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THE FLYING STINGAREE
BY JOHN BLAINE
A RICK BRANT SCIENCE-ADVENTURE STORY
GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERSNEW YORK, N. Y.
BY GROSSET & DUNLAP, INC., 1963
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
_Printed in the United States of America_
[Transcriber's note: Extensive research found no evidencethat the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
To my sons, Chris and Derek, who have watched the stingarees from the sun deck of the cruising houseboat Spindrift
THE FLYING STINGAREE
What's shaped like a sting ray and flies over Chesapeake Bay? This isthe eerie riddle which confronts Rick Brant and his friend Don Scottwhen, seeking shelter from a storm, they anchor the houseboat_Spindrift_ in a lonely cove along the Maryland shore and spot theflying stingaree.
The "thing," they learn, is not the only one of its kind--one isactually suspected of having kidnaped a man!
The residents of the Eastern Shore of Maryland believe the strangeobjects are flying saucers, but, weary of ridicule, have ceasedreporting the sightings.
Rick and Scotty, their scientific curiosity aroused, begin acomprehensive investigation, encouraged by their friend Steve Ames, ayoung government intelligence agent, whose summer cottage is near thecove.
As the clues mount up, the trail leads to Calvert's Favor, a historicplantation house--and to the very bottom of Chesapeake Bay. How Rick andScotty, at the risk of their lives, ground the eerie menace forevermakes a tale of high-voltage suspense.
_Little Choptank River_]
Contents
I CHESAPEAKE BAY
II THE FLYING STINGAREE
III ORVIL HARRIS, CRABBER
IV STEVE'S PLACE
V THE FACE IS FAMILIAR
VI THE SAUCER SIGHTERS
VII SIGHTING DATA
VIII CALVERT'S FAVOR
IX THE DUCK BLIND
X KEN HOLT COMES THROUGH
XI ON THE BOTTOM
XII NIGHT RECOVERY
XIII THE NIGHT WATCHERS
XIV DAYBREAK
XV THE EMPTY BOAT
XVI STEVE WAITS IT OUT
XVII CROWD AT MARTINS CREEK
XVIII THE STINGAREE'S TAIL
XIX LUCKY LEFTY
XX HUNT THE WIDE WATERS
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Little Choptank River
Scotty fitted the camera to the telescope
Now to find out what he had
The flying stingaree lifted him
CHAPTER I
Chesapeake Bay
The stingaree swam slowly through the warm waters of Chesapeake Bay.Geography meant nothing to the ray, whose sole interest in life wasfood, but his position--had he known it--was in the channel that runsbetween Poplar Island and the town of Wittman on the Eastern Shore ofMaryland. The ray was also directly in the path of an odd-lookingcruising houseboat, the _Spindrift_, that had just rounded the northpoint of Poplar Island and entered the channel.
The sting ray's color was an olive brown, so dark in tone that he lookedlike wet black leather. He was roughly diamond-shaped, like a kite, withrounded sides. He had a long, slim tail that carried vicious barbs alongthe base of its upper side. It was from the barbs, which served asdefensive weapons, that the name sting ray, or stingaree, derived. Theray was harmless to men--unless one chanced to step on him as he layresting on the bottom ooze. At such rare times, his tail would lash up,inflicting a serious and painful wound.
A tiny crab, hatched only a week before, swam upward toward the gleamingsurface, his churning legs making a slight disturbance. The ray sensedthe small vibrations and instantly changed course, speeding through thewater like a fantastic spaceship of the future. Intent on the crab, theray ignored the stronger vibrations caused by a pair of outboard motorsand a long, flat-bottomed hull. Not until the crab was within reach didthe ray sense imminent danger. With a single flashing movement, hesnatched the crab and flung himself upward through the shining surfaceand into the air.
Rick Brant, at the helm of the cruising houseboat, saw the ray breakwater and he let out a yell. "Scotty! Look!"
Don Scott, asleep at full length on the houseboat's sun deck, which wasalso its cabin top, awoke in time to see the dark shape reenter the calmwater. "Stingaree!" he exclaimed.
