by John Blaine
Scotty departed on a dead run.
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Rick collected his thoughts and yelled, “Hey! Wait! Where’re you going?”
“After Kelso,” Scotty called back over his shoulder.
Rick didn’t know what had happened, but evidently Scotty did and was doing something about it. He ran after his friend, brushing off dirt from his clothes as he did so. He heard Cap’n Mike call, “Wait for me!” but he didn’t pause.
At the entrance to the pier, Rick caught up with Scotty who was looking up and down the street, his face flushed with anger.
“He’s gone. No use looking for him because he could hide anywhere around here. But we’ll catch up with him one of these days, and when we do . . .”
“What’s it all about?” Rick demanded.
“Carrots tripped that scoop on us. I don’t know how, but I know he did it.”
Cap’n Mike came up behind them in time to hear Scotty. “He’s the one, all right. There’s an emergency trip on those scoops, set in the wall. It’s in case the operator loses control. Then the scoop can be dumped without having all that weight smash against the end of the track and break things. Young Kelso must have punched the trip.”
“He sure did.” Rick sniffed angrily. “And I smell like ten days in a bait pail. Scotty, we’ve got to get home and get out of these clothes. I can’t stand myself.”
“Check,” Scotty replied. “Well, I guess that wraps up the investigation for the night, Cap’n.”
Cap’n Mike nodded. “I want to be around when you boys meet up with young Kelso. That was as fishy a trick as I ever saw pulled.”
Rick looked at the old sea captain suspiciously. Cap’n Mike was having a hard time to keep from laughing. Then Rick had to grin himself. Don’t laugh too loud,” he reminded. “If Scotty hadn’t pushed you, you’dbe smelling like a week-old herring yourself.”
“I know,” Cap’n Mike said. “Thanks.” He threw back his head and roared.
Rick laughed, too, but when Cap’n Mike doubled up with mirth, he began to grow a little irritated. “It isn’t that funny,” he said, a little tartly.
Scotty chuckled. “Maybe this is what amuses him.” He reached over and plucked a small menhaden from the breast pocket of Rick’s jacket.
“ Dangdestplace to carry fresh fish I ever saw,” Cap’n Mike said, and went off into gales of laughter again.
Rick took out his handkerchief and mopped his face. “Well,” he said, grinning, “I’m sure glad those menhaden weren’t whales.”
They drove home to Whiteside with all windows wide open and newspapers on the seat to protect the car, but even so, the stench of oily fish made Rick feel a little queasy.
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“We can’t go to Spindrift like this,” he complained. “Tell you what, I’ll take the wood road that goes down by the tidal flats. Then one of us can cross over, get clean clothes for both of us and some soap and towels. We can go to Walton’s Pond, take a swim, scrub off the fish, and change.”
“Good idea,” Scotty agreed. “But these coats and pants will have to bedry cleaned.”
“That’s easy. There’s a night service door at the cleaners where we can just push them through.”
Scotty chuckled. “You won’t get any thanks for that. The whole dry cleaning place will smell like a fish market before morning.”
“We’ll wrap them up good in plenty of newspapers.”
“Where do we get the papers?”
“From the Morning Record. I want to go there, anyway.”
Scotty gave him a sideways glance. “Got an idea?”
“Just a glimmer.”Rick’s lips tightened. “And I’ll tell you something else. Until now, this case was just sort of interesting for itself, but now I have a personal interest. I think the Kelsos are at the bottom of it.”
“And we owe them a debt,” Scotty finished.“Carrots, anyway. What do you suppose he dumped the scoop on us for?”
Rick shrugged. “Sheer poison meanness. And weren’t we warned not to go toSeaford ?”
An hour later, when they had cleaned up, the boys returned the car to Gus, apologized for the faint but definite aroma of dead menhaden, and walked to the Morning Record office.
Duke Barrows, a veteran newspaperman but young in years, greeted them cordially.“Hello, Rick, Scotty. Here are those cards you asked for.” He swiveled his chair around and regarded them with interested eyes.“Getting anywhere on thatSeafordyarn?”
