Nancy’s heart leapt into her throat as she plummeted downward. She closed her eyes tightly but couldn’t block out the image of the deadly hook below. Desperately she threw her arm out, trying to grasp something, anything. To her amazement, her hand caught on some more rigging, and she clenched her fist tightly around it. Her slender body jerked to a halt, then swung gently in the air.
When she dared to open her eyes again, Nancy saw that she was just a few feet above the ominous, iron blubber hook. Below her, her classmates all had looks of horror frozen on their faces.
Nancy tried to control the nervous tremor in her voice as she assured everyone she was okay. Taking a deep breath, she swung her feet around until they caught on the web of rigging. Then she climbed down to the deck, trying not to look at the iron hook a few feet to her left.
When Nancy reached the deck, the entire ship exploded in a chorus of anxious voices: “Are you okay?” “That was a close one!” “What happened?”
At least the other kids don’t seem mad at me anymore, Nancy thought. They all looked worried. Even Deke had lost his smug expression.
“Nice save, Nancy,” Cap said, appearing at Nancy’s elbow. “What happened up there?”
Good question, Nancy thought. “I grabbed on to some rigging,” she began, thinking out loud. “I think it ripped from my weight.”
Cap craned his head to look up at Gayle, Kristina, and the three guys who were still twenty feet above them. “As you can see, it’s only too easy to slip,” he called. “If Miss Drew had been out on the water, there’s a good chance she would have pitched over the side and been lost at sea.”
Nancy gave Cap a sharp look. There seemed to be a glint of satisfaction in his deep blue eyes, though she wasn’t sure why. Were his words meant to be a threat? Now that she thought about it, the way the rigging had suddenly given way didn’t seem right to her. A boat’s rigging wasn’t meant to just snap like that, unless it had rotted or...
Nancy didn’t like the thought that had just occurred to her. With a determined glance up at the others in her group, she said, “I’d like to give it another shot.” Before Cap could stop her, she started climbing back up the rigging.
Her real purpose wasn’t to show Cap that she wasn’t afraid. Nancy wanted to get another look at the rigging that had given way.
The other students in her group, who were still on the rigging, made encouraging comments as she worked her way around them. Within moments she was back in the same spot where she had been standing before her fall. She took a close look at the rigging—then drew her breath in sharply.
The rope ends weren’t rotted. They weren’t frayed, either, the way they would have been if they had snapped from the stress of her weight. They had been cleanly sliced through. Someone had purposely cut the rigging!
“Nancy, are you all right?”
Nancy looked over to see Gayle staring at her expectantly. She and the others were obviously waiting for her to resume unfurling the sail.
“Uh, yeah, sure.” Taking a deep breath, Nancy started talking the others through the procedure, but her mind wasn’t on her work. Questions kept running through her head. Who could have sabotaged the rope? Cap had inspected the work just before her group had gone up. Had he cut the rigging to warn her off the case? How could he know her real purpose at the seaport?
Then again, Deke had been the previous group’s leader, and he had stood in the same spot. Nancy still didn’t know if he was up to no good at the seaport, or if his cocky, mischievous attitude was all an act. But if Deke was the saboteur, it was possible that the reason he kept taunting her was to deflect everyone else’s suspicions away from him.
Nancy shuddered as she glanced down at the blubber hook again. Whoever had cut the rigging wasn’t just sending her a warning. It looked as though the person wanted her out of the way for good. From now on she was going to watch her back.
• • •
“Nancy, you could have been seriously injured in that fall,” Patricia Newcomb said worriedly. As soon as the sail furling demonstration ended, Nancy had gone to the director’s office to fill her in on what had happened. “I never would have asked your father for your help if I had known—”
“I’m all right. And luckily, no one else was hurt, either,” Nancy assured her quickly. “I just keep thinking that if someone went to the trouble of trying to hurt me, I must be getting closer to figuring out who’s sabotaging the seaport.”
