Hide-and-Sneak by Franklin W. Dixon

Sprock filmed Chet’s climb, Frank and Joe kept their comments to themselves. Their pal had another moment of trouble pulling himself onto the yacht’s deck. A moment or two later his head popped over the gunwale.
    â€œThere’s nobody here,” Chet called down. “There’re all sorts of fancy computer controls. They seem to say the boat is just drifting.”
    Frank and Joe exchanged a look.
    â€œI’ll go check it out,” Joe said.
    Frank swung past the rope ladder again, and Joe began hauling himself up. He climbed much faster than Chet and swung himself aboard.
    In a few minutes he reported back. “The cabins are empty, and it looks as though this sucker slipped its anchor. Weird.”
    His eyebrows drew together. “Hey, Sprock! Is this one of those plot twists Zack promised us?”
    Kerwin gave a quick laugh. “I wish.”
    Joe shrugged. “Maybe we should change the name from the Jolly Roger to the Marie Celeste. ”
    Sprock looked confused. “The who?”
    â€œI guess you’re not the biggest nautical trivia fan,” Frank said with a grin.
    Kerwin shook his head. “Neither was Zack, until that businesswoman began talking about the romance of the sea. Poor Melody wound up doing this whole pile of research so Zack could impress Ms. Athelney.”
    Sprock bit his lip.
    I’ll bet he feels he’s giving too many inside secrets away, Frank figured. He decided to change the subject.
    â€œThe Marie or Mary Celeste is one of the great mystery ships of sailing history,” Frank told Kerwin. “A merchant ship found it drifting along. All the crew and passengers were gone. There was a small,half-eaten meal on the table.” He paused for a moment, then added, “We’ll call this in to the harbor police—after we get away from here.”
    Frank called up to his teammates on board the Jolly Roger, “Come on back. Let’s haul out—”
    He was cut off by the whoop of a siren.
    Oh, great, Frank thought. Perfect time for the harbor police to catch up with us.

9 The Financier
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    Chet Morton ran for the rope ladder. “We’ve got to get out of here!” he cried, panic in his voice.
    Joe took his friend by the arm. “If they haven’t spotted us already, the cops are sure to see us any second.”
    He gave his pal a lopsided smile. “I’d rather explain what we were doing here than why we were running away. Besides, if we’re lucky, this won’t be our sunburned friend from yesterday.”
    But luck wasn’t on their side. The first face to appear over the rope ladder was sunburned and peeling.
    Obviously the harbor patrolman had recognizedthe Sleuth. His expression grew more grim as he got closer.
    â€œWe had a report that the owner of this vessel wasn’t responding to calls.” The officer took Joe by the arm and began leading him toward the bow of the boat. “Can you tell us anything about that?”
    Joe noticed that the cop’s partner was questioning Chet, and taking him in the opposite direction—out of earshot. This was a typical police tactic, separating the suspects during questioning.
    â€œLook, Officer”—Joe squinted to get a look at the nametag on the cop’s blue windbreaker—“Nelson. We’re working on a college film out here. Hoping to get a better view of the bay, we pulled up beside this yacht and called to the people on board. When we didn’t get an answer, we figured we’d better check it out.”
    â€œYou didn’t go into the cabins? You didn’t touch anything?” Officer Nelson demanded.
    Joe could feel the color rising in his own face. He fought down his anger before he said something stupid.
    â€œUh, Charlie?” The other officer interrupted. “Better take a look here. I brought this kid to the stern, and he spotted something in the water.”
    Joe looked across the surface of the