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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/30401-0.txt b/30401-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fd1592b --- /dev/null +++ b/30401-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5450 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30401 *** + + THE FLYING STINGAREE + + BY JOHN BLAINE + + A RICK BRANT SCIENCE-ADVENTURE STORY + + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS +NEW 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 evidence +that 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 is +the eerie riddle which confronts Rick Brant and his friend Don Scott +when, seeking shelter from a storm, they anchor the houseboat +_Spindrift_ in a lonely cove along the Maryland shore and spot the +flying stingaree. + +The "thing," they learn, is not the only one of its kind--one is +actually suspected of having kidnaped a man! + +The residents of the Eastern Shore of Maryland believe the strange +objects are flying saucers, but, weary of ridicule, have ceased +reporting the sightings. + +Rick and Scotty, their scientific curiosity aroused, begin a +comprehensive investigation, encouraged by their friend Steve Ames, a +young government intelligence agent, whose summer cottage is near the +cove. + +As the clues mount up, the trail leads to Calvert's Favor, a historic +plantation house--and to the very bottom of Chesapeake Bay. How Rick and +Scotty, at the risk of their lives, ground the eerie menace forever +makes a tale of high-voltage suspense. + + + + +[Illustration: _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 was +food, but his position--had he known it--was in the channel that runs +between Poplar Island and the town of Wittman on the Eastern Shore of +Maryland. The ray was also directly in the path of an odd-looking +cruising houseboat, the _Spindrift_, that had just rounded the north +point of Poplar Island and entered the channel. + +The sting ray's color was an olive brown, so dark in tone that he looked +like wet black leather. He was roughly diamond-shaped, like a kite, with +rounded sides. He had a long, slim tail that carried vicious barbs along +the base of its upper side. It was from the barbs, which served as +defensive weapons, that the name sting ray, or stingaree, derived. The +ray was harmless to men--unless one chanced to step on him as he lay +resting 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 gleaming +surface, his churning legs making a slight disturbance. The ray sensed +the small vibrations and instantly changed course, speeding through the +water like a fantastic spaceship of the future. Intent on the crab, the +ray ignored the stronger vibrations caused by a pair of outboard motors +and a long, flat-bottomed hull. Not until the crab was within reach did +the ray sense imminent danger. With a single flashing movement, he +snatched the crab and flung himself upward through the shining surface +and into the air. + +Rick Brant, at the helm of the cruising houseboat, saw the ray break +water and he let out a yell. "Scotty! Look!" + +Don Scott, asleep at full length on the houseboat's sun deck, which was +also its cabin top, awoke in time to see the dark shape reenter the calm +water. "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 eastern +land and water birds, regional fish and reptiles, rested on the cabin +top before him, along with a pair of binoculars. He had used them all +repeatedly, identifying eagles, wild swans, ospreys, wild duck and +geese, terrapin, snapping turtles and water snakes, as well as a horde +of lesser creatures. Trailing lines over the houseboat stern had +captured striped sea bass, called "rockfish" locally, a species of +drumfish called "spot" because of a black spot on the gills, pink +croakers that the Marylanders called "hardheads," and the blue crabs for +which the bay is famous. He had seen clam dredges bringing up bushels of +soft-shelled, long-necked clams that the dredgers called "manos," and he +had seen the famous Maryland "bugeyes" and "skip-jacks"--sailing craft +used for dredging oysters. The boats were not operated during the oyster +breeding season from the end of March until September. + +Rick's interest in the life of the great bay was to be expected. As son +of the director of the world-famous Spindrift Scientific Foundation, +located on Spindrift Island off the coast of New Jersey, he had been +brought up among scientists. The habit of observation had developed +along with his natural--and insatiable--curiosity. + +The tall, slim, brown-haired, brown-eyed boy was completely happy. He +enjoyed casual living, especially on the water, and life on the +_Spindrift_ couldn't have been more casual. He was dressed in a tattered +pair of shorts and a wristwatch. Once, in the cool of the evening, he +had slipped on a sweat shirt. Otherwise, the shorts had been his sole +attire while on board since leaving his home island a few days before. + +Scotty, a husky, dark-haired boy clad only in red swimming trunks, came +down 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 we +are? Last thing I remember, we were passing under the Bay Bridge off +Annapolis." + +"That's Bloody Point Lighthouse behind us," Rick said. "Poplar Island is +on the starboard and the Eastern Shore to port. That black thing +sticking up ahead of us is a light buoy. When we reach it, we should be +able to see the range markers into Knapps Narrows." + +Scotty checked the chart on the table hinged to the bulkhead formed by +the rear cabin wall. "What time is it?" + +Rick glanced at his watch. "Five after six. Time for chow. Want to +rustle up something? Or shall we eat at Knapps Narrows? The cruising +guide says there's a restaurant there." + +"Let's eat out," Scotty replied promptly. "I'm sick of my cooking--and +yours. I'd like some Maryland crab cakes like those we had in Chesapeake +City." + +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 before +reaching Steve's. I don't want to tackle these Chesapeake backwaters at +night." + +The destination of the houseboat was the summer cottage of Rick's old +friend, Steve Ames, who was also a chief agent of JANIG, the top-secret +Federal 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 ownership +of the houseboat, which had been named for Rick's home island on the +grounds that it was now his "home away from home." + +Rick's first glimpse of the houseboat had been from the air. At the +request of Steve Ames, he, Scotty, his sister Barby, and Jan Miller, +daughter of one of the Spindrift physicists, had been searching the +coast of New Jersey for signs of strangers in the area. Barby had +spotted the houseboat, which at that time was painted a bright orange. +Later, the houseboat had played a major role in the adventure of _The +Electronic Mind Reader_, and Rick had fought for his life and the safety +of the two girls in the very cabin behind which he now stood. The +houseboat had been impounded by Federal authorities, and recently Steve +had mentioned to Rick that it was to be auctioned. After consulting with +his family, Rick had entered a bid for the boat. His bid had been the +only 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 his +own money, and the houseboat was no exception. Like his first plane, the +Cub, he expected the houseboat to pay its own way. Rick had recovered +his investment in the Cub by using it to operate Spindrift Island's +ferry service to the mainland. Rick flew the scientists to Newark +Airport when they had to catch planes, or he flew to Whiteside for +groceries, or into New York to pick up parts and supplies. The houseboat +could not be used in the same way, but he was sure he could get its +price back by renting it to summer visitors to the New Jersey area. He +had repainted it in two shades of green with a white top, and had made a +few other improvements. + +Before renting the boat, however, he intended to have an extended +houseboat vacation. He and Scotty had left Spindrift Island, headed +south into Manasquan Inlet, and then sailed into the inland waterway. By +easy stages--the houseboat could make only ten miles an hour--they had +moved 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's +summer cottage. + +Rick's parents, with Barby and Jan, were now on their way to Wallops +Island rocket range operated by the National Aeronautics and Space +Administration. Hartson Brant had business there in connection with +instruments the Spindrift group of scientists had designed for measuring +solar X rays. The instruments would be launched in rockets. Wallops +Island was near Chincoteague, Virginia, just across the +Maryland-Virginia border on the long peninsula called "The Eastern +Shore" 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 to +Steve's, where the Brants and the two girls would join Rick and Scotty +for 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 the +galley, dinette, and bath were located. Steve had agreed to drive the +Brant car to Spindrift on his next trip to New York. The houseboat, with +the full clan aboard, would travel leisurely back to the home island. + +Rick was delighted with the arrangements. The Brants--and that included +Scotty, who had become one of them after his discharge from the United +States Marine Corps--were a close-knit family whose members enjoyed +doing things together. Rick considered Jan Miller, Barby's dearest +friend, a welcome addition to the party. + +"Range light ahead," Scotty said. + +Rick nodded. The light was set atop a black piling. The color meant he +would have to pass it to port, then pick up the red beacon at the +entrance to the Narrows, passing the red beacon to starboard. This was +in accordance with the old sailors' rule: _red right returning_, which +means keep red markers and buoys on the starboard, or right, when +returning from seaward. It was fun navigating in strange waters. He had +never 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, rounded +like the front of a toboggan, slapped into a slight swell. Rick passed +the range light and headed for the red tower that marked the opening of +the Narrows. In a few moments they were in the Narrows, passing lines of +docked crab, oyster, and clam boats. There was a bridge ahead, with a +gasoline dock in its shadow. Rick gauged wind and current and decided +how 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 us +facing 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 nose +of the houseboat against the seawall as Scotty stepped ashore carrying +the bowline. He snubbed it tightly around a piling and held fast while +the ungainly boat swung with the current. Rick stepped to the seawall +with the stern line as the craft swung completely around, and the boys +made the boat fast. + +"Now," Scotty said, "let's gas up and eat." + +After filling the gas tanks, loading the icebox with fresh ice, and +topping off the water tank, the boys slipped into shirts, slacks, and +shoes, then headed for the restaurant that adjoined the dock. Over +delicious, spicy Maryland crab cakes and coffee, they talked with the +proprietor, a friendly, heavy-set Eastern Shore man who spoke with the +typical 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 saucers +around here?" he asked whimsically. + +"A few." + +The boys stared. + +The man smiled at the reaction. "Didn't expect that? It's true. We see +one now and again." + +"Really?" Rick asked. + +"Sure as geese fly. Don't know that they're really flyin' saucers like +we read about in the Washington and Baltimore papers--we get both--but +they're somethin' strange. Not natural, anyway." + +The boys looked at each other. There was no doubt that the proprietor +believed what he was saying. He was as casual as though reporting a +catch 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 a +few lines. But the way the stories got written, you'd think us Eastern +Shore 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 are +located right here at the Narrows, and they reported to Baltimore. +Nothin' happened. The authorities aren't sold on flyin' saucers, you +might say. I guess the last report was when Link Harris was kidnaped by +one." + +Rick's scalp prickled. "You honestly mean someone was kidnaped by a +flying saucer?" + +"It's the only thing we can think of. Link went out to set his crab +lines, like always, and never came home. We set out to find him, and we +found his boat all right, but no Link. One of the saucers was seen by +several folks, and they said later it seemed right over where he was +workin' 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 these +waters. Water was smooth. Not a ripple, even out on the bay. Even if he +fell 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. Shore +wasn'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 a +flying 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. It +was clear he didn't particularly care whether they were convinced or +not. He was making conversation just to be sociable. "Where Link was +settin' lines is just a little creek with marsh all around. No man with +any sense would get out of a boat and go ashore into marshland, now +would he? Besides, there's no reason Link would want to disappear. He +lived all alone and did about what he pleased. Crabs netted him enough +money 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 they +got 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 the +north, about three miles closer to the river mouth. You'll pass it on +the way. Better keep an eye open. That boat of yours might attract +flyin' saucers the way a decoy attracts ducks." + +Rick saw the twinkle in the proprietor's eye. "We'll set a bear trap on +the upper deck," he said. "Any flying saucer tries to pick us up, the +pilot will catch one of his six legs in it." + +"Likely," the man agreed. "You catch one, bring it to the Narrows, will +you? Always wanted to see one at close range." + +"We'll do that," Rick agreed, and no premonition or hunch warned him how +close he and Scotty would come to carrying out the promise. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +The Flying Stingaree + + +Someone once said that the Chesapeake Bay "looks like the deck plan of +an octopus," but the mental image created by the phrase tells but a +fraction of the story. Rivers and creeks empty into the bay by the +dozens, and every river, and most of the creeks, have tributaries. Even +some of the tributaries have tributaries. The result is thousands of +miles of navigable waters, forming a maze of waterways that it would +take most of a lifetime of weekend cruising to explore. + +The cruising houseboat _Spindrift_ moved steadily across the mouth of +one of the principal waterways of the Eastern Shore, the Choptank River. +It was a good three miles across the river's mouth, and Rick occupied +the time by reading aloud to Scotty, who was piloting. + +"'The Choptank River is navigable for large ships to the city of +Cambridge, a principal Eastern Shore port. Yachts will find the river +navigable for twenty miles beyond Cambridge, depending on their draft, +while boats of shallow draft can cruise all the way into the State of +Delaware.'" Rick paused in his reading and looked up. "Be fun to go up +one of these rivers to the source, wouldn't it?" + +"Maybe we can," Scotty replied. "Read on." + +"'The name Choptank comes from the Choptank Indians who lived in the +area until the middle of the nineteenth century. These Indians were +first discovered by Captain John Smith when he sailed into Chesapeake +Bay in search of a location for what later became the Jamestown +Colony.'" + +"We're sailing through history," Scotty commented. "And we'd better step +on it." He pushed the throttles forward. The houseboat accelerated to +its top speed of about twelve miles an hour. + +"What's up?" Rick demanded. + +"Look to the southwest. That must be one of those Chesapeake Bay squalls +the book warns about." + +There was a black line of clouds some distance away, but Rick could see +that the squall line was moving fast, crossing the bay in their +direction. He swung the chart table up and studied the situation. They +were close to the south shore of the Choptank River now, and the chart +showed no easily accessible place of shelter in the vicinity. They would +have to run for the Little Choptank, the next river to the south. The +chart showed several creeks off the Little Choptank. They could duck +into the one nearest the river mouth. + +"Can we ride it out if we have to?" Rick asked. + +Scotty grinned. "We'll find out, if we have to. But I'd rather not be in +open water when a squall hits this barge. It's not built for storms. +Keep your fingers crossed and hope we get to cover before it hits." + +"I hear you talking. I'm going to do a little research." Rick ducked +into the cabin and took the tide tables from the bookshelf. Back on +deck, he leafed through the official publication and found that the +nearest point for tidal data was the Choptank River Light, only a few +miles away and clearly visible. High and low tides at the light were +about three hours and fifteen minutes earlier than Baltimore, the data +station for the area. Rick checked Baltimore data for the date, +subtracted quickly, and glanced at his watch. + +"High tide in about a half hour. The chart shows three feet near shore +at mean low water. High tide will bring it up to four and a half at the +very least. That's plenty for this barge. Get inshore and cut corners. +We won't have to stick to the channel." + +Scotty swung the wheel instantly, and the houseboat took a new course, +leading them closer to shore. "Better keep an eye out for logs or +pilings," Scotty warned. "No rocks in the area, so we don't have to +worry about shoals." + +The wooded shore slid by, the trees gradually giving way to low scrub +and marsh grass as they neared the mouth of the Little Choptank. Rick +alternately kept an eye out ahead and checked their position on the +chart. They were in about five feet of water, more than enough for the +shallow-draft houseboat. His principal worry was the outboard +propellers. He didn't want to break one on a log that might be sticking +up underwater. + +The squall was closer now, and the sky was growing dark. Rick estimated +that they had no more than ten minutes before the storm would hit. He +had to look up at a sharp angle to see the storm front. Visibility was +down to zero directly under it. Whitecaps and a roiling sea told him +there was plenty of wind in the squall. He doubted that the houseboat +could head into it successfully. The wind would catch the high cabin +sides and force the houseboat onto the shore. + +Scotty swung around the northern tip of land that marked the mouth of +the Little Choptank. "We won't make it," he said, glancing at the chart. + +Rick nodded. "But the wind will be behind us. We can drive right into +the mouth of the nearest creek. According to the chart, there's a cove +just inside the mouth where we ought to be out of the wind." He put his +finger on the place, and suddenly a chill ran through him. The nearest +safe harbor was Swamp Creek, where Link Harris had vanished! + +There wasn't time to talk about it. He would have to be prepared to drop +the anchor quickly. "I'm going up on the bow," he said. "Once into the +creek, turn as hard as you can into the wind, then cut the power. I'll +heave the anchor over and the wind pressure on the boat can set it. But +keep the motors turning over in case it doesn't hold." + +"Got it," Scotty agreed. + +Rick stepped out of the cockpit onto the catwalk. The cabin top was just +chest-high, and he could hold on by grabbing the safety rails that ran +along the sides of the large sun deck. He moved swiftly along the walk +to the foredeck, a small semicircular deck used primarily for docking +and anchoring. The anchor line was coiled on a hook on the curving front +of the cabin, and the patent anchor was stowed on the deck itself. Rick +took the coil and faked down the line in smooth figure eights so it +would run out without fouling, then made sure the anchor was free and +ready to go. + +When Rick stood up and looked down the length of the cabin top at +Scotty, he saw that the squall was almost on them. The turbulent cloud +front was directly overhead. He saw the wind line, marked by turbulent +water, move swiftly toward the houseboat. The _Spindrift_ rocked as +though shaken by a giant hand, and its speed picked up appreciably. The +houseboat began to pitch as the chop built up around it. Visibility +dropped suddenly; it was almost dark. Rick winced as large, hard-driven +raindrops lashed into his face, then he turned his back to the storm and +stared ahead. + +The creek mouth was in sight. He pointed to it for Scotty's benefit, but +when he turned to look at his pal, the driving rain slashed into his +eyes and made him look away. + +Scotty had seen the creek mouth. Staying as close to shore as he dared, +Scotty drove the houseboat to within fifty yards of the narrow mouth, +then swung the helm hard. The wind, which had been astern, was now abeam +and its force was acting on the high side of the boat. The houseboat +slewed sideways, and for a moment Rick thought they would be driven on +to the upstream bank of the creek. But Scotty had judged his distance +and wind pressure well. The boat shot into the creek mouth with feet to +spare. + +The cove opened up ahead. Scotty reversed one motor and the houseboat +turned almost in its own length. Rick watched the shore through +squinting eyes, and the moment he saw the boat's forward motion cease, +he dropped the big anchor over. The wind caught the houseboat again and +drove it backward into the cove while the anchor line ran out. When he +had enough line out for safety, Rick snubbed it tight around a cleat, +held the taut line between thumb and forefinger until he was sure it had +none of the vibrations caused by a dragging anchor, and then hurried +back along the catwalk to the cockpit. He and Scotty ran from the +rainswept deck down the two steps into the cabin. + +For a moment the two stood grinning at each other and listening to the +heavy drumming of the rain on the cabin top, then Rick spoke. "We'd +better get out of these wet clothes so we can sit down. This may last +for an hour or so." + +Scotty agreed. "First one into dry shorts makes the coffee." + +"That's me," Rick said. He stripped off the soaking clothes, toweled +quickly, and put on dry shorts. The rain had chilled the air, so he +reached into the drawer under the amidships bunks, took out a sweat +shirt, and pulled it over his head. It felt good. + +Scotty had taken time to dry off the books and binoculars he had brought +from the deck before he changed his own clothes. By the time he was +dressed in dry shorts and sweater, Rick had the alcohol stove going and +water heating for coffee. + +"Know where we are?" Rick asked casually. + +"Sure. We're--" Scotty stopped. "For Pete's sake! I didn't make the +connection at first. We're in Swamp Creek, where that man got snatched +by a flying saucer!" + +"Right. Worried?" + +Scotty grinned. "Any flying saucer that can navigate in this weather is +welcome to what it gets. How's the anchor?" + +"Holding," Rick said. "I hope." He looked out the galley window and +watched the shore. It changed position as the boat moved, but that was +only because the houseboat was swinging at anchor. "Seems all right," he +added. + +Ten minutes later coffee was ready. The boys sat at the dinette table +and sipped with relish, listening to the storm outside. It seemed to be +increasing in intensity. + +"Picking up," Scotty said. "The guidebook wasn't kidding when it said +'sudden and severe summer storms lash the bay.'" + +"Wonder how long they last?" Rick asked. + +"Hard to say. Perhaps an hour." + +The houseboat jerked suddenly. Rick jumped to his feet. "Did you feel +that?" + +The boat heeled under the lash of wind. Rick peeled off his sweat shirt. +"Feels as though the anchor dragged a little. I'm going out and let out +more scope. We can't take a chance of drifting in this wind." + +"I'll go," Scotty offered. + +"No. I put the anchor down. It's my fault if it slips. Stand by." + +Rick pulled the cabin door open and winced at the blast of raindrops, +like heavy buckshot on his face and body. For a moment he hesitated, +then realized the sooner he got it over with, the better. He hurried to +the catwalk and swung down it, meanwhile estimating his distances. He +could let out another fifty feet of anchor line without getting the boat +too near shore. The more anchor line out, the better the anchor could +hold. + +He made the forward deck and looked around, realizing that the wind +direction had changed and that the blast was now coming down the creek, +swinging the houseboat around. That probably was why the anchor had +shifted. He knelt and took the line in his fingers. It no longer seemed +to be slipping, but it was better not to take a chance. He unloosed the +half hitches that held it to the cleat, threw off all but one +figure-eight turn, and let the anchor line run out slowly. When he +estimated about fifty feet had run through, he put on more figure eights +around the cleat, then dropped half hitches over to secure the line. +Once more he reached out and held the taut line. It didn't seem to be +slipping. He pulled on it hard, and felt the boat move. The anchor was +in solidly this time. + +Rick turned and started back to the catwalk, rain lashing his back. +Sudden instinct made him whirl around in time to see something huge and +black rushing at him out of the storm. Rain blurred his vision. He had a +swift impression of a black figure, shaped like a diamond, coming at +him. He threw himself flat on the foredeck. There was a rustling sound +overhead, and something clanged off the cabin top's aluminum rail. Rick +was on his feet again. Heart pounding, he looked around. There was +nothing but rain and wind. He stood upright and looked across the cabin +top. For an instant he glimpsed a black object above the canopy over the +rear cockpit, then that, too, was lost in the rain. + +Shaken, Rick made his way back to the cabin, entered, closed the door, +and leaned against it. Scotty looked up, and was on his feet in an +instant. + +[Illustration (2 page 29 and 30)] + +"Rick! What happened? You're white as a sheet!" he exclaimed. + +"Saw one," Rick managed. He was still shaking. "It went right over the +boat. I think it hit the upper rail. We'll check later. But it wasn't a +flying saucer. I'm sure of that." + +"What was it?" Scotty demanded. + +"A flying stingaree!" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +Orvil Harris, Crabber + + +Rick Brant awoke to the sound of a motor. For a moment he lay quietly in +his bunk, listening. The sun through the cabin windows told him it was +early in the morning. The sunlight still had the red quality of early +sunrise. He watched the light shift as the houseboat swung on its +anchor. + +By the time the storm last night had ended, darkness had set in, and it +was only sensible to turn on the anchor light and remain in the Swamp +Creek cove for the night. In spite of his unsettling experience, Rick +and Scotty had not been deeply disturbed. Neither he nor Scotty believed +in flying saucers--at least, not in saucers that kidnaped people, and +the object Rick had seen had not been saucer-like. It had been shaped +like a stingaree. + +Stingarees don't fly. + +Rick smiled to himself. During another vacation, skin diving in the +Virgin Islands, he and Scotty had proved that octopuses don't wail. But +if stingarees don't fly, he asked himself, what looks like a stingaree +and _does_ fly? + +He realized suddenly that the sound of the motor was louder once again. +Someone investigating the houseboat? He swung out of bed. The cool air +of morning was in sharp contrast to the warmth of his sleeping bag. +Quickly he slipped into shorts and sweat shirt. As he opened the cabin +door, he heard the slap of bare feet on the deck behind him and turned +to see Scotty regain his balance after dropping from the upper bunk. + +"Go ahead," Scotty called. "Be right with you." + +"Okay." Rick stepped out into the cockpit and glanced around. It was a +lovely morning. The ever-present birds of the Chesapeake area were +already active. A huge blue heron stepped daintily in the shallows like +a stilt walker afraid of falling over. The heron was looking for small +fish or anything that moved and was edible. An osprey, the great fish +hawk of the bay region, swooped overhead on lazy wings, sharp eyes alert +for small fish near the water's surface. In the pine woods behind the +shore marsh, a bluejay called, its voice like a squeaky hinge. + +The motor sound was distant now, and the shore upstream blocked Rick's +view. Then, as he watched, a long, low, white motorboat came into sight. +Its bow was vertical, its sides low. There was no cabin. Amidships was a +single man, clad in overalls and a denim shirt. The man was surrounded +by bushel baskets, and he held a long-handled crab net made of chicken +wire. + +Rick watched with interest. On one side of the boat was a roller that +extended out over the water. A heavy cord came out of the water, crossed +the roller, and dipped back into the water again. Every few feet there +was a chunk of something on the cord, apparently bait. As Rick watched, +a piece of bait came up with a crab clinging to it. The net swooped and +the crab was caught, pulled inboard, and dumped into a bushel basket +with one fluid motion. The crabber never took his eyes from the cord. +The boat continued in a straight line. + +Scotty came out on deck and joined Rick. The boys watched in silence +while the man caught a dozen crabs, then picked one from the bait and +flipped it into the water. + +"Too small, I guess," Rick commented. + +"Must be. Where does the line go?" + +Rick pointed. A gallon oilcan, painted blue and white, bobbed gently in +the creek. "That's where he's heading." + +The crabber approached the can, then flipped the line off the roller. +Using a lever next to him, he turned the boat and headed toward another +can some distance away. A quick pull with a boat hook and the line +attached to the can was placed over the roller. Crabs appeared, holding +onto the bait as the boat moved along the new line. Rick counted. The +crabber was getting about one crab for every three baits. + +Scotty leaned over the cockpit rail. "There's the end of his line, over +near shore. He'll pass close to us." + +"That's why the motor sounded loud," Rick guessed. "He moves from one +line to another. Last time he came by the boat he woke me up." + +"Same here." Scotty nodded. + +The crabber moved methodically, his boat proceeding at a steady pace +toward the houseboat. As he came abreast, he called, "Mornin'." + +The boys returned the greeting. + +"Looks like a good catch," Scotty called. + +"Fair. Only fair." The crabber scooped up a huge blue crab from almost +under their noses and went on his way. + +"If it's only fair now, what must it be like when it's good?" Rick asked +with a grin. + +"Two crabs on every hunk of bait," Scotty said. "You count crabs and +I'll make coffee." + +"That's my boy," Rick said approvingly. + +Scotty went into the cabin and left Rick watching the crabber. Rick +tried to figure out all the details. After a short time he concluded +that the floats were attached to anchors of some kind. The anchors kept +the crab line on the bottom, except when it was running over the roller. +He also saw that there were no hooks or other gadgets. The crabs were +caught simply because they refused to let go of the bait. + +The aroma of coffee drifted through the cabin door, and Rick wondered +why it is that coffee, bacon, and other breakfast scents are so much +more tantalizing on the water. + +The crabber approached on the leg of his journey closest to the boat. On +impulse, Rick called, "Come aboard and have some coffee?" + +The man grinned. Without missing his smooth swing at a rising crab, he +called back, "Don't mind. That coffee smell was drivin' me nigh crazy. +Be back when I finish this line." + +Rick leaned into the cabin. "Company for coffee, Scotty." + +"Heard you. Got another cup all ready. In here or out there?" + +"Out here. It's too nice to be inside." + +In a few moments the motorboat, which turned out to be as long as the +houseboat, came alongside. Rick took the line thrown by the crabber and +made it fast so that the crab boat would drift astern. He looked into +the boat with interest. Covers on four baskets showed that the crabber +had collected four bushels of crabs. A fifth and sixth basket were half +full, one with very large crabs, the other with smaller ones. + +The crabber swung aboard. He was of medium height, with light-blue eyes +set in a tanned and weather-beaten face. Rick guessed his age to be +somewhere in the mid-forties. He smiled, showing even teeth that were +glaringly white in his tanned face. + +"Name's Orvil Harris," he announced. + +"Rick Brant." Rick shook hands. "That's Don Scott coming out with the +coffee." + +Scotty put down the coffeepot and mugs he was carrying and shook hands. +"Call me Scotty, Mr. Harris. How do you like your coffee?" + +"Strong and often," Harris replied. "Plain black. Call me Orvil." + +Like all visitors, Harris was interested in the houseboat. "Been hopin' +for a look inside," he said in his slurred Eastern Shore accent. "Almost +gave up hope. You get up late, seems like." + +Rick glanced at the sun. "Must be all of seven o'clock. You call that +late?" + +"Been here since four. It's late for me." + +Rick showed Orvil Harris through the boat, then sat with him and Scotty +in the cockpit, sipping steaming coffee. The crabber talked willingly +about his business. + +"Not much profit," he reported, "but it beats workin'." + +After hearing about a crabber's life, rising in the middle of the night, +rain or shine, working crab lines and hauling baskets around until noon, +Rick wondered what Harris would consider hard work. Having spent a +dollar for six steamed crabs a few nights before, he was also amazed to +hear the crabber report that he received only six dollars a bushel for +"jumbo" crabs and three dollars a bushel for "culls," or medium ones. +All under four and a half inches from tip to tip were thrown back. + +Rick waited a courteous length of time before asking the question that +had been on his mind since hearing the crabber's name. "Are you any +relation to Link Harris?" + +"Second cousin." The blue eyes examined him with new interest. "Where'd +you hear about Link?" + +"At the Narrows," Scotty replied. "We were talking about flying +saucers." + +"Flyin' catfish," Harris said scornfully. "You swallow that yarn?" + +"Didn't you?" Rick asked quickly. + +"Not any. That why you picked this creek to anchor in when there's so +many nicer ones upstream?" + +Scotty explained. "We ducked in here to get out of that squall last +night. We didn't exactly pick it. Afterward, we realized where we were." + +"Why don't you believe the story about Link Harris?" Rick wanted to +know. + +"Oh, I believe some of it." The crabber took out a blackened, much-used +pipe and stoked it. "Link disappeared, all right. We found his boat +yonder." He pointed to a spot on the marshy shore. + +"He didn't drown?" Rick pressed. + +Harris shrugged. "Not very likely. We'd have found his body. Way the +tides were that day, there was no ebb tide strong enough to carry a body +out into deep water. The creek was clear. We'd have seen him." + +"Then where did he go?" Scotty demanded. + +"Can't say. When he disappeared, I went to Baltimore and bought every +book on flyin' saucers I could lay hands on. All I know for sure is that +what folks have been seein' around here ain't saucers. Shape's wrong, +color's wrong, and they don't move the way the books say." + +"Would you say they were diamond-shaped, dark in color, with tails?" +Rick asked carefully. + +Harris stopped with a match halfway to his pipe. "I would. For sure. +When'd you see one?" + +"Last night. Right here." + +"Mmmmm." Harris got the pipe going well and threw the match into the +water. "I've never seen one close. Hoped to. That's why I crab this +creek. Would you say it was big enough to catch a man?" + +Rick shook his head. "I didn't get a very long look, but I'd say +definitely not. Unless it had some kind of powerful motor I couldn't see +or hear." + +Harris puffed silently. + +"Any theories?" Scotty asked. + +"Not one. I'm barren as the flats in winter." + +Rick finished his coffee and put the mug down on the cabin top. "Would +Link have gone away of his own accord?" + +"I wouldn't think so." Harris accepted more coffee from Scotty. "But +let's keep one foot anchored. Who knows what's in a man's mind? Any man? +Sometimes there's a deep channel full of black water, and nothin' to +make you suspect it. Maybe Link did walk off. It would be the easiest +explanation--if you hadn't seen somethin' last night. I was about to +give up. Now I'm not so sure. What you saw came from somewhere, and it +was goin' somewhere. If we could find out whence and whither, so to +speak, we might have an idea of what happened to Link." + +Harris drew erect. "Speakin' of whence and whither, what's your +destination?" + +"We're visiting a friend," Rick answered. "He lives on Martins Creek on +the south side of the river. Name is Ames." + +Harris nodded. "I know who he is. Washington man. Has a summer place." + +"You've met him?" Scotty inquired. + +"So to speak. We've howdy'd, but we haven't shook." + +Rick smothered a grin at the picturesque phrase. + +"I'd better get back to crabs," Harris said. "I'm mighty grateful for +the hospitality. You get to town, look me up, and give me a chance to +return it." He shook hands with both boys, pulled his boat alongside, +and stepped aboard. In a short time, he was running the crab lines +again. + +"Interesting," Rick said noncommittally. + +Scotty chuckled. "Here we go again. Sherlock Brant's got his teeth into +a nice fat mystery. Good-by vacation." + +Rick had to grin. "It's not that bad," he said defensively. "I just +thought we might sniff around a little." + +"That's what I thought you thought. Come on, Hawkshaw. Let's get some +bacon and eggs on the fire and haul anchor." + +"Okay." Rick checked the chart. "We're only about twenty minutes' run +from Steve's place. If we eat here, he won't think he has to feed us +breakfast." + +"Considerate," Scotty agreed, grinning. "I can see you now. You walk up +the dock, shake hands, and say, 'Glad to see you, Steve. Don't bother +about breakfast. We've eaten. By the way, have you had any trouble with +flying stingarees?'" + +Rick grinned back. "Not bad predicting. Actually, I was going to wait +for the right opportunity, then say, 'Wonderful hunting and fishing +country, Steve. By the way, when does the hunting season open for flying +stingarees?'" + +Scotty laughed. "Okay. Only let's get going. I want to see how he +answers!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +Steve's Place + + +A red buoy marked the entrance to Martins Creek. Rick, at the helm, +passed it close to starboard and headed into the center of the creek. +Past the wooded shores of the creek entrance, he could see fields, +obviously tended, and more woods. + +"Steve's place should be the second on the left," Scotty said. "The +first house with a dock." + +"Use the binoculars," Rick suggested. "We should be able to see it when +we round the next bend." + +The houseboat passed the first house, a small, modern dwelling set close +to the water. A rowboat was hauled up on the shore. The creek rounded a +wooded promontory and the next house came into view. Steve's! + +Rick's eager eyes saw an attractive farmhouse, set well back from the +water in a frame of willows and white oaks. There was an acre of green +lawn in front of the house, the lawn running down to the water's edge. A +small dock jutted out into the creek. Tied to one side of it was a +sturdy runabout with an outboard motor. + +"Pretty," Scotty approved. + +Rick nodded. The farmhouse was half frame, half white brick, with a +slate roof. It was apparently only one story high. On impulse, Rick gave +a long blast on the boat horn. + +The front door opened and a man looked out, then walked swiftly down to +the dock, waving. The boys waved back. + +"Get the lines ready," Rick requested. "I'll back in." + +He throttled down and let the houseboat move slowly past the dock while +he yelled a greeting to Steve Ames. There were no obstacles, and just +enough room for the boat. He reversed his motors and threw his helm hard +over, backing slowly into position. Scotty stood ready with a line, +which he heaved to Steve. Then Scotty ran lightly to the foredeck and +got the bowline ready. The houseboat nestled against the dock smoothly +and Rick killed the motors. Then the three old friends were shaking +hands and grinning from ear to ear. + +"I've been watching since yesterday afternoon," Steve told them. "That +storm last night worried me some. I didn't know whether you could ride +it out or not." + +"No trouble," Rick said. "We ran into Swamp Creek on the north side of +the river and spent the night there." He watched the agent's face +closely, but Steve didn't react. + +"Come on in," Steve invited. "Coffee's on. Had your breakfast?" + +"We ate before hauling anchor," Scotty said, grinning. + +Steve Ames knew the boys well. "Something's up," he stated. "Rick is +watching me like a suspicious sand crab and your tone of voice is wrong, +Scotty. Coffee first, then talk. Come on." + +Rick shook his head in admiration. It was impossible to catch Steve off +guard. The agent had a deceptive appearance, athletic and good looking, +with the forthright friendliness of a college undergraduate. But his +trained eyes and ears missed nothing. + +Steve's living room was attractive and comfortable, with bookshelves +between the windows, a stone fireplace, a striped rug, and deep, restful +chairs. There were lamps in exactly the right positions for reading. + +The agent brought in a tray of coffee cups, with a pot of coffee and +platter of doughnuts. "Even if you've eaten breakfast, you can manage a +couple of these." He poured coffee and made sure the boys were +comfortable, then sank into an armchair and looked at them quizzically. + +"All right. Out with it." + +Rick chuckled. "You're too sharp," he accused. "We had a plan all cooked +up. I was going to comment on the fishing and hunting, and then +ask--very innocently--when the season for flying stingarees opened." + +The agent's eyebrows went up. "Flying stingarees? Swimming ones, yes. +Open season any time. Flying ones, no. What is all this?" + +"Rick saw one last night in the storm," Scotty explained. + +"That's not all," Rick added. He told of their conversation at the +Narrows and of the talk with Orvil Harris that morning. "So there's +something fishy around here besides crabs and rockfish. We thought you +might know," he concluded. + +Steve shook his head with obvious admiration. "Leave it to the Spindrift +twins! If there's a mystery afoot, you'll unearth it. Nope, lads. Never +heard of your flying stingarees, or flying saucers, either. But that's +not surprising. I'm down here mostly on weekends, sometimes with a +friend or two, and the only local folks we see are at the store or gas +station. Usually I'm in too much of a rush for small talk. I don't get +the local papers, and when I listen to the radio or watch TV, it's +either a Washington or Baltimore station. So I'm not in touch with local +events." + +"Anyway," Rick said, "stingarees don't fly." + +Steve had been in the Virgin Islands, too, and had been involved in the +adventure of _The Wailing Octopus_. "You found out that the octopus +didn't wail," he reminded them, "but for a while it looked as though +you'd found a new species. Maybe this is the same thing. What makes the +stingaree fly?" + +"It would be fun to find out," Scotty admitted. + +"You'll have time to make a start, and I won't be in the way with plans +for fishing or crabbing. I'm sorry, boys, but I'll be in and out of +Washington for a few days. Got a hot case working that I can't leave for +long." + +The boys protested. "You deserve some vacation," Rick said hotly. + +Steve held up his hand. "Whoa! I'm getting a vacation. This case should +be settled in three or four days, and I'll be with you. Meanwhile, you +move in here. You can drive me to the airport at Cambridge and pick me +up when I come back. That will leave you a car, and you can use the +motorboat for exploring or for fishing. If you feel like skin diving, +you can try for rock or hardheads off the northern tip of Taylors +Island, right at the mouth of the river. Did you bring gear?" + +"The whole set," Rick replied. "Lungs, compressors, guns, and even +suits." + +"You won't need suits. The bay is shallow and warm. At night you can +relax right here. Plenty of books, TV, radio, or a chessboard. If it +gets cool, there's wood for the fireplace." + +"Sounds good," Scotty agreed. "But we wanted you with us." + +"I will be. Before the weekend." + +"When do you have to leave?" Rick asked. + +"Three this afternoon. I have an evening meeting at headquarters. I'll +be back on the four-o'clock flight tomorrow afternoon, and, with luck, I +won't have to go again. If I do, it will be only for a day." + +"Okay," Rick said reluctantly. "We'll settle in, but we won't move in. +We'll sleep on the boat. No need to use up your linens and stuff when we +have sleeping bags if the weather is cold and cotton blankets when it's +warm. Besides, housekeeping is easier on the boat." + +Steve grinned. "I'll bet it is. If I know you two, you eat out of cans +and never use a dish if you can help it. Your idea of washing a coffee +cup is to hold it under running water or to dip it in the bay. Wait +until your mother and the girls join you. Life will undergo a drastic +change." + +"Don't rub it in," Scotty said ruefully. "Now, how about showing us over +this estate of yours?" + +Steve was pleased by the request. He obviously was proud of his +creekside home, and with reason. There were fifty acres of land, mostly +oak forest, with a private access road. Electric power came in from the +public power lines, but he had a gasoline generator in case of failure, +and his own artesian well. He explained: + +"The house has been completely remodeled, but it's really quite old. +When it was built, there was only a wagon track. In those days, the +rivers and creeks were the highways, and the people traveled by boat. +You'll see old mansions fronting on the rivers here. The back doors face +the roads. Water transport was the reason. The landed gentry had barges +rowed by slaves. The poor folks rowed their own. Of course, there were +plenty of sailing craft, too. There still are." + +The creek in front of the house proved deep enough for swimming, and the +three went for a dip. Rick tasted the water. It was salty, but not like +the ocean. The backwaters of the bay were brackish, with low-salt +content. + +In the afternoon, the boys--somewhat reluctantly--got into what they +referred to as "shore-going clothes." These consisted of slacks, sport +shirts, light casual jackets, and loafers. Steve had a bag packed. They +got into his car, a late-model convertible, and headed for Cambridge. + +The plane, a small twin-engine craft, was late coming from Norfolk. By +the time Steve was en route to Washington, it was nearly the dinner +hour. + +"Eat out?" Rick suggested. + +"Absolutely. More crab cakes?" + +Rick shook his head. "Crab imperial. Maybe some steamed clams." + +"You're making me hungry," Scotty protested. "I'll say one thing for the +bay area. The folks eat well. How about some terrapin stew?" + +"Crab imperial," Rick said again. "Baked in a crab shell. Lots of +mayonnaise, paprika, and butter. I'll have a hearts of romaine salad on +the side, with oil-and-vinegar dressing. Maybe tarragon vinegar. A few +French fries, too. But first, a couple of dozen steamed clams. What do +they call 'em here? Manos, pronounced Man! Oh!" + +"Just tell me where," Scotty begged. "Say no more." + +"How about that place we passed just before we got to Cambridge? The one +built like a Colonial mansion." + +"The Bay Gourmet," Scotty remembered. "Okay. You're driving." + +Rick put the convertible in gear and moved out of the airport driveway +onto the highway. "We're on our own," he said. "It's up to us to +entertain ourselves. But food isn't enough. Man cannot live by bread +alone, the Scriptures say." + +"I knew it." Scotty slumped down in the seat and sighed. "Since man +cannot live by bread alone, his life must be filled with other things. +And guess what things!" + +Rick smiled in anticipation. "Uh-huh. Flying stingarees." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +The Face Is Familiar + + +The Bay Gourmet was all that its outside appearance promised. A waiter, +elderly and courteous, his voice soft with the Eastern Shore accent, led +them to a table in a main dining room that was like something out of +early American history, Maryland style. The Maryland colony had not been +poor, and many of its settlers had been of the English nobility. They +had brought with them furniture, paintings, and chinaware from England +and France, and their homes were gracious and livable. + +The restaurant followed the pattern. Rick wouldn't have been surprised +to see the ghost of Lord Baltimore walk through one of the arches. + +The boys pored over the menus and finally settled on crab gumbo, clam +fritters, and crab imperial. While they waited, Rick opened the subject +that was on his mind. "How does a stingaree fly?" + +Scotty shrugged. "Easy. He climbs to the top of a tall tree, spreads his +wings, and takes off. He flaps his wings to gain altitude. He steers +with his tail." + +"I'm serious," Rick said sternly, his eyes twinkling. + +"So am I. Alternate method: the stingaree climbs on a fence and lassos a +passing airplane. Or catches a ride on an eagle's tail feathers. Take +your choice." + +"I've got a better way. The stingaree poses for his picture. The picture +is used as a model for making a kite, probably of black plastic. The +kite gets flown in the wind." + +Scotty stared. "Maybe--just maybe--you've got something there. The +stingaree shape would make a good kite. Could what you saw have been a +kite?" + +"It's possible." Rick nodded. "The wind was funneling down the creek +pretty fast, and it would have carried a big kite. There's only one +small difficulty. Why launch a kite that has no string?" + +"You certain it didn't have a string?" + +"In that wind, the string would have had to be a cable. I'd have seen +it, and maybe felt it. The kite--stingaree, that is--just missed. Of +course, the string might have broken." + +"There's another small difficulty," Scotty said thoughtfully. "If it was +a kite, where was it launched and why?" + +"Up the creek somewhere. We don't know what's up there." + +"True. From the looks, I'd say not much. Maybe some opossums and +muskrats, which don't launch kites." + +Rick spread butter liberally on a hot biscuit. "We can always take a +look." + +"We can. In Steve's boat, the creek would be only a few minutes away." + +Rick savored the biscuit and took another bite that finished it. "I +could eat a ton of these. What else would make a stingaree fly?" + +Scotty accepted a pitcher of honey from the waiter and poured a +disgraceful amount on a biscuit. "How about some kind of experimental +aircraft?" + +Rick shook his head. "The stingaree was vertical. An experimental plane +in that position would have to be rising straight up, and this creature +was traveling almost horizontally, with the wind. Besides, I heard no +motor or any kind of power plant." + +"You're as lucid as lamplight, ol' buddy. You explain everything--except +what made that stingaree fly." + +Rick grinned wryly. "I'll never get a swelled head with you sticking +pins in it." + +"Only carrying out my proper function," Scotty said virtuously. + +The first course had arrived. Crab gumbo turned out to be spicy, hot, +and very, very good. + +"I may decide to live here," Rick said as he spooned up the last +mouthful. + +"I'm a native already," Scotty stated. "The Chesapeake Bay is my home, +if the rest of the meal lives up to the soup." + +The clam fritters were light, crisp, and succulent. "Meet a brand-new +Marylander," Scotty announced. + +Rick started to reply, then stopped as a party of three entered the +dining room and were shown to a table nearby. He knew one of the men, +but he couldn't remember where they had met. + +"Scotty," he said softly, "look around at the group that just came in. +Who's the man in the plaid jacket? I know him, but I can't remember." + +Scotty's napkin "accidentally" fell to the floor. He had to turn to pick +it up. When he straightened, he shook his head. "The face is familiar, +but I can't place it." + +Rick studied the man through half-lowered lids, not wanting to be rude +by staring openly. The familiar face was lean, and lined. It was not a +pleasant face, although its owner would be described as a +"distinguished-looking man of middle age." The lips were not especially +thin, but they were tightly held. The chin was firm, with a shadow of +beard even though the man looked freshly shaven. His hair was crisp, +wavy, and pure white. + +"Could be of French or Italian ancestry," Rick said. "Or, maybe, Spanish +or Portuguese. Anyway, I'd vote for Southern European." + +"On the button," Scotty agreed. + +Rick's eyes dropped as the man looked their way. The eyes were dark +brown, he saw, with heavy lids. The eyebrows, in startling contrast to +the white hair, were dark. + +The boy looked up again, his glance guarded. The man was smartly, but +conservatively dressed, in dark-blue slacks, white sport shirt open at +the collar, and a linen sport jacket of subdued plaid, much like those +affected by some Ivy Leaguers. + +The other two men were not familiar. One was almost bald, with a wisp of +sandy hair combed in a pitiful and useless attempt to conceal the +baldness. He wore glasses with clear plastic frames. They sat on a nose +that could have served as a golf-ball model. His lips were almost +nonexistent, and his chin receded so far that Rick wondered why he +didn't conceal it with a beard. He seemed like a complete non-entity. In +contrast to the white-haired man's style of dress, the nondescript man +wore a rumpled black suit of synthetic fabric, a regular white shirt, +and a tie that a color-blind old aunt might have given him for Christmas +two decades past. + +[Illustration (2 page 51 and 52)] + +The third man was the largest of the three, with an expressionless face +and eyes that never stopped moving. He sat motionless in his chair, +apparently completely relaxed. Rick knew that the relaxation was +deceptive. Steve Ames at times looked relaxed like that, but it was the +same kind of quietness one finds in a coiled spring that has not yet +been released. The man had brown hair, light-brown eyes, and a heavy +tan. He spoke only twice while Rick watched, and then only to give +orders to the waiter. The other two men talked steadily, but in such low +tones that the boys could not hear words. + +The crab imperial arrived, and the riddle of the familiar face was +forgotten in a new taste treat. After one luscious bite, Rick said, "I'm +going to bring the folks here and order a duplicate of this meal. +They'll go crazy." + +Excellent food was a tradition in the Brant household. Mrs. Brant was a +superb cook, and both she and Hartson Brant had taught the Spindrift +young people to appreciate a well-prepared dish. + +"I'll order the same thing just to keep them company," Scotty offered. + +"Generous, always generous," Rick replied. "You'll eat the same thing +even if you have to force it down." + +"I'll do just that," Scotty agreed. "Remember where you've seen yonder +diner?" + +Rick shook his head. "Not yet. It's an odd trio. He's the dominant one +in the group. The bald one looks like a servant, and the big one like a +police dog on guard." + +"Bodyguard?" Scotty asked quickly. + +"Maybe. Or, perhaps, a chauffeur. It's hard to say." + +"Do you suppose the white-haired man is just a familiar type and we've +never seen him before?" + +"No. It isn't that. I know I've seen him before, but I can't tell you +where or when." + +The boys finished the meal with a scoop of lemon sherbet and rose +reluctantly. "We'll be back," Rick promised. + +"That we will," Scotty echoed. + +The old waiter bowed them to the door. As they were leaving, Rick +paused. "Do you know that white-haired man at the table near us?" + +"Why, sir, that's Mr. Merlin. Summer folks, you might say. He bought one +of the old mansions. This is his second summer with us." + +"Which one of the old mansions?" Scotty asked. + +"Calvert's Favor. It's in the guidebooks, sir. We have copies for sale +if you'd like one." + +"We have one," Rick replied. "Thank you." + +"Not at all, gentlemen. Hurry back." + +The boys walked into a lovely summer night, with a newly risen moon, +near fullness, floating just above the horizon. By unspoken agreement, +they put the top down on Steve's convertible. Rick was just snapping it +in place when he sensed someone standing next to him. He turned, to face +the big man of the trio. + +The man got to the point without preliminaries. "You were asking the +waiter about Mr. Merlin." + +"We thought he looked familiar, but we couldn't place him," Rick +replied. "We meant no discourtesy." + +"I'm sure you didn't," the man said smoothly. He didn't smile, even +though his voice was pleasant enough. "Mr. Merlin is a very prominent +man. He comes down here to get away from people. Naturally, he doesn't +welcome inquiries. I'm sure you understand." + +"We have no intention of intruding," Rick stated coolly. "As I said, he +looked familiar. We merely asked out of curiosity." + +"You're not local boys." It was a statement. + +"No. We're visitors." + +"The local people have learned not to ask questions about Mr. Merlin. I +suggest you follow their example." The man turned and walked back into +the restaurant. + +The boys stared after him, openmouthed. + +"If that poor soul only knew," Scotty said, "he picked the best possible +way to arouse our curiosity." + +"I haven't been warned so politely in a long time," Rick agreed. "Come +on, son. Let's head for Martins Creek." He slid behind the wheel while +Scotty got into the passenger side. + +Rick started the car and listened to it purr for a moment. "I noticed +that Steve has quite a few books about the Eastern Shore on his +bookshelves," he said casually. + +"So did I. Including one called _Tidewater Maryland_. Lots of pictures +of the old estates in that one." + +"Be interesting if there was a picture of Calvert's Favor, wouldn't it?" + +"Interesting and maybe informative. Well, are we going to sit here all +night?" + +"Nope. We're going to Steve's. Looks as if we have a small research +project." + +"To be followed by a second project," Scotty added. "First we read up on +Calvert's Favor, and then we find it and look it over." + +Rick grinned. "Nobody warns Scotty with impunity." + +"But nobody!" Scotty said cheerfully. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +The Saucer Sighters + + +"We shoot a line straight north," Rick explained, "for a distance of +about twenty miles. Then we start asking questions. If we get +affirmative answers, we head north again for another ten miles and +repeat the process. We do this until we come to an area where saucers +have not been sighted. Okay?" + +Scotty nodded. "Okay. There is only one tiny flaw in this plan. If we +head straight north, we drop Steve's car into the Little Choptank. If we +cross that safely, we'll get wet in the main Choptank." + +Rick sighed. "If there is anything I detest, loathe, and despise, it is +people who get up in the morning feeling full of humor. We will go to +Cambridge, missing the Little Choptank, and cross the Choptank on the +bridge. Route 50 goes almost straight north. Is that more precise and +acceptable, Donald?" + +"It is indeed, Richard. I'm a stickler for accuracy." + +"You're a stickler in the mud. Let's get a notebook and start +traveling." + +A conference after dinner the night before had resulted in a plan of +action. The boys had decided to reduce all the rumors about flying +saucers to statistics that could be examined to see what elements the +various sightings had in common. The way to obtain the statistics was +through interviews. + +The problem of the white-haired man with the familiar face still +remained. Steve's books had disclosed that Calvert's Favor was famous, +that it had been so named by the original settler because he had been +granted the land by Lord Calvert, that it had changed hands only twice +in more than a century. What the books didn't give was its location. The +place was identified only as "a quiet creek, entirely within the +original land grant." There was no mention of a Calvert Creek in the +vicinity. They decided to put the question of its location aside until +Steve's return. + +It was a lovely morning. The convertible hummed smoothly over the +blacktop roads to Cambridge, onto Route 50, across the Choptank River +and north. Rick braked to a stop as the highway met the turnoff to +Easton. "Think we're far enough north?" + +Scotty had been consulting a road map. He shook his head. "Not yet. +Easton is almost due east of Knapps Narrows, and we know the saucers +have been sighted there. Better go on to Wye Mills." + +"Okay." The road was dual-lane cement, now, and Rick relaxed while the +car sped northward. "Odd name, Wye Mills. Lots of Wyes around here. +Three Wye Rivers on the chart, a Wye Landing, and a famous old Wye Oak." + +"Sounds like a song," Scotty said. "Wye, tell me Wye, are there saucers +in the sky--" + +"Please," Rick protested, "I'm in pain." + +Route 50 turned at Wye Mills, leading to the Chesapeake Bay Bridge that +crossed the bay to Annapolis. There was a gas station and lunch stand at +the intersection. Rick pulled in and drifted up to the gas pump. "Fill +it up, please. Any bottles of Coke around?" + +"In the machine." The attendant pointed to the red automatic vendor. + +The boys equipped themselves with Cokes and walked back to watch the +attendant fill the tank. "We must be somewhere near where all those +flying saucers were sighted," Rick remarked. + +The attendant looked up. "Farther south. Never heard of anyone this far +north seein' one. They see plenty down toward Cambridge. Ask me, they're +seein' spots in front of their eyes." + +The boys exchanged glances. When the car was ready, Rick turned and +started south again. "See any stores on the way where we could ask +again?" + +"There's a restaurant. I saw two grocery stores, too, but from the way +the attendant talked, we'll have to get closer to Cambridge." Scotty was +making a note in their notebook. + +Five miles back toward home, Rick stopped at another gas station and +asked the attendant to look at the oil. None was needed, so the boys +bought another pair of Cokes and engaged the man in conversation. + +"Ever see any flying saucers in this area?" Rick asked. + +"Nope. My brother did though, late one afternoon when he was on duty." + +Scotty took out the notebook. "We're trying to get some information +about them for a story we're writing. Do you remember when it was?" + +"Let's see. I was workin' in the evenin' that day, so it must have been +a Saturday. Last month, it was. Oh, I recall it now. Next day I took the +kids to my mother's. It was her birthday. That would make it the tenth." + +"Where was your brother when he saw it?" Rick queried. + +"Pumpin' gas. Right here. He said it sort of came up over the trees, +glittering like fire." The attendant pointed to a patch of trees down +the road. The direction was almost directly southwest. + +Scotty scribbled in the notebook. "Any other details you remember? What +time in the afternoon was it?" + +"Between four and five. Can't say exactly. He was still buzzin' when I +came on duty at six. Wanted to call the newspapers, but I talked him out +of it. People would think he was a fool." + +"Did you?" Rick asked quietly. + +"Nope. I know Chick. He's got a straight head on him. It may not have +been a flyin' saucer, but you can bet it wasn't anythin' common, or +anythin' he'd seen before." + +"Score one," Scotty said triumphantly as they drove off. + +"One flying saucer doesn't make a Martian invasion," Rick reminded him. +"Let's keep it up." + +By lunchtime they had interviewed a dozen people who claimed to have +seen flying saucers. All details of the sightings had been noted in +Scotty's book. During lunch, at a small restaurant in the old town of +Oxford, they scored three more times after interviews with fishermen. + +After lunch, they crossed the Choptank and headed south to the little +town of Vienna. From there the route led to the shore town of Elliott, +back to Vienna, and past the corner of Delaware to Salisbury, a +good-sized town on the Maryland Eastern Shore. + +There was a newspaper office in Salisbury. A chat with the editor and a +quick skim through the back files added more data to the growing list. +Rick had a hunch there was a pattern shaping up, but he could not be +sure until the information was all laid out for examination. + +By the time the boys met Steve at the small airport, both Rick and +Scotty had writer's cramp, and the notebook was nearly used up. They had +recorded over half a hundred sightings. + +Steve listened to a report of their day with an appreciative smile. +"Nothing like a mystery for keeping you two out of mischief," he told +them. "Want to eat out? Or cook a steak in the yard?" + +"Eat out," Scotty said promptly. + +"We can get steak at home," Rick added. "But not Chesapeake Bay clam +fritters or Maryland crab cakes." + +Steve had a favorite place of his own, a small, nondescript joint called +"Louie's Crab House" up the Choptank River, near the town of Denton. +There, on wooden trestle tables covered with brown wrapping paper, he +introduced them to a favorite Chesapeake Bay pastime known as a "crab +feast." + +The waiter set wooden blocks in front of them, with a round piece of +hardwood, a fork, and a sharp paring knife. A stack of paper napkins was +supplied, and individual pots of melted butter completed the setting. + +The boys waited impatiently, hungry, but trusting Steve's word that the +result was worth the wait. The waiter reappeared carrying a huge tray, +stacked with a towering pyramid of whole crabs, steaming and red, coated +with the spices in which they had been cooked. Placing the tray on the +table, the waiter asked, "Anything else?" + +Scotty said, dazed, "I don't believe there's anything else left in the +kitchen. We have all the crabs in the world right here." + +"Only three dozen," the waiter said. "Jumbos, of course. You want +anything, you yell." + +Unidentified flying objects were forgotten as Steve initiated them into +the proper method of eating fresh crab. It turned out to be quite an +art, but one that they mastered quickly. Soon all three of them were +munching succulent back-fin crab meat drenched in fresh butter. The +wooden block served as an anvil, and the round hardwood piece as a +hammer for cracking claws. The paring knife was used for trimming and +for scooping out delicious bits of meat. The fork was utilized to +persuade small tidbits to leave their shell cages. Three or four napkins +were used between each tidbit to mop buttery hands, and even chins, down +which the butter sometimes dripped. It was a feast, indeed. + +"If I hadn't been a heavy eater before, I'd be one after this," Scotty +observed happily. + +"Beats hunting flying stingarees," Rick agreed. "Pass another crab, +please." + +Not until the table had been cleared by the waiter, who simply removed +the utensils and tray, then wrapped up all the shells in the brown paper +and carried it off, did the conversation return to the mystery. + +Rick hadn't told Steve of last night's meeting with the white-haired man +or of the thinly veiled warning. He described them now in detail. + +"Odd," Steve said. "This familiar face needs identifying. No normal +person worries about anyone asking casual questions. That's a sure mark +of insecurity. In other words, the man is afraid. People who are afraid +often have something to hide. Do you have any reason to think he may be +tied up with the flying stingarees or saucers?" + +"None at all," Rick answered. + +"Do you know where Calvert's Favor is?" Scotty asked. "The location +wasn't given in your books. There was quite a lot about the plantation +house." + +"No, never heard of the place. But we'll find out when we pass through +Cambridge. I know a man there who knows everything about this area." +Steve held out his hand. "Let's see your notebook." + +Scotty handed it over. The young agent leafed through it rapidly. +"That's some list. If I had any doubt that people were seeing things, +it's gone now. How are you going to arrange the data?" + +"In tables, and on a map," Rick explained. + +"Fine. We can do it tonight. Want anything else?" + +Scotty groaned. "I couldn't even drink a glass of water." + +"Same here," Rick agreed. + +"Then let's leave the crabs behind and take a ride." + +On the way back to Cambridge, Steve Ames mused aloud. "You know, it's an +odd world. A few years ago there were flying saucer reports by the +dozen. Each one was given lots of newspaper space. The Air Force +conducted investigations. Then flying saucers got unpopular, the Air +Force closed its project, and the newspapers wrote a funny story every +time a report came in. Now we have a rash of sightings in one small +area. People talk about it, but no one gets excited. The authorities +brush it off as just hokum. Yet, your investigation today shows that +people are seeing _something_, even if we don't know what." + +Rick nodded thoughtfully. "What's even odder is that a well-known man +disappears, people search for him for a couple of days, and then do +nothing but talk about it. The police aren't even interested, so far as +we can tell." + +Steve laughed. "You're right. But look at it in another way. Assume +you're the local policeman. Someone rushes in and tells you that Joe +Doakes has been carried off by a flying saucer. You don't believe in +flying saucers, but you know Doakes. You investigate. His boat has been +found, but his body is missing. What do you assume? That he was really +toted off by some mysterious object? Nope. You assume he was hurt or +killed falling out of the boat. You know that sharks come into the bay +and sometimes swim up creeks. You figure that the currents sometimes act +in odd ways, depending on the winds. You figure a dozen natural kinds of +things, none connected with mysterious flying objects. You call a +coroner's jury, and not a man on it is willing to say for the record +that he believes in flying saucers. What happens?" + +"Case closed," Scotty said slowly, "because the body isn't around. No +proof of death, or even of accident. Pending proof of death--meaning the +body--the jury finds that Joe Doakes is missing under mysterious +circumstances and may have met with death or an accident by misadventure +while engaged in his lawful business of crabbing." + +"That's about it," Steve agreed. "It isn't really odd when you look at +it that way. But you can bet the case isn't closed. It's just inactive, +until something turns up. Remember there's no detective squad in a small +town." + +There was a combination gas station and store on the outskirts of +Cambridge. Steve drove in and honked the horn. A young boy looked out of +the store and called, "Howdy, Steve. Want gas?" + +"Not tonight, Jimmy. Ask your grandfather where Calvert's Favor is +located, will you?" + +The boy came out of the store and walked toward the car. He was a +freckle-faced towhead, with a grin wider than the Choptank River. "Heck, +Steve, I don't have to ask gran'pop that. Everybody knows where +Calvert's Favor is located." + +"Not everybody," Steve returned. "I don't. How about letting us in on +the secret, Jimmy?" + +"It's no secret. Everybody around here knows it's located across the +river from you. It's at the head of Swamp Creek." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +Sighting Data + + +Steve's living room was an excellent place to work. In fact, it was a +shade too comfortable. Rick and Scotty spent a half hour arguing over +who would do what in putting their data down on paper, and both knew +perfectly well that they were just stalling. + +Finally Rick said, "Let's admit it. We're both stuffed with crab, a +little sleepy, and too comfortable in these armchairs." + +Scotty waved a hand languidly. "All right. I concede the point." + +Steve Ames chuckled. "Suppose you move to less comfortable chairs. Those +dining-room chairs should keep you upright. Get to work and I will too." + +The boys hauled themselves to their feet reluctantly. Rick walked to the +door and looked out through the screen. He could see the creek +glistening, and, out beyond the dock where the houseboat and runabout +were tied up, he saw ripples spreading where a fish had jumped. The air +was still, and he could hear cicadas in the trees and shrubs. + +"This is the land of pleasant living," he observed. "I'm surprised +anyone on the Eastern Shore ever gets a lick of work done." + +"You certainly don't," Scotty retorted. "Come on over here and stop +admiring the scenery." + +Steve had produced large sheets of white paper, a ruler, and pencils. +Rick sat down. "I'll act as recorder." + +"Volunteering for the hardest job?" Scotty inquired. "The air must be +affecting you." + +"Nope." Rick shook his head. "I have just enough energy left to be +realistic. I can't read your writing. Suppose I put down the headings. +Location, date of sighting, time of sighting, direction of sighting, +number of persons who saw object. What else?" + +"Description," Scotty suggested. "Maybe that ought to be in two parts. +One for shape and one for color." + +Rick nodded. "Good idea. I'll rule lines as we go." He drew lines for +the columns, printed his headings, and put in the first several +horizontal lines. "Ready," he announced. + +"We'll start with the first one. Location: five miles south of Wye Mills +on Route 50." + +Rick printed: "5M S Wye Mls Rte 50." + +"Date of sighting, July 10. Time of sighting, between five and six in +the evening." + +Rick printed industriously. Scotty read from his notes until over twenty +lines of information had been printed on the chart. Then Steve +interrupted, bringing a tray of tall glasses of iced ginger ale. + +The young agent put the tray down and scanned the columns while the boys +helped themselves. In a moment Steve nodded. "There's a pattern taking +shape, at least in the descriptions. But I can't make much out of the +dates and locations, yet." + +"We'll keep plugging," Rick said. "Maybe we'll need to rearrange the +columns before they make sense." + +"You have a point," Steve agreed. "Use the chart for the source, then we +can fill out sheets on the individual items, or I have some +four-by-five-inch file cards that would be ideal." + +"But we'll be at it all night," Scotty objected. + +"I don't think so. Once the basic data are on paper, it will go fast. +Keep at it. Yell if you want refills on the ginger ale. I need to finish +my own homework." + +The boys returned to logging the data while Steve settled down with a +bulky report. In another hour the notebook had been exhausted, and the +big sheet of paper was nearly full of ruled lines and columns, recording +data. + +"We're done," Rick announced. + +Steve put his report aside and joined them at the table. The boys waited +expectantly while the agent scanned the sheet. + +"You've done a good job of collecting information," Steve said. "Now it +needs breaking down some more. The mixture in the 'color' column bothers +me. I have a hunch those colors may be related to the position of the +sun. Look." + +Rick watched as Steve's forefinger touched a line that showed the color +as "dark." The finger moved across the line to the time of day, eleven +A.M. Steve pointed to another line where the color was listed as +"orange." The time of day was seven fifteen P.M., with an additional +note of "twilight." + +"Got it," Scotty agreed. "You think the objects may actually be dark, +but appear in various colors depending on the position of the sun and +the position of the viewer." + +"It makes sense," Rick agreed. "All of the colors listed--red, orange, +silvery, bright--could be reflections of the sun on a smooth object." + +Steve walked to a bookshelf and pulled down a copy of _The World +Almanac_. "Sunrise and sunset times are listed in here. You can figure +out quickly enough where the sun was in relation to the observer. It +will take another sheet of paper and some more columns." + +"You gave us an extra sheet," Rick replied. "How should I head the +columns?" + +Steve thought for a moment. "Three columns for the position of the sun. +Rising, high, setting. Four columns for the position of the observer in +relation to the flying object--north, south, east, or west. One column +for color, and one for other comments such as 'shiny.' And, of course, +you want a column for the time." + +Rick recorded the data as Scotty read it off, checking _The World +Almanac_ for the sun's approximate positions. Steve was obviously +interested. He started to read his report again, then abandoned it and +came back to the table where the boys were working. + +When the data had been transferred, the three studied it. Rick ran his +eye down the columns quickly, getting an impression, then he went over +the data slowly. "You're right, Steve," he said finally. "It all +tallies, even at a quick look. In every case where the object looked +colored, the observer saw the sun striking it. Where it looked dark, the +object was between the observer and the sun. Or, at least, the observer +wasn't in a position to see the sun reflect off the object." + +Scotty added, "In every case where the object looked red or orange, the +sun was setting or had already set. In every case marked 'bright,' +'silvery,' or 'shiny,' the sun was high and the observer could see the +sun reflecting from the object." + +"It seems pretty clear," Steve agreed. "Now, we have only one really +close-range sighting, and that was Rick's. How sure are you that the +object was black?" + +Rick shrugged. "I know enough not to trust my eyes completely in wind +and rain. But there certainly wasn't any light to reflect off the +object, and I'm pretty sure it was either black or very dark brown." + +"That would fit all the sightings," Steve pointed out. "I'm assuming +that the objects have a smooth surface that reflects light, even though +the material may be dark colored. Didn't you suggest a kite made of dark +plastic? That would fit the bill, except that the objects don't act like +kites." + +"What do they act like?" Scotty demanded. + +Neither Steve nor Rick had an answer. + +"Let's try for another piece of information," Steve suggested. "Put the +dates down on cards. If you have sightings by different people on the +same dates, and at about the same times, put them on the same card. If +there's a big time discrepancy--say one sighting in the morning and +another in the afternoon--put them on different cards." + +Rick looked up. "What are you trying to find?" + +"Periodicity," Steve said promptly. "Is there any regularity in the +sightings? Do they occur every three, four, or five days, or once a week +on Mondays? Which reminds me. You might put down the day of the week, +too. There's a calendar on the wall behind you." + +"You read and I'll copy," Rick told Scotty. "Go ahead." He waited with +pencil poised over a card. In a moment he looked at his pal. "What are +you waiting for?" + +Scotty was poring over the notebook again. His eyebrows knit. "You know, +there's one chunk of data on just a few sightings that we didn't put +down because we didn't have a column for it." + +"What is it?" Steve asked. + +"I know!" Rick exclaimed. "There were a few times when people said they +saw yellow glows in the sky after they saw the objects. Isn't that it?" + +Scotty nodded. "I've been counting. There were five instances. Two +people said the glow wasn't really connected, because it came from +Wallops Island." + +"Why on earth didn't you include it in the chart?" Steve demanded. + +"It doesn't fit," Scotty replied. "In every single case, the glow was to +the southeast." + +"Maybe it does fit," Steve said emphatically. "Boys, never leave out a +bit of data because it doesn't seem to fit. This particular chunk could +very well be the clue." + +"Why?" Rick asked quickly. + +Steve shook his head. "I'm not sure, so I don't want to say. But include +every sighting of the yellow glow on the date cards. I'm going to borrow +that set for a closer look." + +Scotty began reading, while Rick recorded. When the cards were complete, +they ran through them. There was no periodicity. The dates seemed +completely random. Sometimes two sightings had been made at different +times on the same date. There would be two days, three, four, five, or +even six between sightings. + +"Not a trace of pattern," Rick said. + +"Who says stingarees have to fly on schedule?" Steve asked with a grin. +"They're not supposed to be like planes. What's the next step?" + +Scotty produced the map they had used. "One more job to do, and that's +to plot the locations of the observers and draw lines in the directions +of the sightings. That will show us if there's any regularity in the +place where the flying objects appear." + +"Very good," Steve approved. + +Scotty took pencil and ruler and laid the map out flat. "You read +location and direction, Rick, and I'll plot the data." + +"Okay." Rick began with the first. "Five miles south of Wye Mills on +Route 50. Direction, southwest." + +Scotty measured the distance from Wye Mills, using the map scale in +inches, then estimated the compass direction and drew a line. "Next." + +Rick read on. By the time he had reached the tenth sighting, all three +of them were waiting anxiously for each new bit of data to be plotted. + +Finally the job was complete. Steve had hurried off a moment before and +returned with a pair of compasses in his hand. As the boys watched, he +put the sharp point of one compass leg into a spot on the map, adjusted +the radius, and drew a perfect circle. He adjusted the radius again, and +drew a second circle, slightly larger, then a third. + +"Bull's-eye!" Rick said excitedly. + +The direction lines bisected the outer concentric circles like the radii +of an orb spider's web. In the center of the web was the smallest +circle. Within the circle was the focal point of all flying object +observations. + +Rick said the name aloud. + +"Swamp Creek!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +Calvert's Favor + + +There was a faint hint of coming daylight in the eastern sky when Rick, +Steve, and Scotty walked down the pier to the tied-up boats. The boys +had spent the night--or most of it--aboard the houseboat, until the +alarm pulled them from their sleeping bags at four o'clock. Steve had +breakfast cooking when they arrived at the farmhouse, and after coffee, +bacon, and eggs, they started on their mission. + +"Daybreak is the lowest peak of daily activity," Steve said as they +climbed into the runabout. He took the pilot's seat, while Rick and +Scotty prepared to cast off. + +"You might say that the first glimmer of daylight is man's worst hour," +Steve continued. "It's the time when battles start, when planes take off +for dawn bombing runs. I've read that it's the time when most deaths +occur in hospitals, although I don't know for certain that it's true. +What's more important to us, it's the time of day when guards are most +sleepy and least alert." + +The young agent had been working as he talked, checking the outboard +motor, checking the connections to the gasoline tank, and pumping +pressure into it. Now he pressed the starter and the well-kept motor +caught at once. Rick and Scotty cast off bow and stern lines and settled +themselves in the seat next to Steve. + +"Unless this mysterious Mr. Merlin suffers from sleepless nights, he's +deep in slumber. The sound of a small boat won't disturb him, because +he's used to the noise of motors from crabbers. We'll hope there is no +guard on the place. If there is, we'll be fishing. Better have the rods +ready. One of you can sit in back and troll from there." + +The outboard runabout moved away from the pier and into the creek. Steve +knew his way perfectly, and he opened the throttle to half speed, +steering through the curve at the mouth of the creek, rounding the buoy, +and heading directly toward Swamp Creek. + +It had taken the houseboat over twenty minutes to make the run. Steve +covered the distance in ten. As he throttled down and swung the runabout +into Swamp Creek, Rick's eye picked up a glimmer of light, then the +shape of something white cruising toward them. + +For a moment he stared into the lessening gloom, then said, "It's Orvil +Harris. Anyway, it looks like his boat." + +Steve said nothing for a moment, then he headed directly toward the +crabber. As the two boats closed, Harris paused in his crabbing and +watched the three in the runabout approach. + +Steve matched the crab boat's speed and nudged the runabout alongside. +"Howdy," he called. + +Orvil Harris reached out and caught the runabout's gunwale, then took +the line Rick passed to him. He made it fast around a cleat. "Up early," +he greeted them. "Come to watch me crab?" + +"Not exactly," Rick returned. "Mr. Harris, this is Mr. Ames." + +The crabber reached out a muscular hand and Steve stretched to meet it. +"Mighty pretty place you have on Martins Creek," Harris said. "Admired +it many's the time." + +"Thanks," Steve returned. "Be glad to have you drop in any time." + +"I may do that. Thanks." + +"The boys tell me your cousin was the one taken by a flying saucer." + +Harris grinned. "He was taken. I'm not sayin' how until I know." + +"What do you know about Calvert's Favor?" + +Harris rubbed his chin, and made a slight correction in the crab boat's +course. "Present owner is a man named Merlin. No one knows anythin' +about him, and no one asks. Has a big thug with him all the time, and +takes exception to people gettin' nosy. Most folks got snubbed and drew +back, so to speak. Jim Hardin--he's a fisherman hereabouts--took +exception and got beaten up. Hardin's not easy to lick. After that, +folks stopped speakin' to Merlin and company." + +"How big's the company?" Steve asked. + +"Merlin, bodyguard, a little squirt with no chin, and three others. +Cooks and bottle washers, likely. Would it be polite to ask why you're +interested?" + +Steve had been studying Harris since the two boats joined up, Rick knew, +so he wasn't surprised when Steve gave a direct reply. + +"You'll keep this to yourself, please. The boys have been doing a little +research, and it's clear these unidentified flying objects people have +been seeing come from Swamp Creek. That points to the old mansion, +especially since Mr. Merlin is so secretive about himself. We decided to +get up before the people at the mansion were likely to be about, and +look the place over. If it looks promising, we'll try keeping an eye on +it." + +Harris nodded. "I'll keep it to myself, you can be sure. If the mystery +of those flyin' stingarees gets solved, we may find out what happened to +Cousin Link. I'll help if I can." + +"You know these waters pretty well," Steve returned. "Is there any way +of getting to Calvert's Favor, or within watching distance, without +going up this creek?" + +The crabber reached over and turned a switch, cutting his engine. "There +is, for that boat you're in. About thirty yards downstream from the +entrance to this creek, there is a break in the line of swamp grass +along the shore. It's a little lead, a channel maybe six feet wide and +from two to three feet deep. It runs into the swamp. Right at the place +where the water gets too narrow for the boat, a man who didn't care if +he got muddy or wet could go through the brush to an old duck blind +right across from the mansion. A pair of good glasses would give him a +right good view of the whole thing." + +"We couldn't see the mansion from the boat?" Rick asked. + +"The brush is too thick. Tell you what, if you got ground tackle aboard, +drop a hook and come over with me. I'll run you up the creek and you can +take a good look. If anyone's out watchin', they'll only see a crab boat +lookin' for a place to set lines." + +"Scotty," Steve directed, "there's a grapnel on a line up on the bow, +under that small hatch. Toss it in, please." + +Scotty stood up on the seat, stepped to the bow, and found the small, +four-pronged anchor. He dropped it into the water, let out line, and +tied the line fast to the bow cleat. "Okay, Steve." + +The three got aboard the crab boat as Harris started his engine. "Make +yourselves comfortable," the crabber invited. "There's a pair of glasses +on the engine box." + +With the binoculars Rick and Steve had brought, that made three pairs +each. The crabber swung the boat around expertly and headed upstream. +The sky was light now, and far overhead a wisp of cirrus was glowing +pink, a warning of coming sunrise. + +Rick sat on the gunwale and looked ahead. The creek narrowed for a few +hundred yards, then widened again. The left bank, going upstream, was +lined with scrub and swamp grass. The right bank began to change, the +swampy area giving way to good ground that rose slightly from the +water's edge. Soon the right bank was nearly three feet above the water, +and the scrub had given way to an occasional tree, and some grassland +that hadn't been mowed this year. + +Then Calvert's Favor came into view and Rick caught his breath. It was a +stunning plantation house. The tall columns made Rick think of pictures +of the Old South, but as the boat turned slightly and more of the house +came into view, he saw that it had a strictly Maryland character. +Attached to the largest portion of the house, the one with the columns, +was a slightly smaller section, with a still smaller section completing +the picture. It was a "telescope house"--the kind that the Eastern Shore +natives referred to as "big house, little house, and one in the middle." + +A broad sweep of lawn, broken only by flagstone walks and trees, +extended from the creek's edge to the house. The trees were ancient +dogwoods, with a single huge willow for extra shade. There was a small +pier extending into the creek, and from the rotted pilings next to it, +Rick saw that the original pier had been much larger. + +A white barn stood at a short distance from the house. A barn of that +size, Rick thought, meant a pretty substantial farm. He searched for +signs of life and saw none. There was a boat, he noticed, an outboard +skiff perhaps fifteen feet long, pulled up on the bank under an oak tree +at the edge where the lawn met uncut field. A lawn table and chairs +under the big willow looked inviting, and he speculated that Merlin and +friends must spend considerable time there. Some of the chairs were of +the padded variety, covered with plastic wet from the morning dew. + +Scotty pointed to the roof of the mansion. "Must be a ham radio operator +there. Look at that hay rake." + +Both Rick and Steve had the same thoughts as they stared at the tall +antenna, with its cluster of small rods joining a single main bar at +right angles on top of the pole. The antenna might be needed for +fringe-area television--or, on the other hand, it might be a +communications antenna, as Scotty had said. + +"Looks interesting," Steve said. + +The creek flowed only a little distance past the mansion before it +became so narrow that Orvil Harris had to turn for the trip downstream. +As the crab boat came abreast of the mansion again, Rick looked to the +other side of the creek and saw the duck blind. It wasn't exactly +opposite the house, being designed so that gunners in the blind would +shoot diagonally across the creek and downstream, rather than near the +house itself. + +The blind was on stilts, made of board, with a big "picture window" +without glass through which duck hunters could fire freely. It was +designed for entry by boat, and there was a line of poles sticking up +from the water that marked the boat's docking place. In season, the +entire blind including the poles would be covered with a screen of fresh +foliage, so that hunters, blind, and boat would seem like a natural +object to any duck that flew by. + +Rick saw that the entrance, at the point where the boat would nose in, +was downstream from the mansion, at the back corner of the blind. Anyone +approaching from the swamp behind the blind could enter unseen from +Calvert's Favor. + +Not until they were back at the cove did any of them speak. + +"That antenna was odd," Steve said. "Did you ever see anything like it, +Rick?" + +"Not exactly," Rick admitted. "It could be for TV, although it's an +unusual design, or it could be some kind of ham rig, as Scotty said." + +"Or it could be something else," Steve concluded. + +"No sign of a flyin'-saucer launcher," Orvil Harris said. He was stoking +his battered brier. + +Rick grinned. "I wouldn't know one if I saw it." + +"Well, that wraps it up," Steve said. "Let's get aboard the runabout and +head home. I've got to make a plane." He shook hands with Orvil Harris. +"Glad to have met you after waving at you for so long." + +"Likewise. Now, you let me in on this if you can. I'm Link's only kin +hereabouts, so I feel responsible, so to speak. Call me up. I'm in the +phone book. I'll keep crabbin' in this creek until further notice, so +you can find me here until midmornin' any day." + +"We'll let you know if anything comes up," Rick agreed. + +Scotty borrowed a boat hook and pulled the runabout closer, then he +stepped to the forward deck while Steve and Rick got into the seat. +Scotty pulled up the grapnel while Steve started the motor. In a moment +they were waving to Harris as the runabout headed for home. + +It was full daylight now, and the rim of the sun was just above the +trees on the horizon. + +"Two items from the morning's work," Scotty summed up. "We know how the +mansion can be watched, and we have an odd kind of antenna. Anything +else?" + +"We have an ally," Rick reminded. "Orvil Harris." + +"We bought him on pure faith," Steve pointed out. "It isn't often I +stake the game on a man's face, but if Orvil Harris isn't a sound +individual, I'll lose my faith in human nature." + +Back at the farmhouse, Steve made fresh coffee and toast. While the boys +relaxed sleepily, he went to a closet and brought out a case and a +leather gadget bag. + +The boys sat up and watched while he opened the case. Rick gasped. It +was a telescope, a marvelously compact reflector type, precision made +and very expensive. Rick had often studied the ads of this particular +model, and he looked at it with some envy. He could hardly keep from +picking it up. + +Steve opened the gadget bag and brought out a Polaroid camera and set of +rings. Then he returned to the closet and brought back a sturdy tripod +with a geared head. + +"Here's the equipment," he said. He took the telescope from its padded +case, and screwed its base to the tripod, then he adjusted the tripod +until it was standing securely. + +"Watch this," he commanded. "You'll have to do it, because you can't +carry the whole thing assembled." + +Using the rings, which were adapters, he fitted the camera to the +eyepiece of the telescope. "That's all there is to it. You focus the +'scope eyepiece by turning this knurled knob. Then you set the camera to +infinity, adjust the iris for the proper light, and put the camera in +place. Any questions?" + +"What aperture?" Rick asked. "Normal exposure?" + +"Make it one f-stop less than you'd use if you were taking the picture +through a regular camera with a long lens. Anything else?" + +Scotty grinned. "It's pointless to ask what you want us to do with this. +We're to get pictures of that antenna--from the duck blind." + +"Plus anything else that looks interesting, including the occupants," +Rick added. + +Steve spread his hands in an expressive gesture. "What more could an +instructor want than students who know the answers before the questions +are asked? I won't even tell you to be careful, because I know you +will." + +"We will," Rick assured him. + +"All right. Listen, boys, we have no idea what we're up against, but we +do have some facts." Steve ticked them off on his fingers. "One, flying +objects originate at the mansion. There's no other place on the creek +that seems likely. Two, the house is inhabited by a man who doesn't like +questions. Three, said man has a bodyguard who gets rough. Four, one man +already is missing, perhaps because he got curious. Enough said?" + +The boys nodded soberly. + +"Then go to it, whenever you feel like it--after you've dropped me at +the airport, that is. Be here by four this afternoon. If I don't call, +meet the five-o'clock flight. If I do, it will mean I've gotten tied +up." + +Steve hesitated. "Just one more thing. Be _really_ careful. All I have +is a hunch, but that hunch tells me we're up against something +dangerous. If Link Harris is dead, as he probably is, there's a fair +chance he was murdered." + +The agent's keen eyes met theirs in turn. "Don't get into a spot you +can't get out of," he concluded. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +The Duck Blind + + +Orvil Harris had described the opening to the hidden waterway, but when +the boys examined the line of reeds and marsh grass there was no sign of +it. "He said thirty yards downstream," Scotty remembered. + +Rick was at the wheel of the runabout. "Climb out on the bow," he +suggested. "Take the boat hook with you. I'll just keep nosing in until +we find it." + +"Okay." Scotty took the short, aluminum boat hook from its fastenings in +the small cockpit, stood up on the seat, and stepped over the windshield +to the bow. For a moment he surveyed the shoreline from his higher +vantage point. "There's a place that looks promising." He held the boat +hook out like a spear, pointing. + +Rick put the runabout in gear, and moved forward at idling speed. +Looking over the side, he could see the bottom clearly. They were in +only two feet of water, and the outboard was stirring up mud at the +stern. + +"No good," Scotty called. "That one doesn't go anywhere. Try upstream +another six feet." + +Rick turned the boat, watching for the opening Scotty had spotted. He +saw it a moment later. "Looks too small," he called back. + +"I think it opens up. Go ahead slow." + +The runabout nosed up to the almost solid line of tall swamp grass, and +Scotty leaned forward. "I think this is it. Take it easy." + +The heavy grass rubbed on both sides of the boat, but nothing impeded +its progress. The runabout pushed through the brown-green swale until it +was almost enclosed by the grass. Then they were through, into a narrow +channel with high grass on both sides. It was hard for Rick to see ahead +because of the turns, and Scotty served as his eyes, motioning from one +side to the other as the channel shifted. + +Rick wondered if the sound of the outboard motor could be heard at the +mansion, and decided it probably could not. The heavy marsh grass was a +good sound baffle and the motor was relatively quiet. He leaned out, +trying to see ahead. There were many birds in the swamp, and next to the +boat a surprised snapping turtle looked up briefly, then scurried into +the mud for cover. + +The channel was narrowing now. Scotty looked back and drew his hand +across his throat in the old signal to "cut." Rick instantly killed the +motor. + +"I'll pole us," Scotty said softly. He began using the boat hook as a +pole, digging it into the bank and pulling the runabout ahead. Finally +he stopped, and wiped sweat from his face. "This is about as far as we +can go." + +Rick took a swipe at a black fly that bit him on the arm. "Okay. Let's +collect the gear and get started." + +Scotty tied the boat to a projecting root while Rick took the equipment +from its place under the seat and put it within reach on the forward +deck, then jumped ashore. His feet hit apparently solid ground, but kept +right on going down into a foot of ooze. + +He lifted one foot that was a black blob of mud, tried to locate more +solid footing on which to place it, and gave it up as a bad job. He +leaned over and took the telescope case and tripod. + +Scotty picked up the Polaroid camera and their binoculars and came +ashore, sinking into the swamp as Rick had done. He grinned wryly. +"We're up to our knees in this mystery already." + +Rick lifted a foot with five pounds of mud clinging to it. "If we get in +it up to our hips, we'll have a fine time getting out. How far do you +think it is to the duck blind?" + +"Maybe twenty-five yards. Not much more than that, maybe less. Come on." + +Slowly, because of the need to haul each foot out of the mud, the boys +started through the swale. The marsh grass was over their heads, forming +a thick screen. The grass, however, was no handicap to the biting flies. +Within a few seconds each boy was carrying equipment in one hand, using +the other to fight off the swarms. An occasional mosquito added to their +discomfort. + +The muddy ooze thinned, then gave way to higher ground. The marsh grass +was less thick and there was an occasional clump of willow. Rick studied +the terrain ahead, and in a moment caught sight of dark-green foliage +among the brown tips of swamp grass. In a few more feet he made out the +tops of trees, and then the glint of sunlight on the aluminum of the +antenna they had come to photograph. + +Scotty had seen it, too. He stopped and the boys consulted. + +"We're about twenty yards too far upstream," Scotty guessed. + +Rick estimated as best he could. "I think you're right. Let's stay on +high ground and head downstream a little. We must be almost there." + +Scotty turned and Rick followed, waving uselessly at the cloud of +insects. He was grateful for the advice Steve had given them to wear +long trousers and long-sleeved shirts. If they had been wearing shorts, +the insects would have had free access to several square feet of bare +hide. + +Both boys counted steps automatically, and after twenty paces +downstream, Scotty turned toward the mansion once more. They pushed +through the tall grass into thick mud, then into water with a deep muddy +bottom. A few more steps and the grass thinned. Scotty stopped and +motioned Rick back. They moved sideways, then forward again, and emerged +with the duck blind between them and Calvert's Favor. + +Rick thought to himself that it had been pretty good navigation, +considering that most of the journey had been blind, in grass over their +heads. Apparently Scotty thought so, too. He turned and gave Rick a big +grin, then headed for the rear of the duck blind. + +The water deepened, washing off some of the mud. Rick reached down and +splashed a handful on his face. It was warm. He saw a wet black head +emerge from under the duck blind and speed for shore. It was a startled +water rat. Alerted by the small splash of their coming, the rodent +decided to take better cover. Then they were at the corner of the blind +where the entrance was located. + +The floor of the blind was level with their chests. Rick looked in. +There wasn't much space, since the blind had been built to provide only +a place for hunters to sit, wait, and then shoot from kneeling or +sitting positions. + +Both boys put their equipment on the dry wooden floor. Then Rick swung +himself up and pushed the equipment back to make room for Scotty. For a +moment they sat on the floor, resting. Coming through the swamp had been +exhausting work. + +After a few moments' rest, Rick moved to the side of the duck blind and +found a small opening, a square window about six inches on a side, that +had apparently been made to give the hunters a view in that direction. +The opening was near the forward, upstream corner, and it looked out on +Calvert's Favor. + +Merlin the mysterious and his two close companions were sitting under +the willow tree enjoying something liquid from tall glasses. As Rick +watched, a fourth man, evidently a servant, brought a tray on which a +silver pitcher rested. The boy could see the trickles of water cascading +down the outside, and knew they were caused by moisture condensing on +the cold metal of the pitcher. He moistened his lips. A fine pair of +dunderheads, he and Scotty were. They had come without even a canteen of +water. + +"Easy shot," he whispered to Scotty. "Let's set up and take the +pictures, then get out of here. I'm getting thirsty just watching them." + +Scotty adjusted the tripod, while Rick took the telescope out of its +case with reverent hands. It was a beautiful and delicate piece of +equipment, Steve's personal property, and he appreciated the trust the +agent had placed in them by allowing its use. He fitted the instrument +to the mounting screw on the tripod, then aimed it through the six-inch +window. When he squinted through the eyepiece, he saw only willow +branches, but, by keeping his eye in place and cranking the geared +tripod head, he quickly aligned the telescope with the trio under the +willow. + +[Illustration: _Scotty fitted the camera to the telescope_] + +The telescope had a fixed focus, and was designed for looking at stars. +Consequently, the field of vision was extremely narrow at the short +distance across the water, and Rick could only manage to get Merlin and +his small, insignificant-looking companion into the frame. What's more, +they were upside down, as is common in reflecting telescopes. The boy +knew there was an erecting prism in the case, a device that would put +the image upright, but it couldn't be used with the camera. Anyway, it +wouldn't matter, since the print could be turned over. + +He studied the faces in the upside-down position. The telescope gave him +an even better close-up than at the restaurant. Again he groped for the +identity of the white-haired man, but it eluded him. + +Scotty tapped him on the shoulder and motioned that the camera was +ready. Rick moved aside and his pal quickly fitted the camera to the +telescope and tightened the mounting rings. Rick nodded to indicate that +the telescope was on target, and Scotty tripped the camera. + +The advantage of the Polaroid camera is that the picture can be seen +within seconds. Scotty quickly went through the simple routine, and +within a quarter of a minute the boys were looking at the photo. It was +an excellent close-up, but a trifle dark. Scotty opened the iris on the +camera another stop and Rick rechecked the alignment. Scotty snapped the +picture and processed it. This time it was perfect, only slightly hazy +because of the rising heat waves across the hundred yards of distance. + +Rick readjusted the telescope for a full view of the third man. His +picture was added to the others. Scotty wiped both with fixative and put +them on the floor to dry. + +The antenna was next. Rick focused on it without difficulty, but the +field of view was so narrow that he couldn't see all of it. They would +have to photograph it in two sections, then fit the prints together. + +Five minutes after their arrival at the duck blind, they were back in +the swamp, the pictures protected in a plastic bread wrapper Rick had +brought. They cut directly across the swamp and emerged, hot, sticky, +and dirty, only a few yards from the boat. They stowed the equipment +wordlessly, then poled backwards into the wider channel. It was too +narrow to turn, so Rick started the motor and backed out with great +caution. + +Once in the clear, they headed at top speed for Steve's, tied up at the +pier, and plunged into the water without even bothering to remove their +clothes. Their only precaution was to empty their pockets. + +Rick luxuriated in the coolness of clean water, then stripped to his +undershorts and threw his sodden clothes onto the pier. Only when he was +sure he had washed off the last of the clinging mud did he pull himself +up to the houseboat cockpit, Scotty following. + +They toweled and put on clean clothes, then carried the equipment back +to the farmhouse. Two bottles of Coke apiece from the refrigerator had +them feeling normal again. Over the last one, they studied the photos. + +"I don't think we've ever known Merlin," Rick said thoughtfully. "We've +seen him, but we don't know him." + +Scotty scratched a mosquito bite. "Think he might be some kind of public +figure?" + +Rick looked up sharply. "I think you hit it! If that's true, we should +be able to get him identified easily." + +"Steve could do it through JANIG," Scotty suggested. + +"It would take too long. He won't be home until tonight, and the picture +wouldn't reach JANIG until tomorrow. Then it would take a day to check +it out." + +"Are we in a hurry?" Scotty asked. + +Rick chuckled. "I am. But don't ask me why. Look, I'll bet Duke or Jerry +could identify it by going through the newspaper morgue." Their +newspaper friends were owner-editor and reporter for the Whiteside paper +back home. + +"They're on vacation," Scotty reminded him. Once each year, the paper +was turned over to a friend of Duke's, a former newspaperman turned +professor of journalism, who used the occasion to give some of his +students practical experience. + +That was true, Rick remembered. Neither Duke nor Jerry would be +available. Who else did they know who could help? Suddenly he snapped +his fingers. "I've got it! Ken Holt would help, if we could get the +picture to him." + +Ken Holt, the young newsman whose adventures were favorite reading for +Rick and Scotty, had once asked Spindrift for help, and Rick had given +him a set of pocket-size radio transceivers of the kind known as "The +Megabuck Network." + +"Sandy Allen is a photographer," Scotty pointed out. "He might know +these people." + +Rick took a chair next to the telephone and dialed the operator. "A +person-to-person call," he stated, "to Mr. Ken Holt, at the _Brentwood +Advance_, Brentwood, New Jersey." He put his hand over the mouthpiece. +"Let's hope he and Sandy aren't off on an assignment somewhere." + +Luck was on their side. Ken Holt was in, and he was delighted to be of +help. "Put the picture in the mail," the young reporter suggested. "If +you make it airmail, special delivery, we'll have it first thing in the +morning. With luck, we might even get it tonight. We'll phone you as +soon as we have an identification. Incidentally, the Megabuck units +worked like a charm, as I told you when I wrote. Thanks a lot." + +"Glad they were helpful," Rick replied. "We'll hurry to town and get the +picture in the mail right away." + +He hung up and nodded at Scotty. "We'll get the picture ready, and take +it to town when we go to pick Steve up. If we're a little early, the +letter probably will go out on the early evening plane to Washington." + +Scotty nodded. "What time is it?" + +Rick glanced at his watch. "Nearly three. We'll be ready to take off as +soon as Steve calls, or doesn't." + +"If he calls, that means he won't be back," Scotty reminded. + +"No matter. We'll go to town anyway, and have an early dinner." + +Rick had envelopes and letter paper on the houseboat. He wrote a brief +note to Ken, addressed the envelope, and printed AIRMAIL SPECIAL +DELIVERY on both sides, then enclosed the best picture of Merlin and +sealed it. Scotty spent the time on a small repair job, taping up the +neoprene gasoline hoses that carried fuel to the houseboat motors. By +the time he was finished, it was nearly four. The boys went into the +house to wait. + +Steve called on the dot of four. "Rick? ... Steve. I'm sorry, fellow. I +have a little more to do on this case, and I'll have to stay over. +Everything going all right?" + +Rick briefed him quickly on the day's events and Steve replied, "It +takes about half an hour for a letter to make the early evening plane. +Allow enough time." + +"We will," Rick assured him. "Anything new on the sighting data?" + +"Not yet. I sent the cards to the computing center, but they won't have +time to run the data through until tomorrow or the next day. Make +yourselves at home, and don't spend all your time on flying stingarees. +Get in some fishing and swimming." + +Rick assured him that they were enjoying the vacation and would try to +get in some fishing. He hung up and turned to Scotty. + +"He'll be in tomorrow on the same plane. He wants us to get in some +fishing." + +Scotty chuckled. "I thought he knew you better than that. Give you a +mystery to chew on and there's no room for anything else in that thick +Brantish skull." + +"We'll solve this one," Rick said confidently. "Then we'll fish." + +Scotty just grinned. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +Ken Holt Comes Through + + +Somewhere in the oak trees across the creek a cardinal sang his lovely +evening song. An osprey, etched in black against the dark blue of the +sky, whirled in lazy circles watching the water below. A muskrat +appeared briefly, his sleek head making a V of ripples in the calm +water. + +Rick and Scotty, sprawled comfortably in beach chairs on the lawn in +front of Steve's house, sipped the last of their iced tea, and watched +the movements and listened to the sounds in companionable silence. Both +boys, admitting that, for the immediate present, they were slightly +overdosed with rich food, had agreed to settle for a sandwich and iced +tea. A brief stop at a store en route back from the post office had +provided the necessities. + +Rick was physically relaxed, but mentally active. It was characteristic +of him that he never let go of a puzzle until he had found a solution, +or had tried all possibilities and been forced to admit defeat. He was a +long way from defeat at the moment. The case of the flying stingaree was +just getting interesting. + +"What are the flying stingarees?" he asked quietly. + +Scotty shifted position in his chair and looked at Rick quizzically. +"You don't expect an answer. But I can tell you a few things they are +not." + +"Tell away," Rick urged. + +"They are not flying saucers, aircraft, kites, sting rays, birds, fish, +or good red herrings. Beyond that, deponent sayeth not, as the legal +boys say." + +"Uh-huh. And why are they not flying saucers?" + +"For the same reason they're not aircraft. If you recall all the talks +with people who've seen them, they don't maneuver, and they don't travel +very fast. They appear--or they're noticed, let's say--and they just get +smaller and smaller until they vanish. They move, but not much." + +Rick nodded. "The circle we drew around all the sightings doesn't cover +a very large territory. All the sightings have been within that circle. +People had to look toward Swamp Creek to see the objects. Yet, they did +something interesting. They grew smaller. What makes things seem to grow +smaller?" + +"Apparent size decreases with distance," Scotty replied promptly. + +"Sure. And how do you get distance, when the sightings are all within a +circle only a few miles in diameter?" + +"Only one way. With altitude. The things had to be going up." + +Rick agreed. "That's how I figure it, too. It also explains why the +circle of sightings is so small. Above a certain altitude, the objects +are no longer visible. Or they're not so visible that they attract +attention. I suppose we could work out some calculations. How large an +object can be seen readily at what distance? Then we could apply a +little trigonometry and figure their size." + +"We could," Scotty agreed, "but do we need to? Let's assume the object +you saw was typical. How big was it?" + +Rick thought it over. He had had only a quick glimpse, and the +background had been the gray of the storm. His vision had been obscured +because of the rain. "Maximum of ten feet across and maybe eight tall. +It was probably less." + +"Okay. So the reason sightings are confined to this area is because the +objects are fairly small. When people see them, they're relatively +close, and fairly low. Even the small planes that fly from the airfield +are much bigger than the flying stingarees, but when the planes go over +at about five thousand feet, they seem tiny. At that altitude the flying +stingarees must be at the limit of really good visibility." + +"I read you loud and clear. So the objects are sent from Calvert's +Favor, and they climb. They don't climb straight up, though. The wind +carries them. The reason I think so is that the one I saw must have been +driven by the wind, right down the creek toward me. It didn't climb +until it got away from the funneling effect of the creek and into the +river, then it went up pretty fast. At least it seemed to have risen +fast when I looked over the top of the boat at it." + +Scotty crunched an ice cube. "We're getting somewhere. There's only one +kind of unpowered, vertical rising thing I know of. Are you with me?" + +Rick finished his drink. "Balloon," he said crisply. + +"On the beam," Scotty approved. "The only thing that doesn't fit is the +shape." + +Rick asked, "What's a balloon? It's just a gas-tight container. We're +used to thinking of balloons as spheres, because it's the most efficient +shape for internal pressure. But a balloon can be any shape. Another +thing--balloons for high altitudes aren't fully inflated on the ground. +Maybe the flying stingarees have a different shape when they get higher +and in less dense atmosphere where the gas distends them." + +"An odd shape could be used as camouflage, too, if you didn't want +people to recognize the balloon. But why would a strange assortment of +characters like Merlin and company send up balloons?" Scotty wondered. + +Rick smiled. "I've been wondering that myself. Would they send up a +balloon that didn't carry something?" + +"I don't know. Was the one you saw carrying anything?" + +Rick sat upright. "Maybe it was! You know, I haven't even thought of it +since then, but I think there was a splash when it went by. Something +sort of clanged off the rail over me, even if it didn't dent the rail. +Do you suppose the thing dropped its payload right next to us?" + +"You'll have to decide that," Scotty said. "If you heard something +bounce off the rail, then a splash, I'd say there might be a pretty good +chance that's what happened. I couldn't see any marks on the rail when +we looked." They had checked the rail during the first day at Steve's. + +Rick closed his eyes and made himself remember what it had been like +when he went down the catwalk to the bow. His mind drew a picture, and +he saw himself bent forward into the wind. In his memory he felt the +slashing rain, the slipperiness of the wet anchor line. He could +visualize the water whipped into dimpled wavelets by wind and rain. He +saw the flying stingaree loom, and saw himself dropping flat. There had +been a clang as something hard hit the rail! There _had_ been a splash! + +He went over it again, searching his memory for details he had forgotten +or which had only registered vaguely at the time. He studied the shape +and texture of the object he had seen so briefly. He saw its red eyes +open and glare at him, saw the extended claws reaching.... + +He came out of his chair with a yell, arms extended to defend himself. + +Scotty stood next to him in the darkness. "Hey, take it easy, Rick! I +didn't think I'd startle you so when I shook you." + +Rick stared. "Did I fall asleep? I must have. I was trying to remember, +and suddenly I was dreaming about red eyes and claws--" + +Scotty laughed softly. "If you've got to have nightmares, at least do it +in comfort. Let's go to the boat and go to bed." + +Rick dreamed no more of the flying stingarees. In the morning he +couldn't have said what his dreams had been about, except that they had +been pleasant. + +In the bright glare of morning, the whole thing seemed dreamlike. It was +preposterous to imagine that flying objects, probably balloons shaped +like stingarees, were launched from a famous mansion that dated back to +the days of the early Maryland colony. But the sighting data couldn't be +ignored. Dreamlike or not, something strange was going on at Calvert's +Favor. + +The boys breakfasted in the farmhouse, reducing Steve's supply of eggs +substantially and wiping out the bacon reserve. "We'll have to shop +sometime today," Rick observed. "Steve has plenty of food here, but we +don't want to use it when there's a store so close." + +"Sure," Scotty agreed. "But when? It may have to wait until we go after +Steve. We can't very well leave the house, or at least both of us can't. +Ken Holt might call." + +Rick nodded and poured himself a cup of coffee. He had thought of that. +They had to give Ken time to get the picture and check it out. By the +latest, they should hear before noon--unless the job turned out to be +very difficult. That would leave four hours before they would have to +leave the house to pick up Steve. Four hours was time enough for the +investigation Rick had in mind. + +After breakfast they settled down with the data sheets and notebook to +review them once more. But only one additional fact emerged. Two people +thought, but weren't absolutely sure, that they had seen a spurt of fire +from the flying stingarees. Rick wondered if they had seen a sudden +flare of sunlight from some highly reflective part of the object. + +It was two minutes before nine when the phone rang. Both boys jumped, +but Rick got there first. "Hello?" + +"Rick? ... This is Ken. Why don't you give us something hard to do? The +envelope arrived three minutes ago, and I was just taking the picture +out when Sandy walked in. He took one look and asked what I was doing +with a snapshot of Lefty Camillion. The hair is white and the mustache +is gone, but it's Lefty." + +Rick gasped. "My sainted aunt! Of course! I should have known it +myself." + +"There's more. Sandy recognized Lefty's small friend too. This is an odd +one, Rick. The man is Dr. Elbert K. Drews. He was fired six months ago +by Space Electronics Industries. It was a big story for us, because the +plant is located in the next town. The reason he was fired came out +during the monopoly investigations. Turned out he had been selling the +firm's industrial secrets to its competitors. It was a shock, because he +had such a big reputation as an electronics wizard. He got some kind of +national prize a year ago for developing a new high-speed system for +something. Let's see--here's my note. It says, 'Dr. Drews was the +originator of a new and unusual system for the rapid telemetry of data +from space. The system is considered remarkable for its compactness and +speed of operation. The ground installation is scarcely larger than a +console-model television set.' Hope that means something to you, Rick." + +"Thanks a million, Ken. It seems to fit, but I'm not sure how." + +"Let us know if you find out. And if we can do anything else, you know +the phone number." + +"We'll call if anything comes up. Thanks again, Ken." + +Rick hung up and stared at the phone thoughtfully, trying to fit this +new information into the scheme of things. Scotty had been sitting on +the edge of his chair since the conversation started. He said, with some +exasperation, "Well? Out with it!" + +"Mr. Merlin is Lefty Camillion. His pal is an electronics wizard who was +fired by Space Electronics Industries for selling industrial secrets to +the firm's competitors." Rick rapidly sketched in the rest of the +conversation. + +Scotty sank back into his chair. "His hair was black, and now it's +white. He must have been keeping it dyed, and decided to go natural. And +he shaved off that mustache. Probably that was dyed black, too." + +"You're right." Rick shook his head in dismay. Lefty Camillion, whose +first name was Thomas, was a notorious crime syndicate leader who had +come into prominence about two years ago during Senate investigations of +racketeering. In three days Camillion had become a television +personality, of sorts, when it became clear that he apparently was +responsible for a number of murders and a thousand lesser crimes, +although he himself had not done the actual killings. There was +insufficient evidence to jail him, but enough to deport him. He dropped +out of sight while his lawyers were fighting the deportation +proceedings. Now he had shown up again, on the Eastern Shore. + +"A crime syndicate chief, a crooked scientist, flying stingarees, an old +mansion, a peculiar antenna, and a missing crabber. What does it add up +to?" Rick demanded. + +Scotty shrugged. He didn't answer. There was no answer--yet. