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

  CHAPTER VII

  Search for a Clue

  As Rick fell to the floor, he twisted sideways and managed to bring upone arm to protect his head. In an instant he was buried in a great,heavy, slippery mass of fish. His nostrils filled with the oilystench, and when he opened his mouth to breathe, he closed it again ona fish tail. He spat it out, and then, furious, he struggled againstthe slimy weight, got his hands and feet under him and heaved. Fishcascaded from his arched back and he broke clear just as Scottyreached for him.

  "You all right?" Scotty gasped.

  "Yes."

  Cap'n Mike, hurled clear by Scotty's rush, was getting to his feet.

  Scotty departed on a dead run.

  Rick collected his thoughts and yelled, "Hey! Wait! Where're yougoing?"

  "After Kelso," Scotty called back over his shoulder.

  Rick didn't know what had happened, but evidently Scotty did and wasdoing something about it. He ran after his friend, brushing off dirtfrom his clothes as he did so. He heard Cap'n Mike call, "Wait forme!" but he didn't pause.

  At the entrance to the pier, Rick caught up with Scotty who waslooking up and down the street, his face flushed with anger.

  "He's gone. No use looking for him because he could hide anywherearound here. But we'll catch up with him one of these days, and whenwe do ..."

  "What's it all about?" Rick demanded.

  "Carrots tripped that scoop on us. I don't know how, but I know he didit."

  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 dumpedwithout having all that weight smash against the end of the track andbreak things. Young Kelso must have punched the trip."

  "He sure did." Rick sniffed angrily. "And I smell like ten days in abait 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 theinvestigation for the night, Cap'n."

  Cap'n Mike nodded. "I want to be around when you boys meet up withyoung Kelso. That was as fishy a trick as I ever saw pulled."

  Rick looked at the old sea captain suspiciously. Cap'n Mike was havinga 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'd be smelling like a week-old herring yourself."

  "I know," Cap'n Mike said. "Thanks." He threw back his head androared.

  Rick laughed, too, but when Cap'n Mike doubled up with mirth, he beganto grow a little irritated. "It isn't that funny," he said, a littletartly.

  Scotty chuckled. "Maybe this is what amuses him." He reached over andplucked a small menhaden from the breast pocket of Rick's jacket.

  "Dangdest place to carry fresh fish I ever saw," Cap'n Mike said, andwent 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 newspaperson the seat to protect the car, but even so, the stench of oily fishmade Rick feel a little queasy.

  "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 ofus can cross over, get clean clothes for both of us and some soap andtowels. 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 wecan just push them through."

  Scotty chuckled. "You won't get any thanks for that. The whole drycleaning 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 somethingelse. Until now, this case was just sort of interesting for itself,but now I have a personal interest. I think the Kelsos are at thebottom of it."

  "And we owe them a debt," Scotty finished. "Carrots, anyway. What doyou suppose he dumped the scoop on us for?"

  Rick shrugged. "Sheer poison meanness. And weren't we warned not to goto Seaford?"

  An hour later, when they had cleaned up, the boys returned the car toGus, apologized for the faint but definite aroma of dead menhaden, andwalked to the _Morning Record_ office.

  Duke Barrows, a veteran newspaperman but young in years, greeted themcordially. "Hello, Rick, Scotty. Here are those cards you asked for."He swiveled his chair around and regarded them with interested eyes."Getting anywhere on that Seaford yarn?"

  "We're still feeling around," Rick replied. "But there's a good storyin it if we can find the lead."

  "Keep working then," Duke said. "I'll pay you space rates if it hitspage one."

  "How much is that?" Scotty wanted to know.

  "Twenty-five cents a column inch on this sheet. You didn't expect toget 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 pagewith 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 onyour mind?"

  "Just an idea. Do you keep a file of New 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 helpif I knew what the idea was."

  Rick explained briefly. He wanted to check the shipping sections forthe dates when the _Albatross_ had been seen at Creek House. Heparticularly wanted to know what ships had arrived at New York at noonor before on those dates. He was interested in ships arriving fromsouthern ports in the Caribbean, or from southern Europe. That, hefigured, would give them only the ships that might have been standingoff Seaford in the early hours before dawn on the critical dates. Hehad a vague idea that he might find some sort of similarity in theships that had been off Seaford on the critical dates. The registrymight be the same, or the ownership.

  But when the compilation was complete, there were no similarities atall. In fact, so far as he could determine, no ship had been offSeaford during the time he had chosen as having the bestpossibilities.

  As they walked toward the Whiteside boat landing after saying goodnight to Duke and Jerry, Rick rapidly reviewed all they knew about thewreck of Tom Tyler's trawler and the events at Seaford.

  "I sure thought I had the connecting link," he said. "I still thinkso, even if there wasn't any evidence in the papers. It's the onlyanswer that makes any sense."

  Scotty nodded. "Keep talking."

  "Okay. The Kelsos suddenly arrive at Seaford and move into CreekHouse. Then the _Albatross_ starts making visits at a time when nofisherman in his right mind would pay calls. So Brad Marbek must begoing to Creek House on his way back from the fishing grounds for agood business reason. Right?"

  "It figures. Go ahead."

  "Tom Tyler spied on Creek House, and he found out something. Red Kelsowarned him, and Tyler refused to take the warning. Result: his shipwas 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'syour guess on that?"

  Scotty kicked a pebble out of the path. "Kelso again. When Tylerdidn't take the first warning, his trawler was wrecked and he was toldthat next time something would happen to his family. That's the onlythreat they could make stick with a man like Tyler. If they threatenedhim, he'd laugh at them. But if they threatened his wife and littlegirl ..."

  "That's the way I see it, too. Now, what kind of busines
s requires aboat, a house on a secluded part of the beach, and a guard with arifle?"

  "Smuggling," Scotty said flatly.

  Smuggling. It was the answer that fitted. Rick didn't know yet whatkind of smuggling, but he intended to find out. "If you were theKelsos, and if you were bringing contraband into Creek House, howwould you get it out of Seaford?" he asked.

  Scotty thought it over. "Not trucks," he said. "Cap'n Mike said hehadn't seen any trucks calling at Creek House. How about taking itsomewhere in a small boat?"

  In his mind's eye Rick saw the countryside surrounding Creek House ashe 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 ofsmall boat, they could take it right up Salt Creek to the bridge. Thenall they would need would be a truck waiting there. And if they did itlate at night, there wouldn't be any traffic to worry about."

  "That must be it!" Scotty exclaimed. Then he sobered. "But how are wegoing to find out if that's the answer?"

  There was only one way. "I guess we're just going to have to see forourselves," Rick said. As they passed the dry cleaning establishment,he took the bundle of newspaper-wrapped clothes he had been carryingand dropped them into the night-service opening. A whiff of departedmenhaden smote his nose forcefully and he added grimly, "Believe me,it'll be a pleasure!"