Chapter 4 The Secret of the Wooden Lady by Carolyn Keene
A Secret Visitor
Her heart pounding, Nancy slipped into the shadows and waited for the footsteps to come nearer.
She thought the intruder might make for the main companionway. In that case he would be trapped by the coiled rope and while he was trying to untangle himself, she would have a chance to see his face!
The girl held her breath. The footsteps ceased abruptly. Although she waited half a minute, there was no further sound.
Nancy’s better judgment told her not to allow herself to be trapped. She rushed up the companionway to the open deck. There was the sudden squeak of oarlocks. Peering over the rail, she was in time to see a man in a rowboat pulling steadily away from the far side of the Bonny Scot. Was he the one who had been aboard, or an accomplice?
He wore soiled dungarees and a faded blue shirt. His lined, weather-beaten face and his grizzled beard told Nancy that he was not young, but he rowed with deep, powerful strokes and his little boat moved quickly away from the clipper.
The man must have felt her eyes following him, for he suddenly looked up and caught sight of her. With an angry scowl he redoubled his efforts. He would soon be out of sight among the small craft in the water.
Nancy ran ashore and approached two men who were pushing off in a small motorboat.
“Please take me,” she begged. “I want to follow that old sailor in the rowboat. I think he’s been trespassing on the Bonny Scot.”
“Sorry, lady.” One of them shrugged.
“But he may be a criminal,” Nancy pleaded.
“If he’s a criminal, it’s none of our business,” the other man told her. “Go tell the police.” They started their motor and putt-putted out into the choppy water.
Nancy looked quickly about her. There was no one else going out. Disappointed, she walked back toward the clipper.
She glanced at her watch; almost eleven. Her father would be along in a few minutes. As she stood on the pier, a taxi drew up and her father stepped from it.
Carson Drew smiled as his daughter hurried to meet him. “Good girl! When I have an appointment with a lady, I like her to be prompt. Is the captain on board?”
“No,” Nancy said. “I suppose he’ll be along soon. Dad,” she whispered, “I think I’ve seen Captain Easterly’s mysterious visitor!”
“You work fast. Where is he?”
Nancy told him her suspicions. “But maybe it wasn’t the old man after all. The ghost may still be on board.”
Cautiously the two Drews made a hunt but found no one on the clipper.
“It must have been that man in the rowboat,” Nancy declared. “But how did he get off the ship? There’s no rope ladder hanging down, and he didn’t go off the gangplank.”
Mr. Drew looked thoughtful. “You’ve got a real mystery to solve, Nancy,” he said. “At least we know that the captain isn’t seeing ghosts.”
“What luck did you have, Dad?” Nancy asked. “Anything new on the ship’s title?”
The lawyer shook his head. “It’s going to be more difficult to trace the title than I had expected, I’m afraid. But I have a new lead.”
“What is it?” Nancy asked eagerly.
“I’m going over to New Bedford. There’s a very old shipbuilding firm there. They have records that may prove useful. At least I’ve been told that this company is a gold mine of information.”
“Then maybe you’ll find out something about the former owners of the Bonny Scot,” Nancy said hopefully. “Dad, you might even find a drawing of her figurehead for Captain Easterly.”
“Hope so,” Carson Drew smiled, as he took a steel tape measure from his pocket. “I’ll need measurements of the ship if I’m going to describe her to the gentlemen in New Bedford.”
Nancy helped him, running back and forth across the deck, calling out feet and inches, while he made notes of the ship’s dimensions. They had almost finished when Carson Drew clapped his hand to his coat pocket. “I almost forgot a telegram for you, Nancy. I picked it up at the hotel.”
Nancy ripped open the yellow envelope. “Why, Dad,” she said, “Bess and George are coming to Boston to stay with me! They’ll be here today—on the one-thirty plane. That’s wonderful. But what in the world—”
Suddenly Nancy caught the twinkle in her father’s eyes. “Dad, you sent for them!”
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 comfortable armchairs and began to read.
“Ancient shipbuilders,” the writer said, “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 up over the deck of an enemy ship. 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 smiled. “They were very superstitious,” she thought. “As if a wooden lady fastened to the bow of a sailing ship could save it in a hurricane!”
She 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 another cab, dark green with white lettering, 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 green taxi!” Nancy cried, leaning forward.
Her driver sped through the heavy traffic, skillfully keeping the other car in sight. As they 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 car darted into a side street. The traffic light turned red. Nancy fumed at the wait.
The instant the light was green again, her cab turned the corner to follow Flip Fay.