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of them! Jupiter jumped up as fast as he could with the heavy wooden mask
on, his bulky body staggering in the thick robe of the Chumash shaman.
Hurry, fellows, he urged, his voice muffled by the mask which had
slipped sideways on his head. But first, someone straighten this ridiculous
thing!
A grinning Bob and Pete straightened the mask. Then the three boys
left the circle of fire and plunged into the wisps of fog drifting across the
moonlight. They hurried past the rows of tents and out across the treeless
landscape of the mile-long island. They glimpsed the quick-moving figure of
a Viking ahead of them in the thickening fog.
It s him, Pete whispered. That s the same costume he had on two
days ago.
Indistinct in the fog, the shadowy figure led them toward the western end
of the island, where the giant rock itself loomed ghostly in the moonlight like
an enormous animal. There was nothing at that end of the island but the
great rock, with thick brush covering its base.
Where s he going? Bob wondered.
Wherever it is, Jupiter said grimly, he s going fast and straight.
They moved on as quickly and carefully as they could behind the fog-
shrouded figure, alert to duck for cover if he turned, but he never did. He
just headed straight toward the large rock itself, and . . .
He s gone! Pete exclaimed.
Ahead, where a moment before Sam Ragnarson had been hurrying in
his thick fake-fur robe and horned helmet, there was suddenly nothing but
53
A Shape in the Fog
swirling fog!
54
12
The Ghost Ship
He just vanished! Bob cried.
That is not possible, Jupiter stated, staring around through the moon-
light and drifting fog of the treeless island.
Then where s he gone, First? Pete wanted to know.
He sure didn t climb that big rock, Bob observed.
Maybe he flew over it, Pete suggested sarcastically.
People do not fly, Second, and they do not vanish, Jupiter insisted.
There must be a place around here where he was able to hide, then run off
when we couldn t see him.
Jupiter took off his heavy wooden mask and bent close to the ground. He
moved in a small circle around the spot where Sam Ragnarson had vanished.
The others followed suit, examining small areas on either side of Jupiter.
The moonlight came and went, alternating with the fog.
It was Pete who found the tuft of fur. Is this something, First?
Pete was examining a thick evergreen bush about five feet tall. It was
one of a row of juniper bushes that grew all around the eastern face of rock.
Jupiter reached below his robe and pulled out a tiny flashlight. He shone
it at the bush. There were some broken branches around the tuft of fur, and
behind the bush there was a space between it and the great rock a space
that led off to the left like a kind of natural tunnel!
It certainly looks like part of a Viking costume, Jupiter mused, scruti-
nizing the imitation fur. There s a piece of cloth attached. I d say it had to
have come off one of the Viking tunics. And Sam could easily have escaped
from us by running along behind these bushes.
With Jupiter in the lead, the boys moved along the narrow concealed
space between the thick juniper bushes and the steep face of the giant rock.
The rock curved away to the south. Less than twenty yards from where they
had found the tuft of fur, the bushes dwindled and the boys found themselves
back in the open moonlight and drifting fog, the surf pounding close by.
The Ghost Ship
Gosh, that wasn t far, Pete noted.
Far enough, Jupiter said grimly, for him to run and come out here
where we couldn t see him around the curve in the rock. That is how he
vanished.
But where to? Pete wondered, looking around.
They stood on a strip of rocky, gorse-covered moorland between the south
side of the towering rock and low cliffs that dropped steeply down to the surf
of the open sea. The treeless ground was cut by small ravines.
There re a lot of gullies and depressions, Bob observed. He could be
hiding in any of them.
But why, Jupe? Pete repeated, his voice mystified. He didn t seem to
be carrying anything he could have stolen at the fire.
That is the question, Second. Jupiter nodded. And he s around here
somewhere. How far can he get on this end of the island? We must spread
out and search. Use your flashlights sparingly. We don t want him to see
us.
Jupe s right, Bob declared. We ve got him trapped.
They spread out like the police in the old Sherlock Holmes movie who
were searching the moor for the hound of the Baskervilles. The fog drifted
across the island, growing thicker and then blowing thinner, the moonlight
darkening and brightening. They searched the washes and gullies until the
island ended in a tiny hidden cove on its westernmost edge, protected from
the open Pacific by a spit of land to the south and a shoulder of the great
rock itself to the north.
We ve lost him Pete said.
It certainly seems that way Jupiter said unhappily.
He led his friends out onto the spit of land, but no one was hiding there.
What do we do now, First? Bob asked as he looked down at the
deserted, fog-shrouded cove.
Return to where Sam Ragnarson disappeared and see if we can find
any clues we missed. And if we don t, the well-bundled First Investigator
went on behind his grotesque mask, we go back to the fire and see if the
Ragnarsons have discovered anything.
With a last glance around the palely lit landscape, they turned to retrace
their steps and froze.
Down on the shore at the head of the tiny cove, a shadowy figure crouched
and shone a powerful flashlight out to sea!
Holding their breath, the three boys watched the flashlight beam sweep
back and forth through the fog like a long finger searching for something. A
sea wind had come up, blowing the fog thinner in patches, and then thicker
56
The Ghost Ship
again. The long beam of the flashlight continued to probe out beyond the
mouth of the hidden cove.
Jupe! Bob pointed.
Out on the sea, caught in the beam of the powerful flashlight, a ship
rolled on the dark night swells. Ghostly, it appeared and faded as the fog
blew thin and then thick on the erratic wind. Tattered gray sails full of holes
hung from its single mast. Gray shrouds seemed to cover the deck like a kind
of fungus. The vessel loomed and faded in the beam of the light like a ghost
ship.
Wh-what is it? Bob stammered.
It s . . . it s . . . Jupiter tried to decide.
And even as they watched, the ghostly ship with its gray tattered sails
and fungus-covered deck disappeared before their eyes. One moment it was
there, rising pale on a wave, and then sinking back and gone!
The flashlight went out.
Come on, fellows . . . Pete started down through the rocks toward the
shore of the cove.
The low sound like a growl reached them through the night. Then a
menacing voice.
Avast, ye knaves!
The three boys started, and looked up.
The fog-swirled shape of Captain Coulter of The Star of Panama stood
glaring at them from the headland above the cove. In his long blue coat
with the brass buttons, his gold-braided cap and narrow trousers, he lifted
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