Authors: Carolyn Keene

Tags: #Art Thieves, #Yacht Clubs, #Women Detectives, #Detective and Mystery Stories, #Girls & Women, #Adventures and Adventures, #Adventure and Adventurers, #Juvenile Fiction, #Mothers and Sons, #Mysteries & Detective Stories, #Fiction, #Art Objects - Reproduction, #Fraud, #Mystery Fiction, #Adventure Stories, #Art Objects, #Swindlers and Swindling, #Drew; Nancy (Fictitious Character), #Statues, #Mystery and Detective Stories

The Whispering Statue (4 page)

BOOK: The Whispering Statue

3.67Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Read Book Download Book

ads

“I don’t think the attendant would let us,” Nancy replied. “At least not without checking us out. I wonder where he is.”

“Oh, come on. Let’s sail,” George urged impatiently.

“There’s a sign by that boat,” Nancy said, pointing to a flat-hulled racer. “Maybe it will clue us in on the rules.”

The girls read the sign carefully. Guests of the yacht club were allowed to take out the Sailfish, dinghies, and rowboats at any time. Permission to use the Boston Whaler and the larger sailboats had to be obtained from the attendant. But he was temporarily off duty.

“Let’s each take a Sailfish and have a race,” George cried, running over to a pretty light-blue boat, with a yellow sail wrapped neatly around the mast. The mast and rudder had been placed carefully next to the hull.

“That sounds like fun,” Nancy said enthusiastically. “Which boat would you like, Bess?”

Nancy was eying a dark-green one with a red stripe around it. Its white sail, mast, and rudder were placed exactly like the others.

“Someone keeps things shipshape around here,” she thought admiringly. “These boats look like painted wooden soldiers all lined up.”

“I’ll stick to the rowboat, thanks,” Bess said. “I’d rather be under my own steam. If I took a sailboat, the wind might blow me somewhere I didn’t want to go,” she added, glancing at a breakwater of rocks not far away.

“Don’t worry, Bess,” said Nancy. “Why don’t you come with me? We can always tack back when you say the word. It’s a light offshore wind,” she added, looking up at the pennant on the boathouse. “And I promise to head up into the wind, whenever you’re scared, although I don’t relish getting in irons. Oh well, if we do, you can jump out and push!” Nancy laughed.

“Thanks,” Bess answered.

“Why don’t you all go together in the Wee Scot?” said a deep voice.

The girls wheeled around in surprise. The speaker was a smiling attractive young man.

“Who’s he?” asked Bess.

“Who’s who?” the young man queried.

“Wee Scot,” Bess answered indignantly. The others chuckled.

“Wee Scot is the name of a class of racing sailboats,” the stranger explained. Pointing to the harbor, he said, “That white, fifteen-foot, sloop-rigged boat moored out there is one.”

Nancy turned to the young man. “We’d love to try her, but the sign says that we can use only the Sailfish unless we get permission from the attendant.”

“That’s me—Dick Milton, the attendant, and you have my permission. From what I overheard, sounds as if you know what you’re doing. Come on into the boathouse and get her bag of sails. If you like the feel of her you might enter the race here Saturday afternoon.”

Soon the girls were in the dinghy rowing out to the Wee Scot named
Top Job.
Nancy had carefully covered her wig with a large bathing cap and firmly strapped it under her chin.

“What a bore this is,” she complained, tugging at the tight strap. “I hate bathing caps!”

“It’s better than catching your wig in the rigging or losing it overboard,” George remarked. “Then we would be in a spot. I don’t think Bess and I could do much mystery solving without you.”

Nancy laughed. “Oh sure you could.”

“I hope the name of this boat is prophetic,” Bess said.

Once aboard
Top Job,
George and Nancy had the mainsail and jib up in record time. Bess dutifully coiled the sheets.

“The wind is perfect.” George sighed happily, taking the tiller.

Top Job
sailed smoothly, gathering speed as the sails filled. The boat was running before the wind. As the craft approached the mouth of the harbor, George noticed a post she assumed was a racing marker. She decided to have a look at it, thinking she might take part in Saturday’s races.

“Ready about, hard alee!” she called.

Nancy uncleated the jib sheet. Then she and Bess scrambled to the other side of the boat. Nancy trimmed the jib sheet, cleating it on the starboard side. George handed her the tiller, saying, “Try her. She handles beautifully.”

Bess did not appear happy. “Ugh, see all those messed-up ropes—I mean sheets,” she groaned, straightening them out again.

“The wind’s freshening,” Nancy remarked as the boat, picking up speed, began to heel over. “This is fun.”

“It’s getting so dark,” Bess said apprehensively, looking at the sky.

“That’s strange,” thought Nancy. “It is dark and feels as if the wind’s changing.” Glancing at the pennant on top of the mast, she saw in dismay that the wind had shifted abruptly. Suddenly she yelled:

“Jibing over!”

The boom swung across with a bang. George ducked, but the spar hit Bess, throwing her into the water.

“Bess! Bess! Are you all right?” George screamed.

Nancy tried to steady the boat and tack away from the marker which she saw was made of concrete. In a moment the boat scraped hard against it and began to take in water.

“Here we go!” she cried as
Top Job
slowly capsized.

CHAPTER V

An Amazing Find

NANCY, Bess, and George clawed their way to the surface. Bess had a red mark on her cheek, but said she was all right. To the girls’ amazement the wind had died down.

“That was a freak blow,” said Nancy.

“What did we hit?” Bess asked. Her question was answered as the girls looked at the concrete marker on which a warning was painted in red: Danger. Sunken
schooner.

Quickly they righted the sailboat. But it was shipping water fast from the gouge in her side.

“It’ll sink!” Bess cried.

Nancy did not comment. Instead she looked under the deck, hoping to find extra rope so they could lash the sailboat to the post. To her relief she discovered a coil of rope, together with a heavy sweater.

“Here, girls,” she called, tossing the rope to them. “Try to tie
Top Job
to the post.”

Bess reached up to catch the rope but her chilled fingers missed it.

“Oh!” she cried out.

“Never mind,” said Nancy.

She had succeeded in cramming the sweater into the hole. Now she dived to locate the rope. Nancy could not see it and had to surface.

“I’ll go down,” George offered. But she too met with failure.

Bess took a turn but came up empty-handed. The three girls went down again and again, but rose to the surface, panting, and had to rest for a few moments before submerging again.

Once, when they came up, Bess remarked, “I think it’s hopeless. There’s a lot of mud down there.” Soon George also gave up but Nancy was persistent.

“One more dive,” she said. “Then I’ll quit too.”

This time her groping hands found the rope on the deck of the schooner. Her lungs almost bursting, she made her way to the top of the water.

As she grabbed the marker, Bess cried out, “You found it!”

She and George took the rope and secured the mast of the sailboat to the marker.

Bess was concerned about Nancy, who was shivering. “Are you all right?” she inquired.

“I’ll be okay in a few minutes,” she replied. “The old lungs took a beating.”

George declared that hereafter when they went sailing they should carry skin-diving equipment with them. The next second she cried out, “Oh, here comes somebody in a Boston Whaler!”

To the girls’ delight the newcomer was Dick. “Gee, I’m sorry,” he said. “When that sudden blow came up, I figured you might have some trouble.”

“You’re a real lifesaver, Dick!” Bess exclaimed gratefully.

The girls pulled themselves into the Whaler while Dick anchored the sailboat. When he learned of Nancy’s determination to save the craft, he shook his head in disbelief.

“Boy, you’re something!” he said. “I don’t think I’d have had the courage to try it.”

Nancy smiled. “Do me a big favor, Dick. Promise you won’t tell a single soul about this.”

“Okay, Debbie. I’ll have to report what happened to the sailboat, of course, but I’ll keep your brave deed a secret.”

“Thanks,” Nancy murmured.

Dick added, “Don’t feel bad about this. Even the best sailors have accidents. Frankly I don’t think the repair job on this Wee Scot will be expensive.”

Nancy insisted she would pay for any damage and Dick replied, “We’ll see about that.”

When the girls reached the yacht club, Nancy quickly changed into a pink sports dress, and then went to Mr. Ayer’s office. She told him about the accident to the sailboat and insisted upon reimbursing the yacht club for necessary repairs.

