are probably out sailing for the day, and
+we won&rsquo;t interfere if we use one for a while.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Easing back on the oars, they let the sloop lose
+momentum and came to a natural stop near one
+of the moorings. They transferred the bow line
+from the dinghy to the mooring and made the
+sloop fast in its temporary berth. Then they
+climbed back on board and tied the dinghy behind
+them. Jerry explained that a long enough scope
+of line should be left for the dinghy so as to keep it
+from riding up and overtaking the sloop, as accidents
+of this sort have been known to damage
+the bow of a fragile dinghy.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_41">41</div>
+<p>This done, Jerry busied himself by unlashing
+the boom and the rudder to get them ready to use,
+while Sandy went below for the sail bags. These
+were neatly stacked in a forward locker, each one
+marked with the name of the type of sail it
+contained. He selected the ones marked &ldquo;main&rdquo;
+and &ldquo;jib,&rdquo; as Jerry had asked him to, and brought
+them out into the cockpit.</p>
+<p>Making the mainsail ready to hoist, Sandy
+quickly got the knack of threading the sail slides
+onto the tracks on the mast and the boom. He
+worked at this while Jerry made the necessary adjustments
+to the halyards and fastened them to the
+heads of the sails. When this job was done, Sandy
+slid the foot of the sail aft along the boom, and
+Jerry made it fast with a block-and-tackle arrangement
+which was called the &ldquo;clew outhaul.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; Jerry said, when they had finished, &ldquo;it&rsquo;s
+time to hoist the mainsail!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What about the mooring?&rdquo; Sandy asked.
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you want me to untie the boat from it
+first?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not yet,&rdquo; Jerry answered. &ldquo;We won&rsquo;t do that
+until we&rsquo;re ready to go.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_42">42</div>
+<p>&ldquo;But won&rsquo;t we start going as soon as we pull up
+the mainsail?&rdquo; said Sandy, puzzled.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;Nothing will happen when
+we hoist the sail. It&rsquo;s like raising a flag. The flag
+doesn&rsquo;t fill with wind and pull at the flagpole
+like a sail, does it? It just points into the wind and
+flutters. That&rsquo;s just what the mainsail will do.
+You see, the boat is already pointing into the
+wind, because the wind has swung us around on
+the mooring. You look around and you&rsquo;ll see that
+all the boats out here are heading in the exact
+same direction, toward the wind. When we hoist
+the sail, it&rsquo;ll act just like a flag, and flap around
+until we&rsquo;re ready to use it. Then we&rsquo;ll make it do
+what we want it to by using the jib and controlling
+its position with the sheets. Look.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jerry hauled on the main halyard, and the sail
+slid up its tracks on the mast, squeaking and
+grating. As it reached the masthead, it fluttered
+and bellied loosely in the wind, doing nothing to
+make the boat move in any direction. Motioning
+to Sandy to take his place tugging at the halyard,
+Jerry jumped down into the cockpit.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_43">43</div>
+<p>The halyard ran from the pointed head of the
+sail up through a pulley at the top of the mast,
+then down to where Sandy was hauling on it.
+Below his hands, it passed through another pulley
+near Sandy&rsquo;s feet, then back along the cabin roof.
+Jerry, from his position in the cockpit, grabbed
+the end of the halyard and hauled tight, taking the
+strain from Sandy. Then he tied it down to a wing-shaped
+cleat on the cabin roof near the cockpit.</p>
+<p>This was done with a few expert flips of the
+wrist. The mainsail was up, and tightly secured.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;Now we&rsquo;re almost ready.
+We won&rsquo;t move at all until we get the jib up, and
+even then we won&rsquo;t move unless we want to.
+When we want to, we&rsquo;ll untie from the mooring
+and get away as neat as you please.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They then took the jib out of its sail bag and
+made ready to hoist it. Instead of securing to the
+mast with slides on a track the way the mainsail
+had, the jib had a series of snaps stitched to its forward
+edge. These were snapped around the steel
+wire forestay, a part of the standing rigging that
+ran from the bow of the boat to a position high
+up on the mast. The jib halyard was fastened to
+the head of the jib, the snaps were put in place,
+and a few seconds of work saw the jib hanging in
+place, flapping before the mast. Then Jerry asked
+Sandy to pick up the mooring that they had tied
+to, and to walk aft with it.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_44">44</div>
+<p>&ldquo;When you walk aft with the mooring,&rdquo; Jerry
+explained, &ldquo;you actually put some forward motion
+on the boat. Then, when you get aft and I tell you
+to throw the mooring over, you put the bow a
+little off the wind by doing it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy untied the bow line from the mooring,
+and walked to the stern of the boat, holding the
+mooring float as he had been told. Then, when
+Jerry said &ldquo;Now!&rdquo; he threw the mooring over
+with a splash.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;With the jib flying and the boat free from the
+mooring and no longer pointing directly into the
+wind,&rdquo; Jerry said, &ldquo;the wind will catch the jib
+and blow our bow even further off. At the same
+time, I&rsquo;ll steer to the side instead of straight ahead.
+As soon as our bow is pointing enough away from
+the wind, the breeze will strike our sails from one
+side, and they&rsquo;ll start to fill. When the sails have
+caught the wind right, I&rsquo;ll ease off on the rudder,
+and we&rsquo;ll be moving ahead.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>By this time, the morning haze had &ldquo;burned
+off&rdquo; and the light breeze had freshened into a
+crisp, steady wind. As the head of the little sloop
+&ldquo;fell away&rdquo; from the direction from which the
+wind was coming, the sails swelled, the boat
+leaned slightly to one side, and a ripple of waves
+splashed alongside the hull. Sandy looked back
+and saw that the bow of the dinghy, trailing behind
+them, was beginning to cut a small white
+wave through the water.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_45">45</div>
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;re under way!&rdquo; Jerry cried. &ldquo;Come on over
+here, skipper! You take the tiller and learn how
+to steer your boat while I handle the sails and
+show you what to do!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy slid over on the stern seat to take Jerry&rsquo;s
+place, and held the tiller in the position he had
+been shown, while Jerry explained how to trim
+the sails and how to go where you wanted to go
+instead of where the wind wanted to take you.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll take care of the sail trimming,&rdquo; Jerry said.
+&ldquo;All you have to do is keep the boat heading on
+the course she&rsquo;s sailing now. The wind is pretty
+much at our backs and off to the starboard side.
+You have to keep it that way, and especially keep
+the stern from swinging around to face the wind
+directly. It&rsquo;s not hard to do. Just pick a landmark
+and steer toward it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He looked ahead to where a point of land jutted
+out some miles off the mainland. A lighthouse
+tower made an exclamation mark against the sky.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Just steer a little to the right of that,&rdquo; he said,
+&ldquo;and we can&rsquo;t go wrong.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What if the wind shifts?&rdquo; Sandy asked. &ldquo;How
+can we tell?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_46">46</div>
+<p>Jerry pointed to the masthead, where a small
+triangular metal flag swung. &ldquo;Just keep an eye on
+that,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s called a hawk, and it&rsquo;s a sailor&rsquo;s
+weathervane.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;With one eye on the lighthouse and one eye on
+the masthead,&rdquo; Sandy laughed, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to look
+awfully silly!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He leaned back in the stern seat with the tiller
+tucked under his arm. The little sloop headed
+steadily for the lighthouse, steering easily. Every
+few seconds, Sandy glanced at the hawk to check
+the wind. He grinned and relaxed. He was steering
+his own boat! The sail towered tall and white
+against the blue sky above him and the water
+gurgled alongside and in the wake behind where
+the dinghy bobbed along like a faithful puppy.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This is the life!&rdquo; he sighed.</p>
+<p>Jerry pointed out a handsome, white-hulled,
+two-masted boat approaching them. &ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t that a
+beauty?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a ketch. On a ketch, the
+mainmast is taller than the mizzen. That&rsquo;s how
+you tell the difference.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How do you tell the difference between the
+mainmast and the mizzen?&rdquo; Sandy asked. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re
+going to have to start with the simplest stuff with
+me.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_47">47</div>
+<p>&ldquo;The mainmast is always the one in front, and
+the mizzen is always the one aft,&rdquo; Jerry explained.
+&ldquo;A ketch has a taller main; a schooner has a taller
+mizzen; a yawl is the same as a ketch, except that
+the mizzen is set aft of the tiller. Got it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy shook his head and wondered if he would
+ever get all of this straight in his head. It was
+enough trying to learn the names of things on his
+own boat without worrying about the names of
+everything on other boats in the bay.</p>
+<p>As the ketch sailed by, the man at her tiller
+waved a friendly greeting. The boys waved back
+and Sandy watched the big ketch go smoothly
+past, wondering how much harder it might be to
+sail a two-masted boat of that size than it was to
+sail a relatively small sloop such as his own.
+Certainly it could not be as simple as the sloop,
+he thought. Why this little sailboat was a whole
+lot easier than it had seemed to be at first. As a
+matter of fact....</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Duck your head!&rdquo; Jerry yelled.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_48">48</div>
+<p>Not even stopping to think, Sandy dropped his
+head just in time to avoid being hit by the boom,
+which whizzed past barely a few inches above him!
+With a sharp crack of ropes and canvas, the sail
+filled with wind on the opposite side of the boat
+from where it had been a moment before, and
+the sloop heeled violently in the same direction.
+Jerry grabbed at the tiller, hauled in rapidly on
+the mainsheet, and set a new course. Then, calming
+down, he explained to Sandy what had
+happened.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We jibed,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;That means that you let
+the wind get directly behind us and then on the
+wrong side of us. The mainsail got the wind on
+the back of it, and the wind took it around to the
+other side of the boat. Because the sheets were let
+out all the way, there was nothing to restrain the
+sail from moving, and by the time it got over,
+it was going at a pretty fast clip. You saw the results!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jerry adjusted the mainsail to a better position
+relative to the wind, trimming it carefully to keep
+it from bagging, then he went on to explain. &ldquo;A
+jibe can only happen when you&rsquo;ve got the wind at
+your back. That&rsquo;s called sailing downwind, or
+sailing before the wind, or running free. It&rsquo;s the
+most dangerous point of sail, because of the chance
+of jibing. When the wind is strong, an uncontrolled
+jibe like the one we just took can split
+your sails, or ruin your rigging, or even snap
+your boom or your mast. Not to mention giving
+you a real bad headache if you&rsquo;re in the way of
+that boom!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_49">49</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I can just imagine,&rdquo; Sandy said, thinking of
+the force with which the boom had whizzed by.
+Then he added, &ldquo;You said something about an
+&lsquo;uncontrolled jibe,&rsquo; I think. Does that mean that
+there&rsquo;s some way to control it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I should have said an accidental jibe instead of
+an uncontrolled one,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;A deliberate
+or planned jibe is always controlled, and it&rsquo;s a
+perfectly safe and easy maneuver. All you have to
+do is to haul in on the sheet, so that the boom
+won&rsquo;t have any room for free swinging. Then you
+change your course to the new tack, let out the
+sail, and you&rsquo;re off with no trouble.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy grinned. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid that description
+went over my head as fast as the boom did&mdash;only
+a whole lot higher up!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Things always sound complicated when you
+describe them,&rdquo; Jerry said, &ldquo;but we&rsquo;ll do a couple
+later, and you&rsquo;ll see how it works.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Fine,&rdquo; Sandy agreed. &ldquo;But until we do, how
+can I keep from doing any more of the accidental
+variety?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_50">50</div>
+<p>&ldquo;The only way to avoid jibing,&rdquo; Jerry replied,
+&ldquo;is never to let the wind blow from the same side
+that the sail is set on. This means that if you feel
+the wind shift over that way, you have to alter
+your course quickly to compensate for it. If you
+don&rsquo;t want to alter your course, then you have to
+do a deliberate jibe and alter the direction of the
+sail. All it means is that you have to keep alert at
+the tiller, and keep an eye on the hawk, the way
+I told you, so that you always know which direction
+the wind is blowing from.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I guess I was getting too much confidence a lot
+too soon,&rdquo; Sandy admitted, shamefaced. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s
+obviously a lot more to this sailing business than
+I was beginning to think. Anyway, a jibe is one
+thing I won&rsquo;t let happen again. I&rsquo;ll stop looking at
+other boats for a while, and pay more attention to
+this one! There&rsquo;s more than enough to look at
+here, I guess.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Once more, Sandy cautiously took the tiller
+from Jerry. Then he grinned ruefully and said,
+&ldquo;Just do me one favor, will you, Jerry?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sure. What?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Just don&rsquo;t call me &lsquo;skipper&rsquo; any more. Not for
+a while, at least!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_51">51</div>
+<h2 id="c4"><span class="small">CHAPTER FOUR</span>
+<br />The Man with the Gun</h2>
+<p>&ldquo;Just keep her sailing on this downwind course,&rdquo;
+Jerry said. &ldquo;Head for that lighthouse the way you
+were before, and keep an occasional eye on the
+hawk. As long as the wind isn&rsquo;t dead astern, we
+shouldn&rsquo;t have any more jibing troubles. As soon
+as we get out into open water, we&rsquo;ll find an easier
+point of sail. We can&rsquo;t do that until we&rsquo;re clear of
+the channel, though. When we are, we&rsquo;ll reach for
+a while, and then I&rsquo;ll show you how to beat.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s reaching?&rdquo; Sandy asked. &ldquo;And what&rsquo;s
+beating? And how do you know when we&rsquo;re out of
+the channel into open water? And how do you
+even know for sure that we&rsquo;re in the channel
+now? And how....&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_52">52</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Whoa! Wait a minute! Let&rsquo;s take one question
+at a time. A reach is when you&rsquo;re sailing with the
+wind coming more from the side than from in front
+or from behind the boat. Beating is when the wind
+is more in front than on the side, and you have to
+sail into it. Beating is more like work than fun,
+but a reach is the fastest and easiest kind of a
+course to sail. That&rsquo;s why I want to reach as soon
+as we&rsquo;re out in open water where we can pick our
+direction without having to worry about channel
+markers.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How come reaching is the fastest kind of
+course to sail?&rdquo; Sandy asked. &ldquo;I would have
+guessed that sailing downwind with the wind
+pushing the boat ahead of it would be the fastest.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It sure seems as if it ought to work that way,&rdquo;
+Jerry said with a grin. &ldquo;But you&rsquo;ll find that sailboat
+logic isn&rsquo;t always so simple or easy. When
+you&rsquo;re running free in front of the wind, you
+can only go as fast as the wind is blowing. When
+you&rsquo;re reaching, you can actually sail a lot faster
+than the wind.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid that I don&rsquo;t understand that,&rdquo; Sandy
+said. &ldquo;How does it work?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_53">53</div>
+<p>Jerry paused and thought for a minute. &ldquo;You
+remember what Quiz said about the sailboat
+working like an airplane? Well, he made it sound
+pretty tough to understand, what with all his
+formulas and proportions, but actually he was
+right. A sail is a lot like an airplane wing, except
+that it&rsquo;s standing up on end instead of sticking out
+to one side. Well, you know that the propellers
+on a plane make wind, and that the plane flies
+straight into that wind. You see, the wind that
+comes across the wing makes a vacuum on top of
+the wing surface, and the plane is drawn up into
+the vacuum. You get a lot more lift that way than
+if the propellers were under the wing and blowing
+straight up on the bottom of it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I see that,&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;And a propeller blowing
+under a wing would be pretty much the same
+as a wind blowing at the back of a sail. Right?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Right!&rdquo; Jerry said, looking pleased with his
+teaching ability. &ldquo;Now you have the idea. When
+you have a sail, like a wing standing up, the air
+that passes over the sail makes a vacuum in front
+and pulls the boat forward into it. Actually, the
+vacuum pulls us forward and to one side, the same
+as the wind from the propeller makes the plane go
+forward and up. We use the rudder and the keel
+to keep us going more straight than sideways.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_54">54</div>
+<p>Sandy shook his head as if to clear away cobwebs.
+&ldquo;I think that I understand now, but it&rsquo;s
+still a little hazy in my mind. Maybe I&rsquo;ll do better
+if you don&rsquo;t tell me about the theory, and I just
+see the way it works.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Could be,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;There are lots of old-time
+fishermen and other fine sailors who have
+absolutely no idea of how their boats work, and
+who wouldn&rsquo;t know a law of physics or a principle
+of aerodynamics if it sat on their mastheads and
+yelled at them like a sea gull! They just do what
+comes naturally, and they know the way to handle
+a boat without worrying about what makes it
+run.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Still heading on their downwind course, they
+passed several small islands and rocks, some
+marked with lights and towers, some with bells
+or floating buoys. They seemed to slide by gracefully
+as the little sloop left the mainland farther
+behind in its wake.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Before we get out of the channel,&rdquo; Jerry said,
+&ldquo;I want to show you some of the channel markers
+and tell you about how to read them. They&rsquo;re the
+road signs of the harbors, and if you know what
+they mean and what to do about them, you&rsquo;ll
+never get in any trouble when it comes to finding
+your way in and out of a port.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_55">55</div>
+<p>He pointed to a nearby marker that was shaped
+like a pointed rocket nose cone floating in the
+water. It was painted a bright red, and on its side
+in white was painted a large number 4.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s called a nun buoy,&rdquo; Jerry told Sandy.
+&ldquo;Now look over there. Do you see that black buoy
+shaped just like an oversized tin can? That&rsquo;s called
+a can buoy. The cans and the nuns mark the
+limits of the channel, and they tell you to steer
+between them. The rule is, when you&rsquo;re leaving
+a harbor, to keep the red nun buoys on your port
+side. That&rsquo;s the left side. When you&rsquo;re entering
+a harbor, keep the red nun buoys on your starboard
+side. The best way to remember it is by the
+three R&rsquo;s of offshore navigating: &lsquo;Red Right Returning.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy nodded. &ldquo;I understand that all right,&rdquo;
+he said. &ldquo;But what are the numbers for?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The numbers are to tell you how far from the
+harbor you are,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;Red nun buoys are
+always even-numbered, and black cans are always
+odd-numbered. They run in regular sequence,
+and they start from the farthest buoy out from
+the shore. For example, we just sailed past red nun
+buoy number 4. That means that the next can we
+see will be marked number 3, and it will be
+followed by a number 2 nun and a number 1 can.
+After we pass the number 1 can, we&rsquo;ll be completely
+out of the channel, and we&rsquo;ll have open
+water to sail in.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_56">56</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Do they have the same kind of markers everywhere,&rdquo;
+Sandy asked, &ldquo;or do you have to learn
+them specially for each port that you sail in?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll find the same marks in almost every
+place in the world,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;But you won&rsquo;t
+have to worry about the world for a long while.
+The important thing is that the marking and
+buoyage system is the same exact standard for
+every port in the United States and Canada.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s that striped can I see floating over
+there?&rdquo; Sandy asked, pointing.</p>
+<p>Jerry looked at the buoy. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s a special
+marker,&rdquo; he answered. &ldquo;All of the striped buoys
+have some special meaning, and it&rsquo;s usually
+marked on the charts. They&rsquo;re mostly used to
+mark a junction of two channels, or a middle
+ground, or an obstruction of some kind. You can
+sail to either side of them, but you shouldn&rsquo;t go
+too close. At least that&rsquo;s the rule for the horizontally
+striped ones. The markers with vertical
+stripes show the middle of the channel, and you&rsquo;re
+supposed to pass them as close as you can, on
+either side.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_57">57</div>
+<p>Another few minutes of sailing brought them
+past the last red buoy, and they were clear of the
+marked channel. From here on they were free to
+sail as they wanted, in any direction they chose to
+try.</p>
+<p>For the next hour they practiced reaching.
+With the wind blowing steadily from the starboard
+side, the trim sloop leaned far to the port
+until the waves were creaming almost up to the
+level of the deck. Jerry explained that this leaning
+position, called &ldquo;heeling,&rdquo; was the natural and
+proper way for a sailboat to sit in the water. The
+only way that a boat could sail level, he pointed
+out, was before the wind. With the boat heeling
+sharply and the sails and the rigging pulled tight
+in the brisk breeze, Sandy really began to feel the
+sense of speed on the water, and understood what
+Jerry had told him about speed being relative.</p>
+<p>After they had practiced on a few long reaches,
+Jerry showed Sandy how to beat or point, which
+is the art of sailing more or less straight into the
+wind.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Of course you can&rsquo;t ever sail straight into the
+wind,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;The best you can do is come
+close. If you head right into it, the sails will just
+flap around the way that they did when we were
+pointing into the wind at the mooring. You&rsquo;ve got
+to sail a little to one side.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_58">58</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Suppose you don&rsquo;t want to go to one side?&rdquo;
+Sandy asked. &ldquo;If the wind is blowing straight from
+the place you want to get to, what do you do
+about it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have to compromise,&rdquo; Jerry replied.
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll never get there by aiming the boat in that
+direction. What you have to do is sail for a point
+to one side of it for a while, then come about and
+sail for a point on the other side of it for a while.
+It&rsquo;s a kind of long zigzag course. You call it tacking.
+Each leg of the zigzag is called a tack.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sailing into the wind, they tacked first on one
+side, then on the other. Each time they came
+about onto a new tack, the mainsail was shifted to
+the other side of the boat, and the boat heeled in
+the same direction as the sail. The jib came
+about by itself, just by loosening one sheet and
+taking up on the other one. Soon Sandy was used
+to the continual shifting and resetting of the sails,
+and to the boom passing back and forth overhead.</p>
+<p>Suddenly Sandy pointed and clapped Jerry on
+the shoulder with excitement. &ldquo;Look!&rdquo; he cried.
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s a whole fleet of boats coming this way!
+They look just like ours! And they&rsquo;re racing!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_59">59</div>
+<p>Jerry looked up in surprise. &ldquo;They sure are
+racing! And they are just like this one! I guess I
+was wrong when I said they didn&rsquo;t race this kind
+of boat. This must be a local class, built to specifications
+for local race rules. Boy, look at them go!
+I was wrong about not racing them, but I sure was
+right when I said that she looked fast!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The fleet of sloops swept past, heeling sharply
+to one side, with the crews perched on the high
+sides as live ballast, and the water foaming white
+along the low decks which were washed over completely
+every moment or so. The helmsmen on the
+nearest of the boats grinned at them and waved
+an invitation to come along and join the regatta,
+but neither Jerry nor Sandy felt quite up to sailing
+a race just yet.</p>
+<p>As they watched their white-sailed sisters fly
+down the bay, Sandy felt for the first time the excitement
+that could come from handling a boat
+really well. He turned to his own trim craft with
+renewed determination to learn everything that
+Jerry could teach him, and maybe, in due time,
+a whole lot more than that.</p>
+<p>The next few hours were spent in happily exploring
+Cliffport Bay and trying the sloop on a
+variety of tacks and courses to learn what she
+would do. Eventually, the sun standing high above
+the mast, they realized almost at the same time
+that it was definitely time for lunch.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_60">60</div>
+<p>Jerry took the helm and the sheet while Sandy
+went below to see what the boat&rsquo;s food locker
+could supply. In a few minutes, he poked his head
+out of the cabin hatch and shook it sadly at Jerry.
+&ldquo;It looks as if Uncle Russ didn&rsquo;t think of everything,
+after all. There&rsquo;s plenty of food all right,
+but there&rsquo;s not a thing on board to drink. The
+water jugs are here, but they&rsquo;re bone-dry, and I&rsquo;m
+not exactly up to eating peanut butter sandwiches
+without something to wash them down!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Me either!&rdquo; said Jerry, shuddering a little at
+the thought. &ldquo;Of course, we could settle on some
+of the juice from the canned fruits I saw in there,
+but we haven&rsquo;t taken on any ice for our ice chest,
+and that&rsquo;s all going to be pretty warm. In any
+case, we ought to have some water on board. I
+think we&rsquo;d better look for a likely place near
+shore where we can drop anchor. Then we can
+take the dinghy in to one of the beach houses and
+fill up our jugs.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good idea,&rdquo; Sandy agreed. &ldquo;And that way we
+can eat while we&rsquo;re at anchor, and not have to
+worry about sailing and eating at the same time.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_61">61</div>
+<p>Several small islands not too far away had
+houses on them, and the boys decided to set a
+course for the nearest one. As they drew near,
+they saw a sunny white house sitting on the crest
+of a small rise about a hundred yards back from
+the water. Below the house, a well-protected and
+pleasant-looking cove offered a good place for an
+anchorage. A floating dock was secured to a high
+stone pier, from which a path could be seen leading
+up to the house. It looked like an almost perfect
+summer place, set in broad green lawns, with
+several old shade trees near the house and with a
+general atmosphere of well-being radiating from
+everything.</p>
+<p>They glided straight into the little cove, then
+suddenly put the rudder over hard and brought
+the sloop sharply up into the wind. The sails
+flapped loosely, and the boat lost some of its headway,
+then glided slowly to a stop.</p>
+<p>On the bow, Sandy stood ready with the anchor,
+waiting for Jerry to tell him when to lower it. As
+the boat began to move a little astern, backing in
+the headwind, Jerry told Sandy to let the anchor
+down slowly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You never drop an anchor, or throw it over the
+side. After all, you want the anchor to tip over,
+and to drive a hook into the bottom. It won&rsquo;t do
+that if it&rsquo;s just dropped.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_62">62</div>
+<p>When Sandy felt the anchor touch the bottom,
+he pulled back gently on the anchor line until he
+felt the hook take hold. Then, leading the line
+through the fair lead at the bow, he tied it securely
+to a cleat on the deck.</p>
+<p>Loosening the halyards, they dropped first the
+jib and then the mainsail, rolled them neatly, and
+secured them with strips of sailcloth, called stops.
+Jerry pointed out that it was not necessary to
+remove the slides and snaps. That way, he explained,
+it would only be a matter of minutes to
+get under way when they wanted to. With the last
+stop tied and the boom and the rudder lashed to
+keep them from swinging, the sloop was all shipshape
+at anchor, rocking gently on the swell about
+fifty yards from the end of the floating dock.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s row the dinghy in to the dock and see if
+we can find somebody on shore,&rdquo; Jerry suggested.
+&ldquo;Of course, with no boats in here, there might not
+be anyone on the island right now, but I think
+that I saw a well up by the house, and I&rsquo;m sure
+that no one would mind if we helped ourselves to
+a little water.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_63">63</div>
+<p>But Jerry was wrong on both counts. There
+was somebody on the island, and he looked far
+from hospitable. In fact, the tall man who came
+striding down the path to the float where the
+boys already had the dinghy headed was carrying a
+rifle&mdash;and, what was more, he looked perfectly
+ready to use it at any minute!</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Turn back!&rdquo; he shouted, as he reached the
+edge of the stone pier. &ldquo;Turn back, I tell you,
+or I&rsquo;ll shoot that dinghy full of holes and sink it
+right out from under you!&rdquo; He raised the rifle
+deliberately to his shoulder and sighted down its
+length at the boys.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Wait a minute!&rdquo; Sandy shouted back. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re
+making a mistake! We just need to get some water
+to drink! We don&rsquo;t mean any harm!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The man lowered his rifle, but looked no
+friendlier than before. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t care what you
+want,&rdquo; he called, &ldquo;but you can just sail off and get
+it some other place! This is my island and my
+cove. They&rsquo;re both private property, and you&rsquo;re
+trespassing here! Now turn that dinghy around
+and get back to your sailboat and go!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This speech finished, he raised his rifle to the
+firing position once more and aimed it at the
+dinghy.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_64">64</div>
+<p>&ldquo;All right, mister!&rdquo; Jerry yelled back at him.
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll get going! But when we get back to the
+mainland, you can bet that we&rsquo;re going to report
+you to the Coast Guard for your failure to give
+assistance! I&rsquo;m not sure what they can do about it,
+but they sure ought to know that there&rsquo;s a character
+like you around here! Maybe they&rsquo;ll mark it
+on the charts, so that sailors in trouble won&rsquo;t waste
+their time coming in here for help!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As the boys started to turn the dinghy about,
+they heard a shout from the man on the pier.
+&ldquo;Wait a minute!&rdquo; he called. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s no need to
+get so upset. I&rsquo;m sorry&mdash;but I guess I made a mistake
+after all. Row on in to the float and I&rsquo;ll get
+you some water.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Not at all sure that they were doing the wisest
+thing, but not wanting to anger the strange rifleman
+by not doing what he had suggested, they
+decided to risk coming to shore. After all, Sandy
+reasoned, he hadn&rsquo;t actually threatened to shoot
+<i>them</i>&mdash;just the dinghy&mdash;and he couldn&rsquo;t do much
+more harm from close up than from where they
+were. Besides, both boys were curious about the
+man and his island. They rowed to the floating
+dock and made the dinghy fast to a cleat.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_65">65</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry, boys,&rdquo; the man with the rifle said
+pleasantly. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s just that I&rsquo;ve been bothered in
+the past by kids landing here for picnics and
+swimming parties when I&rsquo;m not here. They leave
+the beach a mess, and one gang actually broke
+into the house once, and stole some things. That&rsquo;s
+why I don&rsquo;t like kids coming around. I thought
+you were more of the same, but I figured you were
+all right when you said that you&rsquo;d report to the
+Coast Guard. Those other kids stay as far away
+from the Coast Guard and the Harbor Police as
+they can.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He smiled apologetically, but as Sandy started
+to climb up from the dinghy to the floating dock,
+his expression hardened once more.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I said that I&rsquo;d get you some water,&rdquo; he said,
+&ldquo;but I didn&rsquo;t invite you to come ashore and help
+yourselves to it. You just stay right where you are
+in that dinghy, and hand me up your water jars.
+I&rsquo;ll fill them up for you, and I&rsquo;ll be back in a few
+minutes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>More than a little puzzled, Jerry and Sandy
+handed up their two soft plastic gallon jugs. Their
+&ldquo;host&rdquo; took them under one arm, leaving the
+other hand free for his rifle which he carried with
+a finger lying alongside of the trigger. Without a
+word, the island&rsquo;s owner walked off.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I wonder what&rsquo;s the matter with him,&rdquo; Jerry
+said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; Sandy replied, &ldquo;but whatever
+it is, we&rsquo;d better do what he says, or something
+pretty bad might be the matter with us!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Halfway up the path to the house, the tall
+man stopped, turned back, and looked hard at
+the boys before continuing on up the hill.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_66">66</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Mind you do just what I said!&rdquo; he shouted
+back over his shoulder. &ldquo;You just stay in that
+dinghy, and don&rsquo;t get any fancy ideas about exploring
+around. If I find you ashore, I&rsquo;m still as
+ready as ever to use this gun!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_67">67</div>
+<h2 id="c5"><span class="small">CHAPTER FIVE</span>
+<br />Storm Fears</h2>
+<p>Unpredictable as the wind, the man was all
+smiles when he returned with the two jars filled
+with water. But he still had his gun.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m glad to see you stayed put in your dinghy,&rdquo;
+he said. &ldquo;I kept an eye on you from the hill.&rdquo; He
+handed down the plastic jugs to Sandy and added,
+&ldquo;Sorry I acted so gruff, but you know how it is.
+I live all alone out here, and even though the
+island is only a little over a half mile from the
+mainland it&rsquo;s a pretty isolated spot. I have to be
+careful of strangers. But I should have seen right
+away that you boys are all right.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thanks,&rdquo; said Sandy. &ldquo;And thanks for filling
+our water jugs. We&rsquo;re sorry we bothered you.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_68">68</div>
+<p>They cast the dinghy free, rowed quickly back
+to the sloop and, as fast as they could manage it,
+raised the anchor, hoisted the sails and skimmed
+out of the cove. As they rounded the rocky point
+that marked the entrance to the cove, they looked
+back to where the island&rsquo;s lone inhabitant was
+standing on the dock, watching them out of sight,
+his rifle still held ready at his hip.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Boy, that&rsquo;s a strange one!&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;I
+wonder what he&rsquo;s hiding on that island of his&mdash;a
+diamond mine?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You never can tell,&rdquo; Jerry replied, &ldquo;but it&rsquo;s
+probably nothing at all. I guess the kind of man
+who would want to live all alone on an island
+away from people is bound to be pretty crazy about
+getting all the privacy he can. And as far as I&rsquo;m
+concerned, he can have it. From now on, if we
+need anything, let&rsquo;s head for the mainland!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Dismissing the mysterious rifleman from their
+minds, they set out once more to enjoy the pleasures
+of a brisk wind, blue sky and a trim boat.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_69">69</div>
+<p>The afternoon went swiftly by as Sandy learned
+more and more about handling his boat, and about
+the boats they saw sailing near them. Jerry pointed
+out the different types of boats, explaining more
+fully than before that the ones with one mast were
+called sloops, the two-masted boats were called
+yawls, ketches and schooners. Telling one from the
+other was a matter of knowing the arrangement
+of masts. The ketches had tall mainmasts and
+shorter mizzens behind them. The yawls had even
+shorter mizzens, set as far aft as possible. Schooners,
+with taller mizzen than main, were relatively rare.</p>
+<p>Jerry also pointed to varied types of one-masted
+boats. Not all of them, he told Sandy, were
+sloops, though most were. The sloops had their
+mast stepped about one third back from the bow.
+Cutters had their mast stepped nearly in the center
+of the boat. In addition, they saw a few catboats,
+with their single masts stepped nearly in the bows.</p>
+<p>Learning all this, plus trying to absorb all
+that Jerry was telling him about harbor markers,
+sail handling, steering, types of sails and conditions
+under which each sail is used, Sandy found
+the time flying by. Almost before he realized it,
+the sun was beginning to set and the boats around
+them were all heading back up the channel to
+find their moorings and tie up for the night.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_70">70</div>
+<p>Everywhere they looked, the roadstead of Cliffport
+Bay was as busy as a highway. Sailboats of
+every description, outboard motorboats, big cabin
+cruisers, high-powered motor racers, rowboats,
+canoes, sailing canoes, kayaks, power runabouts,
+fishing excursion boats and dozens of other craft
+were making their way to shore.</p>
+<p>The afternoon, which had started so brightly,
+had become overcast, and the sun glowed sullenly
+behind a low bank of clouds. The breeze which
+had been steady but light during the late afternoon
+hours, suddenly picked up force and became
+a fairly hard wind. It felt cold and damp after the
+hot day. Joining the homebound pleasure fleet,
+Sandy and Jerry picked their way through the now
+crowded harbor, back to Cliffport Boat Yard.</p>
+<p>They arrived in a murky twilight, just a few
+minutes before the time when it would have become
+necessary for them to light the lanterns for
+the red and green running lights demanded by
+the International Rules of the Road.</p>
+<p>The boys decided to drop anchor in the boat
+yard&rsquo;s mooring area, rather than tow the boat back
+to the float where it had been tied. This would
+make it unnecessary to tow the sloop out again
+for the next day&rsquo;s sailing, when they would start
+on the long trip home.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_71">71</div>
+<p>They dropped the sails, removed their slides
+and snaps on mast, boom and forestay, and carefully
+folded them for replacement in the sail bags.
+These were stowed below in their locker just
+forward of the cabin. Then Sandy and Jerry
+turned their attention to getting the boat ready
+for the night.</p>
+<p>Sandy helped Jerry rest the boom in its
+&ldquo;crutch,&rdquo; a piece of wood shaped like the letter
+<i>Y</i>, which was placed standing upright in a slot
+in the stern seat. This kept the boom from swinging
+loose when the boat was unattended, and thus
+protected both the boat, the boom and the rigging
+from damage. All the running gear was then
+lashed down or coiled and put away, the sliding
+cabin door and hatch cover were closed in place,
+and the sloop was ready to be left.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s what&rsquo;s meant by &lsquo;shipshape,&rsquo;&rdquo; Jerry
+said with satisfaction.</p>
+<p>As the boys rowed the dinghy back to the float,
+they felt the first fat drops of rain and they
+noticed how choppy the still waters of the bay
+had become. Jerry cast a sailor&rsquo;s eye at the ominously
+darkening sky.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s more than evening coming on,&rdquo; he
+said. &ldquo;Unless I miss my guess, we&rsquo;re in for a good
+storm tonight. To tell you the truth, I&rsquo;m glad
+we&rsquo;re staying ashore!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_72">72</div>
+<p>They lifted the dinghy from the water, turned
+it over on the float and placed the stubby oars
+below it. Then, picking up their sea bags, they
+ran for the shelter of the shed as the first torrential
+downpour of the storm washed Cliffport in a solid
+sheet of blinding rain.</p>
+<p class="tb">Later that night, after a change of clothes,
+dinner, and a movie at Cliffport&rsquo;s only theater,
+the boys sat on their beds in the hotel room and
+listened to the howling fury of the storm. Raindrops
+rattled on the windowpanes like hailstones,
+and through the tossing branches of a tree they
+could see the riding lights of a few boats in the
+harbor, rocking violently to and fro. As they
+watched, the wind sent a large barrel bowling
+down the street to smash against a light pole,
+bounce off and roll, erratic as a kicked football,
+out of sight around a corner.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a good thing we anchored out,&rdquo; Jerry said,
+watching this evidence of the storm&rsquo;s power. &ldquo;The
+boat could really have gotten banged up against
+the float if we had tied it up where it was before!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you think it&rsquo;ll be safe where it is now?&rdquo;
+Sandy asked anxiously.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, a little wind and water won&rsquo;t bother a
+good boat,&rdquo; Jerry answered. &ldquo;After all, it was
+made for wind and water! Still....&rdquo; He scowled
+and shook his head doubtfully.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_73">73</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Still what?&rdquo; Sandy said with alarm. &ldquo;Is there
+something wrong with the way we left it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not really,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m just worried
+about one thing. We&rsquo;re not tied to a permanent
+mooring, the way the other boats around here
+are. That means that we might drag anchor in a
+storm as bad as this one, and if we happen to drag
+into deep water where the anchor can&rsquo;t reach the
+bottom, the boat could drift a long ways off until
+it hooked onto something again. And there&rsquo;s always
+the chance that it could get washed up on the
+rocks somewhere, first!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>With this unhappy thought in mind, the boys
+stared out the window for some time in silence
+as the storm continued unchecked. Finally, knowing
+that worry couldn&rsquo;t possibly help, and that a
+good night&rsquo;s sleep would prepare them to meet
+whatever the morning would bring, they turned
+out the lights and went to bed.</p>
+<p>But, for Sandy, bed was one thing&mdash;sleep was
+another. Although Jerry managed to drop off to
+slumber in no time, Sandy lay a long time awake
+staring at the shadows of the tossing tree on the
+ceiling of the hotel room.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_74">74</div>
+<p>His mind was full of the events of the crowded
+day. It had been quite a day, starting with the
+ride in his uncle&rsquo;s sports car, and proceeding to
+the new boat and learning to sail. Then the mysterious
+man on the island, keeping guard with his
+ever-present rifle, and concluding with a night
+of powerful storm. He reviewed all this, and mixed
+with his recollection his new worries about the
+safety of his boat. A series of images crowded his
+mind&mdash;a vision of the smart sloop lying smashed
+against some rocky piece of shore was mingled
+with a memory of the pleasures of his first day of
+sailing; and somewhere, behind and around all of
+his thoughts, was the unpleasantly frightening
+memory of the man with the gun, waiting on his
+hermit&rsquo;s island.</p>
+<p>All of this mingled in his mind with the sound
+of the storm until Sandy slipped into an uncertain,
+restless sleep&mdash;a sleep filled with vague, shadowy
+dreams, connected only by a sense that somewhere,
+something was wrong.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_75">75</div>
+<h2 id="c6"><span class="small">CHAPTER SIX</span>
+<br />Something Lost&mdash;Something Found!</h2>
+<p>The next morning, when Sandy and Jerry awoke,
+the storm that had lashed Cliffport had vanished
+as if it, too, had been a bad dream.</p>
+<p>Cliffport&rsquo;s Main Street, which fronted the bay,
+was washed clean, and sparkled in the bright
+morning light. The bay waters themselves even
+looked cleaner than before, freshly laundered
+blue and white, with silver points of sunlight
+sprinkled over their peaceful surface. It was, in
+short, a perfect sailing day, and the boys could
+hardly wait to get down to the boat yard to see if
+the sloop had ridden the storm at anchor.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_76">76</div>
+<p>They dressed hurriedly in their sailing clothes&mdash;blue
+jeans, sneakers and sweat shirts&mdash;and bolted
+breakfast in the hotel coffee shop. Then, sea bags
+slung over their shoulders, they raced down the
+street to the Cliffport Boat Yard, rounded the
+corner of the main shed and, at the head of the
+gangway, came to a stop.</p>
+<p>Sandy felt a sick, sinking feeling as he scanned
+the mooring area, searching vainly for a sight of
+his sloop. But where she had ridden at anchor the
+night before, there was only a patch of calm blue
+water.</p>
+<p>It hardly seemed possible that she wasn&rsquo;t there.
+The storm, on this bright, sunny morning, seemed
+never to have happened. Other boats rode peacefully
+at their moorings, apparently untouched by
+the night&rsquo;s wild work. Life in the boat yard and
+on the bay went on as if nothing had occurred. But
+Sandy felt as if it were the end of the world.</p>
+<p>Slowly and silently, the boys walked down the
+gangway to where their dinghy lay like a turtle,
+unharmed. They anxiously scanned the bay on
+all sides, searching for a mast that might be theirs,
+but to no avail. Then Jerry straightened up and
+clapped Sandy on the shoulder.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come on,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s no use standing
+here moping. The only thing to do now is to take
+out the dinghy and start to hunt.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_77">77</div>
+<p>They launched the dinghy, put out the stubby
+oars, and rowed away from the float.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where do we look first?&rdquo; Sandy asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll just go the way the wind went,&rdquo; Jerry
+said. &ldquo;Luckily, the storm came from the mainland
+and blew out to sea. That means there&rsquo;s a
+good chance that the boat didn&rsquo;t pile up on the
+shore. Of course, there are a lot of islands out
+there, and plenty of rocks, but there&rsquo;s a lot more
+open water. With any luck we&rsquo;ll find her floating
+safe and sound, somewhere out in the bay. I don&rsquo;t
+think she could have gone too far dragging that
+anchor.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They headed down the channel, taking occasional
+side excursions around some of the small
+islands whenever they saw, on the other side, a
+mast that could be theirs. But none of the boats
+they found was the right one. The hot sun made
+rowing even the light cockleshell of the dinghy
+unpleasant work. Sandy paused at the oars and
+pushed back his cowlick, then wiped his perspiring
+brow. He was beginning to fear that he would
+never again see his trim new sloop&mdash;unless he was
+to see it lying shattered on one of these rocky
+islands. Then, with dogged determination, he
+picked up his oars once more and bent his back
+to the task of rowing.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_78">78</div>
+<p>Once or twice they asked passing sailors if they
+had seen an unattended sloop out of the mooring
+areas, but though everyone offered sympathy and
+promised to help if they happened to see it, none
+had any information to offer.</p>
+<p>The morning wore on slowly as Sandy and Jerry
+pulled farther and farther away from the mainland,
+exploring every possible hiding place the
+bay had to offer.</p>
+<p>By noon, Sandy&rsquo;s spirits were at low ebb, and he
+was beginning to wonder how he would tell his
+Uncle Russ the bad news. Then, almost tipping
+the unsteady dinghy, Jerry half rose from his seat
+and pointed. &ldquo;Look!&rdquo; he shouted. &ldquo;Over there! I
+think that&rsquo;s her! And will you look at where she
+drifted to!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy dropped the oars and turned to look at
+the small white sloop with the green decks that
+lay quietly bobbing at anchor just outside the
+entrance of the cove where, yesterday, they had
+been welcomed by a gun!</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Of all places to drift to,&rdquo; he gasped. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a
+darn good thing she didn&rsquo;t drift inside his cove,
+or she might be shot full of holes by now!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_79">79</div>
+<p>Then, with a lighter heart than he had felt all
+morning, Sandy picked up the oars and sent the
+dinghy fairly flying to the side of the trim sloop.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;From now on,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;sleeping bags and air
+mattresses or not, we&rsquo;re sleeping on board until
+we get a permanent mooring for this boat near
+home!&rdquo; Relieved and happy, Sandy climbed on
+board as Jerry tied the dinghy to the stern.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll go below to get the sails out,&rdquo; Sandy said,
+&ldquo;while you unship the boom and get the rigging
+ready.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He opened the hatch cover and slid back the
+doors, then stepped down into the little cabin.
+As he started forward to the sail lockers, he had a
+sudden, odd feeling that something was wrong,
+something out of place; a strange notion that he
+had seen, out of the corner of his eye, something
+that was not what it should have been.</p>
+<p>Pausing to look around, he saw what had
+bothered him. Clamped to the bulkhead over the
+port bunk was a large, oddly shaped brass pistol,
+like the kind he had always imagined the old-time
+pirates carried. He had never seen anything like
+it before&mdash;and he was almost positive that it had
+not been there yesterday!</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_80">80</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Jerry!&rdquo; he called, sticking his head out of the
+hatch. &ldquo;Come here! I want you to see something
+and tell me what you think.&rdquo; As Jerry poked his
+head into the cabin, Sandy gestured at the brass
+pistol. &ldquo;Was that thing here yesterday, or have
+we gotten into somebody else&rsquo;s boat?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jerry brought his dark brows together in a
+frown and scratched his crew-cut head. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t
+think it was here. I probably would have noticed
+it. But maybe we just didn&rsquo;t see it. We were so
+busy with other things.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But why would Uncle Russ have left a pistol
+on board?&rdquo; Sandy asked, puzzled.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He probably wouldn&rsquo;t have,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;But
+he might have left one of these. That&rsquo;s a flare gun,
+not a regular pistol at all. You use it as a signal
+of distress. It shoots a rocket. Still ... I don&rsquo;t
+remember seeing it. And I know that your uncle
+didn&rsquo;t mention leaving one.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I don&rsquo;t know whether he did or not,&rdquo;
+Sandy said, &ldquo;but we&rsquo;d better make sure this is
+our boat before we go sailing it off. If it belongs to
+that guy on the island, we could get into some
+pretty bad trouble if we took it by mistake!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As they looked for some identifying marks, an
+idea suddenly occurred to Sandy. &ldquo;Maybe this isn&rsquo;t
+our boat, but one just like it, and maybe the man
+with the gun was expecting it with somebody else
+on board! That might explain his actions!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_81">81</div>
+<p>&ldquo;That makes sense,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;And in that
+case, we&rsquo;d better find out fast if it&rsquo;s ours. Look&mdash;our
+boat didn&rsquo;t have any name on it, and most
+boats do. If this has a name, we&rsquo;ll know.&rdquo; He
+hurried to the stern to see, and then to the bow,
+where some boat owners fasten name plates, but
+none was to be seen.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That doesn&rsquo;t prove anything, though,&rdquo; Sandy
+said. &ldquo;But I have an idea. Let&rsquo;s look in the food
+locker. I remember pretty well what was in there
+yesterday, and I doubt if two boats would have
+the identical food supplies. One look should tell
+us.&rdquo; He reached above the galley stove and slid
+back the doors of the locker, then stepped backward
+as if he had been hit.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s sure not our boat,&rdquo; Sandy said in hushed
+tones, for in the locker there was no food at all.
+Instead, where food should have been, was what
+appeared to be a fortune in fresh, green money!</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_82">82</div>
+<h2 id="c7"><span class="small">CHAPTER SEVEN</span>
+<br />A Million Dollars&rsquo; Worth of Trouble</h2>
+<p>Sandy and Jerry, stunned for the moment, stood
+in silence, gazing at the neatly wrapped stacks of
+tens, twenties, fifties, hundreds and five-hundred-dollar
+bills&mdash;more money than either of them
+had ever dreamed of!</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know whose boat this is,&rdquo; Sandy said,
+&ldquo;but whoever he is, he can sure afford a larger
+one!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Awed by the sight of the money, Jerry reached
+out and slipped a five-hundred-dollar bill from its
+wrapper. &ldquo;I just want to look at it for a minute,&rdquo;
+he said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve never seen a five-hundred before!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_83">83</div>
+<p>Sandy joined him to look at the crisp bill.
+&ldquo;Neither have I,&rdquo; he said. Then, stooping to look
+closer, he took the bill from Jerry&rsquo;s hand and
+examined it with the most intense interest.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Jerry!&rdquo; he said, almost in a whisper. &ldquo;I think
+we&rsquo;ve found more than a stack of money in a
+peculiar place! I may be mistaken, but I think this
+thing is counterfeit!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Counterfeit!&rdquo; Jerry said, with a gasp. &ldquo;How
+can you tell, if you never saw a five-hundred-dollar
+bill before?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come on over into the sunlight where we can
+see better,&rdquo; Sandy replied, &ldquo;and I&rsquo;ll show you what
+I mean.&rdquo; They moved to the rear of the little
+cabin, where the sun poured in through the open
+hatchway cover. Sandy held the money up to the
+light.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Look at the corners,&rdquo; he said, pointing to the
+lower right-hand corner of the bill. &ldquo;You see all
+those fine hair lines that make the looping, criss-cross
+pattern you see on all paper money? Well, I
+read once that those loops and swirls are the hardest
+part of a bill to counterfeit, and if you&rsquo;re on
+the lookout for phony money you should always
+look there first. Ones or one-thousands, they&rsquo;re all
+very complicated to engrave. On a genuine bill the
+lines are sharp and clear. On a counterfeit, they&rsquo;re
+usually a little fuzzy, especially where two lines
+cross. Look over here, right next to the five-hundred-dollar
+mark, for instance.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_84">84</div>
+<p>He pointed to where a complicated series of
+fine lines that came together had made a small
+smear, instead of a sharp, well-defined pattern.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;d never find sloppy work like that on a
+genuine government bill,&rdquo; Sandy said, pointing
+to this and to another telltale spot his sharp eyes
+had uncovered.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I see what you mean,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;Boy, there
+must be more than a million dollars&rsquo; worth of this
+useless stuff in that food locker!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s not so useless to someone,&rdquo; Sandy returned.
+&ldquo;Whoever made this stuff and is responsible for it
+is sure making real money out of it in the end&mdash;and
+an awful lot of real money, too!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jerry nodded thoughtfully, then said, &ldquo;Where
+do you suppose it&rsquo;s coming from?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That shouldn&rsquo;t be too hard to figure out,&rdquo;
+Sandy answered. &ldquo;That man on the island was
+pretty nervous about having any unexpected
+guests, I&rsquo;d say. I&rsquo;ll bet you this whole stack of
+money that he&rsquo;s behind the whole thing, and that
+this is his boat that we&rsquo;re on!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_85">85</div>
+<p>&ldquo;You must be right,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;From the way
+that he came racing down that path with his gun
+yesterday, he must have been watching us all
+along, yet he didn&rsquo;t come to stop us until we had
+dropped our anchor, lowered our sails, and were
+halfway in to shore in the dinghy! We should have
+realized when he didn&rsquo;t stop us sooner what that
+meant. It meant that something funny was going
+on here!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s right!&rdquo; Sandy agreed. &ldquo;He must have
+been expecting somebody else to come along in
+this boat&mdash;the same class and colors as ours&mdash;and
+he thought that we were whoever he was expecting&mdash;until
+he saw us in the dinghy! That&rsquo;s why he
+was acting so confused and excited that he didn&rsquo;t
+know whether to shoot at us, or to be nice and let
+us get our water and be on our way. We really
+caught him off guard!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Right,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;And now we&rsquo;ve confused
+the boats the same way he did, and we&rsquo;ve caught
+him off guard again!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy sat looking silently at the counterfeit five-hundred-dollar
+bill, frowning. Then he looked up
+at his friend and said, &ldquo;The question now is, what
+are we going to do about it? We&rsquo;re pretty lucky
+that we weren&rsquo;t seen coming on board this boat,
+but do you think our luck is going to last? I&rsquo;m
+worried that we won&rsquo;t be able to get away from
+here again without being seen.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_86">86</div>
+<p>&ldquo;We haven&rsquo;t got much choice in the matter,
+have we?&rdquo; Jerry answered. &ldquo;The longer we stay
+here, the worse our chances will be. There&rsquo;s no
+telling when the man with the gun or somebody
+else will come out here to do something with this
+money, and if they find us here....&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;d sure hate to cross that fellow,&rdquo; Sandy
+agreed. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t like the way he handles that rifle
+of his. He looks too darn ready to use it!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Stuffing the counterfeit five-hundred-dollar bill
+into his pocket, Sandy stood up. &ldquo;We&rsquo;d better get
+going now, while we still have a chance,&rdquo; he said.
+&ldquo;The only thing to do now is to get this bill to
+the police as evidence of what we&rsquo;ve found, and
+to put them on to this island.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy started up from the cabin but, as his head
+emerged from the hatchway, he stopped dead in
+his tracks, for floating in a dinghy just a few feet
+away was the mysterious owner of the island accompanied
+by two tough-looking sailors! Sandy
+looked in dismay from their three faces to the
+muzzles of three guns pointed directly at him!</p>
+<p>It was not a pleasant smile that the man from
+the island gave him as he said, &ldquo;Well! This is quite
+a surprise for all of us, isn&rsquo;t it? Are you still looking
+for water? Or do you have a better story to
+entertain me with today?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_87">87</div>
+<h2 id="c8"><span class="small">CHAPTER EIGHT</span>
+<br />Double Blackout</h2>
+<p>Sandy tried his hardest to look unknowing and
+innocent, and at the same time shocked and outraged.
+With the three guns aimed at him, it was
+not an easy job.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the idea?&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve never
+seen anybody so ready with a gun as you are! We
+were only looking for our boat. You know it looks
+the same as yours. We thought for a while that
+this was it, but....&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_88">88</div>
+<p>&ldquo;But you found out, after some thorough
+snooping, that it wasn&rsquo;t, didn&rsquo;t you?&rdquo; the man
+sneered. &ldquo;Of course you did. It&rsquo;s my boat, all right!
+And you&rsquo;re trespassing on it! And this is my island
+too, and you were trespassing there yesterday!
+And if I were to shoot you, I would be perfectly
+within my rights as a landowner!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy tried with difficulty to smile reassuringly.
+&ldquo;Take it easy, mister,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Honestly, we
+were just looking for our boat. It dragged anchor
+in the storm last night, and when we saw yours
+we made a natural mistake and thought it was
+ours. Okay, it isn&rsquo;t. We made a mistake, that&rsquo;s all.
+Now if you&rsquo;ll just let us apologize, we&rsquo;ll get off
+your private property and go looking again.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But the man didn&rsquo;t show the slightest intention
+of even moving his rifle from the ready, much
+less of letting the boys go.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Of course you&rsquo;ll go looking again,&rdquo; he said.
+&ldquo;Looking for what you were looking for yesterday
+and today. Oh, no! I hardly think I can let you
+go!&rdquo; Then he smiled his peculiar smile again.
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s more,&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;even if I were to let
+you go, I would first have to ask you to return the
+money you stole&mdash;the money I see sticking out
+of your pocket!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy&rsquo;s heart sank. There was nothing he could
+think of to say now, and he could see no way out
+of the situation. He sank wearily to a seat in the
+cockpit and sighed.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_89">89</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I guess we can both stop play-acting about this
+trespassing thing,&rdquo; he said. He pulled the telltale
+bill out of his pocket and threw it on the deck.
+&ldquo;This is what you&rsquo;ve been so upset about all along,
+isn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re a very bright boy,&rdquo; the man with the
+gun said. &ldquo;Far too bright, I&rsquo;m afraid. You have
+this whole thing figured out already, haven&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Most of it,&rdquo; Sandy admitted. &ldquo;At least the parts
+that count. You&rsquo;re using this island to make
+counterfeit money, and you&rsquo;re using this sailboat
+to take it somewhere. That&rsquo;s about all I know,
+but it&rsquo;s enough to get you in trouble, isn&rsquo;t it,
+Mr.&mdash;?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Jones is the name,&rdquo; the man said. &ldquo;Yes, I
+would say it was quite enough. The only mistake
+you&rsquo;ve made is your conclusion. What you know is
+enough to get <i>you</i> in trouble&mdash;not me. In fact, I
+should hate to be in as much trouble as you two
+boys are in right now!&rdquo; Jones put down his rifle
+for a moment and said, &ldquo;Do you mind if I come
+on board my boat so that we can discuss your
+difficulties in more comfort?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jones stepped out of the dinghy to the deck of
+the little sloop and settled himself comfortably in
+the stern seat while his two silent crewmen kept
+Sandy covered. When he was set, with his ever-present
+rifle held at ready across his knees, he was
+followed on board by the larger and meaner looking
+of the two sailors, who stationed himself beside Jones.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_90">90</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes,&rdquo; Jones repeated, &ldquo;I should say that
+what you know is quite enough! And, since you
+already have too much information to ever let
+you leave here with, I&rsquo;ll be happy to satisfy your
+immense curiosity by giving you a little more. But
+why not have your friend join us on deck?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>When Jerry had come up from the cabin and
+was sitting beside Sandy, Jones cleared his throat,
+as if he were about to give a formal speech.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;As far as you went in your thinking, you are
+most certainly right,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I use this boat to
+transport counterfeit money which I make on my
+island. I take it to a waiting freighter that meets
+me five miles off shore&mdash;well beyond the legal
+jurisdiction of the United States government, in
+international waters. The freighter takes my pretty
+counterfeit money and disposes of it in foreign
+markets, where I get a good price for it, and where
+not every bright and nosy boy is out to make a
+nuisance of himself.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then, once again, Jones smiled his peculiar and
+unpleasant smile. &ldquo;I find the foreign markets most
+useful for disposing of items which are too difficult
+to get rid of here. I expect that you will not
+be much harder to dispose of than this money,
+when you are beyond the limits of U.S. waters!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_91">91</div>
+<p>Sandy looked at Jerry in silence, desperately
+hoping his friend would come up with some flash
+of inspiration&mdash;some idea&mdash;which would help
+them to get out of this situation. But Jerry was no
+help. For that matter, Sandy reflected, he was not
+much help himself. But as long as he kept &ldquo;Jones&rdquo;
+talking, he&rsquo;d get some more information and
+meanwhile, perhaps, he or Jerry might think of
+something.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s only one thing that has me puzzled
+in all this,&rdquo; Sandy said therefore. &ldquo;Why did you
+leave this boat full of money floating around outside
+of the cove?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jones laughed. &ldquo;There you have the full essence
+of our little comedy of errors,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Last
+night&rsquo;s storm probably tore more than one
+hundred boats loose from their anchorages and
+moorings. Yours, I assure you, wasn&rsquo;t the only one
+that drifted a good distance, and neither was
+mine!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yours?&rdquo; Jerry gasped. &ldquo;You mean that our
+boat <i>did</i> drift over this way? And that you&mdash;?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_92">92</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I think you understand,&rdquo; Jones replied. &ldquo;But
+it wasn&rsquo;t I. It was these stupid fools who work
+for me. They had loaded the money on board the
+boat last night before the storm. Then, when it
+blew up, we knew that it was impossible to sail
+to the freighter until the storm had passed. They
+failed to take the money out of the boat for the
+night, trusting to luck that nothing would go
+wrong. But something did go wrong! My boat
+broke loose and floated out around the point to
+where it is now. Your boat drifted up to the
+entrance of my cove. When they came out this
+morning, my assistants saw your boat, and did not
+see mine.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jones laughed a short, sharp laugh. &ldquo;They
+actually sailed your sloop five miles out to the
+freighter! Of course they discovered their mistake
+when they opened the money locker and found it
+full of canned food!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He looked at the sailors with disgust, then continued.
+&ldquo;When they realized their error, they
+promptly sailed back here, but by that time you
+had found my boat and assumed it to be yours.
+When they told me their story, I guessed at once
+what had happened and went to correct the mistake
+before you found out about our little business.
+If you had only come a half hour later, you
+would have found your own boat and sailed it off
+in perfect safety. Unfortunately for you, you were
+just a little too soon.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_93">93</div>
+<p>&ldquo;As long as you&rsquo;re telling us the whole story,&rdquo;
+Jerry said, &ldquo;will you answer a question for me?
+I don&rsquo;t understand why you bother with sailboats,
+when a power boat could do the job so much
+faster.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s a fair question,&rdquo; Jones said. &ldquo;You <i>are</i>
+smart boys, aren&rsquo;t you? Well, I pride myself on
+using my brains, too. I use this innocent-looking
+sloop for several reasons, one of which caused this
+whole ridiculous mix-up. For one thing, an individual
+member of a popular class of sailboat is
+very hard for the casual observer to identify. This
+we have both seen to be true. For another thing,
+everyone thinks of a sailboat as being merely a
+pleasure craft, and would never suspect it of anything
+illegal. It can go in and out of the harbor
+on a regular schedule and nobody will notice
+it or even realize it&rsquo;s the same boat they are
+seeing. Third, all power boats have to be registered
+and licensed by the Coast Guard, while a
+sailboat is so anonymous that it doesn&rsquo;t even have
+to have a name. Fourth, it gives me a reason to
+live on this island. To the people who stop to
+think of me, if they think of me at all, I am a retired
+gentleman whose principal hobby is sailing,
+and who lives on an island in order to get the most
+enjoyment out of the sport.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_94">94</div>
+<p>Again Jones smiled, and Sandy shivered. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s
+quite a neat setup, don&rsquo;t you agree?&rdquo; Jones said.
+&ldquo;And, with the same neatness that is a part of my
+way of life, I am now going to put an end to this
+whole unpleasant interruption.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Suddenly dropping his lazy conversational
+manner, Jones sat upright and pointed his rifle at
+Sandy. Not moving his eyes from the boys, he
+spoke to the sailor who was still standing silent by
+his side. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ll have to take them out to the
+freighter now. There&rsquo;s nothing else to do. I&rsquo;ll
+decide what to do with them later on. You and
+Turk sail this boat and I&rsquo;ll follow in theirs. Lock
+them below,&rdquo; he added, nodding toward Sandy
+and Jerry.</p>
+<p>For the first time since they had seen him, the
+sailor spoke. &ldquo;Okay,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;We won&rsquo;t mess it
+up this time.&rdquo; Then, this being apparently the
+longest speech of which he was capable, he shut his
+mouth into a thin, hard line, and moved heavily
+to the boys.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_95">95</div>
+<p>Using his pistol as a goad, he poked Sandy in
+the ribs and motioned him to go below. As Sandy
+started to take his first step down into the cabin,
+the sailor shoved him roughly and sent him
+sprawling onto the deck below. His head spinning,
+Sandy looked up to see the giant sailor towering
+above him. He was conscious of an odd noise, like
+a strangled, slow sobbing, far away. What was it?
+He had never heard such an ugly sound in his
+life....</p>
+<p>Then, as his head cleared, he realized what it
+was that he was hearing. The sailor was laughing!</p>
+<p>Afterward, Sandy was unable to explain why
+the strange laughing sound, and the sight of the
+warped expression that only faintly resembled a
+smile, should have made him behave as he did.
+An uncontrollable fury filled him and he jumped
+to his feet with a headlong rush!</p>
+<p>Caught off guard by Sandy&rsquo;s sudden attack, the
+sailor made a clumsy move to sidestep, but not
+before Sandy&rsquo;s swing had caught him a terrific
+blow in the ribs. All of Sandy&rsquo;s six feet of wiry
+muscle went into the blow, and the sailor reeled
+back, staggering.</p>
+<p>Sandy followed him into the cockpit to take
+advantage of the surprise attack, just in time to see
+Jones bring down the barrel of his rifle sharply on
+Jerry&rsquo;s head. Sandy whirled to face Jones as Jerry
+dropped to the deck.</p>
+<p>He started forward, cocking his fist to lash out
+before Jones could raise his rifle again, but
+suddenly, with a sound like a bat striking a ball, a
+blinding light seemed to explode in his face. This
+first sensation was followed by a dull roaring
+sound and a spreading pool of inky blackness. He
+felt his knees buckle....</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_96">96</div>
+<p>Somewhere, from afar, he heard Jones speaking
+in bored tones.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Bull,&rdquo; he was saying, almost lazily, &ldquo;you know
+how I dislike unnecessary violence in any form. If
+you hadn&rsquo;t shoved the boy, this little scene would
+never&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And that was the last Sandy was to hear for
+quite a while.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_97">97</div>
+<h2 id="c9"><span class="small">CHAPTER NINE</span>
+<br />To the Freighter</h2>
+<p>When Sandy came to, the first thing he was aware
+of was a terrific headache. This was accompanied
+by such severe dizziness that when he tried to sit
+up he sank back immediately, holding his head.
+Gingerly, he ran his hand over his skull as if to
+make sure that it was still all in one piece. Then
+he lay still for a while, afraid to try moving anything
+else, and looked at the ceiling above him.</p>
+<p>Slowly, the dizziness ebbed away and the pain
+lurking behind his eyes settled down to a more
+bearable level. When he felt it was safe to try, he
+moved more cautiously than the first time, sat up
+and swung his long legs over the edge of the bunk.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_98">98</div>
+<p>For a moment, he simply sat there with his
+elbows on his knees and his head propped in his
+hands, and looked at the decking. He had to think
+hard, as if he were remembering a dream that was
+fast fading away. Why was he in this bunk below?
+How was Jerry handling the boat alone? He
+frowned, pushed back his cowlick and raised his
+head.</p>
+<p>As he did so, he caught sight of the brass flare
+gun clipped to its bracket on the opposite bulkhead,
+and suddenly he remembered everything
+that had happened. Of course! This was not his
+boat at all, and Jerry wasn&rsquo;t sailing it alone&mdash;or
+in any other way, for that matter!</p>
+<p>Jerry lay on the opposite bunk below the flare
+gun, propped up on one elbow and looking at
+him with a grin.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I guess it isn&rsquo;t funny,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;but you sure
+took an awful long time to wake up and figure out
+what had happened to you! I&rsquo;ve been lying here
+awake for five minutes now, just watching you
+come up from under!&rdquo; Ruefully rubbing a hand
+across his black crew-cut, he added, &ldquo;I guess I
+must have taken the same length of time doing it
+when I woke up, but there wasn&rsquo;t anybody here
+to time me!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_99">99</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I saw Jones hit you,&rdquo; Sandy said, &ldquo;and he sure
+wasn&rsquo;t making any special effort to be gentle. I
+guess that Bull, the big sailor, got me from behind
+when I turned to go after Jones.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Still rubbing his head, Jerry sat up in his bunk
+and faced his friend. &ldquo;Sandy,&rdquo; he asked, &ldquo;what
+made you take a swing at Bull like that? You sure
+must have known that the two of us didn&rsquo;t stand
+much of a chance in a fight against three men with
+guns!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t suppose I was really thinking at all,&rdquo;
+Sandy answered. &ldquo;I know it was a pretty foolish
+thing to do, but there was just something about
+Bull&rsquo;s laugh.... Anyway, I&rsquo;m sorry. It could
+have got us killed right then and there, I guess. As
+it is, I think we&rsquo;re lucky to have got away with
+nothing more than a couple of headaches.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do you mean, a couple?&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve
+got two myself!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Both boys laughed, but as their laughter died
+down, they became more serious than they had
+been before.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Look, we can sit here and make jokes about
+the situation until they get us out to that
+freighter,&rdquo; Sandy said, &ldquo;but that isn&rsquo;t going to
+help us to figure out a way to escape and get to
+the police.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_100">100</div>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re perfectly right,&rdquo; Jerry agreed. &ldquo;We&rsquo;d
+better scout around and size things up while we&rsquo;ve
+got a chance.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And we&rsquo;d better do it fast,&rdquo; Sandy added. &ldquo;We
+don&rsquo;t know how long we&rsquo;ve been knocked out, so
+we haven&rsquo;t any idea how much time we have left
+before we arrive at the freighter. And by then, it
+might very well be too late to do anything for ourselves
+at all.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Half rising from their bunks, for the cabin roof
+was too low to allow them full standing headroom,
+they moved aft to the sliding doors that separated
+them from the cockpit. Gently testing the doors,
+Sandy found that they were locked, as he had
+assumed they would be. A crack of light showed
+where the two halves of the door met, and he
+placed his eye to it. With a frown, he turned
+around to look at Jerry.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Boy, they&rsquo;re not taking any chances this time,&rdquo;
+he whispered. &ldquo;Both of the sailors are out there in
+the cockpit, and the one called Turk has his pistol
+in his hand, and it&rsquo;s pointed right at this door!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_101">101</div>
+<p>Moving back to the bunks, Sandy and Jerry
+knelt to look through the small windows above
+them. On both sides of the sloop, there was
+nothing to see but water&mdash;not so much as a buoy
+or another boat in sight. Far off to the starboard
+side, they made out a low smudge that was the
+shore.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We must be almost there!&rdquo; Sandy said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you think there&rsquo;s any use trying the forward
+hatch?&rdquo; asked Jerry. &ldquo;Or do you suppose
+that they have that one locked tight, too?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know if it matters much one way or the
+other,&rdquo; Sandy sighed. &ldquo;Even if it is open, I
+wouldn&rsquo;t care to stick my head out&mdash;not with
+Turk sitting back there with his pistol ready! I
+think I&rsquo;ve had enough of rushing into pistols for
+one day!&rdquo; Putting his hand to his head, he felt the
+lump that was forming above his right ear.</p>
+<p>Moving with the most extreme caution, so as to
+attract no attention from their guards, they started
+to explore the cabin for whatever possibilities it
+had to offer. Coming to the two tiny forward portholes,
+barely large enough to put a hand through,
+Sandy paused to take a look forward.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_102">102</div>
+<p>Before their bow, perhaps fifty yards away, was
+a boat sailing calmly along as if the whole world
+were on a holiday. For one short instant, Sandy
+thought that this might be their chance&mdash;perhaps
+a signal with the flare gun might bring aid from
+the passing sailor! But his hopes were shattered in
+no time as he realized that the sloop sailing ahead
+was his own, sailed by Jones who was leading the
+way to the freighter that waited, like doom, not
+far off.</p>
+<p>Even in his hopelessness, Sandy could not help
+pausing to admire his boat, graceful and trim,
+making good time beating into a steady breeze. He
+thought for a moment of the preceding day when
+he had learned to take the tiller and had first
+felt the happy pride of ownership and accomplishment
+that comes to every boat owner. What a
+change in fortunes this new day had brought!
