The Secret Agent on Flight 101 by Franklin W. Dixon Page A

water.
    â€œPush up hard on the mast!” he shouted to Joe and Chet.
    The power of their combined efforts started to rotate the sailboat.
    â€œHarder!” Frank yelled. “Push up harder!”
    Suddenly the boat rolled to an upright position. Frank reached for a hand bail-out pump clamped against the inside of the hull. Working frantically, he pumped the water out of the boat. Then he flung himself over the gunwales, followed by Joe and Chet.
    â€œThey’re taking off!” Vordo bellowed to Bleeker. “After ’em!”
    The two men plunged into the water and swam toward the three boys.
    â€œUp with the sails!” Frank commanded. “I’ll take the helm.”
    Joe and Chet hoisted the sails into place. A strong breeze caught them and began pushing the boat ahead. Frank turned the craft sharply away from the islet.
    Vordo screamed at them furiously, “Stop!”
    â€œHe seems to be the excitable type,” Chet said, weak with relief, as they went speeding back toward the mainland.
    â€œWe certainly didn’t win that battle,” Joe observed wryly. “We’re retreating.”
    Frank nodded. “We’ll have to find another way to get here, and fast,” he declared. “If Dad’s a prisoner in the lighthouse, they’ll probably move him out as quickly as they can.”
    The boat had covered nearly half the distance to the mainland when the sails became almost limp.
    â€œThe wind is dying down,” Joe said, alarmed. “We’re barely moving.”
    Gradually the breeze subsided to a complete calm. The sailboat ceased to move ahead and rocked gently with the waves. Frank grabbed a paddle that was clamped under the gunwale. “Guess we’ll have to get back the hard way.”
    â€œIt’ll take us all night at this rate!” Chet exclaimed. “There can’t be much more than another hour or so of daylight.”
    â€œWe have no choice,” Frank said. “Let’s take turns paddling.”
    Chet’s prediction proved to be right. It was well into the night before they could see the vague outline of docks strung along the coast.
    Presently they heard the put-put of an outboard motor and a bright beam of light swept the surface of water ahead. As the boat drew closer, they recognized the pilot as the man who had rented them the sailboat.
    â€œHey!” he shouted. “You said you wanted the boat for the day, not for the night!”
    â€œRight.” Frank grinned. “We were becalmed. How about giving us a tow to your dock?”
    The man threw them a line and went on, “I’ve been searching for you guys since dark. In an hour I was going to notify the Coast Guard.”
    â€œI’m sorry,” Frank said.
    When they reached land, the boatman saw that the youths were totally exhausted. “I have extra bunks in my shack,” he said. “It’ll be daylight in another couple of hours. Why don’t you lads eat a bite, then get some sleep?” The boys accepted his offer gratefully.
    Before turning in, Frank called the airport and asked to speak to Jack.
    â€œI was worried about you fellows,” the pilot said with deep concern. “I’ve been waiting here in the operations shack, wondering what happened. I almost notified the police.”
    Frank told him of the day’s adventure, then suggested that they meet in the morning for breakfast.
    It was five o’clock when Frank was awakened by the sound of a motor. He climbed from his bunk and peered out the window. What he saw caused him to snap wide awake. Vordo and Bleeker in their powerboat! “They must have made temporary repairs,” he thought.
    Frank awakened his companions. “Wh-what’s the matter?” Chet mumbled, rubbing his eyes.
    â€œLook!” Frank said, pointing to the boat. It was just docking at a pier where a sign read: CLARK’S BOAT REPAIRS.
    â€œThat’s it!” Joe