The Secret of the Wooden Lady Read online

  Mr. Drew nodded. “The minute I knew I had to go out of town, I phoned the Marvin home. I wouldn’t want to leave you alone while I’m in New Bedford.”

  “You think of everything, Dad.” Then Nancy smiled. “I wonder how Bess will like our ghost. I can’t wait to show the girls the Bonny Scot.”

  “Keep your eyes open, Nancy,” her father advised. “Learn all you can, but be careful.” He pocketed the tape measure and looked at his watch. “I’m afraid I can’t wait for the captain. I must hurry to make the New Bedford train. And promise me you won’t go down into the hold alone.”

  “Promise.”

  Expecting Captain Easterly any minute, Nancy wandered around for a while, in sight of the workers on the wharf. Still the captain did not come.

  “I think I’ll look over his books,” she told herself. “Maybe I can learn something about figureheads.”

  She went below to the captain’s cabin, and almost immediately discovered a worn volume dealing with early American sailing ships. She dropped into one of the armchairs and began to read.

  “Ancient shipbuilders,” the author stated, “looked upon the figurehead as a protector. The bow of the early fighting ship was very high and extended beyond the hull so that it could be run over the deck of another vessel. This allowed the sailors to jump off onto the decks of the enemy’s ships.

  “Even when the figurehead was no longer supposed to be a guardian in battle, the sailors thought of it as a great protection in storms. If the figurehead was removed from a vessel, often the men refused to sail.”

  Nancy wondered if Captain Easterly felt that way about his lost figurehead—as if the ship were without a protector. She put the book back on the shelf. “Anyway,” she told herself, “I’ll help the captain find out what the figurehead looked like.”

  The shining brass hands on the ship’s clock in the cabin were creeping toward one. Nancy jumped up, hurried ashore, and hailed a taxi.

  The driver had just pushed down the meter flag when Nancy noticed a green taxi pull away from the opposite curb. The green cab gathered speed. As it passed them, Nancy caught a fleeting glimpse of the occupant.

  He looked like Flip Fay!

  “Follow that taxi!” Nancy ordered, leaning forward.

  Her driver sped through the heavy traffic, skillfully keeping the other car in sight. As Nancy’s taxi drew close, the man in the back seat half turned around. He knew she was following him!

  He must have told his driver to shake Nancy’s cab, because suddenly the green one darted into a side street. The traffic light turned red. Nancy fumed at the wait.

  The instant the light was green again, Nancy’s taxi turned the corner to follow Flip Fay. But the green cab had disappeared.

  “Sorry, miss,” the driver said to Nancy. “I’m afraid we lost ’em.”

  “Never mind. Go on to the airport.”

  As she entered the waiting room, Bess and George were just coming through the gate, followed by a porter with suitcases.

  “Nancy!” cried Bess, hugging her friend. “We thought you’d be so busy with your mystery you wouldn’t come to meet us.”

  Nancy laughed. “That almost happened. Guess whom I just saw in a taxi?”

  “Not the ghost?” George inquired facetiously.

  “Flip Fay—at least I think it was.”

  “In Boston?” Bess shuddered. “Oh, dear, maybe he’ll knock us out again, Nancy!”

  Bess went on to say that the police felt sure Flip was the thief who had broken into her house. But he did not have a police record.

  “Maybe he’s running away to sea,” George remarked. “He’d be safe from the police. I’m dying to see the clipper,” she went on. “Have you found any clue to the captain’s mysterious visitor?”

  Nancy told the girls about the footsteps and her suspicions about the grizzle-bearded sailor.

  “Oh, Nancy,” Bess exclaimed, “weren’t you frightened?”

  George reminded her cousin that it took more than an old grizzle-faced stranger to frighten Nancy Drew.

  “Let’s have a snack at the hotel, and then I’ll take you ghost hunting,” Nancy suggested.

  When they reached the girls’ hotel, Nancy picked up the room telephone and put through a long-distance call to the police chief in River Heights. She told him she thought Flip Fay was in Boston. Chief McGinnis thanked her and said he would get in touch with the Boston police at once.

