Lost in Gator Swamp (11 page)

Joe and Chet had found a perfect hiding spot behind some crab traps stacked on the docks.

While he answered Chet's question, Joe kept his eyes glued to the
Hammerhead
, a deep-sea fishing boat that the dockmaster said belonged to Salty Hubbard. “When I was hiding in the swamp, two men walked by, searching for us,” Joe recalled. “One voice was Zack Platt's, and I was so certain Trent Furman was his partner, I mistook the other voice to be his.”

“But it was Salty Hubbard, the man in the white hat,” Chet concluded. “Wow!” Chet's voice grew louder with his excitement. “So he's the one who sabotaged Dusty's hydroplane and who also left you stuck in the quicksand!”

“That's my guess,” Joe replied.

“Still, Trent Furman must be involved,” Chet added.

“I'm guessing he's the one who conked Barney Quick on the head and stole his costume,” Joe said.

“But why would Trent Furman pose as a rodeo rider in the first place?” Chet wondered.

“So he could stay at the fishing camp near the lost gold and keep an eye on everyone,” Joe said. “It also allowed him to roam anywhere on the rodeo grounds without seeming suspicious.”

“And to pick Randy's lock in the bunkhouse,” Chet ventured.

“Shh!” Joe suddenly warned his friend to quiet down. Hurrying past the dockmaster's shack and toward the slip where the
Hammerhead
was moored was none other than Trent Furman.

“He's going to board the
Hammerhead,”
Chet whispered.

“Good,” Joe whispered back. “So will we.”

“Are you nuts?” Chet's whisper was more intense. “Why don't we just call the police?”

“We don't have enough proof to get them arrested,” Joe explained. “For the police to start their own investigation, it would take days, and I don't
think these crooks are planning to stick around much longer. We need to catch them red-handed.”

Climbing out from behind the crab traps, they scurried down the dock past fishing vessels, sailboats, and yachts until they reached the slip where the
Hammerhead
was moored.

Joe signaled Chet to stay low and out of the light coming from inside the cabin of the
Hammerhead
. Walking lightly up the gangplank, Joe stepped onto the deck.

The gangplank creaked loudly under Chet's heavy foot. Chet froze.

When no one emerged from the cabin to check on the noise, Joe motioned for Chet to come aboard. “Stay here,” he whispered.

Joe got down on his knees and crawled along the outside of the main cabin until he could see through a lit window.

Trent Furman and Salty Hubbard appeared to be having a heated argument.

I've got to be able to hear what they're saying, Joe thought. Craning his neck to look around, he saw that the cabin door toward the rear of the boat had been left open.

He slipped quietly around the outside of the main cabin and crouched outside the open door.

“It's time to give up the search and make a run for it across the Gulf of Mexico,” Joe overheard Furman telling Salty. “Those kids are on to us now,
and after another storm hits Gator Swamp, we'll never be able to find those coins.”

“If you hadn't been so careless leaving the sacks near the bow of the airboat,” Salty retorted angrily, “we wouldn't have lost them overboard in the first place!”

“I'm a safecracker,” Furman shouted back, “not a sailor or cowboy or treasure hunter!”

A voice transmission suddenly came over the shortwave radio. “This is Gatortail to
Hammerhead,”
a deep voice announced. “I have located lost cargo and will have it on board in thirty minutes.”

Furman and Hubbard's scowls turned to grins as Hubbard picked up the radio's hand receiver. “That's a big ten-four, Gatortail. Have you isolated the enemy camp? Over.”

“The enemy camp is isolated,” the voice on the radio reported, “and I left behind a little extra surprise for our young detectives.”

Joe tried to decode their messages. The voice on the radio sounded like it belonged to Zack Platt, whose code name must be Gatortail. The lost cargo probably meant the gold coins. But what did Platt mean when he said, “The enemy camp is isolated,” and what was the “extra surprise”? Joe wasn't sure he wanted to find out.

“Good work, Gatortail,” Hubbard was saying. “We'll rendezvous in Florida Bay at the appointed spot. Over and out.”