+Now his boat was no longer his and, instead of
+carrying him to pleasure, was leading him to what
+looked like certain disaster!</p>
+<p>As he watched, his boat suddenly put about on
+a new tack. He saw Jones skillfully handling both
+the tiller and the sheets. The jib was swiftly
+brought over to fill and, together with the mainsail,
+was trimmed and drawing in no time. Whatever
+else you could say about Jones, Sandy
+thought, the man sure knew how to handle a boat!</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_103">103</div>
+<p>The new tack set by Jones was followed by their
+sailor-guards. With a creak of tackle and rigging
+and a shifting of weight to the opposite side, the
+little sloop came about. Still at his lookout post at
+the forward port, Sandy saw the head of the boat
+swing about. As it did so, he caught sight of their
+destination.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Jerry! Look!&rdquo; he whispered, motioning his
+friend to join him at the other porthole. There,
+high in the water, perhaps a mile away, was the
+dark shape of the freighter. Wisps of gray-white
+smoke curled from its stack and drifted off in the
+breeze. It was an ordinary-looking freight cargo
+ship, such as you would see in any port of the
+world. It had a black hull, a white deckhouse and
+a black stack marked with green stripes. All
+perfectly ordinary, perhaps, but to Sandy and
+Jerry it looked sinister and piratical. They stared
+at it for a few minutes, trying to judge their rate
+of progress from the lessening distance between
+themselves and the black-hulled ship. Then Sandy
+tore himself away from the porthole and grabbed
+Jerry&rsquo;s arm.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Jerry, we&rsquo;ve got to start acting fast,&rdquo; he said.
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s hardly any time left!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Act how?&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;What can we do but sit
+here and wait like a couple of chickens in a crate
+being taken to market? If you can think of anything
+to do, I&rsquo;m game, but I haven&rsquo;t got an idea in
+my head.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_104">104</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think there&rsquo;s anything we can do about
+the situation now,&rdquo; Sandy said, &ldquo;but I have an idea
+that might work later on. It may not be worth
+much, but anything&rsquo;s worth trying.&rdquo; He cast his
+eyes about the small cabin.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Did you by any chance come across a first-aid
+kit while you were searching?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I did,&rdquo; Jerry answered. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s in that locker
+next to the money. But what do you want it for?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Bring it over and I&rsquo;ll show you,&rdquo; Sandy
+answered.</p>
+<p>While Jerry went for the first-aid kit, Sandy
+took the brass flare pistol from its bracket above
+the bunk. Then he sat down on the bunk and
+rolled up his pants leg. &ldquo;Here,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Give
+me some tape. I&rsquo;m going to strap this bulky thing
+to my leg if we have enough.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What for?&rdquo; Jerry asked in surprise. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s not a
+real gun, you know. All it does is fire a flare. Besides,
+there&rsquo;s only one flare in here, and I don&rsquo;t
+know if that can do us very much good.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t care about the flares,&rdquo; Sandy answered.
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s the gun itself that I&rsquo;m interested in. It fooled
+me when I saw it and it just might possibly fool
+someone else who might not be familiar with these
+things. I&rsquo;m hoping that if we get a chance to pull
+it on someone after dark, we can fool him long
+enough to get hold of a real gun that will help us
+escape!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_105">105</div>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s not a bad idea,&rdquo; Jerry admitted. &ldquo;That
+is, if we&rsquo;re still alive by dark!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s about all I&rsquo;m hoping for now,&rdquo; Sandy
+answered. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know whether we can do any
+good with this flare gun or not, but it&rsquo;s pretty clear
+that we can&rsquo;t escape from <i>this</i> boat. So I&rsquo;m doing
+what I can to let us be able to take advantage of
+any chance we get on board the freighter. If we&rsquo;re
+lucky enough to <i>get</i> a chance.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As he spoke, Sandy was fastening the bulky flare
+pistol to the inside of his calf, making it as secure
+as he could with the tape from the first-aid kit.
+Finished at last, he stood up as well as he could
+in the low-ceilinged cabin, and tried to walk
+around.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Does it show too much?&rdquo; he asked Jerry,
+shaking his leg a little.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It shows,&rdquo; Jerry said, without much encouragement.
+&ldquo;But maybe if you move around carefully,
+and if they don&rsquo;t take a sudden interest in your
+legs, you might get away with it. Anyway, what can
+we lose by trying?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_106">106</div>
+<p>Sandy looked down at the bulge which so obviously
+distorted the leg of his blue jeans. He was
+afraid that he would never get away with it. He
+remembered the bell-bottom pants that the Navy
+enlisted men wear and that all sailors once wore,
+and he wondered if their original purpose had
+been to carry concealed weapons. Whatever they
+were for, he sure wished he were wearing a pair
+now!</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I guess this is about as good as we can get it,&rdquo;
+Sandy said. &ldquo;If one of us only had a jacket on, we
+could probably hide the gun under an arm, but
+these sweat shirts just don&rsquo;t leave enough room.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, I think the leg is a better place anyway,&rdquo;
+Jerry said. &ldquo;If they search us for weapons, they&rsquo;re
+apt to miss your leg, but they&rsquo;d never miss patting
+you under the arm. Anyway, we don&rsquo;t have a
+jacket, and as far as I can see there&rsquo;s no place else
+to hide the thing.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The boys took a last look around the cabin to
+see if there was anything else to help them, but
+there was not even a small kitchen knife or a can
+opener in the little galley. It seemed that Mr.
+Jones kept only counterfeit money in that area. As
+they were carefully exploring every possible nook
+and cranny in the cabin, they felt the sloop heel to
+the other side as it once more came about to go on
+a new tack.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_107">107</div>
+<p>From the vantage point of the two forward ports
+they saw the reason for this latest maneuver. They
+were coming up to the wind alongside the
+freighter, preparing to stop. The high sides of the
+big ship loomed above them like the walls of a
+fortress, but chipped and scarred with streaks of
+rust. As the sloop swung completely into the wind,
+losing headway, they caught sight of Jones making
+a line fast to the bow of Sandy&rsquo;s boat. Then, with
+a rattle of slides and a clumping of heavy steps on
+the cabin roof overhead, the counterfeiters&rsquo; craft
+came to a halt and was made fast alongside the
+freighter.</p>
+<p>Whatever was to happen, it would happen now!</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_108">108</div>
+<h2 id="c10"><span class="small">CHAPTER TEN</span>
+<br />Aboard the Floating Prison</h2>
+<p>Moving away from the forward portholes, Sandy
+and Jerry sat on the edges of the bunks and waited
+for their captors to come and get them. Both boys
+made themselves look as if they were completely
+dejected&mdash;as if they had already given up any
+hopes they might have had of escaping or of being
+rescued.</p>
+<p>In a few minutes the footsteps on the deck and
+cabin top stopped and the little craft lay bobbing
+and wallowing in the sea swell that rose and fell
+alongside the freighter.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_109">109</div>
+<p>Rope bumpers, large braided lengths of thick
+cordage, were lashed to the sides of the sloop to
+keep it from being damaged by rubbing and banging
+against the steel side of the big ship.</p>
+<p>Although they were listening as closely as possible
+to everything that went on, they could not
+make out the words they heard shouted from the
+freighter&rsquo;s deck far above. Nevertheless, the sense
+of them was made clear by the answer that Turk
+bellowed back.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yeah! we got the stuff this time, all right! And
+we got a couple of other pieces of cargo with us,
+too! Wait and we&rsquo;ll show you!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This was the moment, Sandy thought. He
+would have to be careful, he warned himself, not
+to lose his temper as he had done last time, even
+if he was roughed up and shoved around again.
+And above all, he must be careful about the way
+he moved. One false step would surely outline the
+telltale shape of the flare gun taped to his leg&mdash;and
+that would be the end of the only &ldquo;weapon&rdquo;
+that he and Jerry had! Not only that, but it might
+well be the end of the only chance they would
+have to get away with whole skins!</p>
+<p>A bolt grated in its slide on the companionway
+door and the hatch slid open to reveal Turk,
+pistol in hand, grinning nastily at them.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_110">110</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Okay, gents,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;The first-class passage
+on the local ferry is over. Just step up on deck,
+and we&rsquo;ll transfer to the next vessel.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As Sandy reached the companionway steps,
+Turk reached down and grabbed him by the neck
+of his shirt. With a swift heave, he sent Sandy
+sprawling on the cockpit deck. Keeping a tight
+control on his temper, Sandy confined his thoughts
+to worrying about getting his leg tucked under
+him in such a position that the flare pistol
+wouldn&rsquo;t show.</p>
+<p>But he need not have worried, for Turk was too
+busy enjoying himself giving the same treatment
+to Jerry, who came flying out of the cabin to land
+heavily on the deck alongside Sandy.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;These boys sure play a lot of rough games,&rdquo; he
+murmured. &ldquo;And I&rsquo;m afraid that this is only the
+beginning of a whole world&rsquo;s series!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Take it easy,&rdquo; Sandy whispered to his friend.
+&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s just go along with them quietly. Maybe we
+can keep in one piece until we have a chance to
+figure a way out.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>At Turk&rsquo;s orders, they rose to their feet. Looking
+up to the freighter&rsquo;s deck high above them,
+they saw the other sailor, Bull, already on board,
+at the top of a long rope ladder. He too had his
+pistol held ready, and the expression on his face
+gave every indication that he would be only too
+glad to use it if he were given even half an excuse to do so.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_111">111</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Get up that ladder,&rdquo; Turk ordered, &ldquo;and don&rsquo;t
+try nothing funny. We&rsquo;ll have you covered all the
+way.&rdquo; He waved his pistol at Jerry to indicate that
+he wanted him to go up the ladder first.</p>
+<p>Sandy&rsquo;s heart seemed to sink in his chest. The
+order of climbing was all wrong&mdash;it couldn&rsquo;t be
+wronger! Jerry first, himself next, and Turk last!
+Surely Turk, if he was below him looking up as he
+climbed, couldn&rsquo;t fail to notice the flare pistol
+taped to Sandy&rsquo;s leg!</p>
+<p>Acting as if he misunderstood Turk&rsquo;s wordless
+command, Sandy stepped forward and grabbed
+the rope ladder, but the sailor&rsquo;s big hand gripped
+him by the shoulder hard and firmly pulled him
+back.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You sure are eager, ain&rsquo;t ya, kid? And you&rsquo;re
+tricky, too. Now why did you want to go up that
+ladder first? That ain&rsquo;t no picnic or party up
+there!&rdquo; He screwed his big face into a frown of
+deep thought. Apparently unable to reach a decision,
+he undid his thinking expression and snarled
+at Sandy. &ldquo;Just stop thinkin&rsquo; up tricks, see! You
+let me do the thinkin&rsquo; here! Now, you go on first,
+the way I told ya!&rdquo; He pushed Jerry toward the
+ladder.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_112">112</div>
+<p>Resigned to having his flare gun discovered, and
+almost resigned to whatever would happen next,
+Sandy moved to the ladder to take his turn, when
+once more the big hand of Turk pulled him
+back. &ldquo;I told you I&rsquo;d do the thinkin&rsquo;!&rdquo; Turk
+said. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know what you got up your sleeve,
+but whatever it is, you&rsquo;d better forget it. I&rsquo;m goin&rsquo;
+up next!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>At last, here was a turn of luck! Sandy could
+hardly keep from grinning as Turk started to
+mount the rope ladder. The big sailor swung up
+easily, keeping his eyes always turned downward
+to Sandy. Halfway up, he stopped.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come on, now,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You won&rsquo;t be able
+to play no tricks this way. You&rsquo;re too far back for
+any leg grabbing, and I got this gun aimed right
+at the top of your head. Now come on up, and
+come slow!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy stepped from the deck of the sloop to the
+lower rungs of the rope ladder and did as he was
+told, moving his &ldquo;gun leg&rdquo; as carefully as he
+could without running the risk of attracting any
+attention to it. At least, he thought with some
+satisfaction, he had gotten over the first hurdle!</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_113">113</div>
+<p>On the deck of the freighter, the boys were met
+by Jones, Bull, and a mean-looking crew of some
+of the dirtiest men they had ever seen. The
+freighter itself was none too clean, with paint
+scaling from the decks and splotches of grease
+covering the cargo-handling winches and other
+deck machinery. The white deckhouse, seen from
+close quarters, was a dingy and spotted gray, and
+the portholes were streaked with dirt and dried
+salt.</p>
+<p>In the midst of a rat&rsquo;s nest of coiled ropes, fraying
+cables and other ship&rsquo;s debris, Jones sat on an
+overturned crate as if it were an easy chair. He
+seemed perfectly at ease and completely out of
+place at the same time, his smart sports clothes and
+yachting cap making an odd contrast to the mixed
+clothing of the freighter&rsquo;s crew.</p>
+<p>Despite his air of being a gentleman of leisure,
+Jones had his rifle still with him, lying across his
+knees, and his long fingers played restlessly with
+the safety catch and the trigger.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Gentlemen,&rdquo; he smiled. &ldquo;Welcome aboard. I
+hope you will find our modest accommodations
+suitable for your long journey. The Captain will
+arrive in a moment, and I am sure that he will do
+whatever is in his power to see to it that you are
+treated&mdash;appropriately.&rdquo; Still smiling, he turned
+to Bull and said, &ldquo;Bull, see to it that our passengers
+aren&rsquo;t carrying any unnecessary luggage.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_114">114</div>
+<p>Bull looked puzzled. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t getcha,&rdquo; he
+mumbled.</p>
+<p>Jones rose with a swift movement, his smile
+turned at once to ice. &ldquo;If you weren&rsquo;t such a stupid
+lout, perhaps you&rsquo;d get me the first time I speak
+to you! If you weren&rsquo;t such a stupid lout, we
+wouldn&rsquo;t have had these boys here with us in the
+first place.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He moved forward as if to strike the cowering
+Bull, but stopped and regained control over himself.
+Once more, he put on his bland smile.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Pardon my temper and my little jokes, Bull,&rdquo;
+he said. &ldquo;What I meant by &lsquo;unnecessary luggage&rsquo;
+was concealed weapons. In other words, frisk
+them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Bull shook his head and said, &ldquo;Why&rsquo;ntcha say
+so inna first place?&rdquo; and started toward Jerry and
+Sandy.</p>
+<p>Once again Sandy tensed. If only his luck would
+hold and he could get through without having
+Bull find the flare gun! Otherwise....</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_115">115</div>
+<p>He watched as Bull patted Jerry, none too
+gently. He realized that, if Jerry had been wearing
+a jacket under which to hide the flare gun, it
+would surely have been discovered. Soon Bull was
+finished with Jerry, and it was Sandy&rsquo;s turn. Bull
+frisked him quickly and clumsily, patting his chest
+and under his arms, even though it was obvious
+that he couldn&rsquo;t possibly have hidden anything
+there. Bull&rsquo;s big hands continued down to Sandy&rsquo;s
+pockets, hesitated for a moment, and stopped
+right there. He turned to face Jones.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They&rsquo;re clean,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+<p>Jones nodded, not paying too much attention
+to Bull or to the search. &ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t think that they
+would have had the foresight to bring any
+weapons. Still&mdash;there&rsquo;s no sense taking any
+chances. In this business, one can&rsquo;t be too careful.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Noticing that Jones was not looking directly
+at either Bull or themselves as he said all this,
+Sandy followed his gaze to the upper decks of the
+freighter, wondering what he <i>was</i> looking for. A
+door swung open and a man stepped out into
+the late afternoon sunshine. Jones rose, waved to
+the man and called, &ldquo;Captain! Come down! We
+have a little surprise for you!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_116">116</div>
+<p>Sandy had not known what to expect of the
+captain of such a ship as this, but surely, the man
+who came down the ladder did not look in the
+least like anything he might have imagined! He
+would not have been really surprised by a bearded
+giant, or another tough, such as one of the crew,
+or even, perhaps, by a turbaned oriental&mdash;but this
+captain was surely a complete surprise!</p>
+<p>He was a thin, wispy-looking old man&mdash;how
+old, Sandy could not begin to guess&mdash;with a face
+like a wise preacher&rsquo;s or perhaps a college professor&rsquo;s.
+He was dressed entirely in white, down to
+his old-fashioned white high-buttoned shoes, and
+he carried a bamboo cane with a gold head. To
+finish off this spotless outfit, so out of keeping
+with his ship, the Captain wore a pith helmet,
+such as British officers wear in the tropics!</p>
+<p>The old man moved briskly down the steep
+ladder from the upper decks and, with scarcely a
+glance at the boys, addressed himself to Jones.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who are these children?&rdquo; he asked, his voice
+thin and reedy, but carrying authority and as
+sharp as the crack of a whip.</p>
+<p>As Jones explained the presence of the boys on
+board the freighter, the Captain looked from them
+to Jones and back again. When Jones told him
+how Bull and Turk had mistaken Sandy&rsquo;s sloop
+for his own, the Captain shifted his gaze to the two
+sailors, who almost winced under his cutting stare
+of scorn. Then, when the tale was done, he devoted
+his attention exclusively to Jones once more.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do you want to do about it?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_117">117</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I leave that entirely up to you,&rdquo; Jones said. &ldquo;I
+want no part of any violence&mdash;if it can be avoided.
+Besides, you will have them on your hands, and
+I&rsquo;ll be ashore, so that it&rsquo;s hardly my place to dictate
+the conditions of their&mdash;er&mdash;disposal.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jones rose, leaning casually on his rifle as if it
+were a walking stick. &ldquo;Whatever you want to do
+is all right with me. Just get rid of them, that&rsquo;s
+all. And do it in a way that won&rsquo;t attract any
+suspicions ashore. I don&rsquo;t want anyone poking
+around the island asking questions about them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Captain thought for a minute, then
+answered, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think we&rsquo;ll have anyone poking
+around the island. Not if we handle this thing
+right. They must not, you see, simply disappear.
+If they just drop out of sight without a trace, it
+will surely bring on a search, and someone may
+have seen them near your place. No, that won&rsquo;t
+do. On the contrary, they must be found. But they
+must be found in such a condition that they can
+answer no questions&mdash;ever. And it must look
+natural.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Perfect logic,&rdquo; Jones said. &ldquo;I agree completely.
+But how are you going to manage it?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_118">118</div>
+<p>&ldquo;We will keep them aboard,&rdquo; the Captain
+answered, &ldquo;locked up below. I will tow their
+sloop after us. When we are a satisfactory distance
+from shore&mdash;say a thousand miles&mdash;we will put
+them into their boat and cut them loose.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But,&rdquo; Jones protested, &ldquo;isn&rsquo;t there a chance
+that they could make it in to shore somewhere?
+Men have managed rougher trips than that in the
+past.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t worry about details,&rdquo; the Captain said in
+his quiet, scholarly voice. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll take care of everything.
+First, we will drop them far out of any
+regular shipping lanes. In addition, we will first
+wreck their sails, their mast and their rigging as
+if it had been done by a storm. When they are
+finally found, it will be too late to do anything
+about them. It will just look as if a storm had
+wrecked them and blown them out to sea. It&rsquo;s a
+tidy way to operate&mdash;no messy violence&mdash;and
+there will be no clues to lead to your precious
+island.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jones considered for a minute before answering.
+&ldquo;It sounds all right to me, if you say so. After all,
+you know your end of the business better than I
+do.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed I do,&rdquo; the Captain answered calmly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; Jones said briskly, dismissing the matter
+of the boys from his mind, &ldquo;we have my other
+cargo to discuss before our dealings are finished
+for this trip.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_119">119</div>
+<p>The Captain held up a thin, white hand to stop
+Jones. &ldquo;Not now,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Our business can wait
+until we have refreshed ourselves and had a bit
+of dinner. Then when it is dark, you can turn
+over your cargo&mdash;if the terms are satisfactory&mdash;and
+sail home unobserved.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He waved his stick at the boys and motioned
+to two of his crew members. &ldquo;Take them below
+and lock them in an empty cabin. And set a close
+watch on them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As Sandy and Jerry were led off by the two crewmen,
+they saw the Captain precede Jones to the
+foot of the deckhouse ladder. He paused and
+bowed, indicating that Jones should go first.
+Somehow, the courtly, old-fashioned gesture
+seemed to Sandy more sinister than anything else
+he had seen since the start of this day.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_120">120</div>
+<h2 id="c11"><span class="small">CHAPTER ELEVEN</span>
+<br />Escape to Danger</h2>
+<p>Stepping over the high sill of the door that led
+from the deck to the passageway, Sandy and Jerry
+were plunged at once into gloom and near-darkness.
+The throb of the freighter&rsquo;s engines, barely
+noticeable on deck, became a roar, and the passage
+was thick with the smells and heat from the engine
+room below.</p>
+<p>They were pushed and shoved along the
+passage, past a number of doors which Sandy presumed
+were the crew&rsquo;s quarters. On the other side
+of the passage, an occasional door opened onto
+the engine room, a great cavern of heat and noise,
+brightly illuminated by lights on all sides, and
+crisscrossed by catwalks and ladders.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_121">121</div>
+<p>Without a word, their guides stopped before a
+door opposite the main opening to the engine
+room. One of them produced a large key ring and,
+after a moment&rsquo;s searching for the right key, unlocked
+the door.</p>
+<p>Motioning them to enter, the guard stood aside
+as Sandy and Jerry stepped into the gloom of a
+small cabin. Then the door slammed behind
+them, the key clicked in the lock, and they were
+alone. Through the ventilating slits cut in the
+top and bottom of the door, they heard one of
+their captors.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You take the first watch while I go for chow.
+I&rsquo;ll bring the kids something to eat when I come
+back, then you can get yours.&rdquo; The other said
+something in agreement, and the speaker&rsquo;s footsteps
+in the passageway were soon drowned out in
+the roar of the engines.</p>
+<p>Sinking to a seat on the bare springs of a bunk
+with no mattress, Jerry looked up at Sandy and
+asked, &ldquo;What now?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; Sandy admitted. &ldquo;But at least
+we got away with the flare gun, and we may figure
+out a way to use it.&rdquo; He lowered himself to the
+bare bunk opposite the one Jerry occupied, and
+surveyed their floating prison.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_122">122</div>
+<p>The cabin offered very little promise of help.
+There were the two double bunks, both bare of
+mattresses, four lockers, a sink in one corner and
+a single porthole. Going to the porthole, Sandy
+tried to open it, but with no success. The &ldquo;dogs&rdquo;
+that secured it, heavy steel latches, were welded
+in place, and the glass of the porthole looked too
+heavy to break. Obviously, the place had been
+used as a prison before. Outside of the porthole,
+there was nothing but the sea. Even if the glass
+could be broken, Sandy didn&rsquo;t like the idea of
+dropping down into the black waters below. That
+seemed as unpromising a position as the one they
+were in now!</p>
+<p>The lockers were the next subject of their exploration
+but, as they expected, these proved as
+empty and bare as the cabin itself. The sink, the
+only remaining thing in the room, was the source
+of no inspiration.</p>
+<p>Settling himself on the bunk once more, Sandy
+began to roll up his pants leg. &ldquo;I guess this flare
+gun is our only hope at that,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;We might
+as well have it ready.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He quickly undid the adhesive tape, then stuck
+the gun in his belt. As he did so, an idea came to
+him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Jerry, I think I have it!&rdquo; he whispered.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_123">123</div>
+<p>The plan was a simple one&mdash;almost too simple
+to work. But it seemed the only chance they had.
+Sandy proposed to wait until the guard came with
+their food, then, threatening him with the flare
+pistol, they would try to overcome him, tie him
+up, and make their way to the deck. Once there,
+they would have to find a way out. It seemed a
+slim hope, but what else could they do?</p>
+<p>Jerry agreed, and whispering quietly, they
+worked out the best positions to take to make their
+attack good. Meanwhile, one more stroke of good
+fortune came to them. Jerry found that he still
+had the roll of adhesive tape in his pocket, undiscovered
+in Bull&rsquo;s quick inspection. It would
+come in handy for binding and gagging the
+guards, if they could once overcome them.</p>
+<p>Now there was nothing to do but wait. Through
+the porthole, they could see the sky growing dark,
+and the gathering gloom in the cabin raised their
+spirits. It was one more bit of aid that might fool
+their jailer into thinking the flare gun was a real
+weapon. The last glow of day was dying on the
+horizon when they once more heard voices in the
+passageway.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_124">124</div>
+<p>Jerry took his position by the door while Sandy
+readied the flare gun, then sat on one of the bunks.
+The door swung open and their guards entered,
+the lead man carrying a tray and his companion
+behind him.</p>
+<p>As they stepped over the sill, Sandy stood up
+suddenly, upsetting the tray. Hot coffee spilled
+over the lead man, who stepped backward with a
+cry. As he did so, Jerry, from his position behind
+the door, reached out and knocked the second
+man to the deck. At the same moment, Sandy
+raised his flare gun and aimed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All right,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I have you covered!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do what he says,&rdquo; one of the sailors said. &ldquo;Do
+you see that gun? It&rsquo;s a flare!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy was startled. If they knew it was not a
+real pistol, why didn&rsquo;t they charge him? Why
+were they cowering away? Then he realized for
+the first time that the flare pistol, used as a weapon,
+must be an awful thing. Anything that could send
+a stream of flame hundreds of feet into the air
+could surely inflict a terrible wound when used
+against a man. He shuddered, knowing he could
+never use it in this way. But as long as the sailors
+didn&rsquo;t know it....</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_125">125</div>
+<p>It was short work to silence the men with adhesive-tape
+gags, and to tape their hands firmly
+behind their backs. When this was done, the boys
+pushed the sailors into the lockers, taped their
+ankles together, and shut them in. The locker
+doors secured firmly with a latch. Leaving the
+cabin silently, Sandy and Jerry locked its door
+behind them. That certainly took care of two of
+their captors. Now, if the rest would just prove
+this easy!</p>
+<p>As they stepped away from the door, Sandy
+whispered, &ldquo;Let&rsquo;s get out of this passage fast.
+There are too many doors here, and one might
+pop open at any minute!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They swiftly moved down the length of the
+passage until they reached the bulkhead door.
+Outside, the deck was dark, with the complete
+blackness of a night at sea, pierced only by the
+shaft of light that came from the passage. Moving
+now as quickly as they could, they slipped out
+onto the deck, and stepped back out of the light.
+Their shadows had been outlined boldly against
+the passage light for only a second. They crouched
+in the darkness and waited to be sure they had
+not been observed. So far, so good.</p>
+<p>Now that they had gotten this far, Sandy realized,
+their problems were just beginning. How
+were they to get off the ship? And how could they
+prevent being followed?</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_126">126</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Jerry,&rdquo; he whispered, &ldquo;we&rsquo;ve got to see to it
+that we get away from here in the fastest boat
+they have! I wonder if there&rsquo;s a power boat
+around?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There has to be,&rdquo; Jerry answered. &ldquo;Every ship
+carries lifeboats, and one of them always has power
+so it can be used as a captain&rsquo;s launch when
+necessary.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, let&rsquo;s find it!&rdquo; Sandy whispered.</p>
+<p>Gazing over the side, they could see no boat
+tied up at all. They had to work their way to the
+other side of the freighter, without once more
+crossing the telltale path of light from the passageway.
+To do this, they had to work their way
+forward to the bow, and then around to the other
+side of the ship. Slowly, with as much care as they
+could muster, they dropped to their knees and
+began to crawl.</p>
+<p>They reached the forepeak with no trouble,
+except the minor difficulties of crawling over the
+mess of rope and ship&rsquo;s gear scattered around the
+disordered deck. As they started back, though,
+two dark forms appeared in the light of the
+passage!</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_127">127</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Down!&rdquo; Sandy whispered, and he and Jerry
+dropped flat on the deck behind the protection of
+the windlass. Peering around the corner of the
+huge machine, with its coil of giant anchor chain,
+they watched the figures come nearer. Halfway
+between them and the deckhouse, the shadows
+stopped, leaning against the bulwark, and lit
+cigarettes.</p>
+<p>In the brief flare of the match, the boys recognized
+the grim face of Turk. The other man
+with him was a sailor they had seen on deck with
+the rest of the crew when they had been taken
+aboard the freighter. He spoke in a thin, flat,
+whining voice, with a trace of a foreign accent
+that might have had its origin in any country in
+the world, but which by now was simply international.
+The first words the boys could make
+out came from Turk.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This waiting is getting on my nerves,&rdquo; he
+rumbled. &ldquo;What&rsquo;s keeping us from shoving off?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s the big businessmen up there,&rdquo; the sailor
+whined, jerking his thumb toward the Captain&rsquo;s
+quarters. &ldquo;Jones wants more for the phony dough
+than he got last time, and the Skipper wants to
+give him less. The Skipper says he rates a break in
+the price for getting rid of those kids for Jones.
+Jones says he&rsquo;s taking as much risk as the Skipper.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And how about us?&rdquo; Turk asked. &ldquo;Ain&rsquo;t we
+in this as much as them? Where&rsquo;s the payoff for
+us?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_128">128</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know about you,&rdquo; the sailor answered.
+&ldquo;But the Skipper never let <i>us</i> down yet. He says
+he&rsquo;s gotta have better terms so&rsquo;s to pay us a bonus.
+And we&rsquo;ll get it,&rdquo; he continued, his voice taking
+on a mean, determined tone. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ll get it, or
+else!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy and Jerry, scarcely daring to breathe, lay
+still in the shadow of the windlass, listening to
+this exchange. At each word, the black freighter
+seemed less and less like a place where they wanted
+to stay. Something had to be done, and fast! As
+each moment wore on, Jones and the Captain were
+coming closer to an agreement, and when that
+agreement was reached, the ship would sail. And
+if it sailed with them still aboard, Sandy thought,
+their chance of escape would slim down almost to
+the vanishing point!</p>
+<p>For a few minutes, Turk and his friend stood
+silently at the rail and smoked their cigarettes.
+The stillness of the scene was marked only by the
+glow of coals against the black sea and sky. Then
+one of the cigarettes made an arch through the
+night as it was flipped over the side. The figures
+straightened.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_129">129</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m going back up there,&rdquo; Turk announced,
+&ldquo;and see if I can get any better idea what&rsquo;s going
+on. I&rsquo;ll listen at the porthole, and you stay back
+on the boat deck and cover for me. If anyone
+comes along, start to whistle.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The two dark figures walked back to the deckhouse
+and disappeared for a moment in the
+shadows. A few minutes later, Sandy saw their
+forms outlined briefly against the light from a
+porthole on the boat deck; then they passed once
+more from sight.</p>
+<p>Turning to Jerry, Sandy whispered, &ldquo;We&rsquo;d
+better get going! If they wind up that business
+talk before we&rsquo;re out of here, I don&rsquo;t give us much
+of a chance!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Once more, they crept in the shadows, moving
+with painful care over the tangled equipment that
+seemed to cover the decks everywhere. At last,
+reaching the ladder from the main deck to the
+boat deck, they paused and took stock. Above
+them, showing only as a dark shape against the
+dark sky, loomed the bow of the nearest of the
+freighter&rsquo;s four lifeboats. Slowly, and with the
+greatest of care, they slipped up the ladder until
+Sandy&rsquo;s head was at a level with the deck above.
+He waited and watched to be sure the deck was
+uninhabited. When he was reasonably certain, he
+moved ahead, slower now than before, and slid
+his body up onto the deck. Jerry followed suit,
+and soon the two, pulling themselves forward on
+the deck by the flats of their hands and the toes
+of their sneakers, were sheltered by a life-jacket
+box below the lifeboat.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_130">130</div>
+<p>Turning over, Sandy scanned the bottom of the
+lifeboat, until, with a sigh of relief, he saw what
+he was hoping to see&mdash;the screw of a power boat
+protruding from the stern. This was the object of
+their search!</p>
+<p>As he pointed excitedly to the screw, Jerry
+whispered with puzzlement, &ldquo;Now that we&rsquo;ve
+found their power gig, what are we going to do
+with it? It takes four men to launch these things,
+and even if we could launch it, it would make
+such a noise that we&rsquo;d have the whole crew on our
+necks before it ever hit the water!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t figure on launching it,&rdquo; Sandy said.
+&ldquo;What I want to do is fix it so they won&rsquo;t be able
+to follow us in it when we make our getaway on
+the sloop!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Smart thinking!&rdquo; Jerry whispered. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s
+very little danger that they can chase us with the
+freighter itself. In the first place, by the time they
+could turn it around, we&rsquo;d be out of sight. And
+if they don&rsquo;t catch up with us out here, they won&rsquo;t
+dare come too near the harbor. The water there
+isn&rsquo;t deep enough for a ship this size and it would
+be too risky for them. But <i>I</i> don&rsquo;t know too much
+about engines. How are you going to disable this one?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_131">131</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I know a few ways,&rdquo; Sandy answered, &ldquo;and I&rsquo;m
+going to use them all! If I just put one thing out
+of order, they might fix it right away. But, with
+the mess I&rsquo;m going to make of that engine, it&rsquo;ll
+take them a half hour or better to get it going.
+And by then, I hope, we&rsquo;ll have sailed out of
+sight!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Working with the greatest of care, the boys unlaced
+the canvas cover on the outboard side of the
+lifeboat. Standing on the rail of the ship, Sandy
+swung up and slid in beneath the cover, into a
+pitch-blackness that made the night outside seem
+bright in comparison.</p>
+<p>As Jerry joined Sandy, his added weight made
+the lifeboat lurch to one side, and brought a creak
+from the davits in which the boat was hung. To
+the boys under the canvas, it sounded as loud as a
+scream! Motionless in the dark, they waited for
+the thud of running feet, the tearing back of the
+boat cover, the glare of flashlights&mdash;but none
+came. The only answer to the noise was a thin,
+tuneless whistle from the deck above them. It was
+Turk&rsquo;s fellow sailor, keeping watch for his spying
+friend, and he was as afraid of passing noises as the
+boys were!</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_132">132</div>
+<p>Not daring to move, Sandy and Jerry waited
+for what seemed hours until the slight swaying of
+the lifeboat stopped. As cautiously as they could,
+so as not to start it moving again, they changed
+their positions in such a way as to balance the boat
+better. At last they were stationed one on each
+side of what Sandy could only hope was the engine
+compartment.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How can you work in the dark?&rdquo; Jerry
+whispered. &ldquo;How will you know what&rsquo;s what in
+there?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It shouldn&rsquo;t be too hard,&rdquo; Sandy replied.
+&ldquo;Almost all engines have a lot in common. If I
+can just get my hands on the engine, I think I&rsquo;ll
+know what to do.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Working only by touch, it was not easy to find
+out how the lid to the engine compartment was
+removed. Slowly moving his hands around the
+surfaces of the box, Sandy found two hook-eyes,
+which he carefully unfastened. On the opposite
+side of the box, he found two more, which he also
+undid.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;re in luck,&rdquo; he whispered to Jerry. &ldquo;If
+this had been a hinged top, I don&rsquo;t think we could
+have opened it. There isn&rsquo;t enough headroom
+below this canvas to raise a boxtop this size.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_133">133</div>
+<p>With the greatest of care, making only the
+smallest of scraping noises, they removed the
+heavy lid and placed it across two of the lifeboat&rsquo;s
+seats.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m ready,&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to be
+handing you some parts, Jerry. I want you to put
+them in your shirt. We can&rsquo;t leave them in here,
+and if we threw them overboard, the splash
+would surely be heard. Just be sure they don&rsquo;t
+clank around!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Working noiselessly, Sandy ran his hands over
+the engine, starting from the top of the block. He
+touched and counted the spark plugs&mdash;four of
+them. His own experience with assorted jalopies
+would come in handy here, he thought. Carefully,
+he slipped the wires off the tops of the spark
+plugs. Following the wires to their source, he
+came to the distributor cap. Two clips held it in
+place. These were easily removed. Following the
+wire that came from the center of the distributor
+cap, he came to its end at the spark coil. A small
+pull removed it. Then he handed the whole thing,
+which felt like a mechanical octopus, to Jerry,
+who slipped it into his shirt.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_134">134</div>
+<p>A little more probing brought out two more
+parts from the distributor, both quite small. One
+was the rotor, the other the condenser. &ldquo;With any
+one of these things gone,&rdquo; Sandy whispered, &ldquo;they
+won&rsquo;t be able to run this boat!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Great!&rdquo; Jerry breathed. &ldquo;Now let&rsquo;s get going!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not yet,&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;We still have some
+more to do. I don&rsquo;t want to make it too easy for
+them!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The next thing to go was the fuel pump, as
+Sandy unscrewed from it the glass bowl through
+which the gasoline had to pass. This was followed
+by a small collection of springs from the choke,
+the accelerator and the carburetor.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think that ought to do it,&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;Now
+let&rsquo;s put this engine lid back on, so they can&rsquo;t tell
+right away that somebody&rsquo;s been in here!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It took even more care to replace the lid than it
+had to take it off. It was a tight fit, and really
+needed a blow on the top to make it fit properly
+on the casing, but this could not be done without
+making far too much noise. Finally, they decided
+to leave it unhooked, rather than run the risk of
+giving away their presence in the lifeboat.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_135">135</div>
+<p>Getting out and dropping soundlessly to the
+deck was not easy either, especially for Jerry, with
+the hardware stored in his bulging shirt front.
+Sandy, who had gone first, helped him down, and
+Jerry landed beside him with a muted clinking of
+metal and hard plastic. The slight noise brought
+no warning whistle from Turk&rsquo;s lookout.</p>
+<p>A glance at the deck below showed them why.
+Their eyes, grown accustomed to complete darkness,
+were now able to see quite clearly about the
+freighter&rsquo;s deck. Up forward, near where they had
+hidden below the windlass, stood Jones and the
+white-uniformed little Captain, together with
+Turk, Bull, and several other sailors.</p>
+<p>Apparently the business talk was concluded and,
+much more to the boys&rsquo; concern, the freighter was
+making ready to hoist anchor and set off for ports
+unknown!</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_136">136</div>
+<h2 id="c12"><span class="small">CHAPTER TWELVE</span>
+<br />The Race Begins</h2>
+<p>Even as they watched, a working light mounted
+on the foremast suddenly flooded the foredeck
+with brilliance, bringing the shadowy figures into
+sharp focus, like actors on a brightly lighted stage.</p>
+<p>Instinctively, Sandy and Jerry shrank back into
+the shadow of the life-jacket box, until Sandy
+realized that the bright light on the foredeck
+would make the rest of the ship almost invisible
+to people in its rays.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_137">137</div>
+<p>For a few seconds or more, the boys watched the
+tableau below them until several of the sailors
+ambled over to the windlass. Then Jerry said,
+&ldquo;They&rsquo;re getting ready to hoist the anchor now.
+We have to move fast if we&rsquo;re going to get to our
+boat before Jones gets to his!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Still exercising the greatest care, they re-laced
+the canvas where they had entered the lifeboat,
+then quietly crept alongside the rails under the
+lifeboats until they came to the ladder connecting
+the boat deck to the afterdeck.</p>
+<p>This, fortunately, was both deserted and unlighted,
+the deck crew having all gone forward to
+work on the windlass. The boys made their way
+down to the point where they had come on board
+via the rope ladder, which was still slung over the
+side, waiting for Jones&rsquo;s departure.</p>
+<p>Looking over the bulwark, they saw the two
+sloops below them, bobbing gently in the swell
+that washed against the sheer side of the tall
+freighter. They looked almost unbelievably peaceful,
+and Sandy thought once again about Jones&rsquo;s
+comments about the unsuspicious looks of sailing
+craft. Next to their trim, small shapes, the
+freighter looked every bit as sinister as it had
+actually proved to be!</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This is it,&rdquo; Sandy whispered. &ldquo;Let&rsquo;s make it
+fast!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_138">138</div>
+<p>He stepped over the bulwark and disappeared
+down the rope ladder. Jerry was as close behind
+him as he could get without running the risk
+of stepping on Sandy&rsquo;s hands. A moment more
+brought them to the deck of the sloop.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now comes the hard part,&rdquo; Jerry whispered.
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;ve got to get our sails up and shove off without
+anyone seeing or hearing us&mdash;and it&rsquo;s not
+exactly a quiet job. In fact, if I remember right,
+our slides squeak pretty badly in their track. I
+noticed it when we first took it out, and made a
+mental note to oil the track as soon as we got some
+time.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Maybe we&rsquo;d better not risk it,&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;Is
+there some way we can get away from here without
+having to hoist the sails right away?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well ...&rdquo; Jerry said, &ldquo;if there were enough
+current, we could drift off, but I don&rsquo;t think there
+is. Besides, it would take a long time, and I don&rsquo;t
+think we&rsquo;ve got too much time to waste right
+now.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Suppose we tow it off behind the dinghy?&rdquo;
+Sandy asked. &ldquo;You know, the way we brought it
+out of the harbor for the first day&rsquo;s sail.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good!&rdquo; Jerry exclaimed. But it only took a
+moment&rsquo;s search to assure them that the dinghy
+was not with them. &ldquo;Jones must have left it tied to
+his mooring,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;That puts us back
+where we started.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_139">139</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I guess there&rsquo;s nothing to do but try it with
+our sails,&rdquo; Sandy said. As he started to move
+forward, Jerry stopped him with a hand on his
+shoulder.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Wait a minute! I think I know a way to do
+this! I remember I was once taught about sculling
+with the rudder. You use it like an oar. I&rsquo;ve never
+had to try it, but this is probably the best time.
+C&rsquo;mon! Let&rsquo;s cast off those lines!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Working swiftly, Sandy cast off the bow line
+while Jerry did the same with the line at the stern.
+Then both of them pushed off from the side of
+the freighter, and the little sloop drifted noiselessly
+away from the scarred steel cliff of the huge
+hull.</p>
+<p>The bright light from the foredeck spilled on
+the waters around the bow of the ship, and seemed
+even to light up the sloop. Sandy only hoped that
+whoever was standing lookout on the freighter
+was within that circle of light. If he was in the
+darkness of the upper decks, even the few dim
+beams that reflected from the white hull of the
+little sailboat would shine out like a warning
+beacon against the dark waters!</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_140">140</div>
+<p>Sandy worked his way aft over the cabin roof,
+and dropped into the cockpit to join Jerry at the
+tiller. Jerry was carefully working the tiller backward
+and forward, making small gurgling sounds
+as the rudder swept through the water.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Here&rsquo;s the way it works,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m using
+the rudder like a single stern paddle. Lots of
+boats in the old days used to be run like that. If
+the paddle&rsquo;s properly shaped, it will do a good
+job of propelling a boat. They call a long stern
+oar a sweep, and it&rsquo;s good enough so that it&rsquo;s still
+used on heavy barges in lots of places around the
+world.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Won&rsquo;t it just push the stern around from one
+side to the other?&rdquo; Sandy asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not if you do it carefully,&rdquo; Jerry replied.
+&ldquo;What I&rsquo;m doing is this: I ease the rudder to one
+side, slowly, so as not to row with it. Then I give
+it a strong pull toward me&mdash;like this&mdash;and then
+I shove it halfway back.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As he spoke, he hauled on the rudder, and the
+stern of the sloop swung around a bit, but the return
+motion of the rudder stopped the swinging
+action and steadied the sloop on her course. Sandy
+saw small ripples form a wake behind the boat as
+some forward motion was gained. As Jerry repeated
+the gentling, pulling and returning of the
+rudder, the sloop gained a little more forward
+speed. Slowly, the rusted sides of the black
+freighter slid by them.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_141">141</div>
+<p>&ldquo;So far, so good,&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;If we keep this
+up, we&rsquo;ll be able to get away before we&rsquo;re spotted.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I hope so,&rdquo; Jerry agreed fervently, pulling
+strongly on his improvised sweep. By now the
+sloop was some thirty feet or more away from the
+freighter, and heading past the overhanging stern
+of the big ship. Suddenly, the stillness of the night
+was shattered by a roar and clank of machinery.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s the windlass!&rdquo; Jerry cried. &ldquo;They&rsquo;re
+getting ready to haul up the anchor! Jones must
+be ready to go over to his boat!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Even as he spoke, a flare of work lights came up
+over the freighter&rsquo;s afterdeck, clearly showing
+Jones and the Captain standing by the head of the
+rope ladder, flanked by Turk and Bull. The
+Captain and Jones were shaking hands, apparently
+having concluded a deal on the counterfeit cargo
+that pleased them both. Neither of them had as
+yet looked over the side to see that one of the
+sloops was missing.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We can&rsquo;t chance this any more,&rdquo; Jerry said.
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;re bound to be discovered in another minute,
+when Jones starts over the ladder! Let&rsquo;s get those
+sails up now, and do the best we can!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_142">142</div>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re right,&rdquo; Sandy agreed, swiftly leaping
+atop the cabin roof to reach the main halyards.
+Taking a deep breath, he hauled. With a screech,
+the slides moved stiffly up the track, and the mainsail
+fluttered overhead.</p>
+<p>Moving quickly, Sandy grasped the jib halyard
+and hoisted it aloft while Jerry was fastening the
+main halyard to its cleat. The sloop began to make
+headway in the light breeze. Then, as Sandy
+joined his friend in the cockpit, the sloop sailed
+clear of the shadows that lay below the stern of
+the freighter, and into the circle of light that surrounded
+the afterdeck. At almost the same instant,
+a shout rang out from above them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Look! It&rsquo;s the kids!&rdquo; It was Turk, who, seeing
+the sail like a luminous flag in the water, had
+sounded the alarm.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Get down!&rdquo; Sandy said, pulling Jerry to the
+deck of the cockpit. His action came not a minute
+too soon for a pistol shot rang out. It was followed
+by a volley of shots, as more of the freighter&rsquo;s crew
+got into the action, but the boys were unharmed,
+although two bullets had hit the cabin roof and
+one had plowed a furrow in the deck.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_143">143</div>
+<p>The shooting stopped after a few more stray
+shots were fired, the sloop having by now moved
+out of effective pistol range. Making the best headway
+they could in the light breeze, Sandy and
+Jerry looked back with satisfaction to see the
+freighter&rsquo;s crew working feverishly at the davits
+to get the ship&rsquo;s power gig into the water.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If we can just get enough lead time,&rdquo; Jerry
+said fervently, &ldquo;we&rsquo;ll make it to shore well ahead
+of them!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What if Jones follows in his boat?&rdquo; Sandy
+asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll worry about that if he does,&rdquo; Jerry
+answered. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s a good sailor, but we have a lead
+on him. It&rsquo;ll be our first race, if it happens, and I
+sure hope we win!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>By now the power gig was hanging over the
+side, its davits having been swung into launching
+position. The canvas cover had been removed,
+and several sailors clambered in, waiting for the
+boat to be lowered. With a creak of blocks and
+tackle, the lifeboat was swiftly dropped to the
+water. The boys could see someone bending over
+the engine compartment, trying to get the boat
+started.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Jones&rsquo;ll have a long wait, if he wants to go after
+us in that!&rdquo; Sandy chuckled. &ldquo;That ship is so
+sloppy, I&rsquo;ll bet it will take them an hour just to
+find the parts they need, once they discover what&rsquo;s
+wrong!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_144">144</div>
+<p>But apparently Jones wasn&rsquo;t going to wait. He
+had sized up the situation quickly&mdash;too quickly&mdash;and
+was going over the side and down the rope
+ladder to the other sloop!</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh-oh!&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s going to try to catch
+us in the other sloop! And we haven&rsquo;t got more
+than a few hundred yards on him yet. This is going
+to be some race!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Some race! Sandy realized once again how different
+the meaning of speed is to a sailor and to a
+landsman. Here they were, in a gentle breeze on
+a calm sea, preparing to race for their very lives&mdash;and
+they would probably not sail faster than he
+could walk!</p>
+<p>Consulting the stars, Jerry set a downwind
+course, and the boat headed slowly but steadily
+toward the mainland.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;d do better on some other point of sail,&rdquo;
+Jerry said, &ldquo;but there&rsquo;s one consolation.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s that?&rdquo; Sandy asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;s got to sail on the same course we take, so
+he can&rsquo;t take advantage of any more favorable wind
+than the one we get. That, and the fact that the
+boats are the same, at least puts us on an even
+footing.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_145">145</div>
+<p>By now, Jones and a crew member were in the
+sloop, and were getting the sails up. Sandy
+watched as the mainsail caught the light from the
+freighter, followed almost immediately by the jib.
+The sloop swung about into the trail of light that
+danced on the water between them and the big
+ship, and set her sails for a downwind tack.</p>
+<p>Small waves whispered softly at the bow, and
+bubbles gurgled quietly in the wake. The mainsheet
+hardly pulled at all in Sandy&rsquo;s hand as the
+sail caught all the wind there was to catch. Hardly
+seeming to move at all, the sloop glided slowly
+ahead in the soft night breeze.</p>
+<p>And the toughest race they would ever sail was
+under way!</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_146">146</div>
+<h2 id="c13"><span class="small">CHAPTER THIRTEEN</span>
+<br />A Race of Mistaken Identity</h2>
+<p>&ldquo;Trim your main!&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;Haul back a
+little ... more ... no, let it out a shade ...
+that&rsquo;s it! Cleat it down there!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy followed Jerry&rsquo;s directions carefully,
+hauling at the sheet to get the sail set to its best
+position. Like the airplane wing it resembles, the
+sail must be perfectly shaped to get the maximum
+advantage of the wind. Sandy had learned that this
+was true even on a downwind run, where a sail
+let out too far will spill wind, and a sail sheeted
+in too close will miss too much wind.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_147">147</div>
+<p>Rejoining Jerry on the cockpit seat, Sandy
+looked aft to catch sight of their pursuer. He was
+surprised to see the amount of water that now
+separated them from the freighter, which seemed
+a spot of bright light far behind them. Against
+the light he could see the silhouetted shape of
+Jones&rsquo;s sloop. It seemed to him that they were
+closer than before, and he motioned Jerry to turn
+and look.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re right,&rdquo; Jerry said, guessing at the
+question that had formed in Sandy&rsquo;s mind.
+&ldquo;They&rsquo;re closing in on us, all right. That Jones is
+sure some sailor! We&rsquo;ll have to do better than
+this if we&rsquo;re going to get ashore before they sail
+within pistol range!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What can we do?&rdquo; Sandy asked, his brow
+wrinkling under the blond forelock that hung
+over his eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The only thing we can do is put on more sail,&rdquo;
+Jerry answered. &ldquo;That won&rsquo;t be an easy job with
+just the two of us. And you&rsquo;ve never handled a
+spinnaker.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;d better give me some fast instruction,&rdquo;
+Sandy breathed. &ldquo;First, what&rsquo;s the spinnaker?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_148">148</div>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a big oversized jib, cut like a parachute,&rdquo;
+Jerry replied. &ldquo;You saw a few out in the bay
+yesterday, remember? It&rsquo;s that big sail that flies
+out ahead of the boat. You can only use it on
+downwind sailing, unless you&rsquo;re a lot better sailor
+than I am, and it&rsquo;s the best pulling power you can
+have when the wind&rsquo;s at your back.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do I have to do to help you?&rdquo; Sandy
+asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll have to put it up myself,&rdquo; Jerry told him.
+&ldquo;Your job will be to hold a steady course and to
+keep the sails trimmed the way they are now.&rdquo;
+Sandy grinned. &ldquo;I won&rsquo;t look around to see how
+other boats look this time,&rdquo; he promised. Then he
+sobered. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll do my best to keep her sailing right.
+What&rsquo;ll you be doing?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll have to drop the jib, which will lose us
+some speed for a minute. Then I&rsquo;ll hoist the spinnaker,
+with a pole to the tack&mdash;that&rsquo;s the corner&mdash;to
+swing it outboard to where it will catch the
+wind. Then&mdash;but we can&rsquo;t waste time talking
+about it! I&rsquo;ll show you now and explain some
+other time!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Both boys took another look back, but by now
+the night had swallowed up Jones&rsquo;s sloop, and all
+they could see was the glow of the freighter, growing
+rapidly smaller and fainter behind them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I wonder if Jones has seen that?&rdquo; Sandy said.
+&ldquo;The freighter must be under way. They haven&rsquo;t
+even waited for him, to see how things turn out!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_149">149</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not surprised,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;If Jones catches
+us, they don&rsquo;t have anything to worry about. And
+if he doesn&rsquo;t ... they want to be a long way
+away from here!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Turning their attention back to their own
+problem, Jerry asked Sandy to go below to the
+cabin&rsquo;s sail locker and pull out the sail bags, but
+not to light even a match. The odds were that
+Jones still could not see them, and it was better
+to keep it that way.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How will I know which is the spinnaker?&rdquo;
+Sandy asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We only have two sails below,&rdquo; Jerry answered.
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;re flying the main and genoa jib now. That
+means that the only bags will have the working
+jib and the spinnaker. The working jib is the
+small bag, and the spinnaker will be as heavy as
+the mainsail.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>In the cabin of the sloop it was as dark as it had
+been under the cover of the lifeboat. Sandy groped
+about, searching for the sail locker, which was
+forward of the mast, in the peak of the boat. Finally,
+after tripping a few times, and once bumping
+his head badly, he felt his hands come in contact
+with the brass catch that secured the locker.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_150">150</div>
+<p>Inside were several sail bags, most of them
+empty. He came on one that contained a sail, but
+it was obviously the small working jib. Worried
+now, Sandy burrowed deeper into the locker, and
+at last found a bag that seemed heavier than the
+first. Relieved, he carried it out to the cockpit,
+where Jerry was anxiously looking aft.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Look! If you look just about four points off
+our stern, you can see her!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy squinted to where Jerry had pointed,
+and made out a dim white shape through the darkness,
+surely no more than a few hundred yards
+behind them!</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They&rsquo;re closing in!&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;d better rig
+this thing as fast as I can!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He took the sail bag from Sandy, and crawled
+forward over the cabin. Sandy anxiously handled
+the tiller, hoping that he was keeping the course.
+Overhead, a few dim stars made points of light,
+and he leaned back to line up the masthead with
+one of them. In his right hand, the mainsheet felt
+light&mdash;too light&mdash;and he worried that he had so
+little control over it. What if they were to jibe
+now, as they had on the first day&rsquo;s sail? What if the
+sails were not properly trimmed? And how could
+he be sure they were? How long would it take
+Jones to catch up with them? Taking his eyes for
+a minute from the star and the masthead, he saw
+Jerry kneeling on deck, doing something with the
+sail. Then he looked back to the masthead, and
+fixed all his attention on keeping the boat on a
+steady course.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_151">151</div>
+<p>Suddenly, Jerry was back in the cockpit with
+him, and the sail bag, still full, was dropped on
+the deck at his feet.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s wrong?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sandy, was that the only heavy bag there was?&rdquo;
+Jerry asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s right. The only other bag was so light it
+must have been the jib. What&rsquo;s the matter?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jerry shook his head slowly. &ldquo;We&rsquo;re in real
+trouble now,&rdquo; he answered. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s not a spinnaker
+at all. It&rsquo;s a spare genoa!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But&mdash;but I saw the bag marked spinnaker the
+other day!&rdquo; Sandy spluttered. &ldquo;Why would Uncle
+Russ put a spare genoa in a bag marked for a
+spinnaker?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He wouldn&rsquo;t,&rdquo; Jerry answered. &ldquo;And what&rsquo;s
+more, he didn&rsquo;t. I was able to make out the letters
+on the bag, and they said &lsquo;genoa.&rsquo; Brace yourself
+for a shock, buddy. I <i>know</i> we had a spinnaker
+aboard. And I know we didn&rsquo;t have two jennies!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you mean we&rsquo;ve done it again?&rdquo; Sandy
+gasped.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s right,&rdquo; Jerry said sadly. &ldquo;We goofed
+again, and took Jones&rsquo;s boat instead of yours!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_152">152</div>
+<p>There was nothing to say. They turned in
+silence to look aft at the dim white shape that
+followed them through the night, and that slowly
+ate away at the distance that kept them apart.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_153">153</div>
+<h2 id="c14"><span class="small">CHAPTER FOURTEEN</span>
+<br />Slow-Motion Chase</h2>
+<p>&ldquo;What can we do now?&rdquo; Sandy asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Just what we&rsquo;re doing,&rdquo; Jerry answered mournfully.
+&ldquo;Just sail the best we can and hope that
+he won&rsquo;t close in on us before we come across some
+other boat.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Maybe Jones won&rsquo;t find our spinnaker,&rdquo; Sandy
+suggested. &ldquo;If he thinks he&rsquo;s on his own boat, he
+knows he hasn&rsquo;t got a spinnaker below, and maybe
+he won&rsquo;t see any reason to go poking around in
+our sail locker.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_154">154</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I wouldn&rsquo;t bet on it,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;We can
+make a mistake like this&mdash;and make it twice&mdash;because
+neither of us is really familiar with your
+boat. But a good sailor like Jones knows his own
+boat the way he knows his own living room. He
+isn&rsquo;t going to be fooled the same way we were!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Still,&rdquo; Sandy reasoned, &ldquo;that&rsquo;s no guarantee
+he&rsquo;s going to go to our sail locker, is it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s almost a sure bet,&rdquo; Jerry replied. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s
+probably got Turk looking around now to see
+what kind of extra canvas we might have on board,
+and when he finds that spinnaker, we can kiss our
+chances goodbye!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, he hasn&rsquo;t found it yet,&rdquo; Sandy said stubbornly.
+&ldquo;And until he does, there must be something
+we can do to get more speed out of this
+boat!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Stirring out of his gloom, Jerry trimmed the
+mainsheet and then the jib. Then suddenly he
+brightened. &ldquo;Say! I remember reading about one
+trick that might help us. It&rsquo;s called wing-and-winging.
+What you do is rig the jib on the opposite
+side from the mainsail when you&rsquo;ve got the wind
+at your back. It&rsquo;s supposed to act almost like a
+spinnaker.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, let&rsquo;s do it!&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;What do you
+want me to do?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_155">155</div>
+<p>&ldquo;You just hold the course, like before,&rdquo; Jerry
+explained. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll go forward and re-rig. When I tell
+you to, you uncleat the jenny sheet, and I&rsquo;ll swing
+the sail around on the other side and brace it out.
+I&rsquo;ll use the boat hook for a whisker pole to hold it
+in place. Maybe this&rsquo;ll turn the trick!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He clambered forward, and once more Sandy
+was left alone with the tiller, the star and the
+masthead. For a few minutes he thought only of
+holding the course, until he heard Jerry&rsquo;s voice,
+&ldquo;Now!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Leaning forward, Sandy uncleated the sheet
+which held the genoa jib in trim, where it had
+flown almost useless before the mainsail. He
+watched eagerly as Jerry hauled the sail around to
+the windward side, lashed the boat hook to the
+clew and swung the big triangle outboard. Almost
+instantly, the jenny started to fill, and Sandy felt
+the little sloop start forward.</p>
+<p>Jerry quickly leaped into the cockpit and
+secured the sheet, trimming the billowing sail.
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s working!&rdquo; he panted. &ldquo;This may just turn
+the trick!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They listened in satisfaction to the increased
+sound of the waves slipping past the sloop&rsquo;s sides
+and muttering in the wake. They could actually
+feel the difference in the motion of the boat.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_156">156</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Jones has probably had his jib winged out all
+this time,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s why he&rsquo;s been
+closing in on us so fast. Maybe this will keep the
+distance the way it is until we can get ashore or
+get help!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I sure hope so!&rdquo; Sandy agreed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Just hope he doesn&rsquo;t find that spinnaker! As
+long as we&rsquo;re both flying the same sail area, and
+as long as we&rsquo;re both heading downwind, there&rsquo;s
+not much he can do to catch us. Running before
+the wind this way, equal boats with equal canvas
+flown in the same way will come out just about
+the same. It&rsquo;s on a reach, or beating against the
+wind that expert sail handling really makes the
+difference. And I&rsquo;m sure glad we&rsquo;re not on some
+other point of sail, because Jones would outsail
+us every time!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>With that thought to cheer them, the boys
+sailed in silence. Above them, clouds occasionally
+blotted out the stars of the dark moonless night,
+and it was hard to set a course by any one of them.
+At the helm, Jerry steered as much by the feel of
+the wind on his back as by the stars he could see.</p>
+<p>Behind them always, never drawing any nearer,
+but never falling astern, was the white blur of
+Jones&rsquo;s canvas. It was as if the two boats were tied
+together with a fixed length of cable or a rigid
+bar that would not allow the gap between them to
+change.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_157">157</div>
+<p>The race went slowly. It was like a chase in
+some fantastic dream, Sandy thought, a dream
+where he was running in slow motion, trying with
+every ounce of strength to make his legs go faster.</p>
+<p>But there was a difference, for here there was
+no exertion, no strain, except on the nerves. Here
+all was, to a casual glance, peaceful and pleasant.
+If any boat were to pass, all its passengers would
+see would be two pretty sloops, out for a night-time
+sail.</p>
+<p>Suppose another boat did come? How would
+they know? Then Sandy remembered the flare
+pistol. He had put it on the seat when they had
+come aboard! Maybe the bulky brass gun would
+come in handy again! He searched the night for
+some sign of a boat&rsquo;s running lights, but saw only
+the same black sea and sky on all sides. Still, perhaps
+nearer shore....</p>
+<p>The nightmarish quality of the race increased
+as each moment wore on. It seemed to Sandy that
+he was doomed to sail on forever, like the legendary
+Flying Dutchman, never getting to shore,
+never getting within hailing distance of another
+boat.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_158">158</div>
+<p>He strained his eyes against the darkness ahead,
+and then turned to look astern at the following
+shape of Jones&rsquo;s boat, stubbornly staying with
+them at the same fixed distance. He almost wished
+that Jones would in some way catch up, just to
+break the tension. Maybe in a fight, there would
+be a chance! At least, they wouldn&rsquo;t just be sitting
+and waiting.</p>
+<p>As he watched, something on the pursuing
+sloop seemed to change. A shimmer of white sails,
+then nothing.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Jerry!&rdquo; Sandy whispered, gripping his friend&rsquo;s
+arm. &ldquo;Look back there! I thought I saw something
+change in his sails. I couldn&rsquo;t tell for sure, but
+doesn&rsquo;t it seem to you that the shape is different
+now?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jerry squinted back at Jones&rsquo;s boat. &ldquo;I think
+you&rsquo;re right,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;It looks as if he&rsquo;s changed
+his sail trim some way. I wonder what he&rsquo;s got up
+his sleeve this time?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you think he&rsquo;s found our spinnaker?&rdquo;
+Sandy asked.</p>
+<p>As if in answer, the white shape behind them
+altered once more. A new piece was added to it&mdash;a
+long, flapping shape. As they watched, fascinated
+and fearful, but unable to do a thing, the long
+white triangle billowed out, changed into a full,
+taut shape and lifted high above the deck of
+Jones&rsquo;s boat.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_159">159</div>
+<p>&ldquo;So that&rsquo;s a spinnaker,&rdquo; Sandy said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It sure is,&rdquo; Jerry answered grimly. &ldquo;Take a
+good look at it, because it may turn out to be the
+last one we&rsquo;ll ever see!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_160">160</div>
+<h2 id="c15"><span class="small">CHAPTER FIFTEEN</span>
+<br />Turn and Turn Again</h2>
+<p>As Jones&rsquo;s spinnaker filled and lofted, a fresh
+breeze came up from astern, tugged at the rigging,
+tightened the sails and sent the boys&rsquo; sloop ahead
+at a sharper pace.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Feel the breeze!&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;Maybe that&rsquo;ll
+help us out of trouble!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I wouldn&rsquo;t bet on it,&rdquo; Jerry replied. &ldquo;The
+same breeze is helping Jones, and he&rsquo;s got an awful
+big sail up to catch it!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Even so, Jerry,&rdquo; Sandy objected, &ldquo;I seem to remember
+you saying something that ought to give
+us a chance now....&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_161">161</div>
+<p>&ldquo;If you do, you&rsquo;d better let me know,&rdquo; Jerry
+said, &ldquo;because I sure don&rsquo;t feel very full of ideas
+now.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy wrinkled his brow and strained at his
+memory. There seemed to be some fact, some idea
+half remembered from all Jerry had told him, that
+ought to help. He looked astern, and the sight of
+Jones&rsquo;s sloop bearing down on them and swiftly
+closing the gap between the two racing boats,
+seemed to have just the stimulating effect he was
+looking for.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know!&rdquo; he almost shouted. &ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t you say
+that we can do better on a reach than a boat with
+a spinnaker can do downwind?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s right,&rdquo; Jerry said doubtfully. &ldquo;But we
+have to sail a downwind course to get to shore.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, what&rsquo;s your hurry?&rdquo; Sandy asked. &ldquo;Why
+don&rsquo;t we put off going ashore just now? I mean, if
+we take off on a reach, maybe we can lose Jones in
+the dark before he can change sails to follow us. If
+we can just put some distance between us, we can
+head back for shore later!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_162">162</div>
+<p>Jerry clapped Sandy on the shoulder and
+shouted, &ldquo;You&rsquo;re right!&rdquo; Then he looked back at
+Jones&rsquo;s boat, clear in shape, but not in detail. &ldquo;I
+wish I could see how he has his spinnaker sheeted,
+but I can&rsquo;t make it out. Still, let&rsquo;s just take a
+chance.&rdquo; He looked at Sandy in admiration. &ldquo;Boy,
+you&rsquo;re sure catching on fast! That was a real racing
+sailor&rsquo;s idea!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Carefully selecting the best course to give their
+boat the most speed and to lose the least time in
+putting about, Jerry instructed Sandy.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;re going to jibe,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;but don&rsquo;t worry.
+This is going to be deliberate, not accidental. It&rsquo;s
+the accidental jibes that wreck the rigging. We&rsquo;re
+going to put about this way so&rsquo;s not to waste time
+shifting the genoa jib to the other side. As soon
+as I&rsquo;ve got that whisker pole ready to come off,
+we&rsquo;ll do it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He went forward, and after a moment&rsquo;s work,
+quickly returned to the cockpit. &ldquo;Ready now,&rdquo;
+Jerry said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll take the tiller and you take the
+mainsheet. As I start to put about, you haul in on
+the sheet, until the boom is right over the keel
+of the boat. Then I&rsquo;ll put her hard over, and you
+let the sail out evenly on the other side until I say
+stop. Got it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy wasn&rsquo;t sure, but he figured that this was
+no time for more detailed instruction on the art
+of the deliberate jibe. Holding the mainsheet, and
+his breath, he silently hoped that he knew what
+he was doing. One mistake now&mdash;the wrong kind
+of jibe, that could wreck the rigging&mdash;would
+surely put them back in Jones&rsquo;s hands.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_163">163</div>
+<p>He watched Jerry carefully, and, following his
+instructions, started to haul in on the mainsheet.
+It came very lightly and easily. Remembering the
+terrific force of the jibe on the first day&rsquo;s sailing,
+though, Sandy knew enough not to be fooled by
+appearances. He shortened the sheet so that he
+would not be taken unawares when the wind
+caught the mainsail on its new tack.</p>
+<p>A few seconds of hauling and shortening
+brought the mainsail directly over the center of
+the boat, with the sheet securing it tightly against
+the dangerous sudden jibe. Then, as Jerry brought
+the sloop about hard on her new course, the wind
+took the sail. The boat heeled far over, leaning its
+lee side into the waves through which they were
+cutting with a new speed.</p>
+<p>Sandy held hard to the sheet, the pull of which
+was almost cutting his hand. The load of wind in
+the taut sail transmitted its strength to the sheet,
+and became a hauling, tug-of-war enemy.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Let her out!&rdquo; Jerry shouted. &ldquo;More! More!
+Okay ... hold her there!&rdquo; Sandy felt some of the
+pull lessen as he allowed the sail to swing farther
+out over the side. &ldquo;Good,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;Now
+take the tiller&mdash;hold everything as it is&mdash;while I
+free the jenny and trim it properly.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_164">164</div>
+<p>Sandy, the mainsheet wound tightly about his
+right hand, took the tiller in his left, while Jerry
+went forward to do his job. He was burning with
+eagerness to look back to see how their maneuver
+had affected Jones, but he didn&rsquo;t dare. He had
+too much to think about to take his eyes away even
+for a second from his own work of sailing. This
+was the first time he had handled both the tiller
+and mainsheet and it was really the first time he
+had actually handled the boat. There was a new
+sense of command now and of real control. The
+feel of the boat was complete. It almost seemed
+alive. His hands told him how a change of rudder
+position worked a change on the sail, or how a
+shift of the mainsail, a few inches in or out, affected
+the pull on the helm.</p>
+<p>In a few minutes, Jerry was back in the cockpit,
+trimming the genoa sheet and setting the sail
+in its best shape ahead of and overlapping the
+mainsail. When all was made fast, he took the
+tiller from Sandy once more, and the boys were at
+last free to look back.</p>
+<p>What they saw was not encouraging. As they
+had expected, the change of course had increased
+the distance between them and Jones, but the
+distance was not great enough to take them out
+of sight. A few minutes of looking revealed that
+they were not likely to outdistance Jones on this
+tack any more than they had on the downwind
+run.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_165">165</div>
+<p>&ldquo;How come we can&rsquo;t beat him?&rdquo; Sandy asked.
