Rick Brant 7 Smugglers' Reef

by John Blaine

  “And that’s not all,” Scotty added. “He said Tom Tyler was first one back from the fishing grounds eight times out of ten because the Sea Belle was the fastest boat in the fleet and the best handled.”

  The more Rick thought about it, the more he was convinced that his theory of the wrecking of the trawler would hold water. Cap’n Mike had plugged up another hole, too. Rick had wondered about the backside of the light. He had noticed that there was a red sector on the townside , a common method of construction on lights of that sort. On Cap’n Mike’s chart, shaded areas showed how the light worked. It was visible from the seaside in an arc of 180 degrees. It was dark in the quadrant toward the marsh and red in the quadrant toward the town. But warehouses and pier sheds blocked off the light from almostall of the town except Million Dollar Row, and since the red portion would be out for only a short time, it was long odds against anyone noticing it or investigating if they did.

  “It’s pretty sound,” Rick said. “Only I wonder if we’ll ever proveit? ”

  “Not in time for this morning’s hearing, that’s for sure,” Scotty commented. “Maybe Captain Killian will have something to say.If he ever gets back.”

  Cap’n Mike had tried unsuccessfully last night to see Jim Killian. He was still visiting his mother.

  Jerry’s car rolled down the main street ofSeaford toward the town hall. Rick could see that an unusual number of carswas lined up along the curbs. The hearing was attracting a great deal of interest, as could have been expected. He wondered if the Kelsos would be there.

  Jerry pulled into a convenient parking space. As they got out, he asked Rick, “Got your camera?”

  Rick held it up. “We’ve got our press cards, too. That makes us legal spectators for a change.”

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  “For a change is right,” Scotty said. “Lead the way, Jerry.”

  The hearing room was on the second floor. Jerry pushed his way through the crowd in the corridor with Rick and Scotty following, and found the entrance. A

  policeofficer stopped them at the door, then permitted them to enter when they showed their press cards. Rick wondered if the hearing would be closed to the public, but when he got inside he saw that every seat was taken. He recognized a face here and there, including that ofBillLake . The others he recognized were fishermen he had seen during their trip to the pier with Cap’n Mike. Evidently some of them were taking the day off because of the hearing.

  The room was actually a small courtroom. Like most courtrooms, it had a low fence dividing the spectators from the participants. At a table inside the fence, Tom Tyler was seated with four other men.

  Rick guessed from their appearance that they must be the members of his crew. One had an arm in a sling and he remembered Cap’n Mike had said the wreck had caused one broken arm.

  Jerry spoke to a man who seemed to be someone of authority, and they were directed to seats in the front row. Across the aisle Rick saw Mrs. Tyler and the little girl who had been with her on that first night. The captain’s wife looked pale, but she seemed composed. Then he switched his glance to the captain himself.

  Tom Tyler seemed thinner in the few days since the wreck of his ship. He stared at the table before him, seemingly oblivious to the murmur of voices in the room. Rick felt compassion for him. If the theory proved correct, Tom Tyler was the victim of unscrupulous men who had wrecked his ship deliberately, just to remove danger from their path.

  He speculated about what might have caused the actual decision to wreck the Sea Belle. There was only one sensible conclusion. Captain Tyler must have used the trawler to spy on Brad Marbek. Wrecking the ship would serve a double purpose: it would remove the possibility of further spying on Brad and it would warnTyler that the smugglers meant business. After that, simply telling him that his family would suffer if he kept on would strike home. Until the wreck, he probably had been inclined to treat Kelso’s warning lightly.

  A door to the left of the judge’s rostrum opened and three men came out. One was a Coast Guard commander. The other two were civilians. A whisper from Jerry informed Rick that they were officers of the United States Maritime Commission.

