LAST PLACE IN THE WORLD
by
Sandpiper
Chapter 6
The Chapters
He didn't have a headset with a mike to communicate to the pilot or Harry. The narrow, bench-like back seat of the helicopter was so loud, Frank couldn't have carried on a conversation if he'd wanted to. Below him, he could see azure waters, smooth and empty. To his left, he could see a faint smudge on the horizon. If he remembered where exactly Tortuga was, then that smudge was the northern coast of South America.
Frank shuddered. This was absolutely crazy. Going off to an uninhabited island...his brother supposedly in the past...it wasn't possible, was it? Frank felt a tear slip down his cheek. He missed Joe terribly, every wisecrack, every nerve-wracking impulse that tended to lead them both into danger...
A shudder swept through the helicopter and he realized that Ladner was preparing to land. He could see an island now, roughly oval in shape, palm trees waving in the artificial wind caused by the rotor blades. Ladner set the helicopter down on the beach and flicked several switches. The noise level slowly faded as the helicopter rotor blades slowed to a stop.
Harry yanked off his headset and got out of the helicopter. "Jack!"
Frank climbed out of the helicopter and looked around. If Tortuga had once been a pirate lair hundreds of years ago, there was no sign of habitation now. The sands were windswept, the palm trees heavy with coconuts. The entire island was empty.
The silence seemed oppressive somehow, despite the sand and turquoise ocean; despite sun and the raucous call of a macaw. Frank shivered and shot Harry a hard look. "So where's your pirate?"
Harry grunted. "He's not mine." He pointed toward the interior of the island. "He usually has a lean-to on the leeward side, to stay marginally protected if bad weather hits."
"Why does he live here?"
Harry sighed and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his faded well-worn jeans. "He has nowhere else to live."
Frank looked unconvinced. "Nowhere?"
Harry sighed. "It happens. Old Jack was in the army back in the early seventies, saw some combat. When he was discharged, he found his girlfriend had ran off with his best friend and his parents had died in a car accident. Emotions were high and voltile over the war and Old Jack wanted nothing more than solitude."
Frank shook his head. "So he moved to an uninhabited island?"
"It would work for me, mon," said Jimmy, joining them.
Harry gave Jimmy an amused look. "Thought that's what you did."
Jimmy grunted. "Barbados is a bit crowded, then."
Harry took a deep breath. "Jack!" He waited a few moments and then sighed. "I can't imagine where he'd be."
"You mean he never gets off the island?"
Harry shook his head. "Nope."
"Maybe he's sleeping," suggested Jimmy, looking around. All that could be seen was more sand, more palm trees and nothing else.
Harry frowned. "Let's go look for him."
***
Fenton Hardy stepped out onto the verandah and took a deep breath of ocean-scented air and felt his resolve crumble just a bit more. Laura had cried herself to sleep last night and he'd stared up at the ceiling unable to close his eyes.
The horrible reality shuddered through him again, and in his mind's eye, he could see a horrific explosion, once again reminding him of two years ago and the terrible death of Joe's girlfriend.
Someone softly clearing their throat roused him from his thoughts. He looked to see a petite Oriental woman studying him for a moment. She held out a small slender hand. "Inspector Gillian King, Barbados Police Department."
Fenton shook her hand, absently noticing her pale pink dress and pumps. He vaguely remembered it was Easter. "Fenton Hardy."
"Yes, I know. I am sorry for your loss, Mr. Hardy. I want to assure you personally, that the police will find out what happened."
Fenton nodded. "Yes, thank you."
Gillian cocked her head to one side, narrowing her dark brown eyes. Her long black hair hung nearly to her waist and somehow made her seem that much more petite. "Mr. Hardy, words are meaningless at this time, I know, but I wish to reassure you--"
Fenton held up a hand. "It's okay, Inspector. I just...I just need to be alone."
"Yes, of course." She turned to walk away, paused a moment as if she wanted to say something more but then continued on her way, not even saying good-bye.
Fenton watched her walk to the visitors' parking lot and climb into a modest dark blue sedan. He took a deep breath and shook his head, realizing that Frank had been right all along. He couldn't sit idly by while his son's killer got away.
Fenton walked back into the hotel and veered for the room across the hall where Frank and Joe had stayed. He tapped softly on the door but when there was no response, he tried the handle. It was locked. "Frank?"
"Frank's not here."
Fenton turned to see Janet Shaw walking down the hallway, clad in a paisley-patterned skirt and cream-colored blouse. She gave him a gentle smile. "I saw Frank leave earlier..with Jimmy."
Fenton frowned. "Jimmy?"
"Jimmy Ladner. He owns a taxi service and flies a helicopter." Janet lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Lives out on an old plantation a couple of miles east of here."
Fenton remembered now that Frank had gone to search for his brother. A helicopter would have been the most practical way to look. He cleared his throat. "I may need to find him..."
"Of course. Just take Highway One, go about three miles down. The turn-off doesn't look like much, just twin ruts in the ground. You'll know you're close when you see all the dead sugarcane."