+&ldquo;He surely hasn&rsquo;t had time to get his spinnaker
+down and his genoa up, has he?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He didn&rsquo;t have to,&rdquo; Jerry answered. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s
+using his spinnaker now as if it were a genoa. It&rsquo;s a
+good stunt. What he did was to bring the spinnaker
+pole forward and lash it to the deck, so that
+it made a kind of bowsprit. Then he sheeted the
+sail flat. It makes a powerful sail that way.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What if he wants to go on the opposite tack?&rdquo;
+Sandy asked. &ldquo;How can he put about?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jerry grinned. &ldquo;I think you&rsquo;ve done it again,
+Skipper,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s the best question you&rsquo;ve
+asked all night!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; Sandy asked, puzzled.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I mean that he can&rsquo;t put about on the other
+tack without an awful lot of trouble. We can, and
+we will, and with luck we&rsquo;ll lose him that way!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This time the maneuver was a familiar one of
+bringing the sloop up into the wind, shifting the
+genoa jib and coming off the wind to the new
+tack. It was performed smoothly, both boys working
+like an experienced crew.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_166">166</div>
+<p>On the new tack, they looked about once more
+for Jones&rsquo;s following sloop. As they had hoped,
+the strange zigzag they had described had left him
+far astern, but still in sight. Even as they watched,
+they saw Jones drop his spinnaker and re-rig it on
+the new tack. Once more, he was in pursuit!</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve never seen anyone handle sails that well,&rdquo;
+Jerry said in unwilling admiration.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you think we can outmaneuver him?&rdquo;
+Sandy asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, we might keep up the sort of thing we&rsquo;ve
+been doing,&rdquo; Jerry answered. &ldquo;If we keep changing
+tacks, we can probably keep him out of close
+shooting range all night. Then, by morning, we
+can hope to see some other boats and maybe get
+help. There&rsquo;s only one thing wrong with that
+plan, though.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know,&rdquo; Sandy offered. &ldquo;We&rsquo;re all right as
+long as we don&rsquo;t make any mistakes. But the
+minute we goof on one maneuver, we lose the
+race! Right?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_167">167</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Right,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;Still, I don&rsquo;t see what else
+we can do but try. We haven&rsquo;t got much choice.&rdquo;
+As they sailed on in silence, Sandy reviewed
+their situation. The trouble with their plan was
+a simple one. They had to do a perfect job of sailing,
+and he doubted whether they were up to it.
+All Jones had to do was follow their maneuvers,
+and when they made their first mistake, he would
+close in. There was no hope, he could see, in waiting
+for Jones to make the first mistake himself.
+The man was too good for that.</p>
+<p>If only they could find some new way to take the
+initiative, things might work out, Sandy thought.
+This cat-and-mouse game couldn&rsquo;t possibly do any
+good. Besides, even if they could hold out till day-light,
+there was no guarantee that they would get
+help from any other boat before Jones could finish
+the job. After all, lack of light was all that was preventing
+Jones from firing at them now. When
+morning came, it would most likely be accompanied
+by a hail of shots!</p>
+<p>The more Sandy thought, the less it seemed that
+they could find a way out of their desperate straits.
+Then his gloomy thoughts were interrupted by
+Jerry.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Got any more ideas?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;I know it&rsquo;s my
+turn to think up a good one, but I can&rsquo;t seem to
+come up with a thing.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; Sandy answered. &ldquo;It seems to
+me though, that we&rsquo;re going to have to do something
+really different now if we&rsquo;re going to get
+back to shore in one piece!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then he suddenly sat up straighter, pushing
+back his blond forelock. &ldquo;Jerry! I think I have an
+idea!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_168">168</div>
+<p>&ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; Jerry asked eagerly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It may sound crazy, but I want to go back on
+a downwind course again!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jerry looked puzzled. &ldquo;A downwind course?
+Sandy, we don&rsquo;t have a chance that way! That&rsquo;s
+the way we were sailing when Jones first started
+after us, and with his spinnaker in place, he&rsquo;ll have
+us in no time!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know,&rdquo; Sandy said, &ldquo;but I have an idea that
+might work this time. I want Jones to get close&mdash;real
+close&mdash;to try this!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jerry shook his head. &ldquo;It sounds nutty to me,&rdquo;
+he said, &ldquo;but if you think you&rsquo;ve got something
+that&rsquo;ll work, I&rsquo;m game. Just tell me what....&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not now, Jerry,&rdquo; Sandy cut him off. &ldquo;Let&rsquo;s just
+change course while I work out the details. If we
+don&rsquo;t do this now, I might lose my nerve!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll do it,&rdquo; Jerry agreed, shaking his head
+doubtfully from side to side. &ldquo;But what worries
+me isn&rsquo;t that you might lose your nerve. I&rsquo;m afraid
+that you&rsquo;ve already lost your mind!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_169">169</div>
+<h2 id="c16"><span class="small">CHAPTER SIXTEEN</span>
+<br />The End of the Race</h2>
+<p>It was still pitch-dark on the Pacific, miles off
+Cliffport, but Sandy saw a dim, gray smear of light
+in the east that told him dawn was not too far off.
+Dawn&mdash;and the shots it would bring from Jones
+and Turk!</p>
+<p>If his plan didn&rsquo;t work now, it would never
+work, he knew. This was to be really a one-shot
+try! But better to try, he felt, than to tack aimlessly
+back and forth, waiting for Jones to close in.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_170">170</div>
+<p>Almost mechanically, Sandy helped Jerry put
+the sloop about on her new course before the
+wind. Once again the genoa jib was held out wing-and-wing
+with the boat hook, and once again the
+mainsheet exercised only a light pull in his hand.
+With everything set, Sandy and Jerry turned their
+attention to the sloop behind them.</p>
+<p>The pursuing white sails shone dimly through
+the darkness as Jones followed them in their
+course. His spinnaker, released from its duty as a
+genoa, was once more flying full and round before
+him, taking advantage of every puff of wind at his
+back. It was a foregone conclusion that he would
+catch them now, unless they were even faster than
+before in putting about on some new tack.</p>
+<p>Jerry could not stand the suspense a moment
+longer. &ldquo;Sandy, what are you going to do?&rdquo; he
+cried. &ldquo;Whatever it is, if we don&rsquo;t do it now,
+we&rsquo;re goners!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not yet,&rdquo; Sandy muttered. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s got to get
+closer!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If he gets any closer, he&rsquo;s going to start shooting,&rdquo;
+Jerry replied. &ldquo;What do we do then?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ve got to be ready for it,&rdquo; Sandy answered.
+&ldquo;I expect him to shoot, and I expect him to start
+pretty soon. In fact, we&rsquo;d better get down as far
+as possible right now!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_171">171</div>
+<p>Both boys sat together on the cockpit deck, Jerry
+awkwardly steering and Sandy holding the mainsheet
+in his left hand. &ldquo;You steer, Jerry,&rdquo; he said.
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to turn around so I can keep an eye
+on Jones. I expect the fireworks to start any
+minute now!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I can do without the entertainment,&rdquo; Jerry
+said. Then he added once more, &ldquo;Boy, I sure hope
+you know what you&rsquo;re doing! If you don&rsquo;t....&rdquo;
+His voice trailed off.</p>
+<p>Half kneeling, Sandy crouched by the stern seat,
+keeping as much under cover as possible. Over the
+edge of the afterdeck he saw Jones&rsquo;s sloop, closer
+now than it had been ever since their fantastic race
+had begun. For some reason, Jones was holding
+back, not closing in as fast as he had been before.
+Sandy knew that he must be puzzled, and trying
+to figure out what their next move would be. His
+success depended on outthinking them as much as
+it did on outsailing them, and his skill lay largely
+in his ability to guess what maneuver the boys
+were going to try next. This time, Sandy thought,
+he must really be baffled. No one in his right mind
+would try to escape as they were doing!</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_172">172</div>
+<p>For minutes that seemed like hours, the chase
+continued with Jones making no effort to advance.
+Then, Sandy realized, Jones made up his mind to
+attack. His sails were trimmed fuller, his spinnaker
+lofted higher, and a white bow wave broke
+out to signify Jones&rsquo;s new speed. There wasn&rsquo;t
+much time left now before things would start
+popping!</p>
+<p>By now, less than one hundred yards separated
+the two boats. Not much more distance, Sandy
+thought, than a target range. Still, it wasn&rsquo;t quite
+close enough....</p>
+<p>A shot! As they heard the crack of the pistol, the
+whine of the bullet passed overhead! Another shot&mdash;another&mdash;and
+a piece of the coaming splintered
+off uncomfortably close to Sandy&rsquo;s ear!</p>
+<p>Jones&rsquo;s boat surged on, preceded by a rain of
+shots. Now less than fifty yards of water were between
+them! More shots followed, mostly going
+through the sails. With a <i>thunk</i>, one hit the hull&mdash;another
+gouged up the deck&mdash;a third hit the tiller,
+not six inches from Jerry&rsquo;s hand.</p>
+<p>Jerry&rsquo;s face looked white as he craned his neck
+to look up at his friend. &ldquo;Whatever you&rsquo;re planning,
+I wish you&rsquo;d tell me now,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Because
+I may not be around to see the big moment when
+it comes!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll be here,&rdquo; Sandy said, &ldquo;because the big
+moment is now! Turn around with me and watch
+Jones&rsquo;s boat. If this works, it&rsquo;s going to be something
+worth watching!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_173">173</div>
+<p>As Jerry changed his position, he saw for the
+first time that Sandy had the big brass flare gun in
+his hand! He was cocking it carefully, and keeping
+an eye on Jones&rsquo;s sloop which seemed to be almost
+ready to ram them. Lying flat on the foredeck of
+the pursuing boat, they could clearly see the figure
+of Turk, hurriedly reloading his pistol.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re not going to try to shoot him with
+that?&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;Those things are way too inaccurate!
+You won&rsquo;t stand a chance!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not him,&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;It!&rdquo; He steadied the
+flare gun on the edge of the afterdeck and squinted
+down its length, aiming at the spinnaker!</p>
+<p>Seeing now what Sandy was attempting, Jerry
+crouched beside him and held his breath. Sandy
+waited till almost the last possible minute until,
+just as Turk was raising his pistol to fire once
+more, he released the flare.</p>
+<p>A dazzling arc of fire leaped from the brass
+muzzle straight for the bellying spinnaker! It
+landed in a shower of sparks, bright enough to
+show them Turk&rsquo;s astonished face turned upward
+to see what had hit them. The shot had hit
+squarely in the center of the ballooning sail, burning
+a small, red-ringed hole which slowly spread.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_174">174</div>
+<p>Would this be all? Just a spreading ring of coals
+that would die in a minute or two? If this was all,
+it was not enough! Then, just as Sandy was beginning
+to fear that he had made a mistake that might
+well cost them everything, the sail burst into
+flame!</p>
+<p>The column of fire shot straight upward into
+the blackness of the night, vividly illuminating
+both boats. In its brilliant light, the boys saw
+Turk stand up, black against the flames, then
+leap overboard.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;One down!&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;But what about
+Jones?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As the flaming spinnaker spread its fire to the
+mainsail and the mast, they saw Jones rise in the
+cockpit, level his rifle and shoot. Six shots rang
+out in quick succession, and all six whizzed harmlessly
+by. Then Jones flung his empty gun into the
+sea and turned his attention to the fire.</p>
+<p>Jerry and Sandy sailed slowly away from the
+flaming scene, and then started to sail in a circle
+around it, still watching Jones. He had gotten a
+bucket from below, and was throwing sea water,
+as fast as he could scoop it up, over the burning
+and the unburned parts of the sloop. The fire was
+gaining though, and his efforts were obviously
+doomed to failure.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If he hadn&rsquo;t been so busy shooting when the
+fire started,&rdquo; Jerry said, &ldquo;he would have stood a
+good chance of putting it out. The delay is going
+to sink him!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_175">175</div>
+<p>Jones worked feverishly until the last possible
+moment, until the decks and the cabin were
+aflame, and the fire had spread to the little cockpit.
+Finally, when it was obvious that there was no
+more he could do, he kicked off his shoes and
+jumped over the side.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do we do now?&rdquo; Sandy asked. &ldquo;We can&rsquo;t
+just leave them there to drown. They probably
+deserve it, but I don&rsquo;t think it&rsquo;s up to us to judge
+what kind of sentence they get.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re right,&rdquo; Jerry agreed. &ldquo;But if we take
+them aboard, we won&rsquo;t stand much of a chance
+against them. Why don&rsquo;t we try to find them and
+toss them a couple of life jackets so they can stay
+afloat while we make up our minds?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It was no trouble to find Turk, who came
+swimming up to the side to beg to be taken
+aboard. Sandy kept the empty flare pistol aimed
+at him while Jerry looked for the life jackets.
+When he had found them, he tossed one over the
+side, and Turk struggled into it. Then, still
+frightened of the flare gun which he did not know
+was empty, he held up his hands tamely to allow
+Jerry to tie them together.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now will ya lemme come on board?&rdquo; he
+pleaded.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_176">176</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think so,&rdquo; Sandy answered. &ldquo;I think
+you&rsquo;ll be safer at the end of a long line. Just relax,
+and we&rsquo;ll tow you back to shore!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>With Turk in tow, the sloop handled rather
+sluggishly as the boys circled the scene of the fire
+searching for Jones. The bright light of the flames
+had died to a glowing, dull orange which was soon
+to go out altogether as the sloop settled lower and
+lower in the water.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What we need is a searchlight,&rdquo; Jerry said.
+&ldquo;We may never find him unless he swims to us the
+way Turk did!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Listen!&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;If I&rsquo;m not mistaken, I
+hear a searchlight coming now!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Turning in the direction of the new sound of
+powerful marine motors, they were met with a
+bright searchlight beam, which swept from them
+to the burning sloop and back again. For the first
+time since their adventure had started, Sandy felt
+a genuine feeling of relief, as the Coast Guard
+cutter reversed its engines and came to a neat stop
+alongside.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_177">177</div>
+<h2 id="c17"><span class="small">CHAPTER SEVENTEEN</span>
+<br />Another Discovery</h2>
+<p>With the arrival of the Coast Guard, the problem
+of finding Jones solved itself. He quickly
+realized the hopelessness of his position and swam
+in from the darkness toward the cutter and the
+sloop, tamely giving himself up.</p>
+<p>It was only after he and Turk had both been
+taken on board the Coast Guard vessel and placed
+under guard that the captain of the cutter, Lieutenant
+Ames, started to ask the necessary questions.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_178">178</div>
+<p>He listened, absorbed in the story, until Sandy
+had finished talking. Then he sighed. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s
+quite a yarn, boys. It sounds pretty wild. For your
+sakes, I hope that you can show some evidence to
+back it up. Otherwise, all we have is your word.
+Now, your word may be good enough for me&mdash;&rdquo;
+he held up a hand to forestall Sandy&rsquo;s objections&mdash;&ldquo;but
+it&rsquo;s going to take more than that to make a
+charge of counterfeiting stick in a court of law.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ve <i>got</i> more than that!&rdquo; Sandy said angrily.
+&ldquo;We can show you the island, and unless I miss
+my guess, we&rsquo;ll find Jones&rsquo;s counterfeiting presses
+there!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I hope so,&rdquo; Lieutenant Ames said. &ldquo;Meanwhile,
+since you&rsquo;ve made charges against these
+men, I&rsquo;ll hold them in custody until we get ashore.
+Then I&rsquo;ll turn them and the whole case over to
+the FBI, where it belongs.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>His official statement done, Lieutenant Ames
+relaxed into a boyish grin. &ldquo;You can get those
+scowls off your faces now,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I just wanted
+you to realize that we&rsquo;ve got to have good, solid
+proof before this business is over with. As for me,
+I believe your story, and I think the FBI will,
+too.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not too worried about proving our story
+about Jones and Turk,&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;But what
+worries me is how we&rsquo;re going to get the freighter,
+now that it&rsquo;s out of U.S. coastal waters.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_179">179</div>
+<p>&ldquo;The Navy will take care of them,&rdquo; Lieutenant
+Ames said. &ldquo;But that reminds me, you didn&rsquo;t tell
+me the name of the freighter, and we&rsquo;ll need to
+radio that to the Navy right away.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I noticed the name on the lifeboat,&rdquo; Jerry said.
+&ldquo;It was the <i>Mary N. Smith</i>, from Weymouth.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No!&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;You must have gotten it
+mixed up in the darkness. I saw it clear as day on
+the stern. It was the <i>Martin South</i> from Yarmouth!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure I had it right,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;I remember
+thinking to myself that it was a pretty
+innocent, girlish name for such a dirty freighter!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Maybe you&rsquo;re both right,&rdquo; Lieutenant Ames
+said. &ldquo;It sounds to me as if both names have a lot
+in common. They probably have a set of phony
+papers under each name&mdash;and maybe under
+three or four more names that sound a lot like
+those. That way, all they have to do is paint out
+and change a few letters after each port, instead
+of having the whole job to do. It allows them to
+make quick shifts of identity.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It also lets them explain that they were picked
+up because of an accidental similarity of names,
+in case of trouble,&rdquo; Jerry put in. &ldquo;I wonder what
+name they&rsquo;re using now,&rdquo; he added.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_180">180</div>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s pretty easy to guess,&rdquo; the Coast Guard
+officer said. &ldquo;If I were changing names after
+leaving a port, I&rsquo;d paint the bow and stern while
+I was at anchor, and leave the lifeboats and other
+things for when I was at sea. My guess is that
+we&rsquo;ll find them sailing as the <i>Martin South</i> from
+Yarmouth.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Unless,&rdquo; Sandy added, &ldquo;unless they decided to
+change it to something else while at sea, after the
+trouble. After all, they have no idea whether Jones
+got us or we got him, and they&rsquo;ll probably be expecting
+to get picked up.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, we won&rsquo;t take any chances,&rdquo; Ames said.
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll radio the Navy now to be on the lookout for
+any freighter with a name anything like <i>Martin
+South</i> or <i>Mary N. Smith</i>. And if I know those boys,
+we&rsquo;ll have a report on them within the next few
+hours!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>After giving his instructions to the radio operator,
+Ames decided it was time to head for shore
+and turn over Jones, Turk and the boys to the
+FBI. It was decided to take the sloop in tow
+behind the cutter, and Sandy went over the side
+to find a towing line to hand up to the cutter&rsquo;s
+deck.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come on over with me,&rdquo; Sandy said, &ldquo;and
+I&rsquo;ll show you some of the bullet holes we&rsquo;re carrying.
+They ought to help support our story!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_181">181</div>
+<p>Lieutenant Ames followed Sandy over the side
+and joined him on the deck of the little sloop,
+where he examined the holes in the sail and the
+furrows in the deck and the coamings. &ldquo;They sure
+came close!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re pretty lucky to be
+here in one piece now.&rdquo; He ran his finger thoughtfully
+along a deep scar in the coaming near where
+Sandy&rsquo;s head had been, and whistled low when he
+saw the splintered spot on the tiller.</p>
+<p>Lieutenant Ames followed Sandy below in
+search of the spare mooring line. (The original
+one had been left dangling from the deck of the
+freighter.) He stood stooped over in the low cabin,
+surveying the trim accommodations. At last, Sandy
+found a line that would do, stowed away up
+forward with the anchor.</p>
+<p>Joining Ames in the cabin, he pointed to the
+locker above the compact galley. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s where
+we found the money when we went looking for the
+canned food,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;It was filled up all the way
+to here,&rdquo; he indicated, sliding back the locker
+door.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do you mean, <i>was</i>?&rdquo; the Coast Guard
+officer asked with a gasp. The open locker door revealed
+the stacked counterfeit, untouched, just as
+the boys had first seen it!</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Whew!&rdquo; Sandy sighed. &ldquo;Well, I guess <i>that</i>
+takes care of our case against Jones!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_182">182</div>
+<p>As they towed the sloop back to Cliffport, heading
+into the bright colors of a Pacific sunrise, they
+pieced together what must have happened.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;From what we overheard on the freighter,&rdquo;
+Sandy said, &ldquo;Jones and the freighter captain were
+both dissatisfied with the original deal they had
+made for the counterfeit money. Jones wanted
+more for the stuff, because of the risk he had run
+with us and because of the added chances he was
+taking if we disappeared from Cliffport. A local
+investigation of our disappearance might turn up
+someone who had seen us near his island.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Right,&rdquo; Jerry added. &ldquo;And the Captain wanted
+a larger share than usual for himself because of
+the risk he was running in getting rid of us for
+Jones. They bargained about it for a long time.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lieutenant Ames nodded. &ldquo;And Jones wasn&rsquo;t
+taking any chances by bringing the money on
+board until his deal had been settled. He must
+have been going for it when you saw him and the
+Captain shaking hands on deck. And the reason
+he was so desperate when he saw you sailing off
+was that he knew you were not only escaping,
+but escaping with the evidence!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I guess it&rsquo;s not always a bad thing,&rdquo; Sandy
+laughed, &ldquo;to make the same mistake twice!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_183">183</div>
+<h2 id="c18"><span class="small">CHAPTER EIGHTEEN</span>
+<br />Homeward Bound</h2>
+<p>Three days later, the case ended where it had
+really begun&mdash;back in the Cliffport Boat Yard.
+Only this time, Sandy and Jerry picked their way
+over the timbers and rails with Lieutenant Ames
+instead of with Sandy&rsquo;s Uncle Russ.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I guess you boys are glad this is all over,&rdquo; he
+said. &ldquo;I suppose you&rsquo;re all set for your trip home
+now?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We sure are,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;We just need to buy
+a few things, and we&rsquo;re ready.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_184">184</div>
+<p>&ldquo;It was sure nice of the FBI to let us have
+Jones&rsquo;s sloop as part of the reward,&rdquo; Sandy added.
+&ldquo;I felt pretty bad when I saw my boat on fire. I
+was sure that if we ever got back to shore, we&rsquo;d
+be taking the train home!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There was no sense in keeping it,&rdquo; Ames said.
+&ldquo;Not even for evidence. We had all the evidence
+we needed with that bundle of counterfeit money&mdash;and
+even more than that, with the printing
+press and the plates we found at Jones&rsquo;s little
+resort. And everyone agreed that you ought to
+have it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They walked along the sea wall until they
+reached the corner of the shed, where Lieutenant
+Ames suddenly stopped. &ldquo;As long as you&rsquo;re thanking
+the FBI for the boat,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I think you
+might as well thank the Coast Guard too!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, of course,&rdquo; Sandy said, puzzled. &ldquo;I only
+meant that it was the FBI who really had title to
+it, and they were the ones who decided.... I
+mean, we&rsquo;re grateful to you all.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Ames laughed. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want to keep you in the
+dark,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;The FBI gave you the boat, all
+right, but we decided to pitch in a little, too.
+Look!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They turned the corner of the boat-yard shed.
+In front of them, resting in a high cradle, was the
+sloop, freshly painted and gleaming in the sun,
+her sides as smooth as glass.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_185">185</div>
+<p>After both boys had thanked Lieutenant Ames
+profusely, Jerry asked, &ldquo;How did you ever get so
+much done in just three days?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, that&rsquo;s the Coast Guard way with boats,&rdquo;
+Ames said and he laughed. &ldquo;A whole gang of the
+boys decided to go to work on her, and we did in
+three days what would take most boat yards a
+week or two. It started when we decided to fix up
+the bullet scars, and it just didn&rsquo;t stop until we
+had finished the whole thing!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Climbing to the deck, they inspected the newly
+painted cabin and cockpit, the freshly varnished
+coamings and mast, the almost invisible repairs
+on the decks.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll have her launched within the next
+hour,&rdquo; Lieutenant Ames said. &ldquo;Why don&rsquo;t you go
+into town to buy whatever you need in the meanwhile?
+It shouldn&rsquo;t take you too long to get stores
+for a short trip.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s a good idea,&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;But we&rsquo;re
+going to need more than the regular stores. I&rsquo;m
+going to spend some of that reward money right
+away on a new spinnaker. That&rsquo;s one thing I&rsquo;ve
+decided never to be without again!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not only that,&rdquo; Jerry added, &ldquo;but we want to
+get some more shells for the flare pistol. I don&rsquo;t
+think I&rsquo;ll ever feel comfortable without that on
+board!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_186">186</div>
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s something else, too,&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;I
+think we ought to think up a name for this boat
+right away, and pick up some brass letters for the
+stern. I don&rsquo;t want to keep on making mistakes!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Ames joined in the laughter, then said, &ldquo;That&rsquo;s
+one thing I think you don&rsquo;t have to do. That is,
+unless you don&rsquo;t like the name the Coast Guard
+picked out for you!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Rushing to the stern, Sandy and Jerry leaned
+over to see the shiny brass letters screwed to the
+counter of their sloop. Looked at upside down,
+they spelled:</p>
+<p class="center">REWARD</p>
+<div class="box">
+<h3 id="c19">SANDY STEELE ADVENTURES</h3>
+<p class="center rubric">1. BLACK TREASURE</p>
+<p>Sandy Steele and Quiz spend an action-filled summer
+in the oil fields of the Southwest. In their search for oil
+and uranium, they unmask a dangerous masquerader.</p>
+<p class="center rubric">2. DANGER AT MORMON CROSSING</p>
+<p>On a hunting trip in the Lost River section of Idaho,
+Sandy and Mike ride the rapids, bag a mountain lion,
+and stumble onto the answer to a hundred-year-old
+mystery.</p>
+<p class="center rubric">3. STORMY VOYAGE</p>
+<p>Sandy and Jerry James ship as deck hands on one of
+the &ldquo;long boats&rdquo; of the Great Lakes. They are plunged
+into a series of adventures and find themselves involved
+in a treacherous plot.</p>
+<p class="center rubric">4. FIRE AT RED LAKE</p>
+<p>Sandy and his friends pitch in to fight a forest fire in
+Minnesota. Only they and Sandy&rsquo;s uncle know that
+there is an unexploded A-bomb in the area to add to
+the danger.</p>
+<p class="center rubric">5. SECRET MISSION TO ALASKA</p>
+<p>A pleasant Christmas trip turns into a startling adventure.
+Sandy and Jerry participate in a perilous dog-sled
+race, encounter a wounded bear, and are taken as
+hostages by a ruthless enemy.</p>
+<p class="center rubric">6. TROUBLED WATERS</p>
+<p>When Sandy and Jerry mistakenly sail off in a stranger&rsquo;s
+sloop instead of their own, they land in a sea of trouble.
+Their attempts to outmaneuver a desperate crew are
+intertwined with fascinating sailing lore.</p>
+<p class="center"><b>PUBLISHED BY SIMON AND SCHUSTER</b></p>
+</div>
+<h2 id="tn">Transcriber&rsquo;s Note</h2><ul><li>Copyright notice provided as in the original&mdash;this e-text is public domain in the country of publication.</li>
+<li>Silently corrected apparent typographical errors; left non-standard
+  spellings and dialect unchanged.</li>
+<li>In the original, the last word in the text was printed upside down.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 50353 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
+
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, Troubled Waters, by Robert Leckie
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
+other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions 
+whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
+the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at 
+www.gutenberg.org.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
+to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
+
+
+
+
+Title: Troubled Waters
+       Sandy Steele Adventures #6
+
+
+Author: Robert Leckie
+
+
+
+Release Date: October 31, 2015  [eBook #50353]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TROUBLED WATERS***
+
+
+E-text prepared by Stephen Hutcheson, Dave Morgan, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)
+
+
+
+Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this
+      file which includes the original illustrations.
+      See 50353-h.htm or 50353-h.zip:
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/50353/50353-h/50353-h.htm)
+      or
+      (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/50353/50353-h.zip)
+
+
+Transcriber’s note:
+
+      Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_).
+
+
+
+
+
+Sandy Steele Adventures
+
+TROUBLED WATERS
+
+
+      *      *      *      *      *      *
+
+SANDY STEELE ADVENTURES
+
+Black Treasure
+Danger at Mormon Crossing
+Stormy Voyage
+Fire at Red Lake
+Secret Mission to Alaska
+Troubled Waters
+
+      *      *      *      *      *      *
+
+
+Sandy Steele Adventures
+
+TROUBLED WATERS
+
+by
+
+ROGER BARLOW
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Simon and Schuster
+New York, 1959
+
+All Rights Reserved
+Including the Right of Reproduction
+in Whole or in Part in Any Form
+Copyright © 1959 by Simon and Schuster, Inc.
+Published by Simon and Schuster, Inc.
+Rockefeller Center, 630 Fifth Avenue
+New York 20, N. Y.
+
+First Printing
+
+Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 59-13882
+Manufactured in the United States of America
+by H. Wolff Book Mfg. Co., Inc., New York
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+  CHAPTER                                                           PAGE
+  1 An Unusual Gift                                                    9
+  2 Make Ready to Sail!                                               20
+  3 Shakedown Cruise                                                  33
+  4 The Man with the Gun                                              51
+  5 Storm Fears                                                       67
+  6 Something Lost—Something Found!                                   75
+  7 A Million Dollars’ Worth of Trouble                               82
+  8 Double Blackout                                                   87
+  9 To the Freighter                                                  97
+  10 Aboard the Floating Prison                                      108
+  11 Escape to Danger                                                120
+  12 The Race Begins                                                 136
+  13 A Race of Mistaken Identity                                     146
+  14 Slow-Motion Chase                                               153
+  15 Turn and Turn Again                                             160
+  16 The End of the Race                                             169
+  17 Another Discovery                                               177
+  18 Homeward Bound                                                  183
+
+                   [Illustration: CLIFFPORT CALIFORNIA]
+
+                          [Illustration: SLOOP]
+
+  (1) _Mainsail_
+  (2) _Jib_
+  (3) _Mast_
+  (4) _Boom_
+  (5) _Shrouds_ (_standing rigging_)
+  (6) _Headstay_ (    ”    ”    )
+  (7) _Backstay_ (    ”    ”    )
+  (8) _Rudder_
+  (9) _Tiller_
+  (10) _Mainsheet_
+  (11) _Hawk_
+  (12) _Halyards_
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER ONE
+                            An Unusual Gift
+
+
+Sandy Steele slowly put down the phone and pushed his blond cowlick back
+from his brow. Excitement and confusion were mixed in equal parts in his
+expression as he turned to his father, John Steele, who stood leaning
+against his workbench, idly tossing a piece of quartz crystal in the
+air.
+
+“Wow!” Sandy said. “Leave it to Uncle Russ to come up with a real
+surprise!”
+
+“It certainly seems to be a habit of his,” John Steele smiled. “What do
+you think of this particular surprise?”
+
+“I hardly know what to think,” Sandy answered. “The question is, what do
+you and Mother think? I mean, is it all right if I go—if I can find
+somebody to go with me?”
+
+“Your mother and I discussed this with your Uncle Russ before he called
+you,” Sandy’s father said, “so I guess that’s one worry you don’t have
+to consider. The only problem you have is finding somebody who knows how
+to handle a boat, and who’ll be interested in making this trip with
+you.”
+
+Wrinkling his forehead in thought, Sandy swung his gangling six-foot
+frame up on to the workbench next to his father. “How about you, Dad?”
+he asked. “Do you know anything about sailing a boat?”
+
+His father shook his head. “Sailing is hardly a skill that a government
+field geologist needs to develop. My work is with rocks and minerals—the
+dryest kind of dry land. What I know about water, you could carve on
+granite and put in your watch pocket!”
+
+“Geology didn’t make you into an inventor, a chemist, an electrical
+engineer, a carpenter and gosh knows what else,” Sandy answered, waving
+around him at the crowded workshop with its confusing mass of equipment.
+“I just thought you might have done some reading on this subject, too.”
+
+John Steele smiled. “As the proud but confused owner of a new sailboat,
+one of the first things you’ll learn is that there’s a world of
+difference between theory and practice. I’ve been out on a boat a few
+times; years ago, though. I’ve also read some books on the subject, as
+you thought. But all I know is that I don’t know anything.” He put down
+the quartz crystal and moved away from the workbench. “No,” he said, “if
+you’re going to be able to accept your Uncle Russ’s offer of a sailboat
+as a gift, and if you’re going to sail it on a three-day trip down from
+Cliffport, you’ll have to find someone with practical knowledge to help
+you do it.”
+
+Sandy frowned in concentration. “Finding a sailor in Valley View is
+going to be like finding a ski instructor in the Sahara Desert!” he
+said. “Why, this town is almost one hundred miles inland from the
+ocean!”
+
+“That’s true,” John Steele said; “but it seems to me that I once heard
+you and one of your friends talking about sailing. If I’m not mistaken,
+it was Jerry James, and it sounded to me at the time as if he knew what
+he was talking about.”
+
+“Of course!” Sandy said, slapping his forehead in exasperation. “I don’t
+know why I didn’t think of it! Jerry was a Sea Scout in Oceanhead before
+his family moved to Valley View. It’s just that he’s become so much a
+part of this town that I forget he didn’t grow up here with the rest of
+us. I think he was a Sea Scout for about three years, and he had been
+sailing before he ever joined up. I’m sure he can do it!”
+
+“Well,” his father said, “you’d better hunt him up fast and find out
+whether he can and will. Your uncle expects us to call him back within a
+couple of hours to give him an answer, because he’s leaving the country
+in two days and he wants to get this settled before he goes.”
+
+He had hardly finished his sentence before Sandy was out of the
+workshop, on his bike, and tearing down the tree-shaded street. He was
+sure that Jerry would be able to do it! He remembered their conversation
+well, now that his father had reminded him of it, and he recalled that
+Jerry had said that he practically grew up on boats, and that they were
+the only thing that he missed since moving to Valley View. In the close
+friendship that had grown up between them in the last couple of years,
+Sandy could not think of one time that Jerry had promised something that
+he did not deliver. If he said he could do something, he could do it!
+Sandy smiled, remembering Jerry’s early days in Valley View, his modest
+admission that he “could play a little baseball,” and his first day on
+the diamond. Jerry had immediately shown himself to be the best high
+school catcher in the county. With Sandy as pitcher, they had developed
+into an almost unbeatable battery.
+
+As he pedaled toward the drugstore owned by Jerry’s father, Sandy hoped
+that they would be able to carry their teamwork on in this new venture.
+He could still hardly believe his Uncle Russ’s offer of a sailboat,
+provided he could find someone to teach him how to sail. Like most boys,
+he had read and enjoyed sea stories, although many of the words used
+were strange and meaningless to him. In his reading, he had often
+pictured himself at sea, steering a tall ship through white-capped seas.
+A confused series of sailing words went through his mind: bow, stern,
+helm, topgallant sails, mizzen, poop deck, quarter-deck, galley, batten
+the hatches, go aloft....
+
+He was suddenly brought back to land as he narrowly missed running his
+bike into Pepper March, who refused to hurry for a mere bike. Putting
+the sea dreams firmly out of his mind, he continued more carefully until
+he pulled up in front of James’s Drugstore, where he put his bike in the
+rack under the green-and-white striped awning and hurried into the cool,
+vanilla-smelling store.
+
+Jerry was behind the counter, making up a pineapple ice-cream soda for
+Quiz Taylor who, with two empty glasses in front of him, was impatiently
+waiting for the third.
+
+Sandy climbed onto the stool next to the stubby Quiz and impatiently
+waited until Jerry was through making the soda. When the concoction was
+safely delivered into Quiz’s eager hands, Sandy said, “Jerry, I’ve got
+some real exciting news! In fact, it’s so exciting that I didn’t want to
+tell you while you still had that soda in your hands. I was afraid you’d
+toss the whole thing into the air!”
+
+Having firmly secured both his friends’ attention, Sandy told them about
+the phone call from his Uncle Russ, the offer of the boat, the need for
+instruction and the whole story. When he had finished, Jerry’s
+lantern-jawed face was lit up with a 500-watt grin.
+
+“It sounds as if this is going to be the best vacation of my life!” he
+said. “A boat! I can hardly wait to get going!”
+
+Sandy sighed with relief. “Then you’re sure you can handle it?” he
+asked.
+
+“That’s a good question,” Jerry said, running a hand over his
+close-cropped inky hair. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know because
+you haven’t told me yet what kind of a boat it is. There are plenty that
+I wouldn’t even say I could act as a decent crew member on. Do you know
+what kind it is?”
+
+“Why ... why ... it’s a sailboat!” Sandy said. “I mean, that’s all I
+know about it. Does it make much difference?”
+
+Jerry laughed. “There are almost as many different kinds of boats as
+there are people,” he said. “Nobody but a real Master Mariner would just
+answer that he could sail anything. It’s like being an airplane pilot.
+If you got your pilot’s license flying a Piper Cub, you wouldn’t be
+exactly ready to fly a four-engine jet bomber!”
+
+“Still,” Quiz interrupted thoughtfully, “the principle remains the same
+in both. It’s simply a question of creating a high-speed airstream, so
+directed as to pass over and under an aerodynamically shaped surface
+which, because of the varying degree of arc and the cambered sections
+and angle of attack, produces a lift, drag and momentum proportional to
+the density of the air, the square of the speed and the area of the wing
+or airfoil. It’s simple! What’s more, a sailboat works the same way.”
+Looking pleased with himself, Quiz happily returned his attention to the
+pineapple soda.
+
+“Why, Quiz!” Sandy said. “I didn’t know you could fly!”
+
+“Fly!” Quiz looked up from his soda with a grimace. “The very thought of
+flying makes me sick. If I don’t hold on to the banister, I get dizzy
+when I go up to bed at night!”
+
+All three boys laughed, for this side of Quiz’s personality was a
+standing joke with them. Quiz, formally known as Clyde Benson Taylor,
+was a virtual encyclopedia of obscure information. While he could tell
+you vast amounts about nearly every human activity, the very idea of
+taking part in an activity usually upset him.
+
+“So much for theory,” Jerry said. “Now, to get back to the practical
+realities of sailing a boat—I’d have to know a few things about the kind
+of sailboat you have before I’d be willing to give an answer. There are
+all kinds of boats, of all different sizes. There are sloops, cats,
+cutters, yawls, ketches, schooners and a hundred variations. Did your
+Uncle Russ give you any idea of what he has for you?”
+
+“I think he said it was a sloop,” Sandy said. “And he did say that while
+it was large enough to sleep on and take out on a cruise, it was a
+pretty small boat. He said that anyone who knew how to sail would know
+how to handle it.”
+
+“That sounds right to me,” Jerry said. “I didn’t think that he’d want to
+start you off with a complicated rig or a big boat. If it’s the kind of
+thing I think it is, I’m sure I can sail it, and teach you too.”
+
+“Will I have to learn all about yardarms and fore-topgallant sails and
+things like that?” Sandy asked, somewhat doubtfully.
+
+“Not for quite a while,” Jerry laughed. “You’ve been reading too many
+books about pirates and whalers in the old days. You only find all those
+complicated sail and rigging names on the big square-rigged ships—the
+ones with three and four masts. If your boat is a sloop, it only has one
+mast, one mainsail, and a choice of maybe three other sails, flown one
+at a time with the mainsail. There’s nothing much to learn compared with
+the old full-rigged ships with up to four masts.”
+
+“Five,” Quiz said.
+
+“I never heard of one with more than four,” Jerry commented.
+
+As if he were reading from a book buried deep in his pineapple soda,
+Quiz mumbled around the straws, “The steel ship _Preussen_ was the only
+five-mast full-rigged ship ever built. It was 408 feet long, had masts
+223 feet high, yardarms over 100 feet long and 47 sails totaling 50,000
+square feet.”
+
+Even though Sandy was used to this sort of thing from Quiz, he was more
+impressed than usual. “How would you like to come with us, Quiz?” he
+asked.
+
+“Who, me?” Quiz looked shocked. “I don’t know the first thing about
+boats! No, thanks—I’ll stay safe ashore!”
+
+The next half hour was spent in excitedly discussing the trip to come,
+the possibilities of sailing, the things Sandy would have to learn, and
+the equipment that he and Jerry would have to take along. Finally Sandy
+remembered that his Uncle Russ was expecting a phone call, and that
+Jerry still had to get his parents’ permission to make the trip. They
+agreed to go back to Sandy’s house and let John Steele make the call to
+Jerry’s father so that the adults could satisfy themselves about the
+wisdom of letting the boys take a three-day cruise for Sandy’s first
+trip.
+
+Leaving Quiz in charge of the drugstore’s soda fountain, they quickly
+hiked to the Steele home, where Sandy’s father agreed to make the call.
+
+Getting Jerry’s parents’ consent to the trip proved not to be a
+difficult task. Mr. and Mrs. James obviously had a good deal of
+confidence in Jerry’s ability to handle a sailboat, and both sets of
+parents felt that their level-headed sixteen-year-olds could take such a
+trip on their own. In short order, all of the details were worked out,
+and Sandy was once more on the long-distance phone to speak with his
+Uncle Russ in San Francisco.
+
+“It’s okay!” he shouted, as soon as his uncle answered the telephone.
+“Jerry James, my best friend, used to be a Sea Scout and knows all about
+boats. His parents say he’s a good sailor. We’re ready to start any time
+you want!”
+
+He listened for a minute to his uncle, then said, “Swell! We’ll be
+ready. And thanks a million for the boat!” Hanging up the phone, he
+turned to his father, mother and Jerry with a wide grin.
+
+“Uncle Russ sure doesn’t waste any time,” he said. “He’s leaving now and
+expects to be down here tonight. He says that we’d better get all packed
+and ready, because he wants to take us up to Cliffport tomorrow morning,
+and we’ll have to leave here by six o’clock!”
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER TWO
+                          Make Ready to Sail!
+
+
+“There’s one good thing about riding in this little sports car,” Sandy
+said, and laughed as he eased his cramped six-foot length out of his
+Uncle Russ’s low-slung red racer. “It’s going to make the sailboat seem
+as roomy as a yacht in comparison!”
+
+Sandy pushed his cowlick out of his eyes and stretched as his uncle and
+his friend Jerry followed him out of the little car.
+
+“Don’t worry about the size of the boat,” Jerry said. “I’ll guarantee
+that it’s going to seem pretty big and complicated, no matter how small
+it actually is, until you’ve learned how to sail it. In fact, you’re
+going to find that a boat is a whole new world, full of all kinds of new
+things to get used to. And from what your uncle told us about this one,
+it’ll be more than big enough to keep us both busy for a couple of
+summers to come.”
+
+“I feel as if we’re in a whole new world already,” Sandy replied, “and
+we’re not even on board yet!” He looked about him at the beehive of
+activity that was the Cliffport Boat Yard. “I’ve never seen anything
+like this before!”
+
+From all sides came the sounds of hammering and sawing, and the thin
+whine of electric sanders. The brisk, salty smell of the sea was mingled
+with the sharp odors of paint, varnish and turpentine and the peculiar,
+half-sweet smell of marine engine fuel.
+
+Boats of every size and description were ranged about them. Towering
+high above them, resting in specially built cradles, were long hulls
+with deep, weighted keels like giant fins under them. Heavy frames and
+timbers held these boats upright, and ladders leaned against them to
+where their decks joined their sides, high overhead. Men scrambled up
+and down the ladders with tools and equipment, or sat on the scaffolds
+and frames, painting.
+
+Smaller craft without keels were braced in cradles or frames on the
+ground, or lay bottoms up on racks made of heavy beams that looked like
+railroad ties. Some of the boats were having their bottoms scraped, some
+were being sanded, others were in the process of painting.
+
+At one nearby boat, Sandy saw men hammering on the bottom of the hull
+with big wooden mallets. Jerry explained that these were calking
+hammers, and that they were used to drive oakum into the seams between
+the planks to make the boats watertight for sailing. When the boats were
+put in the water later on, he added, the planks would swell and form
+waterproof joints where the planks met.
+
+On both sides, lines of railroad tracks led from the boat yard and the
+big sheds straight down to the water’s edge and on into the water. Boats
+on wheeled flatcars stood on the rails here and there, ready to be eased
+down the tracks into the water for launching. Jerry explained how, when
+the flatcars with their cradles had gone down the slope and were under
+water, the boats simply floated away from them. Then the launching
+device would be hauled back up the tracks for use on another boat.
+
+Sandy looked about him in bewilderment at the variety of boats in the
+yard. There were small boats with one mast, larger ones with two, cabin
+cruisers with no masts at all, and one sleek, beautiful, black-hulled
+boat with three tall masts. He was just beginning to think that he had
+found some relationship between the size of the boat and the number of
+masts when he spotted what appeared to be one of the largest hulls in
+the boat yard, with one immense mast. Next to it was a far smaller boat
+with two. Sandy thought to himself that there didn’t appear to be any
+simple rules to the business of boat designing. All in all the bustling
+Cliffport Boat Yard was a thoroughly confusing sight for Sandy, and a
+pretty exciting one, too.
+
+As a matter of fact, the entire last two days had been pretty confusing
+and exciting, Sandy reflected. Just two days ago, he had started on his
+spring vacation from Valley View High School with not a thing to do but
+loaf around home. Now, suddenly, he was the owner of a sailboat he had
+never seen, and he was preparing to take a two-hundred-mile cruise down
+the coast! A two-hundred-mile cruise—and he had never even been on board
+a sailboat!
+
+Looking at the maze of masts and rigging around him, Sandy sensed for
+the first time some of the complications of handling a boat. Laying a
+hand on his friend’s shoulder, he said, “Boy, Jerry, I sure hope you can
+sail this boat alone! If what I see around me is a sample, I’m afraid
+I’m going to be too confused to do more than just watch you and maybe
+ask a few simple-minded questions!”
+
+“Don’t worry about it,” Jerry said with a grin. “It’s not anywhere near
+as complicated as it looks at first sight. I learned to handle a boat
+fairly well in just a few summers at the shore, plus some instruction in
+the Sea Scouts, and I didn’t even have my own boat so that I could sail
+regularly. One season of working your own boat will probably turn you
+into a first-rate skipper!”
+
+Then Jerry frowned for a minute and ran his hand over his hair.
+“Speaking of being a skipper,” he began awkwardly, “you realize, I
+guess, that I’ll have to act as skipper of this boat at first? I mean, I
+know it’s your boat and all, but....”
+
+Sandy laughed. “You go right ahead and take charge! I’ll be more than
+happy to take orders from you. After all, somebody on board has to be in
+charge, and it’s a good idea to have it be someone who knows what he’s
+in charge of!”
+
+“Fine,” Jerry said, looking relieved. “If you just keep up that kind of
+attitude, you’ll be the best kind of a crew member that any skipper
+could ask for!”
+
+Sandy’s Uncle Russ had been waiting by his car while the boys had been
+talking and taking in the sights, sounds and smells of the Cliffport
+Boat Yard. Now he moved over to join them. “The trunk of the car is
+open,” he said, “and your sea bags are in there. And that’s as much as I
+intend to do about it. I don’t know much about sailors, but if they’re
+anything at all like soldiers, they carry their own packs! Now let’s get
+going!”
+
+The boys grinned sheepishly and ran to the back of the car to gather
+their equipment, and Russell Steele relaxed and dropped his mock
+military manner. An ex-general of the United States Army, he often
+kidded Sandy and his friends by pretending that they were soldiers in
+his command. This time, he reflected, it was very nearly true. In the
+same way that a general must feel a responsibility toward the men he
+sends out on a mission, Russell Steele felt responsible for Sandy and
+Jerry as they were preparing to set out on this trip.
+
+After all, he reminded himself, the trip had been his idea, and the
+sailboat had been his present to Sandy. He had been using the boat
+during the last few months while doing some research on special
+underwater equipment for the government, and now he no longer had any
+need for it. As Vice President of World Dynamics Corporation, Russell
+Steele was in charge of the New Projects Division. World Dynamics was a
+sprawling concern with almost unlimited interests, often in the most
+secret kinds of affairs, and his work with it often called him to
+different parts of the world. He had found his stay in Cliffport a
+pleasant change from some of the remote and often primitive places he
+had been forced to settle in in the past. Now, however, he was off
+again, to one more secret destination. He wouldn’t be in a position to
+use a sailboat again for a long time to come.
+
+Sandy’s Uncle Russ had been brought up on the seacoast of California.
+While his brother, Sandy’s father, had become fascinated with the rocks
+and geological formations of the nearby mountains and deserts, he had
+gone in the other direction to the shores of the Pacific. During nearly
+all of his boyhood he had puttered around boats and boat yards.
+
+Although Russell Steele had spent most of his adult life in the Army
+(and maybe because of it) he had always had a soft spot in his heart for
+the sport of sailing. He had regretted that Sandy, his only nephew,
+lived inland in Valley View where he was unable to share in this
+enthusiasm. But Valley View was only a couple of hours from the seacoast
+and now that Sandy was old enough to drive a car, it would be possible
+for him to own and enjoy a sailboat.
+
+Uncle Russ thought of all this, and then he wondered whether it had been
+a good idea to suggest that the boys bring the sloop all the way down
+from Cliffport on their very first sail. Still, he mused, Jerry seemed
+like a responsible lad, and he had said that he knew how to handle a
+boat well enough to make such a trip. And Sandy learned fast and was
+good with his hands. Well, the General thought to himself, we’ll just
+have to give them their heads and let them try it to see how they make
+out....
+
+At that moment in his reflections, the boys joined him with their
+luggage, and all three started through the boat yard to the waterfront.
+As they picked their way through the clutter of boats, scrap lumber,
+railroad tracks and equipment, they passed close by the side of a boat
+standing on the ways about to be launched. Sandy ran his hand over the
+gleaming paintwork of the hull, and found that it was as smooth as
+glass. Jerry explained that great care was given to getting a smooth
+paint job, because the greatest force working against a boat to slow it
+down is the friction created by the water passing over the hull. Good
+racing boats, he told Sandy, are hauled out of the water to be cleaned
+and painted several times in a season.
+
+Their walk had by now led them down to the water’s edge, where they
+walked along a weathered wharf. A light, early-morning haze made the
+colors of the sailboats that floated in the bay seem soft and pale. The
+water and the sky appeared to be one single surface, with no break or
+horizon line to indicate where one stopped and the other began. The
+boat-yard flag on its mast atop the main shed fluttered lazily in a mild
+breeze, and a gentle ground swell made soft, lapping sounds under the
+wharf.
+
+Strolling along, they came to a long, steeply sloping gangway that
+descended to a floating dock, to which were tied several small sailboats
+that rocked quietly on the smooth swell of Cliffport Bay.
+
+Russell Steele took his pipe out of his mouth and pointed with it. “See
+there?” he said. “The third sloop—the one with the white hull and the
+green decks and the varnished mast—that’s your new sailboat, Sandy, and
+I hope you enjoy it as much as I have.”
+
+Before he had finished his sentence, Sandy and Jerry were down the steep
+gangway, racing along the floating dock to where the trim, white sloop
+was tied. Russ Steele smiled, replaced his pipe in his mouth, and
+followed at a pace almost as fast as the boys’.
+
+“It’s a beauty!” Sandy panted, pushing his hair back from his eyes.
+“What slick lines! And look at how roomy the cabin is! And look at the
+height of the mast! And all that rigging!”
+
+His grin faded, and a look of bewilderment spread across his face. “Boy,
+I can sure say that again! Just look at all that rigging! How am I
+supposed to know what to do with what and when to do it, Jerry?”
+
+Jerry laughed, and jumped lightly into the small cockpit. “Come on
+board, skipper, and we’ll start your first sailing lesson by showing you
+around and telling you the names of things. It’s not half as complicated
+as it looks. In fact, this sloop rig is just about the simplest there
+is. As soon as you learn what to call things, you’ll have the hardest
+part of the lesson over with.”
+
+Sandy followed Jerry into the cockpit, then paused to turn and face his
+uncle, who was still standing on the dock. “How about you, Uncle Russ?”
+he asked. “Will you stick around for a little while and take the first
+sail with us?”
+
+“Thanks for asking, Sandy,” Russell Steele answered, “but much as I’d
+like to come along with you, I can’t manage it. I have to be back in my
+office this afternoon for an important conference. In fact, I’ll just
+about make it if I get started now. But before I get under way, and
+before you get carried away with the fine art of sailing, there are a
+few things that you’ll need to know.”
+
+He talked rapidly and uninterruptedly for about five minutes and, when
+he had finished, Sandy appreciated for the first time how thoroughly
+well-organized his Uncle Russ was. His preparations for the boys’ trip
+had been complete in every last detail. Russell Steele’s practiced
+military mind had reviewed the situation and had missed nothing that
+might be needed.
+
+The sailboat had been fully provisioned for more than a week of sailing,
+and had been equipped for every possible emergency as well as for a
+routine and pleasant cruise. The small cabin contained an alcohol
+cookstove and a good supply of canned food. Every locker and storage
+place was full, and everything put on board had been chosen with care
+and an eye for both comfort and necessity.
+
+A complete tool chest was stowed in its cubby with several boxes of
+spare hardware, ship fittings, nuts and bolts, wire and odd tackle. A
+drawer under one of the bunks contained a whole assortment of fishing
+equipment. Another carried an odd mixture of things that the boys might
+want, even including clothespins for drying garments, and a sewing kit.
+A specially made bag contained another sewing kit, this one for sails
+and canvas repair.
+
+In a narrow, hanging locker in the forward part of the cabin were two
+complete foul-weather suits consisting of waterproof pants and jackets
+with hoods. Below them were two pairs of sea boots.
+
+Opposite this was the small enclosed “head,” sailor’s word for bathroom.
+No bigger than a telephone booth, it still managed to contain a toilet
+and a sink, plus a cabinet for medicines and first-aid supplies and
+another for towels, soap, toothbrushes and the like.
+
+“The only things that you won’t find on board yet,” Russell Steele
+concluded, “are your sleeping bags and your air mattresses. I’ve ordered
+special ones that the local store didn’t have in stock, and they’re not
+due to arrive until tomorrow. For tonight, you’ll have to plan on
+sleeping ashore, but I’ve taken care of that for you, too. I’ve got a
+room reserved for you at the Cliffport Hotel. After tomorrow, you can
+sleep on board, like sailors.”
+
+He scowled at his pipe for several seconds, as if he hoped to see in it
+some hint of anything that he might have forgotten to take care of, and
+he mentally checked each item again. Sails okay? Charts and navigating
+instruments in place? Food? Tools? Spare lines? Life jackets? Oars for
+the dinghy? Cleaning equipment? Sea anchor? Everything checked out. At
+last, satisfied that all was in good order, he smiled and clamped the
+pipe in his teeth again.
+
+“I think,” he said, “the only thing I’ve forgotten is the seagoing way
+to say goodbye!”
+
+He settled for “Ahoy!” and “Smooth sailing!” and, brushing off Sandy’s
+thanks, walked briskly up the gangway without turning back.
+
+The boys watched him as he turned the corner of the main shed and walked
+out of sight, then they gave all their attention to a close survey of
+their new floating home.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER THREE
+                            Shakedown Cruise
+
+
+“Well, Jerry, what do you think of it?” Sandy asked his friend, as he
+cast a proud eye along the sleekly shaped length of the little sloop.
+
+“Not ‘it,’” Jerry said. “You should say ‘her.’ You always call boats
+‘she’ or ‘her,’ though I’ve never met a sailor who could tell you why.”
+
+Jerry looked critically down the twenty-four-foot length of the sloop.
+“She looks really seaworthy,” he said, “and she looks pretty fast, too.
+Of course, this is not a racing boat, you know. They use this kind
+mostly for day sailing and for short cruises. Even so, she looks as if
+she’ll go. Of course, we can’t really tell until we’ve tried her, and I
+don’t think we’ll be ready to try anything fast for a little while yet.”
+
+Noticing the flicker of disappointment that crossed Sandy’s face, Jerry
+added, “I’d rather have a boat like this than any racing machine ever
+built. And I’m not saying that just to make you feel better about not
+having a racer. There’s not much difference in actual speed between a
+really fast boat and an ordinary good boat of the same size. But there
+sure is a lot of difference in comfort. And I like my comfort when I go
+for a cruise.”
+
+“Why should a racing boat be uncomfortable?” Sandy asked.
+
+“It’s not uncomfortable for racing, or for day sailing,” Jerry answered,
+“but a racing boat of this size wouldn’t be fitted out for cruising at
+all. You see, to get the most speed out of a boat, designers make sure
+that the hull is kept as light as possible and as streamlined as
+possible, too. A light hull will ride with less of its surface in the
+water, and that cuts down on the amount of friction. You remember what I
+told you about friction before?”
+
+Sandy nodded, and Jerry went on. “Streamlining the hull shape helps it
+to cut through the water without making a lot of waves at the bow to
+hold it back. Not only that, but to make the boat really as fast as
+possible, most designers want to streamline the decks, too. That way,
+even the air resistance is lowered. Well, when you streamline the hull,
+you make less cabin space below. Then when you streamline the decks, you
+have to lower the cabin roof so that it’s level with the decks. You can
+see that in a small boat like this, you wind up with no cabin at all.”
+
+“I see,” Sandy said. “But how does the lightness of the hull affect
+comfort? I’m not so sure I understand that.”
+
+“When you have a light hull,” Jerry replied, “it’s a good idea to keep
+it light. If you overload it, you lose the advantage you built into it
+in the first place. That means that you can’t carry all the stuff we
+have on board to make for comfortable, safe cruising. Our bunks, the
+galley, the head, the spare anchor, all the tools and supplies—it adds
+up to a lot of weight. If you want a really fast boat, you have to leave
+all that stuff behind.”
+
+“Then if this were a racing boat,” Sandy said, “we wouldn’t have
+anything more than a small cockpit and a lot of deck, with a little
+storage space! No wonder you said you’d rather have a boat like this!
+But there’s one thing I’d still like to know. You said that there wasn’t
+much difference in real speed between a racing boat and an ordinary good
+boat. How much is ‘not much’?”
+
+Jerry thought for a minute. “Well—” he said, at length—“I’d have to know
+a lot more about boat design than I know to give you an accurate answer,
+but I can give you a rough idea. This is a twenty-four-foot boat. If it
+were a racing hull, you might get eight and a half or maybe even nine
+knots out of it under ideal conditions. For practical purposes, you can
+figure eight or less. A knot, by the way, is a nautical mile, and it’s a
+little more than a regular mile. When you say eight knots, you mean
+eight nautical miles an hour.”
+
+“But that’s not fast!” Sandy objected. “You said that’s what a fast
+racing boat would do!”
+
+Jerry smiled. “Believe me, Sandy,” he said, “when your boat is heeling
+way over and your decks are awash and your sails are straining full of
+wind, it seems like an awful lot of speed! You’ll see when we get out
+today. Besides, speed is all relative. A really dangerous speed on a
+bike would seem like a slow crawl in a car.”
+
+“I guess you’re right,” Sandy answered. “But you didn’t tell me how fast
+this boat will go, compared to a racer.”
+
+“I think we’ll get five or six knots out of her,” Jerry replied
+thoughtfully. “That’s not fast, but it’s only a couple of knots slower
+than the fastest. You see now what I mean?”
+
+Sandy nodded, then said, “I’m with you, Jerry. Now that I know a little
+bit about it, I sure think you’re right. I’d much rather have a boat we
+can sleep on and take on trips up and down the coast than a racer that
+doesn’t even go so fast! Besides, I’d be pretty foolish to think about
+any other kind of boat at all, wouldn’t I? I don’t even have the least
+idea of how to sail this one yet! Come on, Jerry, start showing me!”
+
+As Jerry carefully explained the different parts of the rigging, the
+complicated-looking series of wires and ropes around the mast began to
+look a whole lot simpler to Sandy. The first thing he learned was that
+not much of the rigging moved or was used for actual sailing of the
+boat. The parts that didn’t move were called “standing rigging,” and if
+you eliminated them from your thoughts, it made the “running rigging”
+comparatively easy to understand.
+
+“You have to learn about the rigging first,” Jerry said. “The idea is
+simple enough. The standing rigging is used to support the mast and keep
+it from bending to either side or to the front or back when the sails
+start to put pressure on it. The standing rigging is every line or cable
+you see that comes from the top of the mast or near it down to the outer
+edge of the deck or to the bow or stern.”
+
+Sandy looked about the little sloop, and noticed that this seemed to
+take care of more than half of what he saw.
+
+“The running rigging,” Jerry went on, “is used to raise and lower the
+sails and to control their position to catch the wind when you’re
+sailing. The lines that are used to raise and lower the sails on the
+mast are called halyards. They work just like the ropes on a flagpole.
+The other kind of running rigging—the lines used to control the way the
+sails set—are called sheets. You’d think that a sheet was a sail,
+wouldn’t you? It isn’t, though. It’s the line that controls a sail.”
+
+“I think I understand so far,” Sandy said, “but don’t you think it would
+be easier for me to learn if we went out for a sail and I could see
+everything working?”
+
+“Right,” Jerry said. “That’s just what I was going to say next. Telling
+you this way makes me feel too much like a schoolteacher!”
+
+Jerry decided that it would not be a good idea to try to sail away from
+the dock, because the part of the harbor they were in was so crowded.
+There would be little room to maneuver with only the light morning winds
+to help them. The best thing to do, he concluded, was to move the boat
+to a less crowded part of the harbor. At the same time, he would teach
+Sandy the way to get away from a mooring. In order to do all this, Jerry
+explained, they would row out in the dinghy, towing the sloop behind
+them. Once out in open water, they would tie the dinghy behind them and
+pull it along as they sailed.
+
+Together they unlashed the dinghy, which was resting on chocks on the
+cabin roof. Light and easy to handle, the dinghy was no trouble at all
+to launch, and in a minute it was floating alongside, looking like a
+cross between a canoe and a light-weight bathtub.
+
+Getting into the dinghy carefully, so as not to upset its delicate
+balance, they untied the sloop from the dock. Then they fastened the bow
+line of the sloop to a ring on the stern of the dinghy, got out the
+stubby oars and started to row.
+
+At first, it took some strong pulling at the oars to start the sailboat
+moving away from the dock, and Sandy feared that they would tip over the
+frail cockleshell of the dinghy. But once the sloop started to move,
+Sandy found that it took surprisingly little effort to tow it along. It
+glided easily behind them, its tall mast swaying overhead, as they rowed
+slowly out into the waters of Cliffport Bay.
+
+“We’ll find an empty mooring, and tie up for a few minutes,” Jerry said.
+“I don’t think that anyone will mind. I want to show you the method
+we’ll use most of the time for getting under way.” He pointed to the
+anchorage area, or “holding ground,” as it was called, and Sandy noticed
+several blocks of painted wood floating about. They had numbers, and
+some had small flags on them. “Those are moorings,” Jerry explained.
+“They’re just permanent anchors, with floats to mark the spot and to
+hold up the end of the mooring line. Every boat owner has his own
+mooring to come in to. The people who own these empty moorings are
+probably out sailing for the day, and we won’t interfere if we use one
+for a while.”
+
+Easing back on the oars, they let the sloop lose momentum and came to a
+natural stop near one of the moorings. They transferred the bow line
+from the dinghy to the mooring and made the sloop fast in its temporary
+berth. Then they climbed back on board and tied the dinghy behind them.
+Jerry explained that a long enough scope of line should be left for the
+dinghy so as to keep it from riding up and overtaking the sloop, as
+accidents of this sort have been known to damage the bow of a fragile
+dinghy.
+
+This done, Jerry busied himself by unlashing the boom and the rudder to
+get them ready to use, while Sandy went below for the sail bags. These
+were neatly stacked in a forward locker, each one marked with the name
+of the type of sail it contained. He selected the ones marked “main” and
+“jib,” as Jerry had asked him to, and brought them out into the cockpit.
+
+Making the mainsail ready to hoist, Sandy quickly got the knack of
+threading the sail slides onto the tracks on the mast and the boom. He
+worked at this while Jerry made the necessary adjustments to the
+halyards and fastened them to the heads of the sails. When this job was
+done, Sandy slid the foot of the sail aft along the boom, and Jerry made
+it fast with a block-and-tackle arrangement which was called the “clew
+outhaul.”
+
+“Now,” Jerry said, when they had finished, “it’s time to hoist the
+mainsail!”
+
+“What about the mooring?” Sandy asked. “Don’t you want me to untie the
+boat from it first?”
+
+“Not yet,” Jerry answered. “We won’t do that until we’re ready to go.”
+
+“But won’t we start going as soon as we pull up the mainsail?” said
+Sandy, puzzled.
+
+“No,” Jerry said. “Nothing will happen when we hoist the sail. It’s like
+raising a flag. The flag doesn’t fill with wind and pull at the flagpole
+like a sail, does it? It just points into the wind and flutters. That’s
+just what the mainsail will do. You see, the boat is already pointing
+into the wind, because the wind has swung us around on the mooring. You
+look around and you’ll see that all the boats out here are heading in
+the exact same direction, toward the wind. When we hoist the sail, it’ll
+act just like a flag, and flap around until we’re ready to use it. Then
+we’ll make it do what we want it to by using the jib and controlling its
+position with the sheets. Look.”
+
+Jerry hauled on the main halyard, and the sail slid up its tracks on the
+mast, squeaking and grating. As it reached the masthead, it fluttered
+and bellied loosely in the wind, doing nothing to make the boat move in
+any direction. Motioning to Sandy to take his place tugging at the
+halyard, Jerry jumped down into the cockpit.
+
+The halyard ran from the pointed head of the sail up through a pulley at
+the top of the mast, then down to where Sandy was hauling on it. Below
+his hands, it passed through another pulley near Sandy’s feet, then back
+along the cabin roof. Jerry, from his position in the cockpit, grabbed
+the end of the halyard and hauled tight, taking the strain from Sandy.
+Then he tied it down to a wing-shaped cleat on the cabin roof near the
+cockpit.
+
+This was done with a few expert flips of the wrist. The mainsail was up,
+and tightly secured.
+
+“There,” Jerry said. “Now we’re almost ready. We won’t move at all until
+we get the jib up, and even then we won’t move unless we want to. When
+we want to, we’ll untie from the mooring and get away as neat as you
+please.”
+
+They then took the jib out of its sail bag and made ready to hoist it.
+Instead of securing to the mast with slides on a track the way the
+mainsail had, the jib had a series of snaps stitched to its forward
+edge. These were snapped around the steel wire forestay, a part of the
+standing rigging that ran from the bow of the boat to a position high up
+on the mast. The jib halyard was fastened to the head of the jib, the
+snaps were put in place, and a few seconds of work saw the jib hanging
+in place, flapping before the mast. Then Jerry asked Sandy to pick up
+the mooring that they had tied to, and to walk aft with it.
+
+“When you walk aft with the mooring,” Jerry explained, “you actually put
+some forward motion on the boat. Then, when you get aft and I tell you
+to throw the mooring over, you put the bow a little off the wind by
+doing it.”
+
+Sandy untied the bow line from the mooring, and walked to the stern of
+the boat, holding the mooring float as he had been told. Then, when
+Jerry said “Now!” he threw the mooring over with a splash.
+
+“With the jib flying and the boat free from the mooring and no longer
+pointing directly into the wind,” Jerry said, “the wind will catch the
+jib and blow our bow even further off. At the same time, I’ll steer to
+the side instead of straight ahead. As soon as our bow is pointing
+enough away from the wind, the breeze will strike our sails from one
+side, and they’ll start to fill. When the sails have caught the wind
+right, I’ll ease off on the rudder, and we’ll be moving ahead.”
+
+By this time, the morning haze had “burned off” and the light breeze had
+freshened into a crisp, steady wind. As the head of the little sloop
+“fell away” from the direction from which the wind was coming, the sails
+swelled, the boat leaned slightly to one side, and a ripple of waves
+splashed alongside the hull. Sandy looked back and saw that the bow of
+the dinghy, trailing behind them, was beginning to cut a small white
+wave through the water.
+
+“We’re under way!” Jerry cried. “Come on over here, skipper! You take
+the tiller and learn how to steer your boat while I handle the sails and
+show you what to do!”
+
+Sandy slid over on the stern seat to take Jerry’s place, and held the
+tiller in the position he had been shown, while Jerry explained how to
+trim the sails and how to go where you wanted to go instead of where the
+wind wanted to take you.
+
+“I’ll take care of the sail trimming,” Jerry said. “All you have to do
+is keep the boat heading on the course she’s sailing now. The wind is
+pretty much at our backs and off to the starboard side. You have to keep
+it that way, and especially keep the stern from swinging around to face
+the wind directly. It’s not hard to do. Just pick a landmark and steer
+toward it.”
+
+He looked ahead to where a point of land jutted out some miles off the
+mainland. A lighthouse tower made an exclamation mark against the sky.
+
+“Just steer a little to the right of that,” he said, “and we can’t go
+wrong.”
+
+“What if the wind shifts?” Sandy asked. “How can we tell?”
+
+Jerry pointed to the masthead, where a small triangular metal flag
+swung. “Just keep an eye on that,” he said. “It’s called a hawk, and
+it’s a sailor’s weathervane.”
+
+“With one eye on the lighthouse and one eye on the masthead,” Sandy
+laughed, “I’m going to look awfully silly!”
+
+He leaned back in the stern seat with the tiller tucked under his arm.
+The little sloop headed steadily for the lighthouse, steering easily.
+Every few seconds, Sandy glanced at the hawk to check the wind. He
+grinned and relaxed. He was steering his own boat! The sail towered tall
+and white against the blue sky above him and the water gurgled alongside
+and in the wake behind where the dinghy bobbed along like a faithful
+puppy.
+
+“This is the life!” he sighed.
+
+Jerry pointed out a handsome, white-hulled, two-masted boat approaching
+them. “Isn’t that a beauty?” he said. “It’s a ketch. On a ketch, the
+mainmast is taller than the mizzen. That’s how you tell the difference.”
+
+“How do you tell the difference between the mainmast and the mizzen?”
+Sandy asked. “You’re going to have to start with the simplest stuff with
+me.”
+
+“The mainmast is always the one in front, and the mizzen is always the
+one aft,” Jerry explained. “A ketch has a taller main; a schooner has a
+taller mizzen; a yawl is the same as a ketch, except that the mizzen is
+set aft of the tiller. Got it?”
+
+Sandy shook his head and wondered if he would ever get all of this
+straight in his head. It was enough trying to learn the names of things
+on his own boat without worrying about the names of everything on other
+boats in the bay.