Rick had never seen an area more teeming with life than Chesapeake Bay,unless it was the jungles of the South Pacific. Books, guides to easternland and water birds, regional fish and reptiles, rested on the cabintop before him, along with a pair of binoculars. He had used them allrepeatedly, identifying eagles, wild swans, ospreys, wild duck andgeese, terrapin, snapping turtles and water snakes, as well as a hordeof lesser creatures. Trailing lines over the houseboat stern hadcaptured striped sea bass, called "rockfish" locally, a species ofdrumfish called "spot" because of a black spot on the gills, pinkcroakers that the Marylanders called "hardheads," and the blue crabs forwhich the bay is famous. He had seen clam dredges bringing up bushels ofsoft-shelled, long-necked clams that the dredgers called "manos," and hehad seen the famous Maryland "bugeyes" and "skip-jacks"--sailing craftused for dredging oysters. The boats were not operated during the oysterbreeding season from the end of March until September.
Rick's interest in the life of the great bay was to be expected. As sonof the director of the world-famous Spindrift Scientific Foundation,located on Spindrift Island off the coast of New Jersey, he had beenbrought up among scientists. The habit of observation had developedalong with his natural--and insatiable--curiosity.
The tall, slim, brown-haired, brown-eyed boy was completely happy. Heenjoyed casual living, especially on the water, and life on the_Spindrift_ couldn't have been more casual. He was dressed in a tatteredpair of shorts and a wristwatch. Once, in the cool of the evening, hehad slipped on a sweat shirt. Otherwise, the shorts had been his soleattire while on board since leaving his home island a few days before.
Scotty, a husky, dark-haired boy clad only in red swimming trunks, camedown the ladder from the cabin top and stood beside Rick in the cockpit."Now that you woke me up to look at a fish, suppose you tell me where weare? Last thing I remember, we were passing under the Bay Bridge offAnnapolis."
"That's Bloody Point Lighthouse behind us," Rick said. "Poplar Island ison the starboard and the Eastern Shore to port. That black thingsticking up ahead of us is a light buoy. When we reach it, we should beable to see the range markers into Knapps Narrows."
Scotty checked the chart on the table hinged to the bulkhead formed bythe rear cabin wall. "What time is it?"
Rick glanced at his watch. "Five after six. Time for chow. Want torustle up something? Or shall we eat at Knapps Narrows? The cruisingguide says there's a restaurant there."
"Let's eat out," Scotty replied promptly. "I'm sick of my cooking--andyours. I'd like some Maryland crab cakes like those we had in ChesapeakeCity."
Rick remembered with pleasure. "Suits me."
"Think we'll get to Steve's tonight?" Scotty asked.
"I doubt it. We probably could reach the mouth of the river about dark,but then we'd have to navigate up the river and into a creek beforereaching Steve's. I don't want to tackle these Chesapeake backwaters atnight."
The destination of the hou
seboat was the summer cottage of Rick's oldfriend, Steve Ames, who was also a chief agent of JANIG, the top-secretFederal security organization. The boys, and the Spindrift scientists,had worked on several cases for JANIG, starting with the adventure of_The Whispering Box Mystery_. Steve was responsible for Rick's ownershipof the houseboat, which had been named for Rick's home island on thegrounds that it was now his "home away from home."
Rick's first glimpse of the houseboat had been from the air. At therequest of Steve Ames, he, Scotty, his sister Barby, and Jan Miller,daughter of one of the Spindrift physicists, had been searching thecoast of New Jersey for signs of strangers in the area. Barby hadspotted the houseboat, which at that time was painted a bright orange.Later, the houseboat had played a major role in the adventure of _TheElectronic Mind Reader_, and Rick had fought for his life and the safetyof the two girls in the very cabin behind which he now stood. Thehouseboat had been impounded by Federal authorities, and recently Stevehad mentioned to Rick that it was to be auctioned. After consulting withhis family, Rick had entered a bid for the boat. His bid had been theonly one, and he became owner at what was close to a salvage price.
