When he’d finished shaping the iron, he dipped it into a nearby bucket of water to cool it off, then put it down carefully. He pushed back his safety goggles, took off his gloves, and came over to shake hands.
“Mrs. Ashleigh. I’m glad to see you. I need to talk to you about that gate,” said Mr. Farrier.
“Can’t it be fixed?” asked Mrs. Ashleigh in a worried voice.
“Oh, yes, it can be fixed. But . . .” He stopped and looked around at the four children. “Anyway, if I could have a word with you in private.”
Mrs. Ashleigh said, “Of course. But I have an appointment at the bank right now.”
“Could we stay and watch Mr. Farrier work?” asked Jessie. “Just for a little while.”
“If it’s all right with Mr. Farrier. Then you can walk down to the bank to meet me.”
Mr. Farrier nodded. “You’re welcome to stay for a little while, and I can give you directions to the bank,” he said. “Just don’t get too close to the fire or the hot metal. You’ll have to sit over there.” He pointed to an iron bench along one brick wall.
The Aldens readily agreed.
As Mr. Farrier worked, he told the children about how he had learned his skill from his father, who had learned it from his father before him. “My great-great-great-grandfather was a slave,” said Mr. Farrier matter-of-factly. “But he was so good at making wrought-iron and cast-iron designs for fences and balconies that he was able to buy his freedom with the money he made. He set up his own shop and soon had more business than he could handle. You can still see some of his work around town today. It’s famous and very valuable.”
Mr. Farrier poured molten iron into hollow molds shaped like rosettes and stars. “The same as putting cake batter into a cake pan,” he explained. “I have molds in all different sizes and shapes. When the iron cools, it hardens and I remove the mold. Then I’ll have an iron decoration shaped like the mold. That’s called cast iron, and it can be hollow or solid.”
He pointed to the bench they were sitting on. “That’s cast iron. I make molds of different sections and weld them together. But the bench also has some wrought iron, which is shaped by hand.”
“What is the Pirate’s Gate?” asked Henry.
Mr. Farrier gave Henry a sharp look. “Not much of the Pirate’s Gate was made with molds — it’s mostly wrought iron. You kids really are interested in that gate, aren’t you?”
As he worked, Mr. Farrier asked the Aldens what they knew about the Pirate’s Gate. He seemed very uneasy and kept checking the back door of the studio to make sure it was locked.
“What are you making?” asked Benny.
“Window grills,” said Mr. Farrier. “You put them in front of windows and people can’t break in.”
“Who are they for?” asked Jessie.
“Me,” said Mr. Farrier. He jerked his head toward the windows of his shop. Seeing their surprised looks, he said, “Someone tried to break in last night. He got scared away, but better safe than sorry.”
“It would be hard to steal your ironwork,” said Violet. “It’s so heavy.”
Mr. Farrier shrugged.
“I guess we’d better go meet Mrs. Ashleigh,” said Jessie. “Thank you, Mr. Farrier.”
“You’re welcome,” said Mr. Farrier. He gave them directions to the bank and the Aldens left.
They’d almost reached the bank when Jessie grabbed Henry’s arm. “Look,” she said. “It’s him!”
CHAPTER 8
The Mysterious Stranger
Up ahead, Forrest Ashleigh, Mrs. Ashleigh’s son, had just come out of the bank. He looked like a banker himself in his dark suit and tie.
But it wasn’t Mr. Ashleigh that Jessie was pointing toward. It was the person in the gray raincoat. He — or she — was in the shadows, leaning against the side of a building. The person raised a hand and signaled Mr. Ashleigh to come over. Mr. Ashleigh looked around, scowled, and then walked toward the stranger.
“We have to get closer,” said Henry. “We have to see who that is.”
Trying to act as if nothing were wrong, the four children walked casually toward the bank.
“Don’t stare, Benny,” said Jessie. “It looks suspicious.”
“I’m not,” said Benny, keeping his gaze fastened on Mr. Ashleigh and the stranger.
“So Mr. Ashleigh knows the stranger,” said Jessie. “Hmm. Very interesting.”
“Very suspicious, if you ask me,” said Henry.
