Free Mystery of the Whale Tattoo by Franklin W. Dixon

the wharf at which the old whaling ship Charles W. Morgan was moored. A group of leathery-skinned men in seamen’s garb was congregated on a nearby bench.
    â€œThat fellow in the blue shirt,” Frank whispered to Joe and Chet. “Isn’t he one of the guys who was in the red car?”
    Chet and Joe admitted there was a strong resemblance, but could not be sure.
    Frank decided to strike up a conversation with the man while the other two went aboard the whaler. He sauntered to the bench and sat down.
    â€œWhat a beautiful ship,” he said. “I’ll bet she has quite a history.”
    â€œAye. She does,” replied the man in the blue shirt.
    â€œI’d sure like to go through her with someone who could tell me her background,” Frank went on.
    â€œI’ll take you—for a dollar!”
    â€œIt’s a deal.” Frank took a bill from his wallet and handed it to the grizzled man.
    â€œThanks. Tim’s the name.”
    Frank’s heart quickened as he saw a whale tattoo, similar to Boko’s on his guide’s blue-veined hand.
    The two quickly boarded the Charles W. Morgan, and walked past Joe and Chet, who were chatting with a man in a captain’s uniform. Tim took Frank on a quick tour of the deck. He knew his subject well, pointing out the davits from which the longboats were lowered to pursue whales, the brick hearths over which the oil was boiled from the blubber, and explained the function of the huge pieces of block and tackle.
    As the old fellow expounded, Frank noticed that Chet and Joe were now following him at a discreet distance.
    Tim took Frank below deck, where the enormous backbone of a Bowhead Whale was propped against the ribs of the ship. The two moved in its direction, while Tim explained how the ship’s frame and planking had been built of live oak. He pointed out the broad-bladed harpoons used for the original strike against a whale and the thinner, long-shanked iron lances employed in the final killing thrust to the heart.
    An old anchor chain lay in a great coil near the tall, gleaming white backbone. Frank bent down to examine the chain’s massive links.
    â€œDo you mean,” he said, “that they really cranked something this heavy up by—?”
    His question was cut short by a grating sound. He jerked his eyes up and saw the backbone falling on him. Instantly he hurled himself backward, hit the deck, and rolled away. The heavy whale-bone crashed over the coiled chain!
    Joe and Chet came pounding to his side as he regained his feet. “Frank! Frank! Are you all right?” his brother asked.
    â€œYes. It missed. Quick, where did Tim go?”

    Instantly Frank hurled himself backward
    â€œHe ran up that gangway,” Chet cried. “Right after he shoved the backbone at you.”
    â€œAfter him!” Frank commanded.
    The boys dashed up the steps to the upper deck. The area was jammed with tourists and also the wharf below.
    â€œToo late,” Joe said angrily. “We’d never find him in this crowd.”
    The boys leaned against a rail. “We know his full name at least,” Joe said.
    Frank looked surprised. “How so?”
    â€œFrom Captain Flint,” Joe explained. “It’s Tim Varney.”
    Frank nodded approvingly. “Nice work, Joe.” He told them about Varney’s whale tattoo, and suggested they talk to Captain Flint again.
    Flint was outraged that such a thing had happened on his ship, and apologized to Frank. “I wish I could tell you more about Varney,” he said, “but I can’t. Nobody around here knows anything about him, except that he’s a drifter.”
    â€œCaptain,” Joe asked, “are you familiar with stuffed whales?”
    The captain pursed his lips. “Well, there’s only one that I’ve ever heard of. It’s in a museum of natural history. Wait a minute. There’s somebody who knows more about this