Hubbard put down the hand receiver and slipped on his white hat with the orange-and-black feather. As Salty turned toward the cabin door, Joe hurried toward the front of the boat. If he went down the gangplank to the dock, he knew he would be left out in the open and easily spotted.

He heard the familiar sound of a wood duck.

Jerking his head to the right, Joe saw Chet quacking and pointing frantically to a cargo hatch near where he was standing.

Chet opened the hatch, and the two boys dropped down into the storage area below. Joe and Chet stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the “cargo” being stowed there.

Bound and gagged in the cargo hold were Deputy Miles and Reuben Tallwalker!

Deputy Miles tried to say something through her gag, but Joe pointed upward and signaled her to keep quiet.

They sat still, listening to the footsteps of someone pacing back and forth on the deck above.

Joe waited until the footsteps had moved to the other end of the boat, then he and Chet began to untie Reuben and Deputy Miles.

“Boy, am I glad to see you two,” the deputy said when her gag was off.

“How did you end up here?” Chet asked, as he began working on the ropes binding her feet.

“I'd forgotten to ask the dockmaster one important
question,” Deputy Miles explained. “All the boats in the harbor the night of the robbery were local. What I asked this afternoon was whether any of those local boats left port during the big squall.”

“The
Hammerhead,”
Joe filled in.

“Bingo,” the deputy replied. “I just came down to ask Salty Hubbard some routine questions about where he had gone in the middle of a squall. The next thing you know, he pulled a shotgun on me.”

“I'm beginning to think he's the most ruthless one of the whole gang,” Joe remarked.

“Gang?” Deputy Miles asked.

Reuben pulled his gag off with his free hand. “The alligator hunter, Platt. And the fisherman, Hubbard. When they caught me following them through the swamp, they tied me up, then Hubbard brought me here.”

“There's a third robber. The safecracker is Trent Furman,” Joe informed them.

“Who are they?” Reuben asked, still confused.

“They're the men who stole those rare gold coins from the vault in Miami,” Joe replied.

“You're sure?” Deputy Miles asked.

“Almost dead certain,” Joe said firmly.

“Let's get out of here and talk later,” Chet said eagerly.

It was too late. The boat motor hummed to life at that moment. The stowaways could feel the boat moving away from the dock.

“Great,” Chet grumbled.

“It's four against two,” Reuben pointed out. “Pretty good odds.”

•  •  •

“So Salty Hubbard loaned you his hat to hide your age?” Frank asked as he and Randy puttered along the shore of the bay toward Gator Swamp. “Our biggest riddle has the simplest answer.”

“Yep. I forgot my hat at home the first day,” Randy explained. “Salty said I looked like a young kid and an amateur without a hat, so he loaned me his for the night.”

“And gave you the money to enter the other competition,” Frank deduced.

“Right. But on the condition that I didn't tell anyone else about the gold coin I had found,” Randy added.

“Where did you find the coin?” Frank asked.

“It'll be hard to pinpoint at night,” Randy replied, “but I'll try to show you.”

Randy manned the outboard motor, while Frank sat in the bow, acting as the lookout to keep them from hitting any stumps or heavy saw grass that would clog the propeller.

Finally they reached the island where the Hardys and Chet had been stranded.

“That's it, right?” Frank said. “Twin Cypress Key.”

“No,” Randy replied. “It's an island nearby that used to look like that.”

“Used to?” Frank asked.

“You'll see what I mean,” Randy said. A few minutes later, the boat rounded a bend. Just ahead was an island that looked like Twin Cypress Key, but Frank noticed there was one major difference.

“There's only one cypress tree,” Frank said. Then he noticed a second cypress tree lying nearby, almost completely submerged under water. “The second tree was blown over in the squall!” Frank said.

“Right,” Randy said. “Before the big storm, I used to have trouble telling these two islands apart.”

“So the robbers have been looking in the wrong place this whole time,” Frank deduced. “No wonder they haven't recovered the gold. Where exactly did you find the first coin?” he asked Randy.

“I found it there,” Randy said, a slight quiver in his voice. “Right where that weird light is.”

Frank saw the strange light beneath the surface of the water. He also spotted an airboat anchored about fifty feet away from the light.