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +On the Bottom + + +There were three wooden cases stored in the full-length closet in the +houseboat cabin. Rick and Scotty took the two bulkiest to the cockpit +and opened them to disclose full skin-diving equipment. The boys had +made the cases themselves, to be carried like suitcases. Each held a +single air tank, regulator, mask, fins, snorkel, underwater watch, depth +gauge, weight belt, equipment belt, and knife. The third case contained +spears and spear guns, but they wouldn't need those in searching for the +object that had splashed near the houseboat. + +While Rick checked the equipment, made sure there was sufficient air in +the tanks, and put on the regulators, Scotty searched for a heavy stake +and something with which to drive it. He found a sledge hammer in +Steve's workshop. At the edge of the woods was a pile of saplings that +had been cut to make a fence. He chose a sapling that would serve as a +stake and took it back to the boat. + +One of the spare lines that the houseboat carried was quarter-inch +nylon. Scotty fastened one end of the small rope to the sapling, about +halfway up, and secured it with a timber hitch. Then he wound the rope +on the sapling as smoothly as possible. + +Rick finished checking the equipment and announced that he was ready. + +"Same here," Scotty replied. "Let's get into swim trunks." + +As the two changed, Rick asked, "Suppose we find something, but can't +get it up without help? How do we mark the place?" + +Scotty paused. Normally they would simply attach a line to a float and +secure the float to the object. But a float would attract attention. +"Take bearings?" + +Rick shook his head. "The boat will be swinging at anchor. It might be +hard to get good bearings. Would a piece of fish line work? We could tie +it to the object, carry it to the shore, and secure it to something +underwater. The line would sink. Later, we could just drag until we +caught the line." + +"It would work," Scotty agreed. "There's a new spool of heavy line on +the shelf in the closet. Fifty yards. That should do." + +"Especially since the most we would need is fifty feet," Rick agreed. +"I'll stick it in a belt pocket, just in case." + +Back on deck, Rick started the houseboat's outboard motors and listened +critically. They were operating smoothly. Scotty walked up the pier and +untied the bowline. At Rick's signal, he stepped aboard on the foredeck, +bringing the line with him. Rick cast off the stern line, pushed the +houseboat away from the pier, then put the motors in gear. + +The trip to Swamp Creek was a familiar one now. Rick cut corners, +knowing he had enough water under the keel, heading directly for the +creek entrance. Scotty came back to the cockpit and joined him. + +"Do you suppose Orvil Harris will be around?" + +Rick shrugged. "It's pretty late for a crabber. He's probably gone by +now." + +"I wonder if he'll ever see any flying stingarees come out of the +creek." + +Rick shook his head. "Most of the sightings are in the late morning or +late afternoon. Only a couple were around dawn." + +While the houseboat moved across the Little Choptank, Scotty checked the +tide tables. He reported that the tide was coming in. It was about one +hour from high tide. Rick had been studying the chart. "No problem," he +said. "Mean low water averages four feet in the cove, with seven feet in +the middle. Think your stake will be long enough?" + +Scotty had placed the sapling with its winding of rope on the cabin top. +He estimated its length again. "Depends on how deep the mud is. If it's +more than three feet, the top of the stake will be under water." + +"Three feet is a lot of mud," Rick said. "It's likely a lot less than +that." + +He turned into the creek mouth, throttling back. It would be hard to +anchor precisely where the houseboat had been anchored that first night, +but he was sure they could find the spot within twenty feet. Scotty went +up on the bow and got the anchor ready. + +"Use about thirty feet of line," Rick called. He took the houseboat to +the exact center of the cove, as closely as he could estimate, then put +the motors in reverse to kill the speed. When it fell to zero, he yelled +to Scotty. Scotty lowered the anchor and made it fast, then hurried back +to join Rick, who backed off until he felt the anchor dig in. + +It was silent in the cove with the motors off. "I'll start," Rick +offered, and at Scotty's nod he picked up his Scuba and slipped into the +harness. His weight belt was next, then his fins. Finally he slipped the +mask strap over his head, and put the mouthpiece in place. He took a +couple of breaths to make sure he was getting air, then walked to the +edge of the cockpit and fell backward into the water, letting his tank +take the shock of landing. He slipped the mask off, took the mouthpiece +out, and spat into the mask to prevent fogging, then he rinsed it, put +it on, and replaced the mouthpiece. + +Scotty had taken the sapling from the cabin top. He handed it to Rick, +who dove with it, thrusting the sharpened end into the mud far enough so +that the sapling stayed in place. + +Rick surfaced again and swam to the boat, which had drifted a few feet. +Catching the leg of one motor, he pulled the boat back to where the +sapling projected above the surface. He held the boat in position while +Scotty took the sledge and drove the sapling down until its top was only +a few inches above the water. Rick tested the pole. It was firm. + +He removed the mouthpiece, treading water. "Looks okay. I'm going to +start." + +"Good luck," Scotty called. + +Rick submerged and swam down, using the pole as a guide. The rope, +attached to the pole, was perhaps two feet above the bottom. He freed +the end of the rope, unwound a few feet, slipped the end through his +belt, and secured it with a slip knot. Then, hands extended, he began +the slow work of covering the cove bottom inch by inch, searching for +the thing that had splashed. + +The boy swam in an ever-widening circle, the rope unwinding from the +sapling as he moved. The unwinding of the line, which he kept taut, +ensured that he would cover new ground each time he rounded the pole, +but without missing any. He couldn't see, because his hands stirred up +mud as he traveled. Only his sense of touch told him what was on the +bottom. He wasn't afraid of grabbing a crab or an eel. All underwater +creatures with any mobility at all get out of the way as fast as +possible. He knew the compression wave caused by his movement would warn +all living creatures. + +His groping hands identified various pieces of wood, all natural, and +assorted other objects including an old tire. There were cans, some of +them food tins that had been opened, and some beverage cans, +recognizable because of their triangular openings. Once he found a +section of fishing pole. + +It was a long, tedious job. The world closed in on Rick and there was +only the murk outside his mask and the rhythmic sound of his own +breathing. Only his hands, constantly probing the mud, were in touch +with reality. He lost all sense of time. Once, to see how much ground he +had covered, he pulled himself to the pole by the line, estimating his +distance. He was about fifteen feet from his starting point. He returned +to the full extent of the line and started the round again, after +looking at his watch. He had to hold it close to see the dial through +the murk. He had been down only twenty minutes, although the time seemed +much longer. + +Ten minutes later his hand swept over something smooth. Instantly he +turned in toward the pole, and swam back around the circle for perhaps +ten feet. Then, covering the ground again by crawling along the bottom, +he felt for the object. His fingers touched it. His first impression was +of something cylindrical, but he made no attempt to pick it up. He +needed to explore it thoroughly, first. His breathing was faster, and he +knew his pulse had accelerated at the moment of discovery. If this +continued, he would use air too fast. He willed himself to slow his +breathing, and for a few seconds he stopped altogether. + +In that instant, Rick heard a slap on the water, then another. He +waited, holding his breath. There was a pause, then more gentle slaps. +He counted them. + +One, two, three, four--the signal for danger! + +He and Scotty had long ago agreed that four sounds underwater would be +the danger signal. He reacted instantly. The fishing line was in a +pocket on his equipment belt. He took it out and pulled line from the +spool. Then, probing deeply with one hand, he pushed the line under the +smooth object, reached across and down with the other hand. When his +hands met, he passed the line from one to the other and pulled the line +through. Now it was around the object. He tied the line quickly, then +rolled over on his back and looked upward at the surface. He could gauge +the position of the sun, even though he could see no details. Using the +rays filtering through the murk as a guide, he oriented himself. + +"Which bank?" He thought quickly. Danger could only come from the +mansion, and that was on the south bank. He turned and swam north, going +slowly, paying out line from the spool. Now that he was traveling in a +straight line, he covered the bottom quickly, and in less than a minute +he was in shallow water. He stopped, afraid that his tank would show +above the surface. + +It was clearer in the shallows. He made out the line of a branch, or +root of some kind that thrust its way through the surface. It would +serve. Quickly he passed the spool around it and made a knot, then he +pushed the spool itself into the mud and turned. + +Now to find the boat again. Cruising slowly, he headed in the general +direction, rising slightly as he swam. Finally, he found the boat by its +shadow and swam under it to the stern. Again orienting himself by the +sun, he made sure that the boat would be between him and the south bank. +He surfaced and pulled off his mask. + +Scotty was swabbing the deck of the cockpit as casually as though +trouble was the last thing on his mind. Rick wondered briefly if he had +imagined the danger signal, or had mistaken some other sound for a +signal. Then Scotty hailed him. + +"Where are all the clams?" + +Rick's mind raced. Obviously someone was listening. Was the someone on +the boat, or ashore? + +"I only found one," he called back. "I don't believe there are enough in +this cove to bother about, no matter what those fishermen said." + +"Did you dig deep enough?" Scotty asked. + +"As deep as I could without a shovel. The mud is two feet thick down +there." + +"Well, you might as well come aboard. I guess if we're going to have +clam chowder, we'll have to buy clams from a commercial boat." + +Scotty wouldn't invite him aboard if there was any danger, Rick knew. He +accepted the hand Scotty held down and got aboard. + +He surveyed the situation quickly. There was no sign of any danger. + +"Pretty murky down there?" Scotty asked. + +"Like swimming in ink." + +"We'll try again out in deep water. It should be clear near the river +mouth." + +"Suits me," Rick said. "I never did think we'd find clams in this cove. +The mano boats dredge in deeper water than this." + +"Maybe the fishermen didn't want us stirring things up where they clam. +Come on in and I'll fix you some coffee. I made it while you were down +below." + +"Okay." + +Once inside the cabin, Scotty said softly, "Two men. On the shore. One +is the bodyguard. I've never seen the other one before. Both of them +have rifles." + +Rick considered. "They couldn't possibly know the thing--whatever it +is--dropped in the water here. Or could they?" + +"I don't know. Anyway, they're suspicious. Did you find anything?" + +"Just as you signaled. How did you signal, by the way?" + +"With the mop pail. Four taps with the bottom on the water surface. Then +I filled the pail and began swabbing down." + +Rick nodded. "I don't know what I found. A cylinder, maybe two inches in +diameter, maybe less. Smooth. I got the fish line around it and carried +the line to the shore. We'll have to come back later." + +"We certainly will." Scotty's eyes sparkled. "But for now, let's up +anchor and get out of here." + +"How about the stake with the rope on it?" + +"The tide's still coming in. It will be completely under the water at +high tide. We'll have to avoid it, and warn Harris if we don't get back +tonight." + +An idea was beginning to form in Rick's mind. "Okay," he said. "Let's +get going." + +Within minutes the houseboat was on its way out of the cove, the two +boys acting normally, as though no one was observing their departure. +Rick saw no one on shore, and not until they were sunward from the cove +entrance did he see the sparkle of sunlight on binocular lenses. Scotty +had been right, as usual. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +Night Recovery + + +On the way back from the airport, Steve Ames listened intently to the +report of the day's activities, but delayed comment until supplies had +been purchased, and a dozen eggs turned into an omelet that a French +chef might have praised. + +Rick was eager to discuss the whole affair with Steve, but the young +agent was adroit at fending off questions without being rude, and +finally the boy gave up. + +Over after-dinner coffee, Steve smiled at both of them. "End of today's +lesson in patience, which is one virtue neither of you has developed +sufficiently. Okay, where are those two pictures?" + +Scotty whipped them from the breast pocket of his shirt and handed them +over without comment. Steve studied them for long minutes, then went to +a table and took a magnifying glass from the table drawer. He placed the +pictures directly under a lamp and studied them with the aid of the +magnifier. + +"It _is_ Thomas Camillion," he said finally. "Your friend Sandy Allen +has a sharp eye. I wouldn't have known him, either." + +That surprised Rick. Steve had never met the owner of Calvert's Favor, +but because of Camillion's notorious reputation, Rick had been certain +that Steve would recognize him on sight. + +Steve saw the expression on Rick's face. He grinned. "You disappointed? +First of all, my knowledge of Camillion is not greater than yours. I've +never seen him in person, or had any reason to study him. Crime isn't +JANIG's business. Second, one expects to see a duck near water, or a +squirrel near a tree. Criminals are generally found near centers of +crime. They're not common in historic mansions, far from large +population centers, so one doesn't expect to find them there. My reasons +for not recognizing Camillion, without Allen's identification, are +exactly the same as yours." + +"It's just that we expect you to know everything," Scotty said +half-seriously. + +"Then I'm glad you're learning better. Joking aside, it's interesting +that Camillion should be here. It's even more interesting that his +sidekick is a crooked electronics engineer or scientist. When you add +flying stingarees to that combination, it totals up to something novel +in criminal ideas. But what?" + +"We thought you might have an idea," Rick prodded. + +"Yes and no," Steve said ambiguously. "What ideas do you have?" + +Rick stared at him accusingly. "Are you holding out on us? Do you know +something we don't?" + +"Not yet," Steve said, and grinned at their expressions. "I mean that +literally. I think I may possibly know something, but the evidence isn't +in yet. It's that computer run I mentioned. We should have the results +tomorrow." + +"All right," Rick said. He knew better than to push Steve for more +information. The agent went in for speculation only when it served a +purpose. With only a hint of evidence, he avoided guessing until the +evidence had been checked out. "We figured out that the flying +stingarees probably are balloons," Rick reported, recapitulating their +conclusions of the previous evening. + +Steve nodded approvingly. "Very good reasoning. Now connect up an +electronics crook, Camillion, and that peculiar antenna." + +"The balloons carry radio equipment," Scotty said promptly. "The antenna +picks up their signals." + +Steve nodded again. "That's reasonable. Now, why do the balloons carry +radio equipment? And why are they launched?" + +"We're like a dog chasing his tail," Rick said with a grin. "We're not +getting anywhere, but we're covering plenty of ground." + +"Maybe we are getting somewhere," Steve corrected. "You found something +today that may be the balloon payload. You also found out that people +from the mansion were interested in your activities, but didn't want to +be seen. It's obvious that the object you found must be recovered. +You've got a plan. I'm sure of it." + +"We do," Rick agreed. + +Scotty added, "First of all, we have to warn Orvil Harris. If he goes +crabbing in the middle of the night, he might foul a prop on the stake +we left there." + +"The people in the mansion can't be suspicious of Orvil," Rick went on. +"He goes crabbing there every day. They must be used to him by now. +Suppose we call him, to warn him about the stake, and to see if he'll +help out." + +"He'll be glad to help," Scotty said. + +"Help how?" Steve asked. "By providing cover?" + +Rick nodded. "Exactly. Scotty and I will suit up, so our skins won't +show at night, and have our Scuba equipment on. Harris could come by and +take the runabout in tow with us in it. We would drop off near the creek +entrance and push the runabout into the channel where it would be +hidden. Then we would swim into the cove and recover the object. With +two of us, it would be a cinch to find the fish line." + +"If the thing is too heavy to swim with," Scotty went on, "we'll hand it +into Orvil's boat. Of course we'll pull up the sapling and hand that to +Orvil. If the gadget is light, we'll swim back to the runabout with it, +push the runabout away from the cove into the river, and then get aboard +and come home." + +Rick concluded, "With Orvil's motor going, no one would hear our +bubbles." + +Steve had followed the plan carefully. "Fair enough," he agreed. "It's a +good plan. No one will see you enter the cove, and no one will see you +leave. There will be only Orvil Harris catching crabs as usual." + +Scotty spoke up. "We could make one change, Steve. You could be with us, +either in the water or in the runabout." + +Steve shook his head. "No thanks, Scotty. I have some business of my own +later tonight. You carry out your plan and I'll carry out mine." + +"Is your business connected with ours?" Rick asked. + +"Yes, but I'm going to follow a different line of investigation. If it +brings results, we'll compare notes at breakfast." + +"We could postpone recovery and help you tonight," Scotty suggested. + +Steve smiled warmly. "Thanks, but no thanks. What I have to do is for a +lone hand. Rick, you phone Orvil Harris and make arrangements." + +Rick consulted the telephone directory and turned to Steve. "Any chance +the line may be bugged?" + +"I doubt it. You might ask Orvil if he's on a party line, though. If he +is, be careful. If not, go ahead and talk." + +Orvil Harris had a private line, so Rick described their adventure in +the cove and asked for the crabber's help. Harris responded at once, as +the boys had known he would. + +"I'll come by at half past three. You hook on and I'll tow you to the +mouth of the creek, then you cut loose. We'll fix up the details when I +see you." + +Rick thanked him and hung up. "All set," he reported. "But we'll get +little sleep tonight." + +"It's only about eight," Steve pointed out. "You could go to bed right +away." He managed to say it with a straight face. + +"We could," Scotty agreed. "But we won't. How about a little television +tonight?" + +Steve waved a hand. "Take your pick. Medical drama, crime drama, western +drama." + +"The purpose of television drama," Rick declared, "is to provide an +escape from the real world into the world of fantasy. So no crime drama +for us because that's the real world. We will watch a medical-type +show." + +"Western," Scotty said. "Trot-trot, bang-bang." + +"Medical." Rick held out a hand dramatically. "Scalpel! Sponge! Quick, +nurse, tighten the frassen-stat! The patient is going into nurbeling +aspoxium!" + +"Western." Scotty crouched, hand curved at his thigh. "Make your play, +Brant!" + +"Medical." Rick tapped an imaginary stethoscope on his palm. "I regret +that you have all the symptoms of thickus headus, Mr. Scott." + +Steve held up both hands. "Whoa, Mr. Scott. You too, Dr. Brant. As the +only impartial participant, I will select. We will improve your minds by +finding a panel show about the problems of agriculture in Basutoland." + +The boys groaned. + +It turned out to be an entertaining TV evening, with one good show +following another, and the late show an exciting sea adventure filmed +many years before the boys were born, but one of their favorites from +other late-night movies. The three had no intention of staying up to +watch it, but lingered for the first reel--and were lost. + +It was the same with the late, late show, a horror movie so badly done +that it served as a new type of comedy. By this time, all were too tired +to go to bed, and by mutual consent, they watched the program to the +end, then rallied in the kitchen for sandwiches and coffee. + +By the time the boys had retired to the houseboat, checked their +equipment, and climbed into diving suits of black neoprene with helmets +and socks, Orvil Harris was coming down the creek. + +Scotty checked the runabout outboard to make sure it would start easily +and that there was plenty of gas, while Rick put their tanks and +regulators aboard. Then, with a final farewell to Steve, the boys got +aboard Orvil's boat, secured the runabout to the stern, and started off. + +On the way to Swamp Creek, Rick and Scotty described their plan to the +crabber. Harris slapped his thigh. "Now we're gettin' somewhere. You +just lay the pole and rope up on the gunwale as I go by, and leave the +rest to me. If the thing on the bottom is too heavy, I can pull it in. +Got a line to put on it?" + +Rick admitted they had forgotten that detail. "We can cut a length off +the pole line." + +"No need. Plenty of short lengths in that rope locker behind you. Take +what you need." + +The boys each selected a ten-foot length of half-inch nylon rope, +sufficiently long for hauling the object up, if need be. + +Harris asked, "Sure you can find your way underwater in the dark?" + +"We have wrist compasses with luminous dials," Scotty explained. + +"Good. Any danger of you comin' up under me?" + +"No. We'll see the white bubbles from your prop. They'll be +phosphorescent." Rick pointed to the crab boat's wake. Thousands of tiny +bay creatures, most of them almost invisible bits of jelly, flashed blue +white as the prop disturbed them, so that the wake twinkled as though +studded with stars. + +They fell silent as Harris crossed the Little Choptank, the steady beat +of his motor nearly lost in the darkness. Rick could not make out +details or landmarks, but Harris knew the way as well as he knew the +inside of his own boat. Rick enjoyed the coolness of the night, and even +the heavy scent of the salted eel the crabber used as bait. + +Harris tapped each boy on the shoulder in turn, and pointed. They could +barely make out the entrance to the creek. They nodded, and shook hands, +then Rick pulled the runabout towline and brought the smaller boat to +the crabber's stern. Scotty stepped aboard and held out a hand. Rick +joined him, casting off as he embarked. In a moment they were adrift. + +It took only five minutes to get their tanks in place, put on fins, and +go through their routine of checking weight belt releases, making +certain that the emergency valves were in the "up" position on the +tanks, and ensuring that regulators were operating smoothly. Rick +slipped into the water with only a small splash, and Scotty followed. +They took the runabout's bow rope and swam easily and quietly. + +There was no hurry. Orvil Harris would need a little time to put out his +lines. He would avoid the pole they had placed; its top would be above +water at this stage of the tide. + +Scotty led the way to the opening into the small waterway through which +they had gone to the duck blind. He found it without difficulty, and for +the thousandth time Rick marveled at his pal's sure sense of position +and direction, even in darkness. The boat was pushed backward into the +opening and tied to a root. + +Rick rinsed his mask, put it on, and slid noiselessly under the water. +Scotty followed in a direct line, letting Rick pick the course, and +following by the feeling of Rick's flipper wash on his cheeks. + +It was like swimming in ink. Rick kept his hands out in case of +unexpected underwater objects, but forged ahead at a good speed. He kept +track of his own rate of progress through the water by timing the number +of flutter kicks per minute. At the count of fifty he turned to the +left, heading directly into the creek's mouth. He could hear the steady +beat of Orvil's motor. When he estimated he had covered the proper +distance, he stopped and let Scotty catch up with him. He put a hand on +his pal's shoulder and pressed down, a signal to hold position. Then, +very carefully, he swam to the top of the water and lifted his head +above the surface. He could see the sapling a dozen yards away, slightly +to his right. Orvil was putting out lines upstream, near the point where +Swamp Creek widened into the cove. + +Rick went under again and tapped Scotty. He headed for the pole, hands +outstretched to intercept it. His left hand hit it and held. Scotty came +alongside and they swam to the bottom. Both gripped the pole, put fins +flat against the muddy bottom, and heaved. The pole came up without +difficulty. While Scotty held it, Rick wrapped rope around it until the +line was fully wound again. Orvil's motor was nearer now. Rick took one +end of the pole while Scotty took the other. They operated entirely by +touch; nothing was visible except the luminous dials of their compasses. +The motor sound was muted in the burbling exhaust of their bubbles. + +It was almost possible to stand on flipper tips with head above water. +The boys thrust their heads out with care, and saw Orvil bearing down on +them, peering forward anxiously. He waved when he saw the two helmeted +heads. There was a slight gleam from the masks even in the darkness. As +he came alongside, the boys held the pole overhead, water churning under +their flippers. Orvil bent and took it, lifted it on board, and +continued on his path. + +The boys went under again, operating on a prearranged plan. This time +they swam side by side, hands searching for the fish line. Since Rick +knew the approximate position where he had tied it to the projecting +stump, he led the way toward shallow water, hoping to intercept it. + +The water shoaled rapidly as the boys approached the shore. Scotty's +hand suddenly gripped Rick's, and Rick felt the line. + +At the same instant, Rick was aware of bubbles in the water, a trail of +faint phosphorescence shooting downward past his mask. Then something +glanced from his tank and he heard a sharp clang like a brazen bell in +his ears. The impact rolled him partly over, and as he turned, another +line of phosphorescence streaked past his eyes. + +The skin on his back crawled in the blazing moment of recognition. They +were being shot at! + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +The Night Watchers + + +Scotty, who had realized they were being shot at, was pulling at Rick's +arm in frantic jerks, trying to lead him back into deeper water. Rick +needed no urging. His fins thrashed in the shallows as he drove +desperately for the safety of the deepest part of the cove, his hands +keeping contact with the bottom. + +The increased pressure on his eardrums told him they had reached the +sanctuary of deeper water where the velocity of bullets would be +absorbed before they could strike. He was bewildered. What had happened? +Who was shooting? For a moment it crossed his mind that Orvil might be +doing the shooting, but he dismissed it. He had no proof that the +crabber hadn't suddenly turned on them; he just didn't believe it. + +Yesterday Scotty had seen watchers on the shore, presumably from +Calvert's Favor. Apparently the watchers were there now. The boys had +gone into shallow water, and their tanks had shown above the surface, +drawing fire. It was the only reasonable explanation. Probably the night +watchers had seen the pole handed up to Orvil, or had seen the faint +light reflecting from their masks. + +What had happened to Orvil? + +One thing was certain. They couldn't stay on the bottom indefinitely. + +Rick consulted his wrist compass and closed his fingers on Scotty's +shoulder. He led the way toward the mouth of the cove. + +Somewhere on the shore, he thought, the night gunmen were watching the +line of bubbles. The boys' only hope of escaping detection had been to +avoid drawing attention to themselves. Rick knew that was impossible +with watchers on the shore. Watchers at four in the morning was one +thing he hadn't expected. What had drawn them? + +Suddenly he knew. While he, Steve, and Scotty had examined the mansion +through glasses from Orvil's boat, Merlin and company, or a single +guard, had been watching them. They had drawn attention not only to +Orvil, but to the time of day when the guards would need to be +especially alert. + +Bubbles would attract the guards' attention, not only because they +foamed on the surface, but because they would leave a glow of +phosphorescence. How far would bubbles and glow be visible? He had a +mental image of the watchers following the shoreline. They couldn't +cross the creek or its mouth to where Steve's runabout was stowed, but +they could shoot that far, if they could see the bubbles. + +The only way for Scotty and him to escape was to eliminate the bubble +track. That meant not breathing. Not breathing was possible for a short +time. During the interval, they could swim into the marsh grass and use +it for cover. + +Rick's thoughts raced. He tried to recall the shoreline. There must be +some promontory, some outcropping of grass, behind which they could +hide. Perhaps the best way was simply to swim directly out from the +creek mouth until distance hid the bubbles and darkness shrouded two +black-covered heads. + +There was a problem, though. Scotty's air tank hadn't been used until +now. Rick's had, during the initial search yesterday. He estimated +quickly. Less air is used at shallow depths than at deeper depths. The +water depth for most of the way was shallow enough so that tank time was +essentially the same as swimming on the surface. He had had at least +forty-five minutes of air to begin with, and it might be stretched to +fifty minutes. He probably had used no more than forty minutes of air, +total. But the remaining ten minutes would not take them out into really +deep water in the river itself, and then back to shore. There was not +enough air to take them to Steve's place. + +He had to make up his mind. Scotty, undoubtedly, was doing some fast +thinking along the same lines. Their thoughts usually followed the same +track in such situations. Rick touched Scotty's side and forged ahead, +heading straight out. He counted his kicks, estimating distance covered. +When he reached a count of three hundred he angled right, toward the +north shore of the Little Choptank. They were well out of the creek now. + +When the water shoaled, he found Scotty again and pressed him down; +then, very gingerly, he put his head above water, half expecting to feel +the shock of a bullet. + +There was a fallen tree nearby. He submerged again, touched Scotty, and +led the way to its shelter. A cautious survey told him they were some +distance from the creek mouth, and certainly invisible behind the +waterlogged trunk and its load of leaves and other debris. + +He put his lips to Scotty's ear. "Wonder what happened to Orvil?" + +"We've got to find out," Scotty whispered back. + +"Yes, but how?" + +"We go overland." + +Of course! They were on the same side as the boat, and not far away. +There was the stretch of marsh between the channel and the creek. They +could cross that, and overlook the creek. "Let's go," Rick whispered. + +They inched their way along the fallen tree to the bank, then crawled +slowly into the shelter of the marsh grass. The grass grew in a narrow +swath at this point, with a tangle of scrub and trees deeper inland. +They kept going until the scrub concealed them, listening for sounds +from the creek. There was the beat of a motor. It sounded like Orvil's +boat, and Rick thought it probably was. But would Orvil continue +crabbing? Again the doubt came. Had the crabber tried to kill them? He +couldn't believe it. + +The boys stopped and slipped off their fins. "Lead on," Rick said +softly. + +"Okay. When we get to the boat, we'll wade across the channel and +continue right on through the marsh grass to the bank of the creek. We'd +better be as quiet as possible." + +"I'm with you." + +Carrying their swim fins, the boys started through the dense growth, +Scotty in the lead. It was hard going. Mosquitoes whined in a steady +swarm around their heads, but with the neoprene suits and helmets, only +their faces and hands were exposed. Each traveled with one hand +outstretched to fend off branches, the other hand waving the fins to +chase the insects from their faces. The outstretched hands were wiped +frequently across the suits to get rid of the pests. + +Rick was careful to step where Scotty stepped. When it came to silent +tracking at night, the ex-Marine had few peers. + +The two skirted the shore, keeping within the tree belt, until more +marsh grass warned them that the water was near. The ground gave way to +mud, and the mud to water. They stepped into the narrow channel up which +they had gone to the blind. They now were less than two yards from the +runabout. Scotty turned at once, and keeping to the water, moved +upstream. Rick followed, careful not to splash. The darkness was less +dense than under the trees, but he could not make out any details. + +The channel ran roughly parallel to the creek, with a strip of land +about thirty yards wide between the two. When Scotty estimated they were +even with the cove, he left the channel and moved into the marsh grass +again. Rick followed closely, careful to make no noise. In spite of +their best efforts there was an occasional sucking sound as his foot or +Scotty's pulled out of the muck, and there was a steady rustle of marsh +grass. He hoped that the sounds were drowned out by the steady chugging +of Orvil's motor. + +Scotty slowed to a cautious pace and Rick knew they were approaching the +creek bank. The marsh grass did not thin appreciably. Rick wondered if +the night watchers could see the tassels of the grass waving as they +approached, and decided that the small motion probably was invisible +against the high bank of trees farther inland. + +Rick stopped as Scotty turned. Soundlessly, Scotty lowered himself to +the mud, then inched ahead, moving each strand of marsh grass with care. +Rick followed suit, and crawled in Scotty's track until he saw the +glimmer of water. Then, moving with great caution, he drew alongside his +pal. They looked out into the cove through a thin screen of grass +stalks. + +Orvil Harris was crabbing, as unconcerned as though nothing had +happened. As Rick stared, disbelieving, the crabber's net swooped. + +The crab boat moved on, exposing a glow on the opposite bank. Rick +sucked in his breath. He could make out the forms of two men. One was +smoking a cigarette. Both carried rifles. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +Daybreak + + +Rick tugged at Scotty's suit, then crawfished backward through the marsh +grass until he was sure the night watchers could not see him. He stood +up, and Scotty joined him. Rick motioned toward their own boat. + +The boys made their way back through the swamp to the runabout in almost +total silence, each busy with his own thoughts. + +Orvil Harris was crabbing as though nothing had happened, while the +night watchers stood in plain sight on the opposite shore. Orvil must +have seen the shots fired, Rick was certain. Even if he had been looking +the other way, the first shot would have caught his attention. + +Or, Rick wondered, had Orvil tipped off the two guards that divers were +below? If so, the game was up. Once Merlin and company knew the payload +had fallen into the cove, they would be diving for it themselves, under +cover of guns. Merlin undoubtedly knew that the launching the evening of +the squall had gone wrong, but he couldn't know how, or where. + +But somehow, Rick didn't think Orvil had been a party to the shooting. +Maybe it was stubbornness, refusing to think the crabber was involved +just because they liked him. Or maybe it was because the crabber had no +reason for helping Merlin and his gang; at least Harris had no reason +known to Rick and Scotty. + +They reached the boat and conferred in whispers that were inaudible six +feet away. + +"Could Orvil have put the finger on us?" Scotty questioned. + +Rick shrugged. "I don't want to think so, and I don't. But I have to +admit it's possible." + +"If he's in with them, they'll be diving for the 'what's-it' at first +light." + +Rick glanced at the eastern sky. It was beginning to glow with the first +hint of daylight. "That's not long from now." + +"How are we going to recover it first?" + +Again Rick shrugged. "There's only one way. Go in and get it." + +"Under those guns?" + +"A diver on the bottom isn't in danger from the guns. I could find the +thing again without going into the shallows. That's what made us targets +before, because we took the easy way to locate the fish line by going +into the shallows near where I tied the line." + +"Let's see your tank," Scotty whispered. + +Rick unsnapped his harness release and swung the tank around. Their +probing fingers soon identified where the bullet had glanced off. There +was a dent, coated with silvery metal. + +"Lead," Rick said. "Part of the slug." + +"Good thing it didn't rupture the tank." + +Rick shuddered. "If it had, I'd have been out of air suddenly and +would've had to come up. Listen, Scotty. My plan is a simple one. I'll +take your tank, since you have the most air, and swim right into the +cove, find the 'what's-it' and swim out again. If it's too heavy to tow +far, I can at least wrestle it part of the way, and then bury it in the +mud. Meanwhile, you get the boat out where it's clear and be ready to +pick me up." + +"They'll see your bubbles, but they can't do anything about it with +rifles," Scotty pointed out. "One thing they can do, though, is jump in +after you. The cove isn't so deep that a pair of good swimmers couldn't +tackle you. The lung wouldn't improve your chances by much." + +"Too true," Rick observed. "But what else can we try?" + +Scotty thought it over. "Listen, we'll take the boat out right now. +You'll have to do the diving, because you know about where the thing is, +and I don't. When we get out, you go over the side. I'll run around to +the river, opposite where the guards are standing, and raise a little +fuss. That might draw their attention away from the cove." + +"Okay." It made sense to Rick. "They'll see both of us in the boat, but +they won't see me get out. Only you'd better plan our course. I have no +aching desire to collect a rifle slug where it hurts." + +"They may not shoot if they see we're leaving," Scotty pointed out. + +"Uh-huh. And they might shoot, anyway." + +"They might. But we'll be moving fast, and I'll swing that boat from +side to side like a swivel-hipped fullback. Let's get going. We don't +want too much daylight." + +Scotty unsnapped his harness and Rick took his pal's tank and regulator. +They put Rick's unit in the bottom of the runabout cockpit, along with +Scotty's fins and mask. Rick put on his own fins and made sure he was +ready to hit the water at a moment's notice. + +Rick went to the stern of the runabout and felt down the motor leg to +the prop to make sure it had not picked up any grass that might slow +them down. It was clear. Scotty, meanwhile, untied the boat and slid +into the driver's seat. Rick reached over the transom and pumped up the +gasoline tank to ensure plenty of pressure, then he waded to the side of +the boat and got into the seat next to Scotty. + +"Pull us out to where the nose is almost projecting beyond the grass," +Scotty whispered. + +Rick did so, by grasping clumps of marsh grass and pulling the boat +along. As the bow cleared the grass, Scotty punched the starter button, +threw the runabout into gear, and shoved the throttle all the way +forward. + +The runabout jumped forward, slamming Rick back against his tank. The +boat hit the shoal at the entrance and slowed for a long, breathtaking +moment, then the driving prop pushed it over into deeper water. The +stern went down and the bow lifted, and they were clear. + +Scotty swung the boat to the right, putting its stern to the cove. Rick +tensed, expecting any moment to feel the impact of a rifle bullet, +either in the boat or in his own body. There was no sound other than the +racing motor, and he knew it would drown out the crack of a distant +rifle. + +The distance from the cove entrance widened. "Get ready!" Scotty yelled. +"Lay flat and be ready to roll. I'll turn so the motor is moving away +from you. When I tap you, we'll be directly in line with the cove +entrance." + +Rick moved out of the seat, keeping low, and lay on his side along the +gunwale, facing Scotty. He put the mouthpiece in place and made sure he +was getting air, then pulled his mask down. He was ready. The impact +with the water would be hard, at this speed, but his tank would cushion +the shock. He tensed for the signal. + +Scotty swung the boat to the left, held it on course for a moment, then +began a shallow turn to the right. That way, the motor would be steering +itself away from Rick when he went over. + +The boat came abreast of the cove entrance and Scotty slapped Rick on +the shoulder. Instantly Rick rolled, one hand reaching for the back of +his head, the other grabbing his mask. He hit the water on his back, his +hand and the tank breaking the shock of the stunning impact. He threw +his legs upward, and his momentum took him under the water instantly. + +The racing motor receded, leaving him in silent darkness. He rolled over +into normal swimming position and consulted his wrist compass. The creek +entrance ran on a course of 80 degrees. If Scotty had gauged things +correctly, that course would take him into the cove. If Scotty hadn't, +Rick Brant would end up on the beach like a stranded whale. + +Rick considered. The boat was gone, and it was extremely unlikely anyone +had seen him leave it. The turn had caused the boat to tilt, lifting the +side away from him. He was certain that the guards had not seen the +maneuver. That being so, and taking into account his distance from the +creek entrance, he thought it would be safe to look and check his +course. + +He held the compass in front of his eyes, and rose to the surface. He +broke through slowly and without a splash. One look was enough. He +should have trusted Scotty. He was dead on course. + +Rick went to the bottom and began the long swim, counting his leg +strokes. He and Scotty had practiced estimating underwater distance by +the number and timing of their leg strokes. It wasn't an exact method, +of course, but it was practical. + +There were no underwater obstacles, and the depth was great enough. Rick +remembered from the chart that the entrance into the creek varied from +eight to eleven feet, dropping inside the creek mouth to about seven. No +bullet could harm him if he stayed on the bottom. If the night watchers +fired, the bullet would be slowed by the water. + +He heard the sound of a motor and recognized it as the runabout. The +sound faded again. Scotty was going through some kind of maneuvers. +Then, in a short time, another motor made itself felt, more than heard. +The slower beat identified it as Orvil Harris's crab boat. He was +nearing the cove! + +Like all divers, Rick's ears were sensitive to pressure changes. Sensing +when the depth lessened, he knew he had reached the cove itself. Now to +find the payload--if it was a payload. His groping hands began the +search. + +The first foreign object he touched was a cord. It was the wrong +thickness for his own line, and he felt along it until he came to a +soft, round mass, and knew he was touching one of Orvil's crab baits. He +grinned in spite of the mouthpiece. Wouldn't Orvil be surprised if a +diver came up hanging to his bait! + +He let the crab line drop and continued his search. Once, Orvil passed +within a few feet of him, and Rick wondered if the crabber had noticed +the air bubbles from his regulator. + +Rising ground told Rick he had reached the end of the cove. He turned +left and held his course for about twenty feet, then turned left again, +heading back toward the cove entrance. His hands never stopped moving, +probing the mud for a trace of fish line. He crossed another of Orvil's +crab lines, and kept going until pressure change told him he was back in +the deeper water at the creek entrance. He turned right again. A check +of his compass told him he was on course. + +His groping hands trailed over a thin line. He grabbed it, and stopped +his flutter kick. Then, moving with care, he turned and followed the +line. His pulse was faster now, and he rigidly controlled his breathing. +Fast breathing wouldn't do, and he would have to be careful not to let +out a sigh that would cause bubbles to gush upward in one big rush. + +A hand found the end of the line and the smooth cylinder to which it was +attached. Orvil passed very close, and Rick looked upward. He could see +the white circle of water around the single propeller. + +Now to find out what he had. His hands stroked it from one end to the +other. One end was rounded. The other was a circle with an odd-shaped +hole running into it. Rick poked his finger in, but couldn't feel the +end of the depression. The only protuberance on the thing was a band +near the rounded end. The band felt like metal, and had two rings +projecting from it. The rest of the cylinder didn't feel like metal. The +texture was that of a smooth plastic. + +Rick lifted the object gingerly. It was hard to estimate weight under +water, but he thought ten pounds would be about right. The total length +was less than three feet. It would be easy to carry. + +This time he needed a reciprocal compass course. It would be 260 degrees +going out. He oriented himself properly, picked up the cylinder, and +began the long swim back. He wondered if Merlin's guards were watching +his bubbles. He had seen no sign of bullets, but he hadn't been looking +for them. With Orvil's motor so near, it was likely he would not have +heard the slap of a bullet on the water. + +Pressure told him he was out of the cove. He breathed a little easier. +Now to count leg strokes again. He looked up, and saw that the surface +of the water was shining with light, the first rays of true daylight. +Scotty would have no trouble finding him. + +Because of the daylight, he continued on for a distance beyond where +Scotty had dropped him. No use giving the guards too good a shot. +Finally, exhausted, he surfaced. He lifted his mask and surveyed the +scene. + +Orvil Harris was still crabbing. Rick could see the boat, but the angle +was wrong for him to see the crabber at work. He turned slowly in the +water, and saw Scotty. The runabout was floating, motor off, about a +mile away. He lifted an arm. The glint of first sunrise turned the +lenses of Scotty's binoculars into a crimson eye, and Scotty waved back. +In a few seconds Rick heard the motor start and saw the boat racing +toward him. He kept his mouthpiece in place, and floated, waiting. + +[Illustration: _Now to find out what he had_] + +Scotty came alongside and reached down. Rick handed him the cylinder. +Scotty put it on the seat without even looking at it. He gave Rick a +hand and pulled him over the side. He asked anxiously, "Are you all +right?" + +"Done in," Rick said wearily. "But otherwise okay." + +"Let's get out of here." Scotty put the runabout in gear and headed back +toward Martins Creek. + +Rick sat down and picked up the cylinder. There was a gob of mud still +on it. He wiped it off with his hand and examined the thing. The +material was fiber glass set in resin, and it was designed so the +rounded nose could be removed. He didn't remove it, however. Instead he +looked at the other end, down into the hole with the puzzling shape. It +was like a cutout Star of David in shape, the hole gradually narrowing +until its apex was almost at the other end. + +The light dawned. Rick's lips formed the word. "Grain." + +Scotty was watching. "What?" + +"Grain," Rick said again. "This thing is a small solid-propellant +rocket!" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +The Empty Boat + + +The Swiss torsion clock on Steve Ames's fireplace mantle read 6:49. Rick +and Scotty, in slacks, shirts, and moccasins, sat in armchairs and tried +to stay awake. The small rocket, cleaned and dried, rested on a +newspaper on Steve's table. + +"Rockoon," Rick said. "That explains the funny antenna, the presence of +the electronics expert, and why the stingarees are launched." + +"Not to me, it doesn't," Scotty retorted. He sipped steaming coffee. +"What was that word you used? Grain?" + +Rick nodded sleepily. "That's what solid rocket fuel is called. It's +poured into the casing around a form. The form is withdrawn after the +fuel hardens. The shape is designed to give maximum burning surface. +Since the solid fuel is grainy, it's called grain." + +"Logical," Scotty replied with a languid wave of his hand. "All +perfectly logical. I also understand that a rockoon is a combination of +a rocket and a balloon. The balloon carries the rocket up to where the +air is less dense, then the rocket fires and breaks away. How does the +rocket know when to fire?" + +"Two ways. A barometric switch can be installed that will act at a +certain altitude, or a signal can be sent from the ground." + +"The antenna," Scotty said. "It can send a signal." + +"Sure." + +"I'm with you all the way, until you say this shows why the stingarees +fly. Why send up rockoons? What's the reason?" + +Rick forgot he was holding a coffee cup and waved his hand. He recovered +in time to keep from spilling the hot liquid on Steve's rug. "Scientific +research is usually the reason for rockoons. They carry experiments." + +Scotty snorted. "Are you telling me Lefty Camillion has turned +scientist?" + +"Nope." Rick yawned. "I take it back. We still don't know why the +stingarees fly. We only know what they are. Where do you suppose Steve +is?" + +"That's the eighth time you've asked. He'll be here when that business +of his is over." + +The telephone rang. Rick jumped to his feet and beat Scotty to the phone +only because he was four steps nearer. "Hello?" + +An unfamiliar voice spoke. "Stay away from the creek, and stay away from +the house. If you don't, your crab-catching buddy is going to be turned +into crab food." The line went dead. + +Rick turned, eyes wide. Suddenly he was no longer sleepy. "Did you hear +that? He said to stay away from the creek and the house, or our +crab-catching buddy would be turned into crab food!" + +"He must have meant Orvil Harris!" Scotty exclaimed. "Rick, let's get +going!" + +The boys started for the door at a run, but Rick stopped as his eye +caught the rocket. "Check the gas," he told Scotty. "Steve has a spare +can in the workshop. The runabout tank must be getting low. I'm going to +hide the rocket." + +Scotty left at a run. Rick picked up the rocket and surveyed the scene. +Where could he hide it? He hurried into the kitchen and examined the +cabinets, then shook his head. Too obvious. + +The refrigerator caught his eye. An apron at the bottom concealed the +motor unit. He knelt and pulled the apron free from its fastenings. +There was room next to the motor--unless the heat of the motor caused +the rocket fuel to burn. He opened the refrigerator and examined the +control, then turned it to "defrost." It wouldn't go on until they got +back. Hurriedly he put the small rocket in at a slight angle. It just +fit. He snapped the cover back in place and ran to join Scotty, who was +already in the boat. + +"Gas okay," Scotty called. "Let's go." + +Rick cast off and jumped aboard. Scotty started the motor and backed +into the stream, then turned sharply and headed toward the river. +Neither boy spoke. Their sleepiness was gone now, forgotten in their +fear for Orvil. + +Scotty held the runabout wide open, at its top speed of nearly twenty +miles an hour. They sped across the Little Choptank River straight for +Swamp Creek, with no effort at concealment. + +Rick saw a low, white boat some distance down the river and grabbed +Scotty's arm. "Isn't that Orvil's boat?" + +Scotty looked for a long moment. "It looks like it. Let's go see." + +They swung onto a new course, in pursuit of the white boat. It might not +be Orvil's, but it was like it. Both boys could now recognize the design +characteristic of boats built on the Chesapeake Bay. The boats were +known as "bay builts," and distinguished by their straight bows--almost +vertical to the water line--square sterns, and flaring sides. The design +was ideal for the shallow, choppy waters of the bay, and the boats could +take a heavy bay storm with greater comfort and safety than most +deep-water models. + +As they came closer both boys looked for the boat's occupant, but there +was no one in sight. Worried, Scotty held top speed until they were +nearly alongside, then he throttled down and put his gunwale next to +that of the crab boat. + +"It's Orvil's," Rick said. "But where is he?" + +"Get aboard," Scotty suggested. + +"Okay." Rick stood up and timed his motion with the slight roll of both +boats, then stepped into the crabber. Orvil's crab lines were coiled +neatly in their barrels, the stone crab-line anchors and floats were +stacked along the side of the boat. There were three covered bushel +baskets of crabs, and extra baskets stacked in place. One open basket +held a dozen jumbo crabs. Orvil's net was in its rack on the engine box, +but there was no sign of Orvil himself. + +Wait--there was a sign. Rick knelt by a small brown patch on the deck. +He touched it, and a chill lanced through him. Blood, and only recently +dried. Orvil's? + +Rick straightened. Someone had turned the boat loose, idled down to its +lowest speed. The stable crab boat had continued on course, heading out +the mouth of the Little Choptank into the wide bay. Only a bloodstain +showed that there had been violence aboard. + +The flying stingaree had claimed another victim! + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +Steve Waits It Out + + +The two-boat procession moved down Martins Creek at slow speed, Scotty +leading in the runabout and Rick following in Orvil's boat. The boys had +decided to take the crab boat back to Steve's, because it could not be +left adrift, and they did not know where Orvil berthed it. + +Both agreed it was senseless to return to Swamp Creek. That wouldn't +help Orvil, at least for now, and they might possibly be picked off by +the riflemen. + +As they neared the pier, Scotty moved out of the way while Rick backed +the big crab boat into the runabout's place. Before he had finished, +Steve was coming down the walk at a run. + +The agent took the line Rick tossed and made it fast, then caught +another line and secured the bow. Scotty backed in with the runabout and +Rick helped him secure the smaller boat to the side of the crabber. + +"Bumpers on the houseboat," Rick called. "Under the cockpit deck." + +Steve hurried to get them, and they were placed between the crab boat +and the runabout to prevent rubbing. + +The boys climbed to the pier and faced their friend. + +"We found the boat headed into the bay," Rick said grimly. "Bloodstain +on the deck, but no other sign of violence. We had a phone call telling +us to keep away from the creek and the house, or Orvil would be fed to +the crabs. There's no doubt about it. They have Orvil." + +Strangely, Steve replied, "Yes, I know. Come on in the house." + +The three walked up the path to the farmhouse, with Rick and Scotty +staring incredulously at the agent. How had he known? + +"Did you get a phone call after we left?" Rick asked. + +Steve shook his head. + +"Then how did you know?" Scotty demanded. + +Steve held up a hand. "Easy, kids. I'm trying to get my thoughts +straightened out a little and make some plans. We'll talk it over +shortly." + +Inside the house, Rick went at once to the refrigerator. As the others +watched, he pulled the bottom panel loose, took out the small rocket, +and replaced the panel. Then he turned the refrigerator control back to +normal and handed the rocket to Steve. + +The agent examined it wordlessly, his forehead wrinkled in thought. Then +he put it down on the kitchen table and investigated the state of the +coffeepot while Rick and Scotty stood first on one foot, then the other, +and fumed quietly. + +Steve decided more coffee was needed and proceeded to make it. Not until +the pot was heating did he motion the boys to sit down at the kitchen +table. He joined them, turning a chair around and straddling it, his +chin resting on his hands on the back, his eyes alert. + +"Testing our patience again?" Rick asked acidly. + +Steve's warm grin flashed. "Sorry, kids. I was working over a few facts +in my head, trying to make them add up. Okay, let's talk. Start by +telling me about last night." + +The boys reported, taking turns. "At first we thought Orvil might have +told the riflemen guards we were on the bottom," Rick said finally, "but +that's out. He's a victim, not a member of the gang. I saw his boat just +before Scotty picked me up, but I couldn't see him." + +Scotty picked up the tale. "After Rick dropped off, I made a high-speed +run out into the river, then turned and headed for a spot on the north +bank opposite where I thought the guards were. I got in close to shore +and throttled down, deliberately giving them a chance at me if they +wanted to take it. There weren't any shots, but I saw one of the guards. +The visibility wasn't very good, so I propped the extra tank up in the +seat and put my headpiece and mask on it, hoping any watchers would +think there were two of us. I don't know whether they were fooled or +not." + +"Pretty smart," Steve approved. + +"Thanks. I ran back out into the river and fished around in the locker +under the seat. You had a few old wrenches there, and some rags. Well, I +owe you a wrench. It was the biggest one, which means it isn't used very +often on an outboard, anyway." + +"Just so long as it wasn't my size seven-sixteenths wrench," Steve said +with a grin. "Go on." + +"It wasn't. I wrapped rags around it and tied them with a hunk of line, +then searched for matches. I finally found a paper folder in the glove +compartment. I had to open the gas tank and let out pressure to get any +gas on the rags, and it wasn't easy, standing on my head in the cockpit. +What I really needed was a Coke bottle. I could have made a Molotov +cocktail by filling it with gas and using the rag for a fuse. Well, I +made another run inshore and watched for the boys with rifles. They +didn't show up. I got as close as I could without grounding, touched a +match to my bomb, and heaved it into the marsh grass. My eyebrows took a +beating." Scotty rubbed the slightly scorched areas. + +"I wanted to set the marsh on fire, but the blaze was only a small one. +I figured if the grass would burn, the riflemen would have to run +upstream to safety. But the stuff only charred in a circle. Anyway, it +scared them. They came running to stamp it out, and one of them took a +shot at me. But I was nearly a mile out from the creek by then, and he +didn't even come close." + +"Let's hope I never have you two for enemies," Steve said fervently. + +Scotty concluded, "I decided Rick probably had been in and out of the +cove by that time, so I moved to where I could watch with binoculars, +putting the sunrise behind where I thought he would appear. I knew I +could see him better against the light. Finally up he popped, and away I +went, and here we are." + +Rick ended their recital. "We got back and took off our diving suits, +then went for a swim with a bar of soap. When we were clean, except for +my hands, which got stained by the mud, we dressed and came into the +house. We were sitting down enjoying coffee and trying to keep awake +when the phone rang. How did those hoods get the number, anyway?" + +"That's not hard," Steve said. "It's probable that Camillion's boys +started checking up on you the moment you showed interest. My car is +known at the local gas stations. It would be just a matter of asking who +owns a convertible of that description. Name and telephone directory add +up to the right number. Watching you enter Martins Creek would cap the +information. You could be seen easily with glasses from the river shore +opposite the cove." + +The agent got up and turned down the stove as the coffee began to +percolate. "My tale is pretty short." + +"Wag it, anyway," Rick suggested. + +Steve put a hand to his forehead. "Gags like that at this time of day +cause shooting pains. Please be attentive, and not waggish." + +"Ouch!" Scotty exclaimed. + +Steve sat down again. "After you were safely on your way I changed to +dark clothes, smeared a little black goo on my face, and took off for +Calvert's Favor. I drove to within a half mile and parked the car in the +woods, then hiked. The first thing I came to was a chain-link fence. It +took some time to see if it was wired for an alarm--and it was. So I had +to find a tree with a limb that overhung the fence. I'd taken the +precaution of carrying a rope. I found the tree, fixed the rope to an +overhanging limb, and down I went." + +"We could have postponed recovering the payload and helped you," Scotty +said reproachfully. + +"Sure you could. But I'm used to operating alone, and I was interested +in what you might find in the cove. Anyway, I approached from behind the +barn and had to take cover when two men went by. They had rifles. They +headed down the peninsula toward the cove. I scouted around, but no +other guards were in sight, so I started with the barn." + +Steve paused. "That is quite a barn. No hay, no oats, no horses. But it +has the loveliest dish antenna in it you've ever seen." + +"A microwave dish?" Rick gasped. + +"Exactly. It's mounted on a truck, and I suspect the electronic gear is +inside. I couldn't get a good look. There are also little cubicles +inside the barn, probably horse stalls, and I could hear a man snoring +in one of them. There wasn't much light, and I couldn't use my little +flashlight beam too freely, but I did get a look at several gas bottles +racked along one wall. They were big ones, of the kind used for +commercial gases like propane or oxygen." + +"Or hydrogen?" Scotty asked quickly. + +"Or hydrogen," Steve agreed. "And that's probably what they contain, for +inflating the balloons." + +He got up, turned off the coffee, and poured three cups. "Along about +that time, I heard rifleshots. You can imagine what I thought. I had a +vision of two bodies sinking slowly into the mud. If I'd had a weapon, I +think I'd have run down to see what was going on. But common sense got +the better of me, and I figured it was highly unlikely that a pair of +divers could be picked off with rifles if they were underwater. I was +sure you had sense enough to stay down. So I left the barn and went to +the house." + +"You actually went in?" Rick asked, his eyes wide. + +"Sure. It was safe enough. The gang was sleeping upstairs and the two +guards were interested in you and Orvil. No papers were left where I +could get them. There's a built-in safe, but I'm no Jimmy Valentine who +sandpapers his fingers and opens boxes by touch. I couldn't do anything +with it. Finally, I figured all had been seen that could be seen, and +left the house. I could hear a motor racing, and I recognized the +runabout, so I knew you were still alive. I retired to the woods behind +the barn and headed for the riverbank. I saw Scotty hurl his homemade +bomb." + +Scotty shook his head. "I didn't see you." + +"You weren't supposed to. I decided Scotty must be creating a diversion, +and that meant you, Rick, were still diving in the cove. I took off for +the cove, keeping a weather eye out for the guards. There was plenty of +cover along the bank, so it wasn't hard. I got a good view of the +festivities. After the fire was stamped out, the two guards walked up to +the bank of the cove and waited until Orvil got close, then they pointed +their rifles at him and invited him to come closer still. He didn't have +much choice." + +Rick thought that was an understatement. + +"They questioned him for a while. Who were the divers and what were they +after? Orvil played dumb. He said he knew nothing about divers and of +course he had seen bubbles. He always saw bubbles. Marsh gas was rising +all the time. He couldn't understand what all the shooting was about." + +"Good for Orvil," Scotty muttered. + +"He put on a pretty good act, saying he didn't know what they were +shooting at, but the guards weren't having any. They finally made him +pull up his lines, throw his bait overboard, and get everything +shipshape. Then one of the guards invited him to step ashore. Orvil +balked and took a swing at the nearest one and got a rifle across the +head. He dropped to the deck. That must be how the stain got there. They +slapped him back into consciousness and made him get out. One guard held +a rifle on him while the other put his weapon down and got in the boat. +He took the boat out into the middle of the cove, aimed it toward the +river, and put it in gear, then dove over the side and swam ashore. The +boat headed out and the guards walked Orvil back." + +"So he's alive," Rick said with relief. + +"Probably. I waited until the parade went by, then fell in line. They +took Orvil into the barn, and I managed to get a look through a window. +They tossed him into one of the horse stalls and locked the barn door. I +decided it was time to leave." + +Steve sipped his coffee and made a face as it burned his tongue. "You +can imagine how I felt. If one had gone away, I could have jumped the +other. But two with guns, and me with not even a rock--I was dead +certain to end up with Orvil. Besides, I couldn't take the chance." + +Rick stared. If Steve felt he couldn't take a chance on rescuing Orvil, +there had to be a good reason. The only reason Rick could think of was +that Steve had decided there was more at stake than Orvil himself. + +"We know where Orvil is," Scotty pointed out. "We can go after him. This +time we'll be armed." + +Steve shook his head. "Sorry. I wish it could be like that, but we're +not engaged in a personal vendetta. Orvil may be out of there by +tonight, or he may not. He'll have to take his chances." + +One thing had been bothering Rick, aside from Steve's untypical attitude +about rescuing Orvil. "You haven't accounted for all your time. You +could have reached here before we did if you had started back right +away." + +Steve shook his head. "I didn't. I went to the airport and used a public +phone booth by the side of the road to call Patuxent Naval Air Station. +In twenty minutes I had a Navy jet fighter on the Cambridge field. I +handed the pilot the pictures you took and told him what to do with +them, then I made another call to my office in Washington to tell them +the pictures were on the way and to look them over and take action +accordingly. We'll be seeing the results pretty soon." + +The young agent stopped smiling. "Your little mystery has turned into a +case for JANIG, kids. I'm pretty sure of my facts, but I'll know +definitely before noon. Right now, you'd better finish your coffee and +get into bed. You'll need sleep if things start to pop. That rockoon +idea of yours about cinches things." + +Rick blurted, "If it's a case for JANIG, there must be security involved +somewhere. Is Wallops Island involved somehow?" + +"Go to bed," Steve said sternly. "By the time you wake up, I'll have a +lot more than guesses, and I'll give you the details then." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +Crowd at Martins Creek + + +Rick and Scotty awoke to find four newcomers at Steve's house. Steve +introduced them to Dave Cobb, electronics specialist; Joe Vitalli and +Chuck Howard, JANIG agents; and Roy McDevitt from Wallops Island. + +McDevitt, who had just driven over from the rocket range, was a tall, +lean engineer dressed in slacks and a spectacular sport shirt emblazoned +with tropical flowers. He shook hands cordially. "You're Hartson Brant's +boys. We've certainly enjoyed having your family over at the island. +When Barby and Jan leave, the whole base will go into mourning." + +Rick grinned. "Somebody loses, somebody wins. We're anxious to have them +back with us again." + +Vitalli and Howard greeted the boys as old comrades. Although they had +had no chance to become well acquainted, the two agents had been part of +the JANIG team during the case of _The Whispering Box Mystery_. + +Dave Cobb, who was scarcely older than the boys, had been hastily +borrowed from the Naval Research Laboratory in Washington. He spared no +time for greetings other than a cordial wave, and immediately got to +work on the rocket Rick had found in the cove. + +The group pulled chairs up to the kitchen table on which Cobb was +working, and watched. + +Cobb studied the rocket for a few minutes, then took a pointed tool and +pressed it into a spot five inches below the rounded nose. He rotated +the cylinder and pressed a similar spot on the other side. Rick saw a +thin line appear around the rocket below where Cobb had pressed. + +The electronics specialist gripped the cylinder above and below the thin +line and twisted. The nose of the rocket came off. Cobb pointed to a +pair of metal prongs that extended out of the nose into the rocket +casing. "Contacts," he said. "They press against strips inside the +rocket casing. The whole assembly acts as a dipole antenna." + +No one commented. Cobb took a tiny screwdriver and removed two screws +from a metal plate in the bottom of the nose cone. The screws were long +ones, holding the entire nose assembly in place. With the screws laid +carefully aside, Cobb tapped the cone and the assembly dropped into his +hand. + +"A terrific job of miniaturization," he commented. "First-rate design." +He pointed with a screwdriver to a segment about the size of two silver +dollars stacked together. "Tape recorder. It accumulates data, then +plays it back in a single high-speed burst." + +Rick watched, fascinated, as the electronics expert identified +components and circuits. The whole unit, scarcely larger than a common +soup can, contained receiver, tape recorder, transmitter, batteries, and +command circuits that could be triggered from the ground. It was a +highly complex and beautifully engineered package for receiving data, +storing it, then retransmitting it. + +"But why?" Rick demanded. "Why send up a rockoon at all? What data does +it receive and transmit, and what do the people at the mansion do with +it?" + +"What Rick is asking," Scotty observed, "is the question that has +puzzled us since we got here. Why do the stingarees fly?" + +Steve waved a hand. "Patience for just a few more minutes. Anything +else, Cobb?" + +The electronics expert shook his head. "Not unless you have specific +questions. In summary, this is a very elegant little assembly of +receiver, data recorder, transmitter, and command circuits." + +"Fine. McDevitt, what about the rocket?" + +The man from Wallops Island shrugged. "Nothing very complex about it. +It's a simple solid-fuel rocket with star grain, fired by a squib that +is commanded from the ground. A squib is simply an igniter to start the +fuel burning. Battery power makes it glow red hot when turned on." + +"How high an altitude would the rocket reach?" Steve asked. + +"It's difficult to be precise, but I'd estimate the balloon carries it +to ten thousand feet, then it is fired by signal from the ground at the +proper time. The rocket would go to about one hundred thousand feet, +plus or minus twenty thousand. In other words, I'd guess its maximum +altitude at nearly twenty-three miles." + +"Did you say fired at the proper time, or proper altitude?" Rick asked +quickly. He wanted clarification of the point, although he was sure +McDevitt had said "time." + +"The altitude isn't important. I'd say time was the principal factor." + +"But if altitude isn't important, why use a rockoon? Why not use a +rocket launched directly from the ground?" Scotty demanded. He looked +puzzled. + +Rick looked at Steve expectantly. The young agent smiled. "Got the +answer, Rick?" + +"Maybe. It's a matter of secrecy, isn't it? The folks around here were +puzzled by the flying stingarees, but they would have been more puzzled +by rocket firing. They'd have been curious enough to want to know why +the rockets were being fired, and it's certain that an investigation +would have resulted. By using rockoons, with balloons that didn't look +like balloons, Camillion confused the issue. People who reported seeing +things got laughed at, mostly because they call any unidentified flying +object a flying saucer. The rockets fired only when high in the air, +where people wouldn't notice." + +"Two did," Scotty reminded him. "Remember? We had two interviews where +the people saw spurts of flame." + +"Sure," Rick agreed, "but they had no idea it was a rocket taking off +from a balloon. And only two out of the whole bunch even noticed flame +at all." + +Steve nodded. "You've hit it, Rick. It's the only answer that makes +sense." + +"Not until we know what data were collected by the rockoons," Rick said +stubbornly. "That's the whole key. Nothing will really make sense until +we know that." + +"We ran the dates and times of sightings through the computer with a lot +of other dates and times for various things," Steve explained. "I had a +hunch, but the computer turned it into good comparative data." + +"What data?" Scotty demanded. + +"Every single sighting you collected coincided with the launching of a +research rocket from Wallops Island!" + +The boys sat back, openmouthed. Rick said, "So that's why the glow from +Wallops Island in the south-eastern sky was so significant. That's what +put you on the trail!" + +"Right," Steve agreed. "The yellow glow is from sodium vapor rockets +fired from Wallops. The rockets allow visual measurement of +meteorological data. People around here are used to seeing them to the +southeast, over Wallops. When I saw that sightings had been made over +Swamp Creek at the time of sodium shots, I got an idea. It wasn't much +to go on, but it was at least a good clue. The computer did the rest." + +"Then Lefty Camillion and his friends have been intercepting data from +our rocket launchings at Wallops," Scotty said unbelievingly. "But why? +How could Lefty use data like that? It's all straight, unclassified +scientific and meteorological stuff. He's no scientist." + +Steve grinned. "I doubt that he even knows what the data are. He and his +friends are a bunch of chuckleheads of the very worst kind. But about +what he does with the data--Joe Vitalli has been doing some +investigating along that line." + +Vitalli nodded. "With the FBI. They put agents on the case and found out +Lefty had been in touch with the Soviet Embassy in Washington, through a +third secretary whose function it is to gather various kinds of +scientific intelligence. We're not absolutely certain, but it looks very +much as though Lefty plans to sell his data tapes to the Soviets." + +"So that's why JANIG has moved into the case," Scotty concluded. + +"On the nose," Steve agreed. "Now it's time to move in on our foolish +friends at Calvert's Favor. Do you boys want to take a hand?" + +"Try and leave us out," Rick said with a grin. "JANIG is welcome to +assist us, but the flying stingarees are our babies. Scotty's and mine, +that is." + +"Be glad to have you help," Scotty echoed. + +The JANIG men laughed. "You've got a point," Chuck Howard conceded. + +"Want to plan the operation?" Steve asked with a twinkle. + +Rick held up his hand. "Whoa! We didn't say that. You've got information +we don't have." + +"Only one piece of information," Steve replied. "The time of the next +launching from Wallops Island." + +"When?" Rick asked eagerly. + +"At dusk tonight." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +The Stingaree's Tail + + +"This is the plan," Steve Ames said. "Joe and Chuck will approach from +upriver and go around the mansion fence by wading downstream. They'll +stay under cover somewhere at the edge of the mansion grounds until they +hear my signal on the radio to close in--or until they see the balloon +launched. I'll go in the way I did before." + +The two JANIG agents nodded, and bent over the chart borrowed from the +houseboat. + +"Cobb will set up his equipment here at my house," Steve continued, "and +try to intercept all signals from the mansion. McDevitt will set up here +too, and track the balloon through my telescope--if it rises--watching +until the rocket fires. McDevitt also will keep in touch with Wallops +Island by radio, and notify me on the walkie-talkie when the countdown +reaches thirty minutes." + +Steve turned to Rick and Scotty. "Before I go to my post, I'll take you +two to the creek mouth in the runabout. Then you will swim up the creek, +underwater, and take up stations in the weeds directly in front of the +house." + +Rick's pulse stopped. "They'll see our bubbles," he protested. "It would +give the whole show away!" + +Steve motioned to Joe Vitalli. "Show 'em." + +Joe walked to the car in which he and Chuck had driven from Washington, +and opened the trunk. He brought out a pair of riot guns, automatic +shotguns, which he handed to Chuck, then he reached into the trunk and +brought out a pair of small cylinders with full face masks attached. + +"Rebreathers!" Rick exclaimed. He grinned at Steve. "You planned this +before you ever told us what was on your mind!" + +"I thought it was best to be prepared," Steve said. "You know how these +work?" + +Rick nodded. "We both do." The rebreathers, unlike Scubas, which were +filled with compressed air, used oxygen which was recycled through a +canister of chemicals that removed water vapor and carbon dioxide. They +were completely self-contained; no bubbles were emitted. + +Cobb was already opening a pair of leather-covered cases, exposing +electronic gear. He had also brought a portable antenna, which he began +setting up. McDevitt had a radio in his car with which to talk to +Wallops, and Steve handed him one unit of a walkie-talkie radio network. +Another unit went to Chuck, and Steve retained one. + +Steve glanced at his watch. "Let's get going. Time your travel so you +will be in place at eight o'clock on the nose." He looked at the boys. +"Get into your gear, and take spear guns with you. When we move into +action, I want you to bring that balloon down if you can." + +The boys ran to the houseboat. Rick was excited, and he knew Scotty was +feeling the same way. It was the first time they had been in on a JANIG +operation as full partners. Their previous adventures had either been as +accidental participants or as observers. + +They got into full gear, including their skin-tight neoprene helmets and +footgear. Then, leaving their fins and rebreathers, they hurried back to +the others. Joe and Chuck were in their own car, the riot guns and +walkie-talkie out of sight. McDevitt had the telescope set up next to +his car and was practicing with it by tracking a high-flying osprey. +Cobb was finishing work on his electronic setup. His antenna was in +place, the dish on top of the collapsible pole aligned on the compass +direction to Calvert's Favor. + +Steve shook hands with Joe and Chuck. "On your way. See you when the +balloon goes up." He motioned to the boys. "Got spear guns?" + +"We left that till last," Rick said. "Ready to go?" + +"Ready." + +The three hurried down the pier to the houseboat, where the boys took +guns from their spear box. Each chose a high-powered gas gun, operated +by a carbon dioxide cartridge, and selected the spears that would cut +the biggest holes. There would be time for only one shot. + +"Get on the floor in the runabout when we cast off," Steve directed. "If +there are any watchers, I want them to see only one man." + +The boys cast off, then climbed in as Steve backed into the creek. They +crouched on the floor and adjusted the straps on their face masks until +the fit was tight. There was no conversation. Rick was so excited it was +hard to sit still. As they began the crossing of the Little Choptank +River, Steve gave them instructions. "When we get opposite the creek +mouth, the engine is going to stutter and kick up a lot of smoke. The +boat will drift into the smoke and out again. You'll have a few seconds +to go over. I'll pretend to work on the motor, and finally get it +started, but running rough. Then I'll take off and pretend I'm heading +home. Okay?" + +"How are you going to make smoke?" Rick asked. + +Steve reached into his breast pocket and produced a small bottle. "These +are chemicals that smoke when they touch water. Got your plans all +made?" + +Rick looked at Scotty. "We'll have to stick our heads up once in a +while. I'll lead, since I know the creek as far as the cove. When I +think I'm lost, I'll head for the north bank, making a sharp turn. That +will be your signal to stay put, while I look. What I'd like to do is +bring us out in back of the duck blind. We can pick our spots then and +cross the creek when we're ready." + +"Got it," Scotty agreed. + +Steve reached down a hand and squeezed their hands in turn. "Good luck, +kids. And no unnecessary chances. If shooting starts, get underwater +again. We'll have guns, but you'll have only single-shot spear guns." + +"Good luck," the boys said in unison. They put on the masks and turned +the valves that started the oxygen cycles. Rick grinned at Scotty +through the glass, and knew that his grin was strained. Scotty grinned +back and held up his hand with thumb and forefinger making the signal +for "Okay." + +"Be ready," Steve said. + +Rick checked himself once again to be sure all was in order. Weight +belt, knife, compass, spear gun with safety cap on, mask fitting +tightly, and the pack in place. He got ready to jump on Steve's command. + +The outboard slowed, raced, slowed, raced, back-fired, slowed. Steve's +hand went over and trailed chemical in the water. The boat turned, and +Rick saw the smoke cloud rising. The boat went into it, and the motor +cut out. + +"Go," Steve said. + +Rick stood upright and went over the gunwale in a dive, knifing toward +the bottom. He felt the pressure wave as Scotty followed and reached a +hand upward to meet his pal. His hand touched Scotty's arm, found the +hand, and gave it a squeeze. Then, with a glance at his compass to +orient him, Rick started the long swim. + +It was odd to be wearing the oxygen lung. The sound of bubbles from the +customary compressed-air Scubas was missing, and the silence was +strange. Then Steve started the motor of the runabout and Rick heard the +broken rhythm as the motor skipped. He knew that Steve probably had +turned the carburetor mixture to too lean or too rich. Either would +cause the motor to run rough. He kept moving, his fins keeping a steady +stroke. The motor sound grew distant, and finally faded entirely. + +Rick usually depended on pressure to tell him location, but the creek +was too shallow for any strong indication on his ears. He kept going +until the visibility and brightness told him he was in the shallows, +then steered out into the middle of the stream again. + +He thought they must be halfway to the mansion, but wasn't sure. He gave +a pair of swift kicks to alert Scotty, then turned sharp left, rolling +over on his back. He could see the water surface clearly. Rising a +little, he lifted his face above the water for a brief second, then went +back under. + +Now was the time to get behind the duck blind. Rick swam back to where +Scotty waited, and plucked at his shoulder. This time he started off +close to the north shore, heading directly for the duck blind. His +course was straight. In a few moments he found himself among the pilings +and turned to put the blind between himself and the mansion on the +opposite shore. Scotty followed. + +Rick lifted his head cautiously. He saw only the marsh grass and the +back of the blind. He tapped Scotty, who rose until his head was level +with Rick's, his face only a few inches away. They pulled off their +masks. + +"We can swim under the blind and look out the front," Rick whispered. +"There's enough brush to give us cover. We'll each pick our own spot and +go to it. Sound all right?" + +"Okay. Better fix our guns right here, though." + +It was good advice. Rick removed the safety cap from his spear, making +sure the barbed shaft was properly seated. Now he needed only to flick +off the safety catch and fire. Scotty did the same. + +"You go right and I'll go left," Scotty suggested softly. "Be better if +there's a little spread between us. We'll also want to find places where +we can look out. There's some weed along the shore, and I think I +remember a brush pile around a stake near the right-hand edge of the +lawn. One piling is there. There's a bunch of old pilings off to the +left where the original pier was. I can see if there's cover there. If +not, I'll find something." + +Scotty had worn his waterproof watch. It was just four minutes to eight. +Time to get going. + +The boys shook hands, grinned at each other, and pulled their masks back +on. They ducked under the blind, side by side, and swam to the front of +the structure where brush from last year's cover remained. + +Cautiously Rick peered out, then sucked in his breath. A truck had been +wheeled out of the barn. It had a dish antenna on top. And next to the +truck, a mass of black plastic was slowly inflating. A flying stingaree! + +Rick looked quickly for a spot to which he could swim. Near the edge of +the cut lawn was the piling Scotty had mentioned. It was tall, with a +light on it for night navigation. Rick realized he had seen it on +earlier trips, but had not noticed it particularly because his attention +had been on the house and its occupants. Slightly upstream from the tall +piling were a series of stakes, saplings pushed into the bottom to +indicate the limits of water deep enough for a boat. Around three of the +pilings brush and grass had gathered, picked up from the current. The +middle pile was highest. Rick decided to head for it. + +Scotty was also searching for a hiding place. Apparently he found one +that was satisfactory, because he gripped Rick's shoulder for a moment, +then submerged. Rick saw him as a shadow, hugging the bottom. + +Now was the time. Rick took a deep breath to quiet his taut and shaky +nerves, then sank to the bottom and began the last leg of the trip. It +was only a few dozen yards to the sapling he had chosen. He reached it +and glanced upward. The mass of debris made a black blotch on the bright +surface of the water. Moving with infinite caution and using the sapling +as a guide, he swung his legs under him and rose to a sitting position. +The debris was still above the level of his eyes, so he swung his legs +back again and knelt. The kneeling position brought his head to just the +right level. He lifted his face and looked at the debris. Working +cautiously, he brought a hand up and poked a hole through. His fingers +enlarged the hole until he could see sufficiently. + +The flying stingaree was tugging at the rope that held it! The shape was +almost perfect, Rick thought, but he doubted that it had been designed +to look like a sting ray. More likely it had been picked to look as +little like a conventional balloon as possible. Well, it had served its +purpose. + +Merlin, alias Lefty Camillion, and his electronics wizard were fitting a +rocket into a loop on a plastic strap that dangled from the balloon. +Rick couldn't see it clearly, but thought it was a replica of the one he +had recovered. + +There was sound from the truck containing the dish antenna. Rick pulled +his mask away to hear a little better and heard a loudspeaker, +rebroadcasting something. + +"... reports no aircraft within range limits. We are now at thirty-one +minutes and counting. On my mark the time will be zero minus thirty +exactly." + +There was only the crackle of the loudspeaker. The set was tuned in on +the Wallops Island command frequency, Rick realized. That was how +Camillion and company knew when to release the balloon, and when to +trigger the rocket! + +Camillion's bodyguard was manning the rope holding the balloon. It was +attached to a ring on the truck. As Rick watched, the bodyguard let out +more line and the balloon rose slightly, tugging at the rope, and moving +toward Rick. The tail hung down almost to the ground, the rocket hanging +at an angle at its end. + +The loudspeaker voice said, "Stand by. Mark! Zero minus thirty." + +The bodyguard reached up and cut the rope! + +Rick saw the flying stingaree heading directly toward him, rising +slowly, caught by the ground wind. He brought his spear gun into +position and rose to his full height, snapping off the safety catch. +Oblivious to the yells from the lawn, he aimed and fired. With a sharp +hiss, the spear flashed through the air--into the balloon and right +through it! + +The balloon didn't even falter. It would take time to lose sufficient +gas to bring it down. The wind swept it right toward Rick, still rising. +As it passed over him, the dangling rocket would be almost within reach. + +Rick didn't hesitate. He saw the track of the balloon curving, as the +wind shifted direction downstream over the water. He threw himself to +one side and forward, dropping the spear gun, one hand outstretched. The +rocket slapped into his palm and his fingers closed around it. The jerk +pulled him forward and he grabbed with his other hand, missed, and +grabbed again. This time he caught the rocket, and both hands gripped +tight. + +The flying stingaree lifted him, dragging him through the water. Rick +spun around at the end of the line, and caught a glimpse of the +bodyguard raising a pistol to shoot at him! Then the scene whirled and +he saw Scotty, standing in water to his waist, spear gun lifted to fire. + +[Illustration: _The flying stingaree lifted him!_] + +Rick saw the spear leave his pal's gun, and he whirled his head in time +to see the bodyguard looking down with horror at the shaft protruding +from his side. + +The boy didn't see the piling. His last quick impression was of the +bodyguard falling forward, then there was a stunning impact as the side +of his head met creosoted wood and darkness flooded in. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +Lucky Lefty + + +Rick awoke to fiery agony. His face was burning, the flames searing his +flesh. He tried to reach a hand up to ease the pain and found the hand +gripped firmly. He struggled, and Steve's voice said, "Take it easy, +Rick. We'll be through in a minute." + +The boy subsided and gritted his teeth. If Steve was there, it was okay. +But why didn't Steve put out the fire? + +"Don't move," Steve said sharply. "I don't want to hurt you any more +than I can help." + +Rick closed his eyes and fought the pain. He heard Steve say, "Give me +the spray can." Then something cool and soothing spread over his face. + +An arm circled his shoulder and raised him to a sitting position. He +opened his eyes and looked into Scotty's worried face. Rick managed a +grin. "It's okay," he said hoarsely. + +"If being alive is okay, then it's okay," Scotty said with relief. "But +you're a mess, boy." + +Rick looked up dazedly. Steve was smiling at him, and next to Steve, +Orvil Harris! "Glad you're all right," the boy murmured. + +"Thanks, Rick. I'm glad you finally came around. You had us worried for +a bit. And, Rick, meet my cousin Link." + +A tall, gaunt man stepped forward. "Howdy, Rick? How do you feel?" + +"Woozy," Rick said honestly. "Help me up, somebody." + +Scotty lifted him, then guided him to a lawn chair. "Sit down. You're +too weak to stand." + +Rick subsided gratefully. He could see better now, although it was +nearly dark. There were other people seated in chairs on the Calvert's +Favor lawn. Camillion, his electronics expert, and two others. At full +length, covered by a blanket, was the guard. He looked up at Rick, his +eyes dull and malevolent, but he said nothing. + +"What happened?" Rick asked. + +Joe Vitalli stood behind Camillion and company, his riot gun ready. The +JANIG agent was wet up to his armpits. Chuck Howard came into sight from +behind Rick, and he carried an open first-aid kit. + +"You jumped for the balloon," Steve reminded him. He motioned to the +bodyguard. "This one tried a pot-shot at you and Scotty nailed him with +a spear. Then you smashed into the piling and got knocked out. The +piling was rough. Your mask was ripped off and your face dragged along +the wood just enough to take the skin off and leave you full of +splinters. We were taking the biggest splinters out when you came to. +How does your face feel?" + +"Awful," Rick said. The soothing effect of the antiseptic spray was +wearing off and the pain was returning. "Where's the balloon?" + +"On the ground behind you. Scotty got to you first, and with his weight +on it, the thing finally came down." The young agent grinned admiringly. +"We had to pry your hands off the rocket. Never saw such a stubborn cuss +in my life. Out cold, and still holding on." + +"Persistent," Rick said weakly. "Not stubborn. Did you round up the +whole gang?" + +"The whole lot." + +Lefty Camillion glared at Rick from a chair on the other side of the +small circle. + +"Why did you do it?" Rick asked. "What did you hope to gain?" + +The syndicate chief shrugged, but kept his silence. + +"I can shed a little light," Steve said. "Some of it is speculation, but +it stands up. Lefty knew his appeal against the deportation order was +almost certain to be turned down. Within a few weeks he'd be on his way +out of the country. The FBI has been trying to get the full dope on +Lefty, and one thing they found was that expensive living had taken most +of his money. He needed cash, in other words. This was the way he chose +to get it, collecting the data transmitted by the research rockets from +Wallops and selling it." + +Rick shook his head, then winced. "It's a crazy idea," he said. "I don't +know why. I just know it is. I could tell you, but I can't seem to +think." + +There were sirens far away, but getting closer. Scotty put a hand on +Rick's shoulder. "Don't try to think now, old buddy. The ambulance is +coming. Plenty of time to talk when you're feeling better." + +Rick nodded weakly. It was getting very dark. He closed his eyes and +leaned back. Scotty kept a hand on his shoulder. + +The ambulance, led by a state trooper, pulled into the grounds. An +attendant and an intern jumped out. "Who's hurt?" the intern asked. + +"This one first," Steve said. "Then the one on the ground." + +Rick felt a hand grip his chin and opened his eyes. The intern was +examining his face with a strong flashlight beam. + +"Messy but superficial," the intern said calmly. "I'll bet it hurts." + +"You win," Rick muttered. + +"How did it happen?" + +Steve described Rick's accident briefly. The intern nodded. He shined +the light into Rick's eyes and watched the pupils contract. "Possible +concussion. We'll check at the hospital." He knelt and took a roll of +cloth from his bag and unwrapped it to disclose hypodermic needles in a +sterile inner wrapper. He fitted a needle to a syringe and found a +bottle of alcohol and a vial of sedative. Working swiftly, he wiped the +vial top and Rick's arm with alcohol, then drew fluid into the syringe. +"This will help the pain," he said, and pressed the needle into Rick's +arm. + +"Now," the doctor said briskly, "let's look at the next one. What +happened to him?" + +"Fish spear in the side," Steve replied. + +Scotty and the attendant helped Rick to the ambulance. He lay down on +the stretcher gratefully and closed his eyes. Scotty stayed with him +while the attendant went to help with the bodyguard. + +"Quite a party," Rick said faintly. + +Scotty covered him with a blanket. "You missed most of it, but I'll give +you the details tomorrow. How are you feeling?" + +"Groggy." Rick's eyes were closed. He was never sure at what point he +drifted off into deep slumber. He knew only that he had no recollection +of the bodyguard being placed next to him or of the ambulance leaving +Calvert's Favor. + +Rick awoke to bright daylight. The pain in his face had subsided to a +faintly aching stiffness and he felt fine. He knew from the surroundings +that he must be in a hospital, probably at Cambridge. He groped for the +call bell and found it wound around the bedpost. He pushed it. In a few +moments a nurse came in. + +"Well," she greeted him, "how are you this morning?" + +"Hungry," Rick replied promptly. + +The nurse, a pleasant-faced woman of middle age, smiled. "That's a good +sign. Let's see what we can do. Ready for visitors?" + +"Send them in," Rick said cheerfully. "Or is it just one?" + +"Two." The nurse went to the door and beckoned. "I'll send in some +breakfast," she said, and left. + +Rick's hand touched his head gingerly. The right side of his face was +bandaged, the pad held in place by tape that crossed his forehead and +circled down under his chin. He probed gently and discovered that the +sorest places were his temple and an area just in front of his ear. + +Steve Ames and Scotty came in and greeted him with wide smiles. "The +nurse says you're hungry," Steve said. "Sounds like the old Rick." + +Scotty asked, "How about crab cakes for breakfast?" + +"Bring 'em on, followed by a dozen steamed clams and an order of +fritters," Rick replied. "How's the bodyguard?" + +"Well enough so his disposition is pretty nasty," Steve reported. "He'll +be here for at least a week before the jail cell opens wide. Seriously, +Rick, are you all right? Apparently there was no concussion." + +"I'm fine," Rick assured him. "But I'll bet this bandage makes me look +like a survivor of Custer's Last Stand." + +Steve and Scotty drew chairs up to the bed. "One last look by the doctor +and we'll take you home," Steve told him. "If you feel up to it." + +"What'll I do for clothes?" Rick asked. + +"They're in your closet," Scotty replied. "We brought them with us. Last +night we took your gear home after the hospital folks peeled you out of +it." + +"Good." Rick looked at his two friends. "Now suppose you tell me what +happened last night? I must have been out like a light while the +excitement was running high." + +Scotty nodded. "I'll start. I was behind one of the pier piles when the +bodyguard cut the balloon loose. I jumped out for a clear shot, but by +then you had put your spear through the thing. I was going to add mine +for good luck when I saw the bodyguard reach for the old equalizer and +draw a bead on you, so I shifted targets. I looked back at you just in +time to see you dangling from the stingaree like an extra tail. And +right then you went boom into the piling. But would Brant ever let go of +evidence? Not you, ol' buddy. There you dangled, limp as a wilted banana +while the balloon drifted along with you. I started toward you as fast +as I could go, which wasn't very fast with water up to my waist." + +"Wish I could have seen it," Rick said with a grin. + +"So do I," Scotty assured him. "Camillion and his friends were also +somewhat interested in you. They started down the lawn, and I was sure +they'd get to you before I could. Only then Joe and Chuck stepped out of +the bushes not ten yards from where I'd been hiding, and yelled to the +lads to hold fast and get their hands high. Steve stepped around the +corner of the barn with a .45 in his mitt and emphasized the point. +Lefty and company got the idea and skidded to a stop with all brakes +locked. I put on more speed, and Steve joined the chase." + +"I didn't see you hit the piling." Steve picked up the story. "But I +heard it. When I saw that the boys had things under control with their +shotguns, I stepped on it and got to you a few seconds after Scotty had +grabbed you by the waist. When I saw your face, I had a few bad moments +until I could take a closer look. You were a bloody mess, to put it +mildly, with more than a few splinters adding color. But I could see +your manly beauty wasn't gone forever. We pried you loose from the +rocket and stretched you out on the lawn. Your pulse was pretty good and +you were breathing steadily, so we gave you a few whiffs of oxygen from +Scotty's tank for good luck." + +Rick could appreciate how worried his friends must have been in spite of +their half-humorous report. + +"Lefty spoke up," Steve continued. "It was the only time he spoke. He's +said nothing since. He said, 'There's a first-aid kit in the kitchen.' +We got it, and went to work on you. Of course we put in a call to the +police, and asked for an ambulance. Joe Vitalli kept a watch on the +crowd and Chuck went into the barn while we pulled splinters out of you. +He found Orvil, and he also found Lincoln Harris." + +"I remember meeting him," Rick nodded. "I was too groggy to be +surprised." + +"He was okay. They hadn't mistreated him. Link said he had gone up the +creek just in time to see them launch a balloon with a rocket on it, and +they got the drop on him with rifles, then grabbed him. His curiosity +got the better of him. He'd heard about the people at Calvert's Favor +and decided to take a look, the waterways being free to all navigators. +Orvil had a bump on his head, but otherwise was all right. Lefty hasn't +talked, but I suspect he had plans for their release, once he was safely +out of the country." + +"Where is Lefty?" Rick asked. + +"He and his friends are in the local jail. You know, Lefty is a chump. +But he's also an excellent example of what happens to people when they +start operating in unfamiliar fields." + +"Why is he a chump?" Rick demanded. + +"Because every bit of data he went to so much trouble to collect was his +for the asking, if he'd only waited until it was processed." + +The light dawned. Rick knew at once what Steve meant. "That's what was +trying to get to the surface in this addled brain of mine last night. Of +course! Wallops Island is an unclassified launch site. Everything about +the launchings is reported in scientific publications! But, Steve, the +Soviet Embassy was interested in buying the stuff!" + +Steve chuckled. "Sure, but not for a very high price, I suspect. The +Reds are so suspicious they can't believe that a country like the United +States can afford to give away data. They'd buy the tapes just to make +sure we weren't holding back information they could use." + +"Even a casual investigation would have told Lefty the data from Wallops +firings is published by scientific publications," Scotty pointed out. +"How could he have been so stupid?" + +"He fell into a natural trap," Steve answered. "Most people think there +is military secrecy connected with rocket firings. They don't make a +distinction between the civilian space agency and the military services. +But the law does. It says the National Aeronautics and Space +Administration is required to report on its scientific findings." + +"And it does," Rick concluded. "Dad has already written a report on the +instruments for measuring solar X rays. The scientists who actually use +the instruments will also write a report on the data they obtained." + +"That's it," Steve agreed. "What's a little more puzzling is why the +electronics expert didn't know. I suspect he has been concerned only +with the design of telemetry equipment and not with any actual +launchings or space experiments." + +"Maybe he did know," Scotty offered. "He might have kept quiet just to +get money from Lefty for doing the work on intercepting the data. You +know we had the clues, but it never occurred to us there might be a +connection between Wallops Island and the stingarees, because who could +imagine going to all that trouble to intercept open, unclassified data +you can get by asking for it?" + +Rick had to laugh. "Whether he knew or not, it's still a joke on Lefty, +and on us for not suspecting the connection. And poor Lefty won't have a +nest egg to take back to Europe with him." + +"He won't need a nest egg," Steve corrected. "Lefty violated the law by +kidnaping Link and Orvil. I don't know whether we can make a federal +espionage rap stick or not, since the data he was collecting was +unclassified. But we'll try. Anyway, he won't be going back to Europe. +He'll end up in a Maryland prison, or a Federal one. Either way, it'll +be some years before he has to worry about money." + +"Lucky Lefty," Rick said. "A cell of his own, plenty of food, and no +worries about money. We did him a favor." + +Steve grinned. "Just don't expect any gratitude for a favor like that!" + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +Hunt the Wide Waters + + +The cruising houseboat _Spindrift_ moved sedately across Eastern Bay, +off the main Chesapeake Bay, toward the town of Claiborne. It was a +lovely day with a blue sky dotted with occasional fair-weather clouds. +The temperature was in the low eighties, the wind gentle, and the water +warm. + +Rick Brant sat on the bow of the houseboat, with his feet dangling over. +Next to him sat Jan Miller. His sister Barby, with their mother and +father, were relaxing in deck chairs on the sun deck, while Scotty +piloted the boat. + +Now and then the bow dipped, and the spray splashed up in a cooling +shower. Rick enjoyed the feeling of the cool spray, and the taste of +salt on his tongue. Jan did, too. Rick thought she made quite a picture +with her white bathing suit and golden tan contrasting with her dark +hair. His one regret was that he couldn't swim with Jan, Scotty, and the +family. Both Jan and Barby were expert Scuba divers, and he had looked +forward to spearfishing with them in the bay. The girls had brought +their own Scuba equipment in the luggage compartment of Hartson Brant's +car. + +Rick's bandages had been reduced to a single jumbo-size gauze patch, but +his folks would not allow him to go swimming until his face was entirely +healed. He knew they were right, though he chafed under the restriction. +Even so, swimming was really only a small part of the fun of +houseboating, and the ban on swimming wouldn't last long. + +Jan had put on a fresh bandage for him after breakfast that morning, and +remarked in her soft voice, "It will be completely healed in another day +or two, Rick. You can go swimming then." + +Meanwhile, he had found an acceptable substitute. Steve Ames was a +subscriber to _Bowhunting Magazine_, and in a back issue Rick had found +an article on fishing for sting rays with bow and arrow. Steve had +loaned a bow, and Rick had invested in fishing arrows and a reel for the +bow. So far, he had found only one sting ray, and in his excitement he +had failed to take into account the refraction of the water. He aimed +where the ray seemed to be--but wasn't. + +Rick's pretty, blond sister called down to him. "Rick! There's a sand +bar at the tip of that point." + +He looked to where Barby was pointing and saw a good-sized sand bar +extending out under the water. "I see it, Sis. Thanks. It will be a +while before we get there." + +Jan smiled at him. "Going to try again?" + +"You bet I am. Got to catch up with you somehow." + +Jan had bagged a ten-pound rockfish underwater on the day before, and +they had baked it in a driftwood fire on a beach at Poplar Island. Rick +was as proud as though the catch had been his own. He had been Jan's +diving instructor and had taught her how to stalk a fish. + +"You can catch up day after tomorrow when the folks will let you dive," +Jan assured him. + +"Can't wait that long," Rick replied. "I'm going to find a fifty-pound +ray right now." + +"Go get your bow," Jan said. "I'll join the others and we'll all spot +for you." + +Rick got to his feet and gave Jan a hand up. He went down the catwalk to +the cabin while she went up the ladder to the top deck. + +The bow was in the closet. Rick checked the string, then strung the bow +and selected two arrows. He went out on deck and stopped at Scotty's +side. "Looks like a good place. Cruise slow and easy and be ready to +maneuver. If there's a ray there, I want it." + +"Okay. Go for broke, Robin Hood. What I can't understand is why you +don't shoot for something edible." + +"Can't," Rick said cheerfully. "Edible-type fish don't hang around +waiting for boats to bring bowmen close." + +He climbed the rear ladder to the upper deck and joined his family. +Hartson Brant smiled at his son. "Next time we let you go off by +yourself don't get involved in mysteries. Then you won't have to bowhunt +inedible sea animals." + +"It's fun," Rick returned. "I'd want to do it even if I could spear +fish. Want to take a shot?" + +"I'll take a shot after you've boated your first ray." + +"Fair enough," Rick agreed. + +Mrs. Brant asked, "Where are we going, Rick?" + +He pointed to the peninsula. "Around that land. There's a creek on the +other side called Tilghman Creek. The cruising guide says there's a good +anchorage just inside. If it looks all right, well spend the night +there. If not, we'll go across to the Wye River. Tomorrow we'll go down +the Miles River to the town of St. Michaels and put in supplies." + +The scientist smiled at his wife. "It's nice to relax and have our +children do the work and the thinking, isn't it?" + +"It's too good to last," Mrs. Brant returned. + +Barby and Jan were standing far forward, close to where the cabin top +curved downward to the forward deck. Rick joined them. + +"This is fun!" Barby exclaimed. "Rick this houseboat was the best idea +you ever had!" + +"We all should have traveled down together," Jan said. "Then the whole +family could have been in on the case of the flying stingaree." + +"That will be the day," Barby replied. "When Rick Brant lets us in on +any real adventures, I'll know the world is coming to an end." Her tone +changed suddenly. "Look, we're getting into shallow water. Keep a sharp +lookout!" + +Rick went down the ladder to the foredeck and tied his arrowhead to the +fish line wound in the reel on his bow. He nocked the arrow and got +ready to shoot. He looked up at the two pretty girls standing above him. +"Let out a yell if you see a dark blot." + +Barby gave him a scornful look. "Of course we'll yell. Did you think we +were standing here waiting for flying saucers to land?" + +The houseboat plowed through a patch of sea grass and emerged over sandy +bottom. Rick kept careful watch, but he knew the girls would see the +first sign of a ray before he did, because of their higher vantage +point. + +Steve would enjoy this, he thought. The JANIG agent was back in +Washington, his vacation interrupted again because of the work that +remained on the case of Lefty Camillion. Lefty was in jail, too, along +with his friends. + +Rick shook his head. He was still amazed at the mobster's stupidity in +creating such an elaborate setup to get data that was his for the +asking. Apparently it just hadn't occurred to Lefty that a rocket range +could be without secrets. + +If there _had_ been secrets, though, the system was a good one. By using +the combination of a balloon and a rocket, Lefty got his equipment high +enough to intercept Wallops Island telemetry, and he did it without +anyone suspecting he was launching rockets. The rockets and balloons +dropped into the ocean, unseen--or, if seen, the first thought would be +that they had come from Wallops. The shape of the balloons also kept +anyone from suspecting that the theft of data was the real purpose. It +was a fine scheme, even though it had all been unnecessary. + +The girls let out a yell that startled Rick from his reverie. Scotty +immediately throttled back, and the boat's momentum carried it forward. +Rick watched the water, and finally saw a dark blur on the sandy bottom +ahead and to the left. He drew, then waited until he saw the dark patch +move. This time he allowed for the water's refraction. He loosed the +arrow. + +The stingaree felt the impact and reacted violently. Its tail lashed up +to strike with sharp barbs at the intruder. The tail lashed the arrow +shaft without effect. The ray's wings moved in a rippling motion like +that of some weird flying carpet. It flashed upward, and into the air, +then crashed back on the surface of the water again. It dived, heading +for the bottom. + +Rick kept the drag on his reel, letting the ray fight against the +braking action. The fish didn't give up easily. It had the primitive +nervous system and great vitality of its relatives, the sharks, and it +fought long after an edible fish, like a rockfish, would have given up. + +When the ray moved toward the now stationary boat, Rick reeled in line. +When the ray showed a new burst of energy and started away, Rick let it +fight against the drag, pulling out line. + +The girls were down on the foredeck with him now, and Scotty had joined +the Brants on the upper deck in order to get a better view of the fight. + +Finally, the ray tired. Rick drew it in close to the hull and waited +while the vicious tail lashed futilely. Jan took the gaff that Scotty +handed down to her and gave it to Rick. He hooked the sea beast and +lifted it from the water. + +"Stand clear!" he warned. "I don't want either of you getting hit with +that tail!" + +The girls hurried up the ladder to safety, and Rick lifted the stingaree +to the deck. + +It was a small one, weighing about fifteen pounds. The wet, leathery +body glistened, and the kite-shaped wings flapped like those of some +fantastic bird. + +Scotty looked down at the ray. "You caught a cripple," he said. "There's +something wrong with it." + +Rick looked up. He knew the answer, but he asked the question anyway, +grinning. "Yes? What's wrong with it?" + +"It can't fly," Scotty said. + + * * * * * + +RICK BRANT SCIENCE STORIES + +[Illustration: RICK BRANT] + +Rick Brant is the boy who with his pal Scotty lives on an island called +Spindrift and takes part in so many thrilling adventures and baffling +mysteries involving science and electronics. You can share every one of +these adventures in the pages of Rick's books. They are available at +your book store in handsome, low-priced editions. + + THE ROCKET'S SHADOW + THE LOST CITY + SEA GOLD + 100 FATHOMS UNDER + THE WHISPERING BOX MYSTERY + THE PHANTOM SHARK + SMUGGLERS' REEF + THE CAVES OF FEAR + STAIRWAY TO DANGER + THE GOLDEN SKULL + THE WAILING OCTOPUS + THE ELECTRONIC MIND READER + THE SCARLET LAKE MYSTERY + THE PIRATES OF SHAN + THE BLUE GHOST MYSTERY + THE EGYPTIAN CAT MYSTERY + THE FLAMING MOUNTAIN + THE FLYING STINGAREE + THE RUBY RAY MYSTERY + THE VEILED RAIDERS + RICK BRANT'S SCIENCE PROJECTS + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Flying Stingaree, by Harold Leland Goodwin + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30401 *** diff --git a/30401-h.zip b/30401-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d302690 --- /dev/null +++ b/30401-h.zip diff --git a/30401-h/30401-h.htm b/30401-h/30401-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bf7893e --- /dev/null +++ b/30401-h/30401-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5576 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Flying Stingaree, by John Blaine. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + .sidenote {width: 20%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em; margin-left: 1em; + float: right; clear: right; margin-top: 1em; + font-size: smaller; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: dashed 1px;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .footnotes {border: dashed 1px;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-align: left;} + .poem br {display: none;} + .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} + .poem span.i0 {display: block; margin-left: 0em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i2 {display: block; margin-left: 2em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} + .poem span.i4 {display: block; margin-left: 4em; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} +--> + </style> + </head> +<body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30401 ***</div> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<h1>THE FLYING STINGAREE</h1> + +<h2>BY JOHN BLAINE</h2> + +<h3>A RICK BRANT SCIENCE-ADVENTURE STORY</h3> + + +<h4>GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS<br /> +NEW YORK, N. Y.</h4> + +<h4>BY GROSSET & DUNLAP, INC., 1963</h4> + +<h4>ALL RIGHTS RESERVED</h4> + +<h4><i>Printed in the United States of America</i></h4> + +<h4>[Transcriber's note: Extensive research found no evidence<br /> +that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</h4> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<h4><i>To</i><br /> +<i>my sons</i>,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Chris</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Derek</span>,<br /> +<i>who have watched the stingarees</i><br /> +<i>from the sun deck of the</i><br /> +<i>cruising houseboat</i><br /> +<i>Spindrift</i></h4> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="frontis1" id="frontis1"></a> +<img src="images/frontis1.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3><i>Spindrift Island</i></h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE FLYING STINGAREE</h2> + + +<p>What's shaped like a sting ray and flies over Chesapeake Bay? This is +the eerie riddle which confronts Rick Brant and his friend Don Scott +when, seeking shelter from a storm, they anchor the houseboat +<i>Spindrift</i> in a lonely cove along the Maryland shore and spot the +flying stingaree.</p> + +<p>The "thing," they learn, is not the only one of its kind—one is +actually suspected of having kidnaped a man!</p> + +<p>The residents of the Eastern Shore of Maryland believe the strange +objects are flying saucers, but, weary of ridicule, have ceased +reporting the sightings.</p> + +<p>Rick and Scotty, their scientific curiosity aroused, begin a +comprehensive investigation, encouraged by their friend Steve Ames, a +young government intelligence agent, whose summer cottage is near the +cove.</p> + +<p>As the clues mount up, the trail leads to Calvert's Favor, a historic +plantation house—and to the very bottom of Chesapeake Bay. How Rick and +Scotty, at the risk of their lives, ground the eerie menace forever +makes a tale of high-voltage suspense.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="frontis2" id="frontis2"></a> +<img src="images/frontis2.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3><i>Little Choptank River</i></h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I <span class="smcap">Chesapeake Bay</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II <span class="smcap">The Flying Stingaree</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III <span class="smcap">Orvil Harris, Crabber</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV <span class="smcap">Steve's Place</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V <span class="smcap">The Face Is Familiar</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI <span class="smcap">The Saucer Sighters</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII <span class="smcap">Sighting Data</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII <span class="smcap">Calvert's Favor</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX <span class="smcap">The Duck Blind</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X <span class="smcap">Ken Holt Comes Through</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI <span class="smcap">On the Bottom</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII <span class="smcap">Night Recovery</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII <span class="smcap">The Night Watchers</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV <span class="smcap">Daybreak</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV <span class="smcap">The Empty Boat</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI <span class="smcap">Steve Waits It Out</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII <span class="smcap">Crowd at Martins Creek</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII <span class="smcap">The Stingaree's Tail</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX <span class="smcap">Lucky Lefty</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX <span class="smcap">Hunt the Wide Waters</span></a><br /><br /> +<a href="#RICK_BRANT_SCIENCE_STORIES">RICK BRANT SCIENCE STORIES</a><br /> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + + +<p><a href="#frontis2">Little Choptank River</a></p> + +<p><a href="#illus2">Scotty fitted the camera to the telescope</a></p> + +<p><a href="#illus3">Now to find out what he had</a></p> + +<p><a href="#illus4">The flying stingaree lifted him</a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>Chesapeake Bay</h3> + + +<p>The stingaree swam slowly through the warm waters of Chesapeake Bay. +Geography meant nothing to the ray, whose sole interest in life was +food, but his position—had he known it—was in the channel that runs +between Poplar Island and the town of Wittman on the Eastern Shore of +Maryland. The ray was also directly in the path of an odd-looking +cruising houseboat, the <i>Spindrift</i>, that had just rounded the north +point of Poplar Island and entered the channel.</p> + +<p>The sting ray's color was an olive brown, so dark in tone that he looked +like wet black leather. He was roughly diamond-shaped, like a kite, with +rounded sides. He had a long, slim tail that carried vicious barbs along +the base of its upper side. It was from the barbs, which served as +defensive weapons, that the name sting ray, or stingaree, derived. The +ray was harmless to men—unless one chanced to step on him as he lay +resting on the bottom ooze. At such rare times, his tail would lash up, +inflicting a serious and painful wound.</p> + +<p>A tiny crab, hatched only a week before, swam upward toward the gleaming +surface, his churning legs making a slight disturbance. The ray sensed +the small vibrations and instantly changed course, speeding through the +water like a fantastic spaceship of the future. Intent on the crab, the +ray ignored the stronger vibrations caused by a pair of outboard motors +and a long, flat-bottomed hull. Not until the crab was within reach did +the ray sense imminent danger. With a single flashing movement, he +snatched the crab and flung himself upward through the shining surface +and into the air.</p> + +<p>Rick Brant, at the helm of the cruising houseboat, saw the ray break +water and he let out a yell. "Scotty! Look!"</p> + +<p>Don Scott, asleep at full length on the houseboat's sun deck, which was +also its cabin top, awoke in time to see the dark shape reenter the calm +water. "Stingaree!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>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 eastern +land and water birds, regional fish and reptiles, rested on the cabin +top before him, along with a pair of binoculars. He had used them all +repeatedly, identifying eagles, wild swans, ospreys, wild duck and +geese, terrapin, snapping turtles and water snakes, as well as a horde +of lesser creatures. Trailing lines over the houseboat stern had +captured striped sea bass, called "rockfish" locally, a species of +drumfish called "spot" because of a black spot on the gills, pink +croakers that the Marylanders called "hardheads," and the blue crabs for +which the bay is famous. He had seen clam dredges bringing up bushels of +soft-shelled, long-necked clams that the dredgers called "manos," and he +had seen the famous Maryland "bugeyes" and "skip-jacks"—sailing craft +used for dredging oysters. The boats were not operated during the oyster +breeding season from the end of March until September.</p> + +<p>Rick's interest in the life of the great bay was to be expected. As son +of the director of the world-famous Spindrift Scientific Foundation, +located on Spindrift Island off the coast of New Jersey, he had been +brought up among scientists. The habit of observation had developed +along with his natural—and insatiable—curiosity.</p> + +<p>The tall, slim, brown-haired, brown-eyed boy was completely happy. He +enjoyed casual living, especially on the water, and life on the +<i>Spindrift</i> couldn't have been more casual. He was dressed in a tattered +pair of shorts and a wristwatch. Once, in the cool of the evening, he +had slipped on a sweat shirt. Otherwise, the shorts had been his sole +attire while on board since leaving his home island a few days before.</p> + +<p>Scotty, a husky, dark-haired boy clad only in red swimming trunks, came +down 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 we +are? Last thing I remember, we were passing under the Bay Bridge off +Annapolis."</p> + +<p>"That's Bloody Point Lighthouse behind us," Rick said. "Poplar Island is +on the starboard and the Eastern Shore to port. That black thing +sticking up ahead of us is a light buoy. When we reach it, we should be +able to see the range markers into Knapps Narrows."</p> + +<p>Scotty checked the chart on the table hinged to the bulkhead formed by +the rear cabin wall. "What time is it?"</p> + +<p>Rick glanced at his watch. "Five after six. Time for chow. Want to +rustle up something? Or shall we eat at Knapps Narrows? The cruising +guide says there's a restaurant there."</p> + +<p>"Let's eat out," Scotty replied promptly. "I'm sick of my cooking—and +yours. I'd like some Maryland crab cakes like those we had in Chesapeake +City."</p> + +<p>Rick remembered with pleasure. "Suits me."</p> + +<p>"Think we'll get to Steve's tonight?" Scotty asked.</p> + +<p>"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 before +reaching Steve's. I don't want to tackle these Chesapeake backwaters at +night."</p> + +<p>The destination of the houseboat was the summer cottage of Rick's old +friend, Steve Ames, who was also a chief agent of JANIG, the top-secret +Federal security organization. The boys, and the Spindrift scientists, +had worked on several cases for JANIG, starting with the adventure of +<i>The Whispering Box Mystery</i>. Steve was responsible for Rick's ownership +of the houseboat, which had been named for Rick's home island on the +grounds that it was now his "home away from home."</p> + +<p>Rick's first glimpse of the houseboat had been from the air. At the +request of Steve Ames, he, Scotty, his sister Barby, and Jan Miller, +daughter of one of the Spindrift physicists, had been searching the +coast of New Jersey for signs of strangers in the area. Barby had +spotted the houseboat, which at that time was painted a bright orange. +Later, the houseboat had played a major role in the adventure of <i>The +Electronic Mind Reader</i>, and Rick had fought for his life and the safety +of the two girls in the very cabin behind which he now stood. The +houseboat had been impounded by Federal authorities, and recently Steve +had mentioned to Rick that it was to be auctioned. After consulting with +his family, Rick had entered a bid for the boat. His bid had been the +only one, and he became owner at what was close to a salvage price.</p> + +<p>It was Rick's pride that his chief possessions had been bought with his +own money, and the houseboat was no exception. Like his first plane, the +Cub, he expected the houseboat to pay its own way. Rick had recovered +his investment in the Cub by using it to operate Spindrift Island's +ferry service to the mainland. Rick flew the scientists to Newark +Airport when they had to catch planes, or he flew to Whiteside for +groceries, or into New York to pick up parts and supplies. The houseboat +could not be used in the same way, but he was sure he could get its +price back by renting it to summer visitors to the New Jersey area. He +had repainted it in two shades of green with a white top, and had made a +few other improvements.</p> + +<p>Before renting the boat, however, he intended to have an extended +houseboat vacation. He and Scotty had left Spindrift Island, headed +south into Manasquan Inlet, and then sailed into the inland waterway. By +easy stages—the houseboat could make only ten miles an hour—they had +moved 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's +summer cottage.</p> + +<p>Rick's parents, with Barby and Jan, were now on their way to Wallops +Island rocket range operated by the National Aeronautics and Space +Administration. Hartson Brant had business there in connection with +instruments the Spindrift group of scientists had designed for measuring +solar X rays. The instruments would be launched in rockets. Wallops +Island was near Chincoteague, Virginia, just across the +Maryland-Virginia border on the long peninsula called "The Eastern +Shore" that runs between Chesapeake Bay and the Atlantic Ocean. By car, +Wallops was less than two hours from Steve's summer cottage.</p> + +<p>As soon as his business was concluded, Hartson Brant planned to drive to +Steve's, where the Brants and the two girls would join Rick and Scotty +for a vacation on the houseboat. There was plenty of room. The +<i>Spindrift</i> was thirty feet long and ten feet wide, and had two cabins. +Four could sleep in the forward cabin, and two amidships where the +galley, dinette, and bath were located. Steve had agreed to drive the +Brant car to Spindrift on his next trip to New York. The houseboat, with +the full clan aboard, would travel leisurely back to the home island.</p> + +<p>Rick was delighted with the arrangements. The Brants—and that included +Scotty, who had become one of them after his discharge from the United +States Marine Corps—were a close-knit family whose members enjoyed +doing things together. Rick considered Jan Miller, Barby's dearest +friend, a welcome addition to the party.</p> + +<p>"Range light ahead," Scotty said.</p> + +<p>Rick nodded. The light was set atop a black piling. The color meant he +would have to pass it to port, then pick up the red beacon at the +entrance to the Narrows, passing the red beacon to starboard. This was +in accordance with the old sailors' rule: <i>red right returning</i>, which +means keep red markers and buoys on the starboard, or right, when +returning from seaward. It was fun navigating in strange waters. He had +never 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.</p> + +<p>The houseboat plowed ahead, its twin outboards purring. Its bow, rounded +like the front of a toboggan, slapped into a slight swell. Rick passed +the range light and headed for the red tower that marked the opening of +the Narrows. In a few moments they were in the Narrows, passing lines of +docked crab, oyster, and clam boats. There was a bridge ahead, with a +gasoline dock in its shadow. Rick gauged wind and current and decided +how he would maneuver into place. The current was heavy in the channel, +running in the direction in which he was headed.</p> + +<p>"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 us +facing the way we came, so we won't have to turn when we leave."</p> + +<p>In a short time the maneuver was completed. Rick edged the rounded nose +of the houseboat against the seawall as Scotty stepped ashore carrying +the bowline. He snubbed it tightly around a piling and held fast while +the ungainly boat swung with the current. Rick stepped to the seawall +with the stern line as the craft swung completely around, and the boys +made the boat fast.</p> + +<p>"Now," Scotty said, "let's gas up and eat."</p> + +<p>After filling the gas tanks, loading the icebox with fresh ice, and +topping off the water tank, the boys slipped into shirts, slacks, and +shoes, then headed for the restaurant that adjoined the dock. Over +delicious, spicy Maryland crab cakes and coffee, they talked with the +proprietor, a friendly, heavy-set Eastern Shore man who spoke with the +typical slurred accents of the region.</p> + +<p>"Quite a boat you got there," the man said.</p> + +<p>Rick grinned. "It does look sort of odd, but it's comfortable."</p> + +<p>"Expect so. Thought it was a seagoin' flyin' saucer when I saw it comin' +through the Narrows."</p> + +<p>Scotty munched crab cake appreciatively. "Seen many flying saucers +around here?" he asked whimsically.</p> + +<p>"A few."</p> + +<p>The boys stared.</p> + +<p>The man smiled at the reaction. "Didn't expect that? It's true. We see +one now and again."</p> + +<p>"Really?" Rick asked.</p> + +<p>"Sure as geese fly. Don't know that they're really flyin' saucers like +we read about in the Washington and Baltimore papers—we get both—but +they're somethin' strange. Not natural, anyway."</p> + +<p>The boys looked at each other. There was no doubt that the proprietor +believed what he was saying. He was as casual as though reporting a +catch of fish.</p> + +<p>"Seen any recently?" Scotty inquired.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Funny we haven't seen anything about it in the papers," Rick commented.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know. Used to be we'd report 'em, and the papers carried a +few lines. But the way the stories got written, you'd think us Eastern +Shore folks were short a few marbles. We got tired of being laughed at, +so no one says much about the saucers any more."</p> + +<p>"But lots of people see them?" Scotty asked.</p> + +<p>"Sure. Anyone that happens to be outdoors."</p> + +<p>"Ever report these sightings to the authorities?" Rick wanted to know.</p> + +<p>"Did at first. Called the State Police myself. The Coast Guard boys are +located right here at the Narrows, and they reported to Baltimore. +Nothin' happened. The authorities aren't sold on flyin' saucers, you +might say. I guess the last report was when Link Harris was kidnaped by +one."</p> + +<p>Rick's scalp prickled. "You honestly mean someone was kidnaped by a +flying saucer?"</p> + +<p>"It's the only thing we can think of. Link went out to set his crab +lines, like always, and never came home. We set out to find him, and we +found his boat all right, but no Link. One of the saucers was seen by +several folks, and they said later it seemed right over where he was +workin' at about the time he was there."</p> + +<p>The boys digested this startling information. "Maybe he was drowned," +Rick ventured.</p> + +<p>"In a creek? Not likely! Link's been crabbin' for thirty years in these +waters. Water was smooth. Not a ripple, even out on the bay. Even if he +fell 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. Shore +wasn't more than twenty yards away."</p> + +<p>"Maybe he hit his head when he fell," Scotty suggested.</p> + +<p>"Possible, but even if he drowned we'd have found his body."</p> + +<p>Rick shook his head. "It's hard to believe a man could be kidnaped by a +flying saucer. Couldn't he have gone ashore and walked out of the area? +Maybe he <i>wanted</i> to disappear."</p> + +<p>"You're mighty hard to convince," the proprietor said good-humoredly. It +was clear he didn't particularly care whether they were convinced or +not. He was making conversation just to be sociable. "Where Link was +settin' lines is just a little creek with marsh all around. No man with +any sense would get out of a boat and go ashore into marshland, now +would he? Besides, there's no reason Link would want to disappear. He +lived all alone and did about what he pleased. Crabs netted him enough +money for his needs."</p> + +<p>"How long ago did this happen?" Rick asked.</p> + +<p>"Two, three weeks. Not long."</p> + +<p>"Where?" Scotty queried.</p> + +<p>"Few miles south. In a creek off the Little Choptank."</p> + +<p>"That's where we're going!" Rick exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"So? Well, watch for Swamp Creek. It's on the chart. That's where they +got Link. Where you headed?"</p> + +<p>"A place called Martins Creek," Rick replied.</p> + +<p>"Uh-huh. Well, Martins is on the south shore, and Swamp Creek is on the +north, about three miles closer to the river mouth. You'll pass it on +the way. Better keep an eye open. That boat of yours might attract +flyin' saucers the way a decoy attracts ducks."</p> + +<p>Rick saw the twinkle in the proprietor's eye. "We'll set a bear trap on +the upper deck," he said. "Any flying saucer tries to pick us up, the +pilot will catch one of his six legs in it."</p> + +<p>"Likely," the man agreed. "You catch one, bring it to the Narrows, will +you? Always wanted to see one at close range."</p> + +<p>"We'll do that," Rick agreed, and no premonition or hunch warned him how +close he and Scotty would come to carrying out the promise.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>The Flying Stingaree</h3> + + +<p>Someone once said that the Chesapeake Bay "looks like the deck plan of +an octopus," but the mental image created by the phrase tells but a +fraction of the story. Rivers and creeks empty into the bay by the +dozens, and every river, and most of the creeks, have tributaries. Even +some of the tributaries have tributaries. The result is thousands of +miles of navigable waters, forming a maze of waterways that it would +take most of a lifetime of weekend cruising to explore.</p> + +<p>The cruising houseboat <i>Spindrift</i> moved steadily across the mouth of +one of the principal waterways of the Eastern Shore, the Choptank River. +It was a good three miles across the river's mouth, and Rick occupied +the time by reading aloud to Scotty, who was piloting.</p> + +<p>"'The Choptank River is navigable for large ships to the city of +Cambridge, a principal Eastern Shore port. Yachts will find the river +navigable for twenty miles beyond Cambridge, depending on their draft, +while boats of shallow draft can cruise all the way into the State of +Delaware.'" Rick paused in his reading and looked up. "Be fun to go up +one of these rivers to the source, wouldn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Maybe we can," Scotty replied. "Read on."</p> + +<p>"'The name Choptank comes from the Choptank Indians who lived in the +area until the middle of the nineteenth century. These Indians were +first discovered by Captain John Smith when he sailed into Chesapeake +Bay in search of a location for what later became the Jamestown +Colony.'"</p> + +<p>"We're sailing through history," Scotty commented. "And we'd better step +on it." He pushed the throttles forward. The houseboat accelerated to +its top speed of about twelve miles an hour.</p> + +<p>"What's up?" Rick demanded.</p> + +<p>"Look to the southwest. That must be one of those Chesapeake Bay squalls +the book warns about."</p> + +<p>There was a black line of clouds some distance away, but Rick could see +that the squall line was moving fast, crossing the bay in their +direction. He swung the chart table up and studied the situation. They +were close to the south shore of the Choptank River now, and the chart +showed no easily accessible place of shelter in the vicinity. They would +have to run for the Little Choptank, the next river to the south. The +chart showed several creeks off the Little Choptank. They could duck +into the one nearest the river mouth.</p> + +<p>"Can we ride it out if we have to?" Rick asked.</p> + +<p>Scotty grinned. "We'll find out, if we have to. But I'd rather not be in +open water when a squall hits this barge. It's not built for storms. +Keep your fingers crossed and hope we get to cover before it hits."</p> + +<p>"I hear you talking. I'm going to do a little research." Rick ducked +into the cabin and took the tide tables from the bookshelf. Back on +deck, he leafed through the official publication and found that the +nearest point for tidal data was the Choptank River Light, only a few +miles away and clearly visible. High and low tides at the light were +about three hours and fifteen minutes earlier than Baltimore, the data +station for the area. Rick checked Baltimore data for the date, +subtracted quickly, and glanced at his watch.</p> + +<p>"High tide in about a half hour. The chart shows three feet near shore +at mean low water. High tide will bring it up to four and a half at the +very least. That's plenty for this barge. Get inshore and cut corners. +We won't have to stick to the channel."</p> + +<p>Scotty swung the wheel instantly, and the houseboat took a new course, +leading them closer to shore. "Better keep an eye out for logs or +pilings," Scotty warned. "No rocks in the area, so we don't have to +worry about shoals."</p> + +<p>The wooded shore slid by, the trees gradually giving way to low scrub +and marsh grass as they neared the mouth of the Little Choptank. Rick +alternately kept an eye out ahead and checked their position on the +chart. They were in about five feet of water, more than enough for the +shallow-draft houseboat. His principal worry was the outboard +propellers. He didn't want to break one on a log that might be sticking +up underwater.</p> + +<p>The squall was closer now, and the sky was growing dark. Rick estimated +that they had no more than ten minutes before the storm would hit. He +had to look up at a sharp angle to see the storm front. Visibility was +down to zero directly under it. Whitecaps and a roiling sea told him +there was plenty of wind in the squall. He doubted that the houseboat +could head into it successfully. The wind would catch the high cabin +sides and force the houseboat onto the shore.</p> + +<p>Scotty swung around the northern tip of land that marked the mouth of +the Little Choptank. "We won't make it," he said, glancing at the chart.</p> + +<p>Rick nodded. "But the wind will be behind us. We can drive right into +the mouth of the nearest creek. According to the chart, there's a cove +just inside the mouth where we ought to be out of the wind." He put his +finger on the place, and suddenly a chill ran through him. The nearest +safe harbor was Swamp Creek, where Link Harris had vanished!</p> + +<p>There wasn't time to talk about it. He would have to be prepared to drop +the anchor quickly. "I'm going up on the bow," he said. "Once into the +creek, turn as hard as you can into the wind, then cut the power. I'll +heave the anchor over and the wind pressure on the boat can set it. But +keep the motors turning over in case it doesn't hold."</p> + +<p>"Got it," Scotty agreed.</p> + +<p>Rick stepped out of the cockpit onto the catwalk. The cabin top was just +chest-high, and he could hold on by grabbing the safety rails that ran +along the sides of the large sun deck. He moved swiftly along the walk +to the foredeck, a small semicircular deck used primarily for docking +and anchoring. The anchor line was coiled on a hook on the curving front +of the cabin, and the patent anchor was stowed on the deck itself. Rick +took the coil and faked down the line in smooth figure eights so it +would run out without fouling, then made sure the anchor was free and +ready to go.</p> + +<p>When Rick stood up and looked down the length of the cabin top at +Scotty, he saw that the squall was almost on them. The turbulent cloud +front was directly overhead. He saw the wind line, marked by turbulent +water, move swiftly toward the houseboat. The <i>Spindrift</i> rocked as +though shaken by a giant hand, and its speed picked up appreciably. The +houseboat began to pitch as the chop built up around it. Visibility +dropped suddenly; it was almost dark. Rick winced as large, hard-driven +raindrops lashed into his face, then he turned his back to the storm and +stared ahead.</p> + +<p>The creek mouth was in sight. He pointed to it for Scotty's benefit, but +when he turned to look at his pal, the driving rain slashed into his +eyes and made him look away.</p> + +<p>Scotty had seen the creek mouth. Staying as close to shore as he dared, +Scotty drove the houseboat to within fifty yards of the narrow mouth, +then swung the helm hard. The wind, which had been astern, was now abeam +and its force was acting on the high side of the boat. The houseboat +slewed sideways, and for a moment Rick thought they would be driven on +to the upstream bank of the creek. But Scotty had judged his distance +and wind pressure well. The boat shot into the creek mouth with feet to +spare.</p> + +<p>The cove opened up ahead. Scotty reversed one motor and the houseboat +turned almost in its own length. Rick watched the shore through +squinting eyes, and the moment he saw the boat's forward motion cease, +he dropped the big anchor over. The wind caught the houseboat again and +drove it backward into the cove while the anchor line ran out. When he +had enough line out for safety, Rick snubbed it tight around a cleat, +held the taut line between thumb and forefinger until he was sure it had +none of the vibrations caused by a dragging anchor, and then hurried +back along the catwalk to the cockpit. He and Scotty ran from the +rainswept deck down the two steps into the cabin.</p> + +<p>For a moment the two stood grinning at each other and listening to the +heavy drumming of the rain on the cabin top, then Rick spoke. "We'd +better get out of these wet clothes so we can sit down. This may last +for an hour or so."</p> + +<p>Scotty agreed. "First one into dry shorts makes the coffee."</p> + +<p>"That's me," Rick said. He stripped off the soaking clothes, toweled +quickly, and put on dry shorts. The rain had chilled the air, so he +reached into the drawer under the amidships bunks, took out a sweat +shirt, and pulled it over his head. It felt good.</p> + +<p>Scotty had taken time to dry off the books and binoculars he had brought +from the deck before he changed his own clothes. By the time he was +dressed in dry shorts and sweater, Rick had the alcohol stove going and +water heating for coffee.</p> + +<p>"Know where we are?" Rick asked casually.</p> + +<p>"Sure. We're—" Scotty stopped. "For Pete's sake! I didn't make the +connection at first. We're in Swamp Creek, where that man got snatched +by a flying saucer!"</p> + +<p>"Right. Worried?"</p> + +<p>Scotty grinned. "Any flying saucer that can navigate in this weather is +welcome to what it gets. How's the anchor?"</p> + +<p>"Holding," Rick said. "I hope." He looked out the galley window and +watched the shore. It changed position as the boat moved, but that was +only because the houseboat was swinging at anchor. "Seems all right," he +added.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later coffee was ready. The boys sat at the dinette table +and sipped with relish, listening to the storm outside. It seemed to be +increasing in intensity.</p> + +<p>"Picking up," Scotty said. "The guidebook wasn't kidding when it said +'sudden and severe summer storms lash the bay.'"</p> + +<p>"Wonder how long they last?" Rick asked.</p> + +<p>"Hard to say. Perhaps an hour."</p> + +<p>The houseboat jerked suddenly. Rick jumped to his feet. "Did you feel +that?"</p> + +<p>The boat heeled under the lash of wind. Rick peeled off his sweat shirt. +"Feels as though the anchor dragged a little. I'm going out and let out +more scope. We can't take a chance of drifting in this wind."</p> + +<p>"I'll go," Scotty offered.</p> + +<p>"No. I put the anchor down. It's my fault if it slips. Stand by."</p> + +<p>Rick pulled the cabin door open and winced at the blast of raindrops, +like heavy buckshot on his face and body. For a moment he hesitated, +then realized the sooner he got it over with, the better. He hurried to +the catwalk and swung down it, meanwhile estimating his distances. He +could let out another fifty feet of anchor line without getting the boat +too near shore. The more anchor line out, the better the anchor could +hold.</p> + +<p>He made the forward deck and looked around, realizing that the wind +direction had changed and that the blast was now coming down the creek, +swinging the houseboat around. That probably was why the anchor had +shifted. He knelt and took the line in his fingers. It no longer seemed +to be slipping, but it was better not to take a chance. He unloosed the +half hitches that held it to the cleat, threw off all but one +figure-eight turn, and let the anchor line run out slowly. When he +estimated about fifty feet had run through, he put on more figure eights +around the cleat, then dropped half hitches over to secure the line. +Once more he reached out and held the taut line. It didn't seem to be +slipping. He pulled on it hard, and felt the boat move. The anchor was +in solidly this time.</p> + +<p>Rick turned and started back to the catwalk, rain lashing his back. +Sudden instinct made him whirl around in time to see something huge and +black rushing at him out of the storm. Rain blurred his vision. He had a +swift impression of a black figure, shaped like a diamond, coming at +him. He threw himself flat on the foredeck. There was a rustling sound +overhead, and something clanged off the cabin top's aluminum rail. Rick +was on his feet again. Heart pounding, he looked around. There was +nothing but rain and wind. He stood upright and looked across the cabin +top. For an instant he glimpsed a black object above the canopy over the +rear cockpit, then that, too, was lost in the rain.</p> + +<p>Shaken, Rick made his way back to the cabin, entered, closed the door, +and leaned against it. Scotty looked up, and was on his feet in an +instant.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus56.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Rick! What happened? You're white as a sheet!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Saw one," Rick managed. He was still shaking. "It went right over the +boat. I think it hit the upper rail. We'll check later. But it wasn't a +flying saucer. I'm sure of that."</p> + +<p>"What was it?" Scotty demanded.</p> + +<p>"A flying stingaree!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>Orvil Harris, Crabber</h3> + + +<p>Rick Brant awoke to the sound of a motor. For a moment he lay quietly in +his bunk, listening. The sun through the cabin windows told him it was +early in the morning. The sunlight still had the red quality of early +sunrise. He watched the light shift as the houseboat swung on its +anchor.</p> + +<p>By the time the storm last night had ended, darkness had set in, and it +was only sensible to turn on the anchor light and remain in the Swamp +Creek cove for the night. In spite of his unsettling experience, Rick +and Scotty had not been deeply disturbed. Neither he nor Scotty believed +in flying saucers—at least, not in saucers that kidnaped people, and +the object Rick had seen had not been saucer-like. It had been shaped +like a stingaree.</p> + +<p>Stingarees don't fly.</p> + +<p>Rick smiled to himself. During another vacation, skin diving in the +Virgin Islands, he and Scotty had proved that octopuses don't wail. But +if stingarees don't fly, he asked himself, what looks like a stingaree +and <i>does</i> fly?</p> + +<p>He realized suddenly that the sound of the motor was louder once again. +Someone investigating the houseboat? He swung out of bed. The cool air +of morning was in sharp contrast to the warmth of his sleeping bag. +Quickly he slipped into shorts and sweat shirt. As he opened the cabin +door, he heard the slap of bare feet on the deck behind him and turned +to see Scotty regain his balance after dropping from the upper bunk.</p> + +<p>"Go ahead," Scotty called. "Be right with you."</p> + +<p>"Okay." Rick stepped out into the cockpit and glanced around. It was a +lovely morning. The ever-present birds of the Chesapeake area were +already active. A huge blue heron stepped daintily in the shallows like +a stilt walker afraid of falling over. The heron was looking for small +fish or anything that moved and was edible. An osprey, the great fish +hawk of the bay region, swooped overhead on lazy wings, sharp eyes alert +for small fish near the water's surface. In the pine woods behind the +shore marsh, a bluejay called, its voice like a squeaky hinge.</p> + +<p>The motor sound was distant now, and the shore upstream blocked Rick's +view. Then, as he watched, a long, low, white motorboat came into sight. +Its bow was vertical, its sides low. There was no cabin. Amidships was a +single man, clad in overalls and a denim shirt. The man was surrounded +by bushel baskets, and he held a long-handled crab net made of chicken +wire.</p> + +<p>Rick watched with interest. On one side of the boat was a roller that +extended out over the water. A heavy cord came out of the water, crossed +the roller, and dipped back into the water again. Every few feet there +was a chunk of something on the cord, apparently bait. As Rick watched, +a piece of bait came up with a crab clinging to it. The net swooped and +the crab was caught, pulled inboard, and dumped into a bushel basket +with one fluid motion. The crabber never took his eyes from the cord. +The boat continued in a straight line.</p> + +<p>Scotty came out on deck and joined Rick. The boys watched in silence +while the man caught a dozen crabs, then picked one from the bait and +flipped it into the water.</p> + +<p>"Too small, I guess," Rick commented.</p> + +<p>"Must be. Where does the line go?"</p> + +<p>Rick pointed. A gallon oilcan, painted blue and white, bobbed gently in +the creek. "That's where he's heading."</p> + +<p>The crabber approached the can, then flipped the line off the roller. +Using a lever next to him, he turned the boat and headed toward another +can some distance away. A quick pull with a boat hook and the line +attached to the can was placed over the roller. Crabs appeared, holding +onto the bait as the boat moved along the new line. Rick counted. The +crabber was getting about one crab for every three baits.</p> + +<p>Scotty leaned over the cockpit rail. "There's the end of his line, over +near shore. He'll pass close to us."</p> + +<p>"That's why the motor sounded loud," Rick guessed. "He moves from one +line to another. Last time he came by the boat he woke me up."</p> + +<p>"Same here." Scotty nodded.</p> + +<p>The crabber moved methodically, his boat proceeding at a steady pace +toward the houseboat. As he came abreast, he called, "Mornin'."</p> + +<p>The boys returned the greeting.</p> + +<p>"Looks like a good catch," Scotty called.</p> + +<p>"Fair. Only fair." The crabber scooped up a huge blue crab from almost +under their noses and went on his way.</p> + +<p>"If it's only fair now, what must it be like when it's good?" Rick asked +with a grin.</p> + +<p>"Two crabs on every hunk of bait," Scotty said. "You count crabs and +I'll make coffee."</p> + +<p>"That's my boy," Rick said approvingly.</p> + +<p>Scotty went into the cabin and left Rick watching the crabber. Rick +tried to figure out all the details. After a short time he concluded +that the floats were attached to anchors of some kind. The anchors kept +the crab line on the bottom, except when it was running over the roller. +He also saw that there were no hooks or other gadgets. The crabs were +caught simply because they refused to let go of the bait.</p> + +<p>The aroma of coffee drifted through the cabin door, and Rick wondered +why it is that coffee, bacon, and other breakfast scents are so much +more tantalizing on the water.</p> + +<p>The crabber approached on the leg of his journey closest to the boat. On +impulse, Rick called, "Come aboard and have some coffee?"</p> + +<p>The man grinned. Without missing his smooth swing at a rising crab, he +called back, "Don't mind. That coffee smell was drivin' me nigh crazy. +Be back when I finish this line."</p> + +<p>Rick leaned into the cabin. "Company for coffee, Scotty."</p> + +<p>"Heard you. Got another cup all ready. In here or out there?"</p> + +<p>"Out here. It's too nice to be inside."</p> + +<p>In a few moments the motorboat, which turned out to be as long as the +houseboat, came alongside. Rick took the line thrown by the crabber and +made it fast so that the crab boat would drift astern. He looked into +the boat with interest. Covers on four baskets showed that the crabber +had collected four bushels of crabs. A fifth and sixth basket were half +full, one with very large crabs, the other with smaller ones.</p> + +<p>The crabber swung aboard. He was of medium height, with light-blue eyes +set in a tanned and weather-beaten face. Rick guessed his age to be +somewhere in the mid-forties. He smiled, showing even teeth that were +glaringly white in his tanned face.</p> + +<p>"Name's Orvil Harris," he announced.</p> + +<p>"Rick Brant." Rick shook hands. "That's Don Scott coming out with the +coffee."</p> + +<p>Scotty put down the coffeepot and mugs he was carrying and shook hands. +"Call me Scotty, Mr. Harris. How do you like your coffee?"</p> + +<p>"Strong and often," Harris replied. "Plain black. Call me Orvil."</p> + +<p>Like all visitors, Harris was interested in the houseboat. "Been hopin' +for a look inside," he said in his slurred Eastern Shore accent. "Almost +gave up hope. You get up late, seems like."</p> + +<p>Rick glanced at the sun. "Must be all of seven o'clock. You call that +late?"</p> + +<p>"Been here since four. It's late for me."</p> + +<p>Rick showed Orvil Harris through the boat, then sat with him and Scotty +in the cockpit, sipping steaming coffee. The crabber talked willingly +about his business.</p> + +<p>"Not much profit," he reported, "but it beats workin'."</p> + +<p>After hearing about a crabber's life, rising in the middle of the night, +rain or shine, working crab lines and hauling baskets around until noon, +Rick wondered what Harris would consider hard work. Having spent a +dollar for six steamed crabs a few nights before, he was also amazed to +hear the crabber report that he received only six dollars a bushel for +"jumbo" crabs and three dollars a bushel for "culls," or medium ones. +All under four and a half inches from tip to tip were thrown back.</p> + +<p>Rick waited a courteous length of time before asking the question that +had been on his mind since hearing the crabber's name. "Are you any +relation to Link Harris?"</p> + +<p>"Second cousin." The blue eyes examined him with new interest. "Where'd +you hear about Link?"</p> + +<p>"At the Narrows," Scotty replied. "We were talking about flying +saucers."</p> + +<p>"Flyin' catfish," Harris said scornfully. "You swallow that yarn?"</p> + +<p>"Didn't you?" Rick asked quickly.</p> + +<p>"Not any. That why you picked this creek to anchor in when there's so +many nicer ones upstream?"</p> + +<p>Scotty explained. "We ducked in here to get out of that squall last +night. We didn't exactly pick it. Afterward, we realized where we were."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you believe the story about Link Harris?" Rick wanted to +know.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I believe some of it." The crabber took out a blackened, much-used +pipe and stoked it. "Link disappeared, all right. We found his boat +yonder." He pointed to a spot on the marshy shore.</p> + +<p>"He didn't drown?" Rick pressed.</p> + +<p>Harris shrugged. "Not very likely. We'd have found his body. Way the +tides were that day, there was no ebb tide strong enough to carry a body +out into deep water. The creek was clear. We'd have seen him."</p> + +<p>"Then where did he go?" Scotty demanded.</p> + +<p>"Can't say. When he disappeared, I went to Baltimore and bought every +book on flyin' saucers I could lay hands on. All I know for sure is that +what folks have been seein' around here ain't saucers. Shape's wrong, +color's wrong, and they don't move the way the books say."</p> + +<p>"Would you say they were diamond-shaped, dark in color, with tails?" +Rick asked carefully.</p> + +<p>Harris stopped with a match halfway to his pipe. "I would. For sure. +When'd you see one?"</p> + +<p>"Last night. Right here."</p> + +<p>"Mmmmm." Harris got the pipe going well and threw the match into the +water. "I've never seen one close. Hoped to. That's why I crab this +creek. Would you say it was big enough to catch a man?"</p> + +<p>Rick shook his head. "I didn't get a very long look, but I'd say +definitely not. Unless it had some kind of powerful motor I couldn't see +or hear."</p> + +<p>Harris puffed silently.</p> + +<p>"Any theories?" Scotty asked.</p> + +<p>"Not one. I'm barren as the flats in winter."</p> + +<p>Rick finished his coffee and put the mug down on the cabin top. "Would +Link have gone away of his own accord?"</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't think so." Harris accepted more coffee from Scotty. "But +let's keep one foot anchored. Who knows what's in a man's mind? Any man? +Sometimes there's a deep channel full of black water, and nothin' to +make you suspect it. Maybe Link did walk off. It would be the easiest +explanation—if you hadn't seen somethin' last night. I was about to +give up. Now I'm not so sure. What you saw came from somewhere, and it +was goin' somewhere. If we could find out whence and whither, so to +speak, we might have an idea of what happened to Link."</p> + +<p>Harris drew erect. "Speakin' of whence and whither, what's your +destination?"</p> + +<p>"We're visiting a friend," Rick answered. "He lives on Martins Creek on +the south side of the river. Name is Ames."</p> + +<p>Harris nodded. "I know who he is. Washington man. Has a summer place."</p> + +<p>"You've met him?" Scotty inquired.</p> + +<p>"So to speak. We've howdy'd, but we haven't shook."</p> + +<p>Rick smothered a grin at the picturesque phrase.</p> + +<p>"I'd better get back to crabs," Harris said. "I'm mighty grateful for +the hospitality. You get to town, look me up, and give me a chance to +return it." He shook hands with both boys, pulled his boat alongside, +and stepped aboard. In a short time, he was running the crab lines +again.</p> + +<p>"Interesting," Rick said noncommittally.</p> + +<p>Scotty chuckled. "Here we go again. Sherlock Brant's got his teeth into +a nice fat mystery. Good-by vacation."</p> + +<p>Rick had to grin. "It's not that bad," he said defensively. "I just +thought we might sniff around a little."</p> + +<p>"That's what I thought you thought. Come on, Hawkshaw. Let's get some +bacon and eggs on the fire and haul anchor."</p> + +<p>"Okay." Rick checked the chart. "We're only about twenty minutes' run +from Steve's place. If we eat here, he won't think he has to feed us +breakfast."</p> + +<p>"Considerate," Scotty agreed, grinning. "I can see you now. You walk up +the dock, shake hands, and say, 'Glad to see you, Steve. Don't bother +about breakfast. We've eaten. By the way, have you had any trouble with +flying stingarees?'"</p> + +<p>Rick grinned back. "Not bad predicting. Actually, I was going to wait +for the right opportunity, then say, 'Wonderful hunting and fishing +country, Steve. By the way, when does the hunting season open for flying +stingarees?'"</p> + +<p>Scotty laughed. "Okay. Only let's get going. I want to see how he +answers!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>Steve's Place</h3> + + +<p>A red buoy marked the entrance to Martins Creek. Rick, at the helm, +passed it close to starboard and headed into the center of the creek. +Past the wooded shores of the creek entrance, he could see fields, +obviously tended, and more woods.</p> + +<p>"Steve's place should be the second on the left," Scotty said. "The +first house with a dock."</p> + +<p>"Use the binoculars," Rick suggested. "We should be able to see it when +we round the next bend."</p> + +<p>The houseboat passed the first house, a small, modern dwelling set close +to the water. A rowboat was hauled up on the shore. The creek rounded a +wooded promontory and the next house came into view. Steve's!</p> + +<p>Rick's eager eyes saw an attractive farmhouse, set well back from the +water in a frame of willows and white oaks. There was an acre of green +lawn in front of the house, the lawn running down to the water's edge. A +small dock jutted out into the creek. Tied to one side of it was a +sturdy runabout with an outboard motor.</p> + +<p>"Pretty," Scotty approved.</p> + +<p>Rick nodded. The farmhouse was half frame, half white brick, with a +slate roof. It was apparently only one story high. On impulse, Rick gave +a long blast on the boat horn.</p> + +<p>The front door opened and a man looked out, then walked swiftly down to +the dock, waving. The boys waved back.</p> + +<p>"Get the lines ready," Rick requested. "I'll back in."</p> + +<p>He throttled down and let the houseboat move slowly past the dock while +he yelled a greeting to Steve Ames. There were no obstacles, and just +enough room for the boat. He reversed his motors and threw his helm hard +over, backing slowly into position. Scotty stood ready with a line, +which he heaved to Steve. Then Scotty ran lightly to the foredeck and +got the bowline ready. The houseboat nestled against the dock smoothly +and Rick killed the motors. Then the three old friends were shaking +hands and grinning from ear to ear.</p> + +<p>"I've been watching since yesterday afternoon," Steve told them. "That +storm last night worried me some. I didn't know whether you could ride +it out or not."</p> + +<p>"No trouble," Rick said. "We ran into Swamp Creek on the north side of +the river and spent the night there." He watched the agent's face +closely, but Steve didn't react.</p> + +<p>"Come on in," Steve invited. "Coffee's on. Had your breakfast?"</p> + +<p>"We ate before hauling anchor," Scotty said, grinning.</p> + +<p>Steve Ames knew the boys well. "Something's up," he stated. "Rick is +watching me like a suspicious sand crab and your tone of voice is wrong, +Scotty. Coffee first, then talk. Come on."</p> + +<p>Rick shook his head in admiration. It was impossible to catch Steve off +guard. The agent had a deceptive appearance, athletic and good looking, +with the forthright friendliness of a college undergraduate. But his +trained eyes and ears missed nothing.</p> + +<p>Steve's living room was attractive and comfortable, with bookshelves +between the windows, a stone fireplace, a striped rug, and deep, restful +chairs. There were lamps in exactly the right positions for reading.</p> + +<p>The agent brought in a tray of coffee cups, with a pot of coffee and +platter of doughnuts. "Even if you've eaten breakfast, you can manage a +couple of these." He poured coffee and made sure the boys were +comfortable, then sank into an armchair and looked at them quizzically.</p> + +<p>"All right. Out with it."</p> + +<p>Rick chuckled. "You're too sharp," he accused. "We had a plan all cooked +up. I was going to comment on the fishing and hunting, and then +ask—very innocently—when the season for flying stingarees opened."</p> + +<p>The agent's eyebrows went up. "Flying stingarees? Swimming ones, yes. +Open season any time. Flying ones, no. What is all this?"</p> + +<p>"Rick saw one last night in the storm," Scotty explained.</p> + +<p>"That's not all," Rick added. He told of their conversation at the +Narrows and of the talk with Orvil Harris that morning. "So there's +something fishy around here besides crabs and rockfish. We thought you +might know," he concluded.</p> + +<p>Steve shook his head with obvious admiration. "Leave it to the Spindrift +twins! If there's a mystery afoot, you'll unearth it. Nope, lads. Never +heard of your flying stingarees, or flying saucers, either. But that's +not surprising. I'm down here mostly on weekends, sometimes with a +friend or two, and the only local folks we see are at the store or gas +station. Usually I'm in too much of a rush for small talk. I don't get +the local papers, and when I listen to the radio or watch TV, it's +either a Washington or Baltimore station. So I'm not in touch with local +events."</p> + +<p>"Anyway," Rick said, "stingarees don't fly."</p> + +<p>Steve had been in the Virgin Islands, too, and had been involved in the +adventure of <i>The Wailing Octopus</i>. "You found out that the octopus +didn't wail," he reminded them, "but for a while it looked as though +you'd found a new species. Maybe this is the same thing. What makes the +stingaree fly?"</p> + +<p>"It would be fun to find out," Scotty admitted.</p> + +<p>"You'll have time to make a start, and I won't be in the way with plans +for fishing or crabbing. I'm sorry, boys, but I'll be in and out of +Washington for a few days. Got a hot case working that I can't leave for +long."</p> + +<p>The boys protested. "You deserve some vacation," Rick said hotly.</p> + +<p>Steve held up his hand. "Whoa! I'm getting a vacation. This case should +be settled in three or four days, and I'll be with you. Meanwhile, you +move in here. You can drive me to the airport at Cambridge and pick me +up when I come back. That will leave you a car, and you can use the +motorboat for exploring or for fishing. If you feel like skin diving, +you can try for rock or hardheads off the northern tip of Taylors +Island, right at the mouth of the river. Did you bring gear?"</p> + +<p>"The whole set," Rick replied. "Lungs, compressors, guns, and even +suits."</p> + +<p>"You won't need suits. The bay is shallow and warm. At night you can +relax right here. Plenty of books, TV, radio, or a chessboard. If it +gets cool, there's wood for the fireplace."</p> + +<p>"Sounds good," Scotty agreed. "But we wanted you with us."</p> + +<p>"I will be. Before the weekend."</p> + +<p>"When do you have to leave?" Rick asked.</p> + +<p>"Three this afternoon. I have an evening meeting at headquarters. I'll +be back on the four-o'clock flight tomorrow afternoon, and, with luck, I +won't have to go again. If I do, it will be only for a day."</p> + +<p>"Okay," Rick said reluctantly. "We'll settle in, but we won't move in. +We'll sleep on the boat. No need to use up your linens and stuff when we +have sleeping bags if the weather is cold and cotton blankets when it's +warm. Besides, housekeeping is easier on the boat."</p> + +<p>Steve grinned. "I'll bet it is. If I know you two, you eat out of cans +and never use a dish if you can help it. Your idea of washing a coffee +cup is to hold it under running water or to dip it in the bay. Wait +until your mother and the girls join you. Life will undergo a drastic +change."</p> + +<p>"Don't rub it in," Scotty said ruefully. "Now, how about showing us over +this estate of yours?"</p> + +<p>Steve was pleased by the request. He obviously was proud of his +creekside home, and with reason. There were fifty acres of land, mostly +oak forest, with a private access road. Electric power came in from the +public power lines, but he had a gasoline generator in case of failure, +and his own artesian well. He explained:</p> + +<p>"The house has been completely remodeled, but it's really quite old. +When it was built, there was only a wagon track. In those days, the +rivers and creeks were the highways, and the people traveled by boat. +You'll see old mansions fronting on the rivers here. The back doors face +the roads. Water transport was the reason. The landed gentry had barges +rowed by slaves. The poor folks rowed their own. Of course, there were +plenty of sailing craft, too. There still are."</p> + +<p>The creek in front of the house proved deep enough for swimming, and the +three went for a dip. Rick tasted the water. It was salty, but not like +the ocean. The backwaters of the bay were brackish, with low-salt +content.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon, the boys—somewhat reluctantly—got into what they +referred to as "shore-going clothes." These consisted of slacks, sport +shirts, light casual jackets, and loafers. Steve had a bag packed. They +got into his car, a late-model convertible, and headed for Cambridge.</p> + +<p>The plane, a small twin-engine craft, was late coming from Norfolk. By +the time Steve was en route to Washington, it was nearly the dinner +hour.</p> + +<p>"Eat out?" Rick suggested.</p> + +<p>"Absolutely. More crab cakes?"</p> + +<p>Rick shook his head. "Crab imperial. Maybe some steamed clams."</p> + +<p>"You're making me hungry," Scotty protested. "I'll say one thing for the +bay area. The folks eat well. How about some terrapin stew?"</p> + +<p>"Crab imperial," Rick said again. "Baked in a crab shell. Lots of +mayonnaise, paprika, and butter. I'll have a hearts of romaine salad on +the side, with oil-and-vinegar dressing. Maybe tarragon vinegar. A few +French fries, too. But first, a couple of dozen steamed clams. What do +they call 'em here? Manos, pronounced Man! Oh!"</p> + +<p>"Just tell me where," Scotty begged. "Say no more."</p> + +<p>"How about that place we passed just before we got to Cambridge? The one +built like a Colonial mansion."</p> + +<p>"The Bay Gourmet," Scotty remembered. "Okay. You're driving."</p> + +<p>Rick put the convertible in gear and moved out of the airport driveway +onto the highway. "We're on our own," he said. "It's up to us to +entertain ourselves. But food isn't enough. Man cannot live by bread +alone, the Scriptures say."</p> + +<p>"I knew it." Scotty slumped down in the seat and sighed. "Since man +cannot live by bread alone, his life must be filled with other things. +And guess what things!"</p> + +<p>Rick smiled in anticipation. "Uh-huh. Flying stingarees."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>The Face Is Familiar</h3> + + +<p>The Bay Gourmet was all that its outside appearance promised. A waiter, +elderly and courteous, his voice soft with the Eastern Shore accent, led +them to a table in a main dining room that was like something out of +early American history, Maryland style. The Maryland colony had not been +poor, and many of its settlers had been of the English nobility. They +had brought with them furniture, paintings, and chinaware from England +and France, and their homes were gracious and livable.</p> + +<p>The restaurant followed the pattern. Rick wouldn't have been surprised +to see the ghost of Lord Baltimore walk through one of the arches.</p> + +<p>The boys pored over the menus and finally settled on crab gumbo, clam +fritters, and crab imperial. While they waited, Rick opened the subject +that was on his mind. "How does a stingaree fly?"</p> + +<p>Scotty shrugged. "Easy. He climbs to the top of a tall tree, spreads his +wings, and takes off. He flaps his wings to gain altitude. He steers +with his tail."</p> + +<p>"I'm serious," Rick said sternly, his eyes twinkling.</p> + +<p>"So am I. Alternate method: the stingaree climbs on a fence and lassos a +passing airplane. Or catches a ride on an eagle's tail feathers. Take +your choice."