It was Rick's pride that his chief possessions had been bought with hisown money, and the houseboat was no exception. Like his first plane, theCub, he expected the houseboat to pay its own way. Rick had recoveredhis investment in the Cub by using it to operate Spindrift Island'sferry service to the mainland. Rick flew the scientists to NewarkAirport when they had to catch planes, or he flew to Whiteside forgroceries, or into New York to pick up parts and supplies. The houseboatcould not be used in the same way, but he was sure he could get itsprice back by renting it to summer visitors to the New Jersey area. Hehad repainted it in two shades of green with a white top, and had made afew other improvements.
Before renting the boat, however, he intended to have an extendedhouseboat vacation. He and Scotty had left Spindrift Island, headedsouth into Manasquan Inlet, and then sailed into the inland waterway. Byeasy stages--the houseboat could make only ten miles an hour--they hadmoved down the waterway into Delaware Bay, up the Delaware River,through the Chesapeake and Delaware Canal, and into Chesapeake Bay. Now,some twenty miles south of Annapolis, the boys were nearing Steve'ssummer cottage.
Rick's parents, with Barby and Jan, were now on their way to WallopsIsland rocket range operated by the National Aeronautics and SpaceAdministration. Hartson Brant had business there in connection withinstruments the Spindrift group of scientists had designed for measuringsolar X rays. The instruments would be launched in rockets. WallopsIsland was near Chincoteague, Virginia, just across theMaryland-Virginia border on the long peninsula called "The EasternShore" that runs between Chesapeake Bay and the Atlantic Ocean. By car,Wallops was less than two hours from Steve's summer cottage.
As soon as his business was concluded, Hartson Brant planned to drive toSteve's, where the Brants and the two girls would join Rick and Scottyfor a vacation on the houseboat. There was plenty of room. The_Spindrift_ was thirty feet long and ten feet wide, and had two cabins.Four could sleep in the forward cabin, and two amidships where thegalley, dinette, and bath were located. Steve had agreed to drive theBrant car to Spindrift on his next trip to New York. The houseboat, withthe full clan aboard, would travel leisurely back to the home island.
Rick was delighted with the arrangements. The Brants--and that includedScotty, who had become one of them after his discharge from the UnitedStates Marine Corps--were a close-knit family whose members enjoyeddoing things together. Rick considered Jan Miller, Barby's dearestfriend, a welcome addition to the party.
"Range light ahead," Scotty said.
Rick nodded. The light was set atop a black piling. The color meant hewould have to pass it to port, then pick up the red beacon at theentrance to the Narrows, passing the red beacon to starboard. This wasin accordance with the old sailors' rule: _red right returning_, whichmeans keep red markers and buoys on the starboard, or right, whenreturning from seaward. It was fun navigating in strange waters. He hadnever heard of Knapps Narrows a few days before, or of Tilghman Island,where the Narrows were located. Nor had he heard of the Choptank River,which lay just below the island.
The houseboat plowed ahead, its twin outboards purring. Its bow, roundedlike the front of a toboggan, slapped into a slight swell. Rick passedthe range light and headed for the red tower that marked the opening ofthe Narrows. In a few moments they were in the Narrows, passing lines ofdocked crab, oyster, and clam boats. There was a bridge ahead, with agasoline dock in its shadow. Rick gauged wind and current and decidedhow he would maneuver into place. The current was heavy in the channel,running in the direction in which he was headed.
"I'll nose in, and you jump off with a bowline," he directed Scotty."We'll let the stern swing around with the current. That will leave usfacing the way we came, so we won't have to turn when we leave."
In a short time the maneuver was completed. Rick edged the rounded noseof the houseboat against the seawall as Scotty stepped ashore carryingthe bowline. He snubbed it tightly around a piling and held fast whilethe ungainly boat swung with the current. Rick stepped to the seawallwith the stern line as the craft swung completely around, and the boysmade the boat fast.
"Now," Scotty said, "let's gas up and eat."
After filling the gas tanks, loading the icebox with fresh ice, andtopping off the water tank, the boys slipped into shirts, slacks, andshoes, then headed for the restaurant that adjoined the dock. Overdelicious, spicy Maryland crab cakes and coffee, they talked with theproprietor, a friendly, heavy-set Eastern Shore man who spoke with thetypical slurred accents of the region.
"Quite a boat you got there," the man said.