Violet said, “I don’t think Mr. Ashleigh ever smiles. He is always frowning when we see him.”
Mr. Ashleigh shook his head. He folded his arms. The stranger pointed toward the bank. Mr. Ashleigh shook his head again.
Just then a voice said, “Henry! Jessie! Violet! Benny! Over here!” Mrs. Ashleigh came down the steps of the bank toward the Aldens.
As she did, the stranger turned and ducked quickly down the alley by the building. Mr. Ashleigh looked over his shoulder at his mother.
She saw him and waved. “Forrest! Come over here. I want you to meet someone.”
Grudgingly, her son came over to join them. “Forrest works in this bank,” she said. “He’s vice president!”
Forrest Ashleigh shook hands with each of the Aldens and said hello. “I hear you’ve been helping my mother with Hurricane Heap,” he said.
“Hurricane Heap?” asked Violet.
Forrest smiled unexpectedly at Violet. When he did, he looked a lot like his mother. And a lot nicer than he had seemed earlier. At least, that’s what Violet thought.
“It’s what I call the old house. Oh, it’s a nice old house and I love it. But sooner or later it’s going to blow away in a hurricane and then what will be left?”
“It’s been around a lot longer than you or I have,” said Mrs. Ashleigh.
Forrest looked as if he wanted to argue, but he didn’t. Instead he said, “Well, nice to meet you. Thanks for helping Mother with Hurricane Heap. I just hope another hurricane doesn’t come along and blow you away before you finish cleaning up the mess from this one!”
Henry cleared his throat. “Mr. Ashleigh? Who were you talking to just then?”
Forrest Ashleigh paused. He frowned again. Suddenly he didn’t look so friendly. “Nobody,” he said, after a long moment. “That is, nobody I knew. It was just someone who asked me the time.”
Still frowning, he turned on his heel and left.
The Aldens painted the railings of the porch all afternoon. As they painted, they talked about the mystery.
“I think someone is definitely after the pirate’s treasure,” Benny insisted. “The gold that Mr. Ashleigh buried. Not Mrs. Ashleigh’s son,” he added. “Mr. Ashleigh the pirate.”
“I think so, too,” said Jessie. “This all started when we were helping Mrs. Ashleigh go through those boxes of papers for the museum.”
“But there is no map in the papers,” said Henry. “We have been all through them. There is nothing that looks like a treasure map.”
“Maybe there’s some other clue,” said Violet. “A clue that leads to the map. Or the treasure.”
“Maybe the map is drawn in invisible ink!” said Benny.
“Maybe, Benny,” said Jessie. “But I don’t think so.”
“As soon as we finish painting, we’ll go through the papers again,” said Henry. “Maybe we will see a clue that we missed.”
They had just finished painting for the day when Mr. Farrier’s red truck pulled up in front of the house. “Hello,” he said. “I finished repairing the gate and brought it back. Is Mrs. Ashleigh here?”
“No,” said Violet. “But she will be back soon. She just went to the post office and the grocery store.”
Mr. Farrier didn’t look happy when he heard that.
“You could hang the gate while you wait,” suggested Henry. “We can help you.”
Shaking his head, Mr. Farrier said, “No. I think I’ll put the gate around back.” He hoisted the gate out of the truck and put it on a hand
truck. Then he wheeled it around to the back of the house.
“What happened here?” he called a few minutes later. He stopped at the fence where the gate had hung and pointed at the hinge.
“Someone came in the night and vandalized the fence,” Jessie explained. To her surprise, Mr. Farrier didn’t seem at all shocked.
He took his glasses off and polished them on his shirtsleeve. “Hmmm,” he said. “Interesting. Well, I can fix that hinge in no time.”
The blacksmith was as good as his word. In no time at all, the hinge was like new. “But don’t hang that gate up until I talk to Mrs. Ashleigh. Don’t even touch it,” he warned. He looked at his watch. “I can’t wait any longer. Please tell her to call me as soon as possible. It’s urgent!” He got into his truck, slammed the door, and drove away.
“Mr. Farrier is acting weird,” said Jessie.
“Yes,” said Violet. “As if he thinks we’ll hurt the Pirate’s Gate. But why would we do that?”
“Did you notice that he wasn’t at all surprised when we told him about the vandal?” Jessie asked.
Henry nodded. “I noticed that, too. You don’t think Mr. Farrier did it, do you?”
“Why would he do that? He just had to fix it again,” said Benny.
Jessie said slowly, “Maybe we are wrong. Maybe the mystery didn’t start when we began to go through those old papers. Maybe the mystery started before that.”
“What do you mean, Jessie?” asked Violet.
“I mean, maybe the mystery started when we solved that first mystery — when we found the Pirate’s Gate,” she answered. “Come on. I think it’s time we looked at those papers again.”
The Boxcar Children cleaned the paintbrushes and put everything away. Then they washed up and went back to the study.
“What are we looking for?” Henry asked Jessie.
“I’m not sure,” said Jessie. “But someone really wants the Pirate’s Gate. Maybe there’s something in these papers that will tell us why.”
“Do you think a clue to the buried treasure might be hidden in the gate?” asked Violet.
“Maybe,” said Jessie.
“A treasure gate,” said Benny. “Like that bridge where Diana used to live.”
“What are you talking about, Benny?” asked Henry, pulling a folder out of a pile on the desk. “Here. Here are the plans for the house and the gate.”
“What bridge, Benny?” said Violet.
“You know. That gold bridge,” said Benny. “With the earthquakes.”
“Oh.” Jessie laughed. “You mean the Golden Gate Bridge, Benny. The Golden Gate . . .” her voice trailed off. Her eyes got wide.
“That’s it,” she cried.
“It is?” asked Benny. “Have I solved another mystery?”
“I think you have,” said Jessie, giving him a hug.
She bent over the plans spread out on the desk. They all stared at them.
“What is it, Jessie? Have you found the treasure?” asked Henry.
“Yes,” said Jessie dramatically. She pointed at the design for the Pirate’s Gate. “Right there!”
CHAPTER 9
A Treasure Trap
Mr. Farrier said the gate was mostly wrought iron, remember?” said Jessie. “But it’s not. It’s cast iron. See all these molds? That’s how Mr. Farrier said cast iron was made — by pouring molten iron into molds.”
“Like cake batter into a cake pan,” remembered Benny.
“Right,” said Jessie.
“How could Mr. Farrier make a mistake like that?” asked Violet.
“He didn’t,” said Henry, who’d been studying the gate design intently. “He just didn’t want to tell us that he’d discovered the secret of the gate.” He pointed to the design. “Old Mr. Fitzhugh made cast-iron molds — hollow ones — and filled them up with gold. It says so right here.”
“Where?” asked Benny. “Where does it say gold?”
“It doesn’t say gold, Benny,” explained Jessie. “But look. It does say, ‘Molds received and filled by F. Fitzhugh.’ ”
“Why would Mr. Fitzhugh want hollow molds? Why would he want to fill them himself unless he had something to hide?”
“That’s exactly it,” said Jessie. “And the only parts of the gate that weren’t cast iron were the outer decorations and parts. Look what it says above the design: Fill and hang.’ ”
“Fill the hollow gate and hang it,” translated Violet in an awed voice. “He poured it full of molten gold, just like we saw Mr. Farrier do with the cast-iron molds at his studio.”
“Pirate’s treasure!” cried Benny. “Pirate’s gold!”
“The gold, the gold, we found the gold!” said Violet. Watch barked and pranced around.
“Let’s go get the gate,” said Benny.
“And tell Mrs. Ashleigh,” said Jessie.
“Wait!” Henry cried.
They all looked at him in surprise.
“We’ve solved the mystery of the Pirate’s Gate,” said Henry. “But we haven’t solved the mystery of who else knows that the gate is the key to the treasure.”
“Mr. Farrier knows. That’s why he didn’t hang the gate back up,” said Violet. “He must have discovered it when he was fixing it. That’s what made it so important for him to talk to Mrs. Ashleigh. So he could tell her.”
“And whoever tried to break into Mr. Farrier’s shop knows, too,” said Jessie. “Remember? That’s why he was making iron grills for his windows. Because someone had tried to break in.”
Henry said, “Of course! And that’s why he asked us so many questions. He wanted to know if we knew.”
“If we hang it up, I think whoever is after the gate will come back for it,” said Jessie. “I think they’ve been following us, watching us. They’ll see us put the gate up. They’ll think we haven’t figured out its secret.”
“Yes. We’ll hang the gate. We’ll set a trap and catch the thief,” said Henry.
The Boxcar Children hurried downstairs. They discovered that Mr. Farrier had opened the kitchen door and leaned the gate against the wall inside.
They looked at the gate with new eyes. It was hard to believe it was made of gold. The cast iron was pretty and graceful. No sign of gold or treasure showed anywhere.
Very carefully, the four Aldens lifted the gate up and carried it out to the fence. It was heavy, so they had to stop and rest twice. But at last the gate was mounted on its hinges.
“There,” said Jessie in a satisfied voice. “Now the trap is set. All we have to do is watch and wait.”
“It’s getting late,” said Henry. “Almost nighttime. I think the thief will come tonight.”
Just then thunder rumbled overhead. They looked up to see the sky filling with clouds. A gust of wind blew, and then another, stronger gust. With the third gust, the wind was blowing steadily. Lightning flashed across the ominous clouds.
Mrs. Ashleigh drove up to the house and got out. Grandfather was with her.
“We have good news,” Jessie began.
“Not now, Jessie,” said Mrs. Ashleigh. She didn’t even seem to notice the gate. Her face was worried. “Hurry into the house. We have to get ready. Another hurricane may be on its way!”
“We have a lot of work to do to get ready for it in case it does come,” added Grandfather. “And not much time!”
After that, they didn’t stop moving for a minute. Mrs. Ashleigh checked her supplies to make sure she had plenty of fresh water and flashlight batteries. She told the Aldens to pack up their things, in case they had to evacuate the island. Then they went around closing shutters over the windows and moving things from outside into the house.
Meanwhile, the wind grew louder and stronger. It howled across the narrow, flat island. Rain began to fall in sheets.
“My hat!” cried Henry as the wind blew it away. The hat flew into the air and whirled out of sight before Henry could even chase it.
“The shutters are all up,” said Grandfather. “Time to go insid
e.”
They gathered around the kitchen table to eat dinner and watch the weather news on the small television that Mrs. Ashleigh kept there.
“What began as a minor storm in the Caribbean has been growing steadily stronger as it moves up the coast,” the weather announcer said. She was standing at the foot of a pier, wearing a raincoat. Behind her, angry waves lashed the pilings and sent spray high into the air. “It has now crossed Florida and reached Georgia. Winds of over a hundred miles per hour have been reported. Residents along the coast of Georgia are being evacuated.” The picture changed to show cars creeping down an interstate highway. Along the edges of the highway, trees whipped back and forth in the wind.
“Are we going to have to evacuate like that?” asked Benny, his eyes huge.
“We’ll know in another hour or two,” said Mrs. Ashleigh calmly. “Now let’s make sure all of our flashlights are working. Here are extra batteries in case we need them. There’s a flashlight for everyone.”
Something banged hard against the side of the house. Watch began to bark and Benny jumped. “W-what is that?” he asked. “Is it the hurricane?”
“It sounds as if a shutter has come loose,” said Grandfather. “Henry, will you come help me fasten it down?”
Hearing how calm his grandfather sounded, Benny was a little less worried about the storm. When Watch whimpered, he said, “Don’t worry, Watch. I won’t let anything happen to you. If the storm gets too bad, we will leave. Won’t we, Mrs. Ashleigh?”
“Of course, dear,” answered Mrs. Ashleigh.
Even though they wore raincoats and hats and boots, Grandfather and Henry were soaking wet when they came back inside.
On the television, the announcer appeared in front of a map showing where the hurricane was.
“It looks awfully close to us,” said Violet.
“The hurricane is moving closer to the South Carolina coast,” said the announcer. “Residents may have to begin evacuation procedures. Stay tuned — ”