XXI
Down the River
It was not until the motorboat was well under way that Nancy Drew received the slightest attention from her captors. Powerless to help herself, she lay where she had fallen in the bottom of the boat.
The shawl, which in a measure had protected her from the storm, had slipped from her head and shoulders, and she was subjected to severe discomfort from the pelting rain. Though Mary, who was well protected by a slicker, stood only a few feet away, she did not make a move to help Nancy. Rather, she seemed to take pleasure in seeing the girl uncomfortable.
Through a blinding wall of rain the motorboat rushed downstream. Tom Tozzle stood grimly at the wheel, his head thrown back in a defiant attitude. The swirling, rushing water beat against the sides of the little craft, occasionally sweeping over the gunwhale.
Though the current was incredibly swift, the riverman applied more power with reckless abandonment. The boat fairly shot through the water.
“Aren’t we going pretty fast?” Bud ventured doubtfully.
Tom laughed derisively.
“I know this old river like a book.”
“But we might run into something.”
Tom Tozzle made no response, but neither did he reduce the speed of the boat. For obvious reasons, the conspirators were cruising without lights save for a small one in the cabin, and Nancy Drew knew that this added to the danger of the voyage. She wondered where the mad race would end. Perhaps in a crash against a floating tree or log.
It was not until she was thoroughly drenched by the rain that Bud came over to where she was lying and helped her to her feet.
“You may as well be inside,” he said gruffly, shoving her into a tiny cabin.
“Getting mighty thoughtful of our prisoner, aren’t you?” Mary inquired sarcastically, as she followed the two inside.
“Well, Carson Drew won’t pay us a cent if she dies of pneumonia,” he defended himself. “How about the gag? Hadn’t we better take it out of her mouth?”
“And have her calling out for help when we pass the first boat? Not much!”
“She’s liable to strangle with that thing rammed down her throat. Here, this will do just as well and it’ll be a lot more comfortable.”
He took a clean handkerchief from his pocket and, folding it several times, tied it across Nancy’s mouth. She shot him a grateful glance as he removed the old gag.
“She’ll slip that thing off,” Mary protested.
It seemed to Nancy that the girl was bent on torturing her as much as possible and was infuriated because her brother was attempting to make her a trifle more comfortable.
“I’ve tied it good and tight,” Bud assured Mary. “Anyway, you can stay here and keep your eye on her. No need to stand out in the rain. Tom and I will keep watch.”
The two girls left alone together, Mary faced her prisoner with undisguised hatred.
“Thought you’d be smart, didn’t you?” she sneered. “Well, I guess this will teach you a lesson!”
Unable to make a retort, Nancy coldly turned her back, but even this did not stop the girl, for she was bent upon gloating over her victim.
“You’re a great detective!” she jeered. “You found out a few things, but a lot of good it will do you. After this experience you’ll be glad to give up the snooping business!”
Nancy Drew’s eyes flashed fire. Though she was not one to give vent to rage, it seemed to her that if her hands were free she would certainly fly at Mary Mason.
“Wouldn’t you give plenty to get your hands on the Crandall jewels?” the girl went on boastfully. “Well, you never will! And you’re sitting not six feet from them this minute!”
Nancy’s anger flickered away in an instant. She was startled at this information which Mary had dropped unwittingly, but she tried not to betray her interest in what the girl was saying. From her hiding place in the storeroom she had heard Tom Tozzle mention that the jewels had been hidden in a secret compartment of the motorboat. Probably they were now in the very cabin where she was imprisoned. If only Mary Mason would go on and tell her the location of the secret compartment!
However, the girl said no more about the jewels. She realized that already she had told too much.
Involuntarily, Nancy’s eyes swept the little cabin. If only she could think of a way to save the Crandall jewels! From the conversation which had taken place inside the old house she knew that some of the stones had already been disposed of through unscrupulous fences and pawnbrokers, but it was certain that the bulk of the Crandall inheritance remained intact.
Mary, studying her victim fixedly, thought she read the girl’s mind.
“Don’t worry, you’ll never get away,” she gloated. “What’s more, you’ll never see those jewels. I was only joking when I said they were hidden in here. Tom has them.”
“She’s lying,” Nancy told herself.
“Five thousand dollars’ worth of the jewels have been sold already,” Mary went on, “and it won’t be hard to get rid of the other diamonds. I intend to live high.”
She strutted across the cabin and preened before a mirror, smoothing out a wrinkle from the silk dress which she wore. In disgust, Nancy again turned her back.
