Ghost Stories by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

Joe.
    Meanwhile, Frank had removed the pump from the hold locker. It was a small, hand-operated machine, a model so old he had never seen one like it except in the Bayport Museum. He brought out a length of hose and attached one end to the pump. Then he placed the opposite end over the rim of the barrel and moved the arm of the pump up and down.
    Water began to run through the hose and splash into the barrel, which was soon filled up. Frank switched to a second barrel, and it also brimmed with water by the time the floor was dry.
    â€œGood enough,” Langton admitted. “Now, make yourselves useful on top.”
    When the Hardys regained the deck, the night was still black but the storm was moving away. The rain had stopped, the wind was decreasing, and the waves were subsiding.
    â€œWe were lucky,” Captain Parker told the crew. “We only caught the edge of the storm. Now, take your gear below. We have to get the
Samoa Queen
shipshape again.”
    When the Hardys returned from stowing their oilskins, members of the crew were already repairing the damage caused by the storm. One sailor was sitting on a yardarm halfway up the mainmast, trying to tie one end of a loose sail into place.
    Captain Parker looked at Frank. “Frank Hardy, climb up the opposite end of the yardarm and help him. Lash the other end of the sail to the yardarm.”
    Frank clambered up the narrow ladder attached to the mast. Reaching the yardarm, he moved out onto it. He looked at the sailor across from him. It was Corkin!
    â€œDo your job right,” Corkin gibed at Frank. “Take your end of the sail and fasten it, and be quick!”
    Frank did not reply. His end of the sail was flapping in the wind. To get hold of it, he had to stand up on the yardarm and reach out with one hand. His fingers had barely closed around the cloth when Corkin tugged hard.
    Pulled off balance, Frank fell from the yardarm. Watching, Joe gasped as his brother began to plunge toward the deck!
    But Frank managed to grab the yardarm at the last moment. He hung there as the mast rolled withthe ship. Straining with his last ounce of strength, he got a foot over the yardarm and hoisted himself back up on it.
    â€œYou did that deliberately!” he accused Corkin.
    The sailor grinned evilly. “You do not know how to work on the yardarm,” he said. “That is all.”
    â€œI’ll show you!” Frank challenged him. “I’ll get the sail lashed before you do.”
    Both Hardys had shipped out as hands on a Coast Guard training ship, so Frank knew how to handle a sail. He seized the end whipping in the wind, ran a leather thong through its metal eye, curled the thong through a hook on the yardarm, and tied a sailor’s knot to hold it firmly in place.
    His chore finished, he edged over to the ladder. Corkin, looking discomfited, was still working on his end of the sail when Frank descended the ladder to the deck.
    â€œWell done, Frank Hardy,” said Langton, who had seen everything. “Corkin pulled the sail at the wrong time. But you have steady nerves and quick hands. I think you will make a whaler after all.”
    Grinning, Frank walked over to Joe and whispered, “Looks like your plan is working. At least we’ve got the first mate on our side. I hope he tells Captain Parker we’re too useful to be dropped into the ocean!”
    â€œI hope so, too,” Joe said in an undertone. “But we’re still in a terrible situation. We’re—”
    Captain Parker interrupted them by shouting, “Joe Hardy, come here!”
    Joe hurried over to him.
    â€œClimb up in the crow’s nest,” the captain directed. “We are off Tahiti, and I want to know how close to land we are. I do not fancy piling my ship on a reef. Look sharp. If the
Samoa Queen
hits the coral, she will shiver her timbers!”
    â€œYes, sir!” Joe replied. He hurried to the foot of the mainmast, took hold