by John Blaine
“Can individual frames of the film be blown up and made into decent pictures?”
Rick nodded. “The result looks a little grainy, but it can be done.”
“All right.Give me exclusive rights to use the pictures and the paper will pay for them. Let me have the film and the address of the lab. I’ll send Jerry toNew York with them first thing this morning. Then we can have them back tomorrow. Is that okay with you?”
“Swell.”
“Good. Now let’s hop into my car and take a run over to the State Police Barracks. We’ll get Captain Douglas out of bed and you can tell him your story. He’ll know how to carry the ball from there.”
Scotty got the binoculars from the Cub. He and Rick staked the plane down, then hurried to the editor’s car.
The police barracks were just outside of town on theNewark turnpike. Captain Douglas was in bed, but he got up quickly enough when the sergeant on duty gave him the names of the three visitors. Rick described their night’s work while the officer finished dressing.When he had finished, Captain Douglas, a strapping man who had been a Marine officer before retiring and joining the state force, nodded briskly.
“Good work, Rick. I want to see that film the minute you know whether your camera worked well enough for evidence. Now, m’lads , I’ve got to get to work. Instead of barging into Creek House with sirens wailing, I just think I’ll put a pair of my boys in civilian clothes on the job, one on the water front and the other at the bridge. I have a pair of squad cars without insignia or state license plates that will be useful, and both of them are radio-equipped. The minute this trawler shows up, we’ll know about it and we’ll move in on them. I’ll ask for a search warrant soon as I can get someone on the phone at the main office. How does that strike you?”
“It sounds all right,” Rick said. “But where do we come in?”
“You don’t,” Captain Douglas retorted. “You go home and go to bed. The only thing you could do would be to hang around here all day waiting, because we couldn’t let you go toSeaford and perhaps tip off the gang by accident. They must know it was your plane, and they’re crazy if they don’t assume you’ll call the police. If no police show up and you don’t either, it may lull their suspicions somewhat. Tell you what. Ill phone Duke, or have the desk man do it, the minute we hear anything and he can phone you.”
And with that, the two boys had to be content. Rick ran the rest of the film through his camera, unloaded it, and handed the can of film to Duke Barrows. The editor drove them to the boat landing. “With any luck,” he said as they got from the car, “we may let folks read all about it within a couple of days. See you later, fellows.”
Although it was scarcely daylight, Mr. and Mrs. Brant were already up and having an early breakfast.
Rick knew it was just that they had worried about Scotty and him, and he felt a little thrill of pride in them. Even though they had worried, they had confidence in him and so they had let him go. He was glad that he and Scotty always had played square with them, sharing their adventures and discussing their problems.
Over breakfast, the boys related the story of their night flight while the Brants listened with interest. “It wasn’t bad at all,” Rick finished. “I did have one tough moment when we landed the first time, because I Page 87
was a little too tense. But the second time was smooth as anything.”
“I’m glad you went right to Ed Douglas,” Hartson Brant said approvingly. “These kinds of jobs belong to the law, Rick. An amateur can go only so far, and then if he’s wise, he calls the police.”
They had barely finished breakfast when the phone rang. It was Cap’n Mike. He said that he had been standing on first one leg then the other ever since he first phoned, and would they please tell him what had happened.
Scotty obliged with a dramatic report and Cap’n Mike exclaimed his delight so loudly that Rick could hear him half the room away. Scotty hung up and grinned. “He’s going to sort of wander over to that part of town himself, just to keep track of what’s going on.”
“Hope he doesn’t attract any attention,” Rick said.
“He’s too smart for that. Well, what now? To bed to catch up on that sleep we missed?”
Rick couldn’t have slept a wink, and he said as much. He was too wound up. “Let’s go back to Whiteside,” he suggested. “It’sfull daylight now and one of us might as well bring the Cub back.”
“I’ll do it,” Scotty offered. “You’ve been getting all the practice, and you’re the one who doesn’t need it.”
