The Broken Anchor

  “DeFoe?” Carson’s eyes sought Nancy’s.

  She concentrated, then shook her head. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard the name,” she said. “Is it someone from one of your cases, Dad?” “Not that I recall,” he answered. “I’m sorry, Sheriff Boyd. It just doesn’t mean a thing to me. Is there anything else?”

  Sheriff Boyd shook his head. “Not so far. However, I’d appreciate it if you’d look around the boat now that we’ve finished fingerprinting. I’ll go check with my deputy and see if he’s gotten any further information.”

  Nancy waited until the sheriff was off the boat, then turned to her father. “What do you think, Dad?” she asked.

  “Let’s see if the sheriff missed anything,” he suggested. “Where do you want to start?”

  “In here, I guess.” Nancy went to the enclosed shelves to look at the small collection of dishes stored there.

  “Mr. Drew.” Sheriff Boyd’s call summoned her father out on deck while Nancy continued to open drawers and look into cubbyholes around the cabin. She was just about to go down into the lower cabins when her father returned.

  “Did he have any more information?” she asked, noting her father’s strange expression.

  “His deputy just radioed the news that Jeff and Lena DeFoe are owners of a resort in the Bahamas. They don’t have the name of it yet, but it’s located on Anchor Island.”

  Nancy gasped. “But that’s where Sweet Springs Resort is located. Didn’t I tell you that?”

  He shook his head.

  “Oh, Dad, Bess and George are on their way there now,” Nancy groaned. “What do you suppose is going on?”

  3. An Ancient Clue

  For several minutes neither of them spoke, then Nancy shook off the sudden chill her words had brought. “Should we tell Sheriff Boyd?” she asked. “About the contest and the island, I mean.”

  “Of course,” her father answered, “but I’m afraid it will have to wait. He got a radio call while we were talking and had to leave. He said if we found anything we should stop by his office on our way back to Miami. We can tell him then, I suppose.”

  “But what about Bess and George?” Nancy asked, terribly worried about her two friends.

  “There’s nothing we can do till they reach the resort,” her father answered. “They’ve already landed in Nassau, and they should be on their way to the resort by now. Let’s finish searching the boat. If there is a connection between it and that mysterious contest you didn’t enter . . He didn’t have to finish.

  Nancy took a deep breath and nodded. “You think the DeFoes sent that intriguing prize to me?” she asked.

  “If they did compile that file of clippings, they would know that you’d be likely to accept such an invitation,” her father reminded her.

  “But they could have simply called. Why do you suppose they want me to go to Anchor Island?”

  Her father could only shrug. “Perhaps we’ll get some real answers when Bess and George call tonight,” he suggested.

  “And till then we’ll just go ahead with our search of the boat,” Nancy said.

  “Did you finish in here?” her father asked.

  She nodded.

  "Well, I’ll go up and look around the bridge while you tackle the cabins below,” he told her.

  Nancy stepped through the doorway and down the few stairs to the lower level of the boat. Three doors opened off the small landing. One led into a little bathroom, the other two gave access to small, neat cabins that appeared to be exactly alike.

  Nancy stepped into the cabin on her right first. Twin bunks were freshly made up. There were a few clothes hanging in the tidy closet, but the pockets of both shirts and slacks were disappointingly empty. The built-in dressing table yielded little more in the way of clues.

  A hairbrush with a few light hairs in it, an old pink lipstick, several battered knit tops, and a stained old fisherman-knit sweater were all she could find. Even taking out each drawer to inspect the bottom and the space it had filled yielded nothing. Just to be on the safe side, Nancy stripped, then remade each bunk.

  Her inspection of the other cabin proved un- enlightening, for it held nothing personal. Nancy searched it as carefully as she had the first cabin but with even less success.

  Frustrated, she searched the small bath, finding further traces of the DeFoes, but nothing else. She hesitated at the foot of the steps, sure that there was nowhere else to search, yet feeling that she shouldn’t give up so easily.