  “Shall I wear the ruby pendant George gave me?” Bess asked, trying the effect with a pink suit.

  “Wear a ten-carat diamond, only let’s get started,” George urged.

  Bess snapped on the necklace and they all went down to the hotel coffee shop for a light lunch. Twenty minutes later they got into a taxi. On the way to the dock, they did some further speculating about Flip Fay.

  “Do you suppose he’s the man who called your house and told you to stay away from the Bonny Scot?” Bess asked. “If he is the one, Nancy, you may be in danger.”

  Nancy was thoughtful. It was possible that Flip Fay had found out she had told the police he was the thief. If Fay were trying to leave the country from Boston, naturally he would not want her and Mr. Drew in the city.

  “I don’t see why Flip would be interested in the clipper,” George spoke up. “There’s no connection that we know of.”

  “We don’t know very much of anything yet,” Nancy reminded her. “As soon as you’ve seen the ship, I want to do a little investigating along the waterfront. Maybe I can find someone who knows Flip, or at least has seen him.”

  “What about old Grizzle Face?” George put in. “Are you going to try to find him?”

  Nancy said this was her intention, and she laughed at George’s nickname for the old sailor. The girls left the taxi and walked along the quay toward the clipper.

  “What do you think of her?” Nancy asked proudly. “Isn’t she a beauty?”

  The girls admired the trim black hull of the Bonny Scot and hurried aboard eagerly.

  Nancy, sure that the captain would be back by this time, took the girls to his cabin. He had not arrived. The cousins looked around, admiring the carved figurines on the walls. Bess especially liked the figurine of the Puritan maid.

  “I’ll bet she could tell lots of stories about this old ship if she could speak,” Bess mused.

  “Let’s go ashore and inquire about Grizzle Face,” Nancy suggested. “We can come back later to see Captain Easterly.”

  They strolled past interesting shops filled with ship’s supplies—lanterns, compasses, calking cord, hardtack, fishing nets, and lines. Nancy stopped to speak to several longshoremen, and the also inquired in some of the shops and shipping offices, but no one could give her any information about either Flip Fay or Grizzle Face.

  “My feet hurt,” Bess groaned. “Let’s sit down.”

  “There’s a museum,” Nancy said. “Let’s go in. Maybe we’ll see some figureheads; even the one from the Bonny Scot.”

  She led the way, and was delighted to find a long room lined with carved figures from old ships. The attendant, Donald Blake, was glad to tell the girls something about his treasures.

  “This young lady,” he explained, “sailed around the world ninety times, it’s said. That’s better than most sea captains do!”

  The face of the figurehead was calm and composed. “She’s ridden out storms and maybe even battles without a qualm!”

  “This man looks like a pirate,” George remarked, pointing to a fierce-looking, mustached figure, wearing a cocked hat and a sword.

  “Good guess,” said Mr. Blake. “He came from a Spanish pirate ship.”

  Nancy told Mr. Blake about the lost figurehead of Captain Easterly’s clipper. “You don’t happen to know anything about it?” she asked.

  “I don’t,” Mr. Blake answered. “But this book may give us a clue.”

  He picked up a heavy volume from a desk and thumbed through the index.

  “No Bonny Scot listed,” he said.
“Do you know when and where she was built?”

  “So far we haven’t found out,” Nancy replied.

  “Her figurehead may not even be in existence,” Mr. Blake warned. “Some of the early American figureheads rotted away because the woodcarvers used soft wood instead of hard elm or oak.

  “At times a crew would remove the whole figurehead if they were afraid she’d be battered to pieces in a roaring sea,” he continued. “Those old-timers thought a great deal of their wooden ladies. Well, I hope Captain Easterly finds his figurehead.”

  The girls thanked him and returned to the ship, hoping to see the captain. But the clipper was still deserted.

  “I wonder what can be keeping him.” Nancy frowned. “He said he’d be here this morning.”

  “Let’s go somewhere and have a nice cold soda while we’re waiting,” Bess begged.

  “I agree with you!” said George.