</p> + +<p>"I've got a better way. The stingaree poses for his picture. The picture +is used as a model for making a kite, probably of black plastic. The +kite gets flown in the wind."</p> + +<p>Scotty stared. "Maybe—just maybe—you've got something there. The +stingaree shape would make a good kite. Could what you saw have been a +kite?"</p> + +<p>"It's possible." Rick nodded. "The wind was funneling down the creek +pretty fast, and it would have carried a big kite. There's only one +small difficulty. Why launch a kite that has no string?"</p> + +<p>"You certain it didn't have a string?"</p> + +<p>"In that wind, the string would have had to be a cable. I'd have seen +it, and maybe felt it. The kite—stingaree, that is—just missed. Of +course, the string might have broken."</p> + +<p>"There's another small difficulty," Scotty said thoughtfully. "If it was +a kite, where was it launched and why?"</p> + +<p>"Up the creek somewhere. We don't know what's up there."</p> + +<p>"True. From the looks, I'd say not much. Maybe some opossums and +muskrats, which don't launch kites."</p> + +<p>Rick spread butter liberally on a hot biscuit. "We can always take a +look."</p> + +<p>"We can. In Steve's boat, the creek would be only a few minutes away."</p> + +<p>Rick savored the biscuit and took another bite that finished it. "I +could eat a ton of these. What else would make a stingaree fly?"</p> + +<p>Scotty accepted a pitcher of honey from the waiter and poured a +disgraceful amount on a biscuit. "How about some kind of experimental +aircraft?"</p> + +<p>Rick shook his head. "The stingaree was vertical. An experimental plane +in that position would have to be rising straight up, and this creature +was traveling almost horizontally, with the wind. Besides, I heard no +motor or any kind of power plant."</p> + +<p>"You're as lucid as lamplight, ol' buddy. You explain everything—except +what made that stingaree fly."</p> + +<p>Rick grinned wryly. "I'll never get a swelled head with you sticking +pins in it."</p> + +<p>"Only carrying out my proper function," Scotty said virtuously.</p> + +<p>The first course had arrived. Crab gumbo turned out to be spicy, hot, +and very, very good.</p> + +<p>"I may decide to live here," Rick said as he spooned up the last +mouthful.</p> + +<p>"I'm a native already," Scotty stated. "The Chesapeake Bay is my home, +if the rest of the meal lives up to the soup."</p> + +<p>The clam fritters were light, crisp, and succulent. "Meet a brand-new +Marylander," Scotty announced.</p> + +<p>Rick started to reply, then stopped as a party of three entered the +dining room and were shown to a table nearby. He knew one of the men, +but he couldn't remember where they had met.</p> + +<p>"Scotty," he said softly, "look around at the group that just came in. +Who's the man in the plaid jacket? I know him, but I can't remember."</p> + +<p>Scotty's napkin "accidentally" fell to the floor. He had to turn to pick +it up. When he straightened, he shook his head. "The face is familiar, +but I can't place it."</p> + +<p>Rick studied the man through half-lowered lids, not wanting to be rude +by staring openly. The familiar face was lean, and lined. It was not a +pleasant face, although its owner would be described as a +"distinguished-looking man of middle age." The lips were not especially +thin, but they were tightly held. The chin was firm, with a shadow of +beard even though the man looked freshly shaven. His hair was crisp, +wavy, and pure white.</p> + +<p>"Could be of French or Italian ancestry," Rick said. "Or, maybe, Spanish +or Portuguese. Anyway, I'd vote for Southern European."</p> + +<p>"On the button," Scotty agreed.</p> + +<p>Rick's eyes dropped as the man looked their way. The eyes were dark +brown, he saw, with heavy lids. The eyebrows, in startling contrast to +the white hair, were dark.</p> + +<p>The boy looked up again, his glance guarded. The man was smartly, but +conservatively dressed, in dark-blue slacks, white sport shirt open at +the collar, and a linen sport jacket of subdued plaid, much like those +affected by some Ivy Leaguers.</p> + +<p>The other two men were not familiar. One was almost bald, with a wisp of +sandy hair combed in a pitiful and useless attempt to conceal the +baldness. He wore glasses with clear plastic frames. They sat on a nose +that could have served as a golf-ball model. His lips were almost +nonexistent, and his chin receded so far that Rick wondered why he +didn't conceal it with a beard. He seemed like a complete non-entity. In +contrast to the white-haired man's style of dress, the nondescript man +wore a rumpled black suit of synthetic fabric, a regular white shirt, +and a tie that a color-blind old aunt might have given him for Christmas +two decades past.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus78.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The third man was the largest of the three, with an expressionless face +and eyes that never stopped moving. He sat motionless in his chair, +apparently completely relaxed. Rick knew that the relaxation was +deceptive. Steve Ames at times looked relaxed like that, but it was the +same kind of quietness one finds in a coiled spring that has not yet +been released. The man had brown hair, light-brown eyes, and a heavy +tan. He spoke only twice while Rick watched, and then only to give +orders to the waiter. The other two men talked steadily, but in such low +tones that the boys could not hear words.</p> + +<p>The crab imperial arrived, and the riddle of the familiar face was +forgotten in a new taste treat. After one luscious bite, Rick said, "I'm +going to bring the folks here and order a duplicate of this meal. +They'll go crazy."</p> + +<p>Excellent food was a tradition in the Brant household. Mrs. Brant was a +superb cook, and both she and Hartson Brant had taught the Spindrift +young people to appreciate a well-prepared dish.</p> + +<p>"I'll order the same thing just to keep them company," Scotty offered.</p> + +<p>"Generous, always generous," Rick replied. "You'll eat the same thing +even if you have to force it down."</p> + +<p>"I'll do just that," Scotty agreed. "Remember where you've seen yonder +diner?"</p> + +<p>Rick shook his head. "Not yet. It's an odd trio. He's the dominant one +in the group. The bald one looks like a servant, and the big one like a +police dog on guard."</p> + +<p>"Bodyguard?" Scotty asked quickly.</p> + +<p>"Maybe. Or, perhaps, a chauffeur. It's hard to say."</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose the white-haired man is just a familiar type and we've +never seen him before?"</p> + +<p>"No. It isn't that. I know I've seen him before, but I can't tell you +where or when."</p> + +<p>The boys finished the meal with a scoop of lemon sherbet and rose +reluctantly. "We'll be back," Rick promised.</p> + +<p>"That we will," Scotty echoed.</p> + +<p>The old waiter bowed them to the door. As they were leaving, Rick +paused. "Do you know that white-haired man at the table near us?"</p> + +<p>"Why, sir, that's Mr. Merlin. Summer folks, you might say. He bought one +of the old mansions. This is his second summer with us."</p> + +<p>"Which one of the old mansions?" Scotty asked.</p> + +<p>"Calvert's Favor. It's in the guidebooks, sir. We have copies for sale +if you'd like one."</p> + +<p>"We have one," Rick replied. "Thank you."</p> + +<p>"Not at all, gentlemen. Hurry back."</p> + +<p>The boys walked into a lovely summer night, with a newly risen moon, +near fullness, floating just above the horizon. By unspoken agreement, +they put the top down on Steve's convertible. Rick was just snapping it +in place when he sensed someone standing next to him. He turned, to face +the big man of the trio.</p> + +<p>The man got to the point without preliminaries. "You were asking the +waiter about Mr. Merlin."</p> + +<p>"We thought he looked familiar, but we couldn't place him," Rick +replied. "We meant no discourtesy."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure you didn't," the man said smoothly. He didn't smile, even +though his voice was pleasant enough. "Mr. Merlin is a very prominent +man. He comes down here to get away from people. Naturally, he doesn't +welcome inquiries. I'm sure you understand."</p> + +<p>"We have no intention of intruding," Rick stated coolly. "As I said, he +looked familiar. We merely asked out of curiosity."</p> + +<p>"You're not local boys." It was a statement.</p> + +<p>"No. We're visitors."</p> + +<p>"The local people have learned not to ask questions about Mr. Merlin. I +suggest you follow their example." The man turned and walked back into +the restaurant.</p> + +<p>The boys stared after him, openmouthed.</p> + +<p>"If that poor soul only knew," Scotty said, "he picked the best possible +way to arouse our curiosity."</p> + +<p>"I haven't been warned so politely in a long time," Rick agreed. "Come +on, son. Let's head for Martins Creek." He slid behind the wheel while +Scotty got into the passenger side.</p> + +<p>Rick started the car and listened to it purr for a moment. "I noticed +that Steve has quite a few books about the Eastern Shore on his +bookshelves," he said casually.</p> + +<p>"So did I. Including one called <i>Tidewater Maryland</i>. Lots of pictures +of the old estates in that one."</p> + +<p>"Be interesting if there was a picture of Calvert's Favor, wouldn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Interesting and maybe informative. Well, are we going to sit here all +night?"</p> + +<p>"Nope. We're going to Steve's. Looks as if we have a small research +project."</p> + +<p>"To be followed by a second project," Scotty added. "First we read up on +Calvert's Favor, and then we find it and look it over."</p> + +<p>Rick grinned. "Nobody warns Scotty with impunity."</p> + +<p>"But nobody!" Scotty said cheerfully.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>The Saucer Sighters</h3> + + +<p>"We shoot a line straight north," Rick explained, "for a distance of +about twenty miles. Then we start asking questions. If we get +affirmative answers, we head north again for another ten miles and +repeat the process. We do this until we come to an area where saucers +have not been sighted. Okay?"</p> + +<p>Scotty nodded. "Okay. There is only one tiny flaw in this plan. If we +head straight north, we drop Steve's car into the Little Choptank. If we +cross that safely, we'll get wet in the main Choptank."</p> + +<p>Rick sighed. "If there is anything I detest, loathe, and despise, it is +people who get up in the morning feeling full of humor. We will go to +Cambridge, missing the Little Choptank, and cross the Choptank on the +bridge. Route 50 goes almost straight north. Is that more precise and +acceptable, Donald?"</p> + +<p>"It is indeed, Richard. I'm a stickler for accuracy."</p> + +<p>"You're a stickler in the mud. Let's get a notebook and start +traveling."</p> + +<p>A conference after dinner the night before had resulted in a plan of +action. The boys had decided to reduce all the rumors about flying +saucers to statistics that could be examined to see what elements the +various sightings had in common. The way to obtain the statistics was +through interviews.</p> + +<p>The problem of the white-haired man with the familiar face still +remained. Steve's books had disclosed that Calvert's Favor was famous, +that it had been so named by the original settler because he had been +granted the land by Lord Calvert, that it had changed hands only twice +in more than a century. What the books didn't give was its location. The +place was identified only as "a quiet creek, entirely within the +original land grant." There was no mention of a Calvert Creek in the +vicinity. They decided to put the question of its location aside until +Steve's return.</p> + +<p>It was a lovely morning. The convertible hummed smoothly over the +blacktop roads to Cambridge, onto Route 50, across the Choptank River +and north. Rick braked to a stop as the highway met the turnoff to +Easton. "Think we're far enough north?"</p> + +<p>Scotty had been consulting a road map. He shook his head. "Not yet. +Easton is almost due east of Knapps Narrows, and we know the saucers +have been sighted there. Better go on to Wye Mills."</p> + +<p>"Okay." The road was dual-lane cement, now, and Rick relaxed while the +car sped northward. "Odd name, Wye Mills. Lots of Wyes around here. +Three Wye Rivers on the chart, a Wye Landing, and a famous old Wye Oak."</p> + +<p>"Sounds like a song," Scotty said. "Wye, tell me Wye, are there saucers +in the sky—"</p> + +<p>"Please," Rick protested, "I'm in pain."</p> + +<p>Route 50 turned at Wye Mills, leading to the Chesapeake Bay Bridge that +crossed the bay to Annapolis. There was a gas station and lunch stand at +the intersection. Rick pulled in and drifted up to the gas pump. "Fill +it up, please. Any bottles of Coke around?"</p> + +<p>"In the machine." The attendant pointed to the red automatic vendor.</p> + +<p>The boys equipped themselves with Cokes and walked back to watch the +attendant fill the tank. "We must be somewhere near where all those +flying saucers were sighted," Rick remarked.</p> + +<p>The attendant looked up. "Farther south. Never heard of anyone this far +north seein' one. They see plenty down toward Cambridge. Ask me, they're +seein' spots in front of their eyes."</p> + +<p>The boys exchanged glances. When the car was ready, Rick turned and +started south again. "See any stores on the way where we could ask +again?"</p> + +<p>"There's a restaurant. I saw two grocery stores, too, but from the way +the attendant talked, we'll have to get closer to Cambridge." Scotty was +making a note in their notebook.</p> + +<p>Five miles back toward home, Rick stopped at another gas station and +asked the attendant to look at the oil. None was needed, so the boys +bought another pair of Cokes and engaged the man in conversation.</p> + +<p>"Ever see any flying saucers in this area?" Rick asked.</p> + +<p>"Nope. My brother did though, late one afternoon when he was on duty."</p> + +<p>Scotty took out the notebook. "We're trying to get some information +about them for a story we're writing. Do you remember when it was?"</p> + +<p>"Let's see. I was workin' in the evenin' that day, so it must have been +a Saturday. Last month, it was. Oh, I recall it now. Next day I took the +kids to my mother's. It was her birthday. That would make it the tenth."</p> + +<p>"Where was your brother when he saw it?" Rick queried.</p> + +<p>"Pumpin' gas. Right here. He said it sort of came up over the trees, +glittering like fire." The attendant pointed to a patch of trees down +the road. The direction was almost directly southwest.</p> + +<p>Scotty scribbled in the notebook. "Any other details you remember? What +time in the afternoon was it?"</p> + +<p>"Between four and five. Can't say exactly. He was still buzzin' when I +came on duty at six. Wanted to call the newspapers, but I talked him out +of it. People would think he was a fool."</p> + +<p>"Did you?" Rick asked quietly.</p> + +<p>"Nope. I know Chick. He's got a straight head on him. It may not have +been a flyin' saucer, but you can bet it wasn't anythin' common, or +anythin' he'd seen before."</p> + +<p>"Score one," Scotty said triumphantly as they drove off.</p> + +<p>"One flying saucer doesn't make a Martian invasion," Rick reminded him. +"Let's keep it up."</p> + +<p>By lunchtime they had interviewed a dozen people who claimed to have +seen flying saucers. All details of the sightings had been noted in +Scotty's book. During lunch, at a small restaurant in the old town of +Oxford, they scored three more times after interviews with fishermen.</p> + +<p>After lunch, they crossed the Choptank and headed south to the little +town of Vienna. From there the route led to the shore town of Elliott, +back to Vienna, and past the corner of Delaware to Salisbury, a +good-sized town on the Maryland Eastern Shore.</p> + +<p>There was a newspaper office in Salisbury. A chat with the editor and a +quick skim through the back files added more data to the growing list. +Rick had a hunch there was a pattern shaping up, but he could not be +sure until the information was all laid out for examination.</p> + +<p>By the time the boys met Steve at the small airport, both Rick and +Scotty had writer's cramp, and the notebook was nearly used up. They had +recorded over half a hundred sightings.</p> + +<p>Steve listened to a report of their day with an appreciative smile. +"Nothing like a mystery for keeping you two out of mischief," he told +them. "Want to eat out? Or cook a steak in the yard?"</p> + +<p>"Eat out," Scotty said promptly.</p> + +<p>"We can get steak at home," Rick added. "But not Chesapeake Bay clam +fritters or Maryland crab cakes."</p> + +<p>Steve had a favorite place of his own, a small, nondescript joint called +"Louie's Crab House" up the Choptank River, near the town of Denton. +There, on wooden trestle tables covered with brown wrapping paper, he +introduced them to a favorite Chesapeake Bay pastime known as a "crab +feast."</p> + +<p>The waiter set wooden blocks in front of them, with a round piece of +hardwood, a fork, and a sharp paring knife. A stack of paper napkins was +supplied, and individual pots of melted butter completed the setting.</p> + +<p>The boys waited impatiently, hungry, but trusting Steve's word that the +result was worth the wait. The waiter reappeared carrying a huge tray, +stacked with a towering pyramid of whole crabs, steaming and red, coated +with the spices in which they had been cooked. Placing the tray on the +table, the waiter asked, "Anything else?"</p> + +<p>Scotty said, dazed, "I don't believe there's anything else left in the +kitchen. We have all the crabs in the world right here."</p> + +<p>"Only three dozen," the waiter said. "Jumbos, of course. You want +anything, you yell."</p> + +<p>Unidentified flying objects were forgotten as Steve initiated them into +the proper method of eating fresh crab. It turned out to be quite an +art, but one that they mastered quickly. Soon all three of them were +munching succulent back-fin crab meat drenched in fresh butter. The +wooden block served as an anvil, and the round hardwood piece as a +hammer for cracking claws. The paring knife was used for trimming and +for scooping out delicious bits of meat. The fork was utilized to +persuade small tidbits to leave their shell cages. Three or four napkins +were used between each tidbit to mop buttery hands, and even chins, down +which the butter sometimes dripped. It was a feast, indeed.</p> + +<p>"If I hadn't been a heavy eater before, I'd be one after this," Scotty +observed happily.</p> + +<p>"Beats hunting flying stingarees," Rick agreed. "Pass another crab, +please."</p> + +<p>Not until the table had been cleared by the waiter, who simply removed +the utensils and tray, then wrapped up all the shells in the brown paper +and carried it off, did the conversation return to the mystery.</p> + +<p>Rick hadn't told Steve of last night's meeting with the white-haired man +or of the thinly veiled warning. He described them now in detail.</p> + +<p>"Odd," Steve said. "This familiar face needs identifying. No normal +person worries about anyone asking casual questions. That's a sure mark +of insecurity. In other words, the man is afraid. People who are afraid +often have something to hide. Do you have any reason to think he may be +tied up with the flying stingarees or saucers?"</p> + +<p>"None at all," Rick answered.</p> + +<p>"Do you know where Calvert's Favor is?" Scotty asked. "The location +wasn't given in your books. There was quite a lot about the plantation +house."</p> + +<p>"No, never heard of the place. But we'll find out when we pass through +Cambridge. I know a man there who knows everything about this area." +Steve held out his hand. "Let's see your notebook."</p> + +<p>Scotty handed it over. The young agent leafed through it rapidly. +"That's some list. If I had any doubt that people were seeing things, +it's gone now. How are you going to arrange the data?"</p> + +<p>"In tables, and on a map," Rick explained.</p> + +<p>"Fine. We can do it tonight. Want anything else?"</p> + +<p>Scotty groaned. "I couldn't even drink a glass of water."</p> + +<p>"Same here," Rick agreed.</p> + +<p>"Then let's leave the crabs behind and take a ride."</p> + +<p>On the way back to Cambridge, Steve Ames mused aloud. "You know, it's an +odd world. A few years ago there were flying saucer reports by the +dozen. Each one was given lots of newspaper space. The Air Force +conducted investigations. Then flying saucers got unpopular, the Air +Force closed its project, and the newspapers wrote a funny story every +time a report came in. Now we have a rash of sightings in one small +area. People talk about it, but no one gets excited. The authorities +brush it off as just hokum. Yet, your investigation today shows that +people are seeing <i>something</i>, even if we don't know what."</p> + +<p>Rick nodded thoughtfully. "What's even odder is that a well-known man +disappears, people search for him for a couple of days, and then do +nothing but talk about it. The police aren't even interested, so far as +we can tell."</p> + +<p>Steve laughed. "You're right. But look at it in another way. Assume +you're the local policeman. Someone rushes in and tells you that Joe +Doakes has been carried off by a flying saucer. You don't believe in +flying saucers, but you know Doakes. You investigate. His boat has been +found, but his body is missing. What do you assume? That he was really +toted off by some mysterious object? Nope. You assume he was hurt or +killed falling out of the boat. You know that sharks come into the bay +and sometimes swim up creeks. You figure that the currents sometimes act +in odd ways, depending on the winds. You figure a dozen natural kinds of +things, none connected with mysterious flying objects. You call a +coroner's jury, and not a man on it is willing to say for the record +that he believes in flying saucers. What happens?"</p> + +<p>"Case closed," Scotty said slowly, "because the body isn't around. No +proof of death, or even of accident. Pending proof of death—meaning the +body—the jury finds that Joe Doakes is missing under mysterious +circumstances and may have met with death or an accident by misadventure +while engaged in his lawful business of crabbing."</p> + +<p>"That's about it," Steve agreed. "It isn't really odd when you look at +it that way. But you can bet the case isn't closed. It's just inactive, +until something turns up. Remember there's no detective squad in a small +town."</p> + +<p>There was a combination gas station and store on the outskirts of +Cambridge. Steve drove in and honked the horn. A young boy looked out of +the store and called, "Howdy, Steve. Want gas?"</p> + +<p>"Not tonight, Jimmy. Ask your grandfather where Calvert's Favor is +located, will you?"</p> + +<p>The boy came out of the store and walked toward the car. He was a +freckle-faced towhead, with a grin wider than the Choptank River. "Heck, +Steve, I don't have to ask gran'pop that. Everybody knows where +Calvert's Favor is located."</p> + +<p>"Not everybody," Steve returned. "I don't. How about letting us in on +the secret, Jimmy?"</p> + +<p>"It's no secret. Everybody around here knows it's located across the +river from you. It's at the head of Swamp Creek."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>Sighting Data</h3> + + +<p>Steve's living room was an excellent place to work. In fact, it was a +shade too comfortable. Rick and Scotty spent a half hour arguing over +who would do what in putting their data down on paper, and both knew +perfectly well that they were just stalling.</p> + +<p>Finally Rick said, "Let's admit it. We're both stuffed with crab, a +little sleepy, and too comfortable in these armchairs."</p> + +<p>Scotty waved a hand languidly. "All right. I concede the point."</p> + +<p>Steve Ames chuckled. "Suppose you move to less comfortable chairs. Those +dining-room chairs should keep you upright. Get to work and I will too."</p> + +<p>The boys hauled themselves to their feet reluctantly. Rick walked to the +door and looked out through the screen. He could see the creek +glistening, and, out beyond the dock where the houseboat and runabout +were tied up, he saw ripples spreading where a fish had jumped. The air +was still, and he could hear cicadas in the trees and shrubs.</p> + +<p>"This is the land of pleasant living," he observed. "I'm surprised +anyone on the Eastern Shore ever gets a lick of work done."</p> + +<p>"You certainly don't," Scotty retorted. "Come on over here and stop +admiring the scenery."</p> + +<p>Steve had produced large sheets of white paper, a ruler, and pencils. +Rick sat down. "I'll act as recorder."</p> + +<p>"Volunteering for the hardest job?" Scotty inquired. "The air must be +affecting you."</p> + +<p>"Nope." Rick shook his head. "I have just enough energy left to be +realistic. I can't read your writing. Suppose I put down the headings. +Location, date of sighting, time of sighting, direction of sighting, +number of persons who saw object. What else?"</p> + +<p>"Description," Scotty suggested. "Maybe that ought to be in two parts. +One for shape and one for color."</p> + +<p>Rick nodded. "Good idea. I'll rule lines as we go." He drew lines for +the columns, printed his headings, and put in the first several +horizontal lines. "Ready," he announced.</p> + +<p>"We'll start with the first one. Location: five miles south of Wye Mills +on Route 50."</p> + +<p>Rick printed: "5M S Wye Mls Rte 50."</p> + +<p>"Date of sighting, July 10. Time of sighting, between five and six in +the evening."</p> + +<p>Rick printed industriously. Scotty read from his notes until over twenty +lines of information had been printed on the chart. Then Steve +interrupted, bringing a tray of tall glasses of iced ginger ale.</p> + +<p>The young agent put the tray down and scanned the columns while the boys +helped themselves. In a moment Steve nodded. "There's a pattern taking +shape, at least in the descriptions. But I can't make much out of the +dates and locations, yet."</p> + +<p>"We'll keep plugging," Rick said. "Maybe we'll need to rearrange the +columns before they make sense."</p> + +<p>"You have a point," Steve agreed. "Use the chart for the source, then we +can fill out sheets on the individual items, or I have some +four-by-five-inch file cards that would be ideal."</p> + +<p>"But we'll be at it all night," Scotty objected.</p> + +<p>"I don't think so. Once the basic data are on paper, it will go fast. +Keep at it. Yell if you want refills on the ginger ale. I need to finish +my own homework."</p> + +<p>The boys returned to logging the data while Steve settled down with a +bulky report. In another hour the notebook had been exhausted, and the +big sheet of paper was nearly full of ruled lines and columns, recording +data.</p> + +<p>"We're done," Rick announced.</p> + +<p>Steve put his report aside and joined them at the table. The boys waited +expectantly while the agent scanned the sheet.</p> + +<p>"You've done a good job of collecting information," Steve said. "Now it +needs breaking down some more. The mixture in the 'color' column bothers +me. I have a hunch those colors may be related to the position of the +sun. Look."</p> + +<p>Rick watched as Steve's forefinger touched a line that showed the color +as "dark." The finger moved across the line to the time of day, eleven +<span class="smcap">A.M</span>. Steve pointed to another line where the color was listed as +"orange." The time of day was seven fifteen <span class="smcap">P.M.</span>, with an additional +note of "twilight."</p> + +<p>"Got it," Scotty agreed. "You think the objects may actually be dark, +but appear in various colors depending on the position of the sun and +the position of the viewer."</p> + +<p>"It makes sense," Rick agreed. "All of the colors listed—red, orange, +silvery, bright—could be reflections of the sun on a smooth object."</p> + +<p>Steve walked to a bookshelf and pulled down a copy of <i>The World +Almanac</i>. "Sunrise and sunset times are listed in here. You can figure +out quickly enough where the sun was in relation to the observer. It +will take another sheet of paper and some more columns."</p> + +<p>"You gave us an extra sheet," Rick replied. "How should I head the +columns?"</p> + +<p>Steve thought for a moment. "Three columns for the position of the sun. +Rising, high, setting. Four columns for the position of the observer in +relation to the flying object—north, south, east, or west. One column +for color, and one for other comments such as 'shiny.' And, of course, +you want a column for the time."</p> + +<p>Rick recorded the data as Scotty read it off, checking <i>The World +Almanac</i> for the sun's approximate positions. Steve was obviously +interested. He started to read his report again, then abandoned it and +came back to the table where the boys were working.</p> + +<p>When the data had been transferred, the three studied it. Rick ran his +eye down the columns quickly, getting an impression, then he went over +the data slowly. "You're right, Steve," he said finally. "It all +tallies, even at a quick look. In every case where the object looked +colored, the observer saw the sun striking it. Where it looked dark, the +object was between the observer and the sun. Or, at least, the observer +wasn't in a position to see the sun reflect off the object."</p> + +<p>Scotty added, "In every case where the object looked red or orange, the +sun was setting or had already set. In every case marked 'bright,' +'silvery,' or 'shiny,' the sun was high and the observer could see the +sun reflecting from the object."</p> + +<p>"It seems pretty clear," Steve agreed. "Now, we have only one really +close-range sighting, and that was Rick's. How sure are you that the +object was black?"</p> + +<p>Rick shrugged. "I know enough not to trust my eyes completely in wind +and rain. But there certainly wasn't any light to reflect off the +object, and I'm pretty sure it was either black or very dark brown."</p> + +<p>"That would fit all the sightings," Steve pointed out. "I'm assuming +that the objects have a smooth surface that reflects light, even though +the material may be dark colored. Didn't you suggest a kite made of dark +plastic? That would fit the bill, except that the objects don't act like +kites."</p> + +<p>"What do they act like?" Scotty demanded.</p> + +<p>Neither Steve nor Rick had an answer.</p> + +<p>"Let's try for another piece of information," Steve suggested. "Put the +dates down on cards. If you have sightings by different people on the +same dates, and at about the same times, put them on the same card. If +there's a big time discrepancy—say one sighting in the morning and +another in the afternoon—put them on different cards."</p> + +<p>Rick looked up. "What are you trying to find?"</p> + +<p>"Periodicity," Steve said promptly. "Is there any regularity in the +sightings? Do they occur every three, four, or five days, or once a week +on Mondays? Which reminds me. You might put down the day of the week, +too. There's a calendar on the wall behind you."</p> + +<p>"You read and I'll copy," Rick told Scotty. "Go ahead." He waited with +pencil poised over a card. In a moment he looked at his pal. "What are +you waiting for?"</p> + +<p>Scotty was poring over the notebook again. His eyebrows knit. "You know, +there's one chunk of data on just a few sightings that we didn't put +down because we didn't have a column for it."</p> + +<p>"What is it?" Steve asked.</p> + +<p>"I know!" Rick exclaimed. "There were a few times when people said they +saw yellow glows in the sky after they saw the objects. Isn't that it?"</p> + +<p>Scotty nodded. "I've been counting. There were five instances. Two +people said the glow wasn't really connected, because it came from +Wallops Island."</p> + +<p>"Why on earth didn't you include it in the chart?" Steve demanded.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't fit," Scotty replied. "In every single case, the glow was to +the southeast."</p> + +<p>"Maybe it does fit," Steve said emphatically. "Boys, never leave out a +bit of data because it doesn't seem to fit. This particular chunk could +very well be the clue."</p> + +<p>"Why?" Rick asked quickly.</p> + +<p>Steve shook his head. "I'm not sure, so I don't want to say. But include +every sighting of the yellow glow on the date cards. I'm going to borrow +that set for a closer look."</p> + +<p>Scotty began reading, while Rick recorded. When the cards were complete, +they ran through them. There was no periodicity. The dates seemed +completely random. Sometimes two sightings had been made at different +times on the same date. There would be two days, three, four, five, or +even six between sightings.</p> + +<p>"Not a trace of pattern," Rick said.</p> + +<p>"Who says stingarees have to fly on schedule?" Steve asked with a grin. +"They're not supposed to be like planes. What's the next step?"</p> + +<p>Scotty produced the map they had used. "One more job to do, and that's +to plot the locations of the observers and draw lines in the directions +of the sightings. That will show us if there's any regularity in the +place where the flying objects appear."</p> + +<p>"Very good," Steve approved.</p> + +<p>Scotty took pencil and ruler and laid the map out flat. "You read +location and direction, Rick, and I'll plot the data."</p> + +<p>"Okay." Rick began with the first. "Five miles south of Wye Mills on +Route 50. Direction, southwest."</p> + +<p>Scotty measured the distance from Wye Mills, using the map scale in +inches, then estimated the compass direction and drew a line. "Next."</p> + +<p>Rick read on. By the time he had reached the tenth sighting, all three +of them were waiting anxiously for each new bit of data to be plotted.</p> + +<p>Finally the job was complete. Steve had hurried off a moment before and +returned with a pair of compasses in his hand. As the boys watched, he +put the sharp point of one compass leg into a spot on the map, adjusted +the radius, and drew a perfect circle. He adjusted the radius again, and +drew a second circle, slightly larger, then a third.</p> + +<p>"Bull's-eye!" Rick said excitedly.</p> + +<p>The direction lines bisected the outer concentric circles like the radii +of an orb spider's web. In the center of the web was the smallest +circle. Within the circle was the focal point of all flying object +observations.</p> + +<p>Rick said the name aloud.</p> + +<p>"Swamp Creek!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>Calvert's Favor</h3> + + +<p>There was a faint hint of coming daylight in the eastern sky when Rick, +Steve, and Scotty walked down the pier to the tied-up boats. The boys +had spent the night—or most of it—aboard the houseboat, until the +alarm pulled them from their sleeping bags at four o'clock. Steve had +breakfast cooking when they arrived at the farmhouse, and after coffee, +bacon, and eggs, they started on their mission.</p> + +<p>"Daybreak is the lowest peak of daily activity," Steve said as they +climbed into the runabout. He took the pilot's seat, while Rick and +Scotty prepared to cast off.</p> + +<p>"You might say that the first glimmer of daylight is man's worst hour," +Steve continued. "It's the time when battles start, when planes take off +for dawn bombing runs. I've read that it's the time when most deaths +occur in hospitals, although I don't know for certain that it's true. +What's more important to us, it's the time of day when guards are most +sleepy and least alert."</p> + +<p>The young agent had been working as he talked, checking the outboard +motor, checking the connections to the gasoline tank, and pumping +pressure into it. Now he pressed the starter and the well-kept motor +caught at once. Rick and Scotty cast off bow and stern lines and settled +themselves in the seat next to Steve.</p> + +<p>"Unless this mysterious Mr. Merlin suffers from sleepless nights, he's +deep in slumber. The sound of a small boat won't disturb him, because +he's used to the noise of motors from crabbers. We'll hope there is no +guard on the place. If there is, we'll be fishing. Better have the rods +ready. One of you can sit in back and troll from there."</p> + +<p>The outboard runabout moved away from the pier and into the creek. Steve +knew his way perfectly, and he opened the throttle to half speed, +steering through the curve at the mouth of the creek, rounding the buoy, +and heading directly toward Swamp Creek.</p> + +<p>It had taken the houseboat over twenty minutes to make the run. Steve +covered the distance in ten. As he throttled down and swung the runabout +into Swamp Creek, Rick's eye picked up a glimmer of light, then the +shape of something white cruising toward them.</p> + +<p>For a moment he stared into the lessening gloom, then said, "It's Orvil +Harris. Anyway, it looks like his boat."</p> + +<p>Steve said nothing for a moment, then he headed directly toward the +crabber. As the two boats closed, Harris paused in his crabbing and +watched the three in the runabout approach.</p> + +<p>Steve matched the crab boat's speed and nudged the runabout alongside. +"Howdy," he called.</p> + +<p>Orvil Harris reached out and caught the runabout's gunwale, then took +the line Rick passed to him. He made it fast around a cleat. "Up early," +he greeted them. "Come to watch me crab?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly," Rick returned. "Mr. Harris, this is Mr. Ames."</p> + +<p>The crabber reached out a muscular hand and Steve stretched to meet it. +"Mighty pretty place you have on Martins Creek," Harris said. "Admired +it many's the time."</p> + +<p>"Thanks," Steve returned. "Be glad to have you drop in any time."</p> + +<p>"I may do that. Thanks."</p> + +<p>"The boys tell me your cousin was the one taken by a flying saucer."</p> + +<p>Harris grinned. "He was taken. I'm not sayin' how until I know."</p> + +<p>"What do you know about Calvert's Favor?"</p> + +<p>Harris rubbed his chin, and made a slight correction in the crab boat's +course. "Present owner is a man named Merlin. No one knows anythin' +about him, and no one asks. Has a big thug with him all the time, and +takes exception to people gettin' nosy. Most folks got snubbed and drew +back, so to speak. Jim Hardin—he's a fisherman hereabouts—took +exception and got beaten up. Hardin's not easy to lick. After that, +folks stopped speakin' to Merlin and company."</p> + +<p>"How big's the company?" Steve asked.</p> + +<p>"Merlin, bodyguard, a little squirt with no chin, and three others. +Cooks and bottle washers, likely. Would it be polite to ask why you're +interested?"</p> + +<p>Steve had been studying Harris since the two boats joined up, Rick knew, +so he wasn't surprised when Steve gave a direct reply.</p> + +<p>"You'll keep this to yourself, please. The boys have been doing a little +research, and it's clear these unidentified flying objects people have +been seeing come from Swamp Creek. That points to the old mansion, +especially since Mr. Merlin is so secretive about himself. We decided to +get up before the people at the mansion were likely to be about, and +look the place over. If it looks promising, we'll try keeping an eye on +it."</p> + +<p>Harris nodded. "I'll keep it to myself, you can be sure. If the mystery +of those flyin' stingarees gets solved, we may find out what happened to +Cousin Link. I'll help if I can."</p> + +<p>"You know these waters pretty well," Steve returned. "Is there any way +of getting to Calvert's Favor, or within watching distance, without +going up this creek?"</p> + +<p>The crabber reached over and turned a switch, cutting his engine. "There +is, for that boat you're in. About thirty yards downstream from the +entrance to this creek, there is a break in the line of swamp grass +along the shore. It's a little lead, a channel maybe six feet wide and +from two to three feet deep. It runs into the swamp. Right at the place +where the water gets too narrow for the boat, a man who didn't care if +he got muddy or wet could go through the brush to an old duck blind +right across from the mansion. A pair of good glasses would give him a +right good view of the whole thing."</p> + +<p>"We couldn't see the mansion from the boat?" Rick asked.</p> + +<p>"The brush is too thick. Tell you what, if you got ground tackle aboard, +drop a hook and come over with me. I'll run you up the creek and you can +take a good look. If anyone's out watchin', they'll only see a crab boat +lookin' for a place to set lines."</p> + +<p>"Scotty," Steve directed, "there's a grapnel on a line up on the bow, +under that small hatch. Toss it in, please."</p> + +<p>Scotty stood up on the seat, stepped to the bow, and found the small, +four-pronged anchor. He dropped it into the water, let out line, and +tied the line fast to the bow cleat. "Okay, Steve."</p> + +<p>The three got aboard the crab boat as Harris started his engine. "Make +yourselves comfortable," the crabber invited. "There's a pair of glasses +on the engine box."</p> + +<p>With the binoculars Rick and Steve had brought, that made three pairs +each. The crabber swung the boat around expertly and headed upstream. +The sky was light now, and far overhead a wisp of cirrus was glowing +pink, a warning of coming sunrise.</p> + +<p>Rick sat on the gunwale and looked ahead. The creek narrowed for a few +hundred yards, then widened again. The left bank, going upstream, was +lined with scrub and swamp grass. The right bank began to change, the +swampy area giving way to good ground that rose slightly from the +water's edge. Soon the right bank was nearly three feet above the water, +and the scrub had given way to an occasional tree, and some grassland +that hadn't been mowed this year.</p> + +<p>Then Calvert's Favor came into view and Rick caught his breath. It was a +stunning plantation house. The tall columns made Rick think of pictures +of the Old South, but as the boat turned slightly and more of the house +came into view, he saw that it had a strictly Maryland character. +Attached to the largest portion of the house, the one with the columns, +was a slightly smaller section, with a still smaller section completing +the picture. It was a "telescope house"—the kind that the Eastern Shore +natives referred to as "big house, little house, and one in the middle."</p> + +<p>A broad sweep of lawn, broken only by flagstone walks and trees, +extended from the creek's edge to the house. The trees were ancient +dogwoods, with a single huge willow for extra shade. There was a small +pier extending into the creek, and from the rotted pilings next to it, +Rick saw that the original pier had been much larger.</p> + +<p>A white barn stood at a short distance from the house. A barn of that +size, Rick thought, meant a pretty substantial farm. He searched for +signs of life and saw none. There was a boat, he noticed, an outboard +skiff perhaps fifteen feet long, pulled up on the bank under an oak tree +at the edge where the lawn met uncut field. A lawn table and chairs +under the big willow looked inviting, and he speculated that Merlin and +friends must spend considerable time there. Some of the chairs were of +the padded variety, covered with plastic wet from the morning dew.</p> + +<p>Scotty pointed to the roof of the mansion. "Must be a ham radio operator +there. Look at that hay rake."</p> + +<p>Both Rick and Steve had the same thoughts as they stared at the tall +antenna, with its cluster of small rods joining a single main bar at +right angles on top of the pole. The antenna might be needed for +fringe-area television—or, on the other hand, it might be a +communications antenna, as Scotty had said.</p> + +<p>"Looks interesting," Steve said.</p> + +<p>The creek flowed only a little distance past the mansion before it +became so narrow that Orvil Harris had to turn for the trip downstream. +As the crab boat came abreast of the mansion again, Rick looked to the +other side of the creek and saw the duck blind. It wasn't exactly +opposite the house, being designed so that gunners in the blind would +shoot diagonally across the creek and downstream, rather than near the +house itself.</p> + +<p>The blind was on stilts, made of board, with a big "picture window" +without glass through which duck hunters could fire freely. It was +designed for entry by boat, and there was a line of poles sticking up +from the water that marked the boat's docking place. In season, the +entire blind including the poles would be covered with a screen of fresh +foliage, so that hunters, blind, and boat would seem like a natural +object to any duck that flew by.</p> + +<p>Rick saw that the entrance, at the point where the boat would nose in, +was downstream from the mansion, at the back corner of the blind. Anyone +approaching from the swamp behind the blind could enter unseen from +Calvert's Favor.</p> + +<p>Not until they were back at the cove did any of them speak.</p> + +<p>"That antenna was odd," Steve said. "Did you ever see anything like it, +Rick?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly," Rick admitted. "It could be for TV, although it's an +unusual design, or it could be some kind of ham rig, as Scotty said."</p> + +<p>"Or it could be something else," Steve concluded.</p> + +<p>"No sign of a flyin'-saucer launcher," Orvil Harris said. He was stoking +his battered brier.</p> + +<p>Rick grinned. "I wouldn't know one if I saw it."</p> + +<p>"Well, that wraps it up," Steve said. "Let's get aboard the runabout and +head home. I've got to make a plane." He shook hands with Orvil Harris. +"Glad to have met you after waving at you for so long."</p> + +<p>"Likewise. Now, you let me in on this if you can. I'm Link's only kin +hereabouts, so I feel responsible, so to speak. Call me up. I'm in the +phone book. I'll keep crabbin' in this creek until further notice, so +you can find me here until midmornin' any day."</p> + +<p>"We'll let you know if anything comes up," Rick agreed.</p> + +<p>Scotty borrowed a boat hook and pulled the runabout closer, then he +stepped to the forward deck while Steve and Rick got into the seat. +Scotty pulled up the grapnel while Steve started the motor. In a moment +they were waving to Harris as the runabout headed for home.</p> + +<p>It was full daylight now, and the rim of the sun was just above the +trees on the horizon.</p> + +<p>"Two items from the morning's work," Scotty summed up. "We know how the +mansion can be watched, and we have an odd kind of antenna. Anything +else?"</p> + +<p>"We have an ally," Rick reminded. "Orvil Harris."</p> + +<p>"We bought him on pure faith," Steve pointed out. "It isn't often I +stake the game on a man's face, but if Orvil Harris isn't a sound +individual, I'll lose my faith in human nature."</p> + +<p>Back at the farmhouse, Steve made fresh coffee and toast. While the boys +relaxed sleepily, he went to a closet and brought out a case and a +leather gadget bag.</p> + +<p>The boys sat up and watched while he opened the case. Rick gasped. It +was a telescope, a marvelously compact reflector type, precision made +and very expensive. Rick had often studied the ads of this particular +model, and he looked at it with some envy. He could hardly keep from +picking it up.</p> + +<p>Steve opened the gadget bag and brought out a Polaroid camera and set of +rings. Then he returned to the closet and brought back a sturdy tripod +with a geared head.</p> + +<p>"Here's the equipment," he said. He took the telescope from its padded +case, and screwed its base to the tripod, then he adjusted the tripod +until it was standing securely.</p> + +<p>"Watch this," he commanded. "You'll have to do it, because you can't +carry the whole thing assembled."</p> + +<p>Using the rings, which were adapters, he fitted the camera to the +eyepiece of the telescope. "That's all there is to it. You focus the +'scope eyepiece by turning this knurled knob. Then you set the camera to +infinity, adjust the iris for the proper light, and put the camera in +place. Any questions?"</p> + +<p>"What aperture?" Rick asked. "Normal exposure?"</p> + +<p>"Make it one f-stop less than you'd use if you were taking the picture +through a regular camera with a long lens. Anything else?"</p> + +<p>Scotty grinned. "It's pointless to ask what you want us to do with this. +We're to get pictures of that antenna—from the duck blind."</p> + +<p>"Plus anything else that looks interesting, including the occupants," +Rick added.</p> + +<p>Steve spread his hands in an expressive gesture. "What more could an +instructor want than students who know the answers before the questions +are asked? I won't even tell you to be careful, because I know you +will."</p> + +<p>"We will," Rick assured him.</p> + +<p>"All right. Listen, boys, we have no idea what we're up against, but we +do have some facts." Steve ticked them off on his fingers. "One, flying +objects originate at the mansion. There's no other place on the creek +that seems likely. Two, the house is inhabited by a man who doesn't like +questions. Three, said man has a bodyguard who gets rough. Four, one man +already is missing, perhaps because he got curious. Enough said?"</p> + +<p>The boys nodded soberly.</p> + +<p>"Then go to it, whenever you feel like it—after you've dropped me at +the airport, that is. Be here by four this afternoon. If I don't call, +meet the five-o'clock flight. If I do, it will mean I've gotten tied +up."</p> + +<p>Steve hesitated. "Just one more thing. Be <i>really</i> careful. All I have +is a hunch, but that hunch tells me we're up against something +dangerous. If Link Harris is dead, as he probably is, there's a fair +chance he was murdered."</p> + +<p>The agent's keen eyes met theirs in turn. "Don't get into a spot you +can't get out of," he concluded.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>The Duck Blind</h3> + + +<p>Orvil Harris had described the opening to the hidden waterway, but when +the boys examined the line of reeds and marsh grass there was no sign of +it. "He said thirty yards downstream," Scotty remembered.</p> + +<p>Rick was at the wheel of the runabout. "Climb out on the bow," he +suggested. "Take the boat hook with you. I'll just keep nosing in until +we find it."</p> + +<p>"Okay." Scotty took the short, aluminum boat hook from its fastenings in +the small cockpit, stood up on the seat, and stepped over the windshield +to the bow. For a moment he surveyed the shoreline from his higher +vantage point. "There's a place that looks promising." He held the boat +hook out like a spear, pointing.</p> + +<p>Rick put the runabout in gear, and moved forward at idling speed. +Looking over the side, he could see the bottom clearly. They were in +only two feet of water, and the outboard was stirring up mud at the +stern.</p> + +<p>"No good," Scotty called. "That one doesn't go anywhere. Try upstream +another six feet."</p> + +<p>Rick turned the boat, watching for the opening Scotty had spotted. He +saw it a moment later. "Looks too small," he called back.</p> + +<p>"I think it opens up. Go ahead slow."</p> + +<p>The runabout nosed up to the almost solid line of tall swamp grass, and +Scotty leaned forward. "I think this is it. Take it easy."</p> + +<p>The heavy grass rubbed on both sides of the boat, but nothing impeded +its progress. The runabout pushed through the brown-green swale until it +was almost enclosed by the grass. Then they were through, into a narrow +channel with high grass on both sides. It was hard for Rick to see ahead +because of the turns, and Scotty served as his eyes, motioning from one +side to the other as the channel shifted.</p> + +<p>Rick wondered if the sound of the outboard motor could be heard at the +mansion, and decided it probably could not. The heavy marsh grass was a +good sound baffle and the motor was relatively quiet. He leaned out, +trying to see ahead. There were many birds in the swamp, and next to the +boat a surprised snapping turtle looked up briefly, then scurried into +the mud for cover.</p> + +<p>The channel was narrowing now. Scotty looked back and drew his hand +across his throat in the old signal to "cut." Rick instantly killed the +motor.</p> + +<p>"I'll pole us," Scotty said softly. He began using the boat hook as a +pole, digging it into the bank and pulling the runabout ahead. Finally +he stopped, and wiped sweat from his face. "This is about as far as we +can go."</p> + +<p>Rick took a swipe at a black fly that bit him on the arm. "Okay. Let's +collect the gear and get started."</p> + +<p>Scotty tied the boat to a projecting root while Rick took the equipment +from its place under the seat and put it within reach on the forward +deck, then jumped ashore. His feet hit apparently solid ground, but kept +right on going down into a foot of ooze.</p> + +<p>He lifted one foot that was a black blob of mud, tried to locate more +solid footing on which to place it, and gave it up as a bad job. He +leaned over and took the telescope case and tripod.</p> + +<p>Scotty picked up the Polaroid camera and their binoculars and came +ashore, sinking into the swamp as Rick had done. He grinned wryly. +"We're up to our knees in this mystery already."</p> + +<p>Rick lifted a foot with five pounds of mud clinging to it. "If we get in +it up to our hips, we'll have a fine time getting out. How far do you +think it is to the duck blind?"</p> + +<p>"Maybe twenty-five yards. Not much more than that, maybe less. Come on."</p> + +<p>Slowly, because of the need to haul each foot out of the mud, the boys +started through the swale. The marsh grass was over their heads, forming +a thick screen. The grass, however, was no handicap to the biting flies. +Within a few seconds each boy was carrying equipment in one hand, using +the other to fight off the swarms. An occasional mosquito added to their +discomfort.</p> + +<p>The muddy ooze thinned, then gave way to higher ground. The marsh grass +was less thick and there was an occasional clump of willow. Rick studied +the terrain ahead, and in a moment caught sight of dark-green foliage +among the brown tips of swamp grass. In a few more feet he made out the +tops of trees, and then the glint of sunlight on the aluminum of the +antenna they had come to photograph.</p> + +<p>Scotty had seen it, too. He stopped and the boys consulted.</p> + +<p>"We're about twenty yards too far upstream," Scotty guessed.</p> + +<p>Rick estimated as best he could. "I think you're right. Let's stay on +high ground and head downstream a little. We must be almost there."</p> + +<p>Scotty turned and Rick followed, waving uselessly at the cloud of +insects. He was grateful for the advice Steve had given them to wear +long trousers and long-sleeved shirts. If they had been wearing shorts, +the insects would have had free access to several square feet of bare +hide.</p> + +<p>Both boys counted steps automatically, and after twenty paces +downstream, Scotty turned toward the mansion once more. They pushed +through the tall grass into thick mud, then into water with a deep muddy +bottom. A few more steps and the grass thinned. Scotty stopped and +motioned Rick back. They moved sideways, then forward again, and emerged +with the duck blind between them and Calvert's Favor.</p> + +<p>Rick thought to himself that it had been pretty good navigation, +considering that most of the journey had been blind, in grass over their +heads. Apparently Scotty thought so, too. He turned and gave Rick a big +grin, then headed for the rear of the duck blind.</p> + +<p>The water deepened, washing off some of the mud. Rick reached down and +splashed a handful on his face. It was warm. He saw a wet black head +emerge from under the duck blind and speed for shore. It was a startled +water rat. Alerted by the small splash of their coming, the rodent +decided to take better cover. Then they were at the corner of the blind +where the entrance was located.</p> + +<p>The floor of the blind was level with their chests. Rick looked in. +There wasn't much space, since the blind had been built to provide only +a place for hunters to sit, wait, and then shoot from kneeling or +sitting positions.</p> + +<p>Both boys put their equipment on the dry wooden floor. Then Rick swung +himself up and pushed the equipment back to make room for Scotty. For a +moment they sat on the floor, resting. Coming through the swamp had been +exhausting work.</p> + +<p>After a few moments' rest, Rick moved to the side of the duck blind and +found a small opening, a square window about six inches on a side, that +had apparently been made to give the hunters a view in that direction. +The opening was near the forward, upstream corner, and it looked out on +Calvert's Favor.</p> + +<p>Merlin the mysterious and his two close companions were sitting under +the willow tree enjoying something liquid from tall glasses. As Rick +watched, a fourth man, evidently a servant, brought a tray on which a +silver pitcher rested. The boy could see the trickles of water cascading +down the outside, and knew they were caused by moisture condensing on +the cold metal of the pitcher. He moistened his lips. A fine pair of +dunderheads, he and Scotty were. They had come without even a canteen of +water.</p> + +<p>"Easy shot," he whispered to Scotty. "Let's set up and take the +pictures, then get out of here. I'm getting thirsty just watching them."</p> + +<p>Scotty adjusted the tripod, while Rick took the telescope out of its +case with reverent hands. It was a beautiful and delicate piece of +equipment, Steve's personal property, and he appreciated the trust the +agent had placed in them by allowing its use. He fitted the instrument +to the mounting screw on the tripod, then aimed it through the six-inch +window. When he squinted through the eyepiece, he saw only willow +branches, but, by keeping his eye in place and cranking the geared +tripod head, he quickly aligned the telescope with the trio under the +willow.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="illus2" id="illus2"></a> +<img src="images/illus2.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3><i>Scotty fitted the camera to the telescope</i></h3> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The telescope had a fixed focus, and was designed for looking at stars. +Consequently, the field of vision was extremely narrow at the short +distance across the water, and Rick could only manage to get Merlin and +his small, insignificant-looking companion into the frame. What's more, +they were upside down, as is common in reflecting telescopes. The boy +knew there was an erecting prism in the case, a device that would put +the image upright, but it couldn't be used with the camera. Anyway, it +wouldn't matter, since the print could be turned over.</p> + +<p>He studied the faces in the upside-down position. The telescope gave him +an even better close-up than at the restaurant. Again he groped for the +identity of the white-haired man, but it eluded him.</p> + +<p>Scotty tapped him on the shoulder and motioned that the camera was +ready. Rick moved aside and his pal quickly fitted the camera to the +telescope and tightened the mounting rings. Rick nodded to indicate that +the telescope was on target, and Scotty tripped the camera.</p> + +<p>The advantage of the Polaroid camera is that the picture can be seen +within seconds. Scotty quickly went through the simple routine, and +within a quarter of a minute the boys were looking at the photo. It was +an excellent close-up, but a trifle dark. Scotty opened the iris on the +camera another stop and Rick rechecked the alignment. Scotty snapped the +picture and processed it. This time it was perfect, only slightly hazy +because of the rising heat waves across the hundred yards of distance.</p> + +<p>Rick readjusted the telescope for a full view of the third man. His +picture was added to the others. Scotty wiped both with fixative and put +them on the floor to dry.