Mrs. Newcomb didn’t look convinced. Before she could object further, Nancy said, “I’m beginning to wonder if Cap Gregory and Vincent Silvio might be working together. We already know that Cap is upset about having to retire from captaining sailboats on the high seas. And Vincent Silvio’s motive might have something to do with”—Nancy took a deep breath before continuing—“a competition between you and him over sailboat designs.”
The seaport director’s eyes narrowed as Nancy related the story of Silvio’s outburst about the design he thought Mrs. Newcomb had stolen.
“Not that old story again,” the seaport director said with a sigh. “Vincent and I have been designing small sailboats for as long as I can remember. Once, about six years ago, we both happened to design small racers that were strikingly similar. For some reason, Vincent claimed that I stole that design from him.”
Mrs. Newcomb shook her head ruefully. “Now every time I design a new sailboat, he makes the same accusation—that the design was his and I stole it. Nancy, I give you my word that all of my designs are Patricia Newcomb originals. If Vincent says otherwise, it’s just because he’s too jealous to admit that I’m the better designer.”
That backed up what the owner of the wooden boat shop had told Nancy and George. From the slightly smug look on Mrs. Newcomb’s face, Nancy could tell that she enjoyed being the winner in the competition with Vincent Silvio. “Maybe he resents your success enough to do damage to the seaport,” Nancy suggested.
The seaport director shook her head. “Vincent may get hot under the collar when my designs do well, but I’m sure he doesn’t really mean me any harm,” she said firmly.
“I’m not so sure of that,” Nancy said. She told Mrs. Newcomb about finding the scrap of fabric from the captain’s writing desk behind Silvio’s locker, and about seeing him with the ship’s model.
“A ship’s model?” Mrs. Newcomb repeated, raising an eyebrow. “As our master shipbuilder, Vincent is allowed to borrow from the collection of models. Sometimes he uses the models as reference for restoring old ships. If he followed official policy, I’ll be able to track it down.”
Nancy waited while the seaport director turned to the computer terminal on her desk and typed a series of commands.
“Vincent followed procedure, all right,” Mrs. Newcomb announced a few moments later. “The ship’s model he borrowed is from the Arcadia Queen.”
Nancy frowned. “The display Cap snuck into last night was from the Arcadia Queen, too, right?” she asked.
Mrs. Newcomb nodded grimly. “Maybe you’re right about the two of them working together. But what would they want with the Arcadia Queen?”
“It does seem strange,” Nancy agreed. “I mean, Cap could have wrecked it last night, if that was what he wanted to do. Did you have a chance to ask him what he was doing there?”
“Not yet,” Mrs. Newcomb replied. “I’ve been completely swamped with last-minute preparations for an outdoor exhibit of figureheads that’s going on display. I’m afraid I haven’t had a spare minute to track down Cap. Considering the way he and Vincent seem to feel about me right now, I doubt I’d get a straight answer out of either of them, anyway, even if I did try to talk to them.
“What about the students in the program?” Mrs. Newcomb asked, changing the subject. “Have any of them been acting suspicious?”
When Nancy told her about how Deke Ryan had been acting, Mrs. Newcomb frowned. “If Deke is the culprit, we’re going to be in a very sticky situation,” the seaport director said. “The Ryans are a very influential New England seafaring family. Generations of Deke’s ancestors owned and captained sailing ships around the world. His family has donated thousands of dollars to the seaport, as well as many valuable antiques.”
“I guess they wouldn’t appreciate hearing about their son getting in trouble here when they’ve given so much to the seaport,” Nancy said.
“Right,” Mrs. Newcomb said, grimacing. “I had a serious talk with Deke after Cap kicked him out of sailing class yesterday. He promised to be more respectful in the future, but of course he didn’t give any clue that he could be behind the sabotage to the seaport.”
“George and I will do our best to find out who the culprit is— whether it’s Deke or someone else,” Nancy promised. “Tomorrow I might not be able to get much investigating done, though. I’m going to be out all day on the Seafarer.”