The manager smiled. “I see that your adventures in Waterford have already started.”

“I hope the others will have a happier ending,” Nancy replied. “Mr. Ayer, I’ve heard about the whispering statue that was stolen from here. Where did it stand?”

He said that it had been in the center of the narrow lawn at the front of the club facing the bay.

“Were there any clues to the thieves?” the young detective queried.

“None whatever. I have the feeling that the police gave up in despair trying to find the thieves and the statue.”

Mr. Ayer said he himself had never seen the marble figure, since he had not come to the club until a year ago when it was ready to open.

“I’m told the statue was very beautiful. Do you know the story about it?”

Nancy repeated what Mrs. Merriam had said: that the statue looked like the wife of the original owner of the property, that she never overcame her homesickness for her native land Italy, and that she had died while in her twenties.

“Mr. Ayer, did you ever hear any theories on why the statue whispered?”

“No, I never have.” He chuckled. “Do you intend to try finding the marble lady?”

“Yes, although I have another job to do for my father. But I’d like to see the exact spot where the statue stood. Would you mind showing it to me?”

“Not at all.”

He led the way to the front lawn and pointed to an oversized flower urn containing petunias. “We covered the spot with this,” he said, “but I suppose it’s a poor substitute for a beautiful marble piece. The whispering statue would be a great addition to the yacht club. I wish you luck in trying to find it.”

As the manager excused himself to go back to his office, Bess and George joined Nancy. She told them what she had just learned and suggested that the girls make a thorough search of the area.

The three friends separated and began a minute hunt for any telltale clues to the thief or thieves. Presently Bess came across part of a torn letter under a stone, but it proved to be only an advertisement. Neither Nancy nor George found any clues. Finally the searchers met in the flower garden.

“I wonder who owns that land on the other side of the hedge,” Nancy remarked. “Let’s take a look over there.”

The girls walked to the far side of the garden and pushed their way through the tightly grown hedge. Just beyond stood a small building which they surmised had been used as a tool house. They headed for it. Finding the door unlocked, Nancy pulled it open. The hinges squeaked loudly.

“Ugh, cobwebs!” said Bess.

The place was cluttered with broken tools and garden equipment, some of it piled on top of other broken pieces.

“Surely,” Bess remarked, “you don’t expect to find a clue here.”

Nancy did not reply. Her keen eyes had detected something long and white propped in one corner and almost hidden by the debris. Pushing objects aside, Nancy made her way toward the corner.

“Girls, this looks like a statue!” she exclaimed.

Bess and George stepped forward and uncovered a dusty marble figure. Hardly daring to believe they had found the missing statue, they carefully turned the sculpture around. It was the life-size figure of a young woman.

“It looks like you, Nancy!” Bess cried out.

Nancy pulled off her wig and the cousins stared first at her, then at the statue. “It certainly does!” Bess added.

“This must be the whispering statue!” George added. “Only it isn’t whispering.”

“Maybe,” said Bess, “if we clean off all this dust, it will whisper!”

After staring at the marble piece, Nancy put her wig back on and said, “We are just guessing this is the stolen statue. The only person we know who can identify it is Mrs. Merriam. Let’s go tell Mr. Ayer about our discovery and then phone Mrs. Merriam to come over and look at the statue.”

On the way to the yacht club the girls excitedly discussed their amazing find. “So it wasn’t really stolen, after all,” Bess remarked. “But why would anybody hide the statue in that shed? And why didn’t the police find it?”

George suggested that possibly the thieves had not been able to sell the piece and had returned it rather than be caught with stolen property.

“If so,” said Nancy, “that must have happened after the police searched the area. The thieves probably were nearly caught when returning the statue and hid it in the shed.”

Mr. Ayer was astounded at the girls’ news and immediately went with them to the shed. The manager said he would telephone Mrs. Merriam and ask her to come over. Fortunately he found her at home with her husband and the woman promised to drive to the club at once. Nancy suggested that she, Bess, and George go out on the beach during the woman’s visit, since they were not supposed to be seen in her company.

“I understand,” the manager said. “After she eaves, I’ll come to the beach and tell you what she had to say.”