+
+As the ketch sailed by, the man at her tiller waved a friendly greeting.
+The boys waved back and Sandy watched the big ketch go smoothly past,
+wondering how much harder it might be to sail a two-masted boat of that
+size than it was to sail a relatively small sloop such as his own.
+Certainly it could not be as simple as the sloop, he thought. Why this
+little sailboat was a whole lot easier than it had seemed to be at
+first. As a matter of fact....
+
+“Duck your head!” Jerry yelled.
+
+Not even stopping to think, Sandy dropped his head just in time to avoid
+being hit by the boom, which whizzed past barely a few inches above him!
+With a sharp crack of ropes and canvas, the sail filled with wind on the
+opposite side of the boat from where it had been a moment before, and
+the sloop heeled violently in the same direction. Jerry grabbed at the
+tiller, hauled in rapidly on the mainsheet, and set a new course. Then,
+calming down, he explained to Sandy what had happened.
+
+“We jibed,” he said. “That means that you let the wind get directly
+behind us and then on the wrong side of us. The mainsail got the wind on
+the back of it, and the wind took it around to the other side of the
+boat. Because the sheets were let out all the way, there was nothing to
+restrain the sail from moving, and by the time it got over, it was going
+at a pretty fast clip. You saw the results!”
+
+Jerry adjusted the mainsail to a better position relative to the wind,
+trimming it carefully to keep it from bagging, then he went on to
+explain. “A jibe can only happen when you’ve got the wind at your back.
+That’s called sailing downwind, or sailing before the wind, or running
+free. It’s the most dangerous point of sail, because of the chance of
+jibing. When the wind is strong, an uncontrolled jibe like the one we
+just took can split your sails, or ruin your rigging, or even snap your
+boom or your mast. Not to mention giving you a real bad headache if
+you’re in the way of that boom!”
+
+“I can just imagine,” Sandy said, thinking of the force with which the
+boom had whizzed by. Then he added, “You said something about an
+‘uncontrolled jibe,’ I think. Does that mean that there’s some way to
+control it?”
+
+“I should have said an accidental jibe instead of an uncontrolled one,”
+Jerry said. “A deliberate or planned jibe is always controlled, and it’s
+a perfectly safe and easy maneuver. All you have to do is to haul in on
+the sheet, so that the boom won’t have any room for free swinging. Then
+you change your course to the new tack, let out the sail, and you’re off
+with no trouble.”
+
+Sandy grinned. “I’m afraid that description went over my head as fast as
+the boom did—only a whole lot higher up!”
+
+“Things always sound complicated when you describe them,” Jerry said,
+“but we’ll do a couple later, and you’ll see how it works.”
+
+“Fine,” Sandy agreed. “But until we do, how can I keep from doing any
+more of the accidental variety?”
+
+“The only way to avoid jibing,” Jerry replied, “is never to let the wind
+blow from the same side that the sail is set on. This means that if you
+feel the wind shift over that way, you have to alter your course quickly
+to compensate for it. If you don’t want to alter your course, then you
+have to do a deliberate jibe and alter the direction of the sail. All it
+means is that you have to keep alert at the tiller, and keep an eye on
+the hawk, the way I told you, so that you always know which direction
+the wind is blowing from.”
+
+“I guess I was getting too much confidence a lot too soon,” Sandy
+admitted, shamefaced. “There’s obviously a lot more to this sailing
+business than I was beginning to think. Anyway, a jibe is one thing I
+won’t let happen again. I’ll stop looking at other boats for a while,
+and pay more attention to this one! There’s more than enough to look at
+here, I guess.”
+
+Once more, Sandy cautiously took the tiller from Jerry. Then he grinned
+ruefully and said, “Just do me one favor, will you, Jerry?”
+
+“Sure. What?”
+
+“Just don’t call me ‘skipper’ any more. Not for a while, at least!”
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER FOUR
+                          The Man with the Gun
+
+
+“Just keep her sailing on this downwind course,” Jerry said. “Head for
+that lighthouse the way you were before, and keep an occasional eye on
+the hawk. As long as the wind isn’t dead astern, we shouldn’t have any
+more jibing troubles. As soon as we get out into open water, we’ll find
+an easier point of sail. We can’t do that until we’re clear of the
+channel, though. When we are, we’ll reach for a while, and then I’ll
+show you how to beat.”
+
+“What’s reaching?” Sandy asked. “And what’s beating? And how do you know
+when we’re out of the channel into open water? And how do you even know
+for sure that we’re in the channel now? And how....”
+
+“Whoa! Wait a minute! Let’s take one question at a time. A reach is when
+you’re sailing with the wind coming more from the side than from in
+front or from behind the boat. Beating is when the wind is more in front
+than on the side, and you have to sail into it. Beating is more like
+work than fun, but a reach is the fastest and easiest kind of a course
+to sail. That’s why I want to reach as soon as we’re out in open water
+where we can pick our direction without having to worry about channel
+markers.”
+
+“How come reaching is the fastest kind of course to sail?” Sandy asked.
+“I would have guessed that sailing downwind with the wind pushing the
+boat ahead of it would be the fastest.”
+
+“It sure seems as if it ought to work that way,” Jerry said with a grin.
+“But you’ll find that sailboat logic isn’t always so simple or easy.
+When you’re running free in front of the wind, you can only go as fast
+as the wind is blowing. When you’re reaching, you can actually sail a
+lot faster than the wind.”
+
+“I’m afraid that I don’t understand that,” Sandy said. “How does it
+work?”
+
+Jerry paused and thought for a minute. “You remember what Quiz said
+about the sailboat working like an airplane? Well, he made it sound
+pretty tough to understand, what with all his formulas and proportions,
+but actually he was right. A sail is a lot like an airplane wing, except
+that it’s standing up on end instead of sticking out to one side. Well,
+you know that the propellers on a plane make wind, and that the plane
+flies straight into that wind. You see, the wind that comes across the
+wing makes a vacuum on top of the wing surface, and the plane is drawn
+up into the vacuum. You get a lot more lift that way than if the
+propellers were under the wing and blowing straight up on the bottom of
+it.”
+
+“I see that,” Sandy said. “And a propeller blowing under a wing would be
+pretty much the same as a wind blowing at the back of a sail. Right?”
+
+“Right!” Jerry said, looking pleased with his teaching ability. “Now you
+have the idea. When you have a sail, like a wing standing up, the air
+that passes over the sail makes a vacuum in front and pulls the boat
+forward into it. Actually, the vacuum pulls us forward and to one side,
+the same as the wind from the propeller makes the plane go forward and
+up. We use the rudder and the keel to keep us going more straight than
+sideways.”
+
+Sandy shook his head as if to clear away cobwebs. “I think that I
+understand now, but it’s still a little hazy in my mind. Maybe I’ll do
+better if you don’t tell me about the theory, and I just see the way it
+works.”
+
+“Could be,” Jerry said. “There are lots of old-time fishermen and other
+fine sailors who have absolutely no idea of how their boats work, and
+who wouldn’t know a law of physics or a principle of aerodynamics if it
+sat on their mastheads and yelled at them like a sea gull! They just do
+what comes naturally, and they know the way to handle a boat without
+worrying about what makes it run.”
+
+Still heading on their downwind course, they passed several small
+islands and rocks, some marked with lights and towers, some with bells
+or floating buoys. They seemed to slide by gracefully as the little
+sloop left the mainland farther behind in its wake.
+
+“Before we get out of the channel,” Jerry said, “I want to show you some
+of the channel markers and tell you about how to read them. They’re the
+road signs of the harbors, and if you know what they mean and what to do
+about them, you’ll never get in any trouble when it comes to finding
+your way in and out of a port.”
+
+He pointed to a nearby marker that was shaped like a pointed rocket nose
+cone floating in the water. It was painted a bright red, and on its side
+in white was painted a large number 4.
+
+“That’s called a nun buoy,” Jerry told Sandy. “Now look over there. Do
+you see that black buoy shaped just like an oversized tin can? That’s
+called a can buoy. The cans and the nuns mark the limits of the channel,
+and they tell you to steer between them. The rule is, when you’re
+leaving a harbor, to keep the red nun buoys on your port side. That’s
+the left side. When you’re entering a harbor, keep the red nun buoys on
+your starboard side. The best way to remember it is by the three R’s of
+offshore navigating: ‘Red Right Returning.’”
+
+Sandy nodded. “I understand that all right,” he said. “But what are the
+numbers for?”
+
+“The numbers are to tell you how far from the harbor you are,” Jerry
+said. “Red nun buoys are always even-numbered, and black cans are always
+odd-numbered. They run in regular sequence, and they start from the
+farthest buoy out from the shore. For example, we just sailed past red
+nun buoy number 4. That means that the next can we see will be marked
+number 3, and it will be followed by a number 2 nun and a number 1 can.
+After we pass the number 1 can, we’ll be completely out of the channel,
+and we’ll have open water to sail in.”
+
+“Do they have the same kind of markers everywhere,” Sandy asked, “or do
+you have to learn them specially for each port that you sail in?”
+
+“You’ll find the same marks in almost every place in the world,” Jerry
+said. “But you won’t have to worry about the world for a long while. The
+important thing is that the marking and buoyage system is the same exact
+standard for every port in the United States and Canada.”
+
+“What’s that striped can I see floating over there?” Sandy asked,
+pointing.
+
+Jerry looked at the buoy. “That’s a special marker,” he answered. “All
+of the striped buoys have some special meaning, and it’s usually marked
+on the charts. They’re mostly used to mark a junction of two channels,
+or a middle ground, or an obstruction of some kind. You can sail to
+either side of them, but you shouldn’t go too close. At least that’s the
+rule for the horizontally striped ones. The markers with vertical
+stripes show the middle of the channel, and you’re supposed to pass them
+as close as you can, on either side.”
+
+Another few minutes of sailing brought them past the last red buoy, and
+they were clear of the marked channel. From here on they were free to
+sail as they wanted, in any direction they chose to try.
+
+For the next hour they practiced reaching. With the wind blowing
+steadily from the starboard side, the trim sloop leaned far to the port
+until the waves were creaming almost up to the level of the deck. Jerry
+explained that this leaning position, called “heeling,” was the natural
+and proper way for a sailboat to sit in the water. The only way that a
+boat could sail level, he pointed out, was before the wind. With the
+boat heeling sharply and the sails and the rigging pulled tight in the
+brisk breeze, Sandy really began to feel the sense of speed on the
+water, and understood what Jerry had told him about speed being
+relative.
+
+After they had practiced on a few long reaches, Jerry showed Sandy how
+to beat or point, which is the art of sailing more or less straight into
+the wind.
+
+“Of course you can’t ever sail straight into the wind,” Jerry said. “The
+best you can do is come close. If you head right into it, the sails will
+just flap around the way that they did when we were pointing into the
+wind at the mooring. You’ve got to sail a little to one side.”
+
+“Suppose you don’t want to go to one side?” Sandy asked. “If the wind is
+blowing straight from the place you want to get to, what do you do about
+it?”
+
+“You have to compromise,” Jerry replied. “You’ll never get there by
+aiming the boat in that direction. What you have to do is sail for a
+point to one side of it for a while, then come about and sail for a
+point on the other side of it for a while. It’s a kind of long zigzag
+course. You call it tacking. Each leg of the zigzag is called a tack.”
+
+Sailing into the wind, they tacked first on one side, then on the other.
+Each time they came about onto a new tack, the mainsail was shifted to
+the other side of the boat, and the boat heeled in the same direction as
+the sail. The jib came about by itself, just by loosening one sheet and
+taking up on the other one. Soon Sandy was used to the continual
+shifting and resetting of the sails, and to the boom passing back and
+forth overhead.
+
+Suddenly Sandy pointed and clapped Jerry on the shoulder with
+excitement. “Look!” he cried. “There’s a whole fleet of boats coming
+this way! They look just like ours! And they’re racing!”
+
+Jerry looked up in surprise. “They sure are racing! And they are just
+like this one! I guess I was wrong when I said they didn’t race this
+kind of boat. This must be a local class, built to specifications for
+local race rules. Boy, look at them go! I was wrong about not racing
+them, but I sure was right when I said that she looked fast!”
+
+The fleet of sloops swept past, heeling sharply to one side, with the
+crews perched on the high sides as live ballast, and the water foaming
+white along the low decks which were washed over completely every moment
+or so. The helmsmen on the nearest of the boats grinned at them and
+waved an invitation to come along and join the regatta, but neither
+Jerry nor Sandy felt quite up to sailing a race just yet.
+
+As they watched their white-sailed sisters fly down the bay, Sandy felt
+for the first time the excitement that could come from handling a boat
+really well. He turned to his own trim craft with renewed determination
+to learn everything that Jerry could teach him, and maybe, in due time,
+a whole lot more than that.
+
+The next few hours were spent in happily exploring Cliffport Bay and
+trying the sloop on a variety of tacks and courses to learn what she
+would do. Eventually, the sun standing high above the mast, they
+realized almost at the same time that it was definitely time for lunch.
+
+Jerry took the helm and the sheet while Sandy went below to see what the
+boat’s food locker could supply. In a few minutes, he poked his head out
+of the cabin hatch and shook it sadly at Jerry. “It looks as if Uncle
+Russ didn’t think of everything, after all. There’s plenty of food all
+right, but there’s not a thing on board to drink. The water jugs are
+here, but they’re bone-dry, and I’m not exactly up to eating peanut
+butter sandwiches without something to wash them down!”
+
+“Me either!” said Jerry, shuddering a little at the thought. “Of course,
+we could settle on some of the juice from the canned fruits I saw in
+there, but we haven’t taken on any ice for our ice chest, and that’s all
+going to be pretty warm. In any case, we ought to have some water on
+board. I think we’d better look for a likely place near shore where we
+can drop anchor. Then we can take the dinghy in to one of the beach
+houses and fill up our jugs.”
+
+“Good idea,” Sandy agreed. “And that way we can eat while we’re at
+anchor, and not have to worry about sailing and eating at the same
+time.”
+
+Several small islands not too far away had houses on them, and the boys
+decided to set a course for the nearest one. As they drew near, they saw
+a sunny white house sitting on the crest of a small rise about a hundred
+yards back from the water. Below the house, a well-protected and
+pleasant-looking cove offered a good place for an anchorage. A floating
+dock was secured to a high stone pier, from which a path could be seen
+leading up to the house. It looked like an almost perfect summer place,
+set in broad green lawns, with several old shade trees near the house
+and with a general atmosphere of well-being radiating from everything.
+
+They glided straight into the little cove, then suddenly put the rudder
+over hard and brought the sloop sharply up into the wind. The sails
+flapped loosely, and the boat lost some of its headway, then glided
+slowly to a stop.
+
+On the bow, Sandy stood ready with the anchor, waiting for Jerry to tell
+him when to lower it. As the boat began to move a little astern, backing
+in the headwind, Jerry told Sandy to let the anchor down slowly.
+
+“You never drop an anchor, or throw it over the side. After all, you
+want the anchor to tip over, and to drive a hook into the bottom. It
+won’t do that if it’s just dropped.”
+
+When Sandy felt the anchor touch the bottom, he pulled back gently on
+the anchor line until he felt the hook take hold. Then, leading the line
+through the fair lead at the bow, he tied it securely to a cleat on the
+deck.
+
+Loosening the halyards, they dropped first the jib and then the
+mainsail, rolled them neatly, and secured them with strips of sailcloth,
+called stops. Jerry pointed out that it was not necessary to remove the
+slides and snaps. That way, he explained, it would only be a matter of
+minutes to get under way when they wanted to. With the last stop tied
+and the boom and the rudder lashed to keep them from swinging, the sloop
+was all shipshape at anchor, rocking gently on the swell about fifty
+yards from the end of the floating dock.
+
+“Let’s row the dinghy in to the dock and see if we can find somebody on
+shore,” Jerry suggested. “Of course, with no boats in here, there might
+not be anyone on the island right now, but I think that I saw a well up
+by the house, and I’m sure that no one would mind if we helped ourselves
+to a little water.”
+
+But Jerry was wrong on both counts. There was somebody on the island,
+and he looked far from hospitable. In fact, the tall man who came
+striding down the path to the float where the boys already had the
+dinghy headed was carrying a rifle—and, what was more, he looked
+perfectly ready to use it at any minute!
+
+“Turn back!” he shouted, as he reached the edge of the stone pier. “Turn
+back, I tell you, or I’ll shoot that dinghy full of holes and sink it
+right out from under you!” He raised the rifle deliberately to his
+shoulder and sighted down its length at the boys.
+
+“Wait a minute!” Sandy shouted back. “You’re making a mistake! We just
+need to get some water to drink! We don’t mean any harm!”
+
+The man lowered his rifle, but looked no friendlier than before. “I
+don’t care what you want,” he called, “but you can just sail off and get
+it some other place! This is my island and my cove. They’re both private
+property, and you’re trespassing here! Now turn that dinghy around and
+get back to your sailboat and go!”
+
+This speech finished, he raised his rifle to the firing position once
+more and aimed it at the dinghy.
+
+“All right, mister!” Jerry yelled back at him. “We’ll get going! But
+when we get back to the mainland, you can bet that we’re going to report
+you to the Coast Guard for your failure to give assistance! I’m not sure
+what they can do about it, but they sure ought to know that there’s a
+character like you around here! Maybe they’ll mark it on the charts, so
+that sailors in trouble won’t waste their time coming in here for help!”
+
+As the boys started to turn the dinghy about, they heard a shout from
+the man on the pier. “Wait a minute!” he called. “There’s no need to get
+so upset. I’m sorry—but I guess I made a mistake after all. Row on in to
+the float and I’ll get you some water.”
+
+Not at all sure that they were doing the wisest thing, but not wanting
+to anger the strange rifleman by not doing what he had suggested, they
+decided to risk coming to shore. After all, Sandy reasoned, he hadn’t
+actually threatened to shoot _them_—just the dinghy—and he couldn’t do
+much more harm from close up than from where they were. Besides, both
+boys were curious about the man and his island. They rowed to the
+floating dock and made the dinghy fast to a cleat.
+
+“I’m sorry, boys,” the man with the rifle said pleasantly. “It’s just
+that I’ve been bothered in the past by kids landing here for picnics and
+swimming parties when I’m not here. They leave the beach a mess, and one
+gang actually broke into the house once, and stole some things. That’s
+why I don’t like kids coming around. I thought you were more of the
+same, but I figured you were all right when you said that you’d report
+to the Coast Guard. Those other kids stay as far away from the Coast
+Guard and the Harbor Police as they can.”
+
+He smiled apologetically, but as Sandy started to climb up from the
+dinghy to the floating dock, his expression hardened once more.
+
+“I said that I’d get you some water,” he said, “but I didn’t invite you
+to come ashore and help yourselves to it. You just stay right where you
+are in that dinghy, and hand me up your water jars. I’ll fill them up
+for you, and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
+
+More than a little puzzled, Jerry and Sandy handed up their two soft
+plastic gallon jugs. Their “host” took them under one arm, leaving the
+other hand free for his rifle which he carried with a finger lying
+alongside of the trigger. Without a word, the island’s owner walked off.
+
+“I wonder what’s the matter with him,” Jerry said.
+
+“I don’t know,” Sandy replied, “but whatever it is, we’d better do what
+he says, or something pretty bad might be the matter with us!”
+
+Halfway up the path to the house, the tall man stopped, turned back, and
+looked hard at the boys before continuing on up the hill.
+
+“Mind you do just what I said!” he shouted back over his shoulder. “You
+just stay in that dinghy, and don’t get any fancy ideas about exploring
+around. If I find you ashore, I’m still as ready as ever to use this
+gun!”
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER FIVE
+                              Storm Fears
+
+
+Unpredictable as the wind, the man was all smiles when he returned with
+the two jars filled with water. But he still had his gun.
+
+“I’m glad to see you stayed put in your dinghy,” he said. “I kept an eye
+on you from the hill.” He handed down the plastic jugs to Sandy and
+added, “Sorry I acted so gruff, but you know how it is. I live all alone
+out here, and even though the island is only a little over a half mile
+from the mainland it’s a pretty isolated spot. I have to be careful of
+strangers. But I should have seen right away that you boys are all
+right.”
+
+“Thanks,” said Sandy. “And thanks for filling our water jugs. We’re
+sorry we bothered you.”
+
+They cast the dinghy free, rowed quickly back to the sloop and, as fast
+as they could manage it, raised the anchor, hoisted the sails and
+skimmed out of the cove. As they rounded the rocky point that marked the
+entrance to the cove, they looked back to where the island’s lone
+inhabitant was standing on the dock, watching them out of sight, his
+rifle still held ready at his hip.
+
+“Boy, that’s a strange one!” Sandy said. “I wonder what he’s hiding on
+that island of his—a diamond mine?”
+
+“You never can tell,” Jerry replied, “but it’s probably nothing at all.
+I guess the kind of man who would want to live all alone on an island
+away from people is bound to be pretty crazy about getting all the
+privacy he can. And as far as I’m concerned, he can have it. From now
+on, if we need anything, let’s head for the mainland!”
+
+Dismissing the mysterious rifleman from their minds, they set out once
+more to enjoy the pleasures of a brisk wind, blue sky and a trim boat.
+
+The afternoon went swiftly by as Sandy learned more and more about
+handling his boat, and about the boats they saw sailing near them. Jerry
+pointed out the different types of boats, explaining more fully than
+before that the ones with one mast were called sloops, the two-masted
+boats were called yawls, ketches and schooners. Telling one from the
+other was a matter of knowing the arrangement of masts. The ketches had
+tall mainmasts and shorter mizzens behind them. The yawls had even
+shorter mizzens, set as far aft as possible. Schooners, with taller
+mizzen than main, were relatively rare.
+
+Jerry also pointed to varied types of one-masted boats. Not all of them,
+he told Sandy, were sloops, though most were. The sloops had their mast
+stepped about one third back from the bow. Cutters had their mast
+stepped nearly in the center of the boat. In addition, they saw a few
+catboats, with their single masts stepped nearly in the bows.
+
+Learning all this, plus trying to absorb all that Jerry was telling him
+about harbor markers, sail handling, steering, types of sails and
+conditions under which each sail is used, Sandy found the time flying
+by. Almost before he realized it, the sun was beginning to set and the
+boats around them were all heading back up the channel to find their
+moorings and tie up for the night.
+
+Everywhere they looked, the roadstead of Cliffport Bay was as busy as a
+highway. Sailboats of every description, outboard motorboats, big cabin
+cruisers, high-powered motor racers, rowboats, canoes, sailing canoes,
+kayaks, power runabouts, fishing excursion boats and dozens of other
+craft were making their way to shore.
+
+The afternoon, which had started so brightly, had become overcast, and
+the sun glowed sullenly behind a low bank of clouds. The breeze which
+had been steady but light during the late afternoon hours, suddenly
+picked up force and became a fairly hard wind. It felt cold and damp
+after the hot day. Joining the homebound pleasure fleet, Sandy and Jerry
+picked their way through the now crowded harbor, back to Cliffport Boat
+Yard.
+
+They arrived in a murky twilight, just a few minutes before the time
+when it would have become necessary for them to light the lanterns for
+the red and green running lights demanded by the International Rules of
+the Road.
+
+The boys decided to drop anchor in the boat yard’s mooring area, rather
+than tow the boat back to the float where it had been tied. This would
+make it unnecessary to tow the sloop out again for the next day’s
+sailing, when they would start on the long trip home.
+
+They dropped the sails, removed their slides and snaps on mast, boom and
+forestay, and carefully folded them for replacement in the sail bags.
+These were stowed below in their locker just forward of the cabin. Then
+Sandy and Jerry turned their attention to getting the boat ready for the
+night.
+
+Sandy helped Jerry rest the boom in its “crutch,” a piece of wood shaped
+like the letter _Y_, which was placed standing upright in a slot in the
+stern seat. This kept the boom from swinging loose when the boat was
+unattended, and thus protected both the boat, the boom and the rigging
+from damage. All the running gear was then lashed down or coiled and put
+away, the sliding cabin door and hatch cover were closed in place, and
+the sloop was ready to be left.
+
+“That’s what’s meant by ‘shipshape,’” Jerry said with satisfaction.
+
+As the boys rowed the dinghy back to the float, they felt the first fat
+drops of rain and they noticed how choppy the still waters of the bay
+had become. Jerry cast a sailor’s eye at the ominously darkening sky.
+
+“That’s more than evening coming on,” he said. “Unless I miss my guess,
+we’re in for a good storm tonight. To tell you the truth, I’m glad we’re
+staying ashore!”
+
+They lifted the dinghy from the water, turned it over on the float and
+placed the stubby oars below it. Then, picking up their sea bags, they
+ran for the shelter of the shed as the first torrential downpour of the
+storm washed Cliffport in a solid sheet of blinding rain.
+
+
+Later that night, after a change of clothes, dinner, and a movie at
+Cliffport’s only theater, the boys sat on their beds in the hotel room
+and listened to the howling fury of the storm. Raindrops rattled on the
+windowpanes like hailstones, and through the tossing branches of a tree
+they could see the riding lights of a few boats in the harbor, rocking
+violently to and fro. As they watched, the wind sent a large barrel
+bowling down the street to smash against a light pole, bounce off and
+roll, erratic as a kicked football, out of sight around a corner.
+
+“It’s a good thing we anchored out,” Jerry said, watching this evidence
+of the storm’s power. “The boat could really have gotten banged up
+against the float if we had tied it up where it was before!”
+
+“Do you think it’ll be safe where it is now?” Sandy asked anxiously.
+
+“Oh, a little wind and water won’t bother a good boat,” Jerry answered.
+“After all, it was made for wind and water! Still....” He scowled and
+shook his head doubtfully.
+
+“Still what?” Sandy said with alarm. “Is there something wrong with the
+way we left it?”
+
+“Not really,” Jerry said. “I’m just worried about one thing. We’re not
+tied to a permanent mooring, the way the other boats around here are.
+That means that we might drag anchor in a storm as bad as this one, and
+if we happen to drag into deep water where the anchor can’t reach the
+bottom, the boat could drift a long ways off until it hooked onto
+something again. And there’s always the chance that it could get washed
+up on the rocks somewhere, first!”
+
+With this unhappy thought in mind, the boys stared out the window for
+some time in silence as the storm continued unchecked. Finally, knowing
+that worry couldn’t possibly help, and that a good night’s sleep would
+prepare them to meet whatever the morning would bring, they turned out
+the lights and went to bed.
+
+But, for Sandy, bed was one thing—sleep was another. Although Jerry
+managed to drop off to slumber in no time, Sandy lay a long time awake
+staring at the shadows of the tossing tree on the ceiling of the hotel
+room.
+
+His mind was full of the events of the crowded day. It had been quite a
+day, starting with the ride in his uncle’s sports car, and proceeding to
+the new boat and learning to sail. Then the mysterious man on the
+island, keeping guard with his ever-present rifle, and concluding with a
+night of powerful storm. He reviewed all this, and mixed with his
+recollection his new worries about the safety of his boat. A series of
+images crowded his mind—a vision of the smart sloop lying smashed
+against some rocky piece of shore was mingled with a memory of the
+pleasures of his first day of sailing; and somewhere, behind and around
+all of his thoughts, was the unpleasantly frightening memory of the man
+with the gun, waiting on his hermit’s island.
+
+All of this mingled in his mind with the sound of the storm until Sandy
+slipped into an uncertain, restless sleep—a sleep filled with vague,
+shadowy dreams, connected only by a sense that somewhere, something was
+wrong.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER SIX
+                    Something Lost—Something Found!
+
+
+The next morning, when Sandy and Jerry awoke, the storm that had lashed
+Cliffport had vanished as if it, too, had been a bad dream.
+
+Cliffport’s Main Street, which fronted the bay, was washed clean, and
+sparkled in the bright morning light. The bay waters themselves even
+looked cleaner than before, freshly laundered blue and white, with
+silver points of sunlight sprinkled over their peaceful surface. It was,
+in short, a perfect sailing day, and the boys could hardly wait to get
+down to the boat yard to see if the sloop had ridden the storm at
+anchor.
+
+They dressed hurriedly in their sailing clothes—blue jeans, sneakers and
+sweat shirts—and bolted breakfast in the hotel coffee shop. Then, sea
+bags slung over their shoulders, they raced down the street to the
+Cliffport Boat Yard, rounded the corner of the main shed and, at the
+head of the gangway, came to a stop.
+
+Sandy felt a sick, sinking feeling as he scanned the mooring area,
+searching vainly for a sight of his sloop. But where she had ridden at
+anchor the night before, there was only a patch of calm blue water.
+
+It hardly seemed possible that she wasn’t there. The storm, on this
+bright, sunny morning, seemed never to have happened. Other boats rode
+peacefully at their moorings, apparently untouched by the night’s wild
+work. Life in the boat yard and on the bay went on as if nothing had
+occurred. But Sandy felt as if it were the end of the world.
+
+Slowly and silently, the boys walked down the gangway to where their
+dinghy lay like a turtle, unharmed. They anxiously scanned the bay on
+all sides, searching for a mast that might be theirs, but to no avail.
+Then Jerry straightened up and clapped Sandy on the shoulder.
+
+“Come on,” he said. “There’s no use standing here moping. The only thing
+to do now is to take out the dinghy and start to hunt.”
+
+They launched the dinghy, put out the stubby oars, and rowed away from
+the float.
+
+“Where do we look first?” Sandy asked.
+
+“We’ll just go the way the wind went,” Jerry said. “Luckily, the storm
+came from the mainland and blew out to sea. That means there’s a good
+chance that the boat didn’t pile up on the shore. Of course, there are a
+lot of islands out there, and plenty of rocks, but there’s a lot more
+open water. With any luck we’ll find her floating safe and sound,
+somewhere out in the bay. I don’t think she could have gone too far
+dragging that anchor.”
+
+They headed down the channel, taking occasional side excursions around
+some of the small islands whenever they saw, on the other side, a mast
+that could be theirs. But none of the boats they found was the right
+one. The hot sun made rowing even the light cockleshell of the dinghy
+unpleasant work. Sandy paused at the oars and pushed back his cowlick,
+then wiped his perspiring brow. He was beginning to fear that he would
+never again see his trim new sloop—unless he was to see it lying
+shattered on one of these rocky islands. Then, with dogged
+determination, he picked up his oars once more and bent his back to the
+task of rowing.
+
+Once or twice they asked passing sailors if they had seen an unattended
+sloop out of the mooring areas, but though everyone offered sympathy and
+promised to help if they happened to see it, none had any information to
+offer.
+
+The morning wore on slowly as Sandy and Jerry pulled farther and farther
+away from the mainland, exploring every possible hiding place the bay
+had to offer.
+
+By noon, Sandy’s spirits were at low ebb, and he was beginning to wonder
+how he would tell his Uncle Russ the bad news. Then, almost tipping the
+unsteady dinghy, Jerry half rose from his seat and pointed. “Look!” he
+shouted. “Over there! I think that’s her! And will you look at where she
+drifted to!”
+
+Sandy dropped the oars and turned to look at the small white sloop with
+the green decks that lay quietly bobbing at anchor just outside the
+entrance of the cove where, yesterday, they had been welcomed by a gun!
+
+“Of all places to drift to,” he gasped. “It’s a darn good thing she
+didn’t drift inside his cove, or she might be shot full of holes by
+now!”
+
+Then, with a lighter heart than he had felt all morning, Sandy picked up
+the oars and sent the dinghy fairly flying to the side of the trim
+sloop.
+
+“From now on,” he said, “sleeping bags and air mattresses or not, we’re
+sleeping on board until we get a permanent mooring for this boat near
+home!” Relieved and happy, Sandy climbed on board as Jerry tied the
+dinghy to the stern.
+
+“I’ll go below to get the sails out,” Sandy said, “while you unship the
+boom and get the rigging ready.”
+
+He opened the hatch cover and slid back the doors, then stepped down
+into the little cabin. As he started forward to the sail lockers, he had
+a sudden, odd feeling that something was wrong, something out of place;
+a strange notion that he had seen, out of the corner of his eye,
+something that was not what it should have been.
+
+Pausing to look around, he saw what had bothered him. Clamped to the
+bulkhead over the port bunk was a large, oddly shaped brass pistol, like
+the kind he had always imagined the old-time pirates carried. He had
+never seen anything like it before—and he was almost positive that it
+had not been there yesterday!
+
+“Jerry!” he called, sticking his head out of the hatch. “Come here! I
+want you to see something and tell me what you think.” As Jerry poked
+his head into the cabin, Sandy gestured at the brass pistol. “Was that
+thing here yesterday, or have we gotten into somebody else’s boat?”
+
+Jerry brought his dark brows together in a frown and scratched his
+crew-cut head. “I don’t think it was here. I probably would have noticed
+it. But maybe we just didn’t see it. We were so busy with other things.”
+
+“But why would Uncle Russ have left a pistol on board?” Sandy asked,
+puzzled.
+
+“He probably wouldn’t have,” Jerry said. “But he might have left one of
+these. That’s a flare gun, not a regular pistol at all. You use it as a
+signal of distress. It shoots a rocket. Still ... I don’t remember
+seeing it. And I know that your uncle didn’t mention leaving one.”
+
+“Well, I don’t know whether he did or not,” Sandy said, “but we’d better
+make sure this is our boat before we go sailing it off. If it belongs to
+that guy on the island, we could get into some pretty bad trouble if we
+took it by mistake!”
+
+As they looked for some identifying marks, an idea suddenly occurred to
+Sandy. “Maybe this isn’t our boat, but one just like it, and maybe the
+man with the gun was expecting it with somebody else on board! That
+might explain his actions!”
+
+“That makes sense,” Jerry said. “And in that case, we’d better find out
+fast if it’s ours. Look—our boat didn’t have any name on it, and most
+boats do. If this has a name, we’ll know.” He hurried to the stern to
+see, and then to the bow, where some boat owners fasten name plates, but
+none was to be seen.
+
+“That doesn’t prove anything, though,” Sandy said. “But I have an idea.
+Let’s look in the food locker. I remember pretty well what was in there
+yesterday, and I doubt if two boats would have the identical food
+supplies. One look should tell us.” He reached above the galley stove
+and slid back the doors of the locker, then stepped backward as if he
+had been hit.
+
+“It’s sure not our boat,” Sandy said in hushed tones, for in the locker
+there was no food at all. Instead, where food should have been, was what
+appeared to be a fortune in fresh, green money!
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER SEVEN
+                  A Million Dollars’ Worth of Trouble
+
+
+Sandy and Jerry, stunned for the moment, stood in silence, gazing at the
+neatly wrapped stacks of tens, twenties, fifties, hundreds and
+five-hundred-dollar bills—more money than either of them had ever
+dreamed of!
+
+“I don’t know whose boat this is,” Sandy said, “but whoever he is, he
+can sure afford a larger one!”
+
+Awed by the sight of the money, Jerry reached out and slipped a
+five-hundred-dollar bill from its wrapper. “I just want to look at it
+for a minute,” he said. “I’ve never seen a five-hundred before!”
+
+Sandy joined him to look at the crisp bill. “Neither have I,” he said.
+Then, stooping to look closer, he took the bill from Jerry’s hand and
+examined it with the most intense interest.
+
+“Jerry!” he said, almost in a whisper. “I think we’ve found more than a
+stack of money in a peculiar place! I may be mistaken, but I think this
+thing is counterfeit!”
+
+“Counterfeit!” Jerry said, with a gasp. “How can you tell, if you never
+saw a five-hundred-dollar bill before?”
+
+“Come on over into the sunlight where we can see better,” Sandy replied,
+“and I’ll show you what I mean.” They moved to the rear of the little
+cabin, where the sun poured in through the open hatchway cover. Sandy
+held the money up to the light.
+
+“Look at the corners,” he said, pointing to the lower right-hand corner
+of the bill. “You see all those fine hair lines that make the looping,
+criss-cross pattern you see on all paper money? Well, I read once that
+those loops and swirls are the hardest part of a bill to counterfeit,
+and if you’re on the lookout for phony money you should always look
+there first. Ones or one-thousands, they’re all very complicated to
+engrave. On a genuine bill the lines are sharp and clear. On a
+counterfeit, they’re usually a little fuzzy, especially where two lines
+cross. Look over here, right next to the five-hundred-dollar mark, for
+instance.”
+
+He pointed to where a complicated series of fine lines that came
+together had made a small smear, instead of a sharp, well-defined
+pattern.
+
+“You’d never find sloppy work like that on a genuine government bill,”
+Sandy said, pointing to this and to another telltale spot his sharp eyes
+had uncovered.
+
+“I see what you mean,” Jerry said. “Boy, there must be more than a
+million dollars’ worth of this useless stuff in that food locker!”
+
+“It’s not so useless to someone,” Sandy returned. “Whoever made this
+stuff and is responsible for it is sure making real money out of it in
+the end—and an awful lot of real money, too!”
+
+Jerry nodded thoughtfully, then said, “Where do you suppose it’s coming
+from?”
+
+“That shouldn’t be too hard to figure out,” Sandy answered. “That man on
+the island was pretty nervous about having any unexpected guests, I’d
+say. I’ll bet you this whole stack of money that he’s behind the whole
+thing, and that this is his boat that we’re on!”
+
+“You must be right,” Jerry said. “From the way that he came racing down
+that path with his gun yesterday, he must have been watching us all
+along, yet he didn’t come to stop us until we had dropped our anchor,
+lowered our sails, and were halfway in to shore in the dinghy! We should
+have realized when he didn’t stop us sooner what that meant. It meant
+that something funny was going on here!”
+
+“That’s right!” Sandy agreed. “He must have been expecting somebody else
+to come along in this boat—the same class and colors as ours—and he
+thought that we were whoever he was expecting—until he saw us in the
+dinghy! That’s why he was acting so confused and excited that he didn’t
+know whether to shoot at us, or to be nice and let us get our water and
+be on our way. We really caught him off guard!”
+
+“Right,” Jerry said. “And now we’ve confused the boats the same way he
+did, and we’ve caught him off guard again!”
+
+Sandy sat looking silently at the counterfeit five-hundred-dollar bill,
+frowning. Then he looked up at his friend and said, “The question now
+is, what are we going to do about it? We’re pretty lucky that we weren’t
+seen coming on board this boat, but do you think our luck is going to
+last? I’m worried that we won’t be able to get away from here again
+without being seen.”
+
+“We haven’t got much choice in the matter, have we?” Jerry answered.
+“The longer we stay here, the worse our chances will be. There’s no
+telling when the man with the gun or somebody else will come out here to
+do something with this money, and if they find us here....”
+
+“I’d sure hate to cross that fellow,” Sandy agreed. “I don’t like the
+way he handles that rifle of his. He looks too darn ready to use it!”
+
+Stuffing the counterfeit five-hundred-dollar bill into his pocket, Sandy
+stood up. “We’d better get going now, while we still have a chance,” he
+said. “The only thing to do now is to get this bill to the police as
+evidence of what we’ve found, and to put them on to this island.”
+
+Sandy started up from the cabin but, as his head emerged from the
+hatchway, he stopped dead in his tracks, for floating in a dinghy just a
+few feet away was the mysterious owner of the island accompanied by two
+tough-looking sailors! Sandy looked in dismay from their three faces to
+the muzzles of three guns pointed directly at him!
+
+It was not a pleasant smile that the man from the island gave him as he
+said, “Well! This is quite a surprise for all of us, isn’t it? Are you
+still looking for water? Or do you have a better story to entertain me
+with today?”
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER EIGHT
+                            Double Blackout
+
+
+Sandy tried his hardest to look unknowing and innocent, and at the same
+time shocked and outraged. With the three guns aimed at him, it was not
+an easy job.
+
+“What’s the idea?” he exclaimed. “I’ve never seen anybody so ready with
+a gun as you are! We were only looking for our boat. You know it looks
+the same as yours. We thought for a while that this was it, but....”
+
+“But you found out, after some thorough snooping, that it wasn’t, didn’t
+you?” the man sneered. “Of course you did. It’s my boat, all right! And
+you’re trespassing on it! And this is my island too, and you were
+trespassing there yesterday! And if I were to shoot you, I would be
+perfectly within my rights as a landowner!”
+
+Sandy tried with difficulty to smile reassuringly. “Take it easy,
+mister,” he said. “Honestly, we were just looking for our boat. It
+dragged anchor in the storm last night, and when we saw yours we made a
+natural mistake and thought it was ours. Okay, it isn’t. We made a
+mistake, that’s all. Now if you’ll just let us apologize, we’ll get off
+your private property and go looking again.”
+
+But the man didn’t show the slightest intention of even moving his rifle
+from the ready, much less of letting the boys go.
+
+“Of course you’ll go looking again,” he said. “Looking for what you were
+looking for yesterday and today. Oh, no! I hardly think I can let you
+go!” Then he smiled his peculiar smile again. “What’s more,” he added,
+“even if I were to let you go, I would first have to ask you to return
+the money you stole—the money I see sticking out of your pocket!”
+
+Sandy’s heart sank. There was nothing he could think of to say now, and
+he could see no way out of the situation. He sank wearily to a seat in
+the cockpit and sighed.
+
+“I guess we can both stop play-acting about this trespassing thing,” he
+said. He pulled the telltale bill out of his pocket and threw it on the
+deck. “This is what you’ve been so upset about all along, isn’t it?”
+
+“You’re a very bright boy,” the man with the gun said. “Far too bright,
+I’m afraid. You have this whole thing figured out already, haven’t you?”
+
+“Most of it,” Sandy admitted. “At least the parts that count. You’re
+using this island to make counterfeit money, and you’re using this
+sailboat to take it somewhere. That’s about all I know, but it’s enough
+to get you in trouble, isn’t it, Mr.—?”
+
+“Jones is the name,” the man said. “Yes, I would say it was quite
+enough. The only mistake you’ve made is your conclusion. What you know
+is enough to get _you_ in trouble—not me. In fact, I should hate to be
+in as much trouble as you two boys are in right now!” Jones put down his
+rifle for a moment and said, “Do you mind if I come on board my boat so
+that we can discuss your difficulties in more comfort?”
+
+Jones stepped out of the dinghy to the deck of the little sloop and
+settled himself comfortably in the stern seat while his two silent
+crewmen kept Sandy covered. When he was set, with his ever-present rifle
+held at ready across his knees, he was followed on board by the larger
+and meaner looking of the two sailors, who stationed himself beside
+Jones.
+
+“Oh, yes,” Jones repeated, “I should say that what you know is quite
+enough! And, since you already have too much information to ever let you
+leave here with, I’ll be happy to satisfy your immense curiosity by
+giving you a little more. But why not have your friend join us on deck?”
+
+When Jerry had come up from the cabin and was sitting beside Sandy,
+Jones cleared his throat, as if he were about to give a formal speech.
+
+“As far as you went in your thinking, you are most certainly right,” he
+said. “I use this boat to transport counterfeit money which I make on my
+island. I take it to a waiting freighter that meets me five miles off
+shore—well beyond the legal jurisdiction of the United States
+government, in international waters. The freighter takes my pretty
+counterfeit money and disposes of it in foreign markets, where I get a
+good price for it, and where not every bright and nosy boy is out to
+make a nuisance of himself.”
+
+Then, once again, Jones smiled his peculiar and unpleasant smile. “I
+find the foreign markets most useful for disposing of items which are
+too difficult to get rid of here. I expect that you will not be much
+harder to dispose of than this money, when you are beyond the limits of
+U.S. waters!”
+
+Sandy looked at Jerry in silence, desperately hoping his friend would
+come up with some flash of inspiration—some idea—which would help them
+to get out of this situation. But Jerry was no help. For that matter,
+Sandy reflected, he was not much help himself. But as long as he kept
+“Jones” talking, he’d get some more information and meanwhile, perhaps,
+he or Jerry might think of something.
+
+“There’s only one thing that has me puzzled in all this,” Sandy said
+therefore. “Why did you leave this boat full of money floating around
+outside of the cove?”
+
+Jones laughed. “There you have the full essence of our little comedy of
+errors,” he said. “Last night’s storm probably tore more than one
+hundred boats loose from their anchorages and moorings. Yours, I assure
+you, wasn’t the only one that drifted a good distance, and neither was
+mine!”
+
+“Yours?” Jerry gasped. “You mean that our boat _did_ drift over this
+way? And that you—?”
+
+“I think you understand,” Jones replied. “But it wasn’t I. It was these
+stupid fools who work for me. They had loaded the money on board the
+boat last night before the storm. Then, when it blew up, we knew that it
+was impossible to sail to the freighter until the storm had passed. They
+failed to take the money out of the boat for the night, trusting to luck
+that nothing would go wrong. But something did go wrong! My boat broke
+loose and floated out around the point to where it is now. Your boat
+drifted up to the entrance of my cove. When they came out this morning,
+my assistants saw your boat, and did not see mine.”
+
+Jones laughed a short, sharp laugh. “They actually sailed your sloop
+five miles out to the freighter! Of course they discovered their mistake
+when they opened the money locker and found it full of canned food!”
+
+He looked at the sailors with disgust, then continued. “When they
+realized their error, they promptly sailed back here, but by that time
+you had found my boat and assumed it to be yours. When they told me
+their story, I guessed at once what had happened and went to correct the
+mistake before you found out about our little business. If you had only
+come a half hour later, you would have found your own boat and sailed it
+off in perfect safety. Unfortunately for you, you were just a little too
+soon.”
+
+“As long as you’re telling us the whole story,” Jerry said, “will you
+answer a question for me? I don’t understand why you bother with
+sailboats, when a power boat could do the job so much faster.”
+
+“That’s a fair question,” Jones said. “You _are_ smart boys, aren’t you?
+Well, I pride myself on using my brains, too. I use this
+innocent-looking sloop for several reasons, one of which caused this
+whole ridiculous mix-up. For one thing, an individual member of a
+popular class of sailboat is very hard for the casual observer to
+identify. This we have both seen to be true. For another thing, everyone
+thinks of a sailboat as being merely a pleasure craft, and would never
+suspect it of anything illegal. It can go in and out of the harbor on a
+regular schedule and nobody will notice it or even realize it’s the same
+boat they are seeing. Third, all power boats have to be registered and
+licensed by the Coast Guard, while a sailboat is so anonymous that it
+doesn’t even have to have a name. Fourth, it gives me a reason to live
+on this island. To the people who stop to think of me, if they think of
+me at all, I am a retired gentleman whose principal hobby is sailing,
+and who lives on an island in order to get the most enjoyment out of the
+sport.”
+
+Again Jones smiled, and Sandy shivered. “It’s quite a neat setup, don’t
+you agree?” Jones said. “And, with the same neatness that is a part of
+my way of life, I am now going to put an end to this whole unpleasant
+interruption.”
+
+Suddenly dropping his lazy conversational manner, Jones sat upright and
+pointed his rifle at Sandy. Not moving his eyes from the boys, he spoke
+to the sailor who was still standing silent by his side. “We’ll have to
+take them out to the freighter now. There’s nothing else to do. I’ll
+decide what to do with them later on. You and Turk sail this boat and
+I’ll follow in theirs. Lock them below,” he added, nodding toward Sandy
+and Jerry.
+
+For the first time since they had seen him, the sailor spoke. “Okay,” he
+said. “We won’t mess it up this time.” Then, this being apparently the
+longest speech of which he was capable, he shut his mouth into a thin,
+hard line, and moved heavily to the boys.
+
+Using his pistol as a goad, he poked Sandy in the ribs and motioned him
+to go below. As Sandy started to take his first step down into the
+cabin, the sailor shoved him roughly and sent him sprawling onto the
+deck below. His head spinning, Sandy looked up to see the giant sailor
+towering above him. He was conscious of an odd noise, like a strangled,
+slow sobbing, far away. What was it? He had never heard such an ugly
+sound in his life....
+
+Then, as his head cleared, he realized what it was that he was hearing.
+The sailor was laughing!
+
+Afterward, Sandy was unable to explain why the strange laughing sound,
+and the sight of the warped expression that only faintly resembled a
+smile, should have made him behave as he did. An uncontrollable fury
+filled him and he jumped to his feet with a headlong rush!
+
+Caught off guard by Sandy’s sudden attack, the sailor made a clumsy move
+to sidestep, but not before Sandy’s swing had caught him a terrific blow
+in the ribs. All of Sandy’s six feet of wiry muscle went into the blow,
+and the sailor reeled back, staggering.
+
+Sandy followed him into the cockpit to take advantage of the surprise
+attack, just in time to see Jones bring down the barrel of his rifle
+sharply on Jerry’s head. Sandy whirled to face Jones as Jerry dropped to
+the deck.
+
+He started forward, cocking his fist to lash out before Jones could
+raise his rifle again, but suddenly, with a sound like a bat striking a
+ball, a blinding light seemed to explode in his face. This first
+sensation was followed by a dull roaring sound and a spreading pool of
+inky blackness. He felt his knees buckle....
+
+Somewhere, from afar, he heard Jones speaking in bored tones.
+
+“Bull,” he was saying, almost lazily, “you know how I dislike
+unnecessary violence in any form. If you hadn’t shoved the boy, this
+little scene would never—”
+
+And that was the last Sandy was to hear for quite a while.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER NINE
+                            To the Freighter
+
+
+When Sandy came to, the first thing he was aware of was a terrific
+headache. This was accompanied by such severe dizziness that when he
+tried to sit up he sank back immediately, holding his head. Gingerly, he
+ran his hand over his skull as if to make sure that it was still all in
+one piece. Then he lay still for a while, afraid to try moving anything
+else, and looked at the ceiling above him.
+
+Slowly, the dizziness ebbed away and the pain lurking behind his eyes
+settled down to a more bearable level. When he felt it was safe to try,
+he moved more cautiously than the first time, sat up and swung his long
+legs over the edge of the bunk.
+
+For a moment, he simply sat there with his elbows on his knees and his
+head propped in his hands, and looked at the decking. He had to think
+hard, as if he were remembering a dream that was fast fading away. Why
+was he in this bunk below? How was Jerry handling the boat alone? He
+frowned, pushed back his cowlick and raised his head.
+
+As he did so, he caught sight of the brass flare gun clipped to its
+bracket on the opposite bulkhead, and suddenly he remembered everything
+that had happened. Of course! This was not his boat at all, and Jerry
+wasn’t sailing it alone—or in any other way, for that matter!
+
+Jerry lay on the opposite bunk below the flare gun, propped up on one
+elbow and looking at him with a grin.
+
+“I guess it isn’t funny,” he said, “but you sure took an awful long time
+to wake up and figure out what had happened to you! I’ve been lying here
+awake for five minutes now, just watching you come up from under!”
+Ruefully rubbing a hand across his black crew-cut, he added, “I guess I
+must have taken the same length of time doing it when I woke up, but
+there wasn’t anybody here to time me!”
+
+“I saw Jones hit you,” Sandy said, “and he sure wasn’t making any
+special effort to be gentle. I guess that Bull, the big sailor, got me
+from behind when I turned to go after Jones.”
+
+Still rubbing his head, Jerry sat up in his bunk and faced his friend.
+“Sandy,” he asked, “what made you take a swing at Bull like that? You
+sure must have known that the two of us didn’t stand much of a chance in
+a fight against three men with guns!”
+
+“I don’t suppose I was really thinking at all,” Sandy answered. “I know
+it was a pretty foolish thing to do, but there was just something about
+Bull’s laugh.... Anyway, I’m sorry. It could have got us killed right
+then and there, I guess. As it is, I think we’re lucky to have got away
+with nothing more than a couple of headaches.”
+
+“What do you mean, a couple?” Jerry said. “I’ve got two myself!”
+
+Both boys laughed, but as their laughter died down, they became more
+serious than they had been before.
+
+“Look, we can sit here and make jokes about the situation until they get
+us out to that freighter,” Sandy said, “but that isn’t going to help us
+to figure out a way to escape and get to the police.”
+
+“You’re perfectly right,” Jerry agreed. “We’d better scout around and
+size things up while we’ve got a chance.”
+
+“And we’d better do it fast,” Sandy added. “We don’t know how long we’ve
+been knocked out, so we haven’t any idea how much time we have left
+before we arrive at the freighter. And by then, it might very well be
+too late to do anything for ourselves at all.”
+
+Half rising from their bunks, for the cabin roof was too low to allow
+them full standing headroom, they moved aft to the sliding doors that
+separated them from the cockpit. Gently testing the doors, Sandy found
+that they were locked, as he had assumed they would be. A crack of light
+showed where the two halves of the door met, and he placed his eye to
+it. With a frown, he turned around to look at Jerry.
+
+“Boy, they’re not taking any chances this time,” he whispered. “Both of
+the sailors are out there in the cockpit, and the one called Turk has
+his pistol in his hand, and it’s pointed right at this door!”
+
+Moving back to the bunks, Sandy and Jerry knelt to look through the
+small windows above them. On both sides of the sloop, there was nothing
+to see but water—not so much as a buoy or another boat in sight. Far off
+to the starboard side, they made out a low smudge that was the shore.
+
+“We must be almost there!” Sandy said.
+
+“Do you think there’s any use trying the forward hatch?” asked Jerry.
+“Or do you suppose that they have that one locked tight, too?”
+
+“I don’t know if it matters much one way or the other,” Sandy sighed.
+“Even if it is open, I wouldn’t care to stick my head out—not with Turk
+sitting back there with his pistol ready! I think I’ve had enough of
+rushing into pistols for one day!” Putting his hand to his head, he felt
+the lump that was forming above his right ear.
+
+Moving with the most extreme caution, so as to attract no attention from
+their guards, they started to explore the cabin for whatever
+possibilities it had to offer. Coming to the two tiny forward portholes,
+barely large enough to put a hand through, Sandy paused to take a look
+forward.
+
+Before their bow, perhaps fifty yards away, was a boat sailing calmly
+along as if the whole world were on a holiday. For one short instant,
+Sandy thought that this might be their chance—perhaps a signal with the
+flare gun might bring aid from the passing sailor! But his hopes were
+shattered in no time as he realized that the sloop sailing ahead was his
+own, sailed by Jones who was leading the way to the freighter that
+waited, like doom, not far off.
+
+Even in his hopelessness, Sandy could not help pausing to admire his
+boat, graceful and trim, making good time beating into a steady breeze.
+He thought for a moment of the preceding day when he had learned to take
+the tiller and had first felt the happy pride of ownership and
+accomplishment that comes to every boat owner. What a change in fortunes
+this new day had brought! Now his boat was no longer his and, instead of
+carrying him to pleasure, was leading him to what looked like certain
+disaster!
+
+As he watched, his boat suddenly put about on a new tack. He saw Jones
+skillfully handling both the tiller and the sheets. The jib was swiftly
+brought over to fill and, together with the mainsail, was trimmed and
+drawing in no time. Whatever else you could say about Jones, Sandy
+thought, the man sure knew how to handle a boat!
+
+The new tack set by Jones was followed by their sailor-guards. With a
+creak of tackle and rigging and a shifting of weight to the opposite
+side, the little sloop came about. Still at his lookout post at the
+forward port, Sandy saw the head of the boat swing about. As it did so,
+he caught sight of their destination.
+
+“Jerry! Look!” he whispered, motioning his friend to join him at the
+other porthole. There, high in the water, perhaps a mile away, was the
+dark shape of the freighter. Wisps of gray-white smoke curled from its
+stack and drifted off in the breeze. It was an ordinary-looking freight
+cargo ship, such as you would see in any port of the world. It had a
+black hull, a white deckhouse and a black stack marked with green
+stripes. All perfectly ordinary, perhaps, but to Sandy and Jerry it
+looked sinister and piratical. They stared at it for a few minutes,
+trying to judge their rate of progress from the lessening distance
+between themselves and the black-hulled ship. Then Sandy tore himself
+away from the porthole and grabbed Jerry’s arm.
+
+“Jerry, we’ve got to start acting fast,” he said. “There’s hardly any
+time left!”
+
+“Act how?” Jerry said. “What can we do but sit here and wait like a
+couple of chickens in a crate being taken to market? If you can think of
+anything to do, I’m game, but I haven’t got an idea in my head.”
+
+“I don’t think there’s anything we can do about the situation now,”
+Sandy said, “but I have an idea that might work later on. It may not be
+worth much, but anything’s worth trying.” He cast his eyes about the
+small cabin.
+
+“Did you by any chance come across a first-aid kit while you were
+searching?” he asked.
+
+“Yes, I did,” Jerry answered. “It’s in that locker next to the money.
+But what do you want it for?”
+
+“Bring it over and I’ll show you,” Sandy answered.
+
+While Jerry went for the first-aid kit, Sandy took the brass flare
+pistol from its bracket above the bunk. Then he sat down on the bunk and
+rolled up his pants leg. “Here,” he said. “Give me some tape. I’m going
+to strap this bulky thing to my leg if we have enough.”
+
+“What for?” Jerry asked in surprise. “It’s not a real gun, you know. All
+it does is fire a flare. Besides, there’s only one flare in here, and I
+don’t know if that can do us very much good.”
+
+“I don’t care about the flares,” Sandy answered. “It’s the gun itself
+that I’m interested in. It fooled me when I saw it and it just might
+possibly fool someone else who might not be familiar with these things.
+I’m hoping that if we get a chance to pull it on someone after dark, we
+can fool him long enough to get hold of a real gun that will help us
+escape!”
+
+“That’s not a bad idea,” Jerry admitted. “That is, if we’re still alive
+by dark!”
+
+“That’s about all I’m hoping for now,” Sandy answered. “I don’t know
+whether we can do any good with this flare gun or not, but it’s pretty
+clear that we can’t escape from _this_ boat. So I’m doing what I can to
+let us be able to take advantage of any chance we get on board the
+freighter. If we’re lucky enough to _get_ a chance.”
+
+As he spoke, Sandy was fastening the bulky flare pistol to the inside of
+his calf, making it as secure as he could with the tape from the
+first-aid kit. Finished at last, he stood up as well as he could in the
+low-ceilinged cabin, and tried to walk around.
+
+“Does it show too much?” he asked Jerry, shaking his leg a little.
+
+“It shows,” Jerry said, without much encouragement. “But maybe if you
+move around carefully, and if they don’t take a sudden interest in your
+legs, you might get away with it. Anyway, what can we lose by trying?”
+
+Sandy looked down at the bulge which so obviously distorted the leg of
+his blue jeans. He was afraid that he would never get away with it. He
+remembered the bell-bottom pants that the Navy enlisted men wear and
+that all sailors once wore, and he wondered if their original purpose
+had been to carry concealed weapons. Whatever they were for, he sure
+wished he were wearing a pair now!
+
+“I guess this is about as good as we can get it,” Sandy said. “If one of
+us only had a jacket on, we could probably hide the gun under an arm,
+but these sweat shirts just don’t leave enough room.”
+
+“No, I think the leg is a better place anyway,” Jerry said. “If they
+search us for weapons, they’re apt to miss your leg, but they’d never
+miss patting you under the arm. Anyway, we don’t have a jacket, and as
+far as I can see there’s no place else to hide the thing.”
+
+The boys took a last look around the cabin to see if there was anything
+else to help them, but there was not even a small kitchen knife or a can
+opener in the little galley. It seemed that Mr. Jones kept only
+counterfeit money in that area. As they were carefully exploring every
+possible nook and cranny in the cabin, they felt the sloop heel to the
+other side as it once more came about to go on a new tack.
+
+From the vantage point of the two forward ports they saw the reason for
+this latest maneuver. They were coming up to the wind alongside the
+freighter, preparing to stop. The high sides of the big ship loomed
+above them like the walls of a fortress, but chipped and scarred with
+streaks of rust. As the sloop swung completely into the wind, losing
+headway, they caught sight of Jones making a line fast to the bow of
+Sandy’s boat. Then, with a rattle of slides and a clumping of heavy
+steps on the cabin roof overhead, the counterfeiters’ craft came to a
+halt and was made fast alongside the freighter.
+
+Whatever was to happen, it would happen now!
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER TEN
+                       Aboard the Floating Prison
+
+
+Moving away from the forward portholes, Sandy and Jerry sat on the edges
+of the bunks and waited for their captors to come and get them. Both
+boys made themselves look as if they were completely dejected—as if they
+had already given up any hopes they might have had of escaping or of
+being rescued.
+
+In a few minutes the footsteps on the deck and cabin top stopped and the
+little craft lay bobbing and wallowing in the sea swell that rose and
+fell alongside the freighter.
+
+Rope bumpers, large braided lengths of thick cordage, were lashed to the
+sides of the sloop to keep it from being damaged by rubbing and banging
+against the steel side of the big ship.
+
+Although they were listening as closely as possible to everything that
+went on, they could not make out the words they heard shouted from the
+freighter’s deck far above. Nevertheless, the sense of them was made
+clear by the answer that Turk bellowed back.
+
+“Yeah! we got the stuff this time, all right! And we got a couple of
+other pieces of cargo with us, too! Wait and we’ll show you!”
+
+This was the moment, Sandy thought. He would have to be careful, he
+warned himself, not to lose his temper as he had done last time, even if
+he was roughed up and shoved around again. And above all, he must be
+careful about the way he moved. One false step would surely outline the
+telltale shape of the flare gun taped to his leg—and that would be the
+end of the only “weapon” that he and Jerry had! Not only that, but it
+might well be the end of the only chance they would have to get away
+with whole skins!
+
+A bolt grated in its slide on the companionway door and the hatch slid
+open to reveal Turk, pistol in hand, grinning nastily at them.
+
+“Okay, gents,” he said. “The first-class passage on the local ferry is
+over. Just step up on deck, and we’ll transfer to the next vessel.”
+
+As Sandy reached the companionway steps, Turk reached down and grabbed
+him by the neck of his shirt. With a swift heave, he sent Sandy
+sprawling on the cockpit deck. Keeping a tight control on his temper,
+Sandy confined his thoughts to worrying about getting his leg tucked
+under him in such a position that the flare pistol wouldn’t show.
+
+But he need not have worried, for Turk was too busy enjoying himself
+giving the same treatment to Jerry, who came flying out of the cabin to
+land heavily on the deck alongside Sandy.
+
+“These boys sure play a lot of rough games,” he murmured. “And I’m
+afraid that this is only the beginning of a whole world’s series!”
+
+“Take it easy,” Sandy whispered to his friend. “Let’s just go along with
+them quietly. Maybe we can keep in one piece until we have a chance to
+figure a way out.”
+
+At Turk’s orders, they rose to their feet. Looking up to the freighter’s
+deck high above them, they saw the other sailor, Bull, already on board,
+at the top of a long rope ladder. He too had his pistol held ready, and
+the expression on his face gave every indication that he would be only
+too glad to use it if he were given even half an excuse to do so.
+
+“Get up that ladder,” Turk ordered, “and don’t try nothing funny. We’ll
+have you covered all the way.” He waved his pistol at Jerry to indicate
+that he wanted him to go up the ladder first.
+
+Sandy’s heart seemed to sink in his chest. The order of climbing was all
+wrong—it couldn’t be wronger! Jerry first, himself next, and Turk last!
+Surely Turk, if he was below him looking up as he climbed, couldn’t fail
+to notice the flare pistol taped to Sandy’s leg!
+
+Acting as if he misunderstood Turk’s wordless command, Sandy stepped
+forward and grabbed the rope ladder, but the sailor’s big hand gripped
+him by the shoulder hard and firmly pulled him back.
+
+“You sure are eager, ain’t ya, kid? And you’re tricky, too. Now why did
+you want to go up that ladder first? That ain’t no picnic or party up
+there!” He screwed his big face into a frown of deep thought. Apparently
+unable to reach a decision, he undid his thinking expression and snarled
+at Sandy. “Just stop thinkin’ up tricks, see! You let me do the thinkin’
+here! Now, you go on first, the way I told ya!” He pushed Jerry toward
+the ladder.
+
+Resigned to having his flare gun discovered, and almost resigned to
+whatever would happen next, Sandy moved to the ladder to take his turn,
+when once more the big hand of Turk pulled him back. “I told you I’d do
+the thinkin’!” Turk said. “I don’t know what you got up your sleeve, but
+whatever it is, you’d better forget it. I’m goin’ up next!”
+
+At last, here was a turn of luck! Sandy could hardly keep from grinning
+as Turk started to mount the rope ladder. The big sailor swung up
+easily, keeping his eyes always turned downward to Sandy. Halfway up, he
+stopped.
+
+“Come on, now,” he said. “You won’t be able to play no tricks this way.
+You’re too far back for any leg grabbing, and I got this gun aimed right
+at the top of your head. Now come on up, and come slow!”
+
+Sandy stepped from the deck of the sloop to the lower rungs of the rope
+ladder and did as he was told, moving his “gun leg” as carefully as he
+could without running the risk of attracting any attention to it. At
+least, he thought with some satisfaction, he had gotten over the first
+hurdle!
+
+On the deck of the freighter, the boys were met by Jones, Bull, and a
+mean-looking crew of some of the dirtiest men they had ever seen. The
+freighter itself was none too clean, with paint scaling from the decks
+and splotches of grease covering the cargo-handling winches and other
+deck machinery. The white deckhouse, seen from close quarters, was a
+dingy and spotted gray, and the portholes were streaked with dirt and
+dried salt.
+
+In the midst of a rat’s nest of coiled ropes, fraying cables and other
+ship’s debris, Jones sat on an overturned crate as if it were an easy
+chair. He seemed perfectly at ease and completely out of place at the
+same time, his smart sports clothes and yachting cap making an odd
+contrast to the mixed clothing of the freighter’s crew.
+
+Despite his air of being a gentleman of leisure, Jones had his rifle
+still with him, lying across his knees, and his long fingers played
+restlessly with the safety catch and the trigger.
+
+“Gentlemen,” he smiled. “Welcome aboard. I hope you will find our modest
+accommodations suitable for your long journey. The Captain will arrive
+in a moment, and I am sure that he will do whatever is in his power to
+see to it that you are treated—appropriately.” Still smiling, he turned
+to Bull and said, “Bull, see to it that our passengers aren’t carrying
+any unnecessary luggage.”
+
+Bull looked puzzled. “I don’t getcha,” he mumbled.
+
+Jones rose with a swift movement, his smile turned at once to ice. “If
+you weren’t such a stupid lout, perhaps you’d get me the first time I
+speak to you! If you weren’t such a stupid lout, we wouldn’t have had
+these boys here with us in the first place.”
+
+He moved forward as if to strike the cowering Bull, but stopped and
+regained control over himself. Once more, he put on his bland smile.
+
+“Pardon my temper and my little jokes, Bull,” he said. “What I meant by
+‘unnecessary luggage’ was concealed weapons. In other words, frisk
+them.”
+
+Bull shook his head and said, “Why’ntcha say so inna first place?” and
+started toward Jerry and Sandy.
+
+Once again Sandy tensed. If only his luck would hold and he could get
+through without having Bull find the flare gun! Otherwise....
+
+He watched as Bull patted Jerry, none too gently. He realized that, if
+Jerry had been wearing a jacket under which to hide the flare gun, it
+would surely have been discovered. Soon Bull was finished with Jerry,
+and it was Sandy’s turn. Bull frisked him quickly and clumsily, patting
+his chest and under his arms, even though it was obvious that he
+couldn’t possibly have hidden anything there. Bull’s big hands continued
+down to Sandy’s pockets, hesitated for a moment, and stopped right
+there. He turned to face Jones.
+
+“They’re clean,” he said.
+
+Jones nodded, not paying too much attention to Bull or to the search. “I
+didn’t think that they would have had the foresight to bring any
+weapons. Still—there’s no sense taking any chances. In this business,
+one can’t be too careful.”
+
+Noticing that Jones was not looking directly at either Bull or
+themselves as he said all this, Sandy followed his gaze to the upper
+decks of the freighter, wondering what he _was_ looking for. A door
+swung open and a man stepped out into the late afternoon sunshine. Jones
+rose, waved to the man and called, “Captain! Come down! We have a little
+surprise for you!”
+
+Sandy had not known what to expect of the captain of such a ship as
+this, but surely, the man who came down the ladder did not look in the
+least like anything he might have imagined! He would not have been
+really surprised by a bearded giant, or another tough, such as one of
+the crew, or even, perhaps, by a turbaned oriental—but this captain was
+surely a complete surprise!
+
+He was a thin, wispy-looking old man—how old, Sandy could not begin to
+guess—with a face like a wise preacher’s or perhaps a college
+professor’s. He was dressed entirely in white, down to his old-fashioned
+white high-buttoned shoes, and he carried a bamboo cane with a gold
+head. To finish off this spotless outfit, so out of keeping with his
+ship, the Captain wore a pith helmet, such as British officers wear in
+the tropics!
+
+The old man moved briskly down the steep ladder from the upper decks
+and, with scarcely a glance at the boys, addressed himself to Jones.
+
+“Who are these children?” he asked, his voice thin and reedy, but
+carrying authority and as sharp as the crack of a whip.
+
+As Jones explained the presence of the boys on board the freighter, the
+Captain looked from them to Jones and back again. When Jones told him
+how Bull and Turk had mistaken Sandy’s sloop for his own, the Captain
+shifted his gaze to the two sailors, who almost winced under his cutting
+stare of scorn. Then, when the tale was done, he devoted his attention
+exclusively to Jones once more.
+
+“What do you want to do about it?” he asked.
+
+“I leave that entirely up to you,” Jones said. “I want no part of any
+violence—if it can be avoided. Besides, you will have them on your
+hands, and I’ll be ashore, so that it’s hardly my place to dictate the
+conditions of their—er—disposal.”
+
+Jones rose, leaning casually on his rifle as if it were a walking stick.
+“Whatever you want to do is all right with me. Just get rid of them,
+that’s all. And do it in a way that won’t attract any suspicions ashore.
+I don’t want anyone poking around the island asking questions about
+them.”
+
+The Captain thought for a minute, then answered, “I don’t think we’ll
+have anyone poking around the island. Not if we handle this thing right.
