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Authors: Carolyn G. Keene

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BOOK: The Quest of the Missing Map
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Next, Nancy asked Ned to slip into the forecastle and hunt for a clue among Snorky’s belong ings. His possessions did not reveal anything suspicious. Ned ran his hand under the mattress of the sailor’s bunk.
“Here’s something!” he thought, holding up a small envelope.
It contained an odorless white powder. Ned felt certain that Snorky had used some of it to taint the ship’s food. He reported his find to Nancy.
“I have an idea!” she said. “Wait here for me.”
Nancy ran to the galley and grabbed a large salt shaker. She took a small plastic bag from a drawer, then hurried back.
“Ned, substitute this salt for the powder!” she said. “Put the white powder in this plastic bag. We’ll keep it for evidence.”
Taking her friends into her confidence, Nancy organized a watch over the galley. On the pretext of helping the overburdened cook, the girls even assisted in serving the meals. At lunch Ned com plained his food tasted very salty.
“Snorky is sly,” Nancy observed to George as they discussed the situation. “We’ll have to tighten our watch. If we don’t, I’m afraid something dreadful may happen before we reach Little Palm.”
An unexpected change in the weather temporarily drove all thought of Snorky from everyone’s mind. The barometer fell steadily and within a few hours waves were breaking over the decks.
Although weakened by his illness, Captain Stryver resumed command of the ship, relieving the weary Bill Tomlin. As the day wore on, the gale became worse so that everyone was driven below. Even the cook went to his bunk.
Nancy, however, grew restless. Deciding that Snorky should be watched, she went to look for him. The sailor could not be found, even after Ned and Bill had joined the search.
“Say, maybe he was washed overboard!” Bill said uneasily. “I’ll ask the captain if he has seen him.”
Nancy did not agree. Without telling anyone where she was going, the young detective went below to the galley. Before she reached it, the door opened and the missing sailor came out, carrying a box in his arms. He turned in the opposite direction without seeing Nancy.
“Now what was he doing in there?” she thought. “He must have had more poison powder for the food, and he’s carrying away the good stuff for himself!”
Thoroughly alarmed, she started up the ladder, intending to warn her friends not to eat anything served. Nancy was midway up the rungs when the yacht gave a lurch.
She was thrown off balance. Unable to steady herself, Nancy toppled backwards, falling to the deck. Her head struck hard and everything went black before her eyes. When Nancy opened them, she was lying on a couch in Captain Stryver’s cabin. Her anxious friends were grouped about her.
“You okay?” Ned asked, pressing a cup of water to her lips.
Nancy sat up, trying to recall what had happened. Her eyes roved from one face to another.
“What is it, Nancy?” Ned asked, sensing that something was wrong.
“Don’t eat,” she whispered. “Whatever you do, don’t touch anything coming from the galley!”
Nancy told how she had seen Snorky stealing away from the ship’s galley.
“He’s trying to keep us from reaching Little Palm Island,” she ended her story wearily. “Will you help me to my cabin?”
While Bess and George made Nancy comfortable in her bunk, Bill Tomlin and Ned sought the captain. The three of them searched the ship. They found Snorky hiding in the hold, presumably to avoid Stryver. The captain demanded a reason for his conduct.
“I wasn’t within a mile of the galley,” the man whined. “I was hunting in the hold for some extra clothes of mine.”
Suspicious, Captain Stryver ordered another sailor to send the cook up with a sample of every dish of food which was to be served at dinner. Commanded to eat, Snorky sullenly obeyed, refusing only to taste a bowl of split pea soup.
“What do you know about this?” Stryver asked the cook.
“Nothing, sir. Snorky must have sneaked into the galley when I was in the dining room.”
“Throw the soup overboard,” the captain instructed the cook. “As for Snorky, we’ll lock him up until we reach port.”
A thorough search was made of his cabin. No evidence against him was found other than more of the sickening white powder. Nancy had hoped a clue involving him with Spike would turn up. None had, but she did not swerve from her original theory that Snorky was working with people interested in the treasure.