Mrs. Newcomb nodded. “Cap is going to be along on that trip. I believe Vincent is going, too. He said something about seeing how the Seafarer sails after a repair job he just finished on one of the masts.”
“Great,” Nancy said, brightening. “Then I’ll be able to keep an eye on both of them and Deke.”
The director gave Nancy a concerned look. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I will,” Nancy assured the director. “With all of our suspects in one place, I ought to be able to find out something useful! I’ll let you know.”
• • •
“Mmm, this salty air smells fantastic!” Claire said, inhaling deeply.
“I’ll say,” Nancy agreed. She felt an exhilarated rush as the Seafarer rose up over a swell, then dipped down the other side. Wind filled the long ship’s three large sails, occasionally blowing sea spray into her face. The coastline was just a distant blur to the west.
Nancy couldn’t help wishing that George could be with her—she knew her friend would love it. All of the students seemed excited to be out on the ocean. They were even acting a little friendlier to Nancy, but she had the feeling that they still didn’t completely trust her.
The students had been divided into three groups—one to act as the sailing crew, one to perform marine experiments, and a third to learn navigational techniques. Nancy, Claire, Tom Chin, and a black-haired boy named Julio had already studied navigational techniques. Now they were in charge of handling the sails. Nancy and Claire manned the wheel while Tom and Julio made sure the sails were set at just the right angle. Cap had supervised them closely at first. Now that they’d gotten the hang of sailing such a large ship, he just watched from a distance.
Nancy’s eyes drifted toward the middle section of the boat, where Mr. Vilander, their marine science teacher, was preparing to drop a two-foot-long glass and metal instrument over the side to collect a sample from the ocean bottom. Deke was among the group, Nancy noticed. For once he didn’t seem to be acting up— he simply watched along with the others while Mr. Vilander demonstrated how to use the instrument.
So far Nancy had been too busy to find time to question Cap or Vincent Silvio. Then again, both of them had seemed completely caught up in their work, too. When Vincent Silvio wasn’t busy checking the forward mast, he helped out Cap with the navigational and sailing crews. She hadn’t seen either of them do anything suspicious, and so far there hadn’t been any “accidents.”
Nancy shivered as a stiff wind whipped over the bow, causing goosebumps to pop up on her arms. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw a bank of dark clouds on the western horizon.
“I hope that’s not a storm headed our way,” Claire commented, following Nancy’s gaze.
“Me, too,” Nancy agreed. She glanced down at her shorts and T-shirt. “I guess I should have dressed more warmly. I think I’ll go belowdecks and get my sweater.”
There was a raised cabin in front of the wheel, with a doorway and stairs leading down into the ship. Nancy ducked into the doorway and made her way down the steps. The third group of students was with Vincent Silvio at the foot of the steps, in a small room that contained sonar and other navigational equipment. Nancy quietly stepped around the group and made her way toward the room at the very front of the ship, which was crowded with small wooden sleeping bunks. That was where she and the other students had left their things.
She passed through the sleeping quarters for the ship’s officers and into the galley. The motion of the boat was more confusing belowdecks, without the horizon to orient herself. As the boat took a particularly steep dip, Nancy had to reach out to the wall to steady herself.
“Careful, Drew,” she murmured to herself.
Looking ahead through the open doorway to the front quarters, Nancy saw that a guy in a blue sweater was already there, rummaging through a knapsack.
He must be cold, too, Nancy thought. She was about to call out a friendly greeting when she got a closer look at the red knapsack—and stopped in her tracks.
The knapsack he was going through was hers!
A Sneaky Sailor
“Hey! That’s my knapsack!” Nancy cried, stepping into the room.
The guy in the blue sweater quickly zipped up her bag, then whipped around to face her. Nancy found herself staring right in- to Deke Ryan’s blue eyes.
“How’s it going, Nancy?” he greeted her easily. He was gazing at her with the smug arrogance that she had come to know so well in him.