  Rick turned to see if the Kelsos or Brad Marbek were in the room. He was curious about Cap’n Mike, too. While he was searching the rows of faces, the procedure started. A clerk got up and announced something about the hearing being held before the duly authorized board of inquiry in the case of the wrecking on Smugglers’ Reef of the motor vessel Sea Bette, of so many tons, and such and such a registry number, Thomas Lee Tyler, master, holding licenses numbers so and so. Jerry nudged Rick and pointed to the camera. Rick nodded and inserted a flash bulb. He caught the clerk’s eye and held up the camera. The clerk frowned, then motioned him to come inside the rail. Rick did so and snapped a picture of the tribunal. Then he turned and got a photo of Tom Tyler and the men at his table, with the audience in the background. He looked at Jerry. The young reporter nodded, indicating that two pictures would be enough.

  Rick resumed his seat.

  The middle man on the platform leaned over and asked, “Who is representing Captain Tyler?”

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  Tom Tyler stood up.“No one, sir.”

  A murmur ran through the courtroom.

  “Captain,” the man asked, “do you mean you have come into this hearing without counsel?”

  “Sir, I’m pleading guilty to whatever the charge is. I don’t need a lawyer for that.”Tyler sat down again.

  There was whispered consultation among the three on the bench. Then the spokesman leaned forward again.

  “Captain, as I understand the facts presented by the officers who investigated, if you plead guilty you will, in effect, state that you deliberately wrecked your ship. It you so state, your insurance company will have no recourse but to ask your arrest on a charge of barratry. Do you understand that?”

  Tyler’s shoulders straightened. “If that’s the way it is, sir, I guess that’s the way it is. I’m pleading guilty.”

  The murmur in the court rose.

  Rick leaned over to Jerry. “He’s scared stiff. He must be, to take this lying down.”

  But if the Kelsos had threatened Mrs. Tyler and their little girl, there wasn’t much else he could do.

  Wrecking the trawler had shown him they were capable of carrying out any threat. Rick was glad he had had presence of mind the night before to say that other people knew he and Scotty were going to Creek House. He was sure that had the Kelsos and Brad thought that no one else knew, their fate would have been much different.

  A hand fell on his shoulder. He looked up into the face of the officer who had been at the door.

  “You Rick Brant?”

  He nodded.

  “Cap’n Mike is outside. Says it’s urgent. He wants you and Don Scott.”

  “We’ll come right away,” Rick said. He leaned over and explained to Jerry. “We’ll meet you outside.

  Come on, Scotty.”

  As quietly as possible he and Scotty left the room just as the spokesman for the board declared that the hearing would proceed.

  Cap’n Mike was on the steps in front of the town hall. His weathered face lit up at the sight of the boys and he greeted them with a note of worry in his voice. “Come on down to the sidewalk out of earshot of these folks,” he said in a low tone.

  They followed him to a place where the crowd thinned out, then Rick asked, “What’s the matter, Cap’n? Anything important come up?”

  “Important? I’ll say it’s important!” Cap’n Mike leaned forward. “Jim Killian has disappeared!”

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  CHAPTER XII

  The Missing Fisherman

  Captain Jim Killian, the fisherman who had been closest to Brad Marbek and Tom Tyler, and who might have been able to say finally whether Rick’s theory was true or not, was missing!

  “Cap’n, are you sure?” Rick asked.

  Cap’n Mike nodded soberly. “Sure as I can be. That’s why I h
ad to talk to you boys.”

  “When did you discover he had disappeared?” Scotty queried. “You said he had been visiting his mother.”

  “That’s just it.Took me all this time to remember.” Cap’n Mike shook his white head. “Reckon I’m getting old. His mate said he’d gone to visit his mother, so I thought no more about it.Until this morning.

  Then I remembered. Jim Kilh’an never knew his mother. He was brought up by an uncle and aunt, both of them dead ten years now.Struck me all of a sudden. It had sort of been nagging at the back of my head that something was fishy about that mate’s story anyway, so this morning I went to his house and I collared him.”

  “Did you get anything out of him?” Rick asked eagerly.

  “Not much. Jim Killian showed up at his trawler the morning after Tom Tyler wrecked the Sea Belle. He just told the mate to shove off without him, and said if anyone asked, he was visiting his mother, who was sick. And I’m sure that’s all the mate knows, except that he knew Jim Killian didn’t have a mother.”