To everyone’s relief, the remainder of the trip was uneventful. Late one afternoon the Primrose came within sight of Little Palm Island. Through binoculars it looked like a tiny crescent-shaped spot of green, its sandy shores lined solidly with gently waving palms.
The ship nosed her way cautiously ahead and at length dropped anchor a safe distance from the pounding surf. Captain Stryver, Bill Tomlin, and Ned decided to row ashore to make a preliminary investigation.
Anxiously those aboard the Primrose watched the little craft row away. A few minutes later a crewman came up hurriedly to the group to report that Snorky had escaped from the cabin where he had been locked up.
“He’s nowhere on the ship!” the seaman added. “He must have jumped overboard and swum to shore.”
“How frightful!” exclaimed Mrs. Chatham. “Now none of us will be safe!”
Nancy’s uneasiness for the men in the rowboat increased. Captain Stryver’s party might be attacked!
CHAPTER XIX
Impostor
To the relief of everyone aboard the
Primrose,
the small boat returned from the island in less than an hour.
“What’s the report?” Nancy asked eagerly as Captain Stryver climbed aboard the
Primrose,
followed by Ned and Bill.
“This side of the island seems to be deserted,” the captain replied. “We did find considerable evidence of digging, though.”
“Oh dear!” Nancy exclaimed. “That means someone has reached the spot ahead of us! And Snorky has escaped!”
“What!” Stryver shouted, and went off to get more details.
Nancy said to Ned, “Snorky has probably joined Spike and maybe others on the island.”
A few minutes later Captain Stryver came topside and said all the men except Mr. Smith would go back to the island in search of the fugitive.
“When it’s safe for you girls to land, I’ll let you know.”
Mrs. Chatham, Mrs. Smith, Nancy, and the other girls remained on deck. Anxiously they watched the men go ashore, then vanish behind a fringe of palms.
Mrs. Chatham walked the deck nervously. “Oh, I wish they’d return!” she said over and over.
“Listen!” Nancy cried suddenly. “I thought I heard someone shout!”
“So did II” agreed Ellen, who was standing beside her.
A moment later the watchers saw several men on the beach. Seizing the binoculars, Nancy adjusted them to her eyes.
“They’ve caught Snorky!” she exclaimed. “Another man, too. I think he’s Spike Doty.”
“Who’s that in the white suit?” Mrs. Chatham asked. She had observed him join the group on the beach.
Nancy replied, “His big hat is pulled too low for me to get a good look at him.”
As she watched intently Nancy could tell that the newcomer was arguing with Captain Stryver. He seemed to be ordering the
Primrose
party away from the island. This was substantiated by Ned and a sailor when they rowed back to the yacht a few minutes later.
“That Heyborn fellow in white claims he owns the island,” Ned explained. “He won’t permit us to land or to dig.”
“But there’s been a lot of digging on the island already,” Nancy said in quick protest.
“He claims he knew nothing about it. We’ve caught Snorky, and that other guy in the blue jeans may be the one who robbed the Smith home,” Ned declared. “I came back to get Nancy and Ellen for a positive identification.”
The two girls set off for the island with Ned. Heyborn had disappeared before their arrival. One glance satisfied them that Snorky’s companion was indeed Spike Doty.
Captain Stryver said, “Mr. Heyborn, the owner of the island, volunteered to look after the prisoners, but I declined the offer. I don’t entirely trust him.”
He lowered his voice when he saw the man in the white suit returning. Darkness was coming on, and although Nancy tried her best, she could not obtain a good view of the bearded man’s face buried under a low-brimmed hat.
“Please let us search,” Ellen pleaded. “It means so much to Mrs. Chatham and my family.”
“Sorry, I can’t allow that,” he said irritably.
Ned and Ellen would have pressed the matter further but Nancy gave them a warning glance.
“I can see your point of view,” she said to the owner. “We’ll leave at once.”