+They must not, you see, simply disappear. If they just drop out of sight
+without a trace, it will surely bring on a search, and someone may have
+seen them near your place. No, that won’t do. On the contrary, they must
+be found. But they must be found in such a condition that they can
+answer no questions—ever. And it must look natural.”
+
+“Perfect logic,” Jones said. “I agree completely. But how are you going
+to manage it?”
+
+“We will keep them aboard,” the Captain answered, “locked up below. I
+will tow their sloop after us. When we are a satisfactory distance from
+shore—say a thousand miles—we will put them into their boat and cut them
+loose.”
+
+“But,” Jones protested, “isn’t there a chance that they could make it in
+to shore somewhere? Men have managed rougher trips than that in the
+past.”
+
+“Don’t worry about details,” the Captain said in his quiet, scholarly
+voice. “I’ll take care of everything. First, we will drop them far out
+of any regular shipping lanes. In addition, we will first wreck their
+sails, their mast and their rigging as if it had been done by a storm.
+When they are finally found, it will be too late to do anything about
+them. It will just look as if a storm had wrecked them and blown them
+out to sea. It’s a tidy way to operate—no messy violence—and there will
+be no clues to lead to your precious island.”
+
+Jones considered for a minute before answering. “It sounds all right to
+me, if you say so. After all, you know your end of the business better
+than I do.”
+
+“Indeed I do,” the Captain answered calmly.
+
+“Now,” Jones said briskly, dismissing the matter of the boys from his
+mind, “we have my other cargo to discuss before our dealings are
+finished for this trip.”
+
+The Captain held up a thin, white hand to stop Jones. “Not now,” he
+said. “Our business can wait until we have refreshed ourselves and had a
+bit of dinner. Then when it is dark, you can turn over your cargo—if the
+terms are satisfactory—and sail home unobserved.”
+
+He waved his stick at the boys and motioned to two of his crew members.
+“Take them below and lock them in an empty cabin. And set a close watch
+on them.”
+
+As Sandy and Jerry were led off by the two crewmen, they saw the Captain
+precede Jones to the foot of the deckhouse ladder. He paused and bowed,
+indicating that Jones should go first. Somehow, the courtly,
+old-fashioned gesture seemed to Sandy more sinister than anything else
+he had seen since the start of this day.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER ELEVEN
+                            Escape to Danger
+
+
+Stepping over the high sill of the door that led from the deck to the
+passageway, Sandy and Jerry were plunged at once into gloom and
+near-darkness. The throb of the freighter’s engines, barely noticeable
+on deck, became a roar, and the passage was thick with the smells and
+heat from the engine room below.
+
+They were pushed and shoved along the passage, past a number of doors
+which Sandy presumed were the crew’s quarters. On the other side of the
+passage, an occasional door opened onto the engine room, a great cavern
+of heat and noise, brightly illuminated by lights on all sides, and
+crisscrossed by catwalks and ladders.
+
+Without a word, their guides stopped before a door opposite the main
+opening to the engine room. One of them produced a large key ring and,
+after a moment’s searching for the right key, unlocked the door.
+
+Motioning them to enter, the guard stood aside as Sandy and Jerry
+stepped into the gloom of a small cabin. Then the door slammed behind
+them, the key clicked in the lock, and they were alone. Through the
+ventilating slits cut in the top and bottom of the door, they heard one
+of their captors.
+
+“You take the first watch while I go for chow. I’ll bring the kids
+something to eat when I come back, then you can get yours.” The other
+said something in agreement, and the speaker’s footsteps in the
+passageway were soon drowned out in the roar of the engines.
+
+Sinking to a seat on the bare springs of a bunk with no mattress, Jerry
+looked up at Sandy and asked, “What now?”
+
+“I don’t know,” Sandy admitted. “But at least we got away with the flare
+gun, and we may figure out a way to use it.” He lowered himself to the
+bare bunk opposite the one Jerry occupied, and surveyed their floating
+prison.
+
+The cabin offered very little promise of help. There were the two double
+bunks, both bare of mattresses, four lockers, a sink in one corner and a
+single porthole. Going to the porthole, Sandy tried to open it, but with
+no success. The “dogs” that secured it, heavy steel latches, were welded
+in place, and the glass of the porthole looked too heavy to break.
+Obviously, the place had been used as a prison before. Outside of the
+porthole, there was nothing but the sea. Even if the glass could be
+broken, Sandy didn’t like the idea of dropping down into the black
+waters below. That seemed as unpromising a position as the one they were
+in now!
+
+The lockers were the next subject of their exploration but, as they
+expected, these proved as empty and bare as the cabin itself. The sink,
+the only remaining thing in the room, was the source of no inspiration.
+
+Settling himself on the bunk once more, Sandy began to roll up his pants
+leg. “I guess this flare gun is our only hope at that,” he said. “We
+might as well have it ready.”
+
+He quickly undid the adhesive tape, then stuck the gun in his belt. As
+he did so, an idea came to him.
+
+“Jerry, I think I have it!” he whispered.
+
+The plan was a simple one—almost too simple to work. But it seemed the
+only chance they had. Sandy proposed to wait until the guard came with
+their food, then, threatening him with the flare pistol, they would try
+to overcome him, tie him up, and make their way to the deck. Once there,
+they would have to find a way out. It seemed a slim hope, but what else
+could they do?
+
+Jerry agreed, and whispering quietly, they worked out the best positions
+to take to make their attack good. Meanwhile, one more stroke of good
+fortune came to them. Jerry found that he still had the roll of adhesive
+tape in his pocket, undiscovered in Bull’s quick inspection. It would
+come in handy for binding and gagging the guards, if they could once
+overcome them.
+
+Now there was nothing to do but wait. Through the porthole, they could
+see the sky growing dark, and the gathering gloom in the cabin raised
+their spirits. It was one more bit of aid that might fool their jailer
+into thinking the flare gun was a real weapon. The last glow of day was
+dying on the horizon when they once more heard voices in the passageway.
+
+Jerry took his position by the door while Sandy readied the flare gun,
+then sat on one of the bunks. The door swung open and their guards
+entered, the lead man carrying a tray and his companion behind him.
+
+As they stepped over the sill, Sandy stood up suddenly, upsetting the
+tray. Hot coffee spilled over the lead man, who stepped backward with a
+cry. As he did so, Jerry, from his position behind the door, reached out
+and knocked the second man to the deck. At the same moment, Sandy raised
+his flare gun and aimed.
+
+“All right,” he said. “I have you covered!”
+
+“Do what he says,” one of the sailors said. “Do you see that gun? It’s a
+flare!”
+
+Sandy was startled. If they knew it was not a real pistol, why didn’t
+they charge him? Why were they cowering away? Then he realized for the
+first time that the flare pistol, used as a weapon, must be an awful
+thing. Anything that could send a stream of flame hundreds of feet into
+the air could surely inflict a terrible wound when used against a man.
+He shuddered, knowing he could never use it in this way. But as long as
+the sailors didn’t know it....
+
+It was short work to silence the men with adhesive-tape gags, and to
+tape their hands firmly behind their backs. When this was done, the boys
+pushed the sailors into the lockers, taped their ankles together, and
+shut them in. The locker doors secured firmly with a latch. Leaving the
+cabin silently, Sandy and Jerry locked its door behind them. That
+certainly took care of two of their captors. Now, if the rest would just
+prove this easy!
+
+As they stepped away from the door, Sandy whispered, “Let’s get out of
+this passage fast. There are too many doors here, and one might pop open
+at any minute!”
+
+They swiftly moved down the length of the passage until they reached the
+bulkhead door. Outside, the deck was dark, with the complete blackness
+of a night at sea, pierced only by the shaft of light that came from the
+passage. Moving now as quickly as they could, they slipped out onto the
+deck, and stepped back out of the light. Their shadows had been outlined
+boldly against the passage light for only a second. They crouched in the
+darkness and waited to be sure they had not been observed. So far, so
+good.
+
+Now that they had gotten this far, Sandy realized, their problems were
+just beginning. How were they to get off the ship? And how could they
+prevent being followed?
+
+“Jerry,” he whispered, “we’ve got to see to it that we get away from
+here in the fastest boat they have! I wonder if there’s a power boat
+around?”
+
+“There has to be,” Jerry answered. “Every ship carries lifeboats, and
+one of them always has power so it can be used as a captain’s launch
+when necessary.”
+
+“Well, let’s find it!” Sandy whispered.
+
+Gazing over the side, they could see no boat tied up at all. They had to
+work their way to the other side of the freighter, without once more
+crossing the telltale path of light from the passageway. To do this,
+they had to work their way forward to the bow, and then around to the
+other side of the ship. Slowly, with as much care as they could muster,
+they dropped to their knees and began to crawl.
+
+They reached the forepeak with no trouble, except the minor difficulties
+of crawling over the mess of rope and ship’s gear scattered around the
+disordered deck. As they started back, though, two dark forms appeared
+in the light of the passage!
+
+“Down!” Sandy whispered, and he and Jerry dropped flat on the deck
+behind the protection of the windlass. Peering around the corner of the
+huge machine, with its coil of giant anchor chain, they watched the
+figures come nearer. Halfway between them and the deckhouse, the shadows
+stopped, leaning against the bulwark, and lit cigarettes.
+
+In the brief flare of the match, the boys recognized the grim face of
+Turk. The other man with him was a sailor they had seen on deck with the
+rest of the crew when they had been taken aboard the freighter. He spoke
+in a thin, flat, whining voice, with a trace of a foreign accent that
+might have had its origin in any country in the world, but which by now
+was simply international. The first words the boys could make out came
+from Turk.
+
+“This waiting is getting on my nerves,” he rumbled. “What’s keeping us
+from shoving off?”
+
+“It’s the big businessmen up there,” the sailor whined, jerking his
+thumb toward the Captain’s quarters. “Jones wants more for the phony
+dough than he got last time, and the Skipper wants to give him less. The
+Skipper says he rates a break in the price for getting rid of those kids
+for Jones. Jones says he’s taking as much risk as the Skipper.”
+
+“And how about us?” Turk asked. “Ain’t we in this as much as them?
+Where’s the payoff for us?”
+
+“I don’t know about you,” the sailor answered. “But the Skipper never
+let _us_ down yet. He says he’s gotta have better terms so’s to pay us a
+bonus. And we’ll get it,” he continued, his voice taking on a mean,
+determined tone. “We’ll get it, or else!”
+
+Sandy and Jerry, scarcely daring to breathe, lay still in the shadow of
+the windlass, listening to this exchange. At each word, the black
+freighter seemed less and less like a place where they wanted to stay.
+Something had to be done, and fast! As each moment wore on, Jones and
+the Captain were coming closer to an agreement, and when that agreement
+was reached, the ship would sail. And if it sailed with them still
+aboard, Sandy thought, their chance of escape would slim down almost to
+the vanishing point!
+
+For a few minutes, Turk and his friend stood silently at the rail and
+smoked their cigarettes. The stillness of the scene was marked only by
+the glow of coals against the black sea and sky. Then one of the
+cigarettes made an arch through the night as it was flipped over the
+side. The figures straightened.
+
+“I’m going back up there,” Turk announced, “and see if I can get any
+better idea what’s going on. I’ll listen at the porthole, and you stay
+back on the boat deck and cover for me. If anyone comes along, start to
+whistle.”
+
+The two dark figures walked back to the deckhouse and disappeared for a
+moment in the shadows. A few minutes later, Sandy saw their forms
+outlined briefly against the light from a porthole on the boat deck;
+then they passed once more from sight.
+
+Turning to Jerry, Sandy whispered, “We’d better get going! If they wind
+up that business talk before we’re out of here, I don’t give us much of
+a chance!”
+
+Once more, they crept in the shadows, moving with painful care over the
+tangled equipment that seemed to cover the decks everywhere. At last,
+reaching the ladder from the main deck to the boat deck, they paused and
+took stock. Above them, showing only as a dark shape against the dark
+sky, loomed the bow of the nearest of the freighter’s four lifeboats.
+Slowly, and with the greatest of care, they slipped up the ladder until
+Sandy’s head was at a level with the deck above. He waited and watched
+to be sure the deck was uninhabited. When he was reasonably certain, he
+moved ahead, slower now than before, and slid his body up onto the deck.
+Jerry followed suit, and soon the two, pulling themselves forward on the
+deck by the flats of their hands and the toes of their sneakers, were
+sheltered by a life-jacket box below the lifeboat.
+
+Turning over, Sandy scanned the bottom of the lifeboat, until, with a
+sigh of relief, he saw what he was hoping to see—the screw of a power
+boat protruding from the stern. This was the object of their search!
+
+As he pointed excitedly to the screw, Jerry whispered with puzzlement,
+“Now that we’ve found their power gig, what are we going to do with it?
+It takes four men to launch these things, and even if we could launch
+it, it would make such a noise that we’d have the whole crew on our
+necks before it ever hit the water!”
+
+“I didn’t figure on launching it,” Sandy said. “What I want to do is fix
+it so they won’t be able to follow us in it when we make our getaway on
+the sloop!”
+
+“Smart thinking!” Jerry whispered. “There’s very little danger that they
+can chase us with the freighter itself. In the first place, by the time
+they could turn it around, we’d be out of sight. And if they don’t catch
+up with us out here, they won’t dare come too near the harbor. The water
+there isn’t deep enough for a ship this size and it would be too risky
+for them. But _I_ don’t know too much about engines. How are you going
+to disable this one?”
+
+“I know a few ways,” Sandy answered, “and I’m going to use them all! If
+I just put one thing out of order, they might fix it right away. But,
+with the mess I’m going to make of that engine, it’ll take them a half
+hour or better to get it going. And by then, I hope, we’ll have sailed
+out of sight!”
+
+Working with the greatest of care, the boys unlaced the canvas cover on
+the outboard side of the lifeboat. Standing on the rail of the ship,
+Sandy swung up and slid in beneath the cover, into a pitch-blackness
+that made the night outside seem bright in comparison.
+
+As Jerry joined Sandy, his added weight made the lifeboat lurch to one
+side, and brought a creak from the davits in which the boat was hung. To
+the boys under the canvas, it sounded as loud as a scream! Motionless in
+the dark, they waited for the thud of running feet, the tearing back of
+the boat cover, the glare of flashlights—but none came. The only answer
+to the noise was a thin, tuneless whistle from the deck above them. It
+was Turk’s fellow sailor, keeping watch for his spying friend, and he
+was as afraid of passing noises as the boys were!
+
+Not daring to move, Sandy and Jerry waited for what seemed hours until
+the slight swaying of the lifeboat stopped. As cautiously as they could,
+so as not to start it moving again, they changed their positions in such
+a way as to balance the boat better. At last they were stationed one on
+each side of what Sandy could only hope was the engine compartment.
+
+“How can you work in the dark?” Jerry whispered. “How will you know
+what’s what in there?”
+
+“It shouldn’t be too hard,” Sandy replied. “Almost all engines have a
+lot in common. If I can just get my hands on the engine, I think I’ll
+know what to do.”
+
+Working only by touch, it was not easy to find out how the lid to the
+engine compartment was removed. Slowly moving his hands around the
+surfaces of the box, Sandy found two hook-eyes, which he carefully
+unfastened. On the opposite side of the box, he found two more, which he
+also undid.
+
+“We’re in luck,” he whispered to Jerry. “If this had been a hinged top,
+I don’t think we could have opened it. There isn’t enough headroom below
+this canvas to raise a boxtop this size.”
+
+With the greatest of care, making only the smallest of scraping noises,
+they removed the heavy lid and placed it across two of the lifeboat’s
+seats.
+
+“I’m ready,” Sandy said. “I’m going to be handing you some parts, Jerry.
+I want you to put them in your shirt. We can’t leave them in here, and
+if we threw them overboard, the splash would surely be heard. Just be
+sure they don’t clank around!”
+
+Working noiselessly, Sandy ran his hands over the engine, starting from
+the top of the block. He touched and counted the spark plugs—four of
+them. His own experience with assorted jalopies would come in handy
+here, he thought. Carefully, he slipped the wires off the tops of the
+spark plugs. Following the wires to their source, he came to the
+distributor cap. Two clips held it in place. These were easily removed.
+Following the wire that came from the center of the distributor cap, he
+came to its end at the spark coil. A small pull removed it. Then he
+handed the whole thing, which felt like a mechanical octopus, to Jerry,
+who slipped it into his shirt.
+
+A little more probing brought out two more parts from the distributor,
+both quite small. One was the rotor, the other the condenser. “With any
+one of these things gone,” Sandy whispered, “they won’t be able to run
+this boat!”
+
+“Great!” Jerry breathed. “Now let’s get going!”
+
+“Not yet,” Sandy said. “We still have some more to do. I don’t want to
+make it too easy for them!”
+
+The next thing to go was the fuel pump, as Sandy unscrewed from it the
+glass bowl through which the gasoline had to pass. This was followed by
+a small collection of springs from the choke, the accelerator and the
+carburetor.
+
+“I think that ought to do it,” Sandy said. “Now let’s put this engine
+lid back on, so they can’t tell right away that somebody’s been in
+here!”
+
+It took even more care to replace the lid than it had to take it off. It
+was a tight fit, and really needed a blow on the top to make it fit
+properly on the casing, but this could not be done without making far
+too much noise. Finally, they decided to leave it unhooked, rather than
+run the risk of giving away their presence in the lifeboat.
+
+Getting out and dropping soundlessly to the deck was not easy either,
+especially for Jerry, with the hardware stored in his bulging shirt
+front. Sandy, who had gone first, helped him down, and Jerry landed
+beside him with a muted clinking of metal and hard plastic. The slight
+noise brought no warning whistle from Turk’s lookout.
+
+A glance at the deck below showed them why. Their eyes, grown accustomed
+to complete darkness, were now able to see quite clearly about the
+freighter’s deck. Up forward, near where they had hidden below the
+windlass, stood Jones and the white-uniformed little Captain, together
+with Turk, Bull, and several other sailors.
+
+Apparently the business talk was concluded and, much more to the boys’
+concern, the freighter was making ready to hoist anchor and set off for
+ports unknown!
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER TWELVE
+                            The Race Begins
+
+
+Even as they watched, a working light mounted on the foremast suddenly
+flooded the foredeck with brilliance, bringing the shadowy figures into
+sharp focus, like actors on a brightly lighted stage.
+
+Instinctively, Sandy and Jerry shrank back into the shadow of the
+life-jacket box, until Sandy realized that the bright light on the
+foredeck would make the rest of the ship almost invisible to people in
+its rays.
+
+For a few seconds or more, the boys watched the tableau below them until
+several of the sailors ambled over to the windlass. Then Jerry said,
+“They’re getting ready to hoist the anchor now. We have to move fast if
+we’re going to get to our boat before Jones gets to his!”
+
+Still exercising the greatest care, they re-laced the canvas where they
+had entered the lifeboat, then quietly crept alongside the rails under
+the lifeboats until they came to the ladder connecting the boat deck to
+the afterdeck.
+
+This, fortunately, was both deserted and unlighted, the deck crew having
+all gone forward to work on the windlass. The boys made their way down
+to the point where they had come on board via the rope ladder, which was
+still slung over the side, waiting for Jones’s departure.
+
+Looking over the bulwark, they saw the two sloops below them, bobbing
+gently in the swell that washed against the sheer side of the tall
+freighter. They looked almost unbelievably peaceful, and Sandy thought
+once again about Jones’s comments about the unsuspicious looks of
+sailing craft. Next to their trim, small shapes, the freighter looked
+every bit as sinister as it had actually proved to be!
+
+“This is it,” Sandy whispered. “Let’s make it fast!”
+
+He stepped over the bulwark and disappeared down the rope ladder. Jerry
+was as close behind him as he could get without running the risk of
+stepping on Sandy’s hands. A moment more brought them to the deck of the
+sloop.
+
+“Now comes the hard part,” Jerry whispered. “We’ve got to get our sails
+up and shove off without anyone seeing or hearing us—and it’s not
+exactly a quiet job. In fact, if I remember right, our slides squeak
+pretty badly in their track. I noticed it when we first took it out, and
+made a mental note to oil the track as soon as we got some time.”
+
+“Maybe we’d better not risk it,” Sandy said. “Is there some way we can
+get away from here without having to hoist the sails right away?”
+
+“Well ...” Jerry said, “if there were enough current, we could drift
+off, but I don’t think there is. Besides, it would take a long time, and
+I don’t think we’ve got too much time to waste right now.”
+
+“Suppose we tow it off behind the dinghy?” Sandy asked. “You know, the
+way we brought it out of the harbor for the first day’s sail.”
+
+“Good!” Jerry exclaimed. But it only took a moment’s search to assure
+them that the dinghy was not with them. “Jones must have left it tied to
+his mooring,” Jerry said. “That puts us back where we started.”
+
+“I guess there’s nothing to do but try it with our sails,” Sandy said.
+As he started to move forward, Jerry stopped him with a hand on his
+shoulder.
+
+“Wait a minute! I think I know a way to do this! I remember I was once
+taught about sculling with the rudder. You use it like an oar. I’ve
+never had to try it, but this is probably the best time. C’mon! Let’s
+cast off those lines!”
+
+Working swiftly, Sandy cast off the bow line while Jerry did the same
+with the line at the stern. Then both of them pushed off from the side
+of the freighter, and the little sloop drifted noiselessly away from the
+scarred steel cliff of the huge hull.
+
+The bright light from the foredeck spilled on the waters around the bow
+of the ship, and seemed even to light up the sloop. Sandy only hoped
+that whoever was standing lookout on the freighter was within that
+circle of light. If he was in the darkness of the upper decks, even the
+few dim beams that reflected from the white hull of the little sailboat
+would shine out like a warning beacon against the dark waters!
+
+Sandy worked his way aft over the cabin roof, and dropped into the
+cockpit to join Jerry at the tiller. Jerry was carefully working the
+tiller backward and forward, making small gurgling sounds as the rudder
+swept through the water.
+
+“Here’s the way it works,” he said. “I’m using the rudder like a single
+stern paddle. Lots of boats in the old days used to be run like that. If
+the paddle’s properly shaped, it will do a good job of propelling a
+boat. They call a long stern oar a sweep, and it’s good enough so that
+it’s still used on heavy barges in lots of places around the world.”
+
+“Won’t it just push the stern around from one side to the other?” Sandy
+asked.
+
+“Not if you do it carefully,” Jerry replied. “What I’m doing is this: I
+ease the rudder to one side, slowly, so as not to row with it. Then I
+give it a strong pull toward me—like this—and then I shove it halfway
+back.”
+
+As he spoke, he hauled on the rudder, and the stern of the sloop swung
+around a bit, but the return motion of the rudder stopped the swinging
+action and steadied the sloop on her course. Sandy saw small ripples
+form a wake behind the boat as some forward motion was gained. As Jerry
+repeated the gentling, pulling and returning of the rudder, the sloop
+gained a little more forward speed. Slowly, the rusted sides of the
+black freighter slid by them.
+
+“So far, so good,” Sandy said. “If we keep this up, we’ll be able to get
+away before we’re spotted.”
+
+“I hope so,” Jerry agreed fervently, pulling strongly on his improvised
+sweep. By now the sloop was some thirty feet or more away from the
+freighter, and heading past the overhanging stern of the big ship.
+Suddenly, the stillness of the night was shattered by a roar and clank
+of machinery.
+
+“It’s the windlass!” Jerry cried. “They’re getting ready to haul up the
+anchor! Jones must be ready to go over to his boat!”
+
+Even as he spoke, a flare of work lights came up over the freighter’s
+afterdeck, clearly showing Jones and the Captain standing by the head of
+the rope ladder, flanked by Turk and Bull. The Captain and Jones were
+shaking hands, apparently having concluded a deal on the counterfeit
+cargo that pleased them both. Neither of them had as yet looked over the
+side to see that one of the sloops was missing.
+
+“We can’t chance this any more,” Jerry said. “We’re bound to be
+discovered in another minute, when Jones starts over the ladder! Let’s
+get those sails up now, and do the best we can!”
+
+“You’re right,” Sandy agreed, swiftly leaping atop the cabin roof to
+reach the main halyards. Taking a deep breath, he hauled. With a
+screech, the slides moved stiffly up the track, and the mainsail
+fluttered overhead.
+
+Moving quickly, Sandy grasped the jib halyard and hoisted it aloft while
+Jerry was fastening the main halyard to its cleat. The sloop began to
+make headway in the light breeze. Then, as Sandy joined his friend in
+the cockpit, the sloop sailed clear of the shadows that lay below the
+stern of the freighter, and into the circle of light that surrounded the
+afterdeck. At almost the same instant, a shout rang out from above them.
+
+“Look! It’s the kids!” It was Turk, who, seeing the sail like a luminous
+flag in the water, had sounded the alarm.
+
+“Get down!” Sandy said, pulling Jerry to the deck of the cockpit. His
+action came not a minute too soon for a pistol shot rang out. It was
+followed by a volley of shots, as more of the freighter’s crew got into
+the action, but the boys were unharmed, although two bullets had hit the
+cabin roof and one had plowed a furrow in the deck.
+
+The shooting stopped after a few more stray shots were fired, the sloop
+having by now moved out of effective pistol range. Making the best
+headway they could in the light breeze, Sandy and Jerry looked back with
+satisfaction to see the freighter’s crew working feverishly at the
+davits to get the ship’s power gig into the water.
+
+“If we can just get enough lead time,” Jerry said fervently, “we’ll make
+it to shore well ahead of them!”
+
+“What if Jones follows in his boat?” Sandy asked.
+
+“We’ll worry about that if he does,” Jerry answered. “He’s a good
+sailor, but we have a lead on him. It’ll be our first race, if it
+happens, and I sure hope we win!”
+
+By now the power gig was hanging over the side, its davits having been
+swung into launching position. The canvas cover had been removed, and
+several sailors clambered in, waiting for the boat to be lowered. With a
+creak of blocks and tackle, the lifeboat was swiftly dropped to the
+water. The boys could see someone bending over the engine compartment,
+trying to get the boat started.
+
+“Jones’ll have a long wait, if he wants to go after us in that!” Sandy
+chuckled. “That ship is so sloppy, I’ll bet it will take them an hour
+just to find the parts they need, once they discover what’s wrong!”
+
+But apparently Jones wasn’t going to wait. He had sized up the situation
+quickly—too quickly—and was going over the side and down the rope ladder
+to the other sloop!
+
+“Oh-oh!” Jerry said. “He’s going to try to catch us in the other sloop!
+And we haven’t got more than a few hundred yards on him yet. This is
+going to be some race!”
+
+Some race! Sandy realized once again how different the meaning of speed
+is to a sailor and to a landsman. Here they were, in a gentle breeze on
+a calm sea, preparing to race for their very lives—and they would
+probably not sail faster than he could walk!
+
+Consulting the stars, Jerry set a downwind course, and the boat headed
+slowly but steadily toward the mainland.
+
+“We’d do better on some other point of sail,” Jerry said, “but there’s
+one consolation.”
+
+“What’s that?” Sandy asked.
+
+“He’s got to sail on the same course we take, so he can’t take advantage
+of any more favorable wind than the one we get. That, and the fact that
+the boats are the same, at least puts us on an even footing.”
+
+By now, Jones and a crew member were in the sloop, and were getting the
+sails up. Sandy watched as the mainsail caught the light from the
+freighter, followed almost immediately by the jib. The sloop swung about
+into the trail of light that danced on the water between them and the
+big ship, and set her sails for a downwind tack.
+
+Small waves whispered softly at the bow, and bubbles gurgled quietly in
+the wake. The mainsheet hardly pulled at all in Sandy’s hand as the sail
+caught all the wind there was to catch. Hardly seeming to move at all,
+the sloop glided slowly ahead in the soft night breeze.
+
+And the toughest race they would ever sail was under way!
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER THIRTEEN
+                      A Race of Mistaken Identity
+
+
+“Trim your main!” Jerry said. “Haul back a little ... more ... no, let
+it out a shade ... that’s it! Cleat it down there!”
+
+Sandy followed Jerry’s directions carefully, hauling at the sheet to get
+the sail set to its best position. Like the airplane wing it resembles,
+the sail must be perfectly shaped to get the maximum advantage of the
+wind. Sandy had learned that this was true even on a downwind run, where
+a sail let out too far will spill wind, and a sail sheeted in too close
+will miss too much wind.
+
+Rejoining Jerry on the cockpit seat, Sandy looked aft to catch sight of
+their pursuer. He was surprised to see the amount of water that now
+separated them from the freighter, which seemed a spot of bright light
+far behind them. Against the light he could see the silhouetted shape of
+Jones’s sloop. It seemed to him that they were closer than before, and
+he motioned Jerry to turn and look.
+
+“You’re right,” Jerry said, guessing at the question that had formed in
+Sandy’s mind. “They’re closing in on us, all right. That Jones is sure
+some sailor! We’ll have to do better than this if we’re going to get
+ashore before they sail within pistol range!”
+
+“What can we do?” Sandy asked, his brow wrinkling under the blond
+forelock that hung over his eyes.
+
+“The only thing we can do is put on more sail,” Jerry answered. “That
+won’t be an easy job with just the two of us. And you’ve never handled a
+spinnaker.”
+
+“You’d better give me some fast instruction,” Sandy breathed. “First,
+what’s the spinnaker?”
+
+“It’s a big oversized jib, cut like a parachute,” Jerry replied. “You
+saw a few out in the bay yesterday, remember? It’s that big sail that
+flies out ahead of the boat. You can only use it on downwind sailing,
+unless you’re a lot better sailor than I am, and it’s the best pulling
+power you can have when the wind’s at your back.”
+
+“What do I have to do to help you?” Sandy asked.
+
+“I’ll have to put it up myself,” Jerry told him. “Your job will be to
+hold a steady course and to keep the sails trimmed the way they are
+now.” Sandy grinned. “I won’t look around to see how other boats look
+this time,” he promised. Then he sobered. “I’ll do my best to keep her
+sailing right. What’ll you be doing?”
+
+“I’ll have to drop the jib, which will lose us some speed for a minute.
+Then I’ll hoist the spinnaker, with a pole to the tack—that’s the
+corner—to swing it outboard to where it will catch the wind. Then—but we
+can’t waste time talking about it! I’ll show you now and explain some
+other time!”
+
+Both boys took another look back, but by now the night had swallowed up
+Jones’s sloop, and all they could see was the glow of the freighter,
+growing rapidly smaller and fainter behind them.
+
+“I wonder if Jones has seen that?” Sandy said. “The freighter must be
+under way. They haven’t even waited for him, to see how things turn
+out!”
+
+“I’m not surprised,” Jerry said. “If Jones catches us, they don’t have
+anything to worry about. And if he doesn’t ... they want to be a long
+way away from here!”
+
+Turning their attention back to their own problem, Jerry asked Sandy to
+go below to the cabin’s sail locker and pull out the sail bags, but not
+to light even a match. The odds were that Jones still could not see
+them, and it was better to keep it that way.
+
+“How will I know which is the spinnaker?” Sandy asked.
+
+“We only have two sails below,” Jerry answered. “We’re flying the main
+and genoa jib now. That means that the only bags will have the working
+jib and the spinnaker. The working jib is the small bag, and the
+spinnaker will be as heavy as the mainsail.”
+
+In the cabin of the sloop it was as dark as it had been under the cover
+of the lifeboat. Sandy groped about, searching for the sail locker,
+which was forward of the mast, in the peak of the boat. Finally, after
+tripping a few times, and once bumping his head badly, he felt his hands
+come in contact with the brass catch that secured the locker.
+
+Inside were several sail bags, most of them empty. He came on one that
+contained a sail, but it was obviously the small working jib. Worried
+now, Sandy burrowed deeper into the locker, and at last found a bag that
+seemed heavier than the first. Relieved, he carried it out to the
+cockpit, where Jerry was anxiously looking aft.
+
+“Look! If you look just about four points off our stern, you can see
+her!”
+
+Sandy squinted to where Jerry had pointed, and made out a dim white
+shape through the darkness, surely no more than a few hundred yards
+behind them!
+
+“They’re closing in!” Jerry said. “I’d better rig this thing as fast as
+I can!”
+
+He took the sail bag from Sandy, and crawled forward over the cabin.
+Sandy anxiously handled the tiller, hoping that he was keeping the
+course. Overhead, a few dim stars made points of light, and he leaned
+back to line up the masthead with one of them. In his right hand, the
+mainsheet felt light—too light—and he worried that he had so little
+control over it. What if they were to jibe now, as they had on the first
+day’s sail? What if the sails were not properly trimmed? And how could
+he be sure they were? How long would it take Jones to catch up with
+them? Taking his eyes for a minute from the star and the masthead, he
+saw Jerry kneeling on deck, doing something with the sail. Then he
+looked back to the masthead, and fixed all his attention on keeping the
+boat on a steady course.
+
+Suddenly, Jerry was back in the cockpit with him, and the sail bag,
+still full, was dropped on the deck at his feet.
+
+“What’s wrong?” he asked.
+
+“Sandy, was that the only heavy bag there was?” Jerry asked.
+
+“That’s right. The only other bag was so light it must have been the
+jib. What’s the matter?”
+
+Jerry shook his head slowly. “We’re in real trouble now,” he answered.
+“That’s not a spinnaker at all. It’s a spare genoa!”
+
+“But—but I saw the bag marked spinnaker the other day!” Sandy
+spluttered. “Why would Uncle Russ put a spare genoa in a bag marked for
+a spinnaker?”
+
+“He wouldn’t,” Jerry answered. “And what’s more, he didn’t. I was able
+to make out the letters on the bag, and they said ‘genoa.’ Brace
+yourself for a shock, buddy. I _know_ we had a spinnaker aboard. And I
+know we didn’t have two jennies!”
+
+“Do you mean we’ve done it again?” Sandy gasped.
+
+“That’s right,” Jerry said sadly. “We goofed again, and took Jones’s
+boat instead of yours!”
+
+There was nothing to say. They turned in silence to look aft at the dim
+white shape that followed them through the night, and that slowly ate
+away at the distance that kept them apart.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER FOURTEEN
+                           Slow-Motion Chase
+
+
+“What can we do now?” Sandy asked.
+
+“Just what we’re doing,” Jerry answered mournfully. “Just sail the best
+we can and hope that he won’t close in on us before we come across some
+other boat.”
+
+“Maybe Jones won’t find our spinnaker,” Sandy suggested. “If he thinks
+he’s on his own boat, he knows he hasn’t got a spinnaker below, and
+maybe he won’t see any reason to go poking around in our sail locker.”
+
+“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Jerry said. “We can make a mistake like this—and
+make it twice—because neither of us is really familiar with your boat.
+But a good sailor like Jones knows his own boat the way he knows his own
+living room. He isn’t going to be fooled the same way we were!”
+
+“Still,” Sandy reasoned, “that’s no guarantee he’s going to go to our
+sail locker, is it?”
+
+“It’s almost a sure bet,” Jerry replied. “He’s probably got Turk looking
+around now to see what kind of extra canvas we might have on board, and
+when he finds that spinnaker, we can kiss our chances goodbye!”
+
+“Well, he hasn’t found it yet,” Sandy said stubbornly. “And until he
+does, there must be something we can do to get more speed out of this
+boat!”
+
+Stirring out of his gloom, Jerry trimmed the mainsheet and then the jib.
+Then suddenly he brightened. “Say! I remember reading about one trick
+that might help us. It’s called wing-and-winging. What you do is rig the
+jib on the opposite side from the mainsail when you’ve got the wind at
+your back. It’s supposed to act almost like a spinnaker.”
+
+“Well, let’s do it!” Sandy said. “What do you want me to do?”
+
+“You just hold the course, like before,” Jerry explained. “I’ll go
+forward and re-rig. When I tell you to, you uncleat the jenny sheet, and
+I’ll swing the sail around on the other side and brace it out. I’ll use
+the boat hook for a whisker pole to hold it in place. Maybe this’ll turn
+the trick!”
+
+He clambered forward, and once more Sandy was left alone with the
+tiller, the star and the masthead. For a few minutes he thought only of
+holding the course, until he heard Jerry’s voice, “Now!”
+
+Leaning forward, Sandy uncleated the sheet which held the genoa jib in
+trim, where it had flown almost useless before the mainsail. He watched
+eagerly as Jerry hauled the sail around to the windward side, lashed the
+boat hook to the clew and swung the big triangle outboard. Almost
+instantly, the jenny started to fill, and Sandy felt the little sloop
+start forward.
+
+Jerry quickly leaped into the cockpit and secured the sheet, trimming
+the billowing sail. “It’s working!” he panted. “This may just turn the
+trick!”
+
+They listened in satisfaction to the increased sound of the waves
+slipping past the sloop’s sides and muttering in the wake. They could
+actually feel the difference in the motion of the boat.
+
+“Jones has probably had his jib winged out all this time,” Jerry said.
+“That’s why he’s been closing in on us so fast. Maybe this will keep the
+distance the way it is until we can get ashore or get help!”
+
+“I sure hope so!” Sandy agreed.
+
+“Just hope he doesn’t find that spinnaker! As long as we’re both flying
+the same sail area, and as long as we’re both heading downwind, there’s
+not much he can do to catch us. Running before the wind this way, equal
+boats with equal canvas flown in the same way will come out just about
+the same. It’s on a reach, or beating against the wind that expert sail
+handling really makes the difference. And I’m sure glad we’re not on
+some other point of sail, because Jones would outsail us every time!”
+
+With that thought to cheer them, the boys sailed in silence. Above them,
+clouds occasionally blotted out the stars of the dark moonless night,
+and it was hard to set a course by any one of them. At the helm, Jerry
+steered as much by the feel of the wind on his back as by the stars he
+could see.
+
+Behind them always, never drawing any nearer, but never falling astern,
+was the white blur of Jones’s canvas. It was as if the two boats were
+tied together with a fixed length of cable or a rigid bar that would not
+allow the gap between them to change.
+
+The race went slowly. It was like a chase in some fantastic dream, Sandy
+thought, a dream where he was running in slow motion, trying with every
+ounce of strength to make his legs go faster.
+
+But there was a difference, for here there was no exertion, no strain,
+except on the nerves. Here all was, to a casual glance, peaceful and
+pleasant. If any boat were to pass, all its passengers would see would
+be two pretty sloops, out for a night-time sail.
+
+Suppose another boat did come? How would they know? Then Sandy
+remembered the flare pistol. He had put it on the seat when they had
+come aboard! Maybe the bulky brass gun would come in handy again! He
+searched the night for some sign of a boat’s running lights, but saw
+only the same black sea and sky on all sides. Still, perhaps nearer
+shore....
+
+The nightmarish quality of the race increased as each moment wore on. It
+seemed to Sandy that he was doomed to sail on forever, like the
+legendary Flying Dutchman, never getting to shore, never getting within
+hailing distance of another boat.
+
+He strained his eyes against the darkness ahead, and then turned to look
+astern at the following shape of Jones’s boat, stubbornly staying with
+them at the same fixed distance. He almost wished that Jones would in
+some way catch up, just to break the tension. Maybe in a fight, there
+would be a chance! At least, they wouldn’t just be sitting and waiting.
+
+As he watched, something on the pursuing sloop seemed to change. A
+shimmer of white sails, then nothing.
+
+“Jerry!” Sandy whispered, gripping his friend’s arm. “Look back there! I
+thought I saw something change in his sails. I couldn’t tell for sure,
+but doesn’t it seem to you that the shape is different now?”
+
+Jerry squinted back at Jones’s boat. “I think you’re right,” he said.
+“It looks as if he’s changed his sail trim some way. I wonder what he’s
+got up his sleeve this time?”
+
+“Do you think he’s found our spinnaker?” Sandy asked.
+
+As if in answer, the white shape behind them altered once more. A new
+piece was added to it—a long, flapping shape. As they watched,
+fascinated and fearful, but unable to do a thing, the long white
+triangle billowed out, changed into a full, taut shape and lifted high
+above the deck of Jones’s boat.
+
+“So that’s a spinnaker,” Sandy said.
+
+“It sure is,” Jerry answered grimly. “Take a good look at it, because it
+may turn out to be the last one we’ll ever see!”
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER FIFTEEN
+                          Turn and Turn Again
+
+
+As Jones’s spinnaker filled and lofted, a fresh breeze came up from
+astern, tugged at the rigging, tightened the sails and sent the boys’
+sloop ahead at a sharper pace.
+
+“Feel the breeze!” Sandy said. “Maybe that’ll help us out of trouble!”
+
+“I wouldn’t bet on it,” Jerry replied. “The same breeze is helping
+Jones, and he’s got an awful big sail up to catch it!”
+
+“Even so, Jerry,” Sandy objected, “I seem to remember you saying
+something that ought to give us a chance now....”
+
+“If you do, you’d better let me know,” Jerry said, “because I sure don’t
+feel very full of ideas now.”
+
+Sandy wrinkled his brow and strained at his memory. There seemed to be
+some fact, some idea half remembered from all Jerry had told him, that
+ought to help. He looked astern, and the sight of Jones’s sloop bearing
+down on them and swiftly closing the gap between the two racing boats,
+seemed to have just the stimulating effect he was looking for.
+
+“I know!” he almost shouted. “Didn’t you say that we can do better on a
+reach than a boat with a spinnaker can do downwind?”
+
+“That’s right,” Jerry said doubtfully. “But we have to sail a downwind
+course to get to shore.”
+
+“Well, what’s your hurry?” Sandy asked. “Why don’t we put off going
+ashore just now? I mean, if we take off on a reach, maybe we can lose
+Jones in the dark before he can change sails to follow us. If we can
+just put some distance between us, we can head back for shore later!”
+
+Jerry clapped Sandy on the shoulder and shouted, “You’re right!” Then he
+looked back at Jones’s boat, clear in shape, but not in detail. “I wish
+I could see how he has his spinnaker sheeted, but I can’t make it out.
+Still, let’s just take a chance.” He looked at Sandy in admiration.
+“Boy, you’re sure catching on fast! That was a real racing sailor’s
+idea!”
+
+Carefully selecting the best course to give their boat the most speed
+and to lose the least time in putting about, Jerry instructed Sandy.
+
+“We’re going to jibe,” he said, “but don’t worry. This is going to be
+deliberate, not accidental. It’s the accidental jibes that wreck the
+rigging. We’re going to put about this way so’s not to waste time
+shifting the genoa jib to the other side. As soon as I’ve got that
+whisker pole ready to come off, we’ll do it.”
+
+He went forward, and after a moment’s work, quickly returned to the
+cockpit. “Ready now,” Jerry said. “I’ll take the tiller and you take the
+mainsheet. As I start to put about, you haul in on the sheet, until the
+boom is right over the keel of the boat. Then I’ll put her hard over,
+and you let the sail out evenly on the other side until I say stop. Got
+it?”
+
+Sandy wasn’t sure, but he figured that this was no time for more
+detailed instruction on the art of the deliberate jibe. Holding the
+mainsheet, and his breath, he silently hoped that he knew what he was
+doing. One mistake now—the wrong kind of jibe, that could wreck the
+rigging—would surely put them back in Jones’s hands.
+
+He watched Jerry carefully, and, following his instructions, started to
+haul in on the mainsheet. It came very lightly and easily. Remembering
+the terrific force of the jibe on the first day’s sailing, though, Sandy
+knew enough not to be fooled by appearances. He shortened the sheet so
+that he would not be taken unawares when the wind caught the mainsail on
+its new tack.
+
+A few seconds of hauling and shortening brought the mainsail directly
+over the center of the boat, with the sheet securing it tightly against
+the dangerous sudden jibe. Then, as Jerry brought the sloop about hard
+on her new course, the wind took the sail. The boat heeled far over,
+leaning its lee side into the waves through which they were cutting with
+a new speed.
+
+Sandy held hard to the sheet, the pull of which was almost cutting his
+hand. The load of wind in the taut sail transmitted its strength to the
+sheet, and became a hauling, tug-of-war enemy.
+
+“Let her out!” Jerry shouted. “More! More! Okay ... hold her there!”
+Sandy felt some of the pull lessen as he allowed the sail to swing
+farther out over the side. “Good,” Jerry said. “Now take the tiller—hold
+everything as it is—while I free the jenny and trim it properly.”
+
+Sandy, the mainsheet wound tightly about his right hand, took the tiller
+in his left, while Jerry went forward to do his job. He was burning with
+eagerness to look back to see how their maneuver had affected Jones, but
+he didn’t dare. He had too much to think about to take his eyes away
+even for a second from his own work of sailing. This was the first time
+he had handled both the tiller and mainsheet and it was really the first
+time he had actually handled the boat. There was a new sense of command
+now and of real control. The feel of the boat was complete. It almost
+seemed alive. His hands told him how a change of rudder position worked
+a change on the sail, or how a shift of the mainsail, a few inches in or
+out, affected the pull on the helm.
+
+In a few minutes, Jerry was back in the cockpit, trimming the genoa
+sheet and setting the sail in its best shape ahead of and overlapping
+the mainsail. When all was made fast, he took the tiller from Sandy once
+more, and the boys were at last free to look back.
+
+What they saw was not encouraging. As they had expected, the change of
+course had increased the distance between them and Jones, but the
+distance was not great enough to take them out of sight. A few minutes
+of looking revealed that they were not likely to outdistance Jones on
+this tack any more than they had on the downwind run.
+
+“How come we can’t beat him?” Sandy asked. “He surely hasn’t had time to
+get his spinnaker down and his genoa up, has he?”
+
+“He didn’t have to,” Jerry answered. “He’s using his spinnaker now as if
+it were a genoa. It’s a good stunt. What he did was to bring the
+spinnaker pole forward and lash it to the deck, so that it made a kind
+of bowsprit. Then he sheeted the sail flat. It makes a powerful sail
+that way.”
+
+“What if he wants to go on the opposite tack?” Sandy asked. “How can he
+put about?”
+
+Jerry grinned. “I think you’ve done it again, Skipper,” he said. “That’s
+the best question you’ve asked all night!”
+
+“What do you mean?” Sandy asked, puzzled.
+
+“I mean that he can’t put about on the other tack without an awful lot
+of trouble. We can, and we will, and with luck we’ll lose him that way!”
+
+This time the maneuver was a familiar one of bringing the sloop up into
+the wind, shifting the genoa jib and coming off the wind to the new
+tack. It was performed smoothly, both boys working like an experienced
+crew.
+
+On the new tack, they looked about once more for Jones’s following
+sloop. As they had hoped, the strange zigzag they had described had left
+him far astern, but still in sight. Even as they watched, they saw Jones
+drop his spinnaker and re-rig it on the new tack. Once more, he was in
+pursuit!
+
+“I’ve never seen anyone handle sails that well,” Jerry said in unwilling
+admiration.
+
+“Do you think we can outmaneuver him?” Sandy asked.
+
+“Well, we might keep up the sort of thing we’ve been doing,” Jerry
+answered. “If we keep changing tacks, we can probably keep him out of
+close shooting range all night. Then, by morning, we can hope to see
+some other boats and maybe get help. There’s only one thing wrong with
+that plan, though.”
+
+“I know,” Sandy offered. “We’re all right as long as we don’t make any
+mistakes. But the minute we goof on one maneuver, we lose the race!
+Right?”
+
+“Right,” Jerry said. “Still, I don’t see what else we can do but try. We
+haven’t got much choice.” As they sailed on in silence, Sandy reviewed
+their situation. The trouble with their plan was a simple one. They had
+to do a perfect job of sailing, and he doubted whether they were up to
+it. All Jones had to do was follow their maneuvers, and when they made
+their first mistake, he would close in. There was no hope, he could see,
+in waiting for Jones to make the first mistake himself. The man was too
+good for that.
+
+If only they could find some new way to take the initiative, things
+might work out, Sandy thought. This cat-and-mouse game couldn’t possibly
+do any good. Besides, even if they could hold out till day-light, there
+was no guarantee that they would get help from any other boat before
+Jones could finish the job. After all, lack of light was all that was
+preventing Jones from firing at them now. When morning came, it would
+most likely be accompanied by a hail of shots!
+
+The more Sandy thought, the less it seemed that they could find a way
+out of their desperate straits. Then his gloomy thoughts were
+interrupted by Jerry.
+
+“Got any more ideas?” he asked. “I know it’s my turn to think up a good
+one, but I can’t seem to come up with a thing.”
+
+“I don’t know,” Sandy answered. “It seems to me though, that we’re going
+to have to do something really different now if we’re going to get back
+to shore in one piece!”
+
+Then he suddenly sat up straighter, pushing back his blond forelock.
+“Jerry! I think I have an idea!”
+
+“What is it?” Jerry asked eagerly.
+
+“It may sound crazy, but I want to go back on a downwind course again!”
+
+Jerry looked puzzled. “A downwind course? Sandy, we don’t have a chance
+that way! That’s the way we were sailing when Jones first started after
+us, and with his spinnaker in place, he’ll have us in no time!”
+
+“I know,” Sandy said, “but I have an idea that might work this time. I
+want Jones to get close—real close—to try this!”
+
+Jerry shook his head. “It sounds nutty to me,” he said, “but if you
+think you’ve got something that’ll work, I’m game. Just tell me
+what....”
+
+“Not now, Jerry,” Sandy cut him off. “Let’s just change course while I
+work out the details. If we don’t do this now, I might lose my nerve!”
+
+“I’ll do it,” Jerry agreed, shaking his head doubtfully from side to
+side. “But what worries me isn’t that you might lose your nerve. I’m
+afraid that you’ve already lost your mind!”
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER SIXTEEN
+                          The End of the Race
+
+
+It was still pitch-dark on the Pacific, miles off Cliffport, but Sandy
+saw a dim, gray smear of light in the east that told him dawn was not
+too far off. Dawn—and the shots it would bring from Jones and Turk!
+
+If his plan didn’t work now, it would never work, he knew. This was to
+be really a one-shot try! But better to try, he felt, than to tack
+aimlessly back and forth, waiting for Jones to close in.
+
+Almost mechanically, Sandy helped Jerry put the sloop about on her new
+course before the wind. Once again the genoa jib was held out
+wing-and-wing with the boat hook, and once again the mainsheet exercised
+only a light pull in his hand. With everything set, Sandy and Jerry
+turned their attention to the sloop behind them.
+
+The pursuing white sails shone dimly through the darkness as Jones
+followed them in their course. His spinnaker, released from its duty as
+a genoa, was once more flying full and round before him, taking
+advantage of every puff of wind at his back. It was a foregone
+conclusion that he would catch them now, unless they were even faster
+than before in putting about on some new tack.
+
+Jerry could not stand the suspense a moment longer. “Sandy, what are you
+going to do?” he cried. “Whatever it is, if we don’t do it now, we’re
+goners!”
+
+“Not yet,” Sandy muttered. “He’s got to get closer!”
+
+“If he gets any closer, he’s going to start shooting,” Jerry replied.
+“What do we do then?”
+
+“We’ve got to be ready for it,” Sandy answered. “I expect him to shoot,
+and I expect him to start pretty soon. In fact, we’d better get down as
+far as possible right now!”
+
+Both boys sat together on the cockpit deck, Jerry awkwardly steering and
+Sandy holding the mainsheet in his left hand. “You steer, Jerry,” he
+said. “I’m going to turn around so I can keep an eye on Jones. I expect
+the fireworks to start any minute now!”
+
+“I can do without the entertainment,” Jerry said. Then he added once
+more, “Boy, I sure hope you know what you’re doing! If you don’t....”
+His voice trailed off.
+
+Half kneeling, Sandy crouched by the stern seat, keeping as much under
+cover as possible. Over the edge of the afterdeck he saw Jones’s sloop,
+closer now than it had been ever since their fantastic race had begun.
+For some reason, Jones was holding back, not closing in as fast as he
+had been before. Sandy knew that he must be puzzled, and trying to
+figure out what their next move would be. His success depended on
+outthinking them as much as it did on outsailing them, and his skill lay
+largely in his ability to guess what maneuver the boys were going to try
+next. This time, Sandy thought, he must really be baffled. No one in his
+right mind would try to escape as they were doing!
+
+For minutes that seemed like hours, the chase continued with Jones
+making no effort to advance. Then, Sandy realized, Jones made up his
+mind to attack. His sails were trimmed fuller, his spinnaker lofted
+higher, and a white bow wave broke out to signify Jones’s new speed.
+There wasn’t much time left now before things would start popping!
+
+By now, less than one hundred yards separated the two boats. Not much
+more distance, Sandy thought, than a target range. Still, it wasn’t
+quite close enough....
+
+A shot! As they heard the crack of the pistol, the whine of the bullet
+passed overhead! Another shot—another—and a piece of the coaming
+splintered off uncomfortably close to Sandy’s ear!
+
+Jones’s boat surged on, preceded by a rain of shots. Now less than fifty
+yards of water were between them! More shots followed, mostly going
+through the sails. With a _thunk_, one hit the hull—another gouged up
+the deck—a third hit the tiller, not six inches from Jerry’s hand.
+
+Jerry’s face looked white as he craned his neck to look up at his
+friend. “Whatever you’re planning, I wish you’d tell me now,” he said.
+“Because I may not be around to see the big moment when it comes!”
+
+“You’ll be here,” Sandy said, “because the big moment is now! Turn
+around with me and watch Jones’s boat. If this works, it’s going to be
+something worth watching!”
+
+As Jerry changed his position, he saw for the first time that Sandy had
+the big brass flare gun in his hand! He was cocking it carefully, and
+keeping an eye on Jones’s sloop which seemed to be almost ready to ram
+them. Lying flat on the foredeck of the pursuing boat, they could
+clearly see the figure of Turk, hurriedly reloading his pistol.
+
+“You’re not going to try to shoot him with that?” Jerry said. “Those
+things are way too inaccurate! You won’t stand a chance!”
+
+“Not him,” Sandy said. “It!” He steadied the flare gun on the edge of
+the afterdeck and squinted down its length, aiming at the spinnaker!
+
+Seeing now what Sandy was attempting, Jerry crouched beside him and held
+his breath. Sandy waited till almost the last possible minute until,
+just as Turk was raising his pistol to fire once more, he released the
+flare.
+
+A dazzling arc of fire leaped from the brass muzzle straight for the
+bellying spinnaker! It landed in a shower of sparks, bright enough to
+show them Turk’s astonished face turned upward to see what had hit them.
+The shot had hit squarely in the center of the ballooning sail, burning
+a small, red-ringed hole which slowly spread.
+
+Would this be all? Just a spreading ring of coals that would die in a
+minute or two? If this was all, it was not enough! Then, just as Sandy
+was beginning to fear that he had made a mistake that might well cost
+them everything, the sail burst into flame!
+
+The column of fire shot straight upward into the blackness of the night,
+vividly illuminating both boats. In its brilliant light, the boys saw
+Turk stand up, black against the flames, then leap overboard.
+
+“One down!” Sandy said. “But what about Jones?”
+
+As the flaming spinnaker spread its fire to the mainsail and the mast,
+they saw Jones rise in the cockpit, level his rifle and shoot. Six shots
+rang out in quick succession, and all six whizzed harmlessly by. Then
+Jones flung his empty gun into the sea and turned his attention to the
+fire.
+
+Jerry and Sandy sailed slowly away from the flaming scene, and then
+started to sail in a circle around it, still watching Jones. He had
+gotten a bucket from below, and was throwing sea water, as fast as he
+could scoop it up, over the burning and the unburned parts of the sloop.
+The fire was gaining though, and his efforts were obviously doomed to
+failure.
+
+“If he hadn’t been so busy shooting when the fire started,” Jerry said,
+“he would have stood a good chance of putting it out. The delay is going
+to sink him!”
+
+Jones worked feverishly until the last possible moment, until the decks
+and the cabin were aflame, and the fire had spread to the little
+cockpit. Finally, when it was obvious that there was no more he could
+do, he kicked off his shoes and jumped over the side.
+
+“What do we do now?” Sandy asked. “We can’t just leave them there to
+drown. They probably deserve it, but I don’t think it’s up to us to
+judge what kind of sentence they get.”
+
+“You’re right,” Jerry agreed. “But if we take them aboard, we won’t
+stand much of a chance against them. Why don’t we try to find them and
+toss them a couple of life jackets so they can stay afloat while we make
+up our minds?”
+
+It was no trouble to find Turk, who came swimming up to the side to beg
+to be taken aboard. Sandy kept the empty flare pistol aimed at him while
+Jerry looked for the life jackets. When he had found them, he tossed one
+over the side, and Turk struggled into it. Then, still frightened of the
+flare gun which he did not know was empty, he held up his hands tamely
+to allow Jerry to tie them together.
+
+“Now will ya lemme come on board?” he pleaded.
+
+“I don’t think so,” Sandy answered. “I think you’ll be safer at the end
+of a long line. Just relax, and we’ll tow you back to shore!”
+
+With Turk in tow, the sloop handled rather sluggishly as the boys
+circled the scene of the fire searching for Jones. The bright light of
+the flames had died to a glowing, dull orange which was soon to go out
+altogether as the sloop settled lower and lower in the water.
+
+“What we need is a searchlight,” Jerry said. “We may never find him
+unless he swims to us the way Turk did!”
+
+“Listen!” Sandy said. “If I’m not mistaken, I hear a searchlight coming
+now!”
+
+Turning in the direction of the new sound of powerful marine motors,
+they were met with a bright searchlight beam, which swept from them to
+the burning sloop and back again. For the first time since their
+adventure had started, Sandy felt a genuine feeling of relief, as the
+Coast Guard cutter reversed its engines and came to a neat stop
+alongside.
+
+
+
+
+                           CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
+                           Another Discovery
+
+
+With the arrival of the Coast Guard, the problem of finding Jones solved
+itself. He quickly realized the hopelessness of his position and swam in
+from the darkness toward the cutter and the sloop, tamely giving himself
+up.
+
+It was only after he and Turk had both been taken on board the Coast
+Guard vessel and placed under guard that the captain of the cutter,
+Lieutenant Ames, started to ask the necessary questions.
+
+He listened, absorbed in the story, until Sandy had finished talking.
+Then he sighed. “That’s quite a yarn, boys. It sounds pretty wild. For
+your sakes, I hope that you can show some evidence to back it up.
+Otherwise, all we have is your word. Now, your word may be good enough
+for me—” he held up a hand to forestall Sandy’s objections—“but it’s
+going to take more than that to make a charge of counterfeiting stick in
+a court of law.”
+
+“We’ve _got_ more than that!” Sandy said angrily. “We can show you the
+island, and unless I miss my guess, we’ll find Jones’s counterfeiting
+presses there!”
+
+“I hope so,” Lieutenant Ames said. “Meanwhile, since you’ve made charges
+against these men, I’ll hold them in custody until we get ashore. Then
+I’ll turn them and the whole case over to the FBI, where it belongs.”
+
+His official statement done, Lieutenant Ames relaxed into a boyish grin.
+“You can get those scowls off your faces now,” he said. “I just wanted
+you to realize that we’ve got to have good, solid proof before this
+business is over with. As for me, I believe your story, and I think the
+FBI will, too.”
+
+“I’m not too worried about proving our story about Jones and Turk,”
+Sandy said. “But what worries me is how we’re going to get the
+freighter, now that it’s out of U.S. coastal waters.”
+
+“The Navy will take care of them,” Lieutenant Ames said. “But that
+reminds me, you didn’t tell me the name of the freighter, and we’ll need
+to radio that to the Navy right away.”
+
+“I noticed the name on the lifeboat,” Jerry said. “It was the _Mary N.
+Smith_, from Weymouth.”
+
+“No!” Sandy said. “You must have gotten it mixed up in the darkness. I
+saw it clear as day on the stern. It was the _Martin South_ from
+Yarmouth!”
+
+“I’m sure I had it right,” Jerry said. “I remember thinking to myself
+that it was a pretty innocent, girlish name for such a dirty freighter!”
+
+“Maybe you’re both right,” Lieutenant Ames said. “It sounds to me as if
+both names have a lot in common. They probably have a set of phony
+papers under each name—and maybe under three or four more names that
+sound a lot like those. That way, all they have to do is paint out and
+change a few letters after each port, instead of having the whole job to
+do. It allows them to make quick shifts of identity.”
+
+“It also lets them explain that they were picked up because of an
+accidental similarity of names, in case of trouble,” Jerry put in. “I
+wonder what name they’re using now,” he added.
+
+“That’s pretty easy to guess,” the Coast Guard officer said. “If I were
+changing names after leaving a port, I’d paint the bow and stern while I
+was at anchor, and leave the lifeboats and other things for when I was
+at sea. My guess is that we’ll find them sailing as the _Martin South_
+from Yarmouth.”
+
+“Unless,” Sandy added, “unless they decided to change it to something
+else while at sea, after the trouble. After all, they have no idea
+whether Jones got us or we got him, and they’ll probably be expecting to
+get picked up.”
+
+“Well, we won’t take any chances,” Ames said. “I’ll radio the Navy now
+to be on the lookout for any freighter with a name anything like _Martin
+South_ or _Mary N. Smith_. And if I know those boys, we’ll have a report
+on them within the next few hours!”
+
+After giving his instructions to the radio operator, Ames decided it was
+time to head for shore and turn over Jones, Turk and the boys to the
+FBI. It was decided to take the sloop in tow behind the cutter, and
+Sandy went over the side to find a towing line to hand up to the
+cutter’s deck.
+
+“Come on over with me,” Sandy said, “and I’ll show you some of the
+bullet holes we’re carrying. They ought to help support our story!”
+
+Lieutenant Ames followed Sandy over the side and joined him on the deck
+of the little sloop, where he examined the holes in the sail and the
+furrows in the deck and the coamings. “They sure came close!” he said.
+“You’re pretty lucky to be here in one piece now.” He ran his finger
+thoughtfully along a deep scar in the coaming near where Sandy’s head
+had been, and whistled low when he saw the splintered spot on the
+tiller.
+
+Lieutenant Ames followed Sandy below in search of the spare mooring
+line. (The original one had been left dangling from the deck of the
+freighter.) He stood stooped over in the low cabin, surveying the trim
+accommodations. At last, Sandy found a line that would do, stowed away
+up forward with the anchor.
+
+Joining Ames in the cabin, he pointed to the locker above the compact
+galley. “There’s where we found the money when we went looking for the
+canned food,” he said. “It was filled up all the way to here,” he
+indicated, sliding back the locker door.
+
+“What do you mean, _was_?” the Coast Guard officer asked with a gasp.
+The open locker door revealed the stacked counterfeit, untouched, just
+as the boys had first seen it!
+
+“Whew!” Sandy sighed. “Well, I guess _that_ takes care of our case
+against Jones!”
+
+As they towed the sloop back to Cliffport, heading into the bright
+colors of a Pacific sunrise, they pieced together what must have
+happened.
+
+“From what we overheard on the freighter,” Sandy said, “Jones and the
+freighter captain were both dissatisfied with the original deal they had
+made for the counterfeit money. Jones wanted more for the stuff, because
+of the risk he had run with us and because of the added chances he was
+taking if we disappeared from Cliffport. A local investigation of our
+disappearance might turn up someone who had seen us near his island.”
+
+“Right,” Jerry added. “And the Captain wanted a larger share than usual
+for himself because of the risk he was running in getting rid of us for
+Jones. They bargained about it for a long time.”
+
+Lieutenant Ames nodded. “And Jones wasn’t taking any chances by bringing
+the money on board until his deal had been settled. He must have been
+going for it when you saw him and the Captain shaking hands on deck. And
+the reason he was so desperate when he saw you sailing off was that he
+knew you were not only escaping, but escaping with the evidence!”
+
+“I guess it’s not always a bad thing,” Sandy laughed, “to make the same
+mistake twice!”
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
+                             Homeward Bound
+
+
+Three days later, the case ended where it had really begun—back in the
+Cliffport Boat Yard. Only this time, Sandy and Jerry picked their way
+over the timbers and rails with Lieutenant Ames instead of with Sandy’s
+Uncle Russ.
+
+“I guess you boys are glad this is all over,” he said. “I suppose you’re
+all set for your trip home now?”
+
+“We sure are,” Jerry said. “We just need to buy a few things, and we’re
+ready.”
+
+“It was sure nice of the FBI to let us have Jones’s sloop as part of the
+reward,” Sandy added. “I felt pretty bad when I saw my boat on fire. I
+was sure that if we ever got back to shore, we’d be taking the train
+home!”
+
+“There was no sense in keeping it,” Ames said. “Not even for evidence.
+We had all the evidence we needed with that bundle of counterfeit
+money—and even more than that, with the printing press and the plates we
+found at Jones’s little resort. And everyone agreed that you ought to
+have it.”
+
+They walked along the sea wall until they reached the corner of the
+shed, where Lieutenant Ames suddenly stopped. “As long as you’re
+thanking the FBI for the boat,” he said, “I think you might as well
+thank the Coast Guard too!”
+
+“Well, of course,” Sandy said, puzzled. “I only meant that it was the
+FBI who really had title to it, and they were the ones who decided.... I
+mean, we’re grateful to you all.”
+
+Ames laughed. “I don’t want to keep you in the dark,” he said. “The FBI
+gave you the boat, all right, but we decided to pitch in a little, too.
+Look!”
+
+They turned the corner of the boat-yard shed. In front of them, resting
+in a high cradle, was the sloop, freshly painted and gleaming in the
+sun, her sides as smooth as glass.
+
+After both boys had thanked Lieutenant Ames profusely, Jerry asked, “How
+did you ever get so much done in just three days?”
+
+“Oh, that’s the Coast Guard way with boats,” Ames said and he laughed.
+“A whole gang of the boys decided to go to work on her, and we did in
+three days what would take most boat yards a week or two. It started
+when we decided to fix up the bullet scars, and it just didn’t stop
+until we had finished the whole thing!”
+
+Climbing to the deck, they inspected the newly painted cabin and
+cockpit, the freshly varnished coamings and mast, the almost invisible
+repairs on the decks.
+
+“We’ll have her launched within the next hour,” Lieutenant Ames said.
+“Why don’t you go into town to buy whatever you need in the meanwhile?
+It shouldn’t take you too long to get stores for a short trip.”
+
+“That’s a good idea,” Sandy said. “But we’re going to need more than the
+regular stores. I’m going to spend some of that reward money right away
+on a new spinnaker. That’s one thing I’ve decided never to be without
+again!”
+
+“Not only that,” Jerry added, “but we want to get some more shells for
+the flare pistol. I don’t think I’ll ever feel comfortable without that
+on board!”
+
+“There’s something else, too,” Sandy said. “I think we ought to think up
+a name for this boat right away, and pick up some brass letters for the
+stern. I don’t want to keep on making mistakes!”
+
+Ames joined in the laughter, then said, “That’s one thing I think you
+don’t have to do. That is, unless you don’t like the name the Coast
+Guard picked out for you!”
+
+Rushing to the stern, Sandy and Jerry leaned over to see the shiny brass
+letters screwed to the counter of their sloop. Looked at upside down,
+they spelled:
+
+                                 REWARD
+
+
+                        SANDY STEELE ADVENTURES
+
+                           1. BLACK TREASURE
+
+Sandy Steele and Quiz spend an action-filled summer in the oil fields of
+the Southwest. In their search for oil and uranium, they unmask a
+dangerous masquerader.
+
+                      2. DANGER AT MORMON CROSSING
+
+On a hunting trip in the Lost River section of Idaho, Sandy and Mike
+ride the rapids, bag a mountain lion, and stumble onto the answer to a
+hundred-year-old mystery.
+
+                            3. STORMY VOYAGE
+
+Sandy and Jerry James ship as deck hands on one of the “long boats” of
+the Great Lakes. They are plunged into a series of adventures and find
+themselves involved in a treacherous plot.
+
+                          4. FIRE AT RED LAKE
+
+Sandy and his friends pitch in to fight a forest fire in Minnesota. Only
+they and Sandy’s uncle know that there is an unexploded A-bomb in the
+area to add to the danger.
+
+                      5. SECRET MISSION TO ALASKA
+
+A pleasant Christmas trip turns into a startling adventure. Sandy and
+Jerry participate in a perilous dog-sled race, encounter a wounded bear,
+and are taken as hostages by a ruthless enemy.
+
+                           6. TROUBLED WATERS
+
+When Sandy and Jerry mistakenly sail off in a stranger’s sloop instead
+of their own, they land in a sea of trouble. Their attempts to
+outmaneuver a desperate crew are intertwined with fascinating sailing
+lore.
+
+PUBLISHED BY SIMON AND SCHUSTER
+
+
+
+
+      *      *      *      *      *      *
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber’s note:
+
+--Copyright notice provided as in the original—this e-text is public
+  domain in the country of publication.
+
+--Silently corrected apparent typographical errors; left non-standard
+  spellings and dialect unchanged.
+
+--In the original, the last word in the text was printed upside down.