Rick grinned. "It does look sort of odd, but it's comfortable."
"Expect so. Thought it was a seagoin' flyin' saucer when I saw it comin'through the Narrows."
Scotty munched crab cake appreciatively. "Seen many flying saucersaround here?" he asked whimsically.
"A few."
The boys stared.
The man smiled at the reaction. "Didn't expect that? It's true. We seeone now and again."
"Really?" Rick asked.
"Sure as geese fly. Don't know that they're really flyin' saucers likewe read about in the Washington and Baltimore papers--we get both--butthey're somethin' strange. Not natural, anyway."
The boys looked at each other. There was no doubt that the proprietorbelieved what he was saying. He was as casual as though reporting acatch of fish.
"Seen any recently?" Scotty inquired.
"Two nights ago. Always see 'em about dusk. Real plain, against the sky.Sun hits 'em when they get high enough. They shine, sometimes silver,sometimes red."
"Funny we haven't seen anything about it in the papers," Rick commented.
"Oh, I don't know. Used to be we'd report 'em, and the papers carried afew lines. But the way the stories got written, you'd think us EasternShore folks were short a few marbles. We got tired of being laughed at,so no one says much about the saucers any more."
"But lots of people see them?" Scotty asked.
"Sure. Anyone that happens to be outdoors."
"Ever report these sightings to the authorities?" Rick wanted to know.
"Did at first. Called the State Police myself. The Coast Guard boys arelocated right here at the Narrows, and they reported to Baltimore.Nothin' happened. The authorities aren't sold on flyin' saucers, youmight say. I guess the last report was when Link Harris was kidnaped byone."
Rick's scalp prickled. "You honestly mean someone was kidnaped by aflying saucer?"
"It's the only thing we can think of. Link went out to set his crablines, like always, and never came home. We set out to find him, and wefound his boat all right, but no Link. One of the saucers was seen byseveral folks, and they said later it seemed right over where he wasworkin' at about the time he was there."
The boys digested this startling information. "Maybe he was drowned,"Rick ventured.
"In
a creek? Not likely! Link's been crabbin' for thirty years in thesewaters. Water was smooth. Not a ripple, even out on the bay. Even if hefell over, he could almost walk ashore. Tide was out and he was settin'lines in about six feet, and he's better than two yards high. Shorewasn't more than twenty yards away."
"Maybe he hit his head when he fell," Scotty suggested.
"Possible, but even if he drowned we'd have found his body."
Rick shook his head. "It's hard to believe a man could be kidnaped by aflying saucer. Couldn't he have gone ashore and walked out of the area?Maybe he _wanted_ to disappear."
"You're mighty hard to convince," the proprietor said good-humoredly. Itwas clear he didn't particularly care whether they were convinced ornot. He was making conversation just to be sociable. "Where Link wassettin' lines is just a little creek with marsh all around. No man withany sense would get out of a boat and go ashore into marshland, nowwould he? Besides, there's no reason Link would want to disappear. Helived all alone and did about what he pleased. Crabs netted him enoughmoney for his needs."
"How long ago did this happen?" Rick asked.
"Two, three weeks. Not long."
"Where?" Scotty queried.
"Few miles south. In a creek off the Little Choptank."
"That's where we're going!" Rick exclaimed.
"So? Well, watch for Swamp Creek. It's on the chart. That's where theygot Link. Where you headed?"
"A place called Martins Creek," Rick replied.
"Uh-huh. Well, Martins is on the south shore, and Swamp Creek is on thenorth, about three miles closer to the river mouth. You'll pass it onthe way. Better keep an eye open. That boat of yours might attractflyin' saucers the way a decoy attracts ducks."
Rick saw the twinkle in the proprietor's eye. "We'll set a bear trap onthe upper deck," he said. "Any flying saucer tries to pick us up, thepilot will catch one of his six legs in it."
"Likely," the man agreed. "You catch one, bring it to the Narrows, willyou? Always wanted to see one at close range."
"We'll do that," Rick agreed, and no premonition or hunch warned him howclose he and Scotty would come to carrying out the promise.
The Flying Stingaree: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story Page 1