  “You two go,” Nancy decided. “I’ll wait here.” George did not think they ought to leave Nancy alone on the ship. “Too many strange things are going on,” she said, “and after all we came to Boston to protect you.”

  “I’ll be perfectly all right,” Nancy assured her.

  The girls left. Nancy looked about the captain’s cabin, once again admiring his orderly housekeeping: the gleaming brass hinges on the mahogany wardrobe, the bunk neatly made up and covered with a blue homespun spread. She noted a flashlight and a book on the little shelf over the bunk and saw that Captain Easterly, too, had been reading about figureheads. She reached for the book, then paused.

  Had she heard someone on board? Captain Easterly? ... No.... Nancy decided she had imagined the pad of footsteps. She took down the book and leafed through it.

  The volume was titled The Ten Greatest Pirates of History. Nancy stopped at the chapter about an Indian Ocean ruffian who maintained a spy ring in the leading ports of the Orient. His underlings, the story said, learned about rich shipments of cloth and precious stones and would send messages to the pirate chieftain. Then the brigands would lie in hiding in some secluded island cove, waiting for their prey.

  Nancy wondered whether the Bonny Scot ever had had such a misadventure.

  Again Nancy thought she heard a noise and strained her ears to listen. “The pirate story is stirring my imagination,” she thought.

  Suddenly Nancy froze, her spine prickling. There was someone behind her! Someone had come softly along the passageway and into the cabin.

  Nancy whirled, but before she could see the person, a coat was thrown over her head and powerful hands pushed her into a closet and slammed the door.

  Mark of a Thief

  NANCY tore the coat from her face. She was in : mall dark space, surrounded by clothing 01 .ooks and hangers. It must be the captain’s ward obe, she thought, as she tried to force the doo pen. It would not budge.

  She could hear the intruder moving quickl bout the cabin, upsetting things, careless nov of the noise he made. If only she could catch limpse of him!

  Nancy put her eye close to the keyhole, but th they was in the lock and she could see nothing bu glint of light. She began a careful search of th toor panels for some tiny crack through whic he might watch the man’s movements.

  At last she found one—a small hole halfway u he right panel where someone had driven a nai Nancy glued her eye to the tiny opening an waited with bated breath for the prowler to cross her line of vision. When he did, Nancy gave a little gasp.

  Grizzle Face!

  He had a chisel in his hand and began forcing the lock of one of the desk drawers. The fine wood splintered. Seizing the drawer, the man dumped its contents upon the floor. Then he did the same to the other two drawers. What was it he hoped to find?

  Whatever the sailor wanted, it was not in the drawer. He abandoned the heap of things he had dumped out and began to explore the polished oak wall next to it. His big hands passed quickly over the wood, pressing here and there. Was he looking for a secret spring which would open one of the panels?

  Then, as suddenly as he had come, Grizzle Face left. The cabin was silent. Nancy waited, wondering if he would return. Perhaps he had gone for an accomplice.

  “Or he’s searching in another part of the ship,” she said to herself.

  Once more Nancy tried to force the door. It was heavy, and her only reward was a bruised shoulder. The air was becoming bad, too.

  In a moment she sighed with relief. She had heard two familiar voices. Bess and George were coming down the companionway! She shouted and pounded on the wardrobe door.

  “Nancy!” Bess cried in a panic. “Where are you?”

  “I’m locked in the wardrobe,” Nancy answered, but George had already turned the key to let her out.

  “Hypers!” George breathed. “Who locked you in here?”

  “Grizzle Face, and look what he did to Captain Easterly’s desk!” Nancy said, pointing to the heap of assorted articles from the drawers. “He’s searching desperately for something—he even felt along the wall as if he hoped to find a secret panel.”

  Nancy said she was sure he had been frightened off the clipper by the approach of the cousins.

  “Then why didn’t we see him?” Bess countered, edging toward the door.

  Nancy reminded her of the mysterious exit of the old fellow that morning. He had probably left the same way.

  “And I’m going to find out where the place is,” Nancy determined.

  “Not now,” George suggested. “Let’s investigate this cabin. Do you suppose there is a secret panel?”

