"Dixon, Franklin W - Hardy Boys 014 - The Hidden Harbor Mystery (original)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dixon Franklin W)

They hurried, with Frank in the lead. The moment he reached the corridor he stumbled heavily over an object lying on the floor.
"What's that?" he exclaimed. Then he cried out, "Why, it's a man!"
"It's Mr. Blackstone !" exclaimed Chet. "I saw him lying there. I think he's hurt. Someone must have knocked him down when all those passengers were trying to get out on deck."
He lit a match and knelt beside the inert form on the floor. The old gentleman was evidently badly injured. He was unconscious, and breathing with difficulty. Across his forehead was a smear of blood.
"We can't leave him here," Frank declared quickly. "We'll have to get him out on deck somehow."
The Hardy boys lifted up the injured man. He was not very heavy, but it was a dark and awkward journey to the end of the corridor and out onto the deck. Eventually they managed it, and stumbled into the open.
A scene of the wildest confusion met them there. Passengers were milling about in a state of panic. Members of the crew were vainly trying to restore order. Two of the lifeboats had jammed and could not be lowered. The ship was already settling down by the head and waves were sweeping over the side. Two or three of the voyagers, maddened with fear, had leaped over the side of the ship into the stormy waters below.
"We'll have to keep cool," said Frank. "Looks as if there isn't much chance of our getting into a boat on this side. We'd better look for life-belts in ease we have to swim."
"I'll stay here and watch Mr. Blackstone," volunteered Chet. "You two see if you can rustle the preservers."
Frank and Joe hurried off into the gloom, having Chet beside the unconscious form on the deck. The stout lad, thinking that he might be living the last hours of his life, began to reminisce about these chums of his.
Frank and Joe Hardy were the sons of Fenton Hardy, who had at one time been connected with the New York Police Department, but had resigned to go into private practice. Mr. Hardy moved to the city of Bayport, which was on the Atlantic coast, and there soon built up an enviable record as one of the cleverest private detectives on the continent.
Mr. Hardy had never intended that his sons should follow in his footsteps, but they had inherited so much of his ability that they took matters into their own hands. On their own initiative they had managed to solve a number of baffling mysteries. In the first volume of this series, "The Tower Treasure," the lads cleared up a puzzling case and recovered a rich treasure from its hiding place. In "The House on the Cliff," "The Secret of the Caves," "The Great Airport Mystery," "What Happened at Midnight" and other books are recounted additional adventures of the boys as they gained more experience in detective work and pitted themselves against dangerous crooks and lawbreakers in solving mysteries that were as difficult as they were exciting.
In "The Mark on the Door," which immediately precedes the present volume, the boys went far afield, becoming involved in an oil fraud scandal that took them to the deserts of Mexico. There they were captured by bandits, and endured many hardships and perils before bringing the case to a successful conclusion.
Just now it looked as if the promising careers of Frank and Joe were to be cut off. The boys had not gone far before they encountered a ship's officer with an armful of life-belts which he was passing around. They grabbed four of them and hurried back.
In the meantime, a great sheet of flame had suddenly belched from a companionway, precipitating further chaos. A rush of panic-stricken passengers toward the stern of the ship had caught up Chet and borne him struggling for some distance down the deck.
The stout lad fought his way back to the spot where Mr. Blackstone had been left lying, and in the lurid glare of the fire saw that the old gentleman was not alone. Bending over him was the same sinister figure of which Chet had caught a glimpse in the corridor shortly after the ship had crashed.
This time he could see the man's face clearly, and recognized him as Ruel Rand, the apparently intoxicated man whom the boys had noticed in the dining room that evening.
Rand straightened up as Chet approached. His face was dark with anger as he pointed to the stricken figure on the deck.
"Don't waste your strength saving that old scoundrel!" he shouted harshly.
"Aren't you the fellow who hit him?" Chet demanded.
"He deserved it !" snapped Rand contemptuously. Then, without another word, he brushed past Chet and ran down the deck. The boy scarcely had time to fathom the import of the man's words when Frank and Joe came hurrying up to him. Frank thrust a life-belt into Chet's hands.
"The ship is on fire! Everyone is ordered off!" he cried.
The vessel was settling swiftly. The deck was now dangerously near the water-line. One useless lifeboat dangled over the side.
"'We can't leave this old man here to die!" said Frank, kneeling down and doing his best to restore Mr. Blackstone to consciousness by shaking him and dashing cold water into his face. His efforts were successful in that the injured man opened his eyes, muttering inaudibly.
Between them, Frank and Joe managed to get a life-belt around the victim's waist. They lifted him to his feet, but the man was so weak that he could not stand up without assistance.
The forward part of the ship was now a mass of flames reaching higher and higher into the sky. The heat was becoming unbearable. The boys knew that it would be only a matter of minutes before the vessel would sink.
"We must chance it!" cried Frank. "A steward told me that we're only a few miles from shore. You fellows go ahead. I'll take care of Blackstone."
The Hardy boy's face was white. Alone, he might have a fair chance of reaching shore. But by adding the burden of this frail old man, who scarcely realized his peril as yet, the risks were doubled.
"We're not leaving you," declared Joe doggedly. "At least, I'm not. Chet can do as he likes."
"What do you take me for?" demanded the stout lad hotly. "I'm with you to the last ditch."
The Resolute gave a sickening lurch. From the distance there came a stentorian cry:
"Abandon ship!"
The boys rushed to the rail, hurrying the old man with them.
"Over you go, Chet!" yelled Frank. "We must get away from here before the boat sinks or we'll be dragged under."
Chet leaped to the sagging rail, stood poised for a moment, then plunged down into the black waters below.
"All right, Joe. I'll look after Mr. Black-stone."
Joe needed no second urging. As it was, they had waited long enough. The ship could not last but a few minutes more. Joe clambered over the rail and leaped into the stormy sea.
Mr. Blackstone, still half dazed, was a problem. He struggled as Frank lifted him across the rail, but there was no time for explanations. The boy simply tossed the old man from the deck, then sprang up, and dived into the angry waters below.

CHAPTER III

MISSING


WHEN Joe Hardy dived into the chilly, heaving sea he looked around immediately for Chet. In the light from the burning ship he soon distinguished his chum swimming steadily only a few yards away. He forged his way over to the stout lad until the two were side by side. They kept looking around in search of Frank, but there was no sign of the older Hardy boy.
"We can't hang around here very long," Chet called out. "We must get away from the ship before it goes under."
They swam steadily into the darkness and away from the ruddy aura of light, getting farther and farther from the boat. Far in the distance they could hear the cries of other swimmers, mingled with the chug of a life-boat's motor. Once away from that part of the sea which was illuminated by the flames, they were left in inky darkness.
"Frank! Frank I Where are you?" shouted Joe.
He thought he heard a faint reply, but in the rush of wind and waves he could not be sure. Then, from behind them, there came a muffled roar. Joe turned his head in time to see the whole ship break into a million pieces, as the boilers exploded and shattered the vessel from bow to stern. A great sheet of flame rose high in the air, followed by a stunning concussion. Then the Resolute plunged to her doom in a hissing cloud of steam. The ruddy glare vanished, and an impenetrable blackness settled over the ocean.
Joe and Chet were clear of the vessel's suction, having been carried shoreward by the huge waves. They called out to Frank, but there was no reply. Joe would have turned back, but Chet argued that such a course would be of no use.