On the way over by boat, Rick reviewed again the events of the night. “Funny that the freighter was heading south,” he said. In the cold light of day, his speculation that there might be a whole smuggling ring up and down the coast didn’t look too sensible. “Of course she may have reached there before Brad showed up and circled while she was waiting. We didn’t hang around to see if she headed north again after they finished unloading.”
“That could be it,” Scotty nodded. “Probably is. Listen, what happens to the freighter if the police catch Brad with the goods?”
“Can’t say.Ordinarily, I’d think the police would call for the Coast Guard to go intercept them. But we’re not sure of the identity of the ship.”
“We missed there,” Scotty said. “Has it occurred to you that we’re going to be the star witnesses if this comes to trial?”
Rick shook his head. “Not necessarily. If the State Police catch Brad and the Kelsos with the goods, they won’t need us for anything. But if they identify the ship that supplied them, they may need us there.”
“Unless it’s a foreign ship.”
“What do you mean?”
“They were outside the twelve-mile limit,” Scotty pointed out. “That’s the high seas. I’m not up on my international law, but I doubt if theUnited States could do much about something done by a foreign ship on the high seas.”
“Never thought of that,” Rick admitted.
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He dropped Scotty at the landing, then turned the launch back to Spindrift. Once in his own room, however, he was too restless to do anything, even to sleep. He walked out to the lab building and sat down on the steps, looking out to sea. It was a beautiful morning. Soon as Scotty got back he would suggest a swim.
In a short time he looked up to see Scotty approaching from Whiteside. He watched critically as Scotty swung wide and banked into the approach over the lab building, then settled smoothly to the grass. He nodded approval. Scotty was a natural flier. He excelled at anything requiring a high degree of co-ordination between body and mind.
Rick walked to meet him. “What kept you?”
Scotty climbed out and they staked the plane down. “Jerry picked me up on the way to the airport. We talked for a while. He had the film and was taking it intoNew York .”
Both of them walked with less spring in their steps than usual. Knowing that nothing was in sight but waiting was a letdown after the activity of the predawn hours. But Captain Douglas had spoken and that was that.
“Wonder if we’ll ever be able to prove that the Kelsos wrecked the Sea Belle?” Rick mused. “Even if the police catch them cold on a smuggling charge that won’t necessarily tie them up with Captain Tyler.”
“That’s right.” Scotty bent and plucked a sprig of mint from the patch next to the house and chewed it absently. “But we’ll be able to show motive and method once they’re in jail andTyler can talk. And with Captain Killian’s evidence, that will clearTyler anyway. Why should we worry whether the Kelsos get caught for that as long as he’s cleared? We’ll have them on the smuggling charge.”
“I guess so.” Rick felt tired.“How about a quick swim? Then we can crawl into bed and take a nap.”
“Good idea. What are we waiting for?”
The water was too good to abandon after a few quick dips, however, and they alternately swam and lazed in the sun until lunchtime. Only after a good lunch of several sandwiches and almost a quart of milk apiece did the
y feel like taking a nap. Then Rick said, “No word. I guess that does it. Either Brad is ignoring our flying over him or he has dumped his cargo. I’d like to know which. Otherwise, he would have put into Creek House long ago.”
“Looks that way.But I’m too drowsy to care. Go on to bed and let me do likewise. We’ll know soon enough what happened.”
Rick undressed, drew his shades and crawled in, luxuriating in the comfort of cool sheets. But it wasn’t easy to drop off to sleep. His active mind persisted in going over and over the events atSeaford like a record stuck in a groove, but after a while he slept.
He didn’t even hear the phone when it rang. Scotty had to wake him. Then, drowsily, he and Scotty went down the hall.
“It’s Mr. Barrows,” Mrs. Brant called from below.
“I’ll take it,” Rick said. He picked up the phone. “This is Rick, Duke.”
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“Bad news,” the editor said. “It’s all over, and nothing came out of it.”
Rick woke up sharply. “What? But, Duke, we saw them load!”
