Smugglers' Reef Part 15

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 almost midnight. 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 s.h.i.+p. I wish we could fly at night, but 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 fis.h.i.+ng, some of the other trawlers might see the s.h.i.+p 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 gla.s.ses. I'll borrow some. I can tell if a s.h.i.+p 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 s.h.i.+fting 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 a.s.sured him.

As they sped past the Seaford water front toward Smugglers' Reef, Rick plotted a plan of action. First, if they were to spy on Creek House, they needed to know a little more about the area. He a.s.sumed that they would hurry from Spindrift by boat, since it would take too long to go to Whiteside and try to get a car. The Cub was out; there was no place to land at Seaford.

The best way of finding a good hide-out from which to watch the Kelsos would be to take a photograph from the air. He could do that this very afternoon and develop it at home. An enlargement, which the photo lab at Spindrift was equipped to make, would be better than a map.

He felt better now that they had an objective. But! "Suppose the _Albatross_ doesn't do any smuggling before Sat.u.r.day?" he asked Scotty.

"Tough luck. Captain Tyler will just have to suffer a while longer.

Besides, this is only a hearing. If he's tried, it won't be until later."

"Guess that's right," Rick agreed. He swung the launch around the tip of Smugglers' Reef, past the light and the wreck of the _Sea Belle_.

For the first time since the fatal night, there was no one at the trawler or on the reef. He put the launch close in sh.o.r.e at the sandy strip near the Creek House fence, and Scotty jumped to the beach with the anchor as before.

Rick joined him on the sand. "Now for a look at the tower. Where did you see the marks?"

Scotty pointed to the rusted structure. There were four upright girders slanting inward from the base to where the top platform had been. Horizontal girders held the structure together one-third and two-thirds of the way up. "The marks are on the first row of cross-pieces," he said. "On this side."

The steel climbing ladder was on the Seaford, or opposite side, of the tower halfway between the uprights. Rick looked at it dubiously. "It's pretty rusty. Think it will bear our weight?"

"Maybe only one of us had better go," Scotty conceded. "I'll try it."

Rick looked at his friend's solid frame and shook his head. "I'm the lightest. I'd better do it."

"You're not that much lighter," Scotty objected. "Tell you what, let's flip for it."

"Okay." Rick produced a coin, tossed it in the air, and called, "Tails."

It was. Scotty picked up the coin and turned it over, as though making sure it wasn't tails on both sides, then handed it to Rick with a grin. "Can you always call your shots like that?"

"Only on Wednesdays." He gestured toward the high board fence that cut them off from Creek House. "Look, just to be on the safe side, you keep an eye open for the Kelsos. If you see them coming, give me a yell. I don't think they'd dare try anything in broad daylight, but you can never tell."

"All right. I'll stick near the boat."

As Scotty walked back to the launch, Rick went to the base of the tower and looked up. The frame seemed secure enough in spite of the rust. He jumped for the first rung of the ladder and hauled himself up. In a moment he was on the horizontal girder. The scratches Scotty had seen from the air were clearly visible. To reach them, he had to work around the girders to the opposite side. He stood up and found his balance, then walked easily to the corner girder, rounded it and crossed to the other side. The marks were only a few feet away.

The upper stories of Creek House were on and above his level now. He could look right into the windows of the second floor--except that the windows were so dirty that he couldn't see much. Suddenly he froze.

One of the second-floor windows was being raised. He saw a vague figure behind it, but it was dark in the room and he couldn't see clearly. There was no reason to be disturbed about it, yet he felt a quick wave of apprehension. He had better look over the scratches and get out.

Holding on to the corner girder, he crouched and leaned outward toward the marks. There were two bright scratches about a foot apart. Between them the entire rust surface had been disturbed. Something had rested there, or, more likely, it had been clamped. He swung back a little to look at the inner side of the girder and saw continuations of the scratches that terminated in round spots. When he leaned forward to look at the outer side, the marks were there, but so slight that they wouldn't be noticeable unless one were looking for them.

His brows creased. He couldn't think of anything that would make marks just like those. He wished he had brought a camera. A photo would have given them something to study later.

Then, as he turned and started back, something whistled over his head and slapped sharply into the upright girder. His first thought was that Scotty had thrown a pebble or something to attract his attention, but when he looked, Scotty was facing the other way.

The whistle and slap came again. This time he looked up, and the strength drained from his knees. A few inches over his head were silvery splashes against the rusty surface, and they were the silvery marks of splattered lead!

He was being shot at!

Rick reacted like a suddenly released spring. He dropped to his knees, his hands reaching for a hold on the girder. They hooked over the inner edge and he rolled free on the opposite side. For an instant he dangled in s.p.a.ce, then he dropped, his knees flexing to take the shock of landing. It wasn't much of a drop, a little over fourteen feet. And as he dropped he yelled Scotty's name.

Scotty started for him on a dead run, but Rick's yell stopped him.

"Start the boat and cast off!"

Then Rick's legs flew as he ran for the launch. For the moment, both of them were cut off from Creek House by the high board fence. But to get clear they would have to come out of the fence shelter and into the view of the second-floor sniper once more. He planned as he ran, and as he jumped across the water to the launch, he gasped, "Stay close to the reef and pick up speed. Get going."

The launch was already in motion. Rick dropped into the seat next to Scotty and his pal pushed the gas pedal all the way. The nose lifted and the stern dug in.

Rick turned to watch, and as the second floor of Creek House came into view, he said, "Give it all you've got. Cut sharply across Salt Creek and the rushes will cover us."

"Hang on!" Scotty snapped. He threw the wheel hard over and the launch rocked up like a banking plane, then he leveled off and the boat shot across the creek's mouth to safety. Only then did he turn to Rick.

"What happened?"

"Someone took two shots at me," Rick replied shakily. "And dollars to dill pickles it was our pal Carrots, because I didn't hear the shots."