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TROUBLED WATERS***
+
+
+******* This file should be named 50353-0.txt or 50353-0.zip *******
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+<body>
+<h1 class="pg">The Project Gutenberg eBook, Troubled Waters, by Robert Leckie</h1>
+<p class="pg">This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States
+and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no
+restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
+under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this
+eBook or online at <a
+href="http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>.  If you are not
+located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the
+country where you are located before using this ebook.</p>
+<p class="pg">Title: Troubled Waters</p>
+<p class="pg">       Sandy Steele Adventures #6</p>
+<p class="pg">Author: Robert Leckie</p>
+<p class="pg">Release Date: October 31, 2015  [eBook #50353]</p>
+<p class="pg">Language: English</p>
+<p class="pg">Character set encoding: UTF-8</p>
+<p class="pg">***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TROUBLED WATERS***</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<h3 class="pg">E-text prepared by Stephen Hutcheson, Dave Morgan,<br />
+    and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br />
+    (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+
+<div class="img">
+<img id="coverpage" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Troubled Waters" width="500" height="775" />
+</div>
+<p class="center">SANDY STEELE ADVENTURES</p>
+<p class="center"><span class="sc">Black Treasure</span>
+<br /><span class="sc">Danger at Mormon Crossing</span>
+<br /><span class="sc">Stormy Voyage</span>
+<br /><span class="sc">Fire at Red Lake</span>
+<br /><span class="sc">Secret Mission to Alaska</span>
+<br /><span class="sc">Troubled Waters</span></p>
+<div class="box">
+<h1>Sandy Steele Adventures<br />
+<br /><i>TROUBLED WATERS</i></h1>
+<p class="tbcenter">BY ROGER BARLOW</p>
+<p class="tbcenter"><span class="small">SIMON AND SCHUSTER</span>
+<br /><i>New York, 1959</i></p>
+</div>
+<p class="csmaller">ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
+<br />INCLUDING THE RIGHT OF REPRODUCTION
+<br />IN WHOLE OR IN PART IN ANY FORM
+<br />COPYRIGHT &copy; 1959 BY SIMON AND SCHUSTER, INC.
+<br />PUBLISHED BY SIMON AND SCHUSTER, INC.
+<br />ROCKEFELLER CENTER, 630 FIFTH AVENUE
+<br />NEW YORK 20, N. Y.</p>
+<p class="csmaller">FIRST PRINTING</p>
+<p class="csmaller">LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOG CARD NUMBER: 59-13882
+<br />MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
+<br />BY H. WOLFF BOOK MFG. CO., INC., NEW YORK</p>
+<h2 class="toc">CONTENTS</h2>
+<dl class="toc">
+<dt class="jr"><span class="jl"><span class="small">CHAPTER</span></span> <span class="small">PAGE</span></dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">1 </span><a href="#c1">An Unusual Gift</a> 9</dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">2 </span><a href="#c2">Make Ready to Sail!</a> 20</dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">3 </span><a href="#c3">Shakedown Cruise</a> 33</dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">4 </span><a href="#c4">The Man with the Gun</a> 51</dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">5 </span><a href="#c5">Storm Fears</a> 67</dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">6 </span><a href="#c6">Something Lost&mdash;Something Found!</a> 75</dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">7 </span><a href="#c7">A Million Dollars&rsquo; Worth of Trouble</a> 82</dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">8 </span><a href="#c8">Double Blackout</a> 87</dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">9 </span><a href="#c9">To the Freighter</a> 97</dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">10 </span><a href="#c10">Aboard the Floating Prison</a> 108</dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">11 </span><a href="#c11">Escape to Danger</a> 120</dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">12 </span><a href="#c12">The Race Begins</a> 136</dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">13 </span><a href="#c13">A Race of Mistaken Identity</a> 146</dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">14 </span><a href="#c14">Slow-Motion Chase</a> 153</dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">15 </span><a href="#c15">Turn and Turn Again</a> 160</dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">16 </span><a href="#c16">The End of the Race</a> 169</dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">17 </span><a href="#c17">Another Discovery</a> 177</dt>
+<dt><span class="cn">18 </span><a href="#c18">Homeward Bound</a> 183</dt>
+</dl>
+<div class="img">
+<img src="images/pmg006.jpg" alt="CLIFFPORT CALIFORNIA" width="500" height="551" />
+<p class="center i">CLIFFPORT CALIFORNIA</p>
+</div>
+<div class="img">
+<img src="images/pmg006a.jpg" alt="SLOOP" width="500" height="452" />
+<p class="center i">SLOOP</p>
+</div>
+<dl class="int"><dt>(1) <i>Mainsail</i></dt>
+<dt>(2) <i>Jib</i></dt>
+<dt>(3) <i>Mast</i></dt>
+<dt>(4) <i>Boom</i></dt>
+<dt>(5) <i>Shrouds</i> (<i>standing rigging</i>)</dt>
+<dt>(6) <i>Headstay</i> (<span class="hst"> &rdquo;</span><span class="hst"> &rdquo;</span><span class="hst"> )</span></dt>
+<dt>(7) <i>Backstay</i> (<span class="hst"> &rdquo;</span><span class="hst"> &rdquo;</span><span class="hst"> )</span></dt>
+<dt>(8) <i>Rudder</i></dt>
+<dt>(9) <i>Tiller</i></dt>
+<dt>(10) <i>Mainsheet</i></dt>
+<dt>(11) <i>Hawk</i></dt>
+<dt>(12) <i>Halyards</i></dt></dl>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_9">9</div>
+<h2 id="c1"><span class="small">CHAPTER ONE</span>
+<br />An Unusual Gift</h2>
+<p>Sandy Steele slowly put down the phone and
+pushed his blond cowlick back from his brow. Excitement
+and confusion were mixed in equal parts
+in his expression as he turned to his father, John
+Steele, who stood leaning against his workbench,
+idly tossing a piece of quartz crystal in the air.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Wow!&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;Leave it to Uncle Russ to
+come up with a real surprise!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It certainly seems to be a habit of his,&rdquo; John
+Steele smiled. &ldquo;What do you think of this particular
+surprise?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I hardly know what to think,&rdquo; Sandy answered.
+&ldquo;The question is, what do you and Mother think?
+I mean, is it all right if I go&mdash;if I can find somebody
+to go with me?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_10">10</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Your mother and I discussed this with your
+Uncle Russ before he called you,&rdquo; Sandy&rsquo;s father
+said, &ldquo;so I guess that&rsquo;s one worry you don&rsquo;t have
+to consider. The only problem you have is finding
+somebody who knows how to handle a boat, and
+who&rsquo;ll be interested in making this trip with you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Wrinkling his forehead in thought, Sandy swung
+his gangling six-foot frame up on to the workbench
+next to his father. &ldquo;How about you, Dad?&rdquo;
+he asked. &ldquo;Do you know anything about sailing
+a boat?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>His father shook his head. &ldquo;Sailing is hardly a
+skill that a government field geologist needs to
+develop. My work is with rocks and minerals&mdash;the
+dryest kind of dry land. What I know about water,
+you could carve on granite and put in your watch
+pocket!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Geology didn&rsquo;t make you into an inventor, a
+chemist, an electrical engineer, a carpenter and
+gosh knows what else,&rdquo; Sandy answered, waving
+around him at the crowded workshop with its confusing
+mass of equipment. &ldquo;I just thought you
+might have done some reading on this subject,
+too.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_11">11</div>
+<p>John Steele smiled. &ldquo;As the proud but confused
+owner of a new sailboat, one of the first things
+you&rsquo;ll learn is that there&rsquo;s a world of difference
+between theory and practice. I&rsquo;ve been out on a
+boat a few times; years ago, though. I&rsquo;ve also read
+some books on the subject, as you thought. But all
+I know is that I don&rsquo;t know anything.&rdquo; He put
+down the quartz crystal and moved away from the
+workbench. &ldquo;No,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;if you&rsquo;re going to be
+able to accept your Uncle Russ&rsquo;s offer of a sailboat
+as a gift, and if you&rsquo;re going to sail it on a three-day
+trip down from Cliffport, you&rsquo;ll have to find
+someone with practical knowledge to help you
+do it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy frowned in concentration. &ldquo;Finding a
+sailor in Valley View is going to be like finding
+a ski instructor in the Sahara Desert!&rdquo; he said.
+&ldquo;Why, this town is almost one hundred miles inland
+from the ocean!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s true,&rdquo; John Steele said; &ldquo;but it seems
+to me that I once heard you and one of your
+friends talking about sailing. If I&rsquo;m not mistaken,
+it was Jerry James, and it sounded to me at the
+time as if he knew what he was talking about.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_12">12</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Of course!&rdquo; Sandy said, slapping his forehead
+in exasperation. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know why I didn&rsquo;t think
+of it! Jerry was a Sea Scout in Oceanhead before
+his family moved to Valley View. It&rsquo;s just that he&rsquo;s
+become so much a part of this town that I forget
+he didn&rsquo;t grow up here with the rest of us. I think
+he was a Sea Scout for about three years, and he
+had been sailing before he ever joined up. I&rsquo;m
+sure he can do it!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well,&rdquo; his father said, &ldquo;you&rsquo;d better hunt him
+up fast and find out whether he can and will. Your
+uncle expects us to call him back within a couple
+of hours to give him an answer, because he&rsquo;s leaving
+the country in two days and he wants to get
+this settled before he goes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He had hardly finished his sentence before
+Sandy was out of the workshop, on his bike, and
+tearing down the tree-shaded street. He was sure
+that Jerry would be able to do it! He remembered
+their conversation well, now that his father had
+reminded him of it, and he recalled that Jerry had
+said that he practically grew up on boats, and that
+they were the only thing that he missed since moving
+to Valley View. In the close friendship that
+had grown up between them in the last couple of
+years, Sandy could not think of one time that Jerry
+had promised something that he did not deliver.
+If he said he could do something, he could do it!
+Sandy smiled, remembering Jerry&rsquo;s early days in
+Valley View, his modest admission that he &ldquo;could
+play a little baseball,&rdquo; and his first day on the
+diamond. Jerry had immediately shown himself
+to be the best high school catcher in the county.
+With Sandy as pitcher, they had developed into
+an almost unbeatable battery.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_13">13</div>
+<p>As he pedaled toward the drugstore owned by
+Jerry&rsquo;s father, Sandy hoped that they would be
+able to carry their teamwork on in this new venture.
+He could still hardly believe his Uncle Russ&rsquo;s
+offer of a sailboat, provided he could find someone
+to teach him how to sail. Like most boys, he had
+read and enjoyed sea stories, although many of the
+words used were strange and meaningless to him.
+In his reading, he had often pictured himself at
+sea, steering a tall ship through white-capped seas.
+A confused series of sailing words went through
+his mind: bow, stern, helm, topgallant sails, mizzen,
+poop deck, quarter-deck, galley, batten the
+hatches, go aloft....</p>
+<p>He was suddenly brought back to land as he
+narrowly missed running his bike into Pepper
+March, who refused to hurry for a mere bike.
+Putting the sea dreams firmly out of his mind, he
+continued more carefully until he pulled up in
+front of James&rsquo;s Drugstore, where he put his bike
+in the rack under the green-and-white striped
+awning and hurried into the cool, vanilla-smelling store.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_14">14</div>
+<p>Jerry was behind the counter, making up a pineapple
+ice-cream soda for Quiz Taylor who, with
+two empty glasses in front of him, was impatiently
+waiting for the third.</p>
+<p>Sandy climbed onto the stool next to the stubby
+Quiz and impatiently waited until Jerry was
+through making the soda. When the concoction
+was safely delivered into Quiz&rsquo;s eager hands, Sandy
+said, &ldquo;Jerry, I&rsquo;ve got some real exciting news! In
+fact, it&rsquo;s so exciting that I didn&rsquo;t want to tell you
+while you still had that soda in your hands. I was
+afraid you&rsquo;d toss the whole thing into the air!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Having firmly secured both his friends&rsquo; attention,
+Sandy told them about the phone call from
+his Uncle Russ, the offer of the boat, the need for
+instruction and the whole story. When he had
+finished, Jerry&rsquo;s lantern-jawed face was lit up with
+a 500-watt grin.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It sounds as if this is going to be the best vacation
+of my life!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;A boat! I can hardly
+wait to get going!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy sighed with relief. &ldquo;Then you&rsquo;re sure you
+can handle it?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_15">15</div>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s a good question,&rdquo; Jerry said, running a
+hand over his close-cropped inky hair. &ldquo;To tell
+you the truth, I don&rsquo;t know because you haven&rsquo;t
+told me yet what kind of a boat it is. There are
+plenty that I wouldn&rsquo;t even say I could act as a
+decent crew member on. Do you know what kind
+it is?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why ... why ... it&rsquo;s a sailboat!&rdquo; Sandy
+said. &ldquo;I mean, that&rsquo;s all I know about it. Does it
+make much difference?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jerry laughed. &ldquo;There are almost as many different
+kinds of boats as there are people,&rdquo; he said.
+&ldquo;Nobody but a real Master Mariner would just
+answer that he could sail anything. It&rsquo;s like being
+an airplane pilot. If you got your pilot&rsquo;s license
+flying a Piper Cub, you wouldn&rsquo;t be exactly ready
+to fly a four-engine jet bomber!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Still,&rdquo; Quiz interrupted thoughtfully, &ldquo;the
+principle remains the same in both. It&rsquo;s simply a
+question of creating a high-speed airstream, so
+directed as to pass over and under an aerodynamically
+shaped surface which, because of the varying
+degree of arc and the cambered sections and
+angle of attack, produces a lift, drag and momentum
+proportional to the density of the air, the
+square of the speed and the area of the wing or
+airfoil. It&rsquo;s simple! What&rsquo;s more, a sailboat works
+the same way.&rdquo; Looking pleased with himself,
+Quiz happily returned his attention to the pineapple
+soda.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_16">16</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Why, Quiz!&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t know you
+could fly!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Fly!&rdquo; Quiz looked up from his soda with a
+grimace. &ldquo;The very thought of flying makes me
+sick. If I don&rsquo;t hold on to the banister, I get dizzy
+when I go up to bed at night!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>All three boys laughed, for this side of Quiz&rsquo;s
+personality was a standing joke with them. Quiz,
+formally known as Clyde Benson Taylor, was
+a virtual encyclopedia of obscure information.
+While he could tell you vast amounts about nearly
+every human activity, the very idea of taking part
+in an activity usually upset him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;So much for theory,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;Now, to get
+back to the practical realities of sailing a boat&mdash;I&rsquo;d
+have to know a few things about the kind of
+sailboat you have before I&rsquo;d be willing to give an
+answer. There are all kinds of boats, of all different
+sizes. There are sloops, cats, cutters, yawls,
+ketches, schooners and a hundred variations. Did
+your Uncle Russ give you any idea of what he has
+for you?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_17">17</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I think he said it was a sloop,&rdquo; Sandy said.
+&ldquo;And he did say that while it was large enough to
+sleep on and take out on a cruise, it was a pretty
+small boat. He said that anyone who knew how to
+sail would know how to handle it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That sounds right to me,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t
+think that he&rsquo;d want to start you off with a complicated
+rig or a big boat. If it&rsquo;s the kind of thing
+I think it is, I&rsquo;m sure I can sail it, and teach you
+too.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Will I have to learn all about yardarms and
+fore-topgallant sails and things like that?&rdquo; Sandy
+asked, somewhat doubtfully.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not for quite a while,&rdquo; Jerry laughed. &ldquo;You&rsquo;ve
+been reading too many books about pirates and
+whalers in the old days. You only find all those
+complicated sail and rigging names on the big
+square-rigged ships&mdash;the ones with three and
+four masts. If your boat is a sloop, it only has one
+mast, one mainsail, and a choice of maybe three
+other sails, flown one at a time with the mainsail.
+There&rsquo;s nothing much to learn compared with the
+old full-rigged ships with up to four masts.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Five,&rdquo; Quiz said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I never heard of one with more than four,&rdquo;
+Jerry commented.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_18">18</div>
+<p>As if he were reading from a book buried deep
+in his pineapple soda, Quiz mumbled around the
+straws, &ldquo;The steel ship <i>Preussen</i> was the only five-mast
+full-rigged ship ever built. It was 408 feet
+long, had masts 223 feet high, yardarms over 100
+feet long and 47 sails totaling 50,000 square feet.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Even though Sandy was used to this sort of thing
+from Quiz, he was more impressed than usual.
+&ldquo;How would you like to come with us, Quiz?&rdquo; he
+asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who, me?&rdquo; Quiz looked shocked. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t
+know the first thing about boats! No, thanks&mdash;I&rsquo;ll
+stay safe ashore!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The next half hour was spent in excitedly discussing
+the trip to come, the possibilities of sailing,
+the things Sandy would have to learn, and the
+equipment that he and Jerry would have to take
+along. Finally Sandy remembered that his Uncle
+Russ was expecting a phone call, and that Jerry
+still had to get his parents&rsquo; permission to make the
+trip. They agreed to go back to Sandy&rsquo;s house and
+let John Steele make the call to Jerry&rsquo;s father so
+that the adults could satisfy themselves about the
+wisdom of letting the boys take a three-day cruise
+for Sandy&rsquo;s first trip.</p>
+<p>Leaving Quiz in charge of the drugstore&rsquo;s soda
+fountain, they quickly hiked to the Steele home,
+where Sandy&rsquo;s father agreed to make the call.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_19">19</div>
+<p>Getting Jerry&rsquo;s parents&rsquo; consent to the trip
+proved not to be a difficult task. Mr. and Mrs.
+James obviously had a good deal of confidence in
+Jerry&rsquo;s ability to handle a sailboat, and both sets
+of parents felt that their level-headed sixteen-year-olds
+could take such a trip on their own. In short
+order, all of the details were worked out, and
+Sandy was once more on the long-distance phone
+to speak with his Uncle Russ in San Francisco.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s okay!&rdquo; he shouted, as soon as his uncle
+answered the telephone. &ldquo;Jerry James, my best
+friend, used to be a Sea Scout and knows all about
+boats. His parents say he&rsquo;s a good sailor. We&rsquo;re
+ready to start any time you want!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He listened for a minute to his uncle, then said,
+&ldquo;Swell! We&rsquo;ll be ready. And thanks a million for
+the boat!&rdquo; Hanging up the phone, he turned to
+his father, mother and Jerry with a wide grin.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Uncle Russ sure doesn&rsquo;t waste any time,&rdquo; he
+said. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s leaving now and expects to be down
+here tonight. He says that we&rsquo;d better get all
+packed and ready, because he wants to take us up
+to Cliffport tomorrow morning, and we&rsquo;ll have to
+leave here by six o&rsquo;clock!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_20">20</div>
+<h2 id="c2"><span class="small">CHAPTER TWO</span>
+<br />Make Ready to Sail!</h2>
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s one good thing about riding in this
+little sports car,&rdquo; Sandy said, and laughed as he
+eased his cramped six-foot length out of his Uncle
+Russ&rsquo;s low-slung red racer. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s going to make
+the sailboat seem as roomy as a yacht in comparison!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy pushed his cowlick out of his eyes and
+stretched as his uncle and his friend Jerry followed
+him out of the little car.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_21">21</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t worry about the size of the boat,&rdquo; Jerry
+said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll guarantee that it&rsquo;s going to seem pretty
+big and complicated, no matter how small it actually
+is, until you&rsquo;ve learned how to sail it. In
+fact, you&rsquo;re going to find that a boat is a whole new
+world, full of all kinds of new things to get used
+to. And from what your uncle told us about this
+one, it&rsquo;ll be more than big enough to keep us both
+busy for a couple of summers to come.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I feel as if we&rsquo;re in a whole new world already,&rdquo;
+Sandy replied, &ldquo;and we&rsquo;re not even on
+board yet!&rdquo; He looked about him at the beehive
+of activity that was the Cliffport Boat Yard. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve
+never seen anything like this before!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>From all sides came the sounds of hammering
+and sawing, and the thin whine of electric sanders.
+The brisk, salty smell of the sea was mingled with
+the sharp odors of paint, varnish and turpentine
+and the peculiar, half-sweet smell of marine engine
+fuel.</p>
+<p>Boats of every size and description were ranged
+about them. Towering high above them, resting
+in specially built cradles, were long hulls with
+deep, weighted keels like giant fins under them.
+Heavy frames and timbers held these boats upright,
+and ladders leaned against them to where
+their decks joined their sides, high overhead. Men
+scrambled up and down the ladders with tools and
+equipment, or sat on the scaffolds and frames,
+painting.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_22">22</div>
+<p>Smaller craft without keels were braced in
+cradles or frames on the ground, or lay bottoms
+up on racks made of heavy beams that looked
+like railroad ties. Some of the boats were having
+their bottoms scraped, some were being sanded,
+others were in the process of painting.</p>
+<p>At one nearby boat, Sandy saw men hammering
+on the bottom of the hull with big wooden
+mallets. Jerry explained that these were calking
+hammers, and that they were used to drive oakum
+into the seams between the planks to make the
+boats watertight for sailing. When the boats were
+put in the water later on, he added, the planks
+would swell and form waterproof joints where the
+planks met.</p>
+<p>On both sides, lines of railroad tracks led from
+the boat yard and the big sheds straight down to
+the water&rsquo;s edge and on into the water. Boats on
+wheeled flatcars stood on the rails here and there,
+ready to be eased down the tracks into the water
+for launching. Jerry explained how, when the flatcars
+with their cradles had gone down the slope
+and were under water, the boats simply floated
+away from them. Then the launching device
+would be hauled back up the tracks for use on
+another boat.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_23">23</div>
+<p>Sandy looked about him in bewilderment at
+the variety of boats in the yard. There were small
+boats with one mast, larger ones with two, cabin
+cruisers with no masts at all, and one sleek, beautiful,
+black-hulled boat with three tall masts. He
+was just beginning to think that he had found
+some relationship between the size of the boat and
+the number of masts when he spotted what appeared
+to be one of the largest hulls in the boat
+yard, with one immense mast. Next to it was a far
+smaller boat with two. Sandy thought to himself
+that there didn&rsquo;t appear to be any simple rules to
+the business of boat designing. All in all the bustling
+Cliffport Boat Yard was a thoroughly confusing
+sight for Sandy, and a pretty exciting one,
+too.</p>
+<p>As a matter of fact, the entire last two days had
+been pretty confusing and exciting, Sandy reflected.
+Just two days ago, he had started on his
+spring vacation from Valley View High School
+with not a thing to do but loaf around home. Now,
+suddenly, he was the owner of a sailboat he had
+never seen, and he was preparing to take a two-hundred-mile
+cruise down the coast! A two-hundred-mile
+cruise&mdash;and he had never even been on
+board a sailboat!</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_24">24</div>
+<p>Looking at the maze of masts and rigging
+around him, Sandy sensed for the first time some
+of the complications of handling a boat. Laying a
+hand on his friend&rsquo;s shoulder, he said, &ldquo;Boy, Jerry,
+I sure hope you can sail this boat alone! If what
+I see around me is a sample, I&rsquo;m afraid I&rsquo;m going
+to be too confused to do more than just watch you
+and maybe ask a few simple-minded questions!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t worry about it,&rdquo; Jerry said with a grin.
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s not anywhere near as complicated as it looks
+at first sight. I learned to handle a boat fairly well
+in just a few summers at the shore, plus some instruction
+in the Sea Scouts, and I didn&rsquo;t even have
+my own boat so that I could sail regularly. One
+season of working your own boat will probably
+turn you into a first-rate skipper!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then Jerry frowned for a minute and ran his
+hand over his hair. &ldquo;Speaking of being a skipper,&rdquo;
+he began awkwardly, &ldquo;you realize, I guess, that I&rsquo;ll
+have to act as skipper of this boat at first? I mean,
+I know it&rsquo;s your boat and all, but....&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy laughed. &ldquo;You go right ahead and take
+charge! I&rsquo;ll be more than happy to take orders
+from you. After all, somebody on board has to be
+in charge, and it&rsquo;s a good idea to have it be someone
+who knows what he&rsquo;s in charge of!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Fine,&rdquo; Jerry said, looking relieved. &ldquo;If you
+just keep up that kind of attitude, you&rsquo;ll be the
+best kind of a crew member that any skipper could
+ask for!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_25">25</div>
+<p>Sandy&rsquo;s Uncle Russ had been waiting by his car
+while the boys had been talking and taking in the
+sights, sounds and smells of the Cliffport Boat
+Yard. Now he moved over to join them. &ldquo;The
+trunk of the car is open,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;and your sea
+bags are in there. And that&rsquo;s as much as I intend
+to do about it. I don&rsquo;t know much about sailors,
+but if they&rsquo;re anything at all like soldiers, they
+carry their own packs! Now let&rsquo;s get going!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The boys grinned sheepishly and ran to the
+back of the car to gather their equipment, and
+Russell Steele relaxed and dropped his mock military
+manner. An ex-general of the United States
+Army, he often kidded Sandy and his friends by
+pretending that they were soldiers in his command.
+This time, he reflected, it was very nearly
+true. In the same way that a general must feel a
+responsibility toward the men he sends out on a
+mission, Russell Steele felt responsible for Sandy
+and Jerry as they were preparing to set out on this
+trip.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_26">26</div>
+<p>After all, he reminded himself, the trip had
+been his idea, and the sailboat had been his present
+to Sandy. He had been using the boat during
+the last few months while doing some research on
+special underwater equipment for the government,
+and now he no longer had any need for it. As Vice
+President of World Dynamics Corporation, Russell
+Steele was in charge of the New Projects Division.
+World Dynamics was a sprawling concern
+with almost unlimited interests, often in the most
+secret kinds of affairs, and his work with it often
+called him to different parts of the world. He had
+found his stay in Cliffport a pleasant change from
+some of the remote and often primitive places he
+had been forced to settle in in the past. Now, however,
+he was off again, to one more secret destination.
+He wouldn&rsquo;t be in a position to use a sailboat
+again for a long time to come.</p>
+<p>Sandy&rsquo;s Uncle Russ had been brought up on the
+seacoast of California. While his brother, Sandy&rsquo;s
+father, had become fascinated with the rocks and
+geological formations of the nearby mountains and
+deserts, he had gone in the other direction to the
+shores of the Pacific. During nearly all of his boyhood
+he had puttered around boats and boat
+yards.</p>
+<p>Although Russell Steele had spent most of his
+adult life in the Army (and maybe because of it)
+he had always had a soft spot in his heart for the
+sport of sailing. He had regretted that Sandy, his
+only nephew, lived inland in Valley View where
+he was unable to share in this enthusiasm. But
+Valley View was only a couple of hours from the
+seacoast and now that Sandy was old enough to
+drive a car, it would be possible for him to own
+and enjoy a sailboat.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_27">27</div>
+<p>Uncle Russ thought of all this, and then he
+wondered whether it had been a good idea to
+suggest that the boys bring the sloop all the way
+down from Cliffport on their very first sail. Still,
+he mused, Jerry seemed like a responsible lad, and
+he had said that he knew how to handle a boat well
+enough to make such a trip. And Sandy learned
+fast and was good with his hands. Well, the General
+thought to himself, we&rsquo;ll just have to give
+them their heads and let them try it to see how
+they make out....</p>
+<p>At that moment in his reflections, the boys
+joined him with their luggage, and all three started
+through the boat yard to the waterfront. As they
+picked their way through the clutter of boats,
+scrap lumber, railroad tracks and equipment, they
+passed close by the side of a boat standing on the
+ways about to be launched. Sandy ran his hand
+over the gleaming paintwork of the hull, and
+found that it was as smooth as glass. Jerry explained
+that great care was given to getting a
+smooth paint job, because the greatest force working
+against a boat to slow it down is the friction
+created by the water passing over the hull. Good
+racing boats, he told Sandy, are hauled out of the
+water to be cleaned and painted several times in a season.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_28">28</div>
+<p>Their walk had by now led them down to the
+water&rsquo;s edge, where they walked along a weathered
+wharf. A light, early-morning haze made the colors
+of the sailboats that floated in the bay seem soft
+and pale. The water and the sky appeared to be
+one single surface, with no break or horizon line
+to indicate where one stopped and the other
+began. The boat-yard flag on its mast atop the
+main shed fluttered lazily in a mild breeze, and
+a gentle ground swell made soft, lapping sounds
+under the wharf.</p>
+<p>Strolling along, they came to a long, steeply
+sloping gangway that descended to a floating dock,
+to which were tied several small sailboats that
+rocked quietly on the smooth swell of Cliffport
+Bay.</p>
+<p>Russell Steele took his pipe out of his mouth
+and pointed with it. &ldquo;See there?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;The
+third sloop&mdash;the one with the white hull and the
+green decks and the varnished mast&mdash;that&rsquo;s your
+new sailboat, Sandy, and I hope you enjoy it as
+much as I have.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_29">29</div>
+<p>Before he had finished his sentence, Sandy and
+Jerry were down the steep gangway, racing along
+the floating dock to where the trim, white sloop
+was tied. Russ Steele smiled, replaced his pipe in
+his mouth, and followed at a pace almost as fast as
+the boys&rsquo;.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a beauty!&rdquo; Sandy panted, pushing his hair
+back from his eyes. &ldquo;What slick lines! And look
+at how roomy the cabin is! And look at the height
+of the mast! And all that rigging!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>His grin faded, and a look of bewilderment
+spread across his face. &ldquo;Boy, I can sure say that
+again! Just look at all that rigging! How am I
+supposed to know what to do with what and when
+to do it, Jerry?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jerry laughed, and jumped lightly into the
+small cockpit. &ldquo;Come on board, skipper, and we&rsquo;ll
+start your first sailing lesson by showing you
+around and telling you the names of things. It&rsquo;s
+not half as complicated as it looks. In fact, this
+sloop rig is just about the simplest there is. As soon
+as you learn what to call things, you&rsquo;ll have the
+hardest part of the lesson over with.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy followed Jerry into the cockpit, then
+paused to turn and face his uncle, who was still
+standing on the dock. &ldquo;How about you, Uncle
+Russ?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;Will you stick around for a
+little while and take the first sail with us?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_30">30</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Thanks for asking, Sandy,&rdquo; Russell Steele
+answered, &ldquo;but much as I&rsquo;d like to come along
+with you, I can&rsquo;t manage it. I have to be back in
+my office this afternoon for an important conference.
+In fact, I&rsquo;ll just about make it if I get
+started now. But before I get under way, and
+before you get carried away with the fine art of
+sailing, there are a few things that you&rsquo;ll need to
+know.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He talked rapidly and uninterruptedly for
+about five minutes and, when he had finished,
+Sandy appreciated for the first time how thoroughly
+well-organized his Uncle Russ was. His
+preparations for the boys&rsquo; trip had been complete
+in every last detail. Russell Steele&rsquo;s practiced military
+mind had reviewed the situation and had
+missed nothing that might be needed.</p>
+<p>The sailboat had been fully provisioned for
+more than a week of sailing, and had been
+equipped for every possible emergency as well as
+for a routine and pleasant cruise. The small cabin
+contained an alcohol cookstove and a good supply
+of canned food. Every locker and storage place was
+full, and everything put on board had been chosen
+with care and an eye for both comfort and necessity.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_31">31</div>
+<p>A complete tool chest was stowed in its cubby
+with several boxes of spare hardware, ship fittings,
+nuts and bolts, wire and odd tackle. A drawer
+under one of the bunks contained a whole assortment
+of fishing equipment. Another carried an
+odd mixture of things that the boys might want,
+even including clothespins for drying garments,
+and a sewing kit. A specially made bag contained
+another sewing kit, this one for sails and canvas
+repair.</p>
+<p>In a narrow, hanging locker in the forward part
+of the cabin were two complete foul-weather suits
+consisting of waterproof pants and jackets with
+hoods. Below them were two pairs of sea boots.</p>
+<p>Opposite this was the small enclosed &ldquo;head,&rdquo;
+sailor&rsquo;s word for bathroom. No bigger than a
+telephone booth, it still managed to contain a
+toilet and a sink, plus a cabinet for medicines and
+first-aid supplies and another for towels, soap,
+toothbrushes and the like.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The only things that you won&rsquo;t find on board
+yet,&rdquo; Russell Steele concluded, &ldquo;are your sleeping
+bags and your air mattresses. I&rsquo;ve ordered
+special ones that the local store didn&rsquo;t have in
+stock, and they&rsquo;re not due to arrive until tomorrow.
+For tonight, you&rsquo;ll have to plan on sleeping
+ashore, but I&rsquo;ve taken care of that for you,
+too. I&rsquo;ve got a room reserved for you at the Cliffport
+Hotel. After tomorrow, you can sleep on
+board, like sailors.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_32">32</div>
+<p>He scowled at his pipe for several seconds, as if
+he hoped to see in it some hint of anything that
+he might have forgotten to take care of, and he
+mentally checked each item again. Sails okay?
+Charts and navigating instruments in place? Food?
+Tools? Spare lines? Life jackets? Oars for the
+dinghy? Cleaning equipment? Sea anchor? Everything
+checked out. At last, satisfied that all was in
+good order, he smiled and clamped the pipe in
+his teeth again.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;the only thing I&rsquo;ve forgotten
+is the seagoing way to say goodbye!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He settled for &ldquo;Ahoy!&rdquo; and &ldquo;Smooth sailing!&rdquo;
+and, brushing off Sandy&rsquo;s thanks, walked briskly
+up the gangway without turning back.</p>
+<p>The boys watched him as he turned the corner
+of the main shed and walked out of sight, then
+they gave all their attention to a close survey of
+their new floating home.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_33">33</div>
+<h2 id="c3"><span class="small">CHAPTER THREE</span>
+<br />Shakedown Cruise</h2>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, Jerry, what do you think of it?&rdquo; Sandy
+asked his friend, as he cast a proud eye along
+the sleekly shaped length of the little sloop.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not &lsquo;it,&rsquo;&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;You should say &lsquo;her.&rsquo;
+You always call boats &lsquo;she&rsquo; or &lsquo;her,&rsquo; though I&rsquo;ve
+never met a sailor who could tell you why.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jerry looked critically down the twenty-four-foot
+length of the sloop. &ldquo;She looks really seaworthy,&rdquo;
+he said, &ldquo;and she looks pretty fast, too.
+Of course, this is not a racing boat, you know.
+They use this kind mostly for day sailing and for
+short cruises. Even so, she looks as if she&rsquo;ll go. Of
+course, we can&rsquo;t really tell until we&rsquo;ve tried her,
+and I don&rsquo;t think we&rsquo;ll be ready to try anything
+fast for a little while yet.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_34">34</div>
+<p>Noticing the flicker of disappointment that
+crossed Sandy&rsquo;s face, Jerry added, &ldquo;I&rsquo;d rather have
+a boat like this than any racing machine ever
+built. And I&rsquo;m not saying that just to make you
+feel better about not having a racer. There&rsquo;s not
+much difference in actual speed between a really
+fast boat and an ordinary good boat of the same
+size. But there sure is a lot of difference in comfort.
+And I like my comfort when I go for a cruise.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why should a racing boat be uncomfortable?&rdquo;
+Sandy asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s not uncomfortable for racing, or for day
+sailing,&rdquo; Jerry answered, &ldquo;but a racing boat of this
+size wouldn&rsquo;t be fitted out for cruising at all. You
+see, to get the most speed out of a boat, designers
+make sure that the hull is kept as light as possible
+and as streamlined as possible, too. A light hull
+will ride with less of its surface in the water, and
+that cuts down on the amount of friction. You
+remember what I told you about friction before?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_35">35</div>
+<p>Sandy nodded, and Jerry went on. &ldquo;Streamlining
+the hull shape helps it to cut through the
+water without making a lot of waves at the bow
+to hold it back. Not only that, but to make the
+boat really as fast as possible, most designers want
+to streamline the decks, too. That way, even the
+air resistance is lowered. Well, when you streamline
+the hull, you make less cabin space below.
+Then when you streamline the decks, you have to
+lower the cabin roof so that it&rsquo;s level with the
+decks. You can see that in a small boat like this,
+you wind up with no cabin at all.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I see,&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;But how does the lightness
+of the hull affect comfort? I&rsquo;m not so sure I understand
+that.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;When you have a light hull,&rdquo; Jerry replied,
+&ldquo;it&rsquo;s a good idea to keep it light. If you overload it,
+you lose the advantage you built into it in the first
+place. That means that you can&rsquo;t carry all the stuff
+we have on board to make for comfortable, safe
+cruising. Our bunks, the galley, the head, the
+spare anchor, all the tools and supplies&mdash;it adds
+up to a lot of weight. If you want a really fast boat,
+you have to leave all that stuff behind.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Then if this were a racing boat,&rdquo; Sandy said,
+&ldquo;we wouldn&rsquo;t have anything more than a small
+cockpit and a lot of deck, with a little storage
+space! No wonder you said you&rsquo;d rather have a
+boat like this! But there&rsquo;s one thing I&rsquo;d still like
+to know. You said that there wasn&rsquo;t much difference
+in real speed between a racing boat and
+an ordinary good boat. How much is &lsquo;not much&rsquo;?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_36">36</div>
+<p>Jerry thought for a minute. &ldquo;Well&mdash;&rdquo; he said,
+at length&mdash;&ldquo;I&rsquo;d have to know a lot more about
+boat design than I know to give you an accurate
+answer, but I can give you a rough idea. This is
+a twenty-four-foot boat. If it were a racing hull,
+you might get eight and a half or maybe even
+nine knots out of it under ideal conditions. For
+practical purposes, you can figure eight or less. A
+knot, by the way, is a nautical mile, and it&rsquo;s a little
+more than a regular mile. When you say eight
+knots, you mean eight nautical miles an hour.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But that&rsquo;s not fast!&rdquo; Sandy objected. &ldquo;You said
+that&rsquo;s what a fast racing boat would do!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jerry smiled. &ldquo;Believe me, Sandy,&rdquo; he said,
+&ldquo;when your boat is heeling way over and your
+decks are awash and your sails are straining full
+of wind, it seems like an awful lot of speed! You&rsquo;ll
+see when we get out today. Besides, speed is all
+relative. A really dangerous speed on a bike would
+seem like a slow crawl in a car.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I guess you&rsquo;re right,&rdquo; Sandy answered. &ldquo;But
+you didn&rsquo;t tell me how fast this boat will go, compared
+to a racer.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_37">37</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I think we&rsquo;ll get five or six knots out of her,&rdquo;
+Jerry replied thoughtfully. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s not fast, but
+it&rsquo;s only a couple of knots slower than the fastest.
+You see now what I mean?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy nodded, then said, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m with you, Jerry.
+Now that I know a little bit about it, I sure think
+you&rsquo;re right. I&rsquo;d much rather have a boat we can
+sleep on and take on trips up and down the coast
+than a racer that doesn&rsquo;t even go so fast! Besides,
+I&rsquo;d be pretty foolish to think about any other
+kind of boat at all, wouldn&rsquo;t I? I don&rsquo;t even have
+the least idea of how to sail this one yet! Come on,
+Jerry, start showing me!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As Jerry carefully explained the different parts
+of the rigging, the complicated-looking series of
+wires and ropes around the mast began to look a
+whole lot simpler to Sandy. The first thing he
+learned was that not much of the rigging moved
+or was used for actual sailing of the boat. The
+parts that didn&rsquo;t move were called &ldquo;standing
+rigging,&rdquo; and if you eliminated them from your
+thoughts, it made the &ldquo;running rigging&rdquo; comparatively
+easy to understand.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_38">38</div>
+<p>&ldquo;You have to learn about the rigging first,&rdquo;
+Jerry said. &ldquo;The idea is simple enough. The
+standing rigging is used to support the mast and
+keep it from bending to either side or to the front
+or back when the sails start to put pressure on it.
+The standing rigging is every line or cable you see
+that comes from the top of the mast or near it
+down to the outer edge of the deck or to the bow
+or stern.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy looked about the little sloop, and noticed
+that this seemed to take care of more than half of
+what he saw.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The running rigging,&rdquo; Jerry went on, &ldquo;is used
+to raise and lower the sails and to control their
+position to catch the wind when you&rsquo;re sailing.
+The lines that are used to raise and lower the
+sails on the mast are called halyards. They work
+just like the ropes on a flagpole. The other kind
+of running rigging&mdash;the lines used to control the
+way the sails set&mdash;are called sheets. You&rsquo;d think
+that a sheet was a sail, wouldn&rsquo;t you? It isn&rsquo;t,
+though. It&rsquo;s the line that controls a sail.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think I understand so far,&rdquo; Sandy said, &ldquo;but
+don&rsquo;t you think it would be easier for me to learn
+if we went out for a sail and I could see everything
+working?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Right,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s just what I was
+going to say next. Telling you this way makes me
+feel too much like a schoolteacher!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_39">39</div>
+<p>Jerry decided that it would not be a good idea
+to try to sail away from the dock, because the
+part of the harbor they were in was so crowded.
+There would be little room to maneuver with
+only the light morning winds to help them. The
+best thing to do, he concluded, was to move the
+boat to a less crowded part of the harbor. At the
+same time, he would teach Sandy the way to get
+away from a mooring. In order to do all this,
+Jerry explained, they would row out in the dinghy,
+towing the sloop behind them. Once out in open
+water, they would tie the dinghy behind them and
+pull it along as they sailed.</p>
+<p>Together they unlashed the dinghy, which was
+resting on chocks on the cabin roof. Light and
+easy to handle, the dinghy was no trouble at all to
+launch, and in a minute it was floating alongside,
+looking like a cross between a canoe and a light-weight
+bathtub.</p>
+<p>Getting into the dinghy carefully, so as not to
+upset its delicate balance, they untied the sloop
+from the dock. Then they fastened the bow line of
+the sloop to a ring on the stern of the dinghy, got
+out the stubby oars and started to row.</p>
+<p>At first, it took some strong pulling at the oars
+to start the sailboat moving away from the dock,
+and Sandy feared that they would tip over the frail
+cockleshell of the dinghy. But once the sloop
+started to move, Sandy found that it took surprisingly
+little effort to tow it along. It glided easily
+behind them, its tall mast swaying overhead, as
+they rowed slowly out into the waters of Cliffport Bay.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_40">40</div>
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll find an empty mooring, and tie up for
+a few minutes,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think that
+anyone will mind. I want to show you the method
+we&rsquo;ll use most of the time for getting under way.&rdquo;
+He pointed to the anchorage area, or &ldquo;holding
+ground,&rdquo; as it was called, and Sandy noticed
+several blocks of painted wood floating about.
+They had numbers, and some had small flags on
+them. &ldquo;Those are moorings,&rdquo; Jerry explained.
+&ldquo;They&rsquo;re just permanent anchors, with floats to
+mark the spot and to hold up the end of the mooring
+line. Every boat owner has his own mooring to
+come in to. The people who own these empty
+moorings are probably out sailing for the day, and
+we won&rsquo;t interfere if we use one for a while.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Easing back on the oars, they let the sloop lose
+momentum and came to a natural stop near one
+of the moorings. They transferred the bow line
+from the dinghy to the mooring and made the
+sloop fast in its temporary berth. Then they
+climbed back on board and tied the dinghy behind
+them. Jerry explained that a long enough scope
+of line should be left for the dinghy so as to keep it
+from riding up and overtaking the sloop, as accidents
+of this sort have been known to damage
+the bow of a fragile dinghy.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_41">41</div>
+<p>This done, Jerry busied himself by unlashing
+the boom and the rudder to get them ready to use,
+while Sandy went below for the sail bags. These
+were neatly stacked in a forward locker, each one
+marked with the name of the type of sail it
+contained. He selected the ones marked &ldquo;main&rdquo;
+and &ldquo;jib,&rdquo; as Jerry had asked him to, and brought
+them out into the cockpit.</p>
+<p>Making the mainsail ready to hoist, Sandy
+quickly got the knack of threading the sail slides
+onto the tracks on the mast and the boom. He
+worked at this while Jerry made the necessary adjustments
+to the halyards and fastened them to the
+heads of the sails. When this job was done, Sandy
+slid the foot of the sail aft along the boom, and
+Jerry made it fast with a block-and-tackle arrangement
+which was called the &ldquo;clew outhaul.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; Jerry said, when they had finished, &ldquo;it&rsquo;s
+time to hoist the mainsail!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What about the mooring?&rdquo; Sandy asked.
+&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t you want me to untie the boat from it
+first?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not yet,&rdquo; Jerry answered. &ldquo;We won&rsquo;t do that
+until we&rsquo;re ready to go.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_42">42</div>
+<p>&ldquo;But won&rsquo;t we start going as soon as we pull up
+the mainsail?&rdquo; said Sandy, puzzled.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;Nothing will happen when
+we hoist the sail. It&rsquo;s like raising a flag. The flag
+doesn&rsquo;t fill with wind and pull at the flagpole
+like a sail, does it? It just points into the wind and
+flutters. That&rsquo;s just what the mainsail will do.
+You see, the boat is already pointing into the
+wind, because the wind has swung us around on
+the mooring. You look around and you&rsquo;ll see that
+all the boats out here are heading in the exact
+same direction, toward the wind. When we hoist
+the sail, it&rsquo;ll act just like a flag, and flap around
+until we&rsquo;re ready to use it. Then we&rsquo;ll make it do
+what we want it to by using the jib and controlling
+its position with the sheets. Look.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jerry hauled on the main halyard, and the sail
+slid up its tracks on the mast, squeaking and
+grating. As it reached the masthead, it fluttered
+and bellied loosely in the wind, doing nothing to
+make the boat move in any direction. Motioning
+to Sandy to take his place tugging at the halyard,
+Jerry jumped down into the cockpit.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_43">43</div>
+<p>The halyard ran from the pointed head of the
+sail up through a pulley at the top of the mast,
+then down to where Sandy was hauling on it.
+Below his hands, it passed through another pulley
+near Sandy&rsquo;s feet, then back along the cabin roof.
+Jerry, from his position in the cockpit, grabbed
+the end of the halyard and hauled tight, taking the
+strain from Sandy. Then he tied it down to a wing-shaped
+cleat on the cabin roof near the cockpit.</p>
+<p>This was done with a few expert flips of the
+wrist. The mainsail was up, and tightly secured.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;Now we&rsquo;re almost ready.
+We won&rsquo;t move at all until we get the jib up, and
+even then we won&rsquo;t move unless we want to.
+When we want to, we&rsquo;ll untie from the mooring
+and get away as neat as you please.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They then took the jib out of its sail bag and
+made ready to hoist it. Instead of securing to the
+mast with slides on a track the way the mainsail
+had, the jib had a series of snaps stitched to its forward
+edge. These were snapped around the steel
+wire forestay, a part of the standing rigging that
+ran from the bow of the boat to a position high
+up on the mast. The jib halyard was fastened to
+the head of the jib, the snaps were put in place,
+and a few seconds of work saw the jib hanging in
+place, flapping before the mast. Then Jerry asked
+Sandy to pick up the mooring that they had tied
+to, and to walk aft with it.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_44">44</div>
+<p>&ldquo;When you walk aft with the mooring,&rdquo; Jerry
+explained, &ldquo;you actually put some forward motion
+on the boat. Then, when you get aft and I tell you
+to throw the mooring over, you put the bow a
+little off the wind by doing it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy untied the bow line from the mooring,
+and walked to the stern of the boat, holding the
+mooring float as he had been told. Then, when
+Jerry said &ldquo;Now!&rdquo; he threw the mooring over
+with a splash.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;With the jib flying and the boat free from the
+mooring and no longer pointing directly into the
+wind,&rdquo; Jerry said, &ldquo;the wind will catch the jib
+and blow our bow even further off. At the same
+time, I&rsquo;ll steer to the side instead of straight ahead.
+As soon as our bow is pointing enough away from
+the wind, the breeze will strike our sails from one
+side, and they&rsquo;ll start to fill. When the sails have
+caught the wind right, I&rsquo;ll ease off on the rudder,
+and we&rsquo;ll be moving ahead.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>By this time, the morning haze had &ldquo;burned
+off&rdquo; and the light breeze had freshened into a
+crisp, steady wind. As the head of the little sloop
+&ldquo;fell away&rdquo; from the direction from which the
+wind was coming, the sails swelled, the boat
+leaned slightly to one side, and a ripple of waves
+splashed alongside the hull. Sandy looked back
+and saw that the bow of the dinghy, trailing behind
+them, was beginning to cut a small white
+wave through the water.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_45">45</div>
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;re under way!&rdquo; Jerry cried. &ldquo;Come on over
+here, skipper! You take the tiller and learn how
+to steer your boat while I handle the sails and
+show you what to do!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy slid over on the stern seat to take Jerry&rsquo;s
+place, and held the tiller in the position he had
+been shown, while Jerry explained how to trim
+the sails and how to go where you wanted to go
+instead of where the wind wanted to take you.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll take care of the sail trimming,&rdquo; Jerry said.
+&ldquo;All you have to do is keep the boat heading on
+the course she&rsquo;s sailing now. The wind is pretty
+much at our backs and off to the starboard side.
+You have to keep it that way, and especially keep
+the stern from swinging around to face the wind
+directly. It&rsquo;s not hard to do. Just pick a landmark
+and steer toward it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He looked ahead to where a point of land jutted
+out some miles off the mainland. A lighthouse
+tower made an exclamation mark against the sky.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Just steer a little to the right of that,&rdquo; he said,
+&ldquo;and we can&rsquo;t go wrong.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What if the wind shifts?&rdquo; Sandy asked. &ldquo;How
+can we tell?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_46">46</div>
+<p>Jerry pointed to the masthead, where a small
+triangular metal flag swung. &ldquo;Just keep an eye on
+that,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s called a hawk, and it&rsquo;s a sailor&rsquo;s
+weathervane.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;With one eye on the lighthouse and one eye on
+the masthead,&rdquo; Sandy laughed, &ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to look
+awfully silly!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He leaned back in the stern seat with the tiller
+tucked under his arm. The little sloop headed
+steadily for the lighthouse, steering easily. Every
+few seconds, Sandy glanced at the hawk to check
+the wind. He grinned and relaxed. He was steering
+his own boat! The sail towered tall and white
+against the blue sky above him and the water
+gurgled alongside and in the wake behind where
+the dinghy bobbed along like a faithful puppy.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This is the life!&rdquo; he sighed.</p>
+<p>Jerry pointed out a handsome, white-hulled,
+two-masted boat approaching them. &ldquo;Isn&rsquo;t that a
+beauty?&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a ketch. On a ketch, the
+mainmast is taller than the mizzen. That&rsquo;s how
+you tell the difference.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How do you tell the difference between the
+mainmast and the mizzen?&rdquo; Sandy asked. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re
+going to have to start with the simplest stuff with
+me.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_47">47</div>
+<p>&ldquo;The mainmast is always the one in front, and
+the mizzen is always the one aft,&rdquo; Jerry explained.
+&ldquo;A ketch has a taller main; a schooner has a taller
+mizzen; a yawl is the same as a ketch, except that
+the mizzen is set aft of the tiller. Got it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy shook his head and wondered if he would
+ever get all of this straight in his head. It was
+enough trying to learn the names of things on his
+own boat without worrying about the names of
+everything on other boats in the bay.</p>
+<p>As the ketch sailed by, the man at her tiller
+waved a friendly greeting. The boys waved back
+and Sandy watched the big ketch go smoothly
+past, wondering how much harder it might be to
+sail a two-masted boat of that size than it was to
+sail a relatively small sloop such as his own.
+Certainly it could not be as simple as the sloop,
+he thought. Why this little sailboat was a whole
+lot easier than it had seemed to be at first. As a
+matter of fact....</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Duck your head!&rdquo; Jerry yelled.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_48">48</div>
+<p>Not even stopping to think, Sandy dropped his
+head just in time to avoid being hit by the boom,
+which whizzed past barely a few inches above him!
+With a sharp crack of ropes and canvas, the sail
+filled with wind on the opposite side of the boat
+from where it had been a moment before, and
+the sloop heeled violently in the same direction.
+Jerry grabbed at the tiller, hauled in rapidly on
+the mainsheet, and set a new course. Then, calming
+down, he explained to Sandy what had
+happened.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We jibed,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;That means that you let
+the wind get directly behind us and then on the
+wrong side of us. The mainsail got the wind on
+the back of it, and the wind took it around to the
+other side of the boat. Because the sheets were let
+out all the way, there was nothing to restrain the
+sail from moving, and by the time it got over,
+it was going at a pretty fast clip. You saw the results!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jerry adjusted the mainsail to a better position
+relative to the wind, trimming it carefully to keep
+it from bagging, then he went on to explain. &ldquo;A
+jibe can only happen when you&rsquo;ve got the wind at
+your back. That&rsquo;s called sailing downwind, or
+sailing before the wind, or running free. It&rsquo;s the
+most dangerous point of sail, because of the chance
+of jibing. When the wind is strong, an uncontrolled
+jibe like the one we just took can split
+your sails, or ruin your rigging, or even snap
+your boom or your mast. Not to mention giving
+you a real bad headache if you&rsquo;re in the way of
+that boom!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_49">49</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I can just imagine,&rdquo; Sandy said, thinking of
+the force with which the boom had whizzed by.
+Then he added, &ldquo;You said something about an
+&lsquo;uncontrolled jibe,&rsquo; I think. Does that mean that
+there&rsquo;s some way to control it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I should have said an accidental jibe instead of
+an uncontrolled one,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;A deliberate
+or planned jibe is always controlled, and it&rsquo;s a
+perfectly safe and easy maneuver. All you have to
+do is to haul in on the sheet, so that the boom
+won&rsquo;t have any room for free swinging. Then you
+change your course to the new tack, let out the
+sail, and you&rsquo;re off with no trouble.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy grinned. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid that description
+went over my head as fast as the boom did&mdash;only
+a whole lot higher up!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Things always sound complicated when you
+describe them,&rdquo; Jerry said, &ldquo;but we&rsquo;ll do a couple
+later, and you&rsquo;ll see how it works.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Fine,&rdquo; Sandy agreed. &ldquo;But until we do, how
+can I keep from doing any more of the accidental
+variety?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_50">50</div>
+<p>&ldquo;The only way to avoid jibing,&rdquo; Jerry replied,
+&ldquo;is never to let the wind blow from the same side
+that the sail is set on. This means that if you feel
+the wind shift over that way, you have to alter
+your course quickly to compensate for it. If you
+don&rsquo;t want to alter your course, then you have to
+do a deliberate jibe and alter the direction of the
+sail. All it means is that you have to keep alert at
+the tiller, and keep an eye on the hawk, the way
+I told you, so that you always know which direction
+the wind is blowing from.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I guess I was getting too much confidence a lot
+too soon,&rdquo; Sandy admitted, shamefaced. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s
+obviously a lot more to this sailing business than
+I was beginning to think. Anyway, a jibe is one
+thing I won&rsquo;t let happen again. I&rsquo;ll stop looking at
+other boats for a while, and pay more attention to
+this one! There&rsquo;s more than enough to look at
+here, I guess.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Once more, Sandy cautiously took the tiller
+from Jerry. Then he grinned ruefully and said,
+&ldquo;Just do me one favor, will you, Jerry?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sure. What?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Just don&rsquo;t call me &lsquo;skipper&rsquo; any more. Not for
+a while, at least!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_51">51</div>
+<h2 id="c4"><span class="small">CHAPTER FOUR</span>
+<br />The Man with the Gun</h2>
+<p>&ldquo;Just keep her sailing on this downwind course,&rdquo;
+Jerry said. &ldquo;Head for that lighthouse the way you
+were before, and keep an occasional eye on the
+hawk. As long as the wind isn&rsquo;t dead astern, we
+shouldn&rsquo;t have any more jibing troubles. As soon
+as we get out into open water, we&rsquo;ll find an easier
+point of sail. We can&rsquo;t do that until we&rsquo;re clear of
+the channel, though. When we are, we&rsquo;ll reach for
+a while, and then I&rsquo;ll show you how to beat.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s reaching?&rdquo; Sandy asked. &ldquo;And what&rsquo;s
+beating? And how do you know when we&rsquo;re out of
+the channel into open water? And how do you
+even know for sure that we&rsquo;re in the channel
+now? And how....&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_52">52</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Whoa! Wait a minute! Let&rsquo;s take one question
+at a time. A reach is when you&rsquo;re sailing with the
+wind coming more from the side than from in front
+or from behind the boat. Beating is when the wind
+is more in front than on the side, and you have to
+sail into it. Beating is more like work than fun,
+but a reach is the fastest and easiest kind of a
+course to sail. That&rsquo;s why I want to reach as soon
+as we&rsquo;re out in open water where we can pick our
+direction without having to worry about channel
+markers.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How come reaching is the fastest kind of
+course to sail?&rdquo; Sandy asked. &ldquo;I would have
+guessed that sailing downwind with the wind
+pushing the boat ahead of it would be the fastest.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It sure seems as if it ought to work that way,&rdquo;
+Jerry said with a grin. &ldquo;But you&rsquo;ll find that sailboat
+logic isn&rsquo;t always so simple or easy. When
+you&rsquo;re running free in front of the wind, you
+can only go as fast as the wind is blowing. When
+you&rsquo;re reaching, you can actually sail a lot faster
+than the wind.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m afraid that I don&rsquo;t understand that,&rdquo; Sandy
+said. &ldquo;How does it work?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_53">53</div>
+<p>Jerry paused and thought for a minute. &ldquo;You
+remember what Quiz said about the sailboat
+working like an airplane? Well, he made it sound
+pretty tough to understand, what with all his
+formulas and proportions, but actually he was
+right. A sail is a lot like an airplane wing, except
+that it&rsquo;s standing up on end instead of sticking out
+to one side. Well, you know that the propellers
+on a plane make wind, and that the plane flies
+straight into that wind. You see, the wind that
+comes across the wing makes a vacuum on top of
+the wing surface, and the plane is drawn up into
+the vacuum. You get a lot more lift that way than
+if the propellers were under the wing and blowing
+straight up on the bottom of it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I see that,&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;And a propeller blowing
+under a wing would be pretty much the same
+as a wind blowing at the back of a sail. Right?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Right!&rdquo; Jerry said, looking pleased with his
+teaching ability. &ldquo;Now you have the idea. When
+you have a sail, like a wing standing up, the air
+that passes over the sail makes a vacuum in front
+and pulls the boat forward into it. Actually, the
+vacuum pulls us forward and to one side, the same
+as the wind from the propeller makes the plane go
+forward and up. We use the rudder and the keel
+to keep us going more straight than sideways.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_54">54</div>
+<p>Sandy shook his head as if to clear away cobwebs.
+&ldquo;I think that I understand now, but it&rsquo;s
+still a little hazy in my mind. Maybe I&rsquo;ll do better
+if you don&rsquo;t tell me about the theory, and I just
+see the way it works.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Could be,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;There are lots of old-time
+fishermen and other fine sailors who have
+absolutely no idea of how their boats work, and
+who wouldn&rsquo;t know a law of physics or a principle
+of aerodynamics if it sat on their mastheads and
+yelled at them like a sea gull! They just do what
+comes naturally, and they know the way to handle
+a boat without worrying about what makes it
+run.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Still heading on their downwind course, they
+passed several small islands and rocks, some
+marked with lights and towers, some with bells
+or floating buoys. They seemed to slide by gracefully
+as the little sloop left the mainland farther
+behind in its wake.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Before we get out of the channel,&rdquo; Jerry said,
+&ldquo;I want to show you some of the channel markers
+and tell you about how to read them. They&rsquo;re the
+road signs of the harbors, and if you know what
+they mean and what to do about them, you&rsquo;ll
+never get in any trouble when it comes to finding
+your way in and out of a port.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_55">55</div>
+<p>He pointed to a nearby marker that was shaped
+like a pointed rocket nose cone floating in the
+water. It was painted a bright red, and on its side
+in white was painted a large number 4.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s called a nun buoy,&rdquo; Jerry told Sandy.
+&ldquo;Now look over there. Do you see that black buoy
+shaped just like an oversized tin can? That&rsquo;s called
+a can buoy. The cans and the nuns mark the
+limits of the channel, and they tell you to steer
+between them. The rule is, when you&rsquo;re leaving
+a harbor, to keep the red nun buoys on your port
+side. That&rsquo;s the left side. When you&rsquo;re entering
+a harbor, keep the red nun buoys on your starboard
+side. The best way to remember it is by the
+three R&rsquo;s of offshore navigating: &lsquo;Red Right Returning.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy nodded. &ldquo;I understand that all right,&rdquo;
+he said. &ldquo;But what are the numbers for?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The numbers are to tell you how far from the
+harbor you are,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;Red nun buoys are
+always even-numbered, and black cans are always
+odd-numbered. They run in regular sequence,
+and they start from the farthest buoy out from
+the shore. For example, we just sailed past red nun
+buoy number 4. That means that the next can we
+see will be marked number 3, and it will be
+followed by a number 2 nun and a number 1 can.
+After we pass the number 1 can, we&rsquo;ll be completely
+out of the channel, and we&rsquo;ll have open
+water to sail in.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_56">56</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Do they have the same kind of markers everywhere,&rdquo;
+Sandy asked, &ldquo;or do you have to learn
+them specially for each port that you sail in?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll find the same marks in almost every
+place in the world,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;But you won&rsquo;t
+have to worry about the world for a long while.
+The important thing is that the marking and
+buoyage system is the same exact standard for
+every port in the United States and Canada.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s that striped can I see floating over
+there?&rdquo; Sandy asked, pointing.</p>
+<p>Jerry looked at the buoy. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s a special
+marker,&rdquo; he answered. &ldquo;All of the striped buoys
+have some special meaning, and it&rsquo;s usually
+marked on the charts. They&rsquo;re mostly used to
+mark a junction of two channels, or a middle
+ground, or an obstruction of some kind. You can
+sail to either side of them, but you shouldn&rsquo;t go
+too close. At least that&rsquo;s the rule for the horizontally
+striped ones. The markers with vertical
+stripes show the middle of the channel, and you&rsquo;re
+supposed to pass them as close as you can, on
+either side.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_57">57</div>
+<p>Another few minutes of sailing brought them
+past the last red buoy, and they were clear of the
+marked channel. From here on they were free to
+sail as they wanted, in any direction they chose to
+try.</p>
+<p>For the next hour they practiced reaching.
+With the wind blowing steadily from the starboard
+side, the trim sloop leaned far to the port
+until the waves were creaming almost up to the
+level of the deck. Jerry explained that this leaning
+position, called &ldquo;heeling,&rdquo; was the natural and
+proper way for a sailboat to sit in the water. The
+only way that a boat could sail level, he pointed
+out, was before the wind. With the boat heeling
+sharply and the sails and the rigging pulled tight
+in the brisk breeze, Sandy really began to feel the
+sense of speed on the water, and understood what
+Jerry had told him about speed being relative.</p>
+<p>After they had practiced on a few long reaches,
+Jerry showed Sandy how to beat or point, which
+is the art of sailing more or less straight into the
+wind.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Of course you can&rsquo;t ever sail straight into the
+wind,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;The best you can do is come
+close. If you head right into it, the sails will just
+flap around the way that they did when we were
+pointing into the wind at the mooring. You&rsquo;ve got
+to sail a little to one side.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_58">58</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Suppose you don&rsquo;t want to go to one side?&rdquo;
+Sandy asked. &ldquo;If the wind is blowing straight from
+the place you want to get to, what do you do
+about it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You have to compromise,&rdquo; Jerry replied.
+&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll never get there by aiming the boat in that
+direction. What you have to do is sail for a point
+to one side of it for a while, then come about and
+sail for a point on the other side of it for a while.
+It&rsquo;s a kind of long zigzag course. You call it tacking.
+Each leg of the zigzag is called a tack.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sailing into the wind, they tacked first on one
+side, then on the other. Each time they came
+about onto a new tack, the mainsail was shifted to
+the other side of the boat, and the boat heeled in
+the same direction as the sail. The jib came
+about by itself, just by loosening one sheet and
+taking up on the other one. Soon Sandy was used
+to the continual shifting and resetting of the sails,
+and to the boom passing back and forth overhead.</p>
+<p>Suddenly Sandy pointed and clapped Jerry on
+the shoulder with excitement. &ldquo;Look!&rdquo; he cried.
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s a whole fleet of boats coming this way!
+They look just like ours! And they&rsquo;re racing!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_59">59</div>
+<p>Jerry looked up in surprise. &ldquo;They sure are
+racing! And they are just like this one! I guess I
+was wrong when I said they didn&rsquo;t race this kind
+of boat. This must be a local class, built to specifications
+for local race rules. Boy, look at them go!
+I was wrong about not racing them, but I sure was
+right when I said that she looked fast!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The fleet of sloops swept past, heeling sharply
+to one side, with the crews perched on the high
+sides as live ballast, and the water foaming white
+along the low decks which were washed over completely
+every moment or so. The helmsmen on the
+nearest of the boats grinned at them and waved
+an invitation to come along and join the regatta,
+but neither Jerry nor Sandy felt quite up to sailing
+a race just yet.</p>
+<p>As they watched their white-sailed sisters fly
+down the bay, Sandy felt for the first time the excitement
+that could come from handling a boat
+really well. He turned to his own trim craft with
+renewed determination to learn everything that
+Jerry could teach him, and maybe, in due time,
+a whole lot more than that.</p>
+<p>The next few hours were spent in happily exploring
+Cliffport Bay and trying the sloop on a
+variety of tacks and courses to learn what she
+would do. Eventually, the sun standing high above
+the mast, they realized almost at the same time
+that it was definitely time for lunch.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_60">60</div>
+<p>Jerry took the helm and the sheet while Sandy
+went below to see what the boat&rsquo;s food locker
+could supply. In a few minutes, he poked his head
+out of the cabin hatch and shook it sadly at Jerry.
+&ldquo;It looks as if Uncle Russ didn&rsquo;t think of everything,
+after all. There&rsquo;s plenty of food all right,
+but there&rsquo;s not a thing on board to drink. The
+water jugs are here, but they&rsquo;re bone-dry, and I&rsquo;m
+not exactly up to eating peanut butter sandwiches
+without something to wash them down!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Me either!&rdquo; said Jerry, shuddering a little at
+the thought. &ldquo;Of course, we could settle on some
+of the juice from the canned fruits I saw in there,
+but we haven&rsquo;t taken on any ice for our ice chest,
+and that&rsquo;s all going to be pretty warm. In any
+case, we ought to have some water on board. I
+think we&rsquo;d better look for a likely place near
+shore where we can drop anchor. Then we can
+take the dinghy in to one of the beach houses and
+fill up our jugs.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good idea,&rdquo; Sandy agreed. &ldquo;And that way we
+can eat while we&rsquo;re at anchor, and not have to
+worry about sailing and eating at the same time.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_61">61</div>
+<p>Several small islands not too far away had
+houses on them, and the boys decided to set a
+course for the nearest one. As they drew near,
+they saw a sunny white house sitting on the crest
+of a small rise about a hundred yards back from
+the water. Below the house, a well-protected and
+pleasant-looking cove offered a good place for an
+anchorage. A floating dock was secured to a high
+stone pier, from which a path could be seen leading
+up to the house. It looked like an almost perfect
+summer place, set in broad green lawns, with
+several old shade trees near the house and with a
+general atmosphere of well-being radiating from
+everything.</p>
+<p>They glided straight into the little cove, then
+suddenly put the rudder over hard and brought
+the sloop sharply up into the wind. The sails
+flapped loosely, and the boat lost some of its headway,
+then glided slowly to a stop.</p>
+<p>On the bow, Sandy stood ready with the anchor,
+waiting for Jerry to tell him when to lower it. As
+the boat began to move a little astern, backing in
+the headwind, Jerry told Sandy to let the anchor
+down slowly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You never drop an anchor, or throw it over the
+side. After all, you want the anchor to tip over,
+and to drive a hook into the bottom. It won&rsquo;t do
+that if it&rsquo;s just dropped.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_62">62</div>
+<p>When Sandy felt the anchor touch the bottom,
+he pulled back gently on the anchor line until he
+felt the hook take hold. Then, leading the line
+through the fair lead at the bow, he tied it securely
+to a cleat on the deck.</p>
+<p>Loosening the halyards, they dropped first the
+jib and then the mainsail, rolled them neatly, and
+secured them with strips of sailcloth, called stops.
+Jerry pointed out that it was not necessary to
+remove the slides and snaps. That way, he explained,
+it would only be a matter of minutes to
+get under way when they wanted to. With the last
+stop tied and the boom and the rudder lashed to
+keep them from swinging, the sloop was all shipshape
+at anchor, rocking gently on the swell about
+fifty yards from the end of the floating dock.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s row the dinghy in to the dock and see if
+we can find somebody on shore,&rdquo; Jerry suggested.
+&ldquo;Of course, with no boats in here, there might not
+be anyone on the island right now, but I think
+that I saw a well up by the house, and I&rsquo;m sure
+that no one would mind if we helped ourselves to
+a little water.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_63">63</div>
+<p>But Jerry was wrong on both counts. There
+was somebody on the island, and he looked far
+from hospitable. In fact, the tall man who came
+striding down the path to the float where the
+boys already had the dinghy headed was carrying a
+rifle&mdash;and, what was more, he looked perfectly
+ready to use it at any minute!</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Turn back!&rdquo; he shouted, as he reached the
+edge of the stone pier. &ldquo;Turn back, I tell you,
+or I&rsquo;ll shoot that dinghy full of holes and sink it
+right out from under you!&rdquo; He raised the rifle
+deliberately to his shoulder and sighted down its
+length at the boys.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Wait a minute!&rdquo; Sandy shouted back. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re
+making a mistake! We just need to get some water
+to drink! We don&rsquo;t mean any harm!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The man lowered his rifle, but looked no
+friendlier than before. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t care what you
+want,&rdquo; he called, &ldquo;but you can just sail off and get
+it some other place! This is my island and my
+cove. They&rsquo;re both private property, and you&rsquo;re
+trespassing here! Now turn that dinghy around
+and get back to your sailboat and go!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This speech finished, he raised his rifle to the
+firing position once more and aimed it at the
+dinghy.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_64">64</div>
+<p>&ldquo;All right, mister!&rdquo; Jerry yelled back at him.
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll get going! But when we get back to the
+mainland, you can bet that we&rsquo;re going to report
+you to the Coast Guard for your failure to give
+assistance! I&rsquo;m not sure what they can do about it,
+but they sure ought to know that there&rsquo;s a character
+like you around here! Maybe they&rsquo;ll mark it
+on the charts, so that sailors in trouble won&rsquo;t waste
+their time coming in here for help!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As the boys started to turn the dinghy about,
+they heard a shout from the man on the pier.