He has some nerve, Nancy thought, trying to act as if he hadn’t been up to anything. But then, that was just like Deke. “You were going through my bag,” Nancy accused him. “Why?”
“Who, me?” Deke asked, pointing at his chest and giving her a look of innocent disbelief. “I was just getting a pencil out of my own backpack, to take notes.” He tapped a blue nylon bag that was resting right next to Nancy’s knapsack, then pulled a yellow pencil from his jeans pocket.
Before Nancy could say anything else, Deke stepped past her and headed back toward the stairway leading to the deck.
Nancy glared after him. She was sure he had been looking in her knapsack, not the blue bag. Luckily, there wasn’t anything in her bag to give away her real purpose at Bridgehaven Seaport. She’d brought just her sweater and a slicker in case of rain. She was willing to bet the blue bag Deke had indicated wasn’t even his. Still, Nancy thought, as long as I’m here...
She glanced over her shoulder toward the galley. Seeing that the coast was clear, Nancy quickly unzipped the blue bag Deke had indicated. Inside was a jumble of socks and some orange plastic rain gear with his last name written on it in permanent marker. Nestled beneath the clothes was a copy of the maritime history text and a worn-looking, leather-bound booklet.
Nancy picked up the booklet and quickly flipped through it. It was some sort of diary that had been kept by a sailor out at sea. It was obviously very old—the pages were yellowed, and the dates of the entries were from the 1840s. Could Deke have checked out such a valuable old book from the library?
Nancy was going to look more closely when she was startled by footsteps out in the galley area. Was Deke coming back? Nancy quickly slipped the diary into the knapsack again and zipped Deke’s bag shut. Then she unzipped her own backpack, grabbed her sweater, and started back toward the rear of the ship.
“Oh, Nancy—there you are,” Tom Chin said when she reached the galley. He was standing next to the table, biting into a slice of banana bread from a loaf that had been left out for the crew. “Cap sent me to look for you. He needs you to help us lower the sails so Mr. Vilander’s group can drop a line to check the depth of the ocean floor.”
“Sure,” Nancy told him. She grabbed a piece of the banana bread for herself, and the two of them went back up on deck.
Looking toward the western horizon, Nancy saw that the thick bank of dark clouds was moving quickly their way. It now covered nearly half the sky, and flashes of lightning streaked down from it to the water.
As Nancy hurried back to help with the lines that controlled the sails, she glanced over at Deke. He had rejoined his group, and once again his attention seemed to be focused on Mr. Vilander. But Nancy had a feeling that despite his calm expression, Deke Ryan was someone who could be as dangerous as the worst thunderstorm.
• • •
“That storm was really hairy,” Claire said, stepping out of the van three hours later. She pulled up the hood of her orange slicker to protect herself from the lightly falling rain. “I’m beat.”
“Not to mention soaking wet,” Gayle added, pushing back a few damp strands of blond hair. “I can’t wait to take a shower and get into some dry clothes.”
The severe thunderstorm had overtaken the Seafarer, forcing the group to bring the boat in early to its dock at Newport, Rhode Island. The storm had slacked off to a gentle drizzle during the hour-long drive back to the seaport, but the weather was still gray and foggy.
Nancy was one of the last kids out of the van. Some of the students had already begun walking back to the student houses. Cap and Vincent Silvio stood a few feet away, looking after the departing orange, yellow, and blue slickers.
“A couple of raindrops, and they’re all worn out,” Cap muttered, shaking his head. “I’d like to see them out in the middle of a nor’easter. Then they’d know what a real storm is like. This group is hopeless!”
Nancy bristled as she reached for her red knapsack from the van’s floor. She could understand Cap’s disappointment at being forced to retire from captaining larger sailboats out on the ocean. But it wasn’t fair of him to take his disappointment out on the students.
“Oh, those kids are all right,” Vincent Silvio told Cap. “At least they’re not trying to rob you blind all the time, the way some people do.”