“We’re still feeling around,” Rick replied. “But there’s a good story in it if we can find the lead.”
“Keep working then,” Duke said. “I’ll pay you space rates if it hits page one.”
“How much is that?” Scotty wanted to know.
“Twenty-five cents a column inch on this sheet. You didn’t expect to get rich, did you?”
Rick returned Duke’s grin. “If this story is as good as I think it is, we’ll just about get rich. You’ll want to cover the whole front page with it.”
“Can’t be that good,” Duke returned.
Rick looked around the office. “Where’s Jerry?”
“In the composing room.He’ll be back in a minute. Got anything on your mind?”
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“Just an idea.Do you keep a file ofNew York papers?”
“Over there.On the shelf. Help yourself.”
Rick nodded his thanks. “Let’s go give my idea a try, Scotty.”
Scotty tucked his press card into his wallet. “I could probably help if I knew what the idea was.”
Rick explained briefly. He wanted to check the shipping sections for the dates when the Albatross had been seen at Creek House. He particularly wanted to know what ships had arrived atNew York atnoon or before on those dates. He was interested in ships arriving from southern ports in theCaribbean , or from southernEurope . That, he figured, would give them only the ships that might have been standing offSeaford in the early hours before dawn on the critical dates. He had a vague idea that he might find some sort of similarity in the ships that had been offSeaford on the critical dates. The registry might be the same, or the ownership.
But when the compilation was complete, there were no similarities at all. In fact, so far as he could determine, no ship had been offSeaford during the time he had chosen as having the best possibilities.
As they walked toward the Whiteside boat landing after saying good night to Duke and Jerry, Rick rapidly reviewed all they knew about the wreck of Tom Tyler’s trawler and the events atSeaford .
“I sure thought I had the connecting link,” he said. “I still think so, even if there wasn’t any evidence in the papers. It’s the only answer that makes any sense.”
Scotty nodded. “Keep talking.”
“Okay. The Kelsos suddenly arrive atSeaford and move into Creek House. Then the Albatross starts making visits at a time when no fisherman in his right mind would pay calls. So Brad Marbek must be going to Creek House on his way back from the fishing grounds for a good business reason.Right?”
“It figures. Go ahead.”
“Tom Tyler spied on Creek House, and he found out something. Red Kelso warned him, andTyler refused to take the warning. Result: his ship was wrecked. We don’t know how yet, but we’ll find out.
Another thing: Mrs. Tyler was frightened, and Tom Tyler is afraid to talk. What’s your guess on that?”
Scotty kicked a pebble out of the path.“Kelso again. WhenTyler didn’t take the first warning, his trawler was wrecked and he was told that next time something would happen to his family. That’s the only threat they could make stick with a man likeTyler . If they threatened him, he’d laugh at them. But if they threatened his wife and little girl . . .”
“That’s the way I see it, too. Now, what kind of business requires a boat, a house on a secluded part of the beach, and a guard with a rifle?”
“Smuggling,” Scotty said flatly.
Smuggling.It was the answer that fitted. Rick didn’t know yet what
kind of smuggling, but he intended to find out. “If you were the Kelsos, and if you were bringing contraband into Creek House, how would you get it out ofSeaford ?” he asked.
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Scotty thought it over. “Not trucks,” he said. “Cap’n Mike said he hadn’t seen any trucks calling at Creek House. How about taking it somewhere in a small boat?”
In his mind’s eye Rick saw the countryside surrounding Creek House as he had seen it from the air.
“Right up Salt Creek,” he said excitedly.“How about that? If they unloaded at the pier when the Albatross came in and then reloaded into a motor dory or some other kind of small boat, they could take it right up Salt Creek to the bridge. Then all they would need would be a truck waiting there. And if they did it late at night, there wouldn’t be any traffic to worry about.”
“That must be it!” Scotty exclaimed. Then he sobered. “But how are we going to find out if that’s the answer?”