+&ldquo;Wait a minute!&rdquo; he called. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s no need to
+get so upset. I&rsquo;m sorry&mdash;but I guess I made a mistake
+after all. Row on in to the float and I&rsquo;ll get
+you some water.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Not at all sure that they were doing the wisest
+thing, but not wanting to anger the strange rifleman
+by not doing what he had suggested, they
+decided to risk coming to shore. After all, Sandy
+reasoned, he hadn&rsquo;t actually threatened to shoot
+<i>them</i>&mdash;just the dinghy&mdash;and he couldn&rsquo;t do much
+more harm from close up than from where they
+were. Besides, both boys were curious about the
+man and his island. They rowed to the floating
+dock and made the dinghy fast to a cleat.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_65">65</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sorry, boys,&rdquo; the man with the rifle said
+pleasantly. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s just that I&rsquo;ve been bothered in
+the past by kids landing here for picnics and
+swimming parties when I&rsquo;m not here. They leave
+the beach a mess, and one gang actually broke
+into the house once, and stole some things. That&rsquo;s
+why I don&rsquo;t like kids coming around. I thought
+you were more of the same, but I figured you were
+all right when you said that you&rsquo;d report to the
+Coast Guard. Those other kids stay as far away
+from the Coast Guard and the Harbor Police as
+they can.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He smiled apologetically, but as Sandy started
+to climb up from the dinghy to the floating dock,
+his expression hardened once more.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I said that I&rsquo;d get you some water,&rdquo; he said,
+&ldquo;but I didn&rsquo;t invite you to come ashore and help
+yourselves to it. You just stay right where you are
+in that dinghy, and hand me up your water jars.
+I&rsquo;ll fill them up for you, and I&rsquo;ll be back in a few
+minutes.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>More than a little puzzled, Jerry and Sandy
+handed up their two soft plastic gallon jugs. Their
+&ldquo;host&rdquo; took them under one arm, leaving the
+other hand free for his rifle which he carried with
+a finger lying alongside of the trigger. Without a
+word, the island&rsquo;s owner walked off.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I wonder what&rsquo;s the matter with him,&rdquo; Jerry
+said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; Sandy replied, &ldquo;but whatever
+it is, we&rsquo;d better do what he says, or something
+pretty bad might be the matter with us!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Halfway up the path to the house, the tall
+man stopped, turned back, and looked hard at
+the boys before continuing on up the hill.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_66">66</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Mind you do just what I said!&rdquo; he shouted
+back over his shoulder. &ldquo;You just stay in that
+dinghy, and don&rsquo;t get any fancy ideas about exploring
+around. If I find you ashore, I&rsquo;m still as
+ready as ever to use this gun!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_67">67</div>
+<h2 id="c5"><span class="small">CHAPTER FIVE</span>
+<br />Storm Fears</h2>
+<p>Unpredictable as the wind, the man was all
+smiles when he returned with the two jars filled
+with water. But he still had his gun.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m glad to see you stayed put in your dinghy,&rdquo;
+he said. &ldquo;I kept an eye on you from the hill.&rdquo; He
+handed down the plastic jugs to Sandy and added,
+&ldquo;Sorry I acted so gruff, but you know how it is.
+I live all alone out here, and even though the
+island is only a little over a half mile from the
+mainland it&rsquo;s a pretty isolated spot. I have to be
+careful of strangers. But I should have seen right
+away that you boys are all right.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Thanks,&rdquo; said Sandy. &ldquo;And thanks for filling
+our water jugs. We&rsquo;re sorry we bothered you.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_68">68</div>
+<p>They cast the dinghy free, rowed quickly back
+to the sloop and, as fast as they could manage it,
+raised the anchor, hoisted the sails and skimmed
+out of the cove. As they rounded the rocky point
+that marked the entrance to the cove, they looked
+back to where the island&rsquo;s lone inhabitant was
+standing on the dock, watching them out of sight,
+his rifle still held ready at his hip.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Boy, that&rsquo;s a strange one!&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;I
+wonder what he&rsquo;s hiding on that island of his&mdash;a
+diamond mine?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You never can tell,&rdquo; Jerry replied, &ldquo;but it&rsquo;s
+probably nothing at all. I guess the kind of man
+who would want to live all alone on an island
+away from people is bound to be pretty crazy about
+getting all the privacy he can. And as far as I&rsquo;m
+concerned, he can have it. From now on, if we
+need anything, let&rsquo;s head for the mainland!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Dismissing the mysterious rifleman from their
+minds, they set out once more to enjoy the pleasures
+of a brisk wind, blue sky and a trim boat.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_69">69</div>
+<p>The afternoon went swiftly by as Sandy learned
+more and more about handling his boat, and about
+the boats they saw sailing near them. Jerry pointed
+out the different types of boats, explaining more
+fully than before that the ones with one mast were
+called sloops, the two-masted boats were called
+yawls, ketches and schooners. Telling one from the
+other was a matter of knowing the arrangement
+of masts. The ketches had tall mainmasts and
+shorter mizzens behind them. The yawls had even
+shorter mizzens, set as far aft as possible. Schooners,
+with taller mizzen than main, were relatively rare.</p>
+<p>Jerry also pointed to varied types of one-masted
+boats. Not all of them, he told Sandy, were
+sloops, though most were. The sloops had their
+mast stepped about one third back from the bow.
+Cutters had their mast stepped nearly in the center
+of the boat. In addition, they saw a few catboats,
+with their single masts stepped nearly in the bows.</p>
+<p>Learning all this, plus trying to absorb all
+that Jerry was telling him about harbor markers,
+sail handling, steering, types of sails and conditions
+under which each sail is used, Sandy found
+the time flying by. Almost before he realized it,
+the sun was beginning to set and the boats around
+them were all heading back up the channel to
+find their moorings and tie up for the night.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_70">70</div>
+<p>Everywhere they looked, the roadstead of Cliffport
+Bay was as busy as a highway. Sailboats of
+every description, outboard motorboats, big cabin
+cruisers, high-powered motor racers, rowboats,
+canoes, sailing canoes, kayaks, power runabouts,
+fishing excursion boats and dozens of other craft
+were making their way to shore.</p>
+<p>The afternoon, which had started so brightly,
+had become overcast, and the sun glowed sullenly
+behind a low bank of clouds. The breeze which
+had been steady but light during the late afternoon
+hours, suddenly picked up force and became
+a fairly hard wind. It felt cold and damp after the
+hot day. Joining the homebound pleasure fleet,
+Sandy and Jerry picked their way through the now
+crowded harbor, back to Cliffport Boat Yard.</p>
+<p>They arrived in a murky twilight, just a few
+minutes before the time when it would have become
+necessary for them to light the lanterns for
+the red and green running lights demanded by
+the International Rules of the Road.</p>
+<p>The boys decided to drop anchor in the boat
+yard&rsquo;s mooring area, rather than tow the boat back
+to the float where it had been tied. This would
+make it unnecessary to tow the sloop out again
+for the next day&rsquo;s sailing, when they would start
+on the long trip home.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_71">71</div>
+<p>They dropped the sails, removed their slides
+and snaps on mast, boom and forestay, and carefully
+folded them for replacement in the sail bags.
+These were stowed below in their locker just
+forward of the cabin. Then Sandy and Jerry
+turned their attention to getting the boat ready
+for the night.</p>
+<p>Sandy helped Jerry rest the boom in its
+&ldquo;crutch,&rdquo; a piece of wood shaped like the letter
+<i>Y</i>, which was placed standing upright in a slot
+in the stern seat. This kept the boom from swinging
+loose when the boat was unattended, and thus
+protected both the boat, the boom and the rigging
+from damage. All the running gear was then
+lashed down or coiled and put away, the sliding
+cabin door and hatch cover were closed in place,
+and the sloop was ready to be left.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s what&rsquo;s meant by &lsquo;shipshape,&rsquo;&rdquo; Jerry
+said with satisfaction.</p>
+<p>As the boys rowed the dinghy back to the float,
+they felt the first fat drops of rain and they
+noticed how choppy the still waters of the bay
+had become. Jerry cast a sailor&rsquo;s eye at the ominously
+darkening sky.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s more than evening coming on,&rdquo; he
+said. &ldquo;Unless I miss my guess, we&rsquo;re in for a good
+storm tonight. To tell you the truth, I&rsquo;m glad
+we&rsquo;re staying ashore!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_72">72</div>
+<p>They lifted the dinghy from the water, turned
+it over on the float and placed the stubby oars
+below it. Then, picking up their sea bags, they
+ran for the shelter of the shed as the first torrential
+downpour of the storm washed Cliffport in a solid
+sheet of blinding rain.</p>
+<p class="tb">Later that night, after a change of clothes,
+dinner, and a movie at Cliffport&rsquo;s only theater,
+the boys sat on their beds in the hotel room and
+listened to the howling fury of the storm. Raindrops
+rattled on the windowpanes like hailstones,
+and through the tossing branches of a tree they
+could see the riding lights of a few boats in the
+harbor, rocking violently to and fro. As they
+watched, the wind sent a large barrel bowling
+down the street to smash against a light pole,
+bounce off and roll, erratic as a kicked football,
+out of sight around a corner.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a good thing we anchored out,&rdquo; Jerry said,
+watching this evidence of the storm&rsquo;s power. &ldquo;The
+boat could really have gotten banged up against
+the float if we had tied it up where it was before!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you think it&rsquo;ll be safe where it is now?&rdquo;
+Sandy asked anxiously.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, a little wind and water won&rsquo;t bother a
+good boat,&rdquo; Jerry answered. &ldquo;After all, it was
+made for wind and water! Still....&rdquo; He scowled
+and shook his head doubtfully.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_73">73</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Still what?&rdquo; Sandy said with alarm. &ldquo;Is there
+something wrong with the way we left it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not really,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m just worried
+about one thing. We&rsquo;re not tied to a permanent
+mooring, the way the other boats around here
+are. That means that we might drag anchor in a
+storm as bad as this one, and if we happen to drag
+into deep water where the anchor can&rsquo;t reach the
+bottom, the boat could drift a long ways off until
+it hooked onto something again. And there&rsquo;s always
+the chance that it could get washed up on the
+rocks somewhere, first!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>With this unhappy thought in mind, the boys
+stared out the window for some time in silence
+as the storm continued unchecked. Finally, knowing
+that worry couldn&rsquo;t possibly help, and that a
+good night&rsquo;s sleep would prepare them to meet
+whatever the morning would bring, they turned
+out the lights and went to bed.</p>
+<p>But, for Sandy, bed was one thing&mdash;sleep was
+another. Although Jerry managed to drop off to
+slumber in no time, Sandy lay a long time awake
+staring at the shadows of the tossing tree on the
+ceiling of the hotel room.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_74">74</div>
+<p>His mind was full of the events of the crowded
+day. It had been quite a day, starting with the
+ride in his uncle&rsquo;s sports car, and proceeding to
+the new boat and learning to sail. Then the mysterious
+man on the island, keeping guard with his
+ever-present rifle, and concluding with a night
+of powerful storm. He reviewed all this, and mixed
+with his recollection his new worries about the
+safety of his boat. A series of images crowded his
+mind&mdash;a vision of the smart sloop lying smashed
+against some rocky piece of shore was mingled
+with a memory of the pleasures of his first day of
+sailing; and somewhere, behind and around all of
+his thoughts, was the unpleasantly frightening
+memory of the man with the gun, waiting on his
+hermit&rsquo;s island.</p>
+<p>All of this mingled in his mind with the sound
+of the storm until Sandy slipped into an uncertain,
+restless sleep&mdash;a sleep filled with vague, shadowy
+dreams, connected only by a sense that somewhere,
+something was wrong.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_75">75</div>
+<h2 id="c6"><span class="small">CHAPTER SIX</span>
+<br />Something Lost&mdash;Something Found!</h2>
+<p>The next morning, when Sandy and Jerry awoke,
+the storm that had lashed Cliffport had vanished
+as if it, too, had been a bad dream.</p>
+<p>Cliffport&rsquo;s Main Street, which fronted the bay,
+was washed clean, and sparkled in the bright
+morning light. The bay waters themselves even
+looked cleaner than before, freshly laundered
+blue and white, with silver points of sunlight
+sprinkled over their peaceful surface. It was, in
+short, a perfect sailing day, and the boys could
+hardly wait to get down to the boat yard to see if
+the sloop had ridden the storm at anchor.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_76">76</div>
+<p>They dressed hurriedly in their sailing clothes&mdash;blue
+jeans, sneakers and sweat shirts&mdash;and bolted
+breakfast in the hotel coffee shop. Then, sea bags
+slung over their shoulders, they raced down the
+street to the Cliffport Boat Yard, rounded the
+corner of the main shed and, at the head of the
+gangway, came to a stop.</p>
+<p>Sandy felt a sick, sinking feeling as he scanned
+the mooring area, searching vainly for a sight of
+his sloop. But where she had ridden at anchor the
+night before, there was only a patch of calm blue
+water.</p>
+<p>It hardly seemed possible that she wasn&rsquo;t there.
+The storm, on this bright, sunny morning, seemed
+never to have happened. Other boats rode peacefully
+at their moorings, apparently untouched by
+the night&rsquo;s wild work. Life in the boat yard and
+on the bay went on as if nothing had occurred. But
+Sandy felt as if it were the end of the world.</p>
+<p>Slowly and silently, the boys walked down the
+gangway to where their dinghy lay like a turtle,
+unharmed. They anxiously scanned the bay on
+all sides, searching for a mast that might be theirs,
+but to no avail. Then Jerry straightened up and
+clapped Sandy on the shoulder.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come on,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s no use standing
+here moping. The only thing to do now is to take
+out the dinghy and start to hunt.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_77">77</div>
+<p>They launched the dinghy, put out the stubby
+oars, and rowed away from the float.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Where do we look first?&rdquo; Sandy asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll just go the way the wind went,&rdquo; Jerry
+said. &ldquo;Luckily, the storm came from the mainland
+and blew out to sea. That means there&rsquo;s a
+good chance that the boat didn&rsquo;t pile up on the
+shore. Of course, there are a lot of islands out
+there, and plenty of rocks, but there&rsquo;s a lot more
+open water. With any luck we&rsquo;ll find her floating
+safe and sound, somewhere out in the bay. I don&rsquo;t
+think she could have gone too far dragging that
+anchor.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They headed down the channel, taking occasional
+side excursions around some of the small
+islands whenever they saw, on the other side, a
+mast that could be theirs. But none of the boats
+they found was the right one. The hot sun made
+rowing even the light cockleshell of the dinghy
+unpleasant work. Sandy paused at the oars and
+pushed back his cowlick, then wiped his perspiring
+brow. He was beginning to fear that he would
+never again see his trim new sloop&mdash;unless he was
+to see it lying shattered on one of these rocky
+islands. Then, with dogged determination, he
+picked up his oars once more and bent his back
+to the task of rowing.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_78">78</div>
+<p>Once or twice they asked passing sailors if they
+had seen an unattended sloop out of the mooring
+areas, but though everyone offered sympathy and
+promised to help if they happened to see it, none
+had any information to offer.</p>
+<p>The morning wore on slowly as Sandy and Jerry
+pulled farther and farther away from the mainland,
+exploring every possible hiding place the
+bay had to offer.</p>
+<p>By noon, Sandy&rsquo;s spirits were at low ebb, and he
+was beginning to wonder how he would tell his
+Uncle Russ the bad news. Then, almost tipping
+the unsteady dinghy, Jerry half rose from his seat
+and pointed. &ldquo;Look!&rdquo; he shouted. &ldquo;Over there! I
+think that&rsquo;s her! And will you look at where she
+drifted to!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy dropped the oars and turned to look at
+the small white sloop with the green decks that
+lay quietly bobbing at anchor just outside the
+entrance of the cove where, yesterday, they had
+been welcomed by a gun!</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Of all places to drift to,&rdquo; he gasped. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s a
+darn good thing she didn&rsquo;t drift inside his cove,
+or she might be shot full of holes by now!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_79">79</div>
+<p>Then, with a lighter heart than he had felt all
+morning, Sandy picked up the oars and sent the
+dinghy fairly flying to the side of the trim sloop.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;From now on,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;sleeping bags and air
+mattresses or not, we&rsquo;re sleeping on board until
+we get a permanent mooring for this boat near
+home!&rdquo; Relieved and happy, Sandy climbed on
+board as Jerry tied the dinghy to the stern.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll go below to get the sails out,&rdquo; Sandy said,
+&ldquo;while you unship the boom and get the rigging
+ready.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He opened the hatch cover and slid back the
+doors, then stepped down into the little cabin.
+As he started forward to the sail lockers, he had a
+sudden, odd feeling that something was wrong,
+something out of place; a strange notion that he
+had seen, out of the corner of his eye, something
+that was not what it should have been.</p>
+<p>Pausing to look around, he saw what had
+bothered him. Clamped to the bulkhead over the
+port bunk was a large, oddly shaped brass pistol,
+like the kind he had always imagined the old-time
+pirates carried. He had never seen anything like
+it before&mdash;and he was almost positive that it had
+not been there yesterday!</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_80">80</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Jerry!&rdquo; he called, sticking his head out of the
+hatch. &ldquo;Come here! I want you to see something
+and tell me what you think.&rdquo; As Jerry poked his
+head into the cabin, Sandy gestured at the brass
+pistol. &ldquo;Was that thing here yesterday, or have
+we gotten into somebody else&rsquo;s boat?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jerry brought his dark brows together in a
+frown and scratched his crew-cut head. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t
+think it was here. I probably would have noticed
+it. But maybe we just didn&rsquo;t see it. We were so
+busy with other things.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But why would Uncle Russ have left a pistol
+on board?&rdquo; Sandy asked, puzzled.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He probably wouldn&rsquo;t have,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;But
+he might have left one of these. That&rsquo;s a flare gun,
+not a regular pistol at all. You use it as a signal
+of distress. It shoots a rocket. Still ... I don&rsquo;t
+remember seeing it. And I know that your uncle
+didn&rsquo;t mention leaving one.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, I don&rsquo;t know whether he did or not,&rdquo;
+Sandy said, &ldquo;but we&rsquo;d better make sure this is
+our boat before we go sailing it off. If it belongs to
+that guy on the island, we could get into some
+pretty bad trouble if we took it by mistake!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As they looked for some identifying marks, an
+idea suddenly occurred to Sandy. &ldquo;Maybe this isn&rsquo;t
+our boat, but one just like it, and maybe the man
+with the gun was expecting it with somebody else
+on board! That might explain his actions!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_81">81</div>
+<p>&ldquo;That makes sense,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;And in that
+case, we&rsquo;d better find out fast if it&rsquo;s ours. Look&mdash;our
+boat didn&rsquo;t have any name on it, and most
+boats do. If this has a name, we&rsquo;ll know.&rdquo; He
+hurried to the stern to see, and then to the bow,
+where some boat owners fasten name plates, but
+none was to be seen.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That doesn&rsquo;t prove anything, though,&rdquo; Sandy
+said. &ldquo;But I have an idea. Let&rsquo;s look in the food
+locker. I remember pretty well what was in there
+yesterday, and I doubt if two boats would have
+the identical food supplies. One look should tell
+us.&rdquo; He reached above the galley stove and slid
+back the doors of the locker, then stepped backward
+as if he had been hit.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s sure not our boat,&rdquo; Sandy said in hushed
+tones, for in the locker there was no food at all.
+Instead, where food should have been, was what
+appeared to be a fortune in fresh, green money!</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_82">82</div>
+<h2 id="c7"><span class="small">CHAPTER SEVEN</span>
+<br />A Million Dollars&rsquo; Worth of Trouble</h2>
+<p>Sandy and Jerry, stunned for the moment, stood
+in silence, gazing at the neatly wrapped stacks of
+tens, twenties, fifties, hundreds and five-hundred-dollar
+bills&mdash;more money than either of them
+had ever dreamed of!</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know whose boat this is,&rdquo; Sandy said,
+&ldquo;but whoever he is, he can sure afford a larger
+one!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Awed by the sight of the money, Jerry reached
+out and slipped a five-hundred-dollar bill from its
+wrapper. &ldquo;I just want to look at it for a minute,&rdquo;
+he said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve never seen a five-hundred before!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_83">83</div>
+<p>Sandy joined him to look at the crisp bill.
+&ldquo;Neither have I,&rdquo; he said. Then, stooping to look
+closer, he took the bill from Jerry&rsquo;s hand and
+examined it with the most intense interest.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Jerry!&rdquo; he said, almost in a whisper. &ldquo;I think
+we&rsquo;ve found more than a stack of money in a
+peculiar place! I may be mistaken, but I think this
+thing is counterfeit!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Counterfeit!&rdquo; Jerry said, with a gasp. &ldquo;How
+can you tell, if you never saw a five-hundred-dollar
+bill before?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come on over into the sunlight where we can
+see better,&rdquo; Sandy replied, &ldquo;and I&rsquo;ll show you what
+I mean.&rdquo; They moved to the rear of the little
+cabin, where the sun poured in through the open
+hatchway cover. Sandy held the money up to the
+light.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Look at the corners,&rdquo; he said, pointing to the
+lower right-hand corner of the bill. &ldquo;You see all
+those fine hair lines that make the looping, criss-cross
+pattern you see on all paper money? Well, I
+read once that those loops and swirls are the hardest
+part of a bill to counterfeit, and if you&rsquo;re on
+the lookout for phony money you should always
+look there first. Ones or one-thousands, they&rsquo;re all
+very complicated to engrave. On a genuine bill the
+lines are sharp and clear. On a counterfeit, they&rsquo;re
+usually a little fuzzy, especially where two lines
+cross. Look over here, right next to the five-hundred-dollar
+mark, for instance.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_84">84</div>
+<p>He pointed to where a complicated series of
+fine lines that came together had made a small
+smear, instead of a sharp, well-defined pattern.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;d never find sloppy work like that on a
+genuine government bill,&rdquo; Sandy said, pointing
+to this and to another telltale spot his sharp eyes
+had uncovered.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I see what you mean,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;Boy, there
+must be more than a million dollars&rsquo; worth of this
+useless stuff in that food locker!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s not so useless to someone,&rdquo; Sandy returned.
+&ldquo;Whoever made this stuff and is responsible for it
+is sure making real money out of it in the end&mdash;and
+an awful lot of real money, too!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jerry nodded thoughtfully, then said, &ldquo;Where
+do you suppose it&rsquo;s coming from?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That shouldn&rsquo;t be too hard to figure out,&rdquo;
+Sandy answered. &ldquo;That man on the island was
+pretty nervous about having any unexpected
+guests, I&rsquo;d say. I&rsquo;ll bet you this whole stack of
+money that he&rsquo;s behind the whole thing, and that
+this is his boat that we&rsquo;re on!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_85">85</div>
+<p>&ldquo;You must be right,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;From the way
+that he came racing down that path with his gun
+yesterday, he must have been watching us all
+along, yet he didn&rsquo;t come to stop us until we had
+dropped our anchor, lowered our sails, and were
+halfway in to shore in the dinghy! We should have
+realized when he didn&rsquo;t stop us sooner what that
+meant. It meant that something funny was going
+on here!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s right!&rdquo; Sandy agreed. &ldquo;He must have
+been expecting somebody else to come along in
+this boat&mdash;the same class and colors as ours&mdash;and
+he thought that we were whoever he was expecting&mdash;until
+he saw us in the dinghy! That&rsquo;s why he
+was acting so confused and excited that he didn&rsquo;t
+know whether to shoot at us, or to be nice and let
+us get our water and be on our way. We really
+caught him off guard!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Right,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;And now we&rsquo;ve confused
+the boats the same way he did, and we&rsquo;ve caught
+him off guard again!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy sat looking silently at the counterfeit five-hundred-dollar
+bill, frowning. Then he looked up
+at his friend and said, &ldquo;The question now is, what
+are we going to do about it? We&rsquo;re pretty lucky
+that we weren&rsquo;t seen coming on board this boat,
+but do you think our luck is going to last? I&rsquo;m
+worried that we won&rsquo;t be able to get away from
+here again without being seen.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_86">86</div>
+<p>&ldquo;We haven&rsquo;t got much choice in the matter,
+have we?&rdquo; Jerry answered. &ldquo;The longer we stay
+here, the worse our chances will be. There&rsquo;s no
+telling when the man with the gun or somebody
+else will come out here to do something with this
+money, and if they find us here....&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;d sure hate to cross that fellow,&rdquo; Sandy
+agreed. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t like the way he handles that rifle
+of his. He looks too darn ready to use it!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Stuffing the counterfeit five-hundred-dollar bill
+into his pocket, Sandy stood up. &ldquo;We&rsquo;d better get
+going now, while we still have a chance,&rdquo; he said.
+&ldquo;The only thing to do now is to get this bill to
+the police as evidence of what we&rsquo;ve found, and
+to put them on to this island.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy started up from the cabin but, as his head
+emerged from the hatchway, he stopped dead in
+his tracks, for floating in a dinghy just a few feet
+away was the mysterious owner of the island accompanied
+by two tough-looking sailors! Sandy
+looked in dismay from their three faces to the
+muzzles of three guns pointed directly at him!</p>
+<p>It was not a pleasant smile that the man from
+the island gave him as he said, &ldquo;Well! This is quite
+a surprise for all of us, isn&rsquo;t it? Are you still looking
+for water? Or do you have a better story to
+entertain me with today?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_87">87</div>
+<h2 id="c8"><span class="small">CHAPTER EIGHT</span>
+<br />Double Blackout</h2>
+<p>Sandy tried his hardest to look unknowing and
+innocent, and at the same time shocked and outraged.
+With the three guns aimed at him, it was
+not an easy job.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s the idea?&rdquo; he exclaimed. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve never
+seen anybody so ready with a gun as you are! We
+were only looking for our boat. You know it looks
+the same as yours. We thought for a while that
+this was it, but....&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_88">88</div>
+<p>&ldquo;But you found out, after some thorough
+snooping, that it wasn&rsquo;t, didn&rsquo;t you?&rdquo; the man
+sneered. &ldquo;Of course you did. It&rsquo;s my boat, all right!
+And you&rsquo;re trespassing on it! And this is my island
+too, and you were trespassing there yesterday!
+And if I were to shoot you, I would be perfectly
+within my rights as a landowner!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy tried with difficulty to smile reassuringly.
+&ldquo;Take it easy, mister,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Honestly, we
+were just looking for our boat. It dragged anchor
+in the storm last night, and when we saw yours
+we made a natural mistake and thought it was
+ours. Okay, it isn&rsquo;t. We made a mistake, that&rsquo;s all.
+Now if you&rsquo;ll just let us apologize, we&rsquo;ll get off
+your private property and go looking again.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>But the man didn&rsquo;t show the slightest intention
+of even moving his rifle from the ready, much
+less of letting the boys go.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Of course you&rsquo;ll go looking again,&rdquo; he said.
+&ldquo;Looking for what you were looking for yesterday
+and today. Oh, no! I hardly think I can let you
+go!&rdquo; Then he smiled his peculiar smile again.
+&ldquo;What&rsquo;s more,&rdquo; he added, &ldquo;even if I were to let
+you go, I would first have to ask you to return the
+money you stole&mdash;the money I see sticking out
+of your pocket!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy&rsquo;s heart sank. There was nothing he could
+think of to say now, and he could see no way out
+of the situation. He sank wearily to a seat in the
+cockpit and sighed.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_89">89</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I guess we can both stop play-acting about this
+trespassing thing,&rdquo; he said. He pulled the telltale
+bill out of his pocket and threw it on the deck.
+&ldquo;This is what you&rsquo;ve been so upset about all along,
+isn&rsquo;t it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re a very bright boy,&rdquo; the man with the
+gun said. &ldquo;Far too bright, I&rsquo;m afraid. You have
+this whole thing figured out already, haven&rsquo;t you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Most of it,&rdquo; Sandy admitted. &ldquo;At least the parts
+that count. You&rsquo;re using this island to make
+counterfeit money, and you&rsquo;re using this sailboat
+to take it somewhere. That&rsquo;s about all I know,
+but it&rsquo;s enough to get you in trouble, isn&rsquo;t it,
+Mr.&mdash;?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Jones is the name,&rdquo; the man said. &ldquo;Yes, I
+would say it was quite enough. The only mistake
+you&rsquo;ve made is your conclusion. What you know is
+enough to get <i>you</i> in trouble&mdash;not me. In fact, I
+should hate to be in as much trouble as you two
+boys are in right now!&rdquo; Jones put down his rifle
+for a moment and said, &ldquo;Do you mind if I come
+on board my boat so that we can discuss your
+difficulties in more comfort?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jones stepped out of the dinghy to the deck of
+the little sloop and settled himself comfortably in
+the stern seat while his two silent crewmen kept
+Sandy covered. When he was set, with his ever-present
+rifle held at ready across his knees, he was
+followed on board by the larger and meaner looking
+of the two sailors, who stationed himself beside Jones.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_90">90</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, yes,&rdquo; Jones repeated, &ldquo;I should say that
+what you know is quite enough! And, since you
+already have too much information to ever let
+you leave here with, I&rsquo;ll be happy to satisfy your
+immense curiosity by giving you a little more. But
+why not have your friend join us on deck?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>When Jerry had come up from the cabin and
+was sitting beside Sandy, Jones cleared his throat,
+as if he were about to give a formal speech.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;As far as you went in your thinking, you are
+most certainly right,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I use this boat to
+transport counterfeit money which I make on my
+island. I take it to a waiting freighter that meets
+me five miles off shore&mdash;well beyond the legal
+jurisdiction of the United States government, in
+international waters. The freighter takes my pretty
+counterfeit money and disposes of it in foreign
+markets, where I get a good price for it, and where
+not every bright and nosy boy is out to make a
+nuisance of himself.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then, once again, Jones smiled his peculiar and
+unpleasant smile. &ldquo;I find the foreign markets most
+useful for disposing of items which are too difficult
+to get rid of here. I expect that you will not
+be much harder to dispose of than this money,
+when you are beyond the limits of U.S. waters!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_91">91</div>
+<p>Sandy looked at Jerry in silence, desperately
+hoping his friend would come up with some flash
+of inspiration&mdash;some idea&mdash;which would help
+them to get out of this situation. But Jerry was no
+help. For that matter, Sandy reflected, he was not
+much help himself. But as long as he kept &ldquo;Jones&rdquo;
+talking, he&rsquo;d get some more information and
+meanwhile, perhaps, he or Jerry might think of
+something.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s only one thing that has me puzzled
+in all this,&rdquo; Sandy said therefore. &ldquo;Why did you
+leave this boat full of money floating around outside
+of the cove?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jones laughed. &ldquo;There you have the full essence
+of our little comedy of errors,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Last
+night&rsquo;s storm probably tore more than one
+hundred boats loose from their anchorages and
+moorings. Yours, I assure you, wasn&rsquo;t the only one
+that drifted a good distance, and neither was
+mine!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yours?&rdquo; Jerry gasped. &ldquo;You mean that our
+boat <i>did</i> drift over this way? And that you&mdash;?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_92">92</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I think you understand,&rdquo; Jones replied. &ldquo;But
+it wasn&rsquo;t I. It was these stupid fools who work
+for me. They had loaded the money on board the
+boat last night before the storm. Then, when it
+blew up, we knew that it was impossible to sail
+to the freighter until the storm had passed. They
+failed to take the money out of the boat for the
+night, trusting to luck that nothing would go
+wrong. But something did go wrong! My boat
+broke loose and floated out around the point to
+where it is now. Your boat drifted up to the
+entrance of my cove. When they came out this
+morning, my assistants saw your boat, and did not
+see mine.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jones laughed a short, sharp laugh. &ldquo;They
+actually sailed your sloop five miles out to the
+freighter! Of course they discovered their mistake
+when they opened the money locker and found it
+full of canned food!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He looked at the sailors with disgust, then continued.
+&ldquo;When they realized their error, they
+promptly sailed back here, but by that time you
+had found my boat and assumed it to be yours.
+When they told me their story, I guessed at once
+what had happened and went to correct the mistake
+before you found out about our little business.
+If you had only come a half hour later, you
+would have found your own boat and sailed it off
+in perfect safety. Unfortunately for you, you were
+just a little too soon.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_93">93</div>
+<p>&ldquo;As long as you&rsquo;re telling us the whole story,&rdquo;
+Jerry said, &ldquo;will you answer a question for me?
+I don&rsquo;t understand why you bother with sailboats,
+when a power boat could do the job so much
+faster.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s a fair question,&rdquo; Jones said. &ldquo;You <i>are</i>
+smart boys, aren&rsquo;t you? Well, I pride myself on
+using my brains, too. I use this innocent-looking
+sloop for several reasons, one of which caused this
+whole ridiculous mix-up. For one thing, an individual
+member of a popular class of sailboat is
+very hard for the casual observer to identify. This
+we have both seen to be true. For another thing,
+everyone thinks of a sailboat as being merely a
+pleasure craft, and would never suspect it of anything
+illegal. It can go in and out of the harbor
+on a regular schedule and nobody will notice
+it or even realize it&rsquo;s the same boat they are
+seeing. Third, all power boats have to be registered
+and licensed by the Coast Guard, while a
+sailboat is so anonymous that it doesn&rsquo;t even have
+to have a name. Fourth, it gives me a reason to
+live on this island. To the people who stop to
+think of me, if they think of me at all, I am a retired
+gentleman whose principal hobby is sailing,
+and who lives on an island in order to get the most
+enjoyment out of the sport.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_94">94</div>
+<p>Again Jones smiled, and Sandy shivered. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s
+quite a neat setup, don&rsquo;t you agree?&rdquo; Jones said.
+&ldquo;And, with the same neatness that is a part of my
+way of life, I am now going to put an end to this
+whole unpleasant interruption.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Suddenly dropping his lazy conversational
+manner, Jones sat upright and pointed his rifle at
+Sandy. Not moving his eyes from the boys, he
+spoke to the sailor who was still standing silent by
+his side. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ll have to take them out to the
+freighter now. There&rsquo;s nothing else to do. I&rsquo;ll
+decide what to do with them later on. You and
+Turk sail this boat and I&rsquo;ll follow in theirs. Lock
+them below,&rdquo; he added, nodding toward Sandy
+and Jerry.</p>
+<p>For the first time since they had seen him, the
+sailor spoke. &ldquo;Okay,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;We won&rsquo;t mess it
+up this time.&rdquo; Then, this being apparently the
+longest speech of which he was capable, he shut his
+mouth into a thin, hard line, and moved heavily
+to the boys.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_95">95</div>
+<p>Using his pistol as a goad, he poked Sandy in
+the ribs and motioned him to go below. As Sandy
+started to take his first step down into the cabin,
+the sailor shoved him roughly and sent him
+sprawling onto the deck below. His head spinning,
+Sandy looked up to see the giant sailor towering
+above him. He was conscious of an odd noise, like
+a strangled, slow sobbing, far away. What was it?
+He had never heard such an ugly sound in his
+life....</p>
+<p>Then, as his head cleared, he realized what it
+was that he was hearing. The sailor was laughing!</p>
+<p>Afterward, Sandy was unable to explain why
+the strange laughing sound, and the sight of the
+warped expression that only faintly resembled a
+smile, should have made him behave as he did.
+An uncontrollable fury filled him and he jumped
+to his feet with a headlong rush!</p>
+<p>Caught off guard by Sandy&rsquo;s sudden attack, the
+sailor made a clumsy move to sidestep, but not
+before Sandy&rsquo;s swing had caught him a terrific
+blow in the ribs. All of Sandy&rsquo;s six feet of wiry
+muscle went into the blow, and the sailor reeled
+back, staggering.</p>
+<p>Sandy followed him into the cockpit to take
+advantage of the surprise attack, just in time to see
+Jones bring down the barrel of his rifle sharply on
+Jerry&rsquo;s head. Sandy whirled to face Jones as Jerry
+dropped to the deck.</p>
+<p>He started forward, cocking his fist to lash out
+before Jones could raise his rifle again, but
+suddenly, with a sound like a bat striking a ball, a
+blinding light seemed to explode in his face. This
+first sensation was followed by a dull roaring
+sound and a spreading pool of inky blackness. He
+felt his knees buckle....</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_96">96</div>
+<p>Somewhere, from afar, he heard Jones speaking
+in bored tones.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Bull,&rdquo; he was saying, almost lazily, &ldquo;you know
+how I dislike unnecessary violence in any form. If
+you hadn&rsquo;t shoved the boy, this little scene would
+never&mdash;&rdquo;</p>
+<p>And that was the last Sandy was to hear for
+quite a while.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_97">97</div>
+<h2 id="c9"><span class="small">CHAPTER NINE</span>
+<br />To the Freighter</h2>
+<p>When Sandy came to, the first thing he was aware
+of was a terrific headache. This was accompanied
+by such severe dizziness that when he tried to sit
+up he sank back immediately, holding his head.
+Gingerly, he ran his hand over his skull as if to
+make sure that it was still all in one piece. Then
+he lay still for a while, afraid to try moving anything
+else, and looked at the ceiling above him.</p>
+<p>Slowly, the dizziness ebbed away and the pain
+lurking behind his eyes settled down to a more
+bearable level. When he felt it was safe to try, he
+moved more cautiously than the first time, sat up
+and swung his long legs over the edge of the bunk.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_98">98</div>
+<p>For a moment, he simply sat there with his
+elbows on his knees and his head propped in his
+hands, and looked at the decking. He had to think
+hard, as if he were remembering a dream that was
+fast fading away. Why was he in this bunk below?
+How was Jerry handling the boat alone? He
+frowned, pushed back his cowlick and raised his
+head.</p>
+<p>As he did so, he caught sight of the brass flare
+gun clipped to its bracket on the opposite bulkhead,
+and suddenly he remembered everything
+that had happened. Of course! This was not his
+boat at all, and Jerry wasn&rsquo;t sailing it alone&mdash;or
+in any other way, for that matter!</p>
+<p>Jerry lay on the opposite bunk below the flare
+gun, propped up on one elbow and looking at
+him with a grin.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I guess it isn&rsquo;t funny,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;but you sure
+took an awful long time to wake up and figure out
+what had happened to you! I&rsquo;ve been lying here
+awake for five minutes now, just watching you
+come up from under!&rdquo; Ruefully rubbing a hand
+across his black crew-cut, he added, &ldquo;I guess I
+must have taken the same length of time doing it
+when I woke up, but there wasn&rsquo;t anybody here
+to time me!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_99">99</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I saw Jones hit you,&rdquo; Sandy said, &ldquo;and he sure
+wasn&rsquo;t making any special effort to be gentle. I
+guess that Bull, the big sailor, got me from behind
+when I turned to go after Jones.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Still rubbing his head, Jerry sat up in his bunk
+and faced his friend. &ldquo;Sandy,&rdquo; he asked, &ldquo;what
+made you take a swing at Bull like that? You sure
+must have known that the two of us didn&rsquo;t stand
+much of a chance in a fight against three men with
+guns!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t suppose I was really thinking at all,&rdquo;
+Sandy answered. &ldquo;I know it was a pretty foolish
+thing to do, but there was just something about
+Bull&rsquo;s laugh.... Anyway, I&rsquo;m sorry. It could
+have got us killed right then and there, I guess. As
+it is, I think we&rsquo;re lucky to have got away with
+nothing more than a couple of headaches.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do you mean, a couple?&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ve
+got two myself!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Both boys laughed, but as their laughter died
+down, they became more serious than they had
+been before.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Look, we can sit here and make jokes about
+the situation until they get us out to that
+freighter,&rdquo; Sandy said, &ldquo;but that isn&rsquo;t going to
+help us to figure out a way to escape and get to
+the police.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_100">100</div>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re perfectly right,&rdquo; Jerry agreed. &ldquo;We&rsquo;d
+better scout around and size things up while we&rsquo;ve
+got a chance.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And we&rsquo;d better do it fast,&rdquo; Sandy added. &ldquo;We
+don&rsquo;t know how long we&rsquo;ve been knocked out, so
+we haven&rsquo;t any idea how much time we have left
+before we arrive at the freighter. And by then, it
+might very well be too late to do anything for ourselves
+at all.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Half rising from their bunks, for the cabin roof
+was too low to allow them full standing headroom,
+they moved aft to the sliding doors that separated
+them from the cockpit. Gently testing the doors,
+Sandy found that they were locked, as he had
+assumed they would be. A crack of light showed
+where the two halves of the door met, and he
+placed his eye to it. With a frown, he turned
+around to look at Jerry.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Boy, they&rsquo;re not taking any chances this time,&rdquo;
+he whispered. &ldquo;Both of the sailors are out there in
+the cockpit, and the one called Turk has his pistol
+in his hand, and it&rsquo;s pointed right at this door!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_101">101</div>
+<p>Moving back to the bunks, Sandy and Jerry
+knelt to look through the small windows above
+them. On both sides of the sloop, there was
+nothing to see but water&mdash;not so much as a buoy
+or another boat in sight. Far off to the starboard
+side, they made out a low smudge that was the
+shore.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We must be almost there!&rdquo; Sandy said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you think there&rsquo;s any use trying the forward
+hatch?&rdquo; asked Jerry. &ldquo;Or do you suppose
+that they have that one locked tight, too?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know if it matters much one way or the
+other,&rdquo; Sandy sighed. &ldquo;Even if it is open, I
+wouldn&rsquo;t care to stick my head out&mdash;not with
+Turk sitting back there with his pistol ready! I
+think I&rsquo;ve had enough of rushing into pistols for
+one day!&rdquo; Putting his hand to his head, he felt the
+lump that was forming above his right ear.</p>
+<p>Moving with the most extreme caution, so as to
+attract no attention from their guards, they started
+to explore the cabin for whatever possibilities it
+had to offer. Coming to the two tiny forward portholes,
+barely large enough to put a hand through,
+Sandy paused to take a look forward.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_102">102</div>
+<p>Before their bow, perhaps fifty yards away, was
+a boat sailing calmly along as if the whole world
+were on a holiday. For one short instant, Sandy
+thought that this might be their chance&mdash;perhaps
+a signal with the flare gun might bring aid from
+the passing sailor! But his hopes were shattered in
+no time as he realized that the sloop sailing ahead
+was his own, sailed by Jones who was leading the
+way to the freighter that waited, like doom, not
+far off.</p>
+<p>Even in his hopelessness, Sandy could not help
+pausing to admire his boat, graceful and trim,
+making good time beating into a steady breeze. He
+thought for a moment of the preceding day when
+he had learned to take the tiller and had first
+felt the happy pride of ownership and accomplishment
+that comes to every boat owner. What a
+change in fortunes this new day had brought!
+Now his boat was no longer his and, instead of
+carrying him to pleasure, was leading him to what
+looked like certain disaster!</p>
+<p>As he watched, his boat suddenly put about on
+a new tack. He saw Jones skillfully handling both
+the tiller and the sheets. The jib was swiftly
+brought over to fill and, together with the mainsail,
+was trimmed and drawing in no time. Whatever
+else you could say about Jones, Sandy
+thought, the man sure knew how to handle a boat!</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_103">103</div>
+<p>The new tack set by Jones was followed by their
+sailor-guards. With a creak of tackle and rigging
+and a shifting of weight to the opposite side, the
+little sloop came about. Still at his lookout post at
+the forward port, Sandy saw the head of the boat
+swing about. As it did so, he caught sight of their
+destination.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Jerry! Look!&rdquo; he whispered, motioning his
+friend to join him at the other porthole. There,
+high in the water, perhaps a mile away, was the
+dark shape of the freighter. Wisps of gray-white
+smoke curled from its stack and drifted off in the
+breeze. It was an ordinary-looking freight cargo
+ship, such as you would see in any port of the
+world. It had a black hull, a white deckhouse and
+a black stack marked with green stripes. All
+perfectly ordinary, perhaps, but to Sandy and
+Jerry it looked sinister and piratical. They stared
+at it for a few minutes, trying to judge their rate
+of progress from the lessening distance between
+themselves and the black-hulled ship. Then Sandy
+tore himself away from the porthole and grabbed
+Jerry&rsquo;s arm.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Jerry, we&rsquo;ve got to start acting fast,&rdquo; he said.
+&ldquo;There&rsquo;s hardly any time left!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Act how?&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;What can we do but sit
+here and wait like a couple of chickens in a crate
+being taken to market? If you can think of anything
+to do, I&rsquo;m game, but I haven&rsquo;t got an idea in
+my head.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_104">104</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think there&rsquo;s anything we can do about
+the situation now,&rdquo; Sandy said, &ldquo;but I have an idea
+that might work later on. It may not be worth
+much, but anything&rsquo;s worth trying.&rdquo; He cast his
+eyes about the small cabin.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Did you by any chance come across a first-aid
+kit while you were searching?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, I did,&rdquo; Jerry answered. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s in that locker
+next to the money. But what do you want it for?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Bring it over and I&rsquo;ll show you,&rdquo; Sandy
+answered.</p>
+<p>While Jerry went for the first-aid kit, Sandy
+took the brass flare pistol from its bracket above
+the bunk. Then he sat down on the bunk and
+rolled up his pants leg. &ldquo;Here,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Give
+me some tape. I&rsquo;m going to strap this bulky thing
+to my leg if we have enough.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What for?&rdquo; Jerry asked in surprise. &ldquo;It&rsquo;s not a
+real gun, you know. All it does is fire a flare. Besides,
+there&rsquo;s only one flare in here, and I don&rsquo;t
+know if that can do us very much good.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t care about the flares,&rdquo; Sandy answered.
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s the gun itself that I&rsquo;m interested in. It fooled
+me when I saw it and it just might possibly fool
+someone else who might not be familiar with these
+things. I&rsquo;m hoping that if we get a chance to pull
+it on someone after dark, we can fool him long
+enough to get hold of a real gun that will help us
+escape!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_105">105</div>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s not a bad idea,&rdquo; Jerry admitted. &ldquo;That
+is, if we&rsquo;re still alive by dark!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s about all I&rsquo;m hoping for now,&rdquo; Sandy
+answered. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know whether we can do any
+good with this flare gun or not, but it&rsquo;s pretty clear
+that we can&rsquo;t escape from <i>this</i> boat. So I&rsquo;m doing
+what I can to let us be able to take advantage of
+any chance we get on board the freighter. If we&rsquo;re
+lucky enough to <i>get</i> a chance.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As he spoke, Sandy was fastening the bulky flare
+pistol to the inside of his calf, making it as secure
+as he could with the tape from the first-aid kit.
+Finished at last, he stood up as well as he could
+in the low-ceilinged cabin, and tried to walk
+around.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Does it show too much?&rdquo; he asked Jerry,
+shaking his leg a little.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It shows,&rdquo; Jerry said, without much encouragement.
+&ldquo;But maybe if you move around carefully,
+and if they don&rsquo;t take a sudden interest in your
+legs, you might get away with it. Anyway, what can
+we lose by trying?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_106">106</div>
+<p>Sandy looked down at the bulge which so obviously
+distorted the leg of his blue jeans. He was
+afraid that he would never get away with it. He
+remembered the bell-bottom pants that the Navy
+enlisted men wear and that all sailors once wore,
+and he wondered if their original purpose had
+been to carry concealed weapons. Whatever they
+were for, he sure wished he were wearing a pair
+now!</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I guess this is about as good as we can get it,&rdquo;
+Sandy said. &ldquo;If one of us only had a jacket on, we
+could probably hide the gun under an arm, but
+these sweat shirts just don&rsquo;t leave enough room.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No, I think the leg is a better place anyway,&rdquo;
+Jerry said. &ldquo;If they search us for weapons, they&rsquo;re
+apt to miss your leg, but they&rsquo;d never miss patting
+you under the arm. Anyway, we don&rsquo;t have a
+jacket, and as far as I can see there&rsquo;s no place else
+to hide the thing.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The boys took a last look around the cabin to
+see if there was anything else to help them, but
+there was not even a small kitchen knife or a can
+opener in the little galley. It seemed that Mr.
+Jones kept only counterfeit money in that area. As
+they were carefully exploring every possible nook
+and cranny in the cabin, they felt the sloop heel to
+the other side as it once more came about to go on
+a new tack.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_107">107</div>
+<p>From the vantage point of the two forward ports
+they saw the reason for this latest maneuver. They
+were coming up to the wind alongside the
+freighter, preparing to stop. The high sides of the
+big ship loomed above them like the walls of a
+fortress, but chipped and scarred with streaks of
+rust. As the sloop swung completely into the wind,
+losing headway, they caught sight of Jones making
+a line fast to the bow of Sandy&rsquo;s boat. Then, with
+a rattle of slides and a clumping of heavy steps on
+the cabin roof overhead, the counterfeiters&rsquo; craft
+came to a halt and was made fast alongside the
+freighter.</p>
+<p>Whatever was to happen, it would happen now!</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_108">108</div>
+<h2 id="c10"><span class="small">CHAPTER TEN</span>
+<br />Aboard the Floating Prison</h2>
+<p>Moving away from the forward portholes, Sandy
+and Jerry sat on the edges of the bunks and waited
+for their captors to come and get them. Both boys
+made themselves look as if they were completely
+dejected&mdash;as if they had already given up any
+hopes they might have had of escaping or of being
+rescued.</p>
+<p>In a few minutes the footsteps on the deck and
+cabin top stopped and the little craft lay bobbing
+and wallowing in the sea swell that rose and fell
+alongside the freighter.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_109">109</div>
+<p>Rope bumpers, large braided lengths of thick
+cordage, were lashed to the sides of the sloop to
+keep it from being damaged by rubbing and banging
+against the steel side of the big ship.</p>
+<p>Although they were listening as closely as possible
+to everything that went on, they could not
+make out the words they heard shouted from the
+freighter&rsquo;s deck far above. Nevertheless, the sense
+of them was made clear by the answer that Turk
+bellowed back.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yeah! we got the stuff this time, all right! And
+we got a couple of other pieces of cargo with us,
+too! Wait and we&rsquo;ll show you!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This was the moment, Sandy thought. He
+would have to be careful, he warned himself, not
+to lose his temper as he had done last time, even
+if he was roughed up and shoved around again.
+And above all, he must be careful about the way
+he moved. One false step would surely outline the
+telltale shape of the flare gun taped to his leg&mdash;and
+that would be the end of the only &ldquo;weapon&rdquo;
+that he and Jerry had! Not only that, but it might
+well be the end of the only chance they would
+have to get away with whole skins!</p>
+<p>A bolt grated in its slide on the companionway
+door and the hatch slid open to reveal Turk,
+pistol in hand, grinning nastily at them.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_110">110</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Okay, gents,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;The first-class passage
+on the local ferry is over. Just step up on deck,
+and we&rsquo;ll transfer to the next vessel.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As Sandy reached the companionway steps,
+Turk reached down and grabbed him by the neck
+of his shirt. With a swift heave, he sent Sandy
+sprawling on the cockpit deck. Keeping a tight
+control on his temper, Sandy confined his thoughts
+to worrying about getting his leg tucked under
+him in such a position that the flare pistol
+wouldn&rsquo;t show.</p>
+<p>But he need not have worried, for Turk was too
+busy enjoying himself giving the same treatment
+to Jerry, who came flying out of the cabin to land
+heavily on the deck alongside Sandy.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;These boys sure play a lot of rough games,&rdquo; he
+murmured. &ldquo;And I&rsquo;m afraid that this is only the
+beginning of a whole world&rsquo;s series!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Take it easy,&rdquo; Sandy whispered to his friend.
+&ldquo;Let&rsquo;s just go along with them quietly. Maybe we
+can keep in one piece until we have a chance to
+figure a way out.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>At Turk&rsquo;s orders, they rose to their feet. Looking
+up to the freighter&rsquo;s deck high above them,
+they saw the other sailor, Bull, already on board,
+at the top of a long rope ladder. He too had his
+pistol held ready, and the expression on his face
+gave every indication that he would be only too
+glad to use it if he were given even half an excuse to do so.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_111">111</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Get up that ladder,&rdquo; Turk ordered, &ldquo;and don&rsquo;t
+try nothing funny. We&rsquo;ll have you covered all the
+way.&rdquo; He waved his pistol at Jerry to indicate that
+he wanted him to go up the ladder first.</p>
+<p>Sandy&rsquo;s heart seemed to sink in his chest. The
+order of climbing was all wrong&mdash;it couldn&rsquo;t be
+wronger! Jerry first, himself next, and Turk last!
+Surely Turk, if he was below him looking up as he
+climbed, couldn&rsquo;t fail to notice the flare pistol
+taped to Sandy&rsquo;s leg!</p>
+<p>Acting as if he misunderstood Turk&rsquo;s wordless
+command, Sandy stepped forward and grabbed
+the rope ladder, but the sailor&rsquo;s big hand gripped
+him by the shoulder hard and firmly pulled him
+back.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You sure are eager, ain&rsquo;t ya, kid? And you&rsquo;re
+tricky, too. Now why did you want to go up that
+ladder first? That ain&rsquo;t no picnic or party up
+there!&rdquo; He screwed his big face into a frown of
+deep thought. Apparently unable to reach a decision,
+he undid his thinking expression and snarled
+at Sandy. &ldquo;Just stop thinkin&rsquo; up tricks, see! You
+let me do the thinkin&rsquo; here! Now, you go on first,
+the way I told ya!&rdquo; He pushed Jerry toward the
+ladder.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_112">112</div>
+<p>Resigned to having his flare gun discovered, and
+almost resigned to whatever would happen next,
+Sandy moved to the ladder to take his turn, when
+once more the big hand of Turk pulled him
+back. &ldquo;I told you I&rsquo;d do the thinkin&rsquo;!&rdquo; Turk
+said. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know what you got up your sleeve,
+but whatever it is, you&rsquo;d better forget it. I&rsquo;m goin&rsquo;
+up next!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>At last, here was a turn of luck! Sandy could
+hardly keep from grinning as Turk started to
+mount the rope ladder. The big sailor swung up
+easily, keeping his eyes always turned downward
+to Sandy. Halfway up, he stopped.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come on, now,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You won&rsquo;t be able
+to play no tricks this way. You&rsquo;re too far back for
+any leg grabbing, and I got this gun aimed right
+at the top of your head. Now come on up, and
+come slow!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy stepped from the deck of the sloop to the
+lower rungs of the rope ladder and did as he was
+told, moving his &ldquo;gun leg&rdquo; as carefully as he
+could without running the risk of attracting any
+attention to it. At least, he thought with some
+satisfaction, he had gotten over the first hurdle!</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_113">113</div>
+<p>On the deck of the freighter, the boys were met
+by Jones, Bull, and a mean-looking crew of some
+of the dirtiest men they had ever seen. The
+freighter itself was none too clean, with paint
+scaling from the decks and splotches of grease
+covering the cargo-handling winches and other
+deck machinery. The white deckhouse, seen from
+close quarters, was a dingy and spotted gray, and
+the portholes were streaked with dirt and dried
+salt.</p>
+<p>In the midst of a rat&rsquo;s nest of coiled ropes, fraying
+cables and other ship&rsquo;s debris, Jones sat on an
+overturned crate as if it were an easy chair. He
+seemed perfectly at ease and completely out of
+place at the same time, his smart sports clothes and
+yachting cap making an odd contrast to the mixed
+clothing of the freighter&rsquo;s crew.</p>
+<p>Despite his air of being a gentleman of leisure,
+Jones had his rifle still with him, lying across his
+knees, and his long fingers played restlessly with
+the safety catch and the trigger.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Gentlemen,&rdquo; he smiled. &ldquo;Welcome aboard. I
+hope you will find our modest accommodations
+suitable for your long journey. The Captain will
+arrive in a moment, and I am sure that he will do
+whatever is in his power to see to it that you are
+treated&mdash;appropriately.&rdquo; Still smiling, he turned
+to Bull and said, &ldquo;Bull, see to it that our passengers
+aren&rsquo;t carrying any unnecessary luggage.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_114">114</div>
+<p>Bull looked puzzled. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t getcha,&rdquo; he
+mumbled.</p>
+<p>Jones rose with a swift movement, his smile
+turned at once to ice. &ldquo;If you weren&rsquo;t such a stupid
+lout, perhaps you&rsquo;d get me the first time I speak
+to you! If you weren&rsquo;t such a stupid lout, we
+wouldn&rsquo;t have had these boys here with us in the
+first place.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He moved forward as if to strike the cowering
+Bull, but stopped and regained control over himself.
+Once more, he put on his bland smile.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Pardon my temper and my little jokes, Bull,&rdquo;
+he said. &ldquo;What I meant by &lsquo;unnecessary luggage&rsquo;
+was concealed weapons. In other words, frisk
+them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Bull shook his head and said, &ldquo;Why&rsquo;ntcha say
+so inna first place?&rdquo; and started toward Jerry and
+Sandy.</p>
+<p>Once again Sandy tensed. If only his luck would
+hold and he could get through without having
+Bull find the flare gun! Otherwise....</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_115">115</div>
+<p>He watched as Bull patted Jerry, none too
+gently. He realized that, if Jerry had been wearing
+a jacket under which to hide the flare gun, it
+would surely have been discovered. Soon Bull was
+finished with Jerry, and it was Sandy&rsquo;s turn. Bull
+frisked him quickly and clumsily, patting his chest
+and under his arms, even though it was obvious
+that he couldn&rsquo;t possibly have hidden anything
+there. Bull&rsquo;s big hands continued down to Sandy&rsquo;s
+pockets, hesitated for a moment, and stopped
+right there. He turned to face Jones.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They&rsquo;re clean,&rdquo; he said.</p>
+<p>Jones nodded, not paying too much attention
+to Bull or to the search. &ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t think that they
+would have had the foresight to bring any
+weapons. Still&mdash;there&rsquo;s no sense taking any
+chances. In this business, one can&rsquo;t be too careful.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Noticing that Jones was not looking directly
+at either Bull or themselves as he said all this,
+Sandy followed his gaze to the upper decks of the
+freighter, wondering what he <i>was</i> looking for. A
+door swung open and a man stepped out into
+the late afternoon sunshine. Jones rose, waved to
+the man and called, &ldquo;Captain! Come down! We
+have a little surprise for you!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_116">116</div>
+<p>Sandy had not known what to expect of the
+captain of such a ship as this, but surely, the man
+who came down the ladder did not look in the
+least like anything he might have imagined! He
+would not have been really surprised by a bearded
+giant, or another tough, such as one of the crew,
+or even, perhaps, by a turbaned oriental&mdash;but this
+captain was surely a complete surprise!</p>
+<p>He was a thin, wispy-looking old man&mdash;how
+old, Sandy could not begin to guess&mdash;with a face
+like a wise preacher&rsquo;s or perhaps a college professor&rsquo;s.
+He was dressed entirely in white, down to
+his old-fashioned white high-buttoned shoes, and
+he carried a bamboo cane with a gold head. To
+finish off this spotless outfit, so out of keeping
+with his ship, the Captain wore a pith helmet,
+such as British officers wear in the tropics!</p>
+<p>The old man moved briskly down the steep
+ladder from the upper decks and, with scarcely a
+glance at the boys, addressed himself to Jones.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Who are these children?&rdquo; he asked, his voice
+thin and reedy, but carrying authority and as
+sharp as the crack of a whip.</p>
+<p>As Jones explained the presence of the boys on
+board the freighter, the Captain looked from them
+to Jones and back again. When Jones told him
+how Bull and Turk had mistaken Sandy&rsquo;s sloop
+for his own, the Captain shifted his gaze to the two
+sailors, who almost winced under his cutting stare
+of scorn. Then, when the tale was done, he devoted
+his attention exclusively to Jones once more.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do you want to do about it?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_117">117</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I leave that entirely up to you,&rdquo; Jones said. &ldquo;I
+want no part of any violence&mdash;if it can be avoided.
+Besides, you will have them on your hands, and
+I&rsquo;ll be ashore, so that it&rsquo;s hardly my place to dictate
+the conditions of their&mdash;er&mdash;disposal.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jones rose, leaning casually on his rifle as if it
+were a walking stick. &ldquo;Whatever you want to do
+is all right with me. Just get rid of them, that&rsquo;s
+all. And do it in a way that won&rsquo;t attract any
+suspicions ashore. I don&rsquo;t want anyone poking
+around the island asking questions about them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The Captain thought for a minute, then
+answered, &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think we&rsquo;ll have anyone poking
+around the island. Not if we handle this thing
+right. They must not, you see, simply disappear.
+If they just drop out of sight without a trace, it
+will surely bring on a search, and someone may
+have seen them near your place. No, that won&rsquo;t
+do. On the contrary, they must be found. But they
+must be found in such a condition that they can
+answer no questions&mdash;ever. And it must look
+natural.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Perfect logic,&rdquo; Jones said. &ldquo;I agree completely.
+But how are you going to manage it?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_118">118</div>
+<p>&ldquo;We will keep them aboard,&rdquo; the Captain
+answered, &ldquo;locked up below. I will tow their
+sloop after us. When we are a satisfactory distance
+from shore&mdash;say a thousand miles&mdash;we will put
+them into their boat and cut them loose.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But,&rdquo; Jones protested, &ldquo;isn&rsquo;t there a chance
+that they could make it in to shore somewhere?
+Men have managed rougher trips than that in the
+past.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Don&rsquo;t worry about details,&rdquo; the Captain said in
+his quiet, scholarly voice. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll take care of everything.
+First, we will drop them far out of any
+regular shipping lanes. In addition, we will first
+wreck their sails, their mast and their rigging as
+if it had been done by a storm. When they are
+finally found, it will be too late to do anything
+about them. It will just look as if a storm had
+wrecked them and blown them out to sea. It&rsquo;s a
+tidy way to operate&mdash;no messy violence&mdash;and
+there will be no clues to lead to your precious
+island.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jones considered for a minute before answering.
+&ldquo;It sounds all right to me, if you say so. After all,
+you know your end of the business better than I
+do.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Indeed I do,&rdquo; the Captain answered calmly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now,&rdquo; Jones said briskly, dismissing the matter
+of the boys from his mind, &ldquo;we have my other
+cargo to discuss before our dealings are finished
+for this trip.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_119">119</div>
+<p>The Captain held up a thin, white hand to stop
+Jones. &ldquo;Not now,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Our business can wait
+until we have refreshed ourselves and had a bit
+of dinner. Then when it is dark, you can turn
+over your cargo&mdash;if the terms are satisfactory&mdash;and
+sail home unobserved.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He waved his stick at the boys and motioned
+to two of his crew members. &ldquo;Take them below
+and lock them in an empty cabin. And set a close
+watch on them.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As Sandy and Jerry were led off by the two crewmen,
+they saw the Captain precede Jones to the
+foot of the deckhouse ladder. He paused and
+bowed, indicating that Jones should go first.
+Somehow, the courtly, old-fashioned gesture
+seemed to Sandy more sinister than anything else
+he had seen since the start of this day.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_120">120</div>
+<h2 id="c11"><span class="small">CHAPTER ELEVEN</span>
+<br />Escape to Danger</h2>
+<p>Stepping over the high sill of the door that led
+from the deck to the passageway, Sandy and Jerry
+were plunged at once into gloom and near-darkness.
+The throb of the freighter&rsquo;s engines, barely
+noticeable on deck, became a roar, and the passage
+was thick with the smells and heat from the engine
+room below.</p>
+<p>They were pushed and shoved along the
+passage, past a number of doors which Sandy presumed
+were the crew&rsquo;s quarters. On the other side
+of the passage, an occasional door opened onto
+the engine room, a great cavern of heat and noise,
+brightly illuminated by lights on all sides, and
+crisscrossed by catwalks and ladders.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_121">121</div>
+<p>Without a word, their guides stopped before a
+door opposite the main opening to the engine
+room. One of them produced a large key ring and,
+after a moment&rsquo;s searching for the right key, unlocked
+the door.</p>
+<p>Motioning them to enter, the guard stood aside
+as Sandy and Jerry stepped into the gloom of a
+small cabin. Then the door slammed behind
+them, the key clicked in the lock, and they were
+alone. Through the ventilating slits cut in the
+top and bottom of the door, they heard one of
+their captors.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You take the first watch while I go for chow.
+I&rsquo;ll bring the kids something to eat when I come
+back, then you can get yours.&rdquo; The other said
+something in agreement, and the speaker&rsquo;s footsteps
+in the passageway were soon drowned out in
+the roar of the engines.</p>
+<p>Sinking to a seat on the bare springs of a bunk
+with no mattress, Jerry looked up at Sandy and
+asked, &ldquo;What now?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; Sandy admitted. &ldquo;But at least
+we got away with the flare gun, and we may figure
+out a way to use it.&rdquo; He lowered himself to the
+bare bunk opposite the one Jerry occupied, and
+surveyed their floating prison.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_122">122</div>
+<p>The cabin offered very little promise of help.
+There were the two double bunks, both bare of
+mattresses, four lockers, a sink in one corner and
+a single porthole. Going to the porthole, Sandy
+tried to open it, but with no success. The &ldquo;dogs&rdquo;
+that secured it, heavy steel latches, were welded
+in place, and the glass of the porthole looked too
+heavy to break. Obviously, the place had been
+used as a prison before. Outside of the porthole,
+there was nothing but the sea. Even if the glass
+could be broken, Sandy didn&rsquo;t like the idea of
+dropping down into the black waters below. That
+seemed as unpromising a position as the one they
+were in now!</p>
+<p>The lockers were the next subject of their exploration
+but, as they expected, these proved as
+empty and bare as the cabin itself. The sink, the
+only remaining thing in the room, was the source
+of no inspiration.</p>
+<p>Settling himself on the bunk once more, Sandy
+began to roll up his pants leg. &ldquo;I guess this flare
+gun is our only hope at that,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;We might
+as well have it ready.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He quickly undid the adhesive tape, then stuck
+the gun in his belt. As he did so, an idea came to
+him.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Jerry, I think I have it!&rdquo; he whispered.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_123">123</div>
+<p>The plan was a simple one&mdash;almost too simple
+to work. But it seemed the only chance they had.
+Sandy proposed to wait until the guard came with
+their food, then, threatening him with the flare
+pistol, they would try to overcome him, tie him
+up, and make their way to the deck. Once there,
+they would have to find a way out. It seemed a
+slim hope, but what else could they do?</p>
+<p>Jerry agreed, and whispering quietly, they
+worked out the best positions to take to make their
+attack good. Meanwhile, one more stroke of good
+fortune came to them. Jerry found that he still
+had the roll of adhesive tape in his pocket, undiscovered
+in Bull&rsquo;s quick inspection. It would
+come in handy for binding and gagging the
+guards, if they could once overcome them.</p>
+<p>Now there was nothing to do but wait. Through
+the porthole, they could see the sky growing dark,
+and the gathering gloom in the cabin raised their
+spirits. It was one more bit of aid that might fool
+their jailer into thinking the flare gun was a real
+weapon. The last glow of day was dying on the
+horizon when they once more heard voices in the
+passageway.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_124">124</div>
+<p>Jerry took his position by the door while Sandy
+readied the flare gun, then sat on one of the bunks.
+The door swung open and their guards entered,
+the lead man carrying a tray and his companion
+behind him.</p>
+<p>As they stepped over the sill, Sandy stood up
+suddenly, upsetting the tray. Hot coffee spilled
+over the lead man, who stepped backward with a
+cry. As he did so, Jerry, from his position behind
+the door, reached out and knocked the second
+man to the deck. At the same moment, Sandy
+raised his flare gun and aimed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;All right,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I have you covered!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do what he says,&rdquo; one of the sailors said. &ldquo;Do
+you see that gun? It&rsquo;s a flare!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy was startled. If they knew it was not a
+real pistol, why didn&rsquo;t they charge him? Why
+were they cowering away? Then he realized for
+the first time that the flare pistol, used as a weapon,
+must be an awful thing. Anything that could send
+a stream of flame hundreds of feet into the air
+could surely inflict a terrible wound when used
+against a man. He shuddered, knowing he could
+never use it in this way. But as long as the sailors
+didn&rsquo;t know it....</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_125">125</div>
+<p>It was short work to silence the men with adhesive-tape
+gags, and to tape their hands firmly
+behind their backs. When this was done, the boys
+pushed the sailors into the lockers, taped their
+ankles together, and shut them in. The locker
+doors secured firmly with a latch. Leaving the
+cabin silently, Sandy and Jerry locked its door
+behind them. That certainly took care of two of
+their captors. Now, if the rest would just prove
+this easy!</p>
+<p>As they stepped away from the door, Sandy
+whispered, &ldquo;Let&rsquo;s get out of this passage fast.
+There are too many doors here, and one might
+pop open at any minute!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They swiftly moved down the length of the
+passage until they reached the bulkhead door.
+Outside, the deck was dark, with the complete
+blackness of a night at sea, pierced only by the
+shaft of light that came from the passage. Moving
+now as quickly as they could, they slipped out
+onto the deck, and stepped back out of the light.
+Their shadows had been outlined boldly against
+the passage light for only a second. They crouched
+in the darkness and waited to be sure they had
+not been observed. So far, so good.</p>
+<p>Now that they had gotten this far, Sandy realized,
+their problems were just beginning. How
+were they to get off the ship? And how could they
+prevent being followed?</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_126">126</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Jerry,&rdquo; he whispered, &ldquo;we&rsquo;ve got to see to it
+that we get away from here in the fastest boat
+they have! I wonder if there&rsquo;s a power boat
+around?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There has to be,&rdquo; Jerry answered. &ldquo;Every ship
+carries lifeboats, and one of them always has power
+so it can be used as a captain&rsquo;s launch when
+necessary.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, let&rsquo;s find it!&rdquo; Sandy whispered.</p>
+<p>Gazing over the side, they could see no boat
+tied up at all. They had to work their way to the
+other side of the freighter, without once more
+crossing the telltale path of light from the passageway.
