captain of our expedition.â
Flask looked as if he had spent his entire life at sea. His tanned face was textured with creases, hishair was a scraggly gray, and he wore a chain around his neck from which hung a gleaming gold coin. Though Sandy Flask was probably in his sixties, to Frank he had the air of someone who would live forever.
âNo!â Montclare told Flask emphatically. âWe cannot afford to miss a morningâs work. The time is simply too valuable to me. Nâest-ce pas? â
âBut this woman could be in trouble,â Flask said in a gravelly voice. âAt the very least, we should send a few guys to check around town for her.â
âThe crew is small enough as it is,â Montclare said.
Frank realized they were arguing about whether to look for Chrissy, but Chrissy apparently didnât want to be found. âExcuse me,â Frank said, stepping up to Flask and Montclare. âMaybe my brother and I can help you out.â
âWho are you?â Flask asked, eyeing Frank, then Joe.
âTheyâre okay,â Ted said, walking over. âI met them last night. In fact, they just stopped Brunelli from demolishing Ziggy.â
Flask gave a gruff chuckle. âAs you may have noticed,â he said, âmy crew is a little edgy these days. It always happens when men catch the scent of treasure. They change a bit, usually for the worse. All of a sudden, they turn greedy, suspicious, ornery.â
âHave you found the pirate ship?â Joe asked, hoping Flask would be more forthcoming than Ted was the night before.
âYeah, we found it a couple of weeks ago, out by Skeleton Reef,â Flask said. âI told the crew not to tell anybody, but people come by in their boats, they see whatâs going on. As they say, the catâs out of the bag. I guess half the island knows weâre hauling up treasure now.â
âCongratulations,â Frank said.
âNow, just how do you want to help out?â Flask said.
âMy brother and I can check around town for Chrissy Peters,â Frank said. âAt the very least, we could stop by the police station and hospital. That way you guys can head right out to sea without missing any work time.â
âWell, thatâs awfully neighborly of you,â Flask said, looking at the Hardys with approval. âHere, Iâll give you my ship-to-shore number so you can call me on my boat after youâve done your checking. Tell the operator to charge it to me. Iâm concerned about Chrissy, so call me right away.â Flask wrote his number on a crumpled sheet of paper and handed it to Frank.
âWeâll call you soon,â Frank told him.
âThanks a lot, mates,â Flask said, tipping his captainâs cap.
Moments later the Hardys watched the salvage crew head back toward the dock. âGood thinking,Frank,â Joe said once the crew was out of earshot. âThis way we can ask Chrissy if she wants these guys to know where she is or not.â
A little down from the docks, the Hardys saw a number of fishermen launching boats off the beach. The boats were mostly long wooden skiffs, none of which had motors, and the fishing equipment seemed to consist primarily of enormous nets. Mostly shirtless and barefooted, the fishermen went cheerfully about their work.
âWhat are you up to, mon?â Joe heard one fisherman say to another.
âOh, not much at all, mon,â the other fisherman replied with a casual wave.
âI noticed the fishermen by the docks had motorized boats,â Joe said. âBut I guess some of them prefer to do it the way itâs been done since Columbus came passing through the neighborhood.â
âEither that,â Frank said, âor they canât afford the motors.â
Looking back at the mainland, Frank admired the variety of vegetation on the island. Lush green trees and shrubs of all sizes and shapes stretched in every