The Hidden Harbor Mystery by Franklin W. Dixon Read Free Book Online

to America, when she was wrecked on the reef,” he announced.
    â€œDull stuff, probably,” commented Joe. With Chet’s help, he began spreading the old newspapers in the sun to dry, weighting them with bricks from the oven.
    Frank, meanwhile, leafed through the little package of documents. They were mostly shipping invoices and insurance papers for the ship’s cargo. Dull stuff, as Joe had said. But then, tucked among them, a note on plain white paper caught his attention. Suddenly he leaped to his feet.
    â€œJoe! Chet! Listen to this! It’s a memo from the Sally Ann‘ s captain to himself!”
    When the other two had dashed over, astonished, Frank read the memo:
    â€œ ‘Last voyage—my friend, Clement Blackstone, embarked with his entire family for England, from Hidden Harbor. Before sailing, Clement informed me, as his boyhood friend, that the family fortune and papers were hidden nearby, and gave me directions for finding them, in case he should never return. Memorized directions in order to avoid committing them to writing.’ ”
    Joe gave a whistle. “Maybe you didn’t find a treasure, Chet, but you’ve given us a clue to one. But where’s Hidden Harbor? There’s nothing hidden about Larchmont’s inlet.”
    â€œHidden Harbor,” Frank mused. “Wherever it is, the Blackstone fortune is nearby.”
    Joe sighed. “If we don’t get off this island, we’ll never find it,” he reminded the others. “Let’s spread out the rest of these papers to dry, and then get the chair stuffing out in the sun, too.”
    They waited hopefully throughout the day for their distress signal to be noticed, but no one appeared. Finally, when evening came, the three boys carried the stuffing, the papers, and pieces of the wooden chair-frame to the highest point on the rocks. A starlit sky spread overhead, but a hard wind and a heavy sea had set in. The high-dashing spray was caught by the wind and whipped over the little island like gusts of fine rain. While Frank and Chet acted as shields, Joe lighted one of their few remaining matches. A feeble flame began to lick at the crumpled papers, only to be extinguished by the driving spray. Another match was used, with the same result.
    â€œShall we use our last two matches?” Joe asked.
    â€œTry one more,” Frank answered.
    This time a bluish-yellow finger of flame climbed, spread out, caught at the chair stuffing, and began to lick at the wood.
    At that moment a shout, followed by the sudden roar of a motor, brought the boys to their feet.
    â€œIt came from the jetty!” cried Joe.
    Racing around the lighthouse, they saw a dark figure leap into a motorboat, which then churned out from the island.
    Frank and Joe ran at top speed to the end of the stone dock, plunged into the rough water, and struck out after the fleeing boat.
    For a while the heavy waves slowed the boat more than the swimmers. But just as Joe came within grabbing distance, it suddenly spurted ahead and roared off into the darkness.
    â€œWhere was that guy hiding?” Frank asked himself dismally.
    Thoroughly soaked and chattering with cold, the Hardys returned to their fire, only to find darkness.
    â€œI did my best to keep it alive,” Chet apologized.
    The heavy spray had quenched the flames, and the high wind had scattered the remaining paper all over the wet rocks.

CHAPTER VII
    Amusement Park Trouble
    MISERABLY, the three boys plodded back to the shelter of the lighthouse. Hunger and the lack of dry clothes combined to make a fitful night’s sleep. Next day, as the marooned trio stepped into the morning sunlight, a faint droning sound alerted them to a silvery object passing high overhead.
    â€œA seaplane!” Joe cried wildly. “Hey! Help!”
    Stripping off their shirts, Frank and Joe waved madly, while Chet bellowed at the top of his lungs. The plane continued toward the