Smugglers' Reef: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story Read online

  CHAPTER IV

  A Warning

  Cap'n Mike tested his line, then gave a sharp tug. He hauled rapidlyand lifted a three-pound blackfish into the boat.

  "Practically a minnow," he said.

  "Did we come out here to fish or to talk?" Rick asked. They wereanchored a few hundred yards off the reef tip and had been for almostan hour. In that time Cap'n Mike had made a good haul of four blacks,one flounder and a porgy. Rick and Scotty had caught two blacksapiece.

  There was a definite twinkle in Cap'n Mike's eyes. "Came to talk," hesaid. "But the fish are biting too good. Better fish while thefishing's good. Time enough to talk later."

  "Time enough for fishing later, you mean," Rick retorted. "Hauling inblackfish isn't going to find out why the _Sea Belle_ was wrecked."

  "Got the answer to that already," Cap'n Mike said.

  Rick and Scotty stared. "You have?" Rick asked incredulously.

  "Stands to reason. Didn't you tell me you knew Mrs. Tyler was scared?"

  "Yes, but what...."

  "Well, Tom is scared, too. He wasn't, until the _Sea Belle_ waswrecked, but he sure is now. That's why he's sticking to that story ofhis instead of telling the truth."

  "What is the truth?" Scotty demanded.

  "Don't know that. Yet. Reckon I'll find out, though. Only I'll needsome help."

  Keen eyes surveyed the two boys.

  Rick worked his hand line absently. "You mean you want us to help?"

  "Seems I've read about you boys solving a mystery or two, haven't I?"

  "We've had a couple of lucky breaks," Scotty said. "We're not realdetectives."

  Cap'n Mike tried his line and muttered, "Feels like a cunner isstealing my bait. Well, boys, I wouldn't be surprised none if a littleluck like yours is what we need. Can't pretend, though, that you mightnot be walking right into something you wouldn't like. Anything thatscares Tom Tyler is something anyone with sense would be afraid of."

  Rick hauled in his line and saw that his bait was gone. He rebaited,his mind on what he already knew of the case. "I've been wanting toask you," he said. "That answer you gave to Jerry when he asked whereTom Tyler was. You said 'Inside. Surrounded by fools.' What did youmean?"

  Cap'n Mike sniffed. "Just what I said. If the constable and the resthadn't been fools they would have known that Tom Tyler was afraid totalk. Just like plenty of others are afraid."

  Rick picked up his ears. "Others? Cap'n, I think you know a few thingsyou haven't told us."

  The old seaman hauled in his line and grunted when he saw that hisbait had been stolen. "Reckon we got too many bait stealers down belownow. Either of you boys hungry?"

  "I am," Scotty said promptly.

  "I could eat," Rick admitted. He looked at his watch. It was almostnoon.

  "Then let's haul anchor and get out of here."

  In a moment the hand lines were wound on driers and the anchor stowed.At Cap'n Mike's direction, Rick pointed the launch to the south,toward the town. The old man took out his pocketknife, whetted itbriefly on the sole of his shoe, and commenced to clean and fillet thefish they had caught. Scotty slipped into the seat beside Rick.

  "What do you think about trying to solve this one?"

  Rick shrugged. There was nothing he enjoyed as much as a mystery, buthe wanted more information from Captain Michael O'Shannon before heagreed to anything. He had suspected that the old seaman knew morethan he was saying. "We'll wait and see what develops," he said. "Okaywith you?"

  "Suits me," Scotty agreed.

  The launch sped past Million Dollar Row, leaving behind a string offishy waste as Cap'n Mike went on with his cleaning. By the time theywere even with the town he had a handsome stack of white bonelessfillets all ready for the pan. He brought them forward and took aseat next to Scotty. "Guess these'll taste mighty good. Got a littlefresh bread and plenty of butter to go with 'em."

  Rick pointed to a large barnlike structure on the biggest pier infront of the town. "What's that?"

  "Fish market. That's where most of the trawlers load and unload. It'squiet now, because the fleet is out, but after dark when they come in,and early in the morning before they leave--that's the busiest placein these parts. I'll take you down there one of these times. Might bewe'll find a couple of answers there."

  He pointed to an old windmill on the shore just below the town. "Steerfor that."

  "Do you live there?" Scotty asked.

  "I live in a shack behind it. But there's a place to tie up. You'llsee it in a minute."

