The Mystery of the Chinese Junk Read Online Free Page B

And why?
    â€œWe do not wish to sell,” Frank told Mr. Ti-Ming.
    The man shrugged. “There is an old Chinese saying that bad luck follows those who will not be reasonable. You may regret your decision.”
    The youthful owners of the Hai Hau began to suspect the same thing. But they rejected any thought of giving up the junk, and cast-off as George Ti-Ming stood watching them, his eyes slitted with annoyance.
    The sky was overcast, with a brisk breeze chopping up the gray-green sea. The Bayport crew hoisted sail to take advantage of the wind.
    â€œBoy, at last we get a chance to enjoy ourselves!” Chet lolled back in the stem, lacing his hands behind his head.
    â€œYou said it,” Frank agreed. “But we’d better keep an eye on the weather.”
    The outer harbor was alive with shipping, but gradually they left this scene of activity behind. As the Hai Hau proceeded along during the late afternoon, the wind gradually died down and mist gathered over the water. Sails flapping, the junk had to depend on its motor.
    â€œThat fog’s building up,” Tony remarked. “We’d better hug the shoreline.”
    Joe, who was handling the tiller, nodded. “Looks as though it’s going to be a real peasouper.” He cut speed as the fog became thicker.
    The hooting of foghorns reached their ears. Frank began sounding their own power whistle, a blast every minute. Bit by bit, the fog closed in. Soon they were blanketed by a thick curtain.
    â€œThink we should drop anchor?” Joe asked.
    His question was answered as they felt a sudden bump from the bottom. The motor churned uselessly.
    â€œWe’re aground!” Biff exclaimed.
    Joe cut the outboard hastily, hoping that no damage had occurred.
    â€œN-now what?” said Chet nervously.
    Frank shrugged. “Wait it out till the fog lifts. It’s about all we can do.”
    It was an eerie sensation, lying still on the water, cut off from the outside world. The boys took turns ringing the junk’s bell. From time to time, muffled sounds drifted through the swirling mist.
    Chet had taken charge of the galley. As he prepared to heat up cans of beans for supper on the charcoal stove, he accidentally spilled several red-hot embers onto the wooden deck.
    â€œWatch it!” Tony yelled.
    Joe doused the embers with a splash of water. “Take it easy, Chet!”
    â€œThis junk must be jinxed!” Biff grumbled.
    The fog did not lift until morning. Biff and Tony pried the junk loose with the euloh oar and a boat hook, while Frank reversed the engine. Fortunately, no damage had occurred.
    The boys resumed their voyage, making good time. They slept on board again that night and at noon the next day, Saturday, triumphantly sailed into Bayport Harbor. A crowd gathered as the junk approached the public dock.
    â€œBoy, look at the reception!” Chet exulted.
    â€œAll we need is a brass band,” Tony agreed with a pleased grin. “This’ll get our boat business off to a flying start!”
    The boys’ satisfaction dimmed considerably when they found themselves greeted by laughs and joking comments. Clams Dagget was in the forefront of the crowd, spurring on the spectators with jeering remarks.
    â€œHere comes the ‘Hee Haw’! I told you they was buyin’ a real junk!” he hooted. “I’d sooner put to sea in a bathtub!”
    Joe scrambled up on the dock, ready to blast Clams angrily. But Frank laid a restraining hand on his brother’s arm.
    â€œLet him have his little joke.” Calling out to Clams, he said, “It’s pronounced ‘Hay How.’ ”
    After arranging for space at a dock that had day and night guards, the chums left the Hai Hau tied up, planning to get in touch with one another by phone. Frank and Joe hurried home. They found Aunt Gertrude pale and upset.
    â€œI’m glad you’re back!” she said, as they each gave her a hug.