“Tough luck.Brad came in at the usual time andDouglas was waiting for him. They went over that ship from stem to stern and didn’t turn up a single thing.”
Rick realized that it was dark outside. Mother had let them sleep right through dinner.
“But the crates in the marsh,” he exclaimed.“How about those?”
“Gone,” Duke said. “There wasn’t a thing but flattened reeds and muddy water.”
Scotty had been holding his ear close to the phone. “Brad must have jettisoned his cargo,” he said. “We didn’t think he would.”
Duke heard him. “Was that Scotty? Well, Rick, if the pictures prove out, we’ll know he must have thrown the stuff overboard. Captain Douglas has faith in you. He says not to be discouraged.”
“Thanks,” Rick said hollowly.
“Oh, one other item of news.I talked with the agent who rented the Creek House to the Kelsos. They’ve given him notice that they’re moving out next Saturday. What do you think about that?”
Rick’s shoulders slumped. “Unless they try to pull something between now and then, we’re sunk. Duke, do you realize this may have been their last load? We might have scared them off with flying over Brad and then having the police raid them.”
“I’m afraid so, too. But Captain Douglas says they seemed pretty smug. They may try it again. By the way, Jerry says the film will be ready at five tomorrow night. I’ll send him intoNew York early tomorrow and he can do a few errands for me, then pick up the film on his way home.”
“Thanks, Duke,” Rick said. He replaced the receiver and looked at Scotty. “Did you get all that?”
Scotty nodded silently.
Mrs. Brant called from downstairs. “I saved dinner for you, boys. Want to come get it now?”
“Right away,” Rick called. “Thanks, Mom.”
He and Scotty slipped robes over their pajamas and walked slowly down the stairs. Neither of them felt much like eating after the phone call. They had, with undue optimism, written the case off as practically closed. But now everything seemed as far from a solution as ever.
CHAPTER XVIII
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Brendan’s Marsh
Rick stared out the window at the gathering dusk. “I’d like to know what’s taking Jerry so long with those pictures,” he grumbled. “He should have been here an hour ago.”
Scotty had been trying to read a book. He gave it up as a bad job and joined Rick at the window.
“Maybe he stopped for dinner,” he said.
“I’ll put ground glass in his cake next time he comes to dinner if he has,” Rick threatened.
Jerry had phoned before leaving forNew York earlier in the day. After consultation with Duke, they had agreed that Jerry would bring the pictures directly to the island, and that Rick and Scotty would leave the boat at the landing for him to use.
The editor was as anxious as any of them to see the pictures, but, as he pointed out, there was no longer any special haste, and he preferred not to have both himself and Jerry away from the paper at the same time, especially in the very early or very late evening when the wire service newscasts were coming in.
Rick had agreed. He planned to project the film, choose the single frames that would be the most useful, rephotograph them, and make enlargements for Duke and Captain Douglas. The rephotographing was done with a special, inexpensive device that could be purchased at any photo supply store.
Scotty opened the window wider and stuck his head out.“Thought I heard something.”
Rick looked at his watch. It was shortly after eight. “Let’s take the glasses and walk out to the north side,” he said. “It won’t be completely dark until around nine, and we’ll be able to see him coming.”
“Wait a minute.” Scotty held up his hand. “There. I thought I heard something. He’s coming now. I recognize the launch motor.”
Rick started for the door, then he hesitated. “You go meet him. I’ll get the projector set up in the library.”
He ran down the stairs and called, “Mother.Dad. Jerry’s coming with the pictures.” Then he hurried into the library, took his folding screen from the closet and set it up. He got the projector from its case, plugged it in, using his father’s desk as a table, and put on the take-up reel. He finished focusing just as Scotty and Jerry burst into the room. Mr. and Mrs. Brant were right behind them.