</p> + +<p>The antenna was next. Rick focused on it without difficulty, but the +field of view was so narrow that he couldn't see all of it. They would +have to photograph it in two sections, then fit the prints together.</p> + +<p>Five minutes after their arrival at the duck blind, they were back in +the swamp, the pictures protected in a plastic bread wrapper Rick had +brought. They cut directly across the swamp and emerged, hot, sticky, +and dirty, only a few yards from the boat. They stowed the equipment +wordlessly, then poled backwards into the wider channel. It was too +narrow to turn, so Rick started the motor and backed out with great +caution.</p> + +<p>Once in the clear, they headed at top speed for Steve's, tied up at the +pier, and plunged into the water without even bothering to remove their +clothes. Their only precaution was to empty their pockets.</p> + +<p>Rick luxuriated in the coolness of clean water, then stripped to his +undershorts and threw his sodden clothes onto the pier. Only when he was +sure he had washed off the last of the clinging mud did he pull himself +up to the houseboat cockpit, Scotty following.</p> + +<p>They toweled and put on clean clothes, then carried the equipment back +to the farmhouse. Two bottles of Coke apiece from the refrigerator had +them feeling normal again. Over the last one, they studied the photos.</p> + +<p>"I don't think we've ever known Merlin," Rick said thoughtfully. "We've +seen him, but we don't know him."</p> + +<p>Scotty scratched a mosquito bite. "Think he might be some kind of public +figure?"</p> + +<p>Rick looked up sharply. "I think you hit it! If that's true, we should +be able to get him identified easily."</p> + +<p>"Steve could do it through JANIG," Scotty suggested.</p> + +<p>"It would take too long. He won't be home until tonight, and the picture +wouldn't reach JANIG until tomorrow. Then it would take a day to check +it out."</p> + +<p>"Are we in a hurry?" Scotty asked.</p> + +<p>Rick chuckled. "I am. But don't ask me why. Look, I'll bet Duke or Jerry +could identify it by going through the newspaper morgue." Their +newspaper friends were owner-editor and reporter for the Whiteside paper +back home.</p> + +<p>"They're on vacation," Scotty reminded him. Once each year, the paper +was turned over to a friend of Duke's, a former newspaperman turned +professor of journalism, who used the occasion to give some of his +students practical experience.</p> + +<p>That was true, Rick remembered. Neither Duke nor Jerry would be +available. Who else did they know who could help? Suddenly he snapped +his fingers. "I've got it! Ken Holt would help, if we could get the +picture to him."</p> + +<p>Ken Holt, the young newsman whose adventures were favorite reading for +Rick and Scotty, had once asked Spindrift for help, and Rick had given +him a set of pocket-size radio transceivers of the kind known as "The +Megabuck Network."</p> + +<p>"Sandy Allen is a photographer," Scotty pointed out. "He might know +these people."</p> + +<p>Rick took a chair next to the telephone and dialed the operator. "A +person-to-person call," he stated, "to Mr. Ken Holt, at the <i>Brentwood +Advance</i>, Brentwood, New Jersey." He put his hand over the mouthpiece. +"Let's hope he and Sandy aren't off on an assignment somewhere."</p> + +<p>Luck was on their side. Ken Holt was in, and he was delighted to be of +help. "Put the picture in the mail," the young reporter suggested. "If +you make it airmail, special delivery, we'll have it first thing in the +morning. With luck, we might even get it tonight. We'll phone you as +soon as we have an identification. Incidentally, the Megabuck units +worked like a charm, as I told you when I wrote. Thanks a lot."</p> + +<p>"Glad they were helpful," Rick replied. "We'll hurry to town and get the +picture in the mail right away."</p> + +<p>He hung up and nodded at Scotty. "We'll get the picture ready, and take +it to town when we go to pick Steve up. If we're a little early, the +letter probably will go out on the early evening plane to Washington."</p> + +<p>Scotty nodded. "What time is it?"</p> + +<p>Rick glanced at his watch. "Nearly three. We'll be ready to take off as +soon as Steve calls, or doesn't."</p> + +<p>"If he calls, that means he won't be back," Scotty reminded.</p> + +<p>"No matter. We'll go to town anyway, and have an early dinner."</p> + +<p>Rick had envelopes and letter paper on the houseboat. He wrote a brief +note to Ken, addressed the envelope, and printed <span class="smcap">Airmail Special +Delivery</span> on both sides, then enclosed the best picture of Merlin and +sealed it. Scotty spent the time on a small repair job, taping up the +neoprene gasoline hoses that carried fuel to the houseboat motors. By +the time he was finished, it was nearly four. The boys went into the +house to wait.</p> + +<p>Steve called on the dot of four. "Rick? ... Steve. I'm sorry, fellow. I +have a little more to do on this case, and I'll have to stay over. +Everything going all right?"</p> + +<p>Rick briefed him quickly on the day's events and Steve replied, "It +takes about half an hour for a letter to make the early evening plane. +Allow enough time."</p> + +<p>"We will," Rick assured him. "Anything new on the sighting data?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet. I sent the cards to the computing center, but they won't have +time to run the data through until tomorrow or the next day. Make +yourselves at home, and don't spend all your time on flying stingarees. +Get in some fishing and swimming."</p> + +<p>Rick assured him that they were enjoying the vacation and would try to +get in some fishing. He hung up and turned to Scotty.</p> + +<p>"He'll be in tomorrow on the same plane. He wants us to get in some +fishing."</p> + +<p>Scotty chuckled. "I thought he knew you better than that. Give you a +mystery to chew on and there's no room for anything else in that thick +Brantish skull."</p> + +<p>"We'll solve this one," Rick said confidently. "Then we'll fish."</p> + +<p>Scotty just grinned.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>Ken Holt Comes Through</h3> + + +<p>Somewhere in the oak trees across the creek a cardinal sang his lovely +evening song. An osprey, etched in black against the dark blue of the +sky, whirled in lazy circles watching the water below. A muskrat +appeared briefly, his sleek head making a V of ripples in the calm +water.</p> + +<p>Rick and Scotty, sprawled comfortably in beach chairs on the lawn in +front of Steve's house, sipped the last of their iced tea, and watched +the movements and listened to the sounds in companionable silence. Both +boys, admitting that, for the immediate present, they were slightly +overdosed with rich food, had agreed to settle for a sandwich and iced +tea. A brief stop at a store en route back from the post office had +provided the necessities.</p> + +<p>Rick was physically relaxed, but mentally active. It was characteristic +of him that he never let go of a puzzle until he had found a solution, +or had tried all possibilities and been forced to admit defeat. He was a +long way from defeat at the moment. The case of the flying stingaree was +just getting interesting.</p> + +<p>"What are the flying stingarees?" he asked quietly.</p> + +<p>Scotty shifted position in his chair and looked at Rick quizzically. +"You don't expect an answer. But I can tell you a few things they are +not."</p> + +<p>"Tell away," Rick urged.</p> + +<p>"They are not flying saucers, aircraft, kites, sting rays, birds, fish, +or good red herrings. Beyond that, deponent sayeth not, as the legal +boys say."</p> + +<p>"Uh-huh. And why are they not flying saucers?"</p> + +<p>"For the same reason they're not aircraft. If you recall all the talks +with people who've seen them, they don't maneuver, and they don't travel +very fast. They appear—or they're noticed, let's say—and they just get +smaller and smaller until they vanish. They move, but not much."</p> + +<p>Rick nodded. "The circle we drew around all the sightings doesn't cover +a very large territory. All the sightings have been within that circle. +People had to look toward Swamp Creek to see the objects. Yet, they did +something interesting. They grew smaller. What makes things seem to grow +smaller?"</p> + +<p>"Apparent size decreases with distance," Scotty replied promptly.</p> + +<p>"Sure. And how do you get distance, when the sightings are all within a +circle only a few miles in diameter?"</p> + +<p>"Only one way. With altitude. The things had to be going up."</p> + +<p>Rick agreed. "That's how I figure it, too. It also explains why the +circle of sightings is so small. Above a certain altitude, the objects +are no longer visible. Or they're not so visible that they attract +attention. I suppose we could work out some calculations. How large an +object can be seen readily at what distance? Then we could apply a +little trigonometry and figure their size."</p> + +<p>"We could," Scotty agreed, "but do we need to? Let's assume the object +you saw was typical. How big was it?"</p> + +<p>Rick thought it over. He had had only a quick glimpse, and the +background had been the gray of the storm. His vision had been obscured +because of the rain. "Maximum of ten feet across and maybe eight tall. +It was probably less."</p> + +<p>"Okay. So the reason sightings are confined to this area is because the +objects are fairly small. When people see them, they're relatively +close, and fairly low. Even the small planes that fly from the airfield +are much bigger than the flying stingarees, but when the planes go over +at about five thousand feet, they seem tiny. At that altitude the flying +stingarees must be at the limit of really good visibility."</p> + +<p>"I read you loud and clear. So the objects are sent from Calvert's +Favor, and they climb. They don't climb straight up, though. The wind +carries them. The reason I think so is that the one I saw must have been +driven by the wind, right down the creek toward me. It didn't climb +until it got away from the funneling effect of the creek and into the +river, then it went up pretty fast. At least it seemed to have risen +fast when I looked over the top of the boat at it."</p> + +<p>Scotty crunched an ice cube. "We're getting somewhere. There's only one +kind of unpowered, vertical rising thing I know of. Are you with me?"</p> + +<p>Rick finished his drink. "Balloon," he said crisply.</p> + +<p>"On the beam," Scotty approved. "The only thing that doesn't fit is the +shape."</p> + +<p>Rick asked, "What's a balloon? It's just a gas-tight container. We're +used to thinking of balloons as spheres, because it's the most efficient +shape for internal pressure. But a balloon can be any shape. Another +thing—balloons for high altitudes aren't fully inflated on the ground. +Maybe the flying stingarees have a different shape when they get higher +and in less dense atmosphere where the gas distends them."</p> + +<p>"An odd shape could be used as camouflage, too, if you didn't want +people to recognize the balloon. But why would a strange assortment of +characters like Merlin and company send up balloons?" Scotty wondered.</p> + +<p>Rick smiled. "I've been wondering that myself. Would they send up a +balloon that didn't carry something?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Was the one you saw carrying anything?"</p> + +<p>Rick sat upright. "Maybe it was! You know, I haven't even thought of it +since then, but I think there was a splash when it went by. Something +sort of clanged off the rail over me, even if it didn't dent the rail. +Do you suppose the thing dropped its payload right next to us?"</p> + +<p>"You'll have to decide that," Scotty said. "If you heard something +bounce off the rail, then a splash, I'd say there might be a pretty good +chance that's what happened. I couldn't see any marks on the rail when +we looked." They had checked the rail during the first day at Steve's.</p> + +<p>Rick closed his eyes and made himself remember what it had been like +when he went down the catwalk to the bow. His mind drew a picture, and +he saw himself bent forward into the wind. In his memory he felt the +slashing rain, the slipperiness of the wet anchor line. He could +visualize the water whipped into dimpled wavelets by wind and rain. He +saw the flying stingaree loom, and saw himself dropping flat. There had +been a clang as something hard hit the rail! There <i>had</i> been a splash!</p> + +<p>He went over it again, searching his memory for details he had forgotten +or which had only registered vaguely at the time. He studied the shape +and texture of the object he had seen so briefly. He saw its red eyes +open and glare at him, saw the extended claws reaching....</p> + +<p>He came out of his chair with a yell, arms extended to defend himself.</p> + +<p>Scotty stood next to him in the darkness. "Hey, take it easy, Rick! I +didn't think I'd startle you so when I shook you."</p> + +<p>Rick stared. "Did I fall asleep? I must have. I was trying to remember, +and suddenly I was dreaming about red eyes and claws—"</p> + +<p>Scotty laughed softly. "If you've got to have nightmares, at least do it +in comfort. Let's go to the boat and go to bed."</p> + +<p>Rick dreamed no more of the flying stingarees. In the morning he +couldn't have said what his dreams had been about, except that they had +been pleasant.</p> + +<p>In the bright glare of morning, the whole thing seemed dreamlike. It was +preposterous to imagine that flying objects, probably balloons shaped +like stingarees, were launched from a famous mansion that dated back to +the days of the early Maryland colony. But the sighting data couldn't be +ignored. Dreamlike or not, something strange was going on at Calvert's +Favor.</p> + +<p>The boys breakfasted in the farmhouse, reducing Steve's supply of eggs +substantially and wiping out the bacon reserve. "We'll have to shop +sometime today," Rick observed. "Steve has plenty of food here, but we +don't want to use it when there's a store so close."</p> + +<p>"Sure," Scotty agreed. "But when? It may have to wait until we go after +Steve. We can't very well leave the house, or at least both of us can't. +Ken Holt might call."</p> + +<p>Rick nodded and poured himself a cup of coffee. He had thought of that. +They had to give Ken time to get the picture and check it out. By the +latest, they should hear before noon—unless the job turned out to be +very difficult. That would leave four hours before they would have to +leave the house to pick up Steve. Four hours was time enough for the +investigation Rick had in mind.</p> + +<p>After breakfast they settled down with the data sheets and notebook to +review them once more. But only one additional fact emerged. Two people +thought, but weren't absolutely sure, that they had seen a spurt of fire +from the flying stingarees. Rick wondered if they had seen a sudden +flare of sunlight from some highly reflective part of the object.</p> + +<p>It was two minutes before nine when the phone rang. Both boys jumped, +but Rick got there first. "Hello?"</p> + +<p>"Rick? ... This is Ken. Why don't you give us something hard to do? The +envelope arrived three minutes ago, and I was just taking the picture +out when Sandy walked in. He took one look and asked what I was doing +with a snapshot of Lefty Camillion. The hair is white and the mustache +is gone, but it's Lefty."</p> + +<p>Rick gasped. "My sainted aunt! Of course! I should have known it +myself."</p> + +<p>"There's more. Sandy recognized Lefty's small friend too. This is an odd +one, Rick. The man is Dr. Elbert K. Drews. He was fired six months ago +by Space Electronics Industries. It was a big story for us, because the +plant is located in the next town. The reason he was fired came out +during the monopoly investigations. Turned out he had been selling the +firm's industrial secrets to its competitors. It was a shock, because he +had such a big reputation as an electronics wizard. He got some kind of +national prize a year ago for developing a new high-speed system for +something. Let's see—here's my note. It says, 'Dr. Drews was the +originator of a new and unusual system for the rapid telemetry of data +from space. The system is considered remarkable for its compactness and +speed of operation. The ground installation is scarcely larger than a +console-model television set.' Hope that means something to you, Rick."</p> + +<p>"Thanks a million, Ken. It seems to fit, but I'm not sure how."</p> + +<p>"Let us know if you find out. And if we can do anything else, you know +the phone number."</p> + +<p>"We'll call if anything comes up. Thanks again, Ken."</p> + +<p>Rick hung up and stared at the phone thoughtfully, trying to fit this +new information into the scheme of things. Scotty had been sitting on +the edge of his chair since the conversation started. He said, with some +exasperation, "Well? Out with it!"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Merlin is Lefty Camillion. His pal is an electronics wizard who was +fired by Space Electronics Industries for selling industrial secrets to +the firm's competitors." Rick rapidly sketched in the rest of the +conversation.</p> + +<p>Scotty sank back into his chair. "His hair was black, and now it's +white. He must have been keeping it dyed, and decided to go natural. And +he shaved off that mustache. Probably that was dyed black, too."</p> + +<p>"You're right." Rick shook his head in dismay. Lefty Camillion, whose +first name was Thomas, was a notorious crime syndicate leader who had +come into prominence about two years ago during Senate investigations of +racketeering. In three days Camillion had become a television +personality, of sorts, when it became clear that he apparently was +responsible for a number of murders and a thousand lesser crimes, +although he himself had not done the actual killings. There was +insufficient evidence to jail him, but enough to deport him. He dropped +out of sight while his lawyers were fighting the deportation +proceedings. Now he had shown up again, on the Eastern Shore.</p> + +<p>"A crime syndicate chief, a crooked scientist, flying stingarees, an old +mansion, a peculiar antenna, and a missing crabber. What does it add up +to?" Rick demanded.</p> + +<p>Scotty shrugged. He didn't answer. There was no answer—yet.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>On the Bottom</h3> + + +<p>There were three wooden cases stored in the full-length closet in the +houseboat cabin. Rick and Scotty took the two bulkiest to the cockpit +and opened them to disclose full skin-diving equipment. The boys had +made the cases themselves, to be carried like suitcases. Each held a +single air tank, regulator, mask, fins, snorkel, underwater watch, depth +gauge, weight belt, equipment belt, and knife. The third case contained +spears and spear guns, but they wouldn't need those in searching for the +object that had splashed near the houseboat.</p> + +<p>While Rick checked the equipment, made sure there was sufficient air in +the tanks, and put on the regulators, Scotty searched for a heavy stake +and something with which to drive it. He found a sledge hammer in +Steve's workshop. At the edge of the woods was a pile of saplings that +had been cut to make a fence. He chose a sapling that would serve as a +stake and took it back to the boat.</p> + +<p>One of the spare lines that the houseboat carried was quarter-inch +nylon. Scotty fastened one end of the small rope to the sapling, about +halfway up, and secured it with a timber hitch. Then he wound the rope +on the sapling as smoothly as possible.</p> + +<p>Rick finished checking the equipment and announced that he was ready.</p> + +<p>"Same here," Scotty replied. "Let's get into swim trunks."</p> + +<p>As the two changed, Rick asked, "Suppose we find something, but can't +get it up without help? How do we mark the place?"</p> + +<p>Scotty paused. Normally they would simply attach a line to a float and +secure the float to the object. But a float would attract attention. +"Take bearings?"</p> + +<p>Rick shook his head. "The boat will be swinging at anchor. It might be +hard to get good bearings. Would a piece of fish line work? We could tie +it to the object, carry it to the shore, and secure it to something +underwater. The line would sink. Later, we could just drag until we +caught the line."</p> + +<p>"It would work," Scotty agreed. "There's a new spool of heavy line on +the shelf in the closet. Fifty yards. That should do."</p> + +<p>"Especially since the most we would need is fifty feet," Rick agreed. +"I'll stick it in a belt pocket, just in case."</p> + +<p>Back on deck, Rick started the houseboat's outboard motors and listened +critically. They were operating smoothly. Scotty walked up the pier and +untied the bowline. At Rick's signal, he stepped aboard on the foredeck, +bringing the line with him. Rick cast off the stern line, pushed the +houseboat away from the pier, then put the motors in gear.</p> + +<p>The trip to Swamp Creek was a familiar one now. Rick cut corners, +knowing he had enough water under the keel, heading directly for the +creek entrance. Scotty came back to the cockpit and joined him.</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose Orvil Harris will be around?"</p> + +<p>Rick shrugged. "It's pretty late for a crabber. He's probably gone by +now."</p> + +<p>"I wonder if he'll ever see any flying stingarees come out of the +creek."</p> + +<p>Rick shook his head. "Most of the sightings are in the late morning or +late afternoon. Only a couple were around dawn."</p> + +<p>While the houseboat moved across the Little Choptank, Scotty checked the +tide tables. He reported that the tide was coming in. It was about one +hour from high tide. Rick had been studying the chart. "No problem," he +said. "Mean low water averages four feet in the cove, with seven feet in +the middle. Think your stake will be long enough?"</p> + +<p>Scotty had placed the sapling with its winding of rope on the cabin top. +He estimated its length again. "Depends on how deep the mud is. If it's +more than three feet, the top of the stake will be under water."</p> + +<p>"Three feet is a lot of mud," Rick said. "It's likely a lot less than +that."</p> + +<p>He turned into the creek mouth, throttling back. It would be hard to +anchor precisely where the houseboat had been anchored that first night, +but he was sure they could find the spot within twenty feet. Scotty went +up on the bow and got the anchor ready.</p> + +<p>"Use about thirty feet of line," Rick called. He took the houseboat to +the exact center of the cove, as closely as he could estimate, then put +the motors in reverse to kill the speed. When it fell to zero, he yelled +to Scotty. Scotty lowered the anchor and made it fast, then hurried back +to join Rick, who backed off until he felt the anchor dig in.</p> + +<p>It was silent in the cove with the motors off. "I'll start," Rick +offered, and at Scotty's nod he picked up his Scuba and slipped into the +harness. His weight belt was next, then his fins. Finally he slipped the +mask strap over his head, and put the mouthpiece in place. He took a +couple of breaths to make sure he was getting air, then walked to the +edge of the cockpit and fell backward into the water, letting his tank +take the shock of landing. He slipped the mask off, took the mouthpiece +out, and spat into the mask to prevent fogging, then he rinsed it, put +it on, and replaced the mouthpiece.</p> + +<p>Scotty had taken the sapling from the cabin top. He handed it to Rick, +who dove with it, thrusting the sharpened end into the mud far enough so +that the sapling stayed in place.</p> + +<p>Rick surfaced again and swam to the boat, which had drifted a few feet. +Catching the leg of one motor, he pulled the boat back to where the +sapling projected above the surface. He held the boat in position while +Scotty took the sledge and drove the sapling down until its top was only +a few inches above the water. Rick tested the pole. It was firm.</p> + +<p>He removed the mouthpiece, treading water. "Looks okay. I'm going to +start."</p> + +<p>"Good luck," Scotty called.</p> + +<p>Rick submerged and swam down, using the pole as a guide. The rope, +attached to the pole, was perhaps two feet above the bottom. He freed +the end of the rope, unwound a few feet, slipped the end through his +belt, and secured it with a slip knot. Then, hands extended, he began +the slow work of covering the cove bottom inch by inch, searching for +the thing that had splashed.</p> + +<p>The boy swam in an ever-widening circle, the rope unwinding from the +sapling as he moved. The unwinding of the line, which he kept taut, +ensured that he would cover new ground each time he rounded the pole, +but without missing any. He couldn't see, because his hands stirred up +mud as he traveled. Only his sense of touch told him what was on the +bottom. He wasn't afraid of grabbing a crab or an eel. All underwater +creatures with any mobility at all get out of the way as fast as +possible. He knew the compression wave caused by his movement would warn +all living creatures.</p> + +<p>His groping hands identified various pieces of wood, all natural, and +assorted other objects including an old tire. There were cans, some of +them food tins that had been opened, and some beverage cans, +recognizable because of their triangular openings. Once he found a +section of fishing pole.</p> + +<p>It was a long, tedious job. The world closed in on Rick and there was +only the murk outside his mask and the rhythmic sound of his own +breathing. Only his hands, constantly probing the mud, were in touch +with reality. He lost all sense of time. Once, to see how much ground he +had covered, he pulled himself to the pole by the line, estimating his +distance. He was about fifteen feet from his starting point. He returned +to the full extent of the line and started the round again, after +looking at his watch. He had to hold it close to see the dial through +the murk. He had been down only twenty minutes, although the time seemed +much longer.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later his hand swept over something smooth. Instantly he +turned in toward the pole, and swam back around the circle for perhaps +ten feet. Then, covering the ground again by crawling along the bottom, +he felt for the object. His fingers touched it. His first impression was +of something cylindrical, but he made no attempt to pick it up. He +needed to explore it thoroughly, first. His breathing was faster, and he +knew his pulse had accelerated at the moment of discovery. If this +continued, he would use air too fast. He willed himself to slow his +breathing, and for a few seconds he stopped altogether.</p> + +<p>In that instant, Rick heard a slap on the water, then another. He +waited, holding his breath. There was a pause, then more gentle slaps. +He counted them.</p> + +<p>One, two, three, four—the signal for danger!</p> + +<p>He and Scotty had long ago agreed that four sounds underwater would be +the danger signal. He reacted instantly. The fishing line was in a +pocket on his equipment belt. He took it out and pulled line from the +spool. Then, probing deeply with one hand, he pushed the line under the +smooth object, reached across and down with the other hand. When his +hands met, he passed the line from one to the other and pulled the line +through. Now it was around the object. He tied the line quickly, then +rolled over on his back and looked upward at the surface. He could gauge +the position of the sun, even though he could see no details. Using the +rays filtering through the murk as a guide, he oriented himself.</p> + +<p>"Which bank?" He thought quickly. Danger could only come from the +mansion, and that was on the south bank. He turned and swam north, going +slowly, paying out line from the spool. Now that he was traveling in a +straight line, he covered the bottom quickly, and in less than a minute +he was in shallow water. He stopped, afraid that his tank would show +above the surface.</p> + +<p>It was clearer in the shallows. He made out the line of a branch, or +root of some kind that thrust its way through the surface. It would +serve. Quickly he passed the spool around it and made a knot, then he +pushed the spool itself into the mud and turned.</p> + +<p>Now to find the boat again. Cruising slowly, he headed in the general +direction, rising slightly as he swam. Finally, he found the boat by its +shadow and swam under it to the stern. Again orienting himself by the +sun, he made sure that the boat would be between him and the south bank. +He surfaced and pulled off his mask.</p> + +<p>Scotty was swabbing the deck of the cockpit as casually as though +trouble was the last thing on his mind. Rick wondered briefly if he had +imagined the danger signal, or had mistaken some other sound for a +signal. Then Scotty hailed him.</p> + +<p>"Where are all the clams?"</p> + +<p>Rick's mind raced. Obviously someone was listening. Was the someone on +the boat, or ashore?</p> + +<p>"I only found one," he called back. "I don't believe there are enough in +this cove to bother about, no matter what those fishermen said."</p> + +<p>"Did you dig deep enough?" Scotty asked.</p> + +<p>"As deep as I could without a shovel. The mud is two feet thick down +there."</p> + +<p>"Well, you might as well come aboard. I guess if we're going to have +clam chowder, we'll have to buy clams from a commercial boat."</p> + +<p>Scotty wouldn't invite him aboard if there was any danger, Rick knew. He +accepted the hand Scotty held down and got aboard.</p> + +<p>He surveyed the situation quickly. There was no sign of any danger.</p> + +<p>"Pretty murky down there?" Scotty asked.</p> + +<p>"Like swimming in ink."</p> + +<p>"We'll try again out in deep water. It should be clear near the river +mouth."</p> + +<p>"Suits me," Rick said. "I never did think we'd find clams in this cove. +The mano boats dredge in deeper water than this."</p> + +<p>"Maybe the fishermen didn't want us stirring things up where they clam. +Come on in and I'll fix you some coffee. I made it while you were down +below."</p> + +<p>"Okay."</p> + +<p>Once inside the cabin, Scotty said softly, "Two men. On the shore. One +is the bodyguard. I've never seen the other one before. Both of them +have rifles."</p> + +<p>Rick considered. "They couldn't possibly know the thing—whatever it +is—dropped in the water here. Or could they?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Anyway, they're suspicious. Did you find anything?"</p> + +<p>"Just as you signaled. How did you signal, by the way?"</p> + +<p>"With the mop pail. Four taps with the bottom on the water surface. Then +I filled the pail and began swabbing down."</p> + +<p>Rick nodded. "I don't know what I found. A cylinder, maybe two inches in +diameter, maybe less. Smooth. I got the fish line around it and carried +the line to the shore. We'll have to come back later."</p> + +<p>"We certainly will." Scotty's eyes sparkled. "But for now, let's up +anchor and get out of here."</p> + +<p>"How about the stake with the rope on it?"</p> + +<p>"The tide's still coming in. It will be completely under the water at +high tide. We'll have to avoid it, and warn Harris if we don't get back +tonight."</p> + +<p>An idea was beginning to form in Rick's mind. "Okay," he said. "Let's +get going."</p> + +<p>Within minutes the houseboat was on its way out of the cove, the two +boys acting normally, as though no one was observing their departure. +Rick saw no one on shore, and not until they were sunward from the cove +entrance did he see the sparkle of sunlight on binocular lenses. Scotty +had been right, as usual.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>Night Recovery</h3> + + +<p>On the way back from the airport, Steve Ames listened intently to the +report of the day's activities, but delayed comment until supplies had +been purchased, and a dozen eggs turned into an omelet that a French +chef might have praised.</p> + +<p>Rick was eager to discuss the whole affair with Steve, but the young +agent was adroit at fending off questions without being rude, and +finally the boy gave up.</p> + +<p>Over after-dinner coffee, Steve smiled at both of them. "End of today's +lesson in patience, which is one virtue neither of you has developed +sufficiently. Okay, where are those two pictures?"</p> + +<p>Scotty whipped them from the breast pocket of his shirt and handed them +over without comment. Steve studied them for long minutes, then went to +a table and took a magnifying glass from the table drawer. He placed the +pictures directly under a lamp and studied them with the aid of the +magnifier.</p> + +<p>"It <i>is</i> Thomas Camillion," he said finally. "Your friend Sandy Allen +has a sharp eye. I wouldn't have known him, either."</p> + +<p>That surprised Rick. Steve had never met the owner of Calvert's Favor, +but because of Camillion's notorious reputation, Rick had been certain +that Steve would recognize him on sight.</p> + +<p>Steve saw the expression on Rick's face. He grinned. "You disappointed? +First of all, my knowledge of Camillion is not greater than yours. I've +never seen him in person, or had any reason to study him. Crime isn't +JANIG's business. Second, one expects to see a duck near water, or a +squirrel near a tree. Criminals are generally found near centers of +crime. They're not common in historic mansions, far from large +population centers, so one doesn't expect to find them there. My reasons +for not recognizing Camillion, without Allen's identification, are +exactly the same as yours."</p> + +<p>"It's just that we expect you to know everything," Scotty said +half-seriously.</p> + +<p>"Then I'm glad you're learning better. Joking aside, it's interesting +that Camillion should be here. It's even more interesting that his +sidekick is a crooked electronics engineer or scientist. When you add +flying stingarees to that combination, it totals up to something novel +in criminal ideas. But what?"</p> + +<p>"We thought you might have an idea," Rick prodded.</p> + +<p>"Yes and no," Steve said ambiguously. "What ideas do you have?"</p> + +<p>Rick stared at him accusingly. "Are you holding out on us? Do you know +something we don't?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet," Steve said, and grinned at their expressions. "I mean that +literally. I think I may possibly know something, but the evidence isn't +in yet. It's that computer run I mentioned. We should have the results +tomorrow."</p> + +<p>"All right," Rick said. He knew better than to push Steve for more +information. The agent went in for speculation only when it served a +purpose. With only a hint of evidence, he avoided guessing until the +evidence had been checked out. "We figured out that the flying +stingarees probably are balloons," Rick reported, recapitulating their +conclusions of the previous evening.</p> + +<p>Steve nodded approvingly. "Very good reasoning. Now connect up an +electronics crook, Camillion, and that peculiar antenna."</p> + +<p>"The balloons carry radio equipment," Scotty said promptly. "The antenna +picks up their signals."</p> + +<p>Steve nodded again. "That's reasonable. Now, why do the balloons carry +radio equipment? And why are they launched?"</p> + +<p>"We're like a dog chasing his tail," Rick said with a grin. "We're not +getting anywhere, but we're covering plenty of ground."</p> + +<p>"Maybe we are getting somewhere," Steve corrected. "You found something +today that may be the balloon payload. You also found out that people +from the mansion were interested in your activities, but didn't want to +be seen. It's obvious that the object you found must be recovered. +You've got a plan. I'm sure of it."</p> + +<p>"We do," Rick agreed.</p> + +<p>Scotty added, "First of all, we have to warn Orvil Harris. If he goes +crabbing in the middle of the night, he might foul a prop on the stake +we left there."</p> + +<p>"The people in the mansion can't be suspicious of Orvil," Rick went on. +"He goes crabbing there every day. They must be used to him by now. +Suppose we call him, to warn him about the stake, and to see if he'll +help out."</p> + +<p>"He'll be glad to help," Scotty said.</p> + +<p>"Help how?" Steve asked. "By providing cover?"</p> + +<p>Rick nodded. "Exactly. Scotty and I will suit up, so our skins won't +show at night, and have our Scuba equipment on. Harris could come by and +take the runabout in tow with us in it. We would drop off near the creek +entrance and push the runabout into the channel where it would be +hidden. Then we would swim into the cove and recover the object. With +two of us, it would be a cinch to find the fish line."</p> + +<p>"If the thing is too heavy to swim with," Scotty went on, "we'll hand it +into Orvil's boat. Of course we'll pull up the sapling and hand that to +Orvil. If the gadget is light, we'll swim back to the runabout with it, +push the runabout away from the cove into the river, and then get aboard +and come home."</p> + +<p>Rick concluded, "With Orvil's motor going, no one would hear our +bubbles."</p> + +<p>Steve had followed the plan carefully. "Fair enough," he agreed. "It's a +good plan. No one will see you enter the cove, and no one will see you +leave. There will be only Orvil Harris catching crabs as usual."</p> + +<p>Scotty spoke up. "We could make one change, Steve. You could be with us, +either in the water or in the runabout."</p> + +<p>Steve shook his head. "No thanks, Scotty. I have some business of my own +later tonight. You carry out your plan and I'll carry out mine."</p> + +<p>"Is your business connected with ours?" Rick asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I'm going to follow a different line of investigation. If it +brings results, we'll compare notes at breakfast."</p> + +<p>"We could postpone recovery and help you tonight," Scotty suggested.</p> + +<p>Steve smiled warmly. "Thanks, but no thanks. What I have to do is for a +lone hand. Rick, you phone Orvil Harris and make arrangements."</p> + +<p>Rick consulted the telephone directory and turned to Steve. "Any chance +the line may be bugged?"</p> + +<p>"I doubt it. You might ask Orvil if he's on a party line, though. If he +is, be careful. If not, go ahead and talk."</p> + +<p>Orvil Harris had a private line, so Rick described their adventure in +the cove and asked for the crabber's help. Harris responded at once, as +the boys had known he would.</p> + +<p>"I'll come by at half past three. You hook on and I'll tow you to the +mouth of the creek, then you cut loose. We'll fix up the details when I +see you."</p> + +<p>Rick thanked him and hung up. "All set," he reported. "But we'll get +little sleep tonight."</p> + +<p>"It's only about eight," Steve pointed out. "You could go to bed right +away." He managed to say it with a straight face.</p> + +<p>"We could," Scotty agreed. "But we won't. How about a little television +tonight?"</p> + +<p>Steve waved a hand. "Take your pick. Medical drama, crime drama, western +drama."</p> + +<p>"The purpose of television drama," Rick declared, "is to provide an +escape from the real world into the world of fantasy. So no crime drama +for us because that's the real world. We will watch a medical-type +show."</p> + +<p>"Western," Scotty said. "Trot-trot, bang-bang."</p> + +<p>"Medical." Rick held out a hand dramatically. "Scalpel! Sponge! Quick, +nurse, tighten the frassen-stat! The patient is going into nurbeling +aspoxium!"</p> + +<p>"Western." Scotty crouched, hand curved at his thigh. "Make your play, +Brant!"</p> + +<p>"Medical." Rick tapped an imaginary stethoscope on his palm. "I regret +that you have all the symptoms of thickus headus, Mr. Scott."</p> + +<p>Steve held up both hands. "Whoa, Mr. Scott. You too, Dr. Brant. As the +only impartial participant, I will select. We will improve your minds by +finding a panel show about the problems of agriculture in Basutoland."</p> + +<p>The boys groaned.</p> + +<p>It turned out to be an entertaining TV evening, with one good show +following another, and the late show an exciting sea adventure filmed +many years before the boys were born, but one of their favorites from +other late-night movies. The three had no intention of staying up to +watch it, but lingered for the first reel—and were lost.</p> + +<p>It was the same with the late, late show, a horror movie so badly done +that it served as a new type of comedy. By this time, all were too tired +to go to bed, and by mutual consent, they watched the program to the +end, then rallied in the kitchen for sandwiches and coffee.</p> + +<p>By the time the boys had retired to the houseboat, checked their +equipment, and climbed into diving suits of black neoprene with helmets +and socks, Orvil Harris was coming down the creek.</p> + +<p>Scotty checked the runabout outboard to make sure it would start easily +and that there was plenty of gas, while Rick put their tanks and +regulators aboard. Then, with a final farewell to Steve, the boys got +aboard Orvil's boat, secured the runabout to the stern, and started off.</p> + +<p>On the way to Swamp Creek, Rick and Scotty described their plan to the +crabber. Harris slapped his thigh. "Now we're gettin' somewhere. You +just lay the pole and rope up on the gunwale as I go by, and leave the +rest to me. If the thing on the bottom is too heavy, I can pull it in. +Got a line to put on it?"</p> + +<p>Rick admitted they had forgotten that detail. "We can cut a length off +the pole line."</p> + +<p>"No need. Plenty of short lengths in that rope locker behind you. Take +what you need."</p> + +<p>The boys each selected a ten-foot length of half-inch nylon rope, +sufficiently long for hauling the object up, if need be.</p> + +<p>Harris asked, "Sure you can find your way underwater in the dark?"</p> + +<p>"We have wrist compasses with luminous dials," Scotty explained.</p> + +<p>"Good. Any danger of you comin' up under me?"</p> + +<p>"No. We'll see the white bubbles from your prop. They'll be +phosphorescent." Rick pointed to the crab boat's wake. Thousands of tiny +bay creatures, most of them almost invisible bits of jelly, flashed blue +white as the prop disturbed them, so that the wake twinkled as though +studded with stars.</p> + +<p>They fell silent as Harris crossed the Little Choptank, the steady beat +of his motor nearly lost in the darkness. Rick could not make out +details or landmarks, but Harris knew the way as well as he knew the +inside of his own boat. Rick enjoyed the coolness of the night, and even +the heavy scent of the salted eel the crabber used as bait.</p> + +<p>Harris tapped each boy on the shoulder in turn, and pointed. They could +barely make out the entrance to the creek. They nodded, and shook hands, +then Rick pulled the runabout towline and brought the smaller boat to +the crabber's stern. Scotty stepped aboard and held out a hand. Rick +joined him, casting off as he embarked. In a moment they were adrift.</p> + +<p>It took only five minutes to get their tanks in place, put on fins, and +go through their routine of checking weight belt releases, making +certain that the emergency valves were in the "up" position on the +tanks, and ensuring that regulators were operating smoothly. Rick +slipped into the water with only a small splash, and Scotty followed. +They took the runabout's bow rope and swam easily and quietly.</p> + +<p>There was no hurry. Orvil Harris would need a little time to put out his +lines. He would avoid the pole they had placed; its top would be above +water at this stage of the tide.</p> + +<p>Scotty led the way to the opening into the small waterway through which +they had gone to the duck blind. He found it without difficulty, and for +the thousandth time Rick marveled at his pal's sure sense of position +and direction, even in darkness. The boat was pushed backward into the +opening and tied to a root.</p> + +<p>Rick rinsed his mask, put it on, and slid noiselessly under the water. +Scotty followed in a direct line, letting Rick pick the course, and +following by the feeling of Rick's flipper wash on his cheeks.</p> + +<p>It was like swimming in ink. Rick kept his hands out in case of +unexpected underwater objects, but forged ahead at a good speed. He kept +track of his own rate of progress through the water by timing the number +of flutter kicks per minute. At the count of fifty he turned to the +left, heading directly into the creek's mouth. He could hear the steady +beat of Orvil's motor. When he estimated he had covered the proper +distance, he stopped and let Scotty catch up with him. He put a hand on +his pal's shoulder and pressed down, a signal to hold position. Then, +very carefully, he swam to the top of the water and lifted his head +above the surface. He could see the sapling a dozen yards away, slightly +to his right. Orvil was putting out lines upstream, near the point where +Swamp Creek widened into the cove.</p> + +<p>Rick went under again and tapped Scotty. He headed for the pole, hands +outstretched to intercept it. His left hand hit it and held. Scotty came +alongside and they swam to the bottom. Both gripped the pole, put fins +flat against the muddy bottom, and heaved. The pole came up without +difficulty. While Scotty held it, Rick wrapped rope around it until the +line was fully wound again. Orvil's motor was nearer now. Rick took one +end of the pole while Scotty took the other. They operated entirely by +touch; nothing was visible except the luminous dials of their compasses. +The motor sound was muted in the burbling exhaust of their bubbles.</p> + +<p>It was almost possible to stand on flipper tips with head above water. +The boys thrust their heads out with care, and saw Orvil bearing down on +them, peering forward anxiously. He waved when he saw the two helmeted +heads. There was a slight gleam from the masks even in the darkness. As +he came alongside, the boys held the pole overhead, water churning under +their flippers. Orvil bent and took it, lifted it on board, and +continued on his path.</p> + +<p>The boys went under again, operating on a prearranged plan. This time +they swam side by side, hands searching for the fish line. Since Rick +knew the approximate position where he had tied it to the projecting +stump, he led the way toward shallow water, hoping to intercept it.</p> + +<p>The water shoaled rapidly as the boys approached the shore. Scotty's +hand suddenly gripped Rick's, and Rick felt the line.</p> + +<p>At the same instant, Rick was aware of bubbles in the water, a trail of +faint phosphorescence shooting downward past his mask. Then something +glanced from his tank and he heard a sharp clang like a brazen bell in +his ears. The impact rolled him partly over, and as he turned, another +line of phosphorescence streaked past his eyes.</p> + +<p>The skin on his back crawled in the blazing moment of recognition. They +were being shot at!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>The Night Watchers</h3> + + +<p>Scotty, who had realized they were being shot at, was pulling at Rick's +arm in frantic jerks, trying to lead him back into deeper water. Rick +needed no urging. His fins thrashed in the shallows as he drove +desperately for the safety of the deepest part of the cove, his hands +keeping contact with the bottom.</p> + +<p>The increased pressure on his eardrums told him they had reached the +sanctuary of deeper water where the velocity of bullets would be +absorbed before they could strike. He was bewildered. What had happened? +Who was shooting? For a moment it crossed his mind that Orvil might be +doing the shooting, but he dismissed it. He had no proof that the +crabber hadn't suddenly turned on them; he just didn't believe it.</p> + +<p>Yesterday Scotty had seen watchers on the shore, presumably from +Calvert's Favor. Apparently the watchers were there now. The boys had +gone into shallow water, and their tanks had shown above the surface, +drawing fire. It was the only reasonable explanation. Probably the night +watchers had seen the pole handed up to Orvil, or had seen the faint +light reflecting from their masks.</p> + +<p>What had happened to Orvil?</p> + +<p>One thing was certain. They couldn't stay on the bottom indefinitely.</p> + +<p>Rick consulted his wrist compass and closed his fingers on Scotty's +shoulder. He led the way toward the mouth of the cove.</p> + +<p>Somewhere on the shore, he thought, the night gunmen were watching the +line of bubbles. The boys' only hope of escaping detection had been to +avoid drawing attention to themselves. Rick knew that was impossible +with watchers on the shore. Watchers at four in the morning was one +thing he hadn't expected. What had drawn them?</p> + +<p>Suddenly he knew. While he, Steve, and Scotty had examined the mansion +through glasses from Orvil's boat, Merlin and company, or a single +guard, had been watching them. They had drawn attention not only to +Orvil, but to the time of day when the guards would need to be +especially alert.</p> + +<p>Bubbles would attract the guards' attention, not only because they +foamed on the surface, but because they would leave a glow of +phosphorescence. How far would bubbles and glow be visible? He had a +mental image of the watchers following the shoreline. They couldn't +cross the creek or its mouth to where Steve's runabout was stowed, but +they could shoot that far, if they could see the bubbles.</p> + +<p>The only way for Scotty and him to escape was to eliminate the bubble +track. That meant not breathing. Not breathing was possible for a short +time. During the interval, they could swim into the marsh grass and use +it for cover.</p> + +<p>Rick's thoughts raced. He tried to recall the shoreline. There must be +some promontory, some outcropping of grass, behind which they could +hide. Perhaps the best way was simply to swim directly out from the +creek mouth until distance hid the bubbles and darkness shrouded two +black-covered heads.</p> + +<p>There was a problem, though. Scotty's air tank hadn't been used until +now. Rick's had, during the initial search yesterday. He estimated +quickly. Less air is used at shallow depths than at deeper depths. The +water depth for most of the way was shallow enough so that tank time was +essentially the same as swimming on the surface. He had had at least +forty-five minutes of air to begin with, and it might be stretched to +fifty minutes. He probably had used no more than forty minutes of air, +total. But the remaining ten minutes would not take them out into really +deep water in the river itself, and then back to shore. There was not +enough air to take them to Steve's place.</p> + +<p>He had to make up his mind. Scotty, undoubtedly, was doing some fast +thinking along the same lines. Their thoughts usually followed the same +track in such situations. Rick touched Scotty's side and forged ahead, +heading straight out. He counted his kicks, estimating distance covered. +When he reached a count of three hundred he angled right, toward the +north shore of the Little Choptank. They were well out of the creek now.</p> + +<p>When the water shoaled, he found Scotty again and pressed him down; +then, very gingerly, he put his head above water, half expecting to feel +the shock of a bullet.</p> + +<p>There was a fallen tree nearby. He submerged again, touched Scotty, and +led the way to its shelter. A cautious survey told him they were some +distance from the creek mouth, and certainly invisible behind the +waterlogged trunk and its load of leaves and other debris.</p> + +<p>He put his lips to Scotty's ear. "Wonder what happened to Orvil?"</p> + +<p>"We've got to find out," Scotty whispered back.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but how?"</p> + +<p>"We go overland."</p> + +<p>Of course! They were on the same side as the boat, and not far away. +There was the stretch of marsh between the channel and the creek. They +could cross that, and overlook the creek. "Let's go," Rick whispered.</p> + +<p>They inched their way along the fallen tree to the bank, then crawled +slowly into the shelter of the marsh grass. The grass grew in a narrow +swath at this point, with a tangle of scrub and trees deeper inland. +They kept going until the scrub concealed them, listening for sounds +from the creek. There was the beat of a motor. It sounded like Orvil's +boat, and Rick thought it probably was. But would Orvil continue +crabbing? Again the doubt came. Had the crabber tried to kill them? He +couldn't believe it.</p> + +<p>The boys stopped and slipped off their fins. "Lead on," Rick said +softly.</p> + +<p>"Okay. When we get to the boat, we'll wade across the channel and +continue right on through the marsh grass to the bank of the creek. We'd +better be as quiet as possible."</p> + +<p>"I'm with you."</p> + +<p>Carrying their swim fins, the boys started through the dense growth, +Scotty in the lead. It was hard going. Mosquitoes whined in a steady +swarm around their heads, but with the neoprene suits and helmets, only +their faces and hands were exposed. Each traveled with one hand +outstretched to fend off branches, the other hand waving the fins to +chase the insects from their faces. The outstretched hands were wiped +frequently across the suits to get rid of the pests.</p> + +<p>Rick was careful to step where Scotty stepped. When it came to silent +tracking at night, the ex-Marine had few peers.</p> + +<p>The two skirted the shore, keeping within the tree belt, until more +marsh grass warned them that the water was near. The ground gave way to +mud, and the mud to water. They stepped into the narrow channel up which +they had gone to the blind. They now were less than two yards from the +runabout. Scotty turned at once, and keeping to the water, moved +upstream. Rick followed, careful not to splash. The darkness was less +dense than under the trees, but he could not make out any details.</p> + +<p>The channel ran roughly parallel to the creek, with a strip of land +about thirty yards wide between the two. When Scotty estimated they were +even with the cove, he left the channel and moved into the marsh grass +again. Rick followed closely, careful to make no noise. In spite of +their best efforts there was an occasional sucking sound as his foot or +Scotty's pulled out of the muck, and there was a steady rustle of marsh +grass. He hoped that the sounds were drowned out by the steady chugging +of Orvil's motor.</p> + +<p>Scotty slowed to a cautious pace and Rick knew they were approaching the +creek bank. The marsh grass did not thin appreciably. Rick wondered if +the night watchers could see the tassels of the grass waving as they +approached, and decided that the small motion probably was invisible +against the high bank of trees farther inland.</p> + +<p>Rick stopped as Scotty turned. Soundlessly, Scotty lowered himself to +the mud, then inched ahead, moving each strand of marsh grass with care. +Rick followed suit, and crawled in Scotty's track until he saw the +glimmer of water. Then, moving with great caution, he drew alongside his +pal. They looked out into the cove through a thin screen of grass +stalks.</p> + +<p>Orvil Harris was crabbing, as unconcerned as though nothing had +happened. As Rick stared, disbelieving, the crabber's net swooped.</p> + +<p>The crab boat moved on, exposing a glow on the opposite bank. Rick +sucked in his breath. He could make out the forms of two men. One was +smoking a cigarette. Both carried rifles.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>Daybreak</h3> + + +<p>Rick tugged at Scotty's suit, then crawfished backward through the marsh +grass until he was sure the night watchers could not see him. He stood +up, and Scotty joined him. Rick motioned toward their own boat.</p> + +<p>The boys made their way back through the swamp to the runabout in almost +total silence, each busy with his own thoughts.</p> + +<p>Orvil Harris was crabbing as though nothing had happened, while the +night watchers stood in plain sight on the opposite shore. Orvil must +have seen the shots fired, Rick was certain. Even if he had been looking +the other way, the first shot would have caught his attention.</p> + +<p>Or, Rick wondered, had Orvil tipped off the two guards that divers were +below? If so, the game was up. Once Merlin and company knew the payload +had fallen into the cove, they would be diving for it themselves, under +cover of guns. Merlin undoubtedly knew that the launching the evening of +the squall had gone wrong, but he couldn't know how, or where.</p> + +<p>But somehow, Rick didn't think Orvil had been a party to the shooting. +Maybe it was stubbornness, refusing to think the crabber was involved +just because they liked him. Or maybe it was because the crabber had no +reason for helping Merlin and his gang; at least Harris had no reason +known to Rick and Scotty.</p> + +<p>They reached the boat and conferred in whispers that were inaudible six +feet away.</p> + +<p>"Could Orvil have put the finger on us?" Scotty questioned.</p> + +<p>Rick shrugged. "I don't want to think so, and I don't. But I have to +admit it's possible."</p> + +<p>"If he's in with them, they'll be diving for the 'what's-it' at first +light."</p> + +<p>Rick glanced at the eastern sky. It was beginning to glow with the first +hint of daylight. "That's not long from now."</p> + +<p>"How are we going to recover it first?"</p> + +<p>Again Rick shrugged. "There's only one way. Go in and get it."</p> + +<p>"Under those guns?"</p> + +<p>"A diver on the bottom isn't in danger from the guns. I could find the +thing again without going into the shallows. That's what made us targets +before, because we took the easy way to locate the fish line by going +into the shallows near where I tied the line."</p> + +<p>"Let's see your tank," Scotty whispered.</p> + +<p>Rick unsnapped his harness release and swung the tank around. Their +probing fingers soon identified where the bullet had glanced off. There +was a dent, coated with silvery metal.</p> + +<p>"Lead," Rick said. "Part of the slug."</p> + +<p>"Good thing it didn't rupture the tank."</p> + +<p>Rick shuddered. "If it had, I'd have been out of air suddenly and +would've had to come up. Listen, Scotty. My plan is a simple one. I'll +take your tank, since you have the most air, and swim right into the +cove, find the 'what's-it' and swim out again. If it's too heavy to tow +far, I can at least wrestle it part of the way, and then bury it in the +mud. Meanwhile, you get the boat out where it's clear and be ready to +pick me up."</p> + +<p>"They'll see your bubbles, but they can't do anything about it with +rifles," Scotty pointed out. "One thing they can do, though, is jump in +after you. The cove isn't so deep that a pair of good swimmers couldn't +tackle you. The lung wouldn't improve your chances by much."</p> + +<p>"Too true," Rick observed. "But what else can we try?"</p> + +<p>Scotty thought it over. "Listen, we'll take the boat out right now. +You'll have to do the diving, because you know about where the thing is, +and I don't. When we get out, you go over the side. I'll run around to +the river, opposite where the guards are standing, and raise a little +fuss. That might draw their attention away from the cove."</p> + +<p>"Okay." It made sense to Rick. "They'll see both of us in the boat, but +they won't see me get out. Only you'd better plan our course. I have no +aching desire to collect a rifle slug where it hurts."</p> + +<p>"They may not shoot if they see we're leaving," Scotty pointed out.</p> + +<p>"Uh-huh. And they might shoot, anyway."</p> + +<p>"They might. But we'll be moving fast, and I'll swing that boat from +side to side like a swivel-hipped fullback. Let's get going. We don't +want too much daylight."</p> + +<p>Scotty unsnapped his harness and Rick took his pal's tank and regulator. +They put Rick's unit in the bottom of the runabout cockpit, along with +Scotty's fins and mask. Rick put on his own fins and made sure he was +ready to hit the water at a moment's notice.