The bitterness in Silvio’s voice was clear, but Cap didn’t seem to pay any attention. “Well, it’s been a long day,” Cap went on. “I’m going to treat myself to a nice steak at Sizzlin’ Jack’s. Care to join me?”
Vincent Silvio declined, but Nancy’s ears had perked up when she heard Cap’s plans. She hadn’t had a chance to really investigate Cap yet. He would probably be at the restaurant for at least an hour. That would give her plenty of time to check out the rooming house where he lived.
As the two men left, Nancy slung her knapsack over her shoulder. By now the last of the students had gone and Mr. Vilander was locking up the van. Saying good night to the science teacher, Nancy headed down Arcadia Street toward the rooming house where she and George had seen Cap two nights earlier.
When she reached the corner by George’s house, she paused to look across at the rooming house. Although the sun hadn’t set yet, the gray weather made it seem later than it was. Several lights were on in the two-story building, but Nancy was relieved to see that the room she had seen Cap come out of was dark.
“Here goes,” she said under her breath. Nancy walked briskly to the outside stairway that led to the second-floor porch of the rooming house. Her feet squeaked on the steps, but no curious eyes peered out from any of the windows.
She made her way down the row of doorways, stopping next to the one she thought was Cap’s. Her heart started beating faster as she peered in the window next to the door.
Inside, Nancy saw that the room was sparsely furnished, with a bed, a table, some books and seafaring memorabilia on a shelf, and a small desk. Cardboard boxes were stacked up against one wall, as if Cap hadn’t unpacked all of his belongings. Nancy thought she recognized the blue work shirt hanging on the rack near the door. It was Cap’s room, all right.
She reached for the doorknob—then froze as a voice spoke up loudly from below.
“Well, now, what have we here?”
With a gasp Nancy spun around. Cap Gregory was standing on the lawn below. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he was looking up at her quizzically.
Trying to ignore the pounding in her chest, Nancy groped for something to say. “Hi! I was, um, just looking for you.” Her voice sounded falsely bright, even to her.
Luckily, she had a moment to collect herself while Cap climbed the wooden stairs to join her.
“So now that you’ve found me, what can I do for you?” he asked. He pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the door, gesturing for Nancy to come inside. “How did you know I live here, anyway?”
Nancy’s mind searched for an explanation as she came inside and sat down at the table. “Well, I, uh, have to do this project for my maritime history class,” she began, making her story up as she went along. “It’s about sea chanties. Our teacher gave me your address. He thought you might have some information about old sea ballads that I could use.”
Cap’s expression immediately softened. “Well, I was on my way to dinner. Only came back because I wanted to bring a book with me. But I suppose I can spare a minute.”
He moved to a bookshelf set into the wall behind his bed. After putting on his glasses, he examined the books and finally pulled one out. Then he sat down opposite Nancy at the table, opened the hardcover book, and showed it to her.
“I do love these old ballads,” Cap said as Nancy flipped through the pages. They were smudged and well-worn, as if Cap used the book often.
“Can you tell me a little bit about the songs?” Nancy asked. “Did you sing sea chanties when you were out at sea?”
There was a look of longing in Cap’s eyes as he gazed at the book of songs. “I certainly did. Sea chanties are the outpouring of a sailor’s soul. In the old days sailors would be away from home for months, sometimes years,” he explained. “These songs were a sailor’s way of recording important events and expressing his love for the family he left behind.”
As Nancy glanced at the songs, she was impressed by the stories they told. Some were love stories, others exciting tales of life on the high seas. Reading the lyrics made Nancy wish she was going to be staying at Bridgehaven Seaport long enough to really finish the project. But she hoped the mystery would be solved before then.
Nancy stopped at one page when she recognized the lyrics. “Hey, I heard this song down at the lighthouse the other day,” she said.