“Got a clogged gas line,” Jerry explained breathlessly. “I finally got a man to push me to the nearest gas station. We took the gas line off at the carburetor and blew it out with compressed air. I didn’t dare take time to find out what had clogged it, because I knew you’d lynch me.” “You’re forgiven,” Rick said. He had already taken the film from Jerry and was threading it through the projector gate. He inserted the loose end in the take-up reel and motioned to Scotty. “Here we go.”
Scotty snapped out the light and Rick started the projector. White leader ran through the gate, then suddenly, clear as day, there were two ships below, their center sections brightly illuminated and the rest fading out slightly toward what had been the edges of the infrared beam.
“Excellent, Rick,” Hartson Brant said. “Good work, son,That’s much better than I had hoped.”
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“Same here, Dad,” Rick said, eyes on the screen. The ships appeared to be whirling slowly, the result of his having taken the picture while circling in a tight bank. He could see the men on the decks clearly, and even thought he recognized Brad Marbek. Then, as the angle changed, he saw Marbek clearly, waving his arm.
“What flag is that?” Scotty asked suddenly. “There, on the stern of the freighter.”
The flag was limp because there had been no breeze to speak of, but part of the design was clear. “I have it,” Hartson Brant exclaimed. “That ship is ofCaribbean registry.” He named the country, then said,
“Look for the name of the ship.”
But the angle was wrong for that. The name was not within the camera’s view, on either stern or bow.
The film was running out rapidly now. Rick watched the cargo net swing over, full of wooden cases, and drop on the deck of the freighter. For a moment it didn’t register, then he yelled. “ Heyl Ohmigolly! Did you see that?” He threw the reverse switch and the film ran backward. The net lifted from the deck of the freighterand swung toward the Albatross. Then he ran it forward again and watched the load settle to the freighter’s deck.
Scotty yelled, too. “What a pair of chuckleheads Rick, no wonder we didn’t find anything on the Albatros and neither did Captain Douglas! They’re smuggling stuff out! Not in!”
The Plimsoll mark! The Albatross had been heavily loaded because Brad Marbek had taken on the load at Creek House he would deliver later to the freighter.
That was why no ships had been listed in theNew York paper as being in the right area at the right time.
They had looked for arrival times, not sailing times.
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br /> That was why the cache of cases was no longer in the marsh behind Creek House. These pictures were of those cases being loaded on the freighter!
The picture ran through and white light flashed on the screen. Scotty snapped the lights on.
“We’ve got to get these pictures to Captain Douglas,” Rick exclaimed. “I’ll hurry and rephotograph them right away. It will only take a moment.”
He hastily rewound the film while Scotty ran ahead to the photo lab. Hartson Brant said, “Ed will be glad to get those, Rick. But don’t get your hopes too high. The pictures don’t show any contraband in those cases, and that’s what you’ll need.”
“I know, Dad,” Rick replied. “But at least we know now why we’ve always been wrong. We were backwards!”
He hurriedly excused himself, then he and Jerry hurried after Scotty.
Scotty already had loaded the rephotographing camera with film and screwed a photo flood bulb into a convenient receptacle. It took Rick only ten minutes to select the frames he wanted to rephotograph and finish the operation. Then he gave the rephotographing camera to Scotty who wound the film all the way through and took it out.
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“Let’s develop it,” he said, and reached for the shelf to take down a small developing tank.
“Wait!” An idea struck Rick. “How do we know Brad isn’t going to load again tonight? Remember the Kelsos have only a few more days at Creek House.”
Jerry snapped his fingers. “That’s right! And I’ll bet they’re gloating over hoodwinking the State Police, too. They wouldn’t be afraid to ship out another load, particularly since they know they’re suspected of smuggling stuff in and it might be their last chance.”
“We can’t risk it,” Rick said decisively. “We’ll take this film to Whiteside and have the photographer at the paper develop it.How about that, Jerry?” The reporter nodded agreement and he continued, “While it’s being developed, we can go through the New York papers again and find out if a ship of Caribbean registry is sailing. Aboutmidnight would be right for a sailing time.”
Scotty reached for the light. “We’d better hurry.” He snapped it out and led the way through the door.