  “What happened to you folks?” she asked the warm silence of the cabin. “Why did you send me an invitation you knew I couldn’t resist, then come all the way to Florida to disappear?” The boat creaked and moved slightly on the lazy swelling of the inlet. Nancy crossed to one of the bunks and started to bend down to reach across it to run her fingers along the shadowy area where the bunk rested against the wall, seeking a break or crevice. As she did so, the boat shifted again and she stumbled slightly, bumping the side of her face against the wall.

  The silence was broken by a click and a rolling sound. Nancy lifted her hand to her ear, realizing at once that she’d lost her earring. She looked down just in time to see her earring disappear into a dark comer.

  “Oh, dear” she muttered, dropping to her knees to pursue it. “Come back here.”

  Her fingers grated on wood without finding the familiar shape of her earring. Frowning, she probed the area and then gasped as her finger slipped into a small hole. It went in easily, not encountering anything below. When she tried to pull it back out, the whole section of wood in llie comer caught on her knuckle and lifted out.

  “Well, well, well,” Nancy murmured, looking at the square of wood in her hand.

  The area it opened was not large, but her earring lay on top of an old leather pouch. Nancy

  lifted them both out carefully, then peered into the small recess to make sure there was nothing else hidden there. Convinced that it was empty, she replaced the wooden tile and put her earring on before opening the pouch.

  “Find something?” Her father’s voice made her start and she nearly dropped the heavy

  — medallion that slid out of the pouch when she released the thong that held it shut.

  I think so,” Nancy answered, explaining quickly what had happened to her earring.

  Her father whistled as he held up the medallion. “This looks like pure gold, Nancy,” he said.

  Nancy got to her feet and followed him to the small porthole which gave the cabin daylight. The three-inch disk fit into her palm, but its surface was so dirty and scarred she couldn’t make out the design in the metal.

  “It looks very old, Dad,” she observed, rubbing at the surface.

  Carson Drew nodded. “The workmanship on the chain is definitely ancient, and the disk itself is beautifully shaped. Too bad it’s so battered.”

  “It looks like some kind of hook or something,” Nancy said. Perhaps someone familiar with antique jewelry could tell us what it’s supposed to be.”

  Her father’s eyes lit up. “I know just the man,” he said. “Do you re member Avery Yates?” Nancy thought for a moment. “The jeweler who specializes in restoring antique jewelry?” “That’s the one. He retired to this area a couple of years ago. I think I have his phone number in my things at the hotel.”

  “Could we take it to him tonight?” Nancy asked, intrigued by the unusual necklace. “It might be a clue.”

  Mr. Drew’s smile faded. “I’m not sure Sheriff Boyd will be happy about that,” he observed.

  Nancy’s eyes met her father’s. “Sheriff Boyd didn’t find it,” she reminded him.

  Her father looked disapproving for a moment, then shrugged. “We’ll tell him as soon as Avery finishes with it,” he decided. “After all, if we give it to the sheriff now, he probably wouldn’t have it restored, so we wouldn’t be able to find out what it means.”

  Nancy hugged him. “Let’s hurry back to the hotel,” she suggested. “I want to see if Bess and George
have called yet.”

  “We should tell the sheriff about the resort," her father murmured.

  “We’ll probably know a great deal more after we talk to the girls,” Nancy said.

  He nodded. “You didn’t find anything else?”

  Nancy shook her head. “How about you?” The sheriff was right about the boat being tripped of identification. The log is gone, the various identification names and numbers have been sanded off or removed. The best I can tell you is that someone, probably Mr. DeFoe, smokes a pipe.”

  Nancy sighed, then took the medallion and studied it once again. “This must mean something,” she told him. “That’s why someone had to hide it down there.”

  “Ready to go?”

  “I guess we might as well,” Nancy agreed. “There really isn’t any place else to search, is there?”

  ‘I’ll lock up,” her father said, “though I can’t imagine many people come out this way.” Nancy went out on the deck and looked around, realizing again just how deserted this area was. The water lapped lazily at the dock pilings, and a breeze stirred the palms and the other trees that shaded the inlet.

  “Where could they have gone?” she asked her father, not really expecting an answer.

  “Someone must have met them,” her father answered, following her line of thinking. “That was one of the things the sheriff kept saying. That inlet is really a strange place to abandon a

  boat because you can’t just walk away from it.” The drive back to the hotel seemed endless to Nancy as she alternately stared at the medallion and worried about her friends. They hurried to the desk to ask for messages.

  “Nothing Mr. Drew, Miss Drew,” the desk clerk informed them.

  “We’ll call the resort,” her father told her. “Let’s go up to our rooms.”

  Placing the call to Anchor Island proved to be a long, frustrating process, though the hotel switchboard operator was both competent and experienced. It was almost an hour before the phone rang. Nancy hurried to answer it.

  “Miss Drew?” Her heart dropped as she recognized the operator’s voice once again.

  “Did you reach them, Operator?” she asked. “I’m afraid not. The connection has gone through twice, but there is simply no answer at the resort. Would you like me to keep trying?” Nancy relayed the information to her father, then handed him the receiver, listening as he cancelled the call, saying they would place it again later. His face was serious when he replaced the receiver.

  “Where are Bess and George?” she asked him.

  He shook his head. “I wish I knew.”

  4. Galleon Gold

  “What are we going to do?” Nancy asked.

  “Well, there really isn’t anything we can do to reach the island at the moment,” her father said. “So why don’t I call Avery and see if we can take the medallion over to him?”

  “But—” Nancy began.

  “Honey, it is possible that your holiday was to be a private one. I mean, if we’re correct in assuming that the same people sent the tickets who collected that file of clippings, they probably wanted you and me to be their only guests.” Nancy frowned. “I can understand that, but why aren’t they answering their phone?” “Perhaps they’ve let their staff go for the summer and are shorthanded. Maybe they’re

  still en route from Nassau to the island.”

  “You think that Bess and George are safe?” “Of course. Now, why don’t you relax for a few minutes? You must be tired after having left home so early this morning.”

  Nancy went obediently to lie on the bed in her room, but she could hear her father’s voice through the connecting door. He had no trouble reaching Mr. Yates, who obviously welcomed the call.

  In a moment Mr. Drew came to the door. “Avery has invited us to his place for dinner,” he said.

  Nancy sat up, nibbling at her lip. “I’d love to see him, but what about Bess and George?” she asked. “They’re supposed to call.”

  “Then, I’ll invite him to the hotel. They have a very nice rooftop dining room here, and we can leave word with the switchboard so we can be called there or here.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” Nancy lay back again.

  Nancy took her time, had a bubble bath, then donned a deep coral dress that set off her fair skin and pretty eyes perfectly. She brushed her hair into curving radiance, using a couple of golden combs to secure it, then smiled at her reflection in the mirror.

  Her father came into her room just as she finished. “Avery is downstairs,” he said. “I’ve asked him to come up and see the medallion before we go to the restaurant.”

  “If only it could tell us something,” Nancy said as a knock on the door announced Mr. Yates’s arrival.

  Mr. Yates looked just as she’d remembered him: a tall, slim man scarcely stooped by his seventy-five years, his blue eyes as bright and curious as ever. “Miss Nancy, you get prettier every time I see you,” he told her as he took her hand. “Quite a young lady now, but still solving mysteries, I hear.”

  Nancy colored slightly. “I just hope we’ll be able to solve this latest one,” she said. Then she and her father told the elderly gentleman everything that had happened since the phone call about the abandoned boat and the arrival of the mysterious contest prize.

  Mr. Yates listened attentively, shaking his head at the news that they’d been unable to reach anyone on Anchor Island.

  “This is what Nancy found under the floorboards of the cabin,” Mr. Drew finished, opening the worn leather pouch and letting the medallion drop into Mr. Yates’s gnarled hands.

  “Oh, my,” he breathed, touching the glowing metal with gentle fingers. He lifted it, studying both the medallion and the hand-wrought chain from which it was suspended. “This is quite a find, Miss Nancy, quite a find, indeed.”

  “Do you think it’s pure gold?” Nancy asked. “Very likely,” he replied. “But more than that, I think you have here a genuine piece of history.” He moved closer to the lamp, studying the medallion’s scarred face. “I’ll have to do some work to bring out whatever has been engraved on this disk, but just seeing it, I’d say it’s Spanish treasure,” Mr. Yates said. “I’ve examined a number of pieces dating from the days when the galleons plied these waters, and this compares quite favorably with them.”

  “Spanish gold,” Carson Drew murmured. “Pirate treasure?” Nancy asked.

  Mr. Yates nodded to both suggestions. “Either or both,” he answered.

  “But what does it mean?” Nancy asked. “Can it help us find out what happened to George and Bess and the DeFoes?”

  Mr. Yates just shook his head.

  “I think we should go up to dinner,” Carson Drew suggested. “I’m starving.”

  Dinner was excellent and the night view of the ocean and the resort-spangled beach stretched out below them was spectacular, but Nancy found it hard to enjoy any of it. She kept watching the time, her mind on Bess and George. Where could they be? Why hadn’t they called to say they had arrived safely? She was almost glad when her father suggested that they return to their room for further visiting.

  Mr. Yates stayed only a little while longer, getting to his feet with a sigh. “I will be delighted to restore your find,” he told them. “Shall I call you when it’s ready?”

  Carson nodded. “I’ll let you know if we’re leaving Miami,” he said. “We’ll have to get together before that.”

  “Next time you must come to my home,” Mr. Yates told them.

  “We’d be honored,” Mr. Drew assured him. “And we’ll be grateful if you can tell us anything about the medallion, anything at all.” Once the door was closed behind Mr. Yates, Mr. Drew went immediately to the phone and called the hotel operator. Nancy listened to the conversation with a sinking heart. Her father turned to her after he replaced the receiver. “Nothing at all?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “I told her to keep trying all night if necessary.”

  “Maybe we should call the airport in Nassau,” Nancy suggested.
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  “If no one had met them, the girls would have called us from there,” her father noted.

  “But where can they be?” Nancy almost wailed. “If anything has happened to them, it will be all my fault.”

  “Now, now,” her father soothed, “let’s just wait till morning. Perhaps they’ll call then and have some perfectly logical explanation.” Nancy nodded her agreement, but she found it very hard to believe. She went to bed with a heavy heart, desperately worried about her missing friends. Fortunately, she was so exhausted by her day that she slept at once, deeply and without dreams.

  The ringing of the phone woke her and she stumbled out of bed, pulling on her robe as she hurried into her father’s room. He was just hanging up the phone as she turned on the light.

  Mr. Drew shook his head. “That was the sheriff,” he answered grimly. “He’s on his way over here and he sounded furious.”

  5. Vanished

  “But what—?” Nancy began.

  “He didn’t say,” her father answered. “But I think we’d better get dressed in a hurry. He’s on his way over.”

  They were just finishing a hasty breakfast ordered from room service when a pounding on the door announced that they had a visitor. Carson Drew admitted Sheriff Boyd.

  Anger blazed from his dark eyes. He glared first at Carson Drew, then turned to Nancy. “Where is it?” he demanded.

  Nancy winced with guilt, her mind filled with images of the medallion.

  “Just what is it you’re looking for, Sheriff Boyd?” Mr. Drew asked, his voice calm.

  “The boat, of course!” Sheriff Boyd snapped. “It’s gone. I drove out there this morning and there’s not a sign of it.”

  “Sheriff Boyd, I can assure you that the boat was still tied up at the dock when Nancy and I left,” Mr. Drew began. “I locked it up as you requested.”

  The dark eyes probed him, then turned back to Nancy. “Is that your story, too?” he asked.