Leaning forward, Cap glanced at the title. “Ah, yes. The story of the Henrietta Lee, ” he said, frowning. “It’s not a very well known chanty, though. There are others you might be more familiar with.”
He began to turn the page, but Nancy stopped him. At the lighthouse she hadn’t had a chance to hear the entire song because it had been interrupted by the falling board. As she read through it now, she was intrigued by the words, which told the story of the Henrietta Lee’ s shipwreck:
In eighteen hundred and forty-three
my bonnie Mary was waiting for me...
The beginning of the song was sad, about how there was no hope of being saved, and that the sailors—along with a cargo of gold coins being transported from South America—would be lost at sea. The sailor wept because he would never see his true love, Mary, again.
Nancy breathed a sigh of relief when she read the refrain, in which two sailors managed to escape in one of the lifeboats, along with the trunk of gold coins. They made it to an island where they buried the treasure, making a map to mark the spot.
But by that time the sailors were sick and nearly dead with fatigue. One of them actually died. The other sailor was afraid he would never make it back home alive, so he tore the map in two and hid the halves in the wreckage of the Henrietta Lee, which had washed up on the island.
As Nancy read on, the sea chanty took on a more playful tone. The sailor seemed to be giving Mary clues about where to look for the map halves:
Oh, where to look, sweet Mary,
where to search for my gold?
You’ll have to ask the barnacles
growing on the hold.
Oh, yes, sweet Mary,
though battered and broken,
my treasured Henrietta Lee
holds the key.
Talk to the mice
scampering ’round the ship’s clock.
They can tell you the answer, dear,
if only you’ll ask.
Talk to the worms
that would eat at my writing desk.
They can tell you the answer, dear,
if only you’ll ask.
Nancy blinked, looking over the last two verses again. A ship’s clock had been taken from the whaling display, and a writing desk had been damaged on board the Westwinds!
A thought flashed into Nancy’s mind. Maybe the acts of sabotage hadn’t been intended to hurt the seaport. Maybe the person was looking for the map to the treasure from the Henrietta Lee!
Clue in the Sea Chanty
The more Nancy stared at the song, the more she was convinced that her theory was right. The saboteur had already gone after the ship’s clock and the captain’s writing desk, which were the first two items mentioned. Nancy’s gaze moved to the next verse of the song:
Talk to the eels
that slither in the rigging chest.
They can tell you the answer, dear,
if only you’ll ask.
“A rigging chest... that has to be the next target,” Nancy murmured excitedly.
“Target?” Cap echoed. “I don’t think this song mentions any target.”
“Oh—I guess I, um, misread it,” Nancy said, groaning inwardly at her slip. Giving Cap a big smile, she asked, “Would you mind if I borrowed this for my project? It would really help me.”
Cap hesitated, and a sudden thought occurred to Nancy. Cap had seemed reluctant for her to read the sea chanty about the Henrietta Lee, and now he seemed reluctant to lend her the book. Was that because he was using the song to try to find the map halves? But if so, why had he shown her the book in the first place?
“I’ll be very careful,” Nancy promised him. “I don’t know where else I could ever find a book of sea chanties as good as this one.”
“That’s for sure,” Cap said with a nod. He let out a breath, then handed the book to Nancy. “You can take this, but be very careful with it, young lady,” he said sternly.
Nancy promised she would, then thanked Cap and rose to leave. Outside on the porch it was still misty and gray. Nancy saw that lights were on in the blue house where George was staying, across the street. She hurried down the steps. She had to tell George and Mrs. Newcomb about her discovery—the sooner the better!
• • •
Mrs. Newcomb let out a low whistle as she examined the book of sea chanties on her desk. “This is really something!” she exclaimed.
After leaving Cap’s room, Nancy had gone directly to George’s house and shown her the song about the Henrietta Lee. George had agreed that they should talk to Mrs. Newcomb right away. It was already after seven o’clock, but the girls had been lucky enough to catch the seaport director as she was leaving her office.
