Chapter 3 The Secret of the Wooden Lady by Carolyn Keene
The Mysterious Clipper
Nancy telephoned her father at his office and repeated the mysterious message.
“His voice sounded so threatening, Dad. I’m afraid Captain Easterly may be in danger!”
“I believe we should take the next plane for Boston,” Mr. Drew answered soberly. “Can you be ready by two thirty, Nancy?”
“I’ll pack for both of us right away.”
She called Mrs. Gruen, and Nancy told her the plan.
The housekeeper shook her head. “Sounds dangerous to me. Stay close to your father, Nancy. Old ships with mysterious intruders! Somebody’s trying to get revenge for something, mark my words!”
“You may be right,” Nancy agreed. “But if you had your way, you’d keep me like a hothouse flower, under glass.” She laughed.
“That I would! A young girl like you traipsing after criminals—” Hannah hustled upstairs to see that Mr. Drew’s luggage was properly packed.
The lawyer came home early to lunch and greeted his daughter affectionately. “The police have high praise for your detective work, Nancy. They’ve been checking the movements of that gas station attendant.”
“Flip Fay?”
Mr. Drew nodded. “He had been boarding at the south end of town. But night before last he moved away in a hurry without leaving a forwarding address. Looks as though you’ve put your finger on the thief, Nancy!”
“But he’s gone, Dad.”
Her father smiled grimly. “Criminals, like bad money, have a way of turning up sooner or later.”
The Drews were still at the lunch table when the doorbell rang sharply. Mrs. Gruen hurried to answer it. Nancy listened, tense, then relaxed as she recognized the lively voices of her friends Bess Marvin and George Fayne.
Bess and George were cousins, but there any likeness ended. Bess, blond and pretty, had a penchant for second desserts and frilly dresses. She shared Nancy’s adventures out of deep loyalty to her but was constantly fearful of the dangers involved.
George, though a girl, was as boyish as her name, and her characteristics were completely unlike those of Bess. Her hair was black, her face handsomely pert. George wore simple clothes and craved adventure. Being a companion of Nancy Drew, she had plenty of that!
As the cousins entered the house, Carson Drew folded his napkin and pushed back his chair. “I’ll see you at the office at two thirty, Nancy.”
After a few hurried instructions he left the house and his daughter joined her friends in the living room.
“Hypers!” George exclaimed. “Why was I left out of all the excitement night before last?”
Bess shivered. “You mean you wish you’d been knocked out?” she asked, horrified.
George laughed. “Any news of the thief, Nancy?”
Nancy told the girls about Flip Fay. They remembered him and the short middle finger on his right hand. They hoped this slight deformity would make it easy for him to be identified and caught.
“And now, let’s talk about something pleasant,” Bess begged. “George, show Nancy your necklace.”
Bess’s cousin shook her dark head, smiling ruefully. “Mrs. Potter is so fond of me, she just won’t believe I don’t like jewelry.”
George took a box from her pocket. In it on a fluff of cotton lay a dainty gold chain with a brilliant red pendant.
“Of course it’s not a real ruby,” said Bess. “But it’s a wonderful imitation.”
“Why don’t you try it on, Bess?” suggested Nancy.
She undid the safety clasp and fastened the necklace around her friend’s plump, pretty neck. Bess admired the effect in a mirror.
“If it were a real ruby, it would be worth thousands of dollars,” she declared. “Rubies are among the most valuable jewels in existence.”
“More precious than diamonds?” her cousin asked.
Bess nodded. “I read a book once about gems. It said that rubies from Burma are the most valuable of all, especially the ones they call ‘pigeon’s blood.’ That’s the color, of course.”
“You ought to give Bess the necklace,” Nancy told George. “Anyone who knows so much about rubies deserves to have one of her own. Even though it’s an imitation.”
George laughed. “Exactly what I had in mind. Bess, the necklace is yours.”
“You may be sorry you gave it to me, but thanks.”
Nancy told her friends of the proposed trip to Boston. After a brief visit, George and Bess helped her carry the suitcases to the convertible.
“I’ll drive you and your dad to the airport,” George volunteered, “and bring your car back.”
It was not long before the girls were saying good-bye at the airfield. Mr. Drew and Nancy stepped into the waiting plane, and in a few hours were in Boston.
Upon their arrival, Nancy and her father left their luggage at a comfortable hotel near Copley Square and taxied at once to the wharf where the three-masted Bonny Scot was tied up.
Captain Easterly, they were relieved to learn, was safe and in excellent health. He was delighted to see them, and proceeded at once to show them his unusual “home,” with its main deck, and lower deck with quarters and mess for officers and crew.
Nancy marveled at the intricate passageways, the efficient galley, and the homelike atmosphere of the ship. The captain’s cabin was richly paneled in oak. Fastened on the walls were tiny carved figurines.
