Smugglers' Reef Part 27

"Want to go down and s.h.i.+ne the lights on Creek House?" Rick joked.

"Nope. Wouldn't be safe. Didn't that phone call warn you not to fly over Seaford?"

The phrase hit home. Rick yelled, "That's it! Scotty, I knew there was something funny. It was in the back of my head and I couldn't dig it out. But that's it! Listen, why would the Kelsos object to our flying over Seaford during the day? All their dirty work goes on under cover of darkness. They must have some reason for warning us!"

"Gosh, yes!" Scotty started at a run through the orchard. "Let's go take another look at those photographs!"

They ran through the house and up the stairs to Rick's room, and spread out on a table the enlargements Scotty had made. "Let's see,"

Rick said. "There must be something they don't want us to see. But where? We know there's nothing on the grounds, and we couldn't see anything in the house or garage from the air."

"The marsh," Scotty suggested. "Try the marsh, especially up the creek from the hotel."

Their heads bent over the best photo of the area and two pairs of eyes scanned the marsh gra.s.s. Rick pointed to an area on the Creek House side of the marsh, a short distance below the bridge. "There's something there, but I can't make it out."

Scotty straightened up. "Got a magnifying gla.s.s?"

"There's one in the library." Rick ran to get it, stopped to explain to his father that they might have an important clue, and ran back upstairs again. It was a powerful gla.s.s. He held it over the questionable area and details leaped to meet him. Wordlessly he handed the gla.s.s to Scotty.

The boy bent and studied the photo, then he turned to Rick with a wide grin on his face. "So that's it! Rick, this is their cache. They must park the stuff there until the truck comes!"

The marsh gra.s.s had been bent cunningly over the area in an effort at camouflage, but the magnifying gla.s.s clearly showed some sort of barge piled with wooden boxes!

"Let's go take a look," Scotty said enthusiastically. "Maybe it's still there."

Rick started to agree, then a thought struck him. "We'd better not.

They'd see us, and they might notice the lights on the plane. We don't want to tip our hand." Then he brightened. "But they don't know Gus's plane!" He hurried out into the hall and called Whiteside Airport. Gus answered.

"This is Rick," he told the airport manager. "Gus, how's your plane?"

"Running like a watch. Just like my car. Why?"

"How's to borrow it for a quick trip south?"

"Now he wants to imitate birds," Gus groaned. "Don't you know it's too early to fly south?"

"Don't want to go that far south," Rick said.

"Come and get it."

Rick had no hesitation in asking the obliging Gus for the loan of equipment because he was always ready to oblige in turn. Several times, when Gus's plane was out of commission or not available, either because of engine overhaul or because some flier had rented it, Rick had taken the Cub to Whiteside for Gus to use in instructing his pupils. Furthermore, the island boats were always at Gus's disposal and he frequently borrowed one to go on a Sunday fis.h.i.+ng excursion.

The short hop to Whiteside took only a few minutes. Rick taxied to the hangar and he and Scotty climbed out. Gus's plane, a light private job of a different make than Rick's and painted red, was standing on the ap.r.o.n. It had the name of the airport painted on the side in large letters.

Gus came out of the office and walked to meet them. He was a short, stocky young man only a few years older than Rick, and his slightly sour look hid a keen sense of humor. "I called my lawyer," he announced. "He'll be right here."

"Lawyer?" Rick sometimes had a hard time knowing when Gus was pulling his leg. "What for?"

Gus shrugged. "You're borrowing my plane when your own is in perfect flying condition. It must be for something illegal. You want my plane to be seen instead of yours. You want people to think I did it. So I asked my lawyer to come. I'll have a witness to prove I wasn't in the plane when the dastardly deed was done."

"What deed?" Scotty asked seriously.

Gus looked wise. "You don't trap me like that," he said. "If I admitted what I know, that would make me an accessory before the fact.

Nope, I'm keeping quiet about this." He leered. "But I know!"

"Accessory!" Rick hooted. "You know what that means? Something extra and usually unnecessary."

Gus looked hurt. "I'll remember that next time you come in for an engine check and I'll put emery in your crankcase. Go on. Get in and I'll whirl the fan for you."

Rick and Scotty climbed into Gus's plane, grinning. Rick checked the controls rapidly, then called, "Ignition off."

"Off," Gus repeated, and pulled the propeller through to prime the engine.

"Contact," Rick called, and Gus pulled the prop. The engine caught at once. Rick warmed it, watching his gauges, then waved to Gus and taxied to the end of the runway. As they were airborne, Scotty took the speed graphic he had brought and checked to see that a film pack was in place. Rick banked around and headed for Seaford.

There was no buzzing of Creek House this time. Rick flew in a straight line, just far enough seaward so that Scotty could get a good picture.

As they pa.s.sed the cache area, Scotty leaned far out and snapped the shutter. Then he turned to Rick, grinning. "Still there. About ten cases. It looks as if we've got the goods on them."

Rick flew straight ahead until he was out of sight of Seaford, then he swung a few miles inland and returned to Whiteside. Fifteen minutes later they were landing the Cub at Spindrift, just in time for dinner.

But first Rick made a phone call to the _Morning Record_, reported their findings to Duke and arranged with Jerry to pick them up at the Whiteside dock later for a trip to Seaford. They had to see Cap'n Mike to make arrangements and Rick wanted another look at the _Albatross_.

He had to memorize every detail of its silhouette, otherwise he might find himself following the wrong s.h.i.+p when the time came if another fisherman decided to get an early start.

It was dusk when Jerry met them. "Got a message from Duke," he said as they climbed into the car. "He phoned Captain Douglas to tell him about the wooden cases you saw. The captain is going to keep an eye on the stuff, but he says it isn't enough evidence. The Kelsos could always claim they knew nothing about it and we couldn't prove they did. The stuff isn't on their land."

"Proof," Scotty said sourly. "Golly, do we have to get pictures of them peddling the stuff to customers?"

"Just about," Rick commented.

Cap'n Mike wasn't at home when the boys arrived. They parked in front of his shack and talked and listened to the car radio for over an hour before he finally appeared, then he greeted them tartly.

"Why weren't you at Spindrift when I phoned?"

"What for?" Rick asked. "What happened?"

"Brad Marbek's at Creek House again. That's what happened. I called to tell you, and your mother said you had left. What's the matter? Not letting what happened the other night scare you off, are you?"

"We sure are," Scotty replied.

Rick laughed at the old seaman's astonished expression. "Don't let him fool you, Cap'n. We've got another plan."

Quickly he outlined Duke's proposal and explained how they had outfitted the Cub.

Cap'n Mike smacked his thigh. "Now we're getting down to cases. You just bet I'll keep watch on the pier so I can phone when Brad leaves."

"There's one more thing, Cap'n Mike," Rick said. "I have to get another look at the _Albatross_ tonight. Is there any place from which we can see her without being seen?"

Cap'n Mike thought it over. "Yep," he said at last. "There is. There's a dredger tied up at the pier just south of the fish wharf, and Brad always berths in the same place, south side. I know the skipper of the dredger. We can sort of drop in on him and take a look from there.