“I’ve heard this song before, but I never took it seriously,” Mrs. Newcomb continued, shaking her head in disbelief. “You know, the ship was wrecked a few miles away from where the Arcadia River empties into the Atlantic Ocean. It happened back in the 1840s. I just assumed that if there was a treasure, it would have been found long ago.”
“Well, someone is taking the song seriously enough to ruin some valuable things here at the seaport in order to find that map,” George said.
“We have to do all we can to protect the seaport against any more damage,” Nancy added.
George nodded. “At least we have a list of the things that might be targeted now. So far, the attacker has been going after the items in the order they appear in the song.”
Mrs. Newcomb bent over the book again, sliding her finger down the page to the third hiding place mentioned. “A rigging chest,” she mused. “Let me see if the seaport has the one from the Henrietta Lee.”
Mrs. Newcomb turned on her computer and typed in some commands. “Here’s a list of everything we have that was salvaged from the Henrietta Lee,” the seaport director said. “The descendants of one of the ship’s officers donated quite a few things from the wreck about ten years ago.”
Leaning across the desk, Nancy stared at the glowing amber print on the computer screen. “Look! A ship’s clock is one of the items,” she cried.
“And a captain’s writing desk,” George added.
Mrs. Newcomb was gazing at the list on the computer screen. “What do you know,” she said. “The seaport does have the rigging chest from the Henrietta Lee. It’s on display in our rigging loft.”
“Sounds logical,” Nancy said. Turning to George, she added, “I hope you didn’t make any plans for tonight, because we’ve got a mission.”
“Aye, aye, sir—I mean ma’am,” George responded with a grin, making a quick salute. “Let me guess. We’re going to stake out the rigging loft, right?”
“You got it,” Nancy told her. “It’s a long shot. Our saboteur might not even show up there tonight. But it’s all we have to go on.”
Turning to Mrs. Newcomb, Nancy asked, “Is there any way someone else could get this information? Whoever’s been sabotaging these things seems to know exactly where to look.”
The seaport director nodded. “The material can be accessed from the computer in the library,” she explained. “We installed the system so that people doing research could find anything at the seaport related to their subject.”
As Nancy gazed back at the sea chanty on Mrs. Newcomb’s desk, an idea suddenly occurred to her. “I think we have to add another suspect to our list,” she told George and Mrs. Newcomb.
“Who’s that?” George asked.
“Claire Roebling. She’s doing her maritime history project on the Henrietta Lee. She could have found that song when she was doing research for her project,” Nancy explained. “That could ex- plain why she’s always studying.”
“You mean, maybe she’s reading books and stuff about the Henrietta Lee to try and figure out where the treasure is?” George asked.
Nancy shrugged. “Maybe.” She looked out the window. “It’s going to be dark pretty soon, so I think we should get over to the rigging loft. Can you tell us where it is, Mrs. Newcomb?”
Mrs. Newcomb gave the girls directions. “I’m going to alert security that you’ll be there, but I’ll ask them not to stay too close to the building,” she said. “If our saboteur sees a guard, he or she might run away before we have a chance to see him. And tonight I’ll check my own personal library to see if I can find information about the shipwreck that might be helpful.”
“Thanks,” Nancy said. For the first time since she and George had arrived at Bridgehaven, she felt that they were really onto something. With any luck, they would catch the culprit before the night was out!
• • •
“This place is so cool,” George whispered fifteen minutes later.
The rigging loft was located in a two-story building near the lighthouse. The girls had paused inside the door to let their eyes adjust to the darkening night. Now Nancy could make out a large collection of coiled ropes, fishing nets, wooden pulleys, and tools that were arranged along the room’s four walls. The center of the room was empty, except for a table and workbench.
“It’s amazing, all right,” Nancy agreed. She stepped into the room, breathing in the scents of hemp and wood that filled the air.
“Look, that must be the rigging chest,” George said in a low voice, pointing to the only trunk in the room. Placed on the floor to the left of the door, its wooden planks were weathered and covered with gouges and nicks.