“I think your ship is fascinating,” Nancy told him, as they seated themselves under an awning on the top deck. “And it’s so large. I hadn’t any idea—”
The retired sea captain smiled proudly. “The Bonny Scot is not an unusually large clipper. But she’s sturdy enough to sail around the world!”
Mr. Drew told him about the mysterious telephone call they had received in River Heights. “Do you know of anyone who might have a reason for trying to dissuade me from coming here?”
Captain Easterly raised his shaggy eyebrows. “No,” the captain replied thoughtfully. “Mr. Farnsworth is the only person who knew that I had asked you to come. He’d have no reason to keep you away. In fact, he’d be the first one to welcome you. He’s just as eager as I am to have this matter of title cleared up.”
The elderly man leaned back in the comfortable cabin chair. “Mr. Farnsworth inherited the ship from an uncle who bought it without a clear title. He has no papers telling about the early owners. And Farnsworth’s not the man to spend money proving anything. So he’s about decided to drop the whole idea of selling me the ship. Wants me to keep on renting her.”
“And you don’t want to do that,” Mr. Drew put in.
The captain’s blue eyes blazed. “I’ve decided to buy her, and I mean to buy her! She’s got fine, clean lines and a strong heart. I want her for my own.”
“And I don’t blame you a bit!” cried Nancy. “I love the Bonny Scot already.”
Captain Easterly was obviously delighted to have such an enthusiastic audience. While the setting sun played warmly on the ship’s deck, he pointed out the ways in which his clipper differed from the fishing schooners that were moored near by.
“A clipper is square-rigged,” he said. “The way I figure, she’s got prettier lines than a schooner. I reckon you’d say she’s more streamlined. Notice her long prow.”
“Didn’t most clipper ships have figureheads on their prows?” Nancy asked.
The captain smiled. “That’s a good question. The Bonny Scot used to have a figurehead. You can see where it was fastened, right here under the bowsprit.”
“What became of it?”
The man shook his head. “That’s one of the mysteries about this ship. The figurehead must have been lost or destroyed a long time ago. I’d certainly like to have it, or at least a duplicate. But nobody seems to know what it was—a man, or a—a wooden lady.” He smiled.
Carson Drew turned to his daughter. “Now there’s a project for you, Nancy. Find out what the clipper’s figurehead looked like. After you’ve cleared up the mystery of the ghostly visitor, that is. Has he bothered you lately, Captain?”
“I’m away from the ship a good bit,” explained Captain Easterly. “A couple of times, on my way home at night, I’ve seen a light moving aboard her. Saw it last night, as a matter of fact. But so far neither I nor the dockhands have been able to catch sight of anyone.”
He looked quizzically at Nancy. “Young eyes are keener than old ones. If you care to spend some time on board, young lady, perhaps you’ll be able to see the intruder.”
Nancy’s pulses quickened. “May I really? I’ll be here tomorrow!”
“If I’m not here when you arrive, don’t be alarmed. I’ll likely be out buying provisions. Just look around till I get back. It won’t be later’n eleven.”
Carson Drew and his daughter left. On their way back to the hotel, Nancy talked enthusiastically about the clipper ship.
“I’m sure the Bonny Scot has had a wonderful history. If we only knew more about it. And Captain Easterly is a darling! He’s so hospitable.”
Carson Drew’s eyes were sober. “The man doesn’t seem to realize that there may be danger aboard. We must get to the bottom of this quickly, Nancy, but with caution.”
The next day, he left their hotel soon after breakfast to start his hunt for legal data relating to the ship’s title. He and his daughter were to meet aboard the Bonny Scot at eleven o’clock.
As Nancy hurried toward the water front, she kept turning the mystery over in her mind. Why did the unknown visitor return again and again? Was he hunting for money or jewelry? Were there valuable papers hidden aboard?
The Bonny Scot rocked rhythmically alongside the wharf, majestic and peaceful. Nancy nodded to a dockhand who seemed to be guarding the clipper, and went aboard. Captain Easterly was not at home.
Nancy began to explore various parts of the ship—the lower deck, the cabins, the galley. It was an eerie experience to be there alone in the stillness of the ancient ship.
“Whoever comes here wants something desperately. He’ll keep coming back until he finds it. If I could only think of some way to trap him!” she thought, returning to the main deck.
Seeing a line neatly coiled, she decided on a plan which she would tell the captain about when he came. Quickly picking it up, she carried it to the foot of the main companionway, where she began to arrange a loose coil just below the last step. Anyone descending the companionway would step into it, trip, and give himself away. Then Captain Easterly could catch him.
Suddenly Nancy stopped, the rope clutched tightly in her hand. Someone was not far away—someone moving very softly.