Her friends stared, aghast. A few minutes later, on their way to the yacht, they demanded an explanation.
“I wanted to throw him off the track,” Nancy told them. “I don’t believe he’s the owner of Little Palm Island. He must be a pal of Snorky and Spike.”
Ellen was thoroughly alarmed. “We must do something to stop him then. But what?”
“I have a little plan,” Nancy said.
She proposed that a few of them wait until after dark, then steal back to the island and investigate.
“Where does Mr. Heyborn live?” she asked Ned. “He must have some kind of a house in the woods.”
“It’s a cabin,” Ned replied. “We saw it from a distance while we were chasing Spike and Snorky among the trees.”
“Then we should begin there,” Nancy stated. “Maybe Bill will go with us.”
Ellen, who was somewhat timid, did not care to be included in the adventure. Bill Tomlin, however, was enthusiastic.
“Nothing would suit me better than to round up that gang,” he said.
In a short while the trio quietly launched a boat. With muffled oars they rowed to the beach as thick clouds scudded overhead, obscuring the moon.
“No sign of anyone around,” Ned whispered as the boat grated on the beach. “All the same, we’d better be on our guard.”
After camouflaging their craft with palm leaves, the three moved stealthily through the tropical woods. Presently they came to a worn path which led them to a one-story building made of palmetto logs.
“That’s the place,” Ned told his companions. “Now what?”
“Somehow we must look inside,” Nancy whispered to the boys. “I suspect that the real owner of the island may have been taken prisoner by the man who claims to be Heyborn. And I’ll bet that the impostor is here, too.”
Moving to the rear of the cabin, flashlights off, the three paused beside a window. Nancy pressed her face against the screen.
“Let me have your flashlight, Ned,” she whispered. “I think a woman is lying on the bed, bound and gagged.”
“Maybe it’s Mrs. Heyborn,” he replied.
Nancy flashed the beam, drawing in her breath at what she saw. A sleeping woman lay on the bed, her ankles tied together and chained to one of the posts!
Horrified, Nancy raised the screen and called to her softly. At first the figure did not stir. When the woman did lift her head from the pillow, she shivered in fear.
“Don’t be afraid!” Nancy called in a soothing voice. “We’re here to help you.”
“Please! Please!” the woman pleaded pitifully. “My husband and son are prisoners, too!”
Ned hoisted Nancy through the window so that she could talk with less fear of discovery. He and Bill waited outside, keeping watch.
“Are you Mrs. Heyborn?” Nancy asked, and introduced herself.
“Yes,” the woman murmured. “Two men landed here a few days ago in a boat. They accepted our hospitality, then made us prisoners. My husband and son are chained in another room. Oh, I hope they’re all right!”
“What became of the boat? We didn’t see it when we landed.”
“Gone,” Mrs. Heyborn revealed. “I heard one of the men—the others call him Spike—say it would return in a day or two with a lot more digging equipment.”
After examining the woman’s bonds, Nancy realized she could not hope to release her without the key to the padlock.
“I’ll be back,” she said in a comforting tone. “Then I’ll get this lock off.”
Tiptoeing to the window, she climbed out and rejoined Bill and Ned. She told them everything she had learned.
“We must capture the man who is impersonating Mr. Heyborn and get the key to the padlock from him right away. And, boys, the real Mr. Heyborn and his son are prisoners somewhere.”
The sleeping woman was chained to a bedpost
At the rear of the building was a screened porch which the young people had barely noticed. As they walked around the house they saw that a cot had been set up in the enclosure. A man was stretched out on it.
“That must be the impostor!” Nancy whispered to her companions. “If we’re quiet, we can take him without a struggle!”
Making no sound, the three opened the door of the porch and slipped inside. Ned took a rope from his pocket and bound the man’s feet. The startled prisoner, awakening, struggled to a sitting position. A beard lay on a nearby chair with a big straw hat and white coat.
BOOK: The Quest of the Missing Map
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