“I can almost guarantee it's Zack Platt,” Frank replied. “He must have figured out the riddle of the second cypress, too.”

Frank signaled for Randy to cut the engine, and the two boys coasted up alongside the airboat. Frank spotted a shortwave radio on board as well as a wet canvas sack.

“Hey, what happened to the light?” Randy asked. In the brief moment that their attention was on the airboat, the light had vanished.

A hideous creature lunged out of the water behind Randy, grabbed him in a bear hug, then dragged him overboard into the swamp.

“Randy!” Frank shouted, as he dove overboard to save him.

Under the black water, Frank began wrestling with the powerful creature. It had rubbery skin and large webbed feet. A man in a wet suit, Frank quickly realized.

Frank could not break the man's grip on Randy, but he was able to force him to the surface where he and Randy could at least catch a breath of air.

Tearing off the man's face mask, Frank confirmed what he had suspected. The man in the wet suit was Zack Platt.

For no apparent reason, Platt suddenly released Randy and swam away. Frank helped Randy back into the johnboat. Hanging off the side of the small
craft, Frank scanned the water, waiting for Platt to attack again. But he was nowhere in sight.

“There!” Randy shouted, pointing over the bow of the johnboat. “He's climbing onto his airboat!”

Frank looked over to see Platt hauling a canvas sack aboard. “He's found the coins!” Frank shouted.

Platt started up his airboat and took off across Gator Swamp in the direction of Florida Bay. Randy yanked the pull cord to start his outboard motor, and they slowly began their pursuit.

Frank realized this was useless, and he shouted instructions to Randy. “Head for Dusty's fishing camp! Quick!”

•  •  •

Back on the
Hammerhead
, Joe searched the cargo hold for some makeshift weapons to use against their adversaries.

The sea was rough, and the boat rocked violently, making it hard for Chet to untie the last knot binding Deputy Miles's ankles.

“Find anything helpful, Joe?” Reuben asked, rubbing his sore rope-burned wrists.

“Nothing we could use for a weapon,” Joe replied. “But look what I did find under these life jackets.” Joe held up two black cloth hoods.

“Hoods?” Reuben asked, puzzled.

“The safecrackers wore black hoods,” Deputy Miles recalled. “But how did they end up on this boat?”

“Somehow the robbers must have gotten word to Salty Hubbard that the police were chasing them,” Joe began.

Chet jumped in with the answer. “A shortwave radio!”

“That's my hunch, too,” Joe said. “Furman probably used the same shortwave that's now in his cabin at the fishing camp. They went with an alternate plan—to steal one of Angus Tallwalker's airboats and meet up in Florida Bay.”

“But if they got away with the loot, why hang around here?” Deputy Miles asked.

“Chet and I figured they lost the coins overboard trying to get through Gator Swamp during the big squall,” Joe explained.

“That's incredible!” Deputy Miles exclaimed. “If you boys want a job when you get out of high school, I hope you'll think of the Frog's Peninsula police force.”

“Right now, I would be more concerned with being alive to graduate,” Reuben interjected. “We need a plan to get out of here.”

“Could we swim for it?” Chet asked.

“I don't know,” Joe replied. “What's the shark situation in these waters?”

“There are a lot of them,” Deputy Miles replied.

“Sharks probably wouldn't feed in this kind of weather,” Reuben informed them.

“Well, that's good news,” Joe said.

“On the other hand, in this kind of weather,” Reuben added, “we would most likely all drown.”

“If I could get to the shortwave radio, I could call for help,” Joe said.

“Good idea,” Deputy Miles said. “That seems to be our only hope.”

“I'm going to let Reuben lead the way,” Joe said. “If he can climb up a tree and paint messages on our foreheads without waking us, he can probably get us to the main cabin without being detected.”

Reuben smoothly and silently opened the hatch a crack and looked out. “Hubbard is in the skipper's roost,” he said. “I don't see Furman.”

“Can we get by without being seen?” Joe asked.

Reuben didn't answer. He just sat watching, then suddenly said, “Now!”

Reuben jumped through the hatch and onto the deck in one swift movement. Joe did his best to keep up. They ducked behind the anchor just as Salty Hubbard turned his gaze back to the bow of the boat.