“Let’s see if the map half is in it,” Nancy said excitedly, hurrying over to the chest.
The two girls examined it using a flashlight that George had brought from her house. Ten minutes later George sat back on her heels with a disappointed sigh. “Nothing,” she announced. “I hope the saboteur hasn’t already been here.”
“I doubt that he or she has,” Nancy said. “So far, the person has always damaged something before leaving. Nothing here seems to have been touched.”
George gazed curiously at Nancy. “Doesn’t it seem strange that the person keeps wrecking the things he’s searching?” George said. “I mean, it’s as if he’s advertising his treasure hunt.”
“I don’t understand it, either,” Nancy said. “Come on, we need to find a spot to wait.” She pointed to a staircase that rose up against the wall opposite the door. “The sign there says that the sail loft is upstairs.”
Craning her neck, George looked up at the railing. “I bet we could hide behind that railing and still get a pretty good view of the rigging chest.”
The two girls climbed the stairs. The dark, shadowy space at the top was punctuated by huge white triangles of sailcloth that were spread out on the bare floor. Nancy stepped carefully around the sail closest to her and went over to the railing. George was right behind her.
“Good, we can see the rigging chest perfectly,” George said. “And it’s dark enough up here that I doubt anyone will be able to see us. I just hope our person shows up. Otherwise, we’ll be staying up all night for nothing.”
“All we can do is wait,” Nancy said softly. She rested her arms on top of the railing and propped her chin on her hands. Behind her, she could hear George moving around the loft.
A moment later a loud crash made Nancy whirl around. “George! Are you all right?” she asked.
George was sitting on the floor between two sails, rubbing her shin. A wooden bench was lying on its side next to her. “I’m okay. I just tripped on the edge of a sail,” she said softly. “I was carrying this over to sit on.”
Nancy hurried over and helped George to her feet. Together they carried the bench the rest of the way to the railing. They were just setting it down, when Nancy felt the hairs on the back of her neck bristle.
“Did you hear that?” she whispered to George, carefully scanning the rigging loft below.
George shook her head. The two girls stood for several long moments, watching and listening. All was still, except for the wind rustling through the trees outside.
“I guess it was just my imagination,” Nancy whispered finally.
The two girls settled in on the bench. For over an hour the rigging loft remained quiet.
“My stomach is growling,” George whispered. “I wish we’d thought to bring some sandwich—” She broke off as a creaking noise sounded out from the door below.
Nancy forced herself to stay completely still as the door opened. Even in the darkness she could make out the silhouette of the person who was entering. Although she couldn’t tell who it was, the petite silhouette looked like a girl.
The person stepped into the rigging loft and began to walk slowly around. Nancy decided not to wait. She wanted to be as close to the rigging chest as possible when the person examined it. Then maybe she and George could catch the culprit before any damage was done.
Tapping George’s arm, Nancy gestured for her to follow, then began tiptoeing silently to the stairway. She barely dared to breathe as they made their way slowly downward, one step at a time. Luckily the person below didn’t seem to notice. Nancy could hear her poking around.
Finally they were far enough down the stairs to see what the person was doing. Nancy heard George gasp as the dark silhouette bent over the rigging chest and pulled open the top. It was now or never!
“Hold it right there!” Nancy called. The person straightened up like a shot, letting the lid to the rigging chest bang closed. Nancy raced down the rest of the stairs, hurrying toward the silhouette before the intruder could get away. She could hear George’s footsteps right behind her, but there was something else—a loud scuffling coming from the corner beyond the stairs.
“What—?” George’s surprised voice came from behind Nancy.
Nancy turned, then gasped as a second shadowy figure rushed toward her and George. Before she could even move, the second figure hurled a bulky object straight at her and George. Nancy cringed as the object spread out in the air, swirling over them.
It was a net, she realized. And she and George were about to be trapped in it!