  As the captain had said, there was a small dock in front of thewindmill. Rick headed the launch for it and in a short time they weretied up. Behind the mill, which was an old ruin that had been used ahalf century before for grinding meal, was the road leading south fromSeaford. Across the road was a weather-beaten fisherman's shack.

  Cap'n Mike pushed the door open. "It ain't no palace," he said, "butit's home and I'm proud to welcome you. Come on in."

  Inside, Rick stared around him with appreciative surprise. The littleshanty was as neat and efficient as a ship's cabin. On one side was atiny galley with everything neatly stowed. On the other was a built-inbunk. The walls had been papered with old charts, and he saw thatmost of them were of the New York-New Jersey area. A ship's lantern,wired for electricity, hung so low that it almost brushed Scotty'shead. Ship models lined the mantel.

  Cap'n Mike was already at work in the galley. With no waste motion heproduced a coffeepot, filled it with water, dumped in a handful ofcoffee and put it on the stove. He whisked a match across the seat ofhis pants and lit the kerosene. Then he produced a paper bag, shook inflour, salt and pepper, dumped in the fish and closed the bag, shakingit violently a few times with one hand while he produced a frying panwith the other. In a moment the pan was full of frying fish. Abreadbox yielded a loaf of homemade bread.

  Before Rick and Scotty quite realized that lunch was ready, he hadthem seated at a table that folded down from the wall, with a smokingplatter of fillets in front of them.

  "Eat," he commanded.

  Rick was no fish fancier, but he had to admit that this was delicious.And the coffee, in spite of the apparent carelessness with which ithad been made, was the best ever.

  When the last drop had been consumed, Cap'n Mike pushed back hischair. "Let's get down to brass tacks," he said. "Do you go along withme or not?"

  Rick dropped into the idiom of the sea. "I like to know the coursebefore I haul anchor."

  Cap'n Mike chuckled. "Didn't expect caution or wisdom from you."

  Scotty grinned. "Don't worry. He's neither cautious nor wise. He can'twait to get started and neither can I. But Rick's right. We have toknow the whole story."

  "Right. Well, there isn't much. Something's been going on in Seaford.Don't ask me what, because I don't know. I think Tom Tyler does, and Ithink his finding out is what led to the wreck of the _Sea Belle_." Heheld up his hand as Rick's lips framed a question. "You're going toask me how I know that. Well, I don't know it. I just suspect it. Iwas a mite too positive when I said I knew. All I know is Tom Tylertold me one day that he had an idea that something strange was goingon at the Creek House, and that he intended to find out what it was.Now! He must have had a good idea that whatever was going on wascrooked, because Tom isn't the kind of man to pry into folks' businesswithout a good purpose."

  "Do you think he found out?" Rick asked.

  "I do. I think he found out four nights ago. I was sitting in my doryjigging for eels a little distance down from the Creek House fenceright at the mouth of Salt Creek. I saw Tom. He didn't know I saw him.He came around the corner of the fence and for a minute he wassilhouetted against a light. I didn't see his face, but I'm sure.Known him since he was a shaver. Next morning I bumped into him at thepier, getting ready to go out on the _Sea Belle_. He said to see himat his house that night, because he had something to talk to me about.Well, I saw him that night, but not at his house. He was sitting at acorner table in Sam's Lobster House, and can you g
uess who was withhim?"

  "Red Kelso?"

  Cap'n Mike nodded at Rick. "It was Kelso. He was doing the talking,too, and from the expression on Tom's face, he wasn't saying anythingTom liked a whole lot. After a while he left, and I went over to Tom.I asked casual-like what it was he wanted to talk with me about and hefroze up like a clam. He was scared, at first. Then he seemed to getsort of mad, too, because he said, 'I'm going to call his bluff. Waitand see.'"

  "Meaning Kelso," Scotty said.

  "I reckon, but Tom wouldn't talk. He said it was better that I didn'tknow what he was talking about. He got up and left and I didn't seehim again until last night at City Hall after he wrecked the _SeaBelle_."

  Rick thought it over. The logical deduction was that Tom Tyler hadsomehow gotten suspicious of the Kelsos and what they were doing atCreek House and had gone spying. Kelso had found out Tyler had spiedon him and had warned him, although Rick couldn't imagine what club hehad held over Tyler's head. Tyler had ignored the warning and somehowKelso had contrived to wreck the trawler. But how?

  "Was the regular crew aboard the _Sea Belle_?" he asked.