After a few minutes, Mary sat down in a chair and tried to interest herself in an old paper which she found on the table. After reading less than a column, she tossed it down impatiently and went to the window.
Nancy thought that the storm must be steadily increasing in violence, for the motorboat was pitching and tossing on the water like a wild thing. Mary opened the window for an instant, and a sheet of rain and flying skud came through the aperture.
“This is terrible!” the girl muttered.
After pacing up and down the cabin, she again seated herself. Nancy noticed that the color had faded from her face, and guessed the reason.
Presently, Mary buried her head in her hands and gave a little shiver of revulsion.
“O‑oh, I’m getting sick!”
Nancy had not been disturbed by the rocking motion of the boat. Though she had made many voyages, including one ocean trip, she had never been seasick in her life. Nevertheless, she was far from comfortable as she sat in the stuffy little cabin. Her clothing, which was thoroughly wet, clung tightly to her body and the gag bothered her a great deal.
As Mary’s discomfort increased, she began to carry on a great deal. Finally, she slumped down on an old cot at one end of the cabin and, save for an occasional groan, remained quiet.
“Now is my chance!” Nancy told herself grimly.
Taking care not to make a sound which might arouse the girl, she wriggled about in her chair and tried to free her hands from the cords. In vain she struggled. It was impossible to loosen her bonds. At last she gave up in despair.
Even more than before, she realized the hopelessness of her situation. Should anything happen to the motorboat, she was entirely at the mercy of her captors, and from the indications, they would not care what became of her anyway.
While Nancy Drew was occupied with unpleasant meditation, Bud Mason came staggering into the cabin. He gave a little groan and sank down into the nearest chair. Mary stirred on the cot and glanced up at him.
“What’s the matter?” she asked listlessly.
“Can’t you see? I’m seasick.”
“I wish this old tub would stop rocking. I’m about under myself. Why doesn’t Tom tie up?”
“That old seahorse? He likes this kind of weather.”
“Tell him we’ve got to tie up. I can’t stand this rocking much longer.”
“I’ll see what he has to say,” Bud mumbled, and went out of the cabin.
Above the roar of the storm, Nancy caught the sound of angry voices and knew that the two men were arguing. Evidently, Tom Tozzle was unwilling to halt.
This Bud confirmed when he returned to the cabin a few minutes later.
“Well, what did he say?” Mary demanded impatiently.
“Nothing doing. He says we’re going to get a hundred miles down the river before we stop.”
“I wish he’d get sick—the stubborn fool!” Mary flared indignantly. “Who does he think is running this affair, anyway?”
“Well, he’s running the boat, at least. I wouldn’t want the job of trying it.”
As Bud finished speaking, the motorboat gave a sudden swerve which sent him reeling against the table.
“We nearly struck something that time!” he cried excitedly.
Rushing to the window, he looked out into the storm and was just in time to see a large yacht steam by.
“We might have been run down!” he exclaimed. “This settles it! I’ll make Tom tie up for the night!”
He strode from the cabin, to return presently with the news that the riverman had agreed to turn toward shore.
“Running so close to that other boat gave him a good scare,” he informed his sister triumphantly. “He says he’s willing to tie up for the night now.”
“Good enough!” Mary replied. “I’m glad he’s coming to his senses. There’s no use risking our lives trying to get away when the police aren’t on our trail. We can go on again in the morning when the river isn’t on the rampage.”
Buttoning his slicker more tightly about him, Bud Mason again stepped out into the storm. As he opened the cabin door a cold blast of wind rattled the window, and Nancy caught a glimpse of angry waters washing in great sheets over the decks. She was relieved that Tom Tozzle had agreed to halt, for it was a mystery to her how the little boat had managed to keep afloat. Then, too, if they tied up for the night, there was a possibility that she might find a means of escape.
Several minutes elapsed, and from the sound of the motor, Nancy knew that they must be approaching shore. Mary Mason rose from the cot and staggered over to the window.
“We’re coming up to the dock,” she observed, more to herself than for Nancy’s benefit. Suddenly she gave a wild scream of terror. “There’s a yacht bearing right down on us! Oh, we’re going to hit!”
Above the roar and whistle of the wind, Nancy heard Bud cry out in a hoarse voice:
“About, Tom! About!”
Nancy struggled frantically with her bonds, but was helpless. Before she had time to cry out, there came a terrific crash and the sound of splintering wood! Then Nancy Drew felt herself hurled headlong across the cabin.