  “Oh, come on,” Bess pleaded. “We can return in the morning, and Captain Easterly will be here to protect us,” she urged.

  “Why don’t you go ashore and wait?” George suggested. “Nancy and I want to see if there’s anything to this secret-panel idea.”

  Bess hesitated. She did not want to stay on the clipper, yet she did not like the idea of being thought a poor sport. Suddenly she had an idea. She would ask the dock guard to come aboard. Without telling the others her plan, Bess left the cabin.

  George and Nancy continued their search. George had taken off one of her sandals and was tapping along the wall with it.

  Bess had been gone only a minute when there came a bloodcurdling scream. Nancy and George rushed into the passageway and around a corner. Bess was huddled against the wall, shivering with fright.

  “Oh, Nancy,” she whispered, “a head came right up through the floor!”

  “What?” George exclaimed in disbelief,

  “It did. I saw it.”

  “Where did you see it, Bess?” Nancy asked quietly.

  “Down there, in the middle of the passageway.” Bess pointed a shaking finger.

  Nancy and George went to the spot and bent over to examine the floor. Nancy discovered a small hatch with an iron ring. She and George lifted it, despite Bess’s fearful protests.

  “There’s a ladder,” Nancy said excitedly. “It’s an escape hatch leading from the hold. If we’re going down, we’d better have a flashlight.”

  “Nancy, you’re not going down there!” Bess screamed. “He’s there! I know he is!”

  “That’s what we want to find out,” Nancy told her firmly.

  She already was hurrying back to the captain’s cabin, where she grabbed the flashlight from the shelf over the bunk, and then joined the others.

  “Come on, George,” she said, starting down the narrow wooden steps.

  “What am I supposed to do?” Bess wailed.

  “Stand guard here,” George told her.

  Bess, not in the least comforted by this thought, decided to go with the others. Nancy, who was in the lead, stopped on the steps and swung her flashlight over the rough planking at the foot of the long, steep ladder. They could see some kegs and barrels, an oil drum, and a packing case.

  There were plenty of places, Nancy decided, where a man could hide. It was completely dark, and the flashlight in her hand illuminated only a small space. She descended slowly, car
eful not to proceed until she was sure no one was hiding underneath the ladder.

  The three girls reached the bottom of the steps. Staying close together, they began to work their way among the cases and barrels and coils of rope. After a while Nancy became convinced that there was no one else in the hold. George must have reached the same conclusion, for she said: “Nancy, he got away. I’m sure he’s not down here.”

  “I wish we could be sure,” Bess said weakly.

  The girls quickly investigated as much of the cluttered space as they could without climbing over the stacked-up articles, but they found no trace of the intruder.

  Then Nancy went forward alone. “Here’s the answer,” she called, swinging her light over another ladder which led up to the lower deck. “He escaped through this hatch.”

  The three girls hurried to the deck and went ashore. Nancy walked over to a warehouse guard lounging against a wall.

  “Did you see a man come off the clipper a few minutes ago?” she asked.

  “Sorry, girls.” He shook his head. “I haven’t seen a soul. Has the captain been telling you his ghost stories?”

  “Captain Easterly is a truthful man,” Nancy said loyally. “I saw the intruder myself—twice. He is about sixty, and has a grizzled beard.”

  The watchman gave Nancy an odd look from under his black eyebrows. “I never saw anybody of that description around here, young lady. You a friend of Captain Easterly?”

  Nancy said she was, and hurried away before he could ask any more questions. The girls found a taxi and went straight to the hotel.

  Bess threw herself on the bed and breathed an immense sigh of relief. “Am I glad to get away from that horrible old ship!” she said. “No more mystery today!”

  After dinner the three girls went to a movie. Nancy was surprised that her father had not returned. He was not back by morning, either. Bess had lost her fright of the day before. The clear, warm day seemed to give her courage. After breakfast the three girls returned to the harbor.

  They boarded the Bonny Scot, expecting to find Captain Easterly. Nancy shouted a “hello” into the interior. The only reply was the slight creaking of the vessel.