The Mystery of the Ghostly Galeon

away. But Trixie had quite a different plan in mind.
    Puzzled, Honey saw her flip the light switches by the front door and then race across the grass toward the edge of the cliff.
    By the time Honey had reached her side, Trixie was staring down at the river. Even though Honey knew that the galleon was not a ghostly one after all, the sight of it still made her shiver. It glowed and shimmered in the water as if it were waiting to take phantom passengers to another world.
    All at once, Honey frowned as she fixed her gaze on the proud figurehead on the ship’s bow. She could hardly believe her eyes. There was no question about it. The lady was crying. Mournful tears were rolling down her cheeks.
    “Why,” she gasped, bewildered, “you were right all along, Trix. But what does it mean?” Trixie was gazing at the lady, too. “It means,” she replied slowly, “that I’ve just realized those tears are really fluorescent paint, Honey. That’s why we can’t see them in ordinary light.”
    “I still don’t understand,” Honey said. “What are you looking for now?”
    Trixie was searching the grass close to the wooden steps that led down to the beach. “I’m looking for signs of a ghostly visitor,” she said at last.
    “What?” Honey’s eyes were wide.
    “I mean the footprints we saw last night,” Trixie explained. “They should be here somewhere, too.” She pounced. “They are! Look,
    Honey, they’re faint, but we can still see them.” Her friend stared. “Are you trying to tell me that these are just fluorescent paint, too?”
    Trixie nodded. “I’m sure of it. I’m also sure of something else. Someone’s been on that boat— and recently! Honey, we’re going down there to take a look.”
    Before Honey could say another word, Trixie was already moving toward the steps and hurrying down them. Honey groaned as she quickly followed.
    Soon the two girls were once more standing on the tiny beach.
    “Listen, Honey,” Trixie said. “Last night before dinner, we saw the ship, right?”
    Honey nodded.
    “Do you remember the figurehead?” Trixie asked. “I saw it, and the lady wasn’t crying. Then later, after Mr. Trask disappeared, Gaston showed us the ship, and suddenly the lady had paint running down her face. Where did it come from ?”
    “Maybe one of the workmen—” Honey began uncertainly.
    “But there weren’t any workmen here,” Trixie said, moving gingerly toward the jetty. “Come on, Honey. There’s something funny about all this, and it’s up to us to find out what it is.”
    Honey saw the signs that said: DANGER! KEEP OUT! AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.
    She hoped the words would make Trixie pause, but her friend rushed right past them as if they didn’t exist. Her gaze was fixed on the huge, shining bulk of the galleon, and soon it loomed above them.
    They could hear tiny waves lapping quietly around it. They could see every detail of its wooden hull. A gangway led to its upper deck, and in no time at all, Trixie was running toward it. After a moment’s hesitation, Honey followed.
    Once on board, the two girls stood looking around them. They could see the repairs that were being made. Part of the deck was obviously being replaced. Long timbers were stretched across gaping holes, and cans of paint stood waiting, like rows of tin soldiers.
    Above their heads, the tall masts creaked and swayed in the evening breeze. The sails were neatly furled against the yardarms.
    “Jeepers!” Trixie breathed. “How wonderful it is. I almost wish I were a pirate. Imagine setting sail in a galleon like this.”
    For a moment, Trixie and Honey forgot why they were there. They picked their way carefully across the deck. Then they stared, enchanted, at the twinkling lights on the opposite shore. They imagined that they were just arriving at some exotic foreign land.
    Lost in daydreams, neither of them noticed the figure, dressed in a pirate’s costume, watching from the cliffs behind them. They didn’t see him suddenly hurry down the wooden steps. Undetected, he raced along the jetty.
    Then, just as he reached the top of the gangway, some small noise made Trixie swing around.
    She gasped. He was rushing toward them across the deck, his hands outstretched. “You nosy kids!” he snarled. “So you found out we kidnapped Frank Trask, huh? Well, we got rid of him! Now I’ll get rid of you, too! You should’ve stayed home where you belong!”
    Almost without thinking, Trixie pushed Honey