</p> + +<p>Rick went to the stern of the runabout and felt down the motor leg to +the prop to make sure it had not picked up any grass that might slow +them down. It was clear. Scotty, meanwhile, untied the boat and slid +into the driver's seat. Rick reached over the transom and pumped up the +gasoline tank to ensure plenty of pressure, then he waded to the side of +the boat and got into the seat next to Scotty.</p> + +<p>"Pull us out to where the nose is almost projecting beyond the grass," +Scotty whispered.</p> + +<p>Rick did so, by grasping clumps of marsh grass and pulling the boat +along. As the bow cleared the grass, Scotty punched the starter button, +threw the runabout into gear, and shoved the throttle all the way +forward.</p> + +<p>The runabout jumped forward, slamming Rick back against his tank. The +boat hit the shoal at the entrance and slowed for a long, breathtaking +moment, then the driving prop pushed it over into deeper water. The +stern went down and the bow lifted, and they were clear.</p> + +<p>Scotty swung the boat to the right, putting its stern to the cove. Rick +tensed, expecting any moment to feel the impact of a rifle bullet, +either in the boat or in his own body. There was no sound other than the +racing motor, and he knew it would drown out the crack of a distant +rifle.</p> + +<p>The distance from the cove entrance widened. "Get ready!" Scotty yelled. +"Lay flat and be ready to roll. I'll turn so the motor is moving away +from you. When I tap you, we'll be directly in line with the cove +entrance."</p> + +<p>Rick moved out of the seat, keeping low, and lay on his side along the +gunwale, facing Scotty. He put the mouthpiece in place and made sure he +was getting air, then pulled his mask down. He was ready. The impact +with the water would be hard, at this speed, but his tank would cushion +the shock. He tensed for the signal.</p> + +<p>Scotty swung the boat to the left, held it on course for a moment, then +began a shallow turn to the right. That way, the motor would be steering +itself away from Rick when he went over.</p> + +<p>The boat came abreast of the cove entrance and Scotty slapped Rick on +the shoulder. Instantly Rick rolled, one hand reaching for the back of +his head, the other grabbing his mask. He hit the water on his back, his +hand and the tank breaking the shock of the stunning impact. He threw +his legs upward, and his momentum took him under the water instantly.</p> + +<p>The racing motor receded, leaving him in silent darkness. He rolled over +into normal swimming position and consulted his wrist compass. The creek +entrance ran on a course of 80 degrees. If Scotty had gauged things +correctly, that course would take him into the cove. If Scotty hadn't, +Rick Brant would end up on the beach like a stranded whale.</p> + +<p>Rick considered. The boat was gone, and it was extremely unlikely anyone +had seen him leave it. The turn had caused the boat to tilt, lifting the +side away from him. He was certain that the guards had not seen the +maneuver. That being so, and taking into account his distance from the +creek entrance, he thought it would be safe to look and check his +course.</p> + +<p>He held the compass in front of his eyes, and rose to the surface. He +broke through slowly and without a splash. One look was enough. He +should have trusted Scotty. He was dead on course.</p> + +<p>Rick went to the bottom and began the long swim, counting his leg +strokes. He and Scotty had practiced estimating underwater distance by +the number and timing of their leg strokes. It wasn't an exact method, +of course, but it was practical.</p> + +<p>There were no underwater obstacles, and the depth was great enough. Rick +remembered from the chart that the entrance into the creek varied from +eight to eleven feet, dropping inside the creek mouth to about seven. No +bullet could harm him if he stayed on the bottom. If the night watchers +fired, the bullet would be slowed by the water.</p> + +<p>He heard the sound of a motor and recognized it as the runabout. The +sound faded again. Scotty was going through some kind of maneuvers. +Then, in a short time, another motor made itself felt, more than heard. +The slower beat identified it as Orvil Harris's crab boat. He was +nearing the cove!</p> + +<p>Like all divers, Rick's ears were sensitive to pressure changes. Sensing +when the depth lessened, he knew he had reached the cove itself. Now to +find the payload—if it was a payload. His groping hands began the +search.</p> + +<p>The first foreign object he touched was a cord. It was the wrong +thickness for his own line, and he felt along it until he came to a +soft, round mass, and knew he was touching one of Orvil's crab baits. He +grinned in spite of the mouthpiece. Wouldn't Orvil be surprised if a +diver came up hanging to his bait!</p> + +<p>He let the crab line drop and continued his search. Once, Orvil passed +within a few feet of him, and Rick wondered if the crabber had noticed +the air bubbles from his regulator.</p> + +<p>Rising ground told Rick he had reached the end of the cove. He turned +left and held his course for about twenty feet, then turned left again, +heading back toward the cove entrance. His hands never stopped moving, +probing the mud for a trace of fish line. He crossed another of Orvil's +crab lines, and kept going until pressure change told him he was back in +the deeper water at the creek entrance. He turned right again. A check +of his compass told him he was on course.</p> + +<p>His groping hands trailed over a thin line. He grabbed it, and stopped +his flutter kick. Then, moving with care, he turned and followed the +line. His pulse was faster now, and he rigidly controlled his breathing. +Fast breathing wouldn't do, and he would have to be careful not to let +out a sigh that would cause bubbles to gush upward in one big rush.</p> + +<p>A hand found the end of the line and the smooth cylinder to which it was +attached. Orvil passed very close, and Rick looked upward. He could see +the white circle of water around the single propeller.</p> + +<p>Now to find out what he had. His hands stroked it from one end to the +other. One end was rounded. The other was a circle with an odd-shaped +hole running into it. Rick poked his finger in, but couldn't feel the +end of the depression. The only protuberance on the thing was a band +near the rounded end. The band felt like metal, and had two rings +projecting from it. The rest of the cylinder didn't feel like metal. The +texture was that of a smooth plastic.</p> + +<p>Rick lifted the object gingerly. It was hard to estimate weight under +water, but he thought ten pounds would be about right. The total length +was less than three feet. It would be easy to carry.</p> + +<p>This time he needed a reciprocal compass course. It would be 260 degrees +going out. He oriented himself properly, picked up the cylinder, and +began the long swim back. He wondered if Merlin's guards were watching +his bubbles. He had seen no sign of bullets, but he hadn't been looking +for them. With Orvil's motor so near, it was likely he would not have +heard the slap of a bullet on the water.</p> + +<p>Pressure told him he was out of the cove. He breathed a little easier. +Now to count leg strokes again. He looked up, and saw that the surface +of the water was shining with light, the first rays of true daylight. +Scotty would have no trouble finding him.</p> + +<p>Because of the daylight, he continued on for a distance beyond where +Scotty had dropped him. No use giving the guards too good a shot. +Finally, exhausted, he surfaced. He lifted his mask and surveyed the +scene.</p> + +<p>Orvil Harris was still crabbing. Rick could see the boat, but the angle +was wrong for him to see the crabber at work. He turned slowly in the +water, and saw Scotty. The runabout was floating, motor off, about a +mile away. He lifted an arm. The glint of first sunrise turned the +lenses of Scotty's binoculars into a crimson eye, and Scotty waved back. +In a few seconds Rick heard the motor start and saw the boat racing +toward him. He kept his mouthpiece in place, and floated, waiting.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="illus3" id="illus3"></a> +<img src="images/illus3.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3><i>Now to find out what he had</i></h3> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Scotty came alongside and reached down. Rick handed him the cylinder. +Scotty put it on the seat without even looking at it. He gave Rick a +hand and pulled him over the side. He asked anxiously, "Are you all +right?"</p> + +<p>"Done in," Rick said wearily. "But otherwise okay."</p> + +<p>"Let's get out of here." Scotty put the runabout in gear and headed back +toward Martins Creek.</p> + +<p>Rick sat down and picked up the cylinder. There was a gob of mud still +on it. He wiped it off with his hand and examined the thing. The +material was fiber glass set in resin, and it was designed so the +rounded nose could be removed. He didn't remove it, however. Instead he +looked at the other end, down into the hole with the puzzling shape. It +was like a cutout Star of David in shape, the hole gradually narrowing +until its apex was almost at the other end.</p> + +<p>The light dawned. Rick's lips formed the word. "Grain."</p> + +<p>Scotty was watching. "What?"</p> + +<p>"Grain," Rick said again. "This thing is a small solid-propellant +rocket!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>The Empty Boat</h3> + + +<p>The Swiss torsion clock on Steve Ames's fireplace mantle read 6:49. Rick +and Scotty, in slacks, shirts, and moccasins, sat in armchairs and tried +to stay awake. The small rocket, cleaned and dried, rested on a +newspaper on Steve's table.</p> + +<p>"Rockoon," Rick said. "That explains the funny antenna, the presence of +the electronics expert, and why the stingarees are launched."</p> + +<p>"Not to me, it doesn't," Scotty retorted. He sipped steaming coffee. +"What was that word you used? Grain?"</p> + +<p>Rick nodded sleepily. "That's what solid rocket fuel is called. It's +poured into the casing around a form. The form is withdrawn after the +fuel hardens. The shape is designed to give maximum burning surface. +Since the solid fuel is grainy, it's called grain."</p> + +<p>"Logical," Scotty replied with a languid wave of his hand. "All +perfectly logical. I also understand that a rockoon is a combination of +a rocket and a balloon. The balloon carries the rocket up to where the +air is less dense, then the rocket fires and breaks away. How does the +rocket know when to fire?"</p> + +<p>"Two ways. A barometric switch can be installed that will act at a +certain altitude, or a signal can be sent from the ground."</p> + +<p>"The antenna," Scotty said. "It can send a signal."</p> + +<p>"Sure."</p> + +<p>"I'm with you all the way, until you say this shows why the stingarees +fly. Why send up rockoons? What's the reason?"</p> + +<p>Rick forgot he was holding a coffee cup and waved his hand. He recovered +in time to keep from spilling the hot liquid on Steve's rug. "Scientific +research is usually the reason for rockoons. They carry experiments."</p> + +<p>Scotty snorted. "Are you telling me Lefty Camillion has turned +scientist?"</p> + +<p>"Nope." Rick yawned. "I take it back. We still don't know why the +stingarees fly. We only know what they are. Where do you suppose Steve +is?"</p> + +<p>"That's the eighth time you've asked. He'll be here when that business +of his is over."</p> + +<p>The telephone rang. Rick jumped to his feet and beat Scotty to the phone +only because he was four steps nearer. "Hello?"</p> + +<p>An unfamiliar voice spoke. "Stay away from the creek, and stay away from +the house. If you don't, your crab-catching buddy is going to be turned +into crab food." The line went dead.</p> + +<p>Rick turned, eyes wide. Suddenly he was no longer sleepy. "Did you hear +that? He said to stay away from the creek and the house, or our +crab-catching buddy would be turned into crab food!"</p> + +<p>"He must have meant Orvil Harris!" Scotty exclaimed. "Rick, let's get +going!"</p> + +<p>The boys started for the door at a run, but Rick stopped as his eye +caught the rocket. "Check the gas," he told Scotty. "Steve has a spare +can in the workshop. The runabout tank must be getting low. I'm going to +hide the rocket."</p> + +<p>Scotty left at a run. Rick picked up the rocket and surveyed the scene. +Where could he hide it? He hurried into the kitchen and examined the +cabinets, then shook his head. Too obvious.</p> + +<p>The refrigerator caught his eye. An apron at the bottom concealed the +motor unit. He knelt and pulled the apron free from its fastenings. +There was room next to the motor—unless the heat of the motor caused +the rocket fuel to burn. He opened the refrigerator and examined the +control, then turned it to "defrost." It wouldn't go on until they got +back. Hurriedly he put the small rocket in at a slight angle. It just +fit. He snapped the cover back in place and ran to join Scotty, who was +already in the boat.</p> + +<p>"Gas okay," Scotty called. "Let's go."</p> + +<p>Rick cast off and jumped aboard. Scotty started the motor and backed +into the stream, then turned sharply and headed toward the river. +Neither boy spoke. Their sleepiness was gone now, forgotten in their +fear for Orvil.</p> + +<p>Scotty held the runabout wide open, at its top speed of nearly twenty +miles an hour. They sped across the Little Choptank River straight for +Swamp Creek, with no effort at concealment.</p> + +<p>Rick saw a low, white boat some distance down the river and grabbed +Scotty's arm. "Isn't that Orvil's boat?"</p> + +<p>Scotty looked for a long moment. "It looks like it. Let's go see."</p> + +<p>They swung onto a new course, in pursuit of the white boat. It might not +be Orvil's, but it was like it. Both boys could now recognize the design +characteristic of boats built on the Chesapeake Bay. The boats were +known as "bay builts," and distinguished by their straight bows—almost +vertical to the water line—square sterns, and flaring sides. The design +was ideal for the shallow, choppy waters of the bay, and the boats could +take a heavy bay storm with greater comfort and safety than most +deep-water models.</p> + +<p>As they came closer both boys looked for the boat's occupant, but there +was no one in sight. Worried, Scotty held top speed until they were +nearly alongside, then he throttled down and put his gunwale next to +that of the crab boat.</p> + +<p>"It's Orvil's," Rick said. "But where is he?"</p> + +<p>"Get aboard," Scotty suggested.</p> + +<p>"Okay." Rick stood up and timed his motion with the slight roll of both +boats, then stepped into the crabber. Orvil's crab lines were coiled +neatly in their barrels, the stone crab-line anchors and floats were +stacked along the side of the boat. There were three covered bushel +baskets of crabs, and extra baskets stacked in place. One open basket +held a dozen jumbo crabs. Orvil's net was in its rack on the engine box, +but there was no sign of Orvil himself.</p> + +<p>Wait—there was a sign. Rick knelt by a small brown patch on the deck. +He touched it, and a chill lanced through him. Blood, and only recently +dried. Orvil's?</p> + +<p>Rick straightened. Someone had turned the boat loose, idled down to its +lowest speed. The stable crab boat had continued on course, heading out +the mouth of the Little Choptank into the wide bay. Only a bloodstain +showed that there had been violence aboard.</p> + +<p>The flying stingaree had claimed another victim!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>Steve Waits It Out</h3> + + +<p>The two-boat procession moved down Martins Creek at slow speed, Scotty +leading in the runabout and Rick following in Orvil's boat. The boys had +decided to take the crab boat back to Steve's, because it could not be +left adrift, and they did not know where Orvil berthed it.</p> + +<p>Both agreed it was senseless to return to Swamp Creek. That wouldn't +help Orvil, at least for now, and they might possibly be picked off by +the riflemen.</p> + +<p>As they neared the pier, Scotty moved out of the way while Rick backed +the big crab boat into the runabout's place. Before he had finished, +Steve was coming down the walk at a run.</p> + +<p>The agent took the line Rick tossed and made it fast, then caught +another line and secured the bow. Scotty backed in with the runabout and +Rick helped him secure the smaller boat to the side of the crabber.</p> + +<p>"Bumpers on the houseboat," Rick called. "Under the cockpit deck."</p> + +<p>Steve hurried to get them, and they were placed between the crab boat +and the runabout to prevent rubbing.</p> + +<p>The boys climbed to the pier and faced their friend.</p> + +<p>"We found the boat headed into the bay," Rick said grimly. "Bloodstain +on the deck, but no other sign of violence. We had a phone call telling +us to keep away from the creek and the house, or Orvil would be fed to +the crabs. There's no doubt about it. They have Orvil."</p> + +<p>Strangely, Steve replied, "Yes, I know. Come on in the house."</p> + +<p>The three walked up the path to the farmhouse, with Rick and Scotty +staring incredulously at the agent. How had he known?</p> + +<p>"Did you get a phone call after we left?" Rick asked.</p> + +<p>Steve shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Then how did you know?" Scotty demanded.</p> + +<p>Steve held up a hand. "Easy, kids. I'm trying to get my thoughts +straightened out a little and make some plans. We'll talk it over +shortly."</p> + +<p>Inside the house, Rick went at once to the refrigerator. As the others +watched, he pulled the bottom panel loose, took out the small rocket, +and replaced the panel. Then he turned the refrigerator control back to +normal and handed the rocket to Steve.</p> + +<p>The agent examined it wordlessly, his forehead wrinkled in thought. Then +he put it down on the kitchen table and investigated the state of the +coffeepot while Rick and Scotty stood first on one foot, then the other, +and fumed quietly.</p> + +<p>Steve decided more coffee was needed and proceeded to make it. Not until +the pot was heating did he motion the boys to sit down at the kitchen +table. He joined them, turning a chair around and straddling it, his +chin resting on his hands on the back, his eyes alert.</p> + +<p>"Testing our patience again?" Rick asked acidly.</p> + +<p>Steve's warm grin flashed. "Sorry, kids. I was working over a few facts +in my head, trying to make them add up. Okay, let's talk. Start by +telling me about last night."</p> + +<p>The boys reported, taking turns. "At first we thought Orvil might have +told the riflemen guards we were on the bottom," Rick said finally, "but +that's out. He's a victim, not a member of the gang. I saw his boat just +before Scotty picked me up, but I couldn't see him."</p> + +<p>Scotty picked up the tale. "After Rick dropped off, I made a high-speed +run out into the river, then turned and headed for a spot on the north +bank opposite where I thought the guards were. I got in close to shore +and throttled down, deliberately giving them a chance at me if they +wanted to take it. There weren't any shots, but I saw one of the guards. +The visibility wasn't very good, so I propped the extra tank up in the +seat and put my headpiece and mask on it, hoping any watchers would +think there were two of us. I don't know whether they were fooled or +not."</p> + +<p>"Pretty smart," Steve approved.</p> + +<p>"Thanks. I ran back out into the river and fished around in the locker +under the seat. You had a few old wrenches there, and some rags. Well, I +owe you a wrench. It was the biggest one, which means it isn't used very +often on an outboard, anyway."</p> + +<p>"Just so long as it wasn't my size seven-sixteenths wrench," Steve said +with a grin. "Go on."</p> + +<p>"It wasn't. I wrapped rags around it and tied them with a hunk of line, +then searched for matches. I finally found a paper folder in the glove +compartment. I had to open the gas tank and let out pressure to get any +gas on the rags, and it wasn't easy, standing on my head in the cockpit. +What I really needed was a Coke bottle. I could have made a Molotov +cocktail by filling it with gas and using the rag for a fuse. Well, I +made another run inshore and watched for the boys with rifles. They +didn't show up. I got as close as I could without grounding, touched a +match to my bomb, and heaved it into the marsh grass. My eyebrows took a +beating." Scotty rubbed the slightly scorched areas.</p> + +<p>"I wanted to set the marsh on fire, but the blaze was only a small one. +I figured if the grass would burn, the riflemen would have to run +upstream to safety. But the stuff only charred in a circle. Anyway, it +scared them. They came running to stamp it out, and one of them took a +shot at me. But I was nearly a mile out from the creek by then, and he +didn't even come close."</p> + +<p>"Let's hope I never have you two for enemies," Steve said fervently.</p> + +<p>Scotty concluded, "I decided Rick probably had been in and out of the +cove by that time, so I moved to where I could watch with binoculars, +putting the sunrise behind where I thought he would appear. I knew I +could see him better against the light. Finally up he popped, and away I +went, and here we are."</p> + +<p>Rick ended their recital. "We got back and took off our diving suits, +then went for a swim with a bar of soap. When we were clean, except for +my hands, which got stained by the mud, we dressed and came into the +house. We were sitting down enjoying coffee and trying to keep awake +when the phone rang. How did those hoods get the number, anyway?"</p> + +<p>"That's not hard," Steve said. "It's probable that Camillion's boys +started checking up on you the moment you showed interest. My car is +known at the local gas stations. It would be just a matter of asking who +owns a convertible of that description. Name and telephone directory add +up to the right number. Watching you enter Martins Creek would cap the +information. You could be seen easily with glasses from the river shore +opposite the cove."</p> + +<p>The agent got up and turned down the stove as the coffee began to +percolate. "My tale is pretty short."</p> + +<p>"Wag it, anyway," Rick suggested.</p> + +<p>Steve put a hand to his forehead. "Gags like that at this time of day +cause shooting pains. Please be attentive, and not waggish."</p> + +<p>"Ouch!" Scotty exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Steve sat down again. "After you were safely on your way I changed to +dark clothes, smeared a little black goo on my face, and took off for +Calvert's Favor. I drove to within a half mile and parked the car in the +woods, then hiked. The first thing I came to was a chain-link fence. It +took some time to see if it was wired for an alarm—and it was. So I had +to find a tree with a limb that overhung the fence. I'd taken the +precaution of carrying a rope. I found the tree, fixed the rope to an +overhanging limb, and down I went."</p> + +<p>"We could have postponed recovering the payload and helped you," Scotty +said reproachfully.</p> + +<p>"Sure you could. But I'm used to operating alone, and I was interested +in what you might find in the cove. Anyway, I approached from behind the +barn and had to take cover when two men went by. They had rifles. They +headed down the peninsula toward the cove. I scouted around, but no +other guards were in sight, so I started with the barn."</p> + +<p>Steve paused. "That is quite a barn. No hay, no oats, no horses. But it +has the loveliest dish antenna in it you've ever seen."</p> + +<p>"A microwave dish?" Rick gasped.</p> + +<p>"Exactly. It's mounted on a truck, and I suspect the electronic gear is +inside. I couldn't get a good look. There are also little cubicles +inside the barn, probably horse stalls, and I could hear a man snoring +in one of them. There wasn't much light, and I couldn't use my little +flashlight beam too freely, but I did get a look at several gas bottles +racked along one wall. They were big ones, of the kind used for +commercial gases like propane or oxygen."</p> + +<p>"Or hydrogen?" Scotty asked quickly.</p> + +<p>"Or hydrogen," Steve agreed. "And that's probably what they contain, for +inflating the balloons."</p> + +<p>He got up, turned off the coffee, and poured three cups. "Along about +that time, I heard rifleshots. You can imagine what I thought. I had a +vision of two bodies sinking slowly into the mud. If I'd had a weapon, I +think I'd have run down to see what was going on. But common sense got +the better of me, and I figured it was highly unlikely that a pair of +divers could be picked off with rifles if they were underwater. I was +sure you had sense enough to stay down. So I left the barn and went to +the house."</p> + +<p>"You actually went in?" Rick asked, his eyes wide.</p> + +<p>"Sure. It was safe enough. The gang was sleeping upstairs and the two +guards were interested in you and Orvil. No papers were left where I +could get them. There's a built-in safe, but I'm no Jimmy Valentine who +sandpapers his fingers and opens boxes by touch. I couldn't do anything +with it. Finally, I figured all had been seen that could be seen, and +left the house. I could hear a motor racing, and I recognized the +runabout, so I knew you were still alive. I retired to the woods behind +the barn and headed for the riverbank. I saw Scotty hurl his homemade +bomb."</p> + +<p>Scotty shook his head. "I didn't see you."</p> + +<p>"You weren't supposed to. I decided Scotty must be creating a diversion, +and that meant you, Rick, were still diving in the cove. I took off for +the cove, keeping a weather eye out for the guards. There was plenty of +cover along the bank, so it wasn't hard. I got a good view of the +festivities. After the fire was stamped out, the two guards walked up to +the bank of the cove and waited until Orvil got close, then they pointed +their rifles at him and invited him to come closer still. He didn't have +much choice."</p> + +<p>Rick thought that was an understatement.</p> + +<p>"They questioned him for a while. Who were the divers and what were they +after? Orvil played dumb. He said he knew nothing about divers and of +course he had seen bubbles. He always saw bubbles. Marsh gas was rising +all the time. He couldn't understand what all the shooting was about."</p> + +<p>"Good for Orvil," Scotty muttered.</p> + +<p>"He put on a pretty good act, saying he didn't know what they were +shooting at, but the guards weren't having any. They finally made him +pull up his lines, throw his bait overboard, and get everything +shipshape. Then one of the guards invited him to step ashore. Orvil +balked and took a swing at the nearest one and got a rifle across the +head. He dropped to the deck. That must be how the stain got there. They +slapped him back into consciousness and made him get out. One guard held +a rifle on him while the other put his weapon down and got in the boat. +He took the boat out into the middle of the cove, aimed it toward the +river, and put it in gear, then dove over the side and swam ashore. The +boat headed out and the guards walked Orvil back."</p> + +<p>"So he's alive," Rick said with relief.</p> + +<p>"Probably. I waited until the parade went by, then fell in line. They +took Orvil into the barn, and I managed to get a look through a window. +They tossed him into one of the horse stalls and locked the barn door. I +decided it was time to leave."</p> + +<p>Steve sipped his coffee and made a face as it burned his tongue. "You +can imagine how I felt. If one had gone away, I could have jumped the +other. But two with guns, and me with not even a rock—I was dead +certain to end up with Orvil. Besides, I couldn't take the chance."</p> + +<p>Rick stared. If Steve felt he couldn't take a chance on rescuing Orvil, +there had to be a good reason. The only reason Rick could think of was +that Steve had decided there was more at stake than Orvil himself.</p> + +<p>"We know where Orvil is," Scotty pointed out. "We can go after him. This +time we'll be armed."</p> + +<p>Steve shook his head. "Sorry. I wish it could be like that, but we're +not engaged in a personal vendetta. Orvil may be out of there by +tonight, or he may not. He'll have to take his chances."</p> + +<p>One thing had been bothering Rick, aside from Steve's untypical attitude +about rescuing Orvil. "You haven't accounted for all your time. You +could have reached here before we did if you had started back right +away."</p> + +<p>Steve shook his head. "I didn't. I went to the airport and used a public +phone booth by the side of the road to call Patuxent Naval Air Station. +In twenty minutes I had a Navy jet fighter on the Cambridge field. I +handed the pilot the pictures you took and told him what to do with +them, then I made another call to my office in Washington to tell them +the pictures were on the way and to look them over and take action +accordingly. We'll be seeing the results pretty soon."</p> + +<p>The young agent stopped smiling. "Your little mystery has turned into a +case for JANIG, kids. I'm pretty sure of my facts, but I'll know +definitely before noon. Right now, you'd better finish your coffee and +get into bed. You'll need sleep if things start to pop. That rockoon +idea of yours about cinches things."</p> + +<p>Rick blurted, "If it's a case for JANIG, there must be security involved +somewhere. Is Wallops Island involved somehow?"</p> + +<p>"Go to bed," Steve said sternly. "By the time you wake up, I'll have a +lot more than guesses, and I'll give you the details then."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3>Crowd at Martins Creek</h3> + + +<p>Rick and Scotty awoke to find four newcomers at Steve's house. Steve +introduced them to Dave Cobb, electronics specialist; Joe Vitalli and +Chuck Howard, JANIG agents; and Roy McDevitt from Wallops Island.</p> + +<p>McDevitt, who had just driven over from the rocket range, was a tall, +lean engineer dressed in slacks and a spectacular sport shirt emblazoned +with tropical flowers. He shook hands cordially. "You're Hartson Brant's +boys. We've certainly enjoyed having your family over at the island. +When Barby and Jan leave, the whole base will go into mourning."</p> + +<p>Rick grinned. "Somebody loses, somebody wins. We're anxious to have them +back with us again."</p> + +<p>Vitalli and Howard greeted the boys as old comrades. Although they had +had no chance to become well acquainted, the two agents had been part of +the JANIG team during the case of <i>The Whispering Box Mystery</i>.</p> + +<p>Dave Cobb, who was scarcely older than the boys, had been hastily +borrowed from the Naval Research Laboratory in Washington. He spared no +time for greetings other than a cordial wave, and immediately got to +work on the rocket Rick had found in the cove.</p> + +<p>The group pulled chairs up to the kitchen table on which Cobb was +working, and watched.</p> + +<p>Cobb studied the rocket for a few minutes, then took a pointed tool and +pressed it into a spot five inches below the rounded nose. He rotated +the cylinder and pressed a similar spot on the other side. Rick saw a +thin line appear around the rocket below where Cobb had pressed.</p> + +<p>The electronics specialist gripped the cylinder above and below the thin +line and twisted. The nose of the rocket came off. Cobb pointed to a +pair of metal prongs that extended out of the nose into the rocket +casing. "Contacts," he said. "They press against strips inside the +rocket casing. The whole assembly acts as a dipole antenna."</p> + +<p>No one commented. Cobb took a tiny screwdriver and removed two screws +from a metal plate in the bottom of the nose cone. The screws were long +ones, holding the entire nose assembly in place. With the screws laid +carefully aside, Cobb tapped the cone and the assembly dropped into his +hand.</p> + +<p>"A terrific job of miniaturization," he commented. "First-rate design." +He pointed with a screwdriver to a segment about the size of two silver +dollars stacked together. "Tape recorder. It accumulates data, then +plays it back in a single high-speed burst."</p> + +<p>Rick watched, fascinated, as the electronics expert identified +components and circuits. The whole unit, scarcely larger than a common +soup can, contained receiver, tape recorder, transmitter, batteries, and +command circuits that could be triggered from the ground. It was a +highly complex and beautifully engineered package for receiving data, +storing it, then retransmitting it.</p> + +<p>"But why?" Rick demanded. "Why send up a rockoon at all? What data does +it receive and transmit, and what do the people at the mansion do with +it?"</p> + +<p>"What Rick is asking," Scotty observed, "is the question that has +puzzled us since we got here. Why do the stingarees fly?"</p> + +<p>Steve waved a hand. "Patience for just a few more minutes. Anything +else, Cobb?"</p> + +<p>The electronics expert shook his head. "Not unless you have specific +questions. In summary, this is a very elegant little assembly of +receiver, data recorder, transmitter, and command circuits."</p> + +<p>"Fine. McDevitt, what about the rocket?"</p> + +<p>The man from Wallops Island shrugged. "Nothing very complex about it. +It's a simple solid-fuel rocket with star grain, fired by a squib that +is commanded from the ground. A squib is simply an igniter to start the +fuel burning. Battery power makes it glow red hot when turned on."</p> + +<p>"How high an altitude would the rocket reach?" Steve asked.</p> + +<p>"It's difficult to be precise, but I'd estimate the balloon carries it +to ten thousand feet, then it is fired by signal from the ground at the +proper time. The rocket would go to about one hundred thousand feet, +plus or minus twenty thousand. In other words, I'd guess its maximum +altitude at nearly twenty-three miles."</p> + +<p>"Did you say fired at the proper time, or proper altitude?" Rick asked +quickly. He wanted clarification of the point, although he was sure +McDevitt had said "time."</p> + +<p>"The altitude isn't important. I'd say time was the principal factor."</p> + +<p>"But if altitude isn't important, why use a rockoon? Why not use a +rocket launched directly from the ground?" Scotty demanded. He looked +puzzled.</p> + +<p>Rick looked at Steve expectantly. The young agent smiled. "Got the +answer, Rick?"</p> + +<p>"Maybe. It's a matter of secrecy, isn't it? The folks around here were +puzzled by the flying stingarees, but they would have been more puzzled +by rocket firing. They'd have been curious enough to want to know why +the rockets were being fired, and it's certain that an investigation +would have resulted. By using rockoons, with balloons that didn't look +like balloons, Camillion confused the issue. People who reported seeing +things got laughed at, mostly because they call any unidentified flying +object a flying saucer. The rockets fired only when high in the air, +where people wouldn't notice."</p> + +<p>"Two did," Scotty reminded him. "Remember? We had two interviews where +the people saw spurts of flame."</p> + +<p>"Sure," Rick agreed, "but they had no idea it was a rocket taking off +from a balloon. And only two out of the whole bunch even noticed flame +at all."</p> + +<p>Steve nodded. "You've hit it, Rick. It's the only answer that makes +sense."</p> + +<p>"Not until we know what data were collected by the rockoons," Rick said +stubbornly. "That's the whole key. Nothing will really make sense until +we know that."</p> + +<p>"We ran the dates and times of sightings through the computer with a lot +of other dates and times for various things," Steve explained. "I had a +hunch, but the computer turned it into good comparative data."</p> + +<p>"What data?" Scotty demanded.</p> + +<p>"Every single sighting you collected coincided with the launching of a +research rocket from Wallops Island!"</p> + +<p>The boys sat back, openmouthed. Rick said, "So that's why the glow from +Wallops Island in the south-eastern sky was so significant. That's what +put you on the trail!"</p> + +<p>"Right," Steve agreed. "The yellow glow is from sodium vapor rockets +fired from Wallops. The rockets allow visual measurement of +meteorological data. People around here are used to seeing them to the +southeast, over Wallops. When I saw that sightings had been made over +Swamp Creek at the time of sodium shots, I got an idea. It wasn't much +to go on, but it was at least a good clue. The computer did the rest."</p> + +<p>"Then Lefty Camillion and his friends have been intercepting data from +our rocket launchings at Wallops," Scotty said unbelievingly. "But why? +How could Lefty use data like that? It's all straight, unclassified +scientific and meteorological stuff. He's no scientist."</p> + +<p>Steve grinned. "I doubt that he even knows what the data are. He and his +friends are a bunch of chuckleheads of the very worst kind. But about +what he does with the data—Joe Vitalli has been doing some +investigating along that line."</p> + +<p>Vitalli nodded. "With the FBI. They put agents on the case and found out +Lefty had been in touch with the Soviet Embassy in Washington, through a +third secretary whose function it is to gather various kinds of +scientific intelligence. We're not absolutely certain, but it looks very +much as though Lefty plans to sell his data tapes to the Soviets."</p> + +<p>"So that's why JANIG has moved into the case," Scotty concluded.</p> + +<p>"On the nose," Steve agreed. "Now it's time to move in on our foolish +friends at Calvert's Favor. Do you boys want to take a hand?"</p> + +<p>"Try and leave us out," Rick said with a grin. "JANIG is welcome to +assist us, but the flying stingarees are our babies. Scotty's and mine, +that is."</p> + +<p>"Be glad to have you help," Scotty echoed.</p> + +<p>The JANIG men laughed. "You've got a point," Chuck Howard conceded.</p> + +<p>"Want to plan the operation?" Steve asked with a twinkle.</p> + +<p>Rick held up his hand. "Whoa! We didn't say that. You've got information +we don't have."</p> + +<p>"Only one piece of information," Steve replied. "The time of the next +launching from Wallops Island."</p> + +<p>"When?" Rick asked eagerly.</p> + +<p>"At dusk tonight."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3>The Stingaree's Tail</h3> + + +<p>"This is the plan," Steve Ames said. "Joe and Chuck will approach from +upriver and go around the mansion fence by wading downstream. They'll +stay under cover somewhere at the edge of the mansion grounds until they +hear my signal on the radio to close in—or until they see the balloon +launched. I'll go in the way I did before."</p> + +<p>The two JANIG agents nodded, and bent over the chart borrowed from the +houseboat.</p> + +<p>"Cobb will set up his equipment here at my house," Steve continued, "and +try to intercept all signals from the mansion. McDevitt will set up here +too, and track the balloon through my telescope—if it rises—watching +until the rocket fires. McDevitt also will keep in touch with Wallops +Island by radio, and notify me on the walkie-talkie when the countdown +reaches thirty minutes."</p> + +<p>Steve turned to Rick and Scotty. "Before I go to my post, I'll take you +two to the creek mouth in the runabout. Then you will swim up the creek, +underwater, and take up stations in the weeds directly in front of the +house."</p> + +<p>Rick's pulse stopped. "They'll see our bubbles," he protested. "It would +give the whole show away!"</p> + +<p>Steve motioned to Joe Vitalli. "Show 'em."</p> + +<p>Joe walked to the car in which he and Chuck had driven from Washington, +and opened the trunk. He brought out a pair of riot guns, automatic +shotguns, which he handed to Chuck, then he reached into the trunk and +brought out a pair of small cylinders with full face masks attached.</p> + +<p>"Rebreathers!" Rick exclaimed. He grinned at Steve. "You planned this +before you ever told us what was on your mind!"</p> + +<p>"I thought it was best to be prepared," Steve said. "You know how these +work?"</p> + +<p>Rick nodded. "We both do." The rebreathers, unlike Scubas, which were +filled with compressed air, used oxygen which was recycled through a +canister of chemicals that removed water vapor and carbon dioxide. They +were completely self-contained; no bubbles were emitted.</p> + +<p>Cobb was already opening a pair of leather-covered cases, exposing +electronic gear. He had also brought a portable antenna, which he began +setting up. McDevitt had a radio in his car with which to talk to +Wallops, and Steve handed him one unit of a walkie-talkie radio network. +Another unit went to Chuck, and Steve retained one.</p> + +<p>Steve glanced at his watch. "Let's get going. Time your travel so you +will be in place at eight o'clock on the nose." He looked at the boys. +"Get into your gear, and take spear guns with you. When we move into +action, I want you to bring that balloon down if you can."</p> + +<p>The boys ran to the houseboat. Rick was excited, and he knew Scotty was +feeling the same way. It was the first time they had been in on a JANIG +operation as full partners. Their previous adventures had either been as +accidental participants or as observers.</p> + +<p>They got into full gear, including their skin-tight neoprene helmets and +footgear. Then, leaving their fins and rebreathers, they hurried back to +the others. Joe and Chuck were in their own car, the riot guns and +walkie-talkie out of sight. McDevitt had the telescope set up next to +his car and was practicing with it by tracking a high-flying osprey. +Cobb was finishing work on his electronic setup. His antenna was in +place, the dish on top of the collapsible pole aligned on the compass +direction to Calvert's Favor.</p> + +<p>Steve shook hands with Joe and Chuck. "On your way. See you when the +balloon goes up." He motioned to the boys. "Got spear guns?"</p> + +<p>"We left that till last," Rick said. "Ready to go?"</p> + +<p>"Ready."</p> + +<p>The three hurried down the pier to the houseboat, where the boys took +guns from their spear box. Each chose a high-powered gas gun, operated +by a carbon dioxide cartridge, and selected the spears that would cut +the biggest holes. There would be time for only one shot.</p> + +<p>"Get on the floor in the runabout when we cast off," Steve directed. "If +there are any watchers, I want them to see only one man."</p> + +<p>The boys cast off, then climbed in as Steve backed into the creek. They +crouched on the floor and adjusted the straps on their face masks until +the fit was tight. There was no conversation. Rick was so excited it was +hard to sit still. As they began the crossing of the Little Choptank +River, Steve gave them instructions. "When we get opposite the creek +mouth, the engine is going to stutter and kick up a lot of smoke. The +boat will drift into the smoke and out again. You'll have a few seconds +to go over. I'll pretend to work on the motor, and finally get it +started, but running rough. Then I'll take off and pretend I'm heading +home. Okay?"</p> + +<p>"How are you going to make smoke?" Rick asked.</p> + +<p>Steve reached into his breast pocket and produced a small bottle. "These +are chemicals that smoke when they touch water. Got your plans all +made?"</p> + +<p>Rick looked at Scotty. "We'll have to stick our heads up once in a +while. I'll lead, since I know the creek as far as the cove. When I +think I'm lost, I'll head for the north bank, making a sharp turn. That +will be your signal to stay put, while I look. What I'd like to do is +bring us out in back of the duck blind. We can pick our spots then and +cross the creek when we're ready."</p> + +<p>"Got it," Scotty agreed.</p> + +<p>Steve reached down a hand and squeezed their hands in turn. "Good luck, +kids. And no unnecessary chances. If shooting starts, get underwater +again. We'll have guns, but you'll have only single-shot spear guns."</p> + +<p>"Good luck," the boys said in unison. They put on the masks and turned +the valves that started the oxygen cycles. Rick grinned at Scotty +through the glass, and knew that his grin was strained. Scotty grinned +back and held up his hand with thumb and forefinger making the signal +for "Okay."</p> + +<p>"Be ready," Steve said.</p> + +<p>Rick checked himself once again to be sure all was in order. Weight +belt, knife, compass, spear gun with safety cap on, mask fitting +tightly, and the pack in place. He got ready to jump on Steve's command.</p> + +<p>The outboard slowed, raced, slowed, raced, back-fired, slowed. Steve's +hand went over and trailed chemical in the water. The boat turned, and +Rick saw the smoke cloud rising. The boat went into it, and the motor +cut out.</p> + +<p>"Go," Steve said.</p> + +<p>Rick stood upright and went over the gunwale in a dive, knifing toward +the bottom. He felt the pressure wave as Scotty followed and reached a +hand upward to meet his pal. His hand touched Scotty's arm, found the +hand, and gave it a squeeze. Then, with a glance at his compass to +orient him, Rick started the long swim.</p> + +<p>It was odd to be wearing the oxygen lung. The sound of bubbles from the +customary compressed-air Scubas was missing, and the silence was +strange. Then Steve started the motor of the runabout and Rick heard the +broken rhythm as the motor skipped. He knew that Steve probably had +turned the carburetor mixture to too lean or too rich. Either would +cause the motor to run rough. He kept moving, his fins keeping a steady +stroke. The motor sound grew distant, and finally faded entirely.</p> + +<p>Rick usually depended on pressure to tell him location, but the creek +was too shallow for any strong indication on his ears. He kept going +until the visibility and brightness told him he was in the shallows, +then steered out into the middle of the stream again.</p> + +<p>He thought they must be halfway to the mansion, but wasn't sure. He gave +a pair of swift kicks to alert Scotty, then turned sharp left, rolling +over on his back. He could see the water surface clearly. Rising a +little, he lifted his face above the water for a brief second, then went +back under.</p> + +<p>Now was the time to get behind the duck blind. Rick swam back to where +Scotty waited, and plucked at his shoulder. This time he started off +close to the north shore, heading directly for the duck blind. His +course was straight. In a few moments he found himself among the pilings +and turned to put the blind between himself and the mansion on the +opposite shore. Scotty followed.</p> + +<p>Rick lifted his head cautiously. He saw only the marsh grass and the +back of the blind. He tapped Scotty, who rose until his head was level +with Rick's, his face only a few inches away. They pulled off their +masks.</p> + +<p>"We can swim under the blind and look out the front," Rick whispered. +"There's enough brush to give us cover. We'll each pick our own spot and +go to it. Sound all right?"</p> + +<p>"Okay. Better fix our guns right here, though."</p> + +<p>It was good advice. Rick removed the safety cap from his spear, making +sure the barbed shaft was properly seated. Now he needed only to flick +off the safety catch and fire. Scotty did the same.</p> + +<p>"You go right and I'll go left," Scotty suggested softly. "Be better if +there's a little spread between us. We'll also want to find places where +we can look out. There's some weed along the shore, and I think I +remember a brush pile around a stake near the right-hand edge of the +lawn. One piling is there. There's a bunch of old pilings off to the +left where the original pier was. I can see if there's cover there. If +not, I'll find something."</p> + +<p>Scotty had worn his waterproof watch. It was just four minutes to eight. +Time to get going.</p> + +<p>The boys shook hands, grinned at each other, and pulled their masks back +on. They ducked under the blind, side by side, and swam to the front of +the structure where brush from last year's cover remained.</p> + +<p>Cautiously Rick peered out, then sucked in his breath. A truck had been +wheeled out of the barn. It had a dish antenna on top. And next to the +truck, a mass of black plastic was slowly inflating. A flying stingaree!</p> + +<p>Rick looked quickly for a spot to which he could swim. Near the edge of +the cut lawn was the piling Scotty had mentioned. It was tall, with a +light on it for night navigation. Rick realized he had seen it on +earlier trips, but had not noticed it particularly because his attention +had been on the house and its occupants. Slightly upstream from the tall +piling were a series of stakes, saplings pushed into the bottom to +indicate the limits of water deep enough for a boat. Around three of the +pilings brush and grass had gathered, picked up from the current. The +middle pile was highest. Rick decided to head for it.</p> + +<p>Scotty was also searching for a hiding place. Apparently he found one +that was satisfactory, because he gripped Rick's shoulder for a moment, +then submerged. Rick saw him as a shadow, hugging the bottom.</p> + +<p>Now was the time. Rick took a deep breath to quiet his taut and shaky +nerves, then sank to the bottom and began the last leg of the trip. It +was only a few dozen yards to the sapling he had chosen. He reached it +and glanced upward. The mass of debris made a black blotch on the bright +surface of the water. Moving with infinite caution and using the sapling +as a guide, he swung his legs under him and rose to a sitting position. +The debris was still above the level of his eyes, so he swung his legs +back again and knelt. The kneeling position brought his head to just the +right level. He lifted his face and looked at the debris. Working +cautiously, he brought a hand up and poked a hole through. His fingers +enlarged the hole until he could see sufficiently.</p> + +<p>The flying stingaree was tugging at the rope that held it! The shape was +almost perfect, Rick thought, but he doubted that it had been designed +to look like a sting ray. More likely it had been picked to look as +little like a conventional balloon as possible. Well, it had served its +purpose.</p> + +<p>Merlin, alias Lefty Camillion, and his electronics wizard were fitting a +rocket into a loop on a plastic strap that dangled from the balloon. +Rick couldn't see it clearly, but thought it was a replica of the one he +had recovered.</p> + +<p>There was sound from the truck containing the dish antenna. Rick pulled +his mask away to hear a little better and heard a loudspeaker, +rebroadcasting something.</p> + +<p>"... reports no aircraft within range limits. We are now at thirty-one +minutes and counting. On my mark the time will be zero minus thirty +exactly."</p> + +<p>There was only the crackle of the loudspeaker. The set was tuned in on +the Wallops Island command frequency, Rick realized. That was how +Camillion and company knew when to release the balloon, and when to +trigger the rocket!</p> + +<p>Camillion's bodyguard was manning the rope holding the balloon. It was +attached to a ring on the truck. As Rick watched, the bodyguard let out +more line and the balloon rose slightly, tugging at the rope, and moving +toward Rick. The tail hung down almost to the ground, the rocket hanging +at an angle at its end.</p> + +<p>The loudspeaker voice said, "Stand by. Mark! Zero minus thirty."</p> + +<p>The bodyguard reached up and cut the rope!</p> + +<p>Rick saw the flying stingaree heading directly toward him, rising +slowly, caught by the ground wind. He brought his spear gun into +position and rose to his full height, snapping off the safety catch. +Oblivious to the yells from the lawn, he aimed and fired. With a sharp +hiss, the spear flashed through the air—into the balloon and right +through it!</p> + +<p>The balloon didn't even falter. It would take time to lose sufficient +gas to bring it down. The wind swept it right toward Rick, still rising. +As it passed over him, the dangling rocket would be almost within reach.</p> + +<p>Rick didn't hesitate. He saw the track of the balloon curving, as the +wind shifted direction downstream over the water. He threw himself to +one side and forward, dropping the spear gun, one hand outstretched. The +rocket slapped into his palm and his fingers closed around it. The jerk +pulled him forward and he grabbed with his other hand, missed, and +grabbed again. This time he caught the rocket, and both hands gripped +tight.</p> + +<p>The flying stingaree lifted him, dragging him through the water. Rick +spun around at the end of the line, and caught a glimpse of the +bodyguard raising a pistol to shoot at him! Then the scene whirled and +he saw Scotty, standing in water to his waist, spear gun lifted to fire.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="illus4" id="illus4"></a> +<img src="images/illus4.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3><i>The flying stingaree lifted him!</i></h3> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Rick saw the spear leave his pal's gun, and he whirled his head in time +to see the bodyguard looking down with horror at the shaft protruding +from his side.</p> + +<p>The boy didn't see the piling. His last quick impression was of the +bodyguard falling forward, then there was a stunning impact as the side +of his head met creosoted wood and darkness flooded in.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h3>Lucky Lefty</h3> + + +<p>Rick awoke to fiery agony. His face was burning, the flames searing his +flesh. He tried to reach a hand up to ease the pain and found the hand +gripped firmly. He struggled, and Steve's voice said, "Take it easy, +Rick. We'll be through in a minute."</p> + +<p>The boy subsided and gritted his teeth. If Steve was there, it was okay. +But why didn't Steve put out the fire?</p> + +<p>"Don't move," Steve said sharply. "I don't want to hurt you any more +than I can help."</p> + +<p>Rick closed his eyes and fought the pain. He heard Steve say, "Give me +the spray can." Then something cool and soothing spread over his face.</p> + +<p>An arm circled his shoulder and raised him to a sitting position. He +opened his eyes and looked into Scotty's worried face. Rick managed a +grin. "It's okay," he said hoarsely.</p> + +<p>"If being alive is okay, then it's okay," Scotty said with relief. "But +you're a mess, boy."</p> + +<p>Rick looked up dazedly. Steve was smiling at him, and next to Steve, +Orvil Harris! "Glad you're all right," the boy murmured.</p> + +<p>"Thanks, Rick. I'm glad you finally came around. You had us worried for +a bit. And, Rick, meet my cousin Link."</p> + +<p>A tall, gaunt man stepped forward. "Howdy, Rick? How do you feel?"</p> + +<p>"Woozy," Rick said honestly. "Help me up, somebody."</p> + +<p>Scotty lifted him, then guided him to a lawn chair. "Sit down. You're +too weak to stand."</p> + +<p>Rick subsided gratefully. He could see better now, although it was +nearly dark. There were other people seated in chairs on the Calvert's +Favor lawn. Camillion, his electronics expert, and two others. At full +length, covered by a blanket, was the guard. He looked up at Rick, his +eyes dull and malevolent, but he said nothing.</p> + +<p>"What happened?" Rick asked.</p> + +<p>Joe Vitalli stood behind Camillion and company, his riot gun ready. The +JANIG agent was wet up to his armpits. Chuck Howard came into sight from +behind Rick, and he carried an open first-aid kit.</p> + +<p>"You jumped for the balloon," Steve reminded him. He motioned to the +bodyguard. "This one tried a pot-shot at you and Scotty nailed him with +a spear. Then you smashed into the piling and got knocked out. The +piling was rough. Your mask was ripped off and your face dragged along +the wood just enough to take the skin off and leave you full of +splinters. We were taking the biggest splinters out when you came to. +How does your face feel?"</p> + +<p>"Awful," Rick said. The soothing effect of the antiseptic spray was +wearing off and the pain was returning. "Where's the balloon?"</p> + +<p>"On the ground behind you. Scotty got to you first, and with his weight +on it, the thing finally came down." The young agent grinned admiringly. +"We had to pry your hands off the rocket. Never saw such a stubborn cuss +in my life. Out cold, and still holding on."</p> + +<p>"Persistent," Rick said weakly. "Not stubborn. Did you round up the +whole gang?"</p> + +<p>"The whole lot."</p> + +<p>Lefty Camillion glared at Rick from a chair on the other side of the +small circle.</p> + +<p>"Why did you do it?" Rick asked. "What did you hope to gain?"</p> + +<p>The syndicate chief shrugged, but kept his silence.</p> + +<p>"I can shed a little light," Steve said. "Some of it is speculation, but +it stands up. Lefty knew his appeal against the deportation order was +almost certain to be turned down. Within a few weeks he'd be on his way +out of the country. The FBI has been trying to get the full dope on +Lefty, and one thing they found was that expensive living had taken most +of his money. He needed cash, in other words. This was the way he chose +to get it, collecting the data transmitted by the research rockets from +Wallops and selling it."</p> + +<p>Rick shook his head, then winced. "It's a crazy idea," he said. "I don't +know why. I just know it is. I could tell you, but I can't seem to +think."</p> + +<p>There were sirens far away, but getting closer. Scotty put a hand on +Rick's shoulder. "Don't try to think now, old buddy. The ambulance is +coming. Plenty of time to talk when you're feeling better."</p> + +<p>Rick nodded weakly. It was getting very dark. He closed his eyes and +leaned back. Scotty kept a hand on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>The ambulance, led by a state trooper, pulled into the grounds. An +attendant and an intern jumped out. "Who's hurt?" the intern asked.</p> + +<p>"This one first," Steve said. "Then the one on the ground."</p> + +<p>Rick felt a hand grip his chin and opened his eyes. The intern was +examining his face with a strong flashlight beam.</p> + +<p>"Messy but superficial," the intern said calmly. "I'll bet it hurts."</p> + +<p>"You win," Rick muttered.</p> + +<p>"How did it happen?"</p> + +<p>Steve described Rick's accident briefly. The intern nodded. He shined +the light into Rick's eyes and watched the pupils contract. "Possible +concussion. We'll check at the hospital." He knelt and took a roll of +cloth from his bag and unwrapped it to disclose hypodermic needles in a +sterile inner wrapper. He fitted a needle to a syringe and found a +bottle of alcohol and a vial of sedative. Working swiftly, he wiped the +vial top and Rick's arm with alcohol, then drew fluid into the syringe. +"This will help the pain," he said, and pressed the needle into Rick's +arm.</p> + +<p>"Now," the doctor said briskly, "let's look at the next one. What +happened to him?"</p> + +<p>"Fish spear in the side," Steve replied.</p> + +<p>Scotty and the attendant helped Rick to the ambulance. He lay down on +the stretcher gratefully and closed his eyes. Scotty stayed with him +while the attendant went to help with the bodyguard.</p> + +<p>"Quite a party," Rick said faintly.</p> + +<p>Scotty covered him with a blanket. "You missed most of it, but I'll give +you the details tomorrow. How are you feeling?"</p> + +<p>"Groggy." Rick's eyes were closed. He was never sure at what point he +drifted off into deep slumber. He knew only that he had no recollection +of the bodyguard being placed next to him or of the ambulance leaving +Calvert's Favor.</p> + +<p>Rick awoke to bright daylight. The pain in his face had subsided to a +faintly aching stiffness and he felt fine. He knew from the surroundings +that he must be in a hospital, probably at Cambridge. He groped for the +call bell and found it wound around the bedpost. He pushed it. In a few +moments a nurse came in.</p> + +<p>"Well," she greeted him, "how are you this morning?"</p> + +<p>"Hungry," Rick replied promptly.</p> + +<p>The nurse, a pleasant-faced woman of middle age, smiled. "That's a good +sign. Let's see what we can do. Ready