There was only one way. “I guess we’re just going to have to see for ourselves,” Rick said. As they passed the dry cleaning establishment, he took the bundle of newspaper-wrapped clothes he had been carrying and dropped them into the night-service opening. A whiff of departed menhaden smote his nose forcefully and he added grimly, “Believe me, itll be a pleasure!”
CHAPTER VIII
TheOldTower
Rick tightened the last screw that held the searchlight-telescope unit to his camera and looked at it with satisfaction. “I should get a picture,” he murmured. There were still quite a few unknown factors. He knew the theoretical power of the infrared searchlight, but only an actual test would tell whether it gave enough light for the rather slow infrared film emulsion. He was sure that it wouldn’t give enough light at its extreme range of eight hundred yards. In all probability, he would not get an image on the film at a distance greater than two hundred.
It was a little strange to think in terms of light. True, infrared was light. But it was not visible to the human eye. The searchlight would cast no beam that could be seen, although anyone close to it would be able to see dimly the hot filament of the bulb.
Another unknown was the ability of the film emulsion to register the reflected infrared rays of his particular searchlight. The emulsion had been designed originally for infrared flash bulbs. The motion-picture film had been made at his special order. It was not a stock item. He wished Professor Gordon were at Spindrift. Gordon could have measured the wave length of the searchlight on the lab equipment. Rick wasn’t skilled enough to use the delicate spectroscopic wave analyzer as yet and Hartson Brant was busy with a problem in the library and couldn’t be disturbed. He hoped he would have a chance to ask his father before he tested the camera.
He rechecked the data that had come with the film and started to do some figuring.
Scotty came in just as the phone rang downstairs. Both boys waited expectantly, and in a moment Mrs.
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Brant called. “It’s an out-of-town call, for either one of you.”
“We’ll take it up here, Mom,” Rick called back. He and Scotty raced for the landing.
Scotty reached the phone first. “Hello?” He nodded at Rick. “It’s Cap’n Mike.”
Something had told Rick that the call would have to do with theSeaford case. He glanced at his watch. It was almostnoon .
Scotty held his hand over the mouthpiece. “He wants to know if we’re coming down today.Says he has something to talk over with us.”
Rick said quickly, “We’ll be down by boat right after lunch.”
Scotty relayed the information and hung up. “He didn’t say what it was, but he sounded worried.
Wanted to know why we didn’t come down this morning.”
“Afraid of getting smacked with a fresh tuna.”Rick grinned. “By the way, did you call Jerry while I was working on the camera?”
“I sure did. He got all excited. I had to calm him down a little before he went and looked up the answer.”
Scotty had phoned at Rick’s suggestion to find out from Jerry’s newspaper sources what action to take in case they found evidence of smuggling atSeaford .
“He said to report it to the nearest Federal authorities, either the Coast Guard or FBI in this area. But he said to be sure we had something more than suspicion to go on.”
“A good idea,” Rick agreed. “It wouldn’t do to get the government all steamed up over nothing.
Besides, unless we could prove it, we’d be laying ourselves open to a charge of slander. Well, let’s go see if Mom can scrape up a sandwich, and then get going forSeaford .”
It was not yettwo o’clock when Cap’n Mike greeted the boys as they tied up at the old windmill pier.
“Mighty glad you’re here. Boys, we’ve got to really buckle down to business.”
“What happened?” Rick asked. He and Scotty fell in step with the old captain and walked toward his shack.
“Tom Tyler’s hearing has been set for Saturday morn- ing.”
Scotty frowned. “Today is Wednesday. That doesn’t give us much time.”
“I know itdon’t . But unless we find some answers right fast, Tom will lose his license sure as shooting.
And that’s not all. He’ll find himself charged by the insurance company with deliberately running the Sea Belle on the reef.”
Rick found a comfortable seat in the captain’s shack and stretched out his legs. “Let’s hold a council of war.
If we’re going to do anything, we’d better have a plan of action.” He told Cap’n Mike of their suspicion Page 40
that the Kelsos and Brad Marbek might be engaged in smuggling and waited for the old man’s reaction.
