The Bombay Boomerang by Franklin W. Dixon Page B

anything wrong, it hasn’t come to my attention.”
    â€œPerhaps the cargo might give us a clue,” Frank put in. “What are you carrying this trip?”
    â€œThe usual things. Tea, curios, jute, burlap, carpets—”
    â€œMercury, too?”
    â€œYes, also mercury. We loaded the flasks at the Spanish port of Cadiz.”
    â€œWhere do you keep them during the voyage from Spain to the United States?”
    â€œIn the hold with the rest of the cargo. Come. I’ll show you how it’s done.”
    Jal Agopal led the Hardys out of the cabin, along the narrow corridor, and back on deck. As they walked toward the hold, Joe nudged Frank and nodded toward a sailor slinking along on the opposite side of the deck.
    He was a rough-looking character in a plaid work shirt, who ducked behind a pile of crates when he realized that he had been spotted. When the boys pretended to have lost interest in him, he promptly reappeared.
    â€œOur bodyguard,” Joe whispered to his brother. “Services rendered free of charge.”
    They reached the hold, a yawning cavern that looked to be two or three stories deep. The men working at the bottom were shifting carpets onto hooks attached to cables that carried them in swinging arcs up to the deck and across the side onto the dock.
    â€œQuite a lot of activity,” Frank said to the chief officer.
    â€œWe have only a limited time to unload, load, turn around and meet our timetable for the trip back to India,” he replied. “To you it must seem very confused. Actually, every step is precisely planned.”
    â€œI don’t see any mercury flasks,” Joe said.
    â€œYou will. They come aboard on trays, fifty at a time. You undoubtedly know that they are heavy, and are fastened with screw-type steel caps. As a sling lowers a tray into the hold, members of the crew lift the flasks off one by one and store them together in the hold space provided for them.
    â€œBecause of their weight, they need special attention when they reach the hold. We shore them up with wood to prevent slipping. And we do not pile any other type of cargo on top of them.”
    â€œHow safe are the flasks in the hold?” Frank asked. “I mean, can the crew get at them either during the voyage or in port?”
    â€œOh, yes. The hold itself is open. These particular flasks have not been unloaded yet. But there is no rule that prevents the members of the crew from going down into the hold and inspecting them, as long as no one gets in the way of the men working on the docks.”
    The boys leaned over the edge for a better look. Men called back and forth in their native tongue. Those below signaled to the men above when to haul away. Winches, tackle, and cables strained under the weight of their burdens.
    Joe stepped onto a pile of rope, paying little attention to the events on deck. Suddenly the rope tightened with a tremendous jerk as someone yanked the other end. Joe tumbled head over heels into the hold, hurtling down toward the bottom far below!

CHAPTER XIV
    Down the Hatch
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    HORRIFIED, Frank saw his brother topple head over heels into the hold. The chief officer gasped. Crewmen shouted excitedly in Hindustani and English. But no one could do a thing to help!
    Flailing his arms wildly, Joe fell like a stone. Then, in mid-air, his toe hit something. Throwing out a hand, he grabbed hold of a cable and swung himself onto a rolled carpet that was being hoisted up onto the deck of the Nanda Kailash.
    Joe stood up shakily when the carpet hit the deck. “This kind of trip I could have done without,” he muttered, managing a weak smile.
    Frank was ghastly pale. “I thought we’d be picking you up in little pieces at the bottom!”
    â€œSomeone on this ship doesn’t like us,” Joe said, his face grim. He looked straight at the chief officer.
    Jal Agopal plucked a handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped