Read Online The Secret of Skeleton Reef by Franklin W. Dixon - Free Book Online Page A

“I’ll ask questions later! Here’s a rope!” Jamal threw a rope from the plane. The end of it landed nearby and trailed in the water.
    â€œYou first,” Joe yelled to Frank, seeing the sharks were only fifty yards away.
    As the rope approached, swaying back and forth, Frank reached out for it but missed. Then he watched the plane carry the rope farther away, knowing planes, unlike helicopters, couldn’t stop their forward motion and hover. Frank had no choice but to float in place while Jamal banked the plane sideways in order to circle back.
    Joe took a deep breath. The sharks were maybe a minute away from reaching the Hardys. Joe tried not to imagine how fast their sharp triangular teeth could rip him to shreds.
    When Jamal returned, he nosed the plane downward to give Frank more time near the rope. Frank reached for the swaying rope but missed again. As the rope swung back toward him, Frank dived for it, this time grabbing it.
    The plane began dragging Frank in a circle through the water as Jamal banked the plane againto return for Joe. While Frank was being pulled, he struggled to shimmy up the rope.
    Joe glanced from the plane back to the sharks. Through the crystal-clear water he could see their sleek bluish gray bodies approaching—closer, closer. Thirty seconds, he figured.
    Joe turned back to the plane, which was flying right toward him. Frank was dangling from the rope, halfway up, his ankle dripping with blood. Without looking back, Joe knew the sharks were no more than a few yards out.
    The rope was swinging wildly from Frank’s weight, but Joe knew he had only one shot at it. He knew Jamal would bring the rope as close as possible, and Joe began focusing every inch of his mental power on catching it.
    Forget the sharks, Joe thought. Catch the rope. Just catch the rope. Just catch the rope.
    The rope swung by—and Joe grabbed it with one hand, then the other.
    â€œUp!” Frank shouted over the plane’s buzz. The plane nosed upward, lifting Joe clear out of the water. Gripping the rough fibers of the rope, Joe looked down to see the numerous dorsal fins swimming in circles. He figured the sharks were probably wondering who had stolen their lunch.
    As the plane flew slowly forward, Frank and Joe climbed their way up the rope, then Jamal helped pull them into the plane. Jamal was alone in the cramped four-seat cabin, and Frank saw that theend of the rope had been tied around one of the metal seats.
    â€œI saw the flares and went straight for them,” Jamal said, returning to the wheel.
    â€œGlad you did,” Joe said.
    â€œAnd I’ve got a funny feeling something happened to my uncle’s boat,” Jamal said with a sideways look.
    â€œYou know, that old skiff was way past its prime,” Frank said, sitting down beside Jamal. “What do you say we buy your uncle a shiny new one?”
    â€œI’d say he’d like that.” As Jamal flew the plane back to St. Lucia, the Hardys informed him of everything that had happened. When Jamal flew by the towering Pitons, he acrobatically signed a cursive J in the air, his flying signature.
    â€œIt always makes me sick to my stomach when you do that,” Joe said from the backseat.
    â€œConsider it revenge for the boat,” Jamal said with a grin.
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    Around six the boys returned to the bungalow. Frank and Jamal sat on a worn-out couch drinking coconut soda while Joe made some telephone calls in the kitchen. The soda came in the same brown bottles as Rob and Davy’s homemade bombs. Frank decided to put the thought out of his mind.
    â€œMom and Dad say hi,” Joe said, back in the living room. “I told Dad a little about the case butplayed things down so he wouldn’t worry too much.”
    â€œIf anybody’s parents should be used to worrying,” Jamal said after a sip of soda, “it’s Mr. and Mrs. Fenton Hardy of