Cap’n Mike rubbed his chin reflectively.“Now! It could be that you boys have something there. It could just be!”
“But what would they be smuggling?”Scotty demanded.
“Shucks. I could make you a list a mile long. Most people think it’s only worth while to smuggle things like drugs or aliens, but I tell you many a tidy sum has been made by smuggling things just to escape paying duty on them.”
“Suppose they are smuggling,” Rick pointed out. “How do we prove it?”
“Catch ‘em red-handed,” Scotty said.“Red-handed instead of redheaded.”
Rick and Cap’n Mike groaned in unison.
It was the decision they had reached the night before, and Rick had given some thought to it before going to sleep. “There are a couple of ways we might do that,” he said. “First of all, we know they have to get rid of the stuff somehow. We could keep watch on Creek House until it’s moved. The only trouble is, they may be letting it pile up in the hotel. That would mean sticking on the job all day and all night.”
“Not practical,” Scotty objected. “Mom would object to our staying out all night for maybe a week.
Besides, we want to find the answer before the hearing Saturday morning.”
“Then how about this,” Rick continued. “We move in on them when the Albatross pulls up at Creek House to unload.”
Scotty stretched out on Cap’n Mike’s bed. “That’s fine. But how do we know when the Albatross is going to visit the Kelsos?”
“Cap’n Mike tells us. Cap’n, according to what you said when we were here before, the Albatross sometimes stays at Creek House until almostmidnight . That means that it takes them awhile to unload whatever they’re smuggling.”
Scotty had an objection. “If they were doing any unloading, wouldn’t you have seen them, Cap’n Mike?”
The old seaman shook his head.“Nope. I didn’t dare get close enough to see what was going on.
Besides, my eyes ain’t what they were at night. I just sat off the end of Salt Creek, letting the reeds hide me, and saw what I could, which wasn’t much. If I’d gone up the creek any distance, they’d have spotted me against the sea.”
Rick finished, “So you see, if Cap’n Mike could keep an eye on the creek, he’d know when the Albatross arrived. If he phoned us
right away, we could be here within an hour, or even a half-hour, if we took the fast boat.”
“Sounds sensible,” Scotty admitted.“Any other plans?”
“Just one, which isn’t very practical.We could get someone to fly out over the fleet during the most likely hours and wait for the Albatross to make contact with the supply ship. I wish we could fly at night, but Page 41
we can’t. The contact has to be during the darkness, and I think before dawn is the best time. If Brad Marbek made contact after he got through fishing, some of the other trawlers might see the ship coming.
Then they might get curious and hang around to see why Brad was hanging back. Maybe that’s what Tom Tyler did.”
“But if he left and made contact before dawn, the others might think nothing of it. I don’t suppose they all leave at once, do they?” Scotty asked the captain.
“Nope.They don’t all leave at once, but they usually come back at the same time. And Brad has been coming back as far as Salt Creek with the rest. So I guess Rick guessed right.”
Cap’n Mike did some figuring. “Tell you what. I can sit on the beach at the edge of town with a pair of night glasses. I’ll borrow some. I can tell if a ship turns up Salt Creek by its running lights. Afterwards, I’ll have to go a block and use the phone at Fetty’s Drug Store. We’ll start tonight.”
Scotty got up and yawned. “That’s settled. Now I’d like to look into something. We can’t overlook any possible lead. Rick, remember the tower?”
“Yes.” Rick got to his feet, too. “And I remember something else.That business about the shifting current and the light. Cap’n, have you talked to Captain Killian?”
“Not yet, but I surely will today. That may be worth something.” He walked with them toward the pier.
“But what’s this tower business?”
Rick explained briefly. “We’ll stop there on the way back to Spindrift.”
“Phone us if Captain Killian has anything interesting to say,” Scotty requested.
“I will. Now you boys be careful. Keep a weather eye out, and don’t forget those warnings.”
“We’re not likely to,” Rick assured him.