  Rick pursed his lips thoughtfully. “He showed up himself? Then he must have left of his own free will. At least he wasn’t kidnaped . But why would he run away?”

  His eyes met Scotty’s and he knew his pal was thinking the same thing.

  “He was threatened,” Scotty said.

  “Looks like it. Suppose he had let a word drop that night about something being a little off the beam about Smugglers’ Light?” It sounded reasonable to Rick. “The Kelsos would have paid him a visit for sure.”

  Cap’n Mike wagged his head sadly. “I sure pinned a lot of hope on Jim Killian. After you explained what might have happened to Tom, I was sure Jim might have something real useful to add. But it looks mighty bad now.”

  “Mighty bad,” Rick agreed. Their effort to catch the Kelsos red-handed had boomeranged on them and now what might be proof of their theory had vanished.

  “We’d better find him,” Scotty said.

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  “How?”Cap’n Mike asked hopelessly. “We can’t go to the police, ‘cause Jim went off of his own will, which he has a perfect right to do.”

  For a moment Rick was about to suggest that they could have the police hunt him as a material witness, then he rejected the idea. Witness to what? Tom Tyler had admitted running the Sea Belle on the reef purposely, or next thing to it. No, the only solution was to find Captain Killian.But where to begin?

  “Putyourself in his place,” he suggested to Cap’n Mike. “You’ve known him a long time. If you were hiding out, where would you go?”

  “I’ve thought about it,” the old seaman said. “Don’t do nogood. This is the first time Jim Killian has left town in twenty years, except to go intoNewark orNew York for a day’s shopping.”

  “Where did he live?” Scotty asked.

  “LittleCapeCod cottage over near Tom Tyler.Lived byhimself .”

  “We might start there,” Rick said.

  “Good a place as any,” Cap’n Mike agreed. “Let’s get going.”

  Rick shook his head. “We have to wait for Jerry. Let’s sit in the car. I don’t think the hearing will last very long. Tom Tyler is pleading guilty.”

  They walked to Jerry’s car and settled down to wait. Through the windshield Rick watched the townfolk clustered around the courthouse steps and noted that they weren’t talking much. He guessed everyone in town knew there was something extraordinary about the wreck of the Sea Belle and he wondered if anyone suspected smuggling activities at Creek House.

  He said aloud, “If the Kelsos and Brad Marbek took the stuff up toSaltCreekBridge before we got there, what boat did they use? The boat we saw in the boat-house was dry, and the boats on the Albatross were hanging on the davits. Maybe we’re all wet on that, too.”

  “Maybe,” Scotty agreed glumly. “I’ve never seen a deal with so many dead ends.”

  Cap’n Mike sounded alarmed. “You’re not giving up, are you, boys?”

  “Not a chance. We’ll get to the bottom of this sooner or later.” Scotty spoke for both of them.

  Cap’n Mike pointed. “The crowd’s coming out.”

  Evidently the hearing was over, because those who had waited inside the building and those lucky enough to get seats were coming out. Presently Jerry Webster came out, too, tucking his notes into his jacket pocket. He joined them in the car and greeted Cap’n Mike.

  “You look like three mourners,” he told them. “What’s the matter?”

  Rick explained briefly, then asked, “Got any bright ideas?”

  “Afraid not,” Jerry replied. “Finding someone is a tough job even for the police with all their facilities. I Page 59

  don’t know how you’d even start.”

  “We thought of looking his house over,” Rick said.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” Jerry replied quickly.

  “Why not?”

  “You said he left of his own accord, didn’t you? You can bet he locked his house up tight. If you try to get in, you’ll be guilty of breaking and entering. And even if he left a door open, you’ve no right to go in.

  You can bet the neighbors will be on the phone to the constable’s office if they see anyone fooling around the house.”

  “You’re right,” Rick agreed gloomily.

  “There goes his mate now,” Cap’n Mike said.“Must have been at the hearing.” He pointed to a slender man in a cap and lumberjack’s shirt who was crossing the street in front of town hall.

  “Think he told you all he knows?” Kick asked.

  Cap’n Mike rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Don’t know. Maybe he did, and again maybe not. Chick’s a quiet one. Never says much and there’s no way of telling what goes on inside his head.”

  “Let’s follow him,” Scotty suggested.

  Jerry looked at him.“What for?”

  “For lack of anything else to do,” Scotty said.“Can’t tell. We’ve nothing to lose, anyway.”

  Rick watched the mate reach the opposite sidewalk, then stand uncertainly for a moment, looking back across the street. Then, evidently satisfied, he started off at a brisk walk. It was almost as though he had looked to see if anyone were coming after him, Rick thought.

  “Scotty’s right,” he said quickly. “Let’s go after him.”

  Jerry started the car and pulled away from the curb. He grinned at Rick. “Good thing it’s Saturday. No paper until Monday morning, so I’ve plenty of time. But tell me what to do. I’m green at this business.”

  “Go slow,” Rick said. “Watch him.”

  The mate reached a corner, looked behind him, then turned down the side street.

  “Go after him,” Rick directed. “Go right on by him anddon’t anyone look at him. Cap’n, better crouch down. He knows you, but he doesn’t know the rest of us.”

  Jerry swung into the side street and picked up speed. From the corner of his eye Rick saw the mate walking rapidly. He told Jerry to turn right at the next corner and to slow down. The blocks were short; the mate would pass the corner in a moment.

  “Do you know where he lives?” Rick asked the captain.

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  “Not on this side of town. He lives out in the district toward the main road.”

  “Any guesses about where he might be heading?”

  “Maybe Jake’s Grill.It’s this way and I’ve seen him there.”

  Rick directed Jerry to go on to the next corner and wait. Then he turned and watched the corner they had just passed. If the mate kept straight on the side street, they would go around the block. If he turned down the street they had taken, they would simply round the corner again.

  The mate turned and came after them.

  “Around the corner,” Rick directed. “Cap’n, where is this Jake’s Grill?”

  “If you’d turned left instead of right just then,” Cap’n Mike replied as Jerry finished the turn, “you’d have been about at it. It’s halfway down the block.”

  Rick made a quick decision. “Okay, her
e’s where we split up. I’ll get out and go to Jake’s. The rest of you keep trailing him. If he goes into Jake’s, turn around and park at the next corner where you can see the entrance. If he doesn’t, follow him and pick me up later.”

  As they nodded assent, he got out of the car and waved Jerry on, then he walked swiftly in the opposite direction. He crossed the street from which they had just turned, and caught a glimpse of the mate from the corner of his eye. The man was still walking rapidly. Rick paid no attention to him. He walked at a moderate pace down the street, pausing once to look in a shop-window. A side glance showed him the mate, still coming. Rick resumed walking and came to Jake’s Grill, a shabby sort of place with only a half dozen customers. He walked in without hesitation and took a seat at the counter.

  The counterman came up and wiped the counter clean in front of him with a rag that might have been white once upon a time. “What’ll it be?”

  “Coffee,” Rick said. He was in a good position, because the back of the counter was lined with a fly-specked mirror through which he could see the whole restaurant.

  The mate pushed the door open and paused at the entrance. He reached in his pocket and brought out a crumpled handful of bills and some change. He counted the change, then searched the pocket for more.

  There was none. He started for the counter.

  He must need more change.For what? Rick’s quick survey of the place showed him a phone booth in one corner. Quickly, as the mate approached, he fished out a dollar and thrust it at the counterman. “Got any change? I have to make a phone call.”

  The counterman took the bill and walked to the cash register. The mate cast a quick glance at Rick, then called, “Sam, I need some change, too. Give me some nickles and dimes for this half-buck.” He tossed a fifty-cent piece on the counter.

  Rick relaxed. Perhaps some of the townfolk had seen his and Scotty’s pictures in the paper, but evidently the mate wasn’t one of them. There had been no recognition in the man’s eyes.

  The counterman handed Rick a dollar in change and gave the mate some smaller change. He winked. “

  Gottacall yer girl, Chick?”

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