Fenton nodded. "Thank you." He started for his own room but saw that Janet still stood there, looking like she wanted to say something. "Yes?"
She shuddered. "I'm sorry. I really am. They were such nice boys, risking it all to help me and Gary. This shouldn't have happened."
Fenton took a deep breath. Between the inspector and Janet, more of his resolve crumbled. He knew he was dangerously close to losing it right there in the middle of the hallway. He gave a jerky nod, yanked open the door of his hotel room and strode inside. He shoved it closed and leaned against it. He wasn't sure how much more he could take...
***
The wind pushed at the cloth sails, speeding the ship across the water. Remembering his sail from Maine to Bayport, Joe had offered to help with the sails or anything else. Gibbs had been pleasantly surprised and had immediately taken him up on his offer.
At the moment, Joe was in the crow's nest. As the first rays of sunlight tinted the dark sky with streaks of pink, he could see they were as far away from land as could possibly be. No dark smudges on the horizon, just the glassy surface of the sea.
Joe shuddered, not just from the chill wind whipping around him. He thought about what Ragetti had said last night. It definitely made one feel small, this vast expanse of ocean.
The sun seemed to linger on the horizon, a swollen golden orange ball, and then suddenly, it catapulted into the sky, flooding the world with light, it's reflection sparkling in the water. Joe saw Sparrow look up at him and grin. He watched the pirate take out his compass and look at it for a moment. Sparrow pulled the wheel to the right for a bit and yelled out to the crew to mind the sails.
Joe narrowed his eyes. Although he was high up, and Sparrow was down on deck, Joe knew his directions. Jack Sparrow's compass wasn't pointing north. Joe frowned and scanned the horizon again. So where are we going? he wondered.
Puzzled, he absently noted that Gibbs was motioning to him. Joe scampered down the rigging to land lightly on his feet on the wooden deck. He saw Will and Elizabeth at the bow, looking like they were trying for some quiet time and he decided the worst thing would be to go over and intrude. Instead, he turned to the upper deck, where Jack Sparrow stood watch over the compass, one hand steady on the spoked ship's wheel.
Jack Sparrow narrowed his eyes as he saw Joe approach. "Gettin' yer sea legs, are ye, lad?"
Joe nodded. "Yes. I couldn't help but notice your compass is broken."
Jack gave him a wry grin. "Not broken, boy. It points to what you want the most."
Joe studied the man for a moment. "What you want the most? How is that even possible."
Jack snapped the compass closed and nodded to Joe. "Take the wheel."
Joe blinked. "What?"
"I saw you, boy. You climbed the rigging like a monkey." Jack grimaced slightly and rolled his eyes. "Anyway, show me what ye know."
Joe started to shake his head but Jack stepped away from the wheel, taking his hand away. Without guidance, the wheel slowly began to turn to starboard as if it had a mind of its own. Joe leaped forward and grabbed the huge wooden wheel with both hands. He found he had to widen his stance to keep the wheel from trying to turn. The Black Pearl was larger than the schooner but memory served him well and he relaxed a bit, knowing he wasn't in any danger of damaging the ship.
Jack Sparrow watched him a moment and nodded. He strode down the steps to the lower deck and then disappeared below. Joe swallowed hard, realizing he was stuck steering the ship until Jack returned. He gazed out across the ocean and tasted the salt on his lips.
"You look like you're enjoying yourself."
Joe turned to see Anamaria eying him speculatively. He nodded. "It's been awhile since I've sailed and I've never sailed a ship this big."
"Aye." Anamaria looked around the ship, where the crew was busy with rigging and sails. "Aye, but ye've got your sea legs. I'd have taken you for a landlubber."
Joe gave her a look. "And now?"
She shrugged and moved closer, as if checking to see if he had his hands placed on the wheel correctly. "Ye're doing fine, I see." She gave him an impish smile. "Steady as she goes then."
Joe smiled back. "How did you wind up on the Black Pearl?"
"Jack needed a crew. I wanted a boat." Anamaria shook her head. "Still didn't get the boat."
Joe noticed Gibbs give Anamaria a distracted frown and walk off. "What's that about?"
Anamaria gave him a look. "Ye don't know? According to him, it's bad luck for me to be aboard. Old superstitious lot, they are."
"Well, I'd think it was good luck for you to be aboard." Joe's smile widened. "I'd think it was good luck wherever you go."
Anamaria blinked, her dark brown eyes suspicious. Finally, she relaxed and smiled at him again. "That's the nicest thing anyone has said to me in a long while." Her smile faded. "I was a slave once, kept running away. Finally, I think the plantation owner gave up."
Joe blinked, startled by her words. Then he remembered what year it was. He groaned inwardly. All he wanted to do was go home...
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Disclaimer
The Hardy Boys belong to Simon and Schuster and the Stratemeyer Foundation. The authors have just borrowed them for an adventure or two. The authors promise to put the boys back when they are done with them. The authors do claim copyright to the original characters in this story. Please do not borrow original characters without express permission of the authors.