  "Yes. Just the regulars. All good men who've sailed with Tom Tyler formore'n ten years."

  "You said Mrs. Tyler was afraid, too," Scotty remembered.

  Cap'n Mike shrugged. "Probably Tom talked the whole thing over withher."

  There had been an air of tension at the wreck last night, Rickthought. Maybe other fishermen were in it, too. He put the question toCap'n Mike.

  "I don't think so," the old man said. "The whole town knowssomething's up. They know Tom Tyler doesn't wince at shadows. If he'safraid, and they know he is, he's got reasons. That makes 'em alluneasy. But there is one gang that I'm sure is mixed up in this, andthat's the bunch on the _Albatross_. She's a fishing craft just likeTom's, only her skipper isn't much like Tom. Name's Brad Marbek."

  Rick stretched his legs. "Why do you think he and his crew are mixedup in it?"

  "Eel fishing is a good business for them as wants information," Cap'nMike said.

  Rick hid a smile. The old seaman was bursting with curiosity about theCreek House and its new inhabitants. He had a picture of him sittingpatiently at the mouth of Salt Creek, ostensibly fishing but actuallywatching to see what he could find out.

  "I've seen the _Albatross_ tied up at Salt Creek pier three times,"the captain went on. "Now! Why would a trawler, loaded to the gunwaleswith menhaden, stop at the hotel before coming in to the fish wharvesto unload?"

  "Not for social purposes, that's certain," Rick said.

  "Find out why and we're a lot closer to the solution," Cap'n Mikestated.

  Rick had the germ of an idea. "How far out do the trawlers go?"

  "Few miles. Fishing grounds start a couple of miles out. Why?"

  "Just an idea."

  Scotty's eyes met Rick's. "Thinking about going to take a look?"

  "Could be. What time do they leave here, and what time do they getback?"

  "They leave about four in the morning at this time of year. Mostlythey don't get back until around nine. They like to get to the groundsby daylight and fish until dark. If they get a full load before dark,of course they come in earlier."

  Rick grinned at Scotty. "Ever wanted to be a reporter?"

  "Nope. My spelling isn't that good."

  "Well, you're going to be one. Let's get home. I want to make a callto the Whiteside _Morning Record_."

  Cap'n Mike's eyes brightened. "So you'll work along with me, hey? Knewyou would. What happens now?"

  "First thing is to interview Captain Tyler and his crew," Rick said.

  Cap'n Mike shook his head. "You'd be wasting time. I've already tried.Tom's not saying a word, even to his old friends, and the crew hasorders from him not to talk. They're loyal. You'll get nothing out of'em."

  "All right," Rick said, disappointed. If the fishermen wouldn't talkto Cap'n Mike they certainly wouldn't talk to him and Scotty. "Thenwe'll go back to Spindrift and do a couple of chores. We'll come backto Seaford tonight. I'd like to get a look at the _Albatross_, if youcan fix it."

  "Easy." Cap'n Mike rubbed his hands together gleefully. "I'm bettingwe can get Tom Tyler out of this."

  Rick scratched his head thoughtfully. "Don't get your hopes too high,Cap'n Mike. We're only a couple of amateurs, remember."

  "Some amateurs are better than some professionals, no matter what thebusiness. I'm not worried any more."

  Cap'n Mike walked down to the boat landing in front of the oldwindmill with them. "How will you come down tonight?"

  "I'll try to borrow a car," Rick said. "Think Jerry will lend us his,Scotty?"

  "If he isn't using it. If he is, maybe we can borrow Gus's."

  Scotty walked to the stern of the launch and untied the line that heldit to the pier. Rick loosed the bow line, then jumped into the pilot'sseat. As he did so, he sat on a sheet of paper. He had left no paperon the seat. He rescued it and turned it over. There was a message onthe back, printed in pencil in huge block letters. Its content sent asudden shiver through him. He beckoned to Scotty and handed it to him."Looks like someone can read enough to get our home port off the sternof the launch."

  Scotty scanned it rapidly, then whistled softly. For Cap'n Mike'sbenefit, he read it aloud.

  _KEEP OUT OF THIS. KEEP OUT OF SEAFORD AND STAY AWAY FROM SHANNON. STAY AT SPINDRIFT WHERE YOU BELONG. YOU'LL GET HURT IF YOU DON'T._

  Scotty's face took on an injured expression. "To read that," hecomplained, "you'd think we weren't wanted here!"