+To do this, they had to work their way
+forward to the bow, and then around to the other
+side of the ship. Slowly, with as much care as they
+could muster, they dropped to their knees and
+began to crawl.</p>
+<p>They reached the forepeak with no trouble,
+except the minor difficulties of crawling over the
+mess of rope and ship&rsquo;s gear scattered around the
+disordered deck. As they started back, though,
+two dark forms appeared in the light of the
+passage!</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_127">127</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Down!&rdquo; Sandy whispered, and he and Jerry
+dropped flat on the deck behind the protection of
+the windlass. Peering around the corner of the
+huge machine, with its coil of giant anchor chain,
+they watched the figures come nearer. Halfway
+between them and the deckhouse, the shadows
+stopped, leaning against the bulwark, and lit
+cigarettes.</p>
+<p>In the brief flare of the match, the boys recognized
+the grim face of Turk. The other man
+with him was a sailor they had seen on deck with
+the rest of the crew when they had been taken
+aboard the freighter. He spoke in a thin, flat,
+whining voice, with a trace of a foreign accent
+that might have had its origin in any country in
+the world, but which by now was simply international.
+The first words the boys could make
+out came from Turk.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This waiting is getting on my nerves,&rdquo; he
+rumbled. &ldquo;What&rsquo;s keeping us from shoving off?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s the big businessmen up there,&rdquo; the sailor
+whined, jerking his thumb toward the Captain&rsquo;s
+quarters. &ldquo;Jones wants more for the phony dough
+than he got last time, and the Skipper wants to
+give him less. The Skipper says he rates a break in
+the price for getting rid of those kids for Jones.
+Jones says he&rsquo;s taking as much risk as the Skipper.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;And how about us?&rdquo; Turk asked. &ldquo;Ain&rsquo;t we
+in this as much as them? Where&rsquo;s the payoff for
+us?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_128">128</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know about you,&rdquo; the sailor answered.
+&ldquo;But the Skipper never let <i>us</i> down yet. He says
+he&rsquo;s gotta have better terms so&rsquo;s to pay us a bonus.
+And we&rsquo;ll get it,&rdquo; he continued, his voice taking
+on a mean, determined tone. &ldquo;We&rsquo;ll get it, or
+else!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy and Jerry, scarcely daring to breathe, lay
+still in the shadow of the windlass, listening to
+this exchange. At each word, the black freighter
+seemed less and less like a place where they wanted
+to stay. Something had to be done, and fast! As
+each moment wore on, Jones and the Captain were
+coming closer to an agreement, and when that
+agreement was reached, the ship would sail. And
+if it sailed with them still aboard, Sandy thought,
+their chance of escape would slim down almost to
+the vanishing point!</p>
+<p>For a few minutes, Turk and his friend stood
+silently at the rail and smoked their cigarettes.
+The stillness of the scene was marked only by the
+glow of coals against the black sea and sky. Then
+one of the cigarettes made an arch through the
+night as it was flipped over the side. The figures
+straightened.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_129">129</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m going back up there,&rdquo; Turk announced,
+&ldquo;and see if I can get any better idea what&rsquo;s going
+on. I&rsquo;ll listen at the porthole, and you stay back
+on the boat deck and cover for me. If anyone
+comes along, start to whistle.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The two dark figures walked back to the deckhouse
+and disappeared for a moment in the
+shadows. A few minutes later, Sandy saw their
+forms outlined briefly against the light from a
+porthole on the boat deck; then they passed once
+more from sight.</p>
+<p>Turning to Jerry, Sandy whispered, &ldquo;We&rsquo;d
+better get going! If they wind up that business
+talk before we&rsquo;re out of here, I don&rsquo;t give us much
+of a chance!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Once more, they crept in the shadows, moving
+with painful care over the tangled equipment that
+seemed to cover the decks everywhere. At last,
+reaching the ladder from the main deck to the
+boat deck, they paused and took stock. Above
+them, showing only as a dark shape against the
+dark sky, loomed the bow of the nearest of the
+freighter&rsquo;s four lifeboats. Slowly, and with the
+greatest of care, they slipped up the ladder until
+Sandy&rsquo;s head was at a level with the deck above.
+He waited and watched to be sure the deck was
+uninhabited. When he was reasonably certain, he
+moved ahead, slower now than before, and slid
+his body up onto the deck. Jerry followed suit,
+and soon the two, pulling themselves forward on
+the deck by the flats of their hands and the toes
+of their sneakers, were sheltered by a life-jacket
+box below the lifeboat.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_130">130</div>
+<p>Turning over, Sandy scanned the bottom of the
+lifeboat, until, with a sigh of relief, he saw what
+he was hoping to see&mdash;the screw of a power boat
+protruding from the stern. This was the object of
+their search!</p>
+<p>As he pointed excitedly to the screw, Jerry
+whispered with puzzlement, &ldquo;Now that we&rsquo;ve
+found their power gig, what are we going to do
+with it? It takes four men to launch these things,
+and even if we could launch it, it would make
+such a noise that we&rsquo;d have the whole crew on our
+necks before it ever hit the water!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I didn&rsquo;t figure on launching it,&rdquo; Sandy said.
+&ldquo;What I want to do is fix it so they won&rsquo;t be able
+to follow us in it when we make our getaway on
+the sloop!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Smart thinking!&rdquo; Jerry whispered. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s
+very little danger that they can chase us with the
+freighter itself. In the first place, by the time they
+could turn it around, we&rsquo;d be out of sight. And
+if they don&rsquo;t catch up with us out here, they won&rsquo;t
+dare come too near the harbor. The water there
+isn&rsquo;t deep enough for a ship this size and it would
+be too risky for them. But <i>I</i> don&rsquo;t know too much
+about engines. How are you going to disable this one?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_131">131</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I know a few ways,&rdquo; Sandy answered, &ldquo;and I&rsquo;m
+going to use them all! If I just put one thing out
+of order, they might fix it right away. But, with
+the mess I&rsquo;m going to make of that engine, it&rsquo;ll
+take them a half hour or better to get it going.
+And by then, I hope, we&rsquo;ll have sailed out of
+sight!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Working with the greatest of care, the boys unlaced
+the canvas cover on the outboard side of the
+lifeboat. Standing on the rail of the ship, Sandy
+swung up and slid in beneath the cover, into a
+pitch-blackness that made the night outside seem
+bright in comparison.</p>
+<p>As Jerry joined Sandy, his added weight made
+the lifeboat lurch to one side, and brought a creak
+from the davits in which the boat was hung. To
+the boys under the canvas, it sounded as loud as a
+scream! Motionless in the dark, they waited for
+the thud of running feet, the tearing back of the
+boat cover, the glare of flashlights&mdash;but none
+came. The only answer to the noise was a thin,
+tuneless whistle from the deck above them. It was
+Turk&rsquo;s fellow sailor, keeping watch for his spying
+friend, and he was as afraid of passing noises as the
+boys were!</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_132">132</div>
+<p>Not daring to move, Sandy and Jerry waited
+for what seemed hours until the slight swaying of
+the lifeboat stopped. As cautiously as they could,
+so as not to start it moving again, they changed
+their positions in such a way as to balance the boat
+better. At last they were stationed one on each
+side of what Sandy could only hope was the engine
+compartment.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How can you work in the dark?&rdquo; Jerry
+whispered. &ldquo;How will you know what&rsquo;s what in
+there?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It shouldn&rsquo;t be too hard,&rdquo; Sandy replied.
+&ldquo;Almost all engines have a lot in common. If I
+can just get my hands on the engine, I think I&rsquo;ll
+know what to do.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Working only by touch, it was not easy to find
+out how the lid to the engine compartment was
+removed. Slowly moving his hands around the
+surfaces of the box, Sandy found two hook-eyes,
+which he carefully unfastened. On the opposite
+side of the box, he found two more, which he also
+undid.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;re in luck,&rdquo; he whispered to Jerry. &ldquo;If
+this had been a hinged top, I don&rsquo;t think we could
+have opened it. There isn&rsquo;t enough headroom
+below this canvas to raise a boxtop this size.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_133">133</div>
+<p>With the greatest of care, making only the
+smallest of scraping noises, they removed the
+heavy lid and placed it across two of the lifeboat&rsquo;s
+seats.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m ready,&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to be
+handing you some parts, Jerry. I want you to put
+them in your shirt. We can&rsquo;t leave them in here,
+and if we threw them overboard, the splash
+would surely be heard. Just be sure they don&rsquo;t
+clank around!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Working noiselessly, Sandy ran his hands over
+the engine, starting from the top of the block. He
+touched and counted the spark plugs&mdash;four of
+them. His own experience with assorted jalopies
+would come in handy here, he thought. Carefully,
+he slipped the wires off the tops of the spark
+plugs. Following the wires to their source, he
+came to the distributor cap. Two clips held it in
+place. These were easily removed. Following the
+wire that came from the center of the distributor
+cap, he came to its end at the spark coil. A small
+pull removed it. Then he handed the whole thing,
+which felt like a mechanical octopus, to Jerry,
+who slipped it into his shirt.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_134">134</div>
+<p>A little more probing brought out two more
+parts from the distributor, both quite small. One
+was the rotor, the other the condenser. &ldquo;With any
+one of these things gone,&rdquo; Sandy whispered, &ldquo;they
+won&rsquo;t be able to run this boat!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Great!&rdquo; Jerry breathed. &ldquo;Now let&rsquo;s get going!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not yet,&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;We still have some
+more to do. I don&rsquo;t want to make it too easy for
+them!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>The next thing to go was the fuel pump, as
+Sandy unscrewed from it the glass bowl through
+which the gasoline had to pass. This was followed
+by a small collection of springs from the choke,
+the accelerator and the carburetor.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I think that ought to do it,&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;Now
+let&rsquo;s put this engine lid back on, so they can&rsquo;t tell
+right away that somebody&rsquo;s been in here!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It took even more care to replace the lid than it
+had to take it off. It was a tight fit, and really
+needed a blow on the top to make it fit properly
+on the casing, but this could not be done without
+making far too much noise. Finally, they decided
+to leave it unhooked, rather than run the risk of
+giving away their presence in the lifeboat.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_135">135</div>
+<p>Getting out and dropping soundlessly to the
+deck was not easy either, especially for Jerry, with
+the hardware stored in his bulging shirt front.
+Sandy, who had gone first, helped him down, and
+Jerry landed beside him with a muted clinking of
+metal and hard plastic. The slight noise brought
+no warning whistle from Turk&rsquo;s lookout.</p>
+<p>A glance at the deck below showed them why.
+Their eyes, grown accustomed to complete darkness,
+were now able to see quite clearly about the
+freighter&rsquo;s deck. Up forward, near where they had
+hidden below the windlass, stood Jones and the
+white-uniformed little Captain, together with
+Turk, Bull, and several other sailors.</p>
+<p>Apparently the business talk was concluded and,
+much more to the boys&rsquo; concern, the freighter was
+making ready to hoist anchor and set off for ports
+unknown!</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_136">136</div>
+<h2 id="c12"><span class="small">CHAPTER TWELVE</span>
+<br />The Race Begins</h2>
+<p>Even as they watched, a working light mounted
+on the foremast suddenly flooded the foredeck
+with brilliance, bringing the shadowy figures into
+sharp focus, like actors on a brightly lighted stage.</p>
+<p>Instinctively, Sandy and Jerry shrank back into
+the shadow of the life-jacket box, until Sandy
+realized that the bright light on the foredeck
+would make the rest of the ship almost invisible
+to people in its rays.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_137">137</div>
+<p>For a few seconds or more, the boys watched the
+tableau below them until several of the sailors
+ambled over to the windlass. Then Jerry said,
+&ldquo;They&rsquo;re getting ready to hoist the anchor now.
+We have to move fast if we&rsquo;re going to get to our
+boat before Jones gets to his!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Still exercising the greatest care, they re-laced
+the canvas where they had entered the lifeboat,
+then quietly crept alongside the rails under the
+lifeboats until they came to the ladder connecting
+the boat deck to the afterdeck.</p>
+<p>This, fortunately, was both deserted and unlighted,
+the deck crew having all gone forward to
+work on the windlass. The boys made their way
+down to the point where they had come on board
+via the rope ladder, which was still slung over the
+side, waiting for Jones&rsquo;s departure.</p>
+<p>Looking over the bulwark, they saw the two
+sloops below them, bobbing gently in the swell
+that washed against the sheer side of the tall
+freighter. They looked almost unbelievably peaceful,
+and Sandy thought once again about Jones&rsquo;s
+comments about the unsuspicious looks of sailing
+craft. Next to their trim, small shapes, the
+freighter looked every bit as sinister as it had
+actually proved to be!</p>
+<p>&ldquo;This is it,&rdquo; Sandy whispered. &ldquo;Let&rsquo;s make it
+fast!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_138">138</div>
+<p>He stepped over the bulwark and disappeared
+down the rope ladder. Jerry was as close behind
+him as he could get without running the risk
+of stepping on Sandy&rsquo;s hands. A moment more
+brought them to the deck of the sloop.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now comes the hard part,&rdquo; Jerry whispered.
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;ve got to get our sails up and shove off without
+anyone seeing or hearing us&mdash;and it&rsquo;s not
+exactly a quiet job. In fact, if I remember right,
+our slides squeak pretty badly in their track. I
+noticed it when we first took it out, and made a
+mental note to oil the track as soon as we got some
+time.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Maybe we&rsquo;d better not risk it,&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;Is
+there some way we can get away from here without
+having to hoist the sails right away?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well ...&rdquo; Jerry said, &ldquo;if there were enough
+current, we could drift off, but I don&rsquo;t think there
+is. Besides, it would take a long time, and I don&rsquo;t
+think we&rsquo;ve got too much time to waste right
+now.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Suppose we tow it off behind the dinghy?&rdquo;
+Sandy asked. &ldquo;You know, the way we brought it
+out of the harbor for the first day&rsquo;s sail.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Good!&rdquo; Jerry exclaimed. But it only took a
+moment&rsquo;s search to assure them that the dinghy
+was not with them. &ldquo;Jones must have left it tied to
+his mooring,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;That puts us back
+where we started.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_139">139</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I guess there&rsquo;s nothing to do but try it with
+our sails,&rdquo; Sandy said. As he started to move
+forward, Jerry stopped him with a hand on his
+shoulder.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Wait a minute! I think I know a way to do
+this! I remember I was once taught about sculling
+with the rudder. You use it like an oar. I&rsquo;ve never
+had to try it, but this is probably the best time.
+C&rsquo;mon! Let&rsquo;s cast off those lines!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Working swiftly, Sandy cast off the bow line
+while Jerry did the same with the line at the stern.
+Then both of them pushed off from the side of
+the freighter, and the little sloop drifted noiselessly
+away from the scarred steel cliff of the huge
+hull.</p>
+<p>The bright light from the foredeck spilled on
+the waters around the bow of the ship, and seemed
+even to light up the sloop. Sandy only hoped that
+whoever was standing lookout on the freighter
+was within that circle of light. If he was in the
+darkness of the upper decks, even the few dim
+beams that reflected from the white hull of the
+little sailboat would shine out like a warning
+beacon against the dark waters!</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_140">140</div>
+<p>Sandy worked his way aft over the cabin roof,
+and dropped into the cockpit to join Jerry at the
+tiller. Jerry was carefully working the tiller backward
+and forward, making small gurgling sounds
+as the rudder swept through the water.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Here&rsquo;s the way it works,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;m using
+the rudder like a single stern paddle. Lots of
+boats in the old days used to be run like that. If
+the paddle&rsquo;s properly shaped, it will do a good
+job of propelling a boat. They call a long stern
+oar a sweep, and it&rsquo;s good enough so that it&rsquo;s still
+used on heavy barges in lots of places around the
+world.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Won&rsquo;t it just push the stern around from one
+side to the other?&rdquo; Sandy asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not if you do it carefully,&rdquo; Jerry replied.
+&ldquo;What I&rsquo;m doing is this: I ease the rudder to one
+side, slowly, so as not to row with it. Then I give
+it a strong pull toward me&mdash;like this&mdash;and then
+I shove it halfway back.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As he spoke, he hauled on the rudder, and the
+stern of the sloop swung around a bit, but the return
+motion of the rudder stopped the swinging
+action and steadied the sloop on her course. Sandy
+saw small ripples form a wake behind the boat as
+some forward motion was gained. As Jerry repeated
+the gentling, pulling and returning of the
+rudder, the sloop gained a little more forward
+speed. Slowly, the rusted sides of the black
+freighter slid by them.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_141">141</div>
+<p>&ldquo;So far, so good,&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;If we keep this
+up, we&rsquo;ll be able to get away before we&rsquo;re spotted.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I hope so,&rdquo; Jerry agreed fervently, pulling
+strongly on his improvised sweep. By now the
+sloop was some thirty feet or more away from the
+freighter, and heading past the overhanging stern
+of the big ship. Suddenly, the stillness of the night
+was shattered by a roar and clank of machinery.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s the windlass!&rdquo; Jerry cried. &ldquo;They&rsquo;re
+getting ready to haul up the anchor! Jones must
+be ready to go over to his boat!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Even as he spoke, a flare of work lights came up
+over the freighter&rsquo;s afterdeck, clearly showing
+Jones and the Captain standing by the head of the
+rope ladder, flanked by Turk and Bull. The
+Captain and Jones were shaking hands, apparently
+having concluded a deal on the counterfeit cargo
+that pleased them both. Neither of them had as
+yet looked over the side to see that one of the
+sloops was missing.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We can&rsquo;t chance this any more,&rdquo; Jerry said.
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;re bound to be discovered in another minute,
+when Jones starts over the ladder! Let&rsquo;s get those
+sails up now, and do the best we can!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_142">142</div>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re right,&rdquo; Sandy agreed, swiftly leaping
+atop the cabin roof to reach the main halyards.
+Taking a deep breath, he hauled. With a screech,
+the slides moved stiffly up the track, and the mainsail
+fluttered overhead.</p>
+<p>Moving quickly, Sandy grasped the jib halyard
+and hoisted it aloft while Jerry was fastening the
+main halyard to its cleat. The sloop began to make
+headway in the light breeze. Then, as Sandy
+joined his friend in the cockpit, the sloop sailed
+clear of the shadows that lay below the stern of
+the freighter, and into the circle of light that surrounded
+the afterdeck. At almost the same instant,
+a shout rang out from above them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Look! It&rsquo;s the kids!&rdquo; It was Turk, who, seeing
+the sail like a luminous flag in the water, had
+sounded the alarm.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Get down!&rdquo; Sandy said, pulling Jerry to the
+deck of the cockpit. His action came not a minute
+too soon for a pistol shot rang out. It was followed
+by a volley of shots, as more of the freighter&rsquo;s crew
+got into the action, but the boys were unharmed,
+although two bullets had hit the cabin roof and
+one had plowed a furrow in the deck.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_143">143</div>
+<p>The shooting stopped after a few more stray
+shots were fired, the sloop having by now moved
+out of effective pistol range. Making the best headway
+they could in the light breeze, Sandy and
+Jerry looked back with satisfaction to see the
+freighter&rsquo;s crew working feverishly at the davits
+to get the ship&rsquo;s power gig into the water.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If we can just get enough lead time,&rdquo; Jerry
+said fervently, &ldquo;we&rsquo;ll make it to shore well ahead
+of them!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What if Jones follows in his boat?&rdquo; Sandy
+asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll worry about that if he does,&rdquo; Jerry
+answered. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s a good sailor, but we have a lead
+on him. It&rsquo;ll be our first race, if it happens, and I
+sure hope we win!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>By now the power gig was hanging over the
+side, its davits having been swung into launching
+position. The canvas cover had been removed,
+and several sailors clambered in, waiting for the
+boat to be lowered. With a creak of blocks and
+tackle, the lifeboat was swiftly dropped to the
+water. The boys could see someone bending over
+the engine compartment, trying to get the boat
+started.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Jones&rsquo;ll have a long wait, if he wants to go after
+us in that!&rdquo; Sandy chuckled. &ldquo;That ship is so
+sloppy, I&rsquo;ll bet it will take them an hour just to
+find the parts they need, once they discover what&rsquo;s
+wrong!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_144">144</div>
+<p>But apparently Jones wasn&rsquo;t going to wait. He
+had sized up the situation quickly&mdash;too quickly&mdash;and
+was going over the side and down the rope
+ladder to the other sloop!</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh-oh!&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s going to try to catch
+us in the other sloop! And we haven&rsquo;t got more
+than a few hundred yards on him yet. This is going
+to be some race!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Some race! Sandy realized once again how different
+the meaning of speed is to a sailor and to a
+landsman. Here they were, in a gentle breeze on
+a calm sea, preparing to race for their very lives&mdash;and
+they would probably not sail faster than he
+could walk!</p>
+<p>Consulting the stars, Jerry set a downwind
+course, and the boat headed slowly but steadily
+toward the mainland.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;d do better on some other point of sail,&rdquo;
+Jerry said, &ldquo;but there&rsquo;s one consolation.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s that?&rdquo; Sandy asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He&rsquo;s got to sail on the same course we take, so
+he can&rsquo;t take advantage of any more favorable wind
+than the one we get. That, and the fact that the
+boats are the same, at least puts us on an even
+footing.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_145">145</div>
+<p>By now, Jones and a crew member were in the
+sloop, and were getting the sails up. Sandy
+watched as the mainsail caught the light from the
+freighter, followed almost immediately by the jib.
+The sloop swung about into the trail of light that
+danced on the water between them and the big
+ship, and set her sails for a downwind tack.</p>
+<p>Small waves whispered softly at the bow, and
+bubbles gurgled quietly in the wake. The mainsheet
+hardly pulled at all in Sandy&rsquo;s hand as the
+sail caught all the wind there was to catch. Hardly
+seeming to move at all, the sloop glided slowly
+ahead in the soft night breeze.</p>
+<p>And the toughest race they would ever sail was
+under way!</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_146">146</div>
+<h2 id="c13"><span class="small">CHAPTER THIRTEEN</span>
+<br />A Race of Mistaken Identity</h2>
+<p>&ldquo;Trim your main!&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;Haul back a
+little ... more ... no, let it out a shade ...
+that&rsquo;s it! Cleat it down there!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy followed Jerry&rsquo;s directions carefully,
+hauling at the sheet to get the sail set to its best
+position. Like the airplane wing it resembles, the
+sail must be perfectly shaped to get the maximum
+advantage of the wind. Sandy had learned that this
+was true even on a downwind run, where a sail
+let out too far will spill wind, and a sail sheeted
+in too close will miss too much wind.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_147">147</div>
+<p>Rejoining Jerry on the cockpit seat, Sandy
+looked aft to catch sight of their pursuer. He was
+surprised to see the amount of water that now
+separated them from the freighter, which seemed
+a spot of bright light far behind them. Against
+the light he could see the silhouetted shape of
+Jones&rsquo;s sloop. It seemed to him that they were
+closer than before, and he motioned Jerry to turn
+and look.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re right,&rdquo; Jerry said, guessing at the
+question that had formed in Sandy&rsquo;s mind.
+&ldquo;They&rsquo;re closing in on us, all right. That Jones is
+sure some sailor! We&rsquo;ll have to do better than
+this if we&rsquo;re going to get ashore before they sail
+within pistol range!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What can we do?&rdquo; Sandy asked, his brow
+wrinkling under the blond forelock that hung
+over his eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;The only thing we can do is put on more sail,&rdquo;
+Jerry answered. &ldquo;That won&rsquo;t be an easy job with
+just the two of us. And you&rsquo;ve never handled a
+spinnaker.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;d better give me some fast instruction,&rdquo;
+Sandy breathed. &ldquo;First, what&rsquo;s the spinnaker?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_148">148</div>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a big oversized jib, cut like a parachute,&rdquo;
+Jerry replied. &ldquo;You saw a few out in the bay
+yesterday, remember? It&rsquo;s that big sail that flies
+out ahead of the boat. You can only use it on
+downwind sailing, unless you&rsquo;re a lot better sailor
+than I am, and it&rsquo;s the best pulling power you can
+have when the wind&rsquo;s at your back.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do I have to do to help you?&rdquo; Sandy
+asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll have to put it up myself,&rdquo; Jerry told him.
+&ldquo;Your job will be to hold a steady course and to
+keep the sails trimmed the way they are now.&rdquo;
+Sandy grinned. &ldquo;I won&rsquo;t look around to see how
+other boats look this time,&rdquo; he promised. Then he
+sobered. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll do my best to keep her sailing right.
+What&rsquo;ll you be doing?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll have to drop the jib, which will lose us
+some speed for a minute. Then I&rsquo;ll hoist the spinnaker,
+with a pole to the tack&mdash;that&rsquo;s the corner&mdash;to
+swing it outboard to where it will catch the
+wind. Then&mdash;but we can&rsquo;t waste time talking
+about it! I&rsquo;ll show you now and explain some
+other time!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Both boys took another look back, but by now
+the night had swallowed up Jones&rsquo;s sloop, and all
+they could see was the glow of the freighter, growing
+rapidly smaller and fainter behind them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I wonder if Jones has seen that?&rdquo; Sandy said.
+&ldquo;The freighter must be under way. They haven&rsquo;t
+even waited for him, to see how things turn out!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_149">149</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not surprised,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;If Jones catches
+us, they don&rsquo;t have anything to worry about. And
+if he doesn&rsquo;t ... they want to be a long way
+away from here!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Turning their attention back to their own
+problem, Jerry asked Sandy to go below to the
+cabin&rsquo;s sail locker and pull out the sail bags, but
+not to light even a match. The odds were that
+Jones still could not see them, and it was better
+to keep it that way.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;How will I know which is the spinnaker?&rdquo;
+Sandy asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We only have two sails below,&rdquo; Jerry answered.
+&ldquo;We&rsquo;re flying the main and genoa jib now. That
+means that the only bags will have the working
+jib and the spinnaker. The working jib is the
+small bag, and the spinnaker will be as heavy as
+the mainsail.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>In the cabin of the sloop it was as dark as it had
+been under the cover of the lifeboat. Sandy groped
+about, searching for the sail locker, which was
+forward of the mast, in the peak of the boat. Finally,
+after tripping a few times, and once bumping
+his head badly, he felt his hands come in contact
+with the brass catch that secured the locker.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_150">150</div>
+<p>Inside were several sail bags, most of them
+empty. He came on one that contained a sail, but
+it was obviously the small working jib. Worried
+now, Sandy burrowed deeper into the locker, and
+at last found a bag that seemed heavier than the
+first. Relieved, he carried it out to the cockpit,
+where Jerry was anxiously looking aft.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Look! If you look just about four points off
+our stern, you can see her!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy squinted to where Jerry had pointed,
+and made out a dim white shape through the darkness,
+surely no more than a few hundred yards
+behind them!</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They&rsquo;re closing in!&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;d better rig
+this thing as fast as I can!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He took the sail bag from Sandy, and crawled
+forward over the cabin. Sandy anxiously handled
+the tiller, hoping that he was keeping the course.
+Overhead, a few dim stars made points of light,
+and he leaned back to line up the masthead with
+one of them. In his right hand, the mainsheet felt
+light&mdash;too light&mdash;and he worried that he had so
+little control over it. What if they were to jibe
+now, as they had on the first day&rsquo;s sail? What if the
+sails were not properly trimmed? And how could
+he be sure they were? How long would it take
+Jones to catch up with them? Taking his eyes for
+a minute from the star and the masthead, he saw
+Jerry kneeling on deck, doing something with the
+sail. Then he looked back to the masthead, and
+fixed all his attention on keeping the boat on a
+steady course.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_151">151</div>
+<p>Suddenly, Jerry was back in the cockpit with
+him, and the sail bag, still full, was dropped on
+the deck at his feet.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What&rsquo;s wrong?&rdquo; he asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sandy, was that the only heavy bag there was?&rdquo;
+Jerry asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s right. The only other bag was so light it
+must have been the jib. What&rsquo;s the matter?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jerry shook his head slowly. &ldquo;We&rsquo;re in real
+trouble now,&rdquo; he answered. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s not a spinnaker
+at all. It&rsquo;s a spare genoa!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But&mdash;but I saw the bag marked spinnaker the
+other day!&rdquo; Sandy spluttered. &ldquo;Why would Uncle
+Russ put a spare genoa in a bag marked for a
+spinnaker?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He wouldn&rsquo;t,&rdquo; Jerry answered. &ldquo;And what&rsquo;s
+more, he didn&rsquo;t. I was able to make out the letters
+on the bag, and they said &lsquo;genoa.&rsquo; Brace yourself
+for a shock, buddy. I <i>know</i> we had a spinnaker
+aboard. And I know we didn&rsquo;t have two jennies!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you mean we&rsquo;ve done it again?&rdquo; Sandy
+gasped.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s right,&rdquo; Jerry said sadly. &ldquo;We goofed
+again, and took Jones&rsquo;s boat instead of yours!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_152">152</div>
+<p>There was nothing to say. They turned in
+silence to look aft at the dim white shape that
+followed them through the night, and that slowly
+ate away at the distance that kept them apart.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_153">153</div>
+<h2 id="c14"><span class="small">CHAPTER FOURTEEN</span>
+<br />Slow-Motion Chase</h2>
+<p>&ldquo;What can we do now?&rdquo; Sandy asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Just what we&rsquo;re doing,&rdquo; Jerry answered mournfully.
+&ldquo;Just sail the best we can and hope that
+he won&rsquo;t close in on us before we come across some
+other boat.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Maybe Jones won&rsquo;t find our spinnaker,&rdquo; Sandy
+suggested. &ldquo;If he thinks he&rsquo;s on his own boat, he
+knows he hasn&rsquo;t got a spinnaker below, and maybe
+he won&rsquo;t see any reason to go poking around in
+our sail locker.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_154">154</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I wouldn&rsquo;t bet on it,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;We can
+make a mistake like this&mdash;and make it twice&mdash;because
+neither of us is really familiar with your
+boat. But a good sailor like Jones knows his own
+boat the way he knows his own living room. He
+isn&rsquo;t going to be fooled the same way we were!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Still,&rdquo; Sandy reasoned, &ldquo;that&rsquo;s no guarantee
+he&rsquo;s going to go to our sail locker, is it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s almost a sure bet,&rdquo; Jerry replied. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s
+probably got Turk looking around now to see
+what kind of extra canvas we might have on board,
+and when he finds that spinnaker, we can kiss our
+chances goodbye!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, he hasn&rsquo;t found it yet,&rdquo; Sandy said stubbornly.
+&ldquo;And until he does, there must be something
+we can do to get more speed out of this
+boat!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Stirring out of his gloom, Jerry trimmed the
+mainsheet and then the jib. Then suddenly he
+brightened. &ldquo;Say! I remember reading about one
+trick that might help us. It&rsquo;s called wing-and-winging.
+What you do is rig the jib on the opposite
+side from the mainsail when you&rsquo;ve got the wind
+at your back. It&rsquo;s supposed to act almost like a
+spinnaker.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, let&rsquo;s do it!&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;What do you
+want me to do?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_155">155</div>
+<p>&ldquo;You just hold the course, like before,&rdquo; Jerry
+explained. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll go forward and re-rig. When I tell
+you to, you uncleat the jenny sheet, and I&rsquo;ll swing
+the sail around on the other side and brace it out.
+I&rsquo;ll use the boat hook for a whisker pole to hold it
+in place. Maybe this&rsquo;ll turn the trick!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He clambered forward, and once more Sandy
+was left alone with the tiller, the star and the
+masthead. For a few minutes he thought only of
+holding the course, until he heard Jerry&rsquo;s voice,
+&ldquo;Now!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Leaning forward, Sandy uncleated the sheet
+which held the genoa jib in trim, where it had
+flown almost useless before the mainsail. He
+watched eagerly as Jerry hauled the sail around to
+the windward side, lashed the boat hook to the
+clew and swung the big triangle outboard. Almost
+instantly, the jenny started to fill, and Sandy felt
+the little sloop start forward.</p>
+<p>Jerry quickly leaped into the cockpit and
+secured the sheet, trimming the billowing sail.
+&ldquo;It&rsquo;s working!&rdquo; he panted. &ldquo;This may just turn
+the trick!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They listened in satisfaction to the increased
+sound of the waves slipping past the sloop&rsquo;s sides
+and muttering in the wake. They could actually
+feel the difference in the motion of the boat.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_156">156</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Jones has probably had his jib winged out all
+this time,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s why he&rsquo;s been
+closing in on us so fast. Maybe this will keep the
+distance the way it is until we can get ashore or
+get help!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I sure hope so!&rdquo; Sandy agreed.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Just hope he doesn&rsquo;t find that spinnaker! As
+long as we&rsquo;re both flying the same sail area, and
+as long as we&rsquo;re both heading downwind, there&rsquo;s
+not much he can do to catch us. Running before
+the wind this way, equal boats with equal canvas
+flown in the same way will come out just about
+the same. It&rsquo;s on a reach, or beating against the
+wind that expert sail handling really makes the
+difference. And I&rsquo;m sure glad we&rsquo;re not on some
+other point of sail, because Jones would outsail
+us every time!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>With that thought to cheer them, the boys
+sailed in silence. Above them, clouds occasionally
+blotted out the stars of the dark moonless night,
+and it was hard to set a course by any one of them.
+At the helm, Jerry steered as much by the feel of
+the wind on his back as by the stars he could see.</p>
+<p>Behind them always, never drawing any nearer,
+but never falling astern, was the white blur of
+Jones&rsquo;s canvas. It was as if the two boats were tied
+together with a fixed length of cable or a rigid
+bar that would not allow the gap between them to
+change.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_157">157</div>
+<p>The race went slowly. It was like a chase in
+some fantastic dream, Sandy thought, a dream
+where he was running in slow motion, trying with
+every ounce of strength to make his legs go faster.</p>
+<p>But there was a difference, for here there was
+no exertion, no strain, except on the nerves. Here
+all was, to a casual glance, peaceful and pleasant.
+If any boat were to pass, all its passengers would
+see would be two pretty sloops, out for a night-time
+sail.</p>
+<p>Suppose another boat did come? How would
+they know? Then Sandy remembered the flare
+pistol. He had put it on the seat when they had
+come aboard! Maybe the bulky brass gun would
+come in handy again! He searched the night for
+some sign of a boat&rsquo;s running lights, but saw only
+the same black sea and sky on all sides. Still, perhaps
+nearer shore....</p>
+<p>The nightmarish quality of the race increased
+as each moment wore on. It seemed to Sandy that
+he was doomed to sail on forever, like the legendary
+Flying Dutchman, never getting to shore,
+never getting within hailing distance of another
+boat.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_158">158</div>
+<p>He strained his eyes against the darkness ahead,
+and then turned to look astern at the following
+shape of Jones&rsquo;s boat, stubbornly staying with
+them at the same fixed distance. He almost wished
+that Jones would in some way catch up, just to
+break the tension. Maybe in a fight, there would
+be a chance! At least, they wouldn&rsquo;t just be sitting
+and waiting.</p>
+<p>As he watched, something on the pursuing
+sloop seemed to change. A shimmer of white sails,
+then nothing.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Jerry!&rdquo; Sandy whispered, gripping his friend&rsquo;s
+arm. &ldquo;Look back there! I thought I saw something
+change in his sails. I couldn&rsquo;t tell for sure, but
+doesn&rsquo;t it seem to you that the shape is different
+now?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jerry squinted back at Jones&rsquo;s boat. &ldquo;I think
+you&rsquo;re right,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;It looks as if he&rsquo;s changed
+his sail trim some way. I wonder what he&rsquo;s got up
+his sleeve this time?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you think he&rsquo;s found our spinnaker?&rdquo;
+Sandy asked.</p>
+<p>As if in answer, the white shape behind them
+altered once more. A new piece was added to it&mdash;a
+long, flapping shape. As they watched, fascinated
+and fearful, but unable to do a thing, the long
+white triangle billowed out, changed into a full,
+taut shape and lifted high above the deck of
+Jones&rsquo;s boat.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_159">159</div>
+<p>&ldquo;So that&rsquo;s a spinnaker,&rdquo; Sandy said.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It sure is,&rdquo; Jerry answered grimly. &ldquo;Take a
+good look at it, because it may turn out to be the
+last one we&rsquo;ll ever see!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_160">160</div>
+<h2 id="c15"><span class="small">CHAPTER FIFTEEN</span>
+<br />Turn and Turn Again</h2>
+<p>As Jones&rsquo;s spinnaker filled and lofted, a fresh
+breeze came up from astern, tugged at the rigging,
+tightened the sails and sent the boys&rsquo; sloop ahead
+at a sharper pace.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Feel the breeze!&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;Maybe that&rsquo;ll
+help us out of trouble!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I wouldn&rsquo;t bet on it,&rdquo; Jerry replied. &ldquo;The
+same breeze is helping Jones, and he&rsquo;s got an awful
+big sail up to catch it!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Even so, Jerry,&rdquo; Sandy objected, &ldquo;I seem to remember
+you saying something that ought to give
+us a chance now....&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_161">161</div>
+<p>&ldquo;If you do, you&rsquo;d better let me know,&rdquo; Jerry
+said, &ldquo;because I sure don&rsquo;t feel very full of ideas
+now.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy wrinkled his brow and strained at his
+memory. There seemed to be some fact, some idea
+half remembered from all Jerry had told him, that
+ought to help. He looked astern, and the sight of
+Jones&rsquo;s sloop bearing down on them and swiftly
+closing the gap between the two racing boats,
+seemed to have just the stimulating effect he was
+looking for.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know!&rdquo; he almost shouted. &ldquo;Didn&rsquo;t you say
+that we can do better on a reach than a boat with
+a spinnaker can do downwind?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s right,&rdquo; Jerry said doubtfully. &ldquo;But we
+have to sail a downwind course to get to shore.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, what&rsquo;s your hurry?&rdquo; Sandy asked. &ldquo;Why
+don&rsquo;t we put off going ashore just now? I mean, if
+we take off on a reach, maybe we can lose Jones in
+the dark before he can change sails to follow us. If
+we can just put some distance between us, we can
+head back for shore later!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_162">162</div>
+<p>Jerry clapped Sandy on the shoulder and
+shouted, &ldquo;You&rsquo;re right!&rdquo; Then he looked back at
+Jones&rsquo;s boat, clear in shape, but not in detail. &ldquo;I
+wish I could see how he has his spinnaker sheeted,
+but I can&rsquo;t make it out. Still, let&rsquo;s just take a
+chance.&rdquo; He looked at Sandy in admiration. &ldquo;Boy,
+you&rsquo;re sure catching on fast! That was a real racing
+sailor&rsquo;s idea!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Carefully selecting the best course to give their
+boat the most speed and to lose the least time in
+putting about, Jerry instructed Sandy.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;re going to jibe,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;but don&rsquo;t worry.
+This is going to be deliberate, not accidental. It&rsquo;s
+the accidental jibes that wreck the rigging. We&rsquo;re
+going to put about this way so&rsquo;s not to waste time
+shifting the genoa jib to the other side. As soon
+as I&rsquo;ve got that whisker pole ready to come off,
+we&rsquo;ll do it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He went forward, and after a moment&rsquo;s work,
+quickly returned to the cockpit. &ldquo;Ready now,&rdquo;
+Jerry said. &ldquo;I&rsquo;ll take the tiller and you take the
+mainsheet. As I start to put about, you haul in on
+the sheet, until the boom is right over the keel
+of the boat. Then I&rsquo;ll put her hard over, and you
+let the sail out evenly on the other side until I say
+stop. Got it?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Sandy wasn&rsquo;t sure, but he figured that this was
+no time for more detailed instruction on the art
+of the deliberate jibe. Holding the mainsheet, and
+his breath, he silently hoped that he knew what
+he was doing. One mistake now&mdash;the wrong kind
+of jibe, that could wreck the rigging&mdash;would
+surely put them back in Jones&rsquo;s hands.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_163">163</div>
+<p>He watched Jerry carefully, and, following his
+instructions, started to haul in on the mainsheet.
+It came very lightly and easily. Remembering the
+terrific force of the jibe on the first day&rsquo;s sailing,
+though, Sandy knew enough not to be fooled by
+appearances. He shortened the sheet so that he
+would not be taken unawares when the wind
+caught the mainsail on its new tack.</p>
+<p>A few seconds of hauling and shortening
+brought the mainsail directly over the center of
+the boat, with the sheet securing it tightly against
+the dangerous sudden jibe. Then, as Jerry brought
+the sloop about hard on her new course, the wind
+took the sail. The boat heeled far over, leaning its
+lee side into the waves through which they were
+cutting with a new speed.</p>
+<p>Sandy held hard to the sheet, the pull of which
+was almost cutting his hand. The load of wind in
+the taut sail transmitted its strength to the sheet,
+and became a hauling, tug-of-war enemy.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Let her out!&rdquo; Jerry shouted. &ldquo;More! More!
+Okay ... hold her there!&rdquo; Sandy felt some of the
+pull lessen as he allowed the sail to swing farther
+out over the side. &ldquo;Good,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;Now
+take the tiller&mdash;hold everything as it is&mdash;while I
+free the jenny and trim it properly.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_164">164</div>
+<p>Sandy, the mainsheet wound tightly about his
+right hand, took the tiller in his left, while Jerry
+went forward to do his job. He was burning with
+eagerness to look back to see how their maneuver
+had affected Jones, but he didn&rsquo;t dare. He had
+too much to think about to take his eyes away even
+for a second from his own work of sailing. This
+was the first time he had handled both the tiller
+and mainsheet and it was really the first time he
+had actually handled the boat. There was a new
+sense of command now and of real control. The
+feel of the boat was complete. It almost seemed
+alive. His hands told him how a change of rudder
+position worked a change on the sail, or how a
+shift of the mainsail, a few inches in or out, affected
+the pull on the helm.</p>
+<p>In a few minutes, Jerry was back in the cockpit,
+trimming the genoa sheet and setting the sail
+in its best shape ahead of and overlapping the
+mainsail. When all was made fast, he took the
+tiller from Sandy once more, and the boys were at
+last free to look back.</p>
+<p>What they saw was not encouraging. As they
+had expected, the change of course had increased
+the distance between them and Jones, but the
+distance was not great enough to take them out
+of sight. A few minutes of looking revealed that
+they were not likely to outdistance Jones on this
+tack any more than they had on the downwind
+run.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_165">165</div>
+<p>&ldquo;How come we can&rsquo;t beat him?&rdquo; Sandy asked.
+&ldquo;He surely hasn&rsquo;t had time to get his spinnaker
+down and his genoa up, has he?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;He didn&rsquo;t have to,&rdquo; Jerry answered. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s
+using his spinnaker now as if it were a genoa. It&rsquo;s a
+good stunt. What he did was to bring the spinnaker
+pole forward and lash it to the deck, so that
+it made a kind of bowsprit. Then he sheeted the
+sail flat. It makes a powerful sail that way.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What if he wants to go on the opposite tack?&rdquo;
+Sandy asked. &ldquo;How can he put about?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jerry grinned. &ldquo;I think you&rsquo;ve done it again,
+Skipper,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s the best question you&rsquo;ve
+asked all night!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo; Sandy asked, puzzled.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I mean that he can&rsquo;t put about on the other
+tack without an awful lot of trouble. We can, and
+we will, and with luck we&rsquo;ll lose him that way!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>This time the maneuver was a familiar one of
+bringing the sloop up into the wind, shifting the
+genoa jib and coming off the wind to the new
+tack. It was performed smoothly, both boys working
+like an experienced crew.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_166">166</div>
+<p>On the new tack, they looked about once more
+for Jones&rsquo;s following sloop. As they had hoped,
+the strange zigzag they had described had left him
+far astern, but still in sight. Even as they watched,
+they saw Jones drop his spinnaker and re-rig it on
+the new tack. Once more, he was in pursuit!</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ve never seen anyone handle sails that well,&rdquo;
+Jerry said in unwilling admiration.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you think we can outmaneuver him?&rdquo;
+Sandy asked.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, we might keep up the sort of thing we&rsquo;ve
+been doing,&rdquo; Jerry answered. &ldquo;If we keep changing
+tacks, we can probably keep him out of close
+shooting range all night. Then, by morning, we
+can hope to see some other boats and maybe get
+help. There&rsquo;s only one thing wrong with that
+plan, though.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know,&rdquo; Sandy offered. &ldquo;We&rsquo;re all right as
+long as we don&rsquo;t make any mistakes. But the
+minute we goof on one maneuver, we lose the
+race! Right?&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_167">167</div>
+<p>&ldquo;Right,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;Still, I don&rsquo;t see what else
+we can do but try. We haven&rsquo;t got much choice.&rdquo;
+As they sailed on in silence, Sandy reviewed
+their situation. The trouble with their plan was
+a simple one. They had to do a perfect job of sailing,
+and he doubted whether they were up to it.
+All Jones had to do was follow their maneuvers,
+and when they made their first mistake, he would
+close in. There was no hope, he could see, in waiting
+for Jones to make the first mistake himself.
+The man was too good for that.</p>
+<p>If only they could find some new way to take the
+initiative, things might work out, Sandy thought.
+This cat-and-mouse game couldn&rsquo;t possibly do any
+good. Besides, even if they could hold out till day-light,
+there was no guarantee that they would get
+help from any other boat before Jones could finish
+the job. After all, lack of light was all that was preventing
+Jones from firing at them now. When
+morning came, it would most likely be accompanied
+by a hail of shots!</p>
+<p>The more Sandy thought, the less it seemed that
+they could find a way out of their desperate straits.
+Then his gloomy thoughts were interrupted by
+Jerry.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Got any more ideas?&rdquo; he asked. &ldquo;I know it&rsquo;s my
+turn to think up a good one, but I can&rsquo;t seem to
+come up with a thing.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t know,&rdquo; Sandy answered. &ldquo;It seems to
+me though, that we&rsquo;re going to have to do something
+really different now if we&rsquo;re going to get
+back to shore in one piece!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Then he suddenly sat up straighter, pushing
+back his blond forelock. &ldquo;Jerry! I think I have an
+idea!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_168">168</div>
+<p>&ldquo;What is it?&rdquo; Jerry asked eagerly.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It may sound crazy, but I want to go back on
+a downwind course again!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jerry looked puzzled. &ldquo;A downwind course?
+Sandy, we don&rsquo;t have a chance that way! That&rsquo;s
+the way we were sailing when Jones first started
+after us, and with his spinnaker in place, he&rsquo;ll have
+us in no time!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I know,&rdquo; Sandy said, &ldquo;but I have an idea that
+might work this time. I want Jones to get close&mdash;real
+close&mdash;to try this!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Jerry shook his head. &ldquo;It sounds nutty to me,&rdquo;
+he said, &ldquo;but if you think you&rsquo;ve got something
+that&rsquo;ll work, I&rsquo;m game. Just tell me what....&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not now, Jerry,&rdquo; Sandy cut him off. &ldquo;Let&rsquo;s just
+change course while I work out the details. If we
+don&rsquo;t do this now, I might lose my nerve!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll do it,&rdquo; Jerry agreed, shaking his head
+doubtfully from side to side. &ldquo;But what worries
+me isn&rsquo;t that you might lose your nerve. I&rsquo;m afraid
+that you&rsquo;ve already lost your mind!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_169">169</div>
+<h2 id="c16"><span class="small">CHAPTER SIXTEEN</span>
+<br />The End of the Race</h2>
+<p>It was still pitch-dark on the Pacific, miles off
+Cliffport, but Sandy saw a dim, gray smear of light
+in the east that told him dawn was not too far off.
+Dawn&mdash;and the shots it would bring from Jones
+and Turk!</p>
+<p>If his plan didn&rsquo;t work now, it would never
+work, he knew. This was to be really a one-shot
+try! But better to try, he felt, than to tack aimlessly
+back and forth, waiting for Jones to close in.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_170">170</div>
+<p>Almost mechanically, Sandy helped Jerry put
+the sloop about on her new course before the
+wind. Once again the genoa jib was held out wing-and-wing
+with the boat hook, and once again the
+mainsheet exercised only a light pull in his hand.
+With everything set, Sandy and Jerry turned their
+attention to the sloop behind them.</p>
+<p>The pursuing white sails shone dimly through
+the darkness as Jones followed them in their
+course. His spinnaker, released from its duty as a
+genoa, was once more flying full and round before
+him, taking advantage of every puff of wind at his
+back. It was a foregone conclusion that he would
+catch them now, unless they were even faster than
+before in putting about on some new tack.</p>
+<p>Jerry could not stand the suspense a moment
+longer. &ldquo;Sandy, what are you going to do?&rdquo; he
+cried. &ldquo;Whatever it is, if we don&rsquo;t do it now,
+we&rsquo;re goners!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not yet,&rdquo; Sandy muttered. &ldquo;He&rsquo;s got to get
+closer!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If he gets any closer, he&rsquo;s going to start shooting,&rdquo;
+Jerry replied. &ldquo;What do we do then?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ve got to be ready for it,&rdquo; Sandy answered.
+&ldquo;I expect him to shoot, and I expect him to start
+pretty soon. In fact, we&rsquo;d better get down as far
+as possible right now!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_171">171</div>
+<p>Both boys sat together on the cockpit deck, Jerry
+awkwardly steering and Sandy holding the mainsheet
+in his left hand. &ldquo;You steer, Jerry,&rdquo; he said.
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;m going to turn around so I can keep an eye
+on Jones. I expect the fireworks to start any
+minute now!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I can do without the entertainment,&rdquo; Jerry
+said. Then he added once more, &ldquo;Boy, I sure hope
+you know what you&rsquo;re doing! If you don&rsquo;t....&rdquo;
+His voice trailed off.</p>
+<p>Half kneeling, Sandy crouched by the stern seat,
+keeping as much under cover as possible. Over the
+edge of the afterdeck he saw Jones&rsquo;s sloop, closer
+now than it had been ever since their fantastic race
+had begun. For some reason, Jones was holding
+back, not closing in as fast as he had been before.
+Sandy knew that he must be puzzled, and trying
+to figure out what their next move would be. His
+success depended on outthinking them as much as
+it did on outsailing them, and his skill lay largely
+in his ability to guess what maneuver the boys
+were going to try next. This time, Sandy thought,
+he must really be baffled. No one in his right mind
+would try to escape as they were doing!</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_172">172</div>
+<p>For minutes that seemed like hours, the chase
+continued with Jones making no effort to advance.
+Then, Sandy realized, Jones made up his mind to
+attack. His sails were trimmed fuller, his spinnaker
+lofted higher, and a white bow wave broke
+out to signify Jones&rsquo;s new speed. There wasn&rsquo;t
+much time left now before things would start
+popping!</p>
+<p>By now, less than one hundred yards separated
+the two boats. Not much more distance, Sandy
+thought, than a target range. Still, it wasn&rsquo;t quite
+close enough....</p>
+<p>A shot! As they heard the crack of the pistol, the
+whine of the bullet passed overhead! Another shot&mdash;another&mdash;and
+a piece of the coaming splintered
+off uncomfortably close to Sandy&rsquo;s ear!</p>
+<p>Jones&rsquo;s boat surged on, preceded by a rain of
+shots. Now less than fifty yards of water were between
+them! More shots followed, mostly going
+through the sails. With a <i>thunk</i>, one hit the hull&mdash;another
+gouged up the deck&mdash;a third hit the tiller,
+not six inches from Jerry&rsquo;s hand.</p>
+<p>Jerry&rsquo;s face looked white as he craned his neck
+to look up at his friend. &ldquo;Whatever you&rsquo;re planning,
+I wish you&rsquo;d tell me now,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;Because
+I may not be around to see the big moment when
+it comes!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;ll be here,&rdquo; Sandy said, &ldquo;because the big
+moment is now! Turn around with me and watch
+Jones&rsquo;s boat. If this works, it&rsquo;s going to be something
+worth watching!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_173">173</div>
+<p>As Jerry changed his position, he saw for the
+first time that Sandy had the big brass flare gun in
+his hand! He was cocking it carefully, and keeping
+an eye on Jones&rsquo;s sloop which seemed to be almost
+ready to ram them. Lying flat on the foredeck of
+the pursuing boat, they could clearly see the figure
+of Turk, hurriedly reloading his pistol.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re not going to try to shoot him with
+that?&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;Those things are way too inaccurate!
+You won&rsquo;t stand a chance!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not him,&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;It!&rdquo; He steadied the
+flare gun on the edge of the afterdeck and squinted
+down its length, aiming at the spinnaker!</p>
+<p>Seeing now what Sandy was attempting, Jerry
+crouched beside him and held his breath. Sandy
+waited till almost the last possible minute until,
+just as Turk was raising his pistol to fire once
+more, he released the flare.</p>
+<p>A dazzling arc of fire leaped from the brass
+muzzle straight for the bellying spinnaker! It
+landed in a shower of sparks, bright enough to
+show them Turk&rsquo;s astonished face turned upward
+to see what had hit them. The shot had hit
+squarely in the center of the ballooning sail, burning
+a small, red-ringed hole which slowly spread.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_174">174</div>
+<p>Would this be all? Just a spreading ring of coals
+that would die in a minute or two? If this was all,
+it was not enough! Then, just as Sandy was beginning
+to fear that he had made a mistake that might
+well cost them everything, the sail burst into
+flame!</p>
+<p>The column of fire shot straight upward into
+the blackness of the night, vividly illuminating
+both boats. In its brilliant light, the boys saw
+Turk stand up, black against the flames, then
+leap overboard.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;One down!&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;But what about
+Jones?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As the flaming spinnaker spread its fire to the
+mainsail and the mast, they saw Jones rise in the
+cockpit, level his rifle and shoot. Six shots rang
+out in quick succession, and all six whizzed harmlessly
+by. Then Jones flung his empty gun into the
+sea and turned his attention to the fire.</p>
+<p>Jerry and Sandy sailed slowly away from the
+flaming scene, and then started to sail in a circle
+around it, still watching Jones. He had gotten a
+bucket from below, and was throwing sea water,
+as fast as he could scoop it up, over the burning
+and the unburned parts of the sloop. The fire was
+gaining though, and his efforts were obviously
+doomed to failure.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;If he hadn&rsquo;t been so busy shooting when the
+fire started,&rdquo; Jerry said, &ldquo;he would have stood a
+good chance of putting it out. The delay is going
+to sink him!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_175">175</div>
+<p>Jones worked feverishly until the last possible
+moment, until the decks and the cabin were
+aflame, and the fire had spread to the little cockpit.
+Finally, when it was obvious that there was no
+more he could do, he kicked off his shoes and
+jumped over the side.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do we do now?&rdquo; Sandy asked. &ldquo;We can&rsquo;t
+just leave them there to drown. They probably
+deserve it, but I don&rsquo;t think it&rsquo;s up to us to judge
+what kind of sentence they get.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;You&rsquo;re right,&rdquo; Jerry agreed. &ldquo;But if we take
+them aboard, we won&rsquo;t stand much of a chance
+against them. Why don&rsquo;t we try to find them and
+toss them a couple of life jackets so they can stay
+afloat while we make up our minds?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>It was no trouble to find Turk, who came
+swimming up to the side to beg to be taken
+aboard. Sandy kept the empty flare pistol aimed
+at him while Jerry looked for the life jackets.
+When he had found them, he tossed one over the
+side, and Turk struggled into it. Then, still
+frightened of the flare gun which he did not know
+was empty, he held up his hands tamely to allow
+Jerry to tie them together.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Now will ya lemme come on board?&rdquo; he
+pleaded.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_176">176</div>
+<p>&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t think so,&rdquo; Sandy answered. &ldquo;I think
+you&rsquo;ll be safer at the end of a long line. Just relax,
+and we&rsquo;ll tow you back to shore!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>With Turk in tow, the sloop handled rather
+sluggishly as the boys circled the scene of the fire
+searching for Jones. The bright light of the flames
+had died to a glowing, dull orange which was soon
+to go out altogether as the sloop settled lower and
+lower in the water.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What we need is a searchlight,&rdquo; Jerry said.
+&ldquo;We may never find him unless he swims to us the
+way Turk did!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Listen!&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;If I&rsquo;m not mistaken, I
+hear a searchlight coming now!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Turning in the direction of the new sound of
+powerful marine motors, they were met with a
+bright searchlight beam, which swept from them
+to the burning sloop and back again. For the first
+time since their adventure had started, Sandy felt
+a genuine feeling of relief, as the Coast Guard
+cutter reversed its engines and came to a neat stop
+alongside.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_177">177</div>
+<h2 id="c17"><span class="small">CHAPTER SEVENTEEN</span>
+<br />Another Discovery</h2>
+<p>With the arrival of the Coast Guard, the problem
+of finding Jones solved itself. He quickly
+realized the hopelessness of his position and swam
+in from the darkness toward the cutter and the
+sloop, tamely giving himself up.</p>
+<p>It was only after he and Turk had both been
+taken on board the Coast Guard vessel and placed
+under guard that the captain of the cutter, Lieutenant
+Ames, started to ask the necessary questions.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_178">178</div>
+<p>He listened, absorbed in the story, until Sandy
+had finished talking. Then he sighed. &ldquo;That&rsquo;s
+quite a yarn, boys. It sounds pretty wild. For your
+sakes, I hope that you can show some evidence to
+back it up. Otherwise, all we have is your word.
+Now, your word may be good enough for me&mdash;&rdquo;
+he held up a hand to forestall Sandy&rsquo;s objections&mdash;&ldquo;but
+it&rsquo;s going to take more than that to make a
+charge of counterfeiting stick in a court of law.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ve <i>got</i> more than that!&rdquo; Sandy said angrily.
+&ldquo;We can show you the island, and unless I miss
+my guess, we&rsquo;ll find Jones&rsquo;s counterfeiting presses
+there!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I hope so,&rdquo; Lieutenant Ames said. &ldquo;Meanwhile,
+since you&rsquo;ve made charges against these
+men, I&rsquo;ll hold them in custody until we get ashore.
+Then I&rsquo;ll turn them and the whole case over to
+the FBI, where it belongs.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>His official statement done, Lieutenant Ames
+relaxed into a boyish grin. &ldquo;You can get those
+scowls off your faces now,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;I just wanted
+you to realize that we&rsquo;ve got to have good, solid
+proof before this business is over with. As for me,
+I believe your story, and I think the FBI will,
+too.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not too worried about proving our story
+about Jones and Turk,&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;But what
+worries me is how we&rsquo;re going to get the freighter,
+now that it&rsquo;s out of U.S. coastal waters.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_179">179</div>
+<p>&ldquo;The Navy will take care of them,&rdquo; Lieutenant
+Ames said. &ldquo;But that reminds me, you didn&rsquo;t tell
+me the name of the freighter, and we&rsquo;ll need to
+radio that to the Navy right away.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I noticed the name on the lifeboat,&rdquo; Jerry said.
+&ldquo;It was the <i>Mary N. Smith</i>, from Weymouth.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;No!&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;You must have gotten it
+mixed up in the darkness. I saw it clear as day on
+the stern. It was the <i>Martin South</i> from Yarmouth!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I&rsquo;m sure I had it right,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;I remember
+thinking to myself that it was a pretty
+innocent, girlish name for such a dirty freighter!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Maybe you&rsquo;re both right,&rdquo; Lieutenant Ames
+said. &ldquo;It sounds to me as if both names have a lot
+in common. They probably have a set of phony
+papers under each name&mdash;and maybe under
+three or four more names that sound a lot like
+those. That way, all they have to do is paint out
+and change a few letters after each port, instead
+of having the whole job to do. It allows them to
+make quick shifts of identity.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It also lets them explain that they were picked
+up because of an accidental similarity of names,
+in case of trouble,&rdquo; Jerry put in. &ldquo;I wonder what
+name they&rsquo;re using now,&rdquo; he added.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_180">180</div>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s pretty easy to guess,&rdquo; the Coast Guard
+officer said. &ldquo;If I were changing names after
+leaving a port, I&rsquo;d paint the bow and stern while
+I was at anchor, and leave the lifeboats and other
+things for when I was at sea. My guess is that
+we&rsquo;ll find them sailing as the <i>Martin South</i> from
+Yarmouth.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Unless,&rdquo; Sandy added, &ldquo;unless they decided to
+change it to something else while at sea, after the
+trouble. After all, they have no idea whether Jones
+got us or we got him, and they&rsquo;ll probably be expecting
+to get picked up.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, we won&rsquo;t take any chances,&rdquo; Ames said.
+&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll radio the Navy now to be on the lookout for
+any freighter with a name anything like <i>Martin
+South</i> or <i>Mary N. Smith</i>. And if I know those boys,
+we&rsquo;ll have a report on them within the next few
+hours!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>After giving his instructions to the radio operator,
+Ames decided it was time to head for shore
+and turn over Jones, Turk and the boys to the
+FBI. It was decided to take the sloop in tow
+behind the cutter, and Sandy went over the side
+to find a towing line to hand up to the cutter&rsquo;s
+deck.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Come on over with me,&rdquo; Sandy said, &ldquo;and
+I&rsquo;ll show you some of the bullet holes we&rsquo;re carrying.
+They ought to help support our story!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_181">181</div>
+<p>Lieutenant Ames followed Sandy over the side
+and joined him on the deck of the little sloop,
+where he examined the holes in the sail and the
+furrows in the deck and the coamings. &ldquo;They sure
+came close!&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;You&rsquo;re pretty lucky to be
+here in one piece now.&rdquo; He ran his finger thoughtfully
+along a deep scar in the coaming near where
+Sandy&rsquo;s head had been, and whistled low when he
+saw the splintered spot on the tiller.</p>
+<p>Lieutenant Ames followed Sandy below in
+search of the spare mooring line. (The original
+one had been left dangling from the deck of the
+freighter.) He stood stooped over in the low cabin,
+surveying the trim accommodations. At last, Sandy
+found a line that would do, stowed away up
+forward with the anchor.</p>
+<p>Joining Ames in the cabin, he pointed to the
+locker above the compact galley. &ldquo;There&rsquo;s where
+we found the money when we went looking for the
+canned food,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;It was filled up all the way
+to here,&rdquo; he indicated, sliding back the locker
+door.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;What do you mean, <i>was</i>?&rdquo; the Coast Guard
+officer asked with a gasp. The open locker door revealed
+the stacked counterfeit, untouched, just as
+the boys had first seen it!</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Whew!&rdquo; Sandy sighed. &ldquo;Well, I guess <i>that</i>
+takes care of our case against Jones!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_182">182</div>
+<p>As they towed the sloop back to Cliffport, heading
+into the bright colors of a Pacific sunrise, they
+pieced together what must have happened.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;From what we overheard on the freighter,&rdquo;
+Sandy said, &ldquo;Jones and the freighter captain were
+both dissatisfied with the original deal they had
+made for the counterfeit money. Jones wanted
+more for the stuff, because of the risk he had run
+with us and because of the added chances he was
+taking if we disappeared from Cliffport. A local
+investigation of our disappearance might turn up
+someone who had seen us near his island.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Right,&rdquo; Jerry added. &ldquo;And the Captain wanted
+a larger share than usual for himself because of
+the risk he was running in getting rid of us for
+Jones. They bargained about it for a long time.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Lieutenant Ames nodded. &ldquo;And Jones wasn&rsquo;t
+taking any chances by bringing the money on
+board until his deal had been settled. He must
+have been going for it when you saw him and the
+Captain shaking hands on deck. And the reason
+he was so desperate when he saw you sailing off
+was that he knew you were not only escaping,
+but escaping with the evidence!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I guess it&rsquo;s not always a bad thing,&rdquo; Sandy
+laughed, &ldquo;to make the same mistake twice!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_183">183</div>
+<h2 id="c18"><span class="small">CHAPTER EIGHTEEN</span>
+<br />Homeward Bound</h2>
+<p>Three days later, the case ended where it had
+really begun&mdash;back in the Cliffport Boat Yard.
+Only this time, Sandy and Jerry picked their way
+over the timbers and rails with Lieutenant Ames
+instead of with Sandy&rsquo;s Uncle Russ.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I guess you boys are glad this is all over,&rdquo; he
+said. &ldquo;I suppose you&rsquo;re all set for your trip home
+now?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We sure are,&rdquo; Jerry said. &ldquo;We just need to buy
+a few things, and we&rsquo;re ready.&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_184">184</div>
+<p>&ldquo;It was sure nice of the FBI to let us have
+Jones&rsquo;s sloop as part of the reward,&rdquo; Sandy added.
+&ldquo;I felt pretty bad when I saw my boat on fire. I
+was sure that if we ever got back to shore, we&rsquo;d
+be taking the train home!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;There was no sense in keeping it,&rdquo; Ames said.
+&ldquo;Not even for evidence. We had all the evidence
+we needed with that bundle of counterfeit money&mdash;and
+even more than that, with the printing
+press and the plates we found at Jones&rsquo;s little
+resort. And everyone agreed that you ought to
+have it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They walked along the sea wall until they
+reached the corner of the shed, where Lieutenant
+Ames suddenly stopped. &ldquo;As long as you&rsquo;re thanking
+the FBI for the boat,&rdquo; he said, &ldquo;I think you
+might as well thank the Coast Guard too!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, of course,&rdquo; Sandy said, puzzled. &ldquo;I only
+meant that it was the FBI who really had title to
+it, and they were the ones who decided.... I
+mean, we&rsquo;re grateful to you all.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Ames laughed. &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t want to keep you in the
+dark,&rdquo; he said. &ldquo;The FBI gave you the boat, all
+right, but we decided to pitch in a little, too.
+Look!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>They turned the corner of the boat-yard shed.
+In front of them, resting in a high cradle, was the
+sloop, freshly painted and gleaming in the sun,
+her sides as smooth as glass.</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_185">185</div>
+<p>After both boys had thanked Lieutenant Ames
+profusely, Jerry asked, &ldquo;How did you ever get so
+much done in just three days?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Oh, that&rsquo;s the Coast Guard way with boats,&rdquo;
+Ames said and he laughed. &ldquo;A whole gang of the
+boys decided to go to work on her, and we did in
+three days what would take most boat yards a
+week or two. It started when we decided to fix up
+the bullet scars, and it just didn&rsquo;t stop until we
+had finished the whole thing!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Climbing to the deck, they inspected the newly
+painted cabin and cockpit, the freshly varnished
+coamings and mast, the almost invisible repairs
+on the decks.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;We&rsquo;ll have her launched within the next
+hour,&rdquo; Lieutenant Ames said. &ldquo;Why don&rsquo;t you go
+into town to buy whatever you need in the meanwhile?
+It shouldn&rsquo;t take you too long to get stores
+for a short trip.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;That&rsquo;s a good idea,&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;But we&rsquo;re
+going to need more than the regular stores. I&rsquo;m
+going to spend some of that reward money right
+away on a new spinnaker. That&rsquo;s one thing I&rsquo;ve
+decided never to be without again!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Not only that,&rdquo; Jerry added, &ldquo;but we want to
+get some more shells for the flare pistol. I don&rsquo;t
+think I&rsquo;ll ever feel comfortable without that on
+board!&rdquo;</p>
+<div class="pb" id="Page_186">186</div>
+<p>&ldquo;There&rsquo;s something else, too,&rdquo; Sandy said. &ldquo;I
+think we ought to think up a name for this boat
+right away, and pick up some brass letters for the
+stern. I don&rsquo;t want to keep on making mistakes!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Ames joined in the laughter, then said, &ldquo;That&rsquo;s
+one thing I think you don&rsquo;t have to do. That is,
+unless you don&rsquo;t like the name the Coast Guard
+picked out for you!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Rushing to the stern, Sandy and Jerry leaned
+over to see the shiny brass letters screwed to the
+counter of their sloop. Looked at upside down,
+they spelled:</p>
+<p class="center">REWARD</p>
+<div class="box">
+<h3 id="c19">SANDY STEELE ADVENTURES</h3>
+<p class="center rubric">1. BLACK TREASURE</p>
+<p>Sandy Steele and Quiz spend an action-filled summer
+in the oil fields of the Southwest. In their search for oil
+and uranium, they unmask a dangerous masquerader.</p>
+<p class="center rubric">2. DANGER AT MORMON CROSSING</p>
+<p>On a hunting trip in the Lost River section of Idaho,
+Sandy and Mike ride the rapids, bag a mountain lion,
+and stumble onto the answer to a hundred-year-old
+mystery.</p>
+<p class="center rubric">3. STORMY VOYAGE</p>
+<p>Sandy and Jerry James ship as deck hands on one of
+the &ldquo;long boats&rdquo; of the Great Lakes. They are plunged
+into a series of adventures and find themselves involved
+in a treacherous plot.</p>
+<p class="center rubric">4. FIRE AT RED LAKE</p>
+<p>Sandy and his friends pitch in to fight a forest fire in
+Minnesota. Only they and Sandy&rsquo;s uncle know that
+there is an unexploded A-bomb in the area to add to
+the danger.</p>
+<p class="center rubric">5. SECRET MISSION TO ALASKA</p>
+<p>A pleasant Christmas trip turns into a startling adventure.
+Sandy and Jerry participate in a perilous dog-sled
+race, encounter a wounded bear, and are taken as
+hostages by a ruthless enemy.</p>
+<p class="center rubric">6. TROUBLED WATERS</p>
+<p>When Sandy and Jerry mistakenly sail off in a stranger&rsquo;s
+sloop instead of their own, they land in a sea of trouble.
+Their attempts to outmaneuver a desperate crew are
+intertwined with fascinating sailing lore.</p>
+<p class="center"><b>PUBLISHED BY SIMON AND SCHUSTER</b></p>
+</div>
+<h2 id="tn">Transcriber&rsquo;s Note</h2><ul><li>Copyright notice provided as in the original&mdash;this e-text is public domain in the country of publication.</li>
+<li>Silently corrected apparent typographical errors; left non-standard
+  spellings and dialect unchanged.</li>
+<li>In the original, the last word in the text was printed upside down.</li>
+</ul>
+
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<p>&nbsp;</p>
+<hr class="full" />
+<p class="pg">***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TROUBLED WATERS***</p>
+<p class="pg">******* This file should be named 50353-h.htm or 50353-h.zip *******</p>
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