  Sandy tried his hardest to look unknowing and innocent, and at the same time shocked and outraged. With the three guns aimed at him, it was not an easy job. “What’s the idea?” he exclaimed. “I’ve never seen anybody so ready with a gun as you are! We were only looking for our boat. You know it looks the same as yours. We thought for a while that this was it, but....” “But you found out, after some thorough snooping, that it wasn’t, didn’t you?” the man sneered. “Of course you did. It’s my boat, all right! And you’re trespassing on it! And this is my island too, and you were trespassing there yesterday! And if I were to shoot you, I would be perfectly within my rights as a landowner!” Sandy tried with difficulty to smile reassuringly. “Take it easy, mister,” he said. “Honestly, we were just looking for our boat. It dragged anchor in the storm last night, and when we saw yours we made a natural mistake and thought it was ours. Okay, it isn’t. We made a mistake, that’s all. Now if you’ll just let us apologize, we’ll get off your private property and go looking again.” But the man didn’t show the slightest intention of even moving his rifle from the ready, much less of letting the boys go. “Of course you’ll go looking again,” he said. “Looking for what you were looking for yesterday and today. Oh, no! I hardly think I can let you go!” Then he smiled his peculiar smile again. “What’s more,” he added, “even if I were to let you go, I would first have to ask you to return the money you stole—the money I see sticking out of your pocket!” Sandy’s heart sank. There was nothing he could think of to say now, and he could see no way out of the situation. He sank wearily to a seat in the cockpit and sighed. “I guess we can both stop play-acting about this trespassing thing,” he said. He pulled the telltale bill out of his pocket and threw it on the deck. “This is what you’ve been so upset about all along, isn’t it?” “You’re a very bright boy,” the man with the gun said. “Far too bright, I’m afraid. You have this whole thing figured out already, haven’t you?” “Most of it,” Sandy admitted. “At least the parts that count. You’re using this island to make counterfeit money, and you’re using this sailboat to take it somewhere. That’s about all I know, but it’s enough to get you in trouble, isn’t it, Mr.—?” “Jones is the name,” the man said. “Yes, I would say it was quite enough. The only mistake you’ve made is your conclusion. What you know is enough to get you in trouble—not me. In fact, I should hate to be in as much trouble as you two boys are in right now!” Jones put down his rifle for a moment and said, “Do you mind if I come on board my boat so that we can discuss your difficulties in more comfort?” Jones stepped out of the dinghy to the deck of the little sloop and settled himself comfortably in the stern seat while his two silent crewmen kept Sandy covered. When he was set, with his ever-present rifle held at ready across his knees, he was followed on board by the larger and meaner looking of the two sailors, who stationed himself beside Jones. “Oh, yes,” Jones repeated, “I should say that what you know is quite enough! And, since you already have too much information to ever let you leave here with, I’ll be happy to satisfy your immense curiosity by giving you a little more. But why not have your friend join us on deck?” When Jerry had come up from the cabin and was sitting beside Sandy, Jones cleared his throat, as if he were about to give a formal speech. “As far as you went in your thinking, you are most certainly right,” he said. “I use this boat to transport counterfeit money which I make on my island. I take it to a waiting freighter that meets me five miles off shore—well beyond the legal jurisdiction of the United States government, in international waters. The freighter takes my pretty counterfeit money and disposes of it in foreign markets, where I get a good price for it, and where not every bright and nosy boy is out to make a nuisance of himself.” Then, once again, Jones smiled his peculiar and unpleasant smile. “I find the foreign markets most useful for disposing of items which are too difficult to get rid of here. I expect that you will not be much harder to dispose of than this money, when you are beyond the limits of U.S. waters!” Sandy looked at Jerry in silence, desperately hoping his friend would come up with some flash of inspiration—some idea—which would help them to get out of this situation. But Jerry was no help. For that matter, Sandy reflected, he was not much help himself. But as long as he kept “Jones” talking, he’d get some more information and meanwhile, perhaps, he or Jerry might think of something. “There’s only one thing that has me puzzled in all this,” Sandy said therefore. “Why did you leave this boat full of money floating around outside of the cove?” Jones laughed. “There you have the full essence of our little comedy of errors,” he said. “Last night’s storm probably tore more than one hundred boats loose from their anchorages and moorings. Yours, I assure you, wasn’t the only one that drifted a good distance, and neither was mine!” “Yours?” Jerry gasped. “You mean that our boat did drift over this way? And that you—?” “I think you understand,” Jones replied. “But it wasn’t I. It was these stupid fools who work for me. They