The Mysterious Caravan Read Free

the sea, he noted knots of people standing on the beach. They seemed to be talking excitedly.
    â€œLook, guys, something’s going on out there!” Frank said as the others rose from their slumber. They dressed quickly and hurried outside.
    â€œDon’t you want breakfast first?” Chet asked. “I’m starved.”
    â€œYou stay and make it,” Joe said.
    â€œOkay. How many want eggs, sunny-side up, and bacon?”
    All the boys accepted with a good-natured cheer, and Chet padded around the kitchen, searching for the skillet. The others ran to the spectators, who appeared to be looking for something along the shore.
    William spoke to a group of Jamaicans, while the Americans mingled with vacationers. Fifteen minutes later they met to exchange information.
    â€œThis is the story,” William began. “A treasure-hunting ship was wrecked offshore last night. It had found the site of a sunken galleon by radar, and the men were about to dive when the storm struck.”
    â€œWere they drowned?” Biff asked.
    William shook his head. “That is the miracle. All three survived.”
    â€œPretty rugged, I’d say,” Phil commented.
    â€œTheir boat is a total loss,” William went on. “It broke like matchwood.”
    â€œAre the people looking for the pieces?” Tony asked.
    â€œNo. Jamaicans who understand the sea think part of the old galleon may have been washed in. They are looking for treasure!”
    â€œCome on, let’s join them,” Phil said. The boys walked back and forth, eyes glued to the strip where the shiny sand met the lapping surf. Seaweed and odd pieces of debris dotted the sand. Farther down the shore, a girl cried out in surprise and held up an old coin.
    â€œNo doubt it is from the galleon,” William said.
    Minutes later Biff bent down to retrieve another. “Hey, I’ve got something!” he cried.
    His companions crowded around for a look, and others joined them to gaze curiously at the blackened coin, which probably had been buried for centuries.
    Three men pushed through to Biff. The oldest, handsome and in his middle thirties, asked to see the find. He turned it over and over, studying it carefully.
    â€œIt’s authentic,” he said. “A Spanish silver piece.”
    The two other men examined it next. They were younger and rough looking.
    â€œHow do you know it’s authentic?” Tony asked.
    â€œI’m Tiffany Stribling. These are my assistants, Sam Brown and George Aker. That was our boat that sank last night.”
    â€œOh, you’re the treasure hunters,” Phil said.
    Aker nodded with a one-sided smile. “You know, big boy, you can’t keep this. It belongs to the Jamaican government.”
    â€œWe’ll turn it in,” Frank said, and added, “What kind of galleon were you looking for?”
    This time Brown spoke, his voice edged with condescension. “That’s our secret. Why should we tell you amateurs?”
    Joe bristled and was about to respond when Chet trotted up to say that breakfast was ready. He caught part of the conversation and blurted, “Amateurs, eh? We’ve found a——”
    Joe stepped on his foot.
    â€œOh, you found something else?” Stribling said. “What was it?”

CHAPTER III
Three Bad Eggs
    T IFFANY’S question went unanswered, and his friendly demeanor disappeared suddenly.
    â€œWhy all the secrecy?” he demanded. “We’re experts and can tell you whether the item you found is worth anything or not.”
    Frank shook his head. “We prefer to keep it to ourselves.”
    Aker put on his lopsided smile again. “We can turn you in for concealing Jamaican property!”
    â€œWho says we’re concealing anything?” Phil said. “Maybe it was just an old log.”
    â€œDon’t get smart,” Sam Brown said.
    Finally Chet pleaded, “Listen guys. Breakfast is