had loaded the money on board the boat last night before the storm. Then, when it blew up, we knew that it was impossible to sail to the freighter until the storm had passed. They failed to take the money out of the boat for the night, trusting to luck that nothing would go wrong. But something did go wrong! My boat broke loose and floated out around the point to where it is now. Your boat drifted up to the entrance of my cove. When they came out this morning, my assistants saw your boat, and did not see mine.” Jones laughed a short, sharp laugh. “They actually sailed your sloop five miles out to the freighter! Of course they discovered their mistake when they opened the money locker and found it full of canned food!” He looked at the sailors with disgust, then continued. “When they realized their error, they promptly sailed back here, but by that time you had found my boat and assumed it to be yours. When they told me their story, I guessed at once what had happened and went to correct the mistake before you found out about our little business. If you had only come a half hour later, you would have found your own boat and sailed it off in perfect safety. Unfortunately for you, you were just a little too soon.” “As long as you’re telling us the whole story,” Jerry said, “will you answer a question for me? I don’t understand why you bother with sailboats, when a power boat could do the job so much faster.” “That’s a fair question,” Jones said. “You are smart boys, aren’t you? Well, I pride myself on using my brains, too. I use this innocent-looking sloop for several reasons, one of which caused this whole ridiculous mix-up. For one thing, an individual member of a popular class of sailboat is very hard for the casual observer to identify. This we have both seen to be true. For another thing, everyone thinks of a sailboat as being merely a pleasure craft, and would never suspect it of anything illegal. It can go in and out of the harbor on a regular schedule and nobody will notice it or even realize it’s the same boat they are seeing. Third, all power boats have to be registered and licensed by the Coast Guard, while a sailboat is so anonymous that it doesn’t even have to have a name. Fourth, it gives me a reason to live on this island. To the people who stop to think of me, if they think of me at all, I am a retired gentleman whose principal hobby is sailing, and who lives on an island in order to get the most enjoyment out of the sport.” Again Jones smiled, and Sandy shivered. “It’s quite a neat setup, don’t you agree?” Jones said. “And, with the same neatness that is a part of my way of life, I am now going to put an end to this whole unpleasant interruption.” Suddenly dropping his lazy conversational manner, Jones sat upright and pointed his rifle at Sandy. Not moving his eyes from the boys, he spoke to the sailor who was still standing silent by his side. “We’ll have to take them out to the freighter now. There’s nothing else to do. I’ll decide what to do with them later on. You and Turk sail this boat and I’ll follow in theirs. Lock them below,” he added, nodding toward Sandy and Jerry. For the first time since they had seen him, the sailor spoke. “Okay,” he said. “We won’t mess it up this time.” Then, this being apparently the longest speech of which he was capable, he shut his mouth into a thin, hard line, and moved heavily to the boys. Using his pistol as a goad, he poked Sandy in the ribs and motioned him to go below. As Sandy started to take his first step down into the cabin, the sailor shoved him roughly and sent him sprawling onto the deck below. His head spinning, Sandy looked up to see the giant sailor towering above him. He was conscious of an odd noise, like a strangled, slow sobbing, far away. What was it? He had never heard such an ugly sound in his life.... Then, as his head cleared, he realized what it was that he was hearing. The sailor was laughing! Afterward, Sandy was unable to explain why the strange laughing sound, and the sight of the warped expression that only faintly resembled a smile, should have made him behave as he did. An uncontrollable fury filled him and he jumped to his feet with a headlong rush! Caught off guard by Sandy’s sudden attack, the sailor made a clumsy move to sidestep, but not before Sandy’s swing had caught him a terrific blow in the ribs. All of Sandy’s six feet of wiry muscle went into the blow, and the sailor reeled back, staggering. Sandy followed him into the cockpit to take advantage of the surprise attack, just in time to see Jones bring down the barrel of his rifle sharply on Jerry’s head. Sandy whirled to face Jones as Jerry dropped to the deck. He started forward, cocking his fist to lash out before Jones could raise his rifle again, but suddenly, with a sound like a bat striking a ball, a blinding light seemed to explode in his face. This first sensation was followed by a dull roaring sound and a spreading pool of inky blackness. He felt his knees buckle.... Somewhere, from afar, he heard Jones speaking in bored tones. “Bull,” he was saying, almost lazily, “you know how I dislike unnecessary violence in any form. If you hadn’t shoved the boy, this little scene would never—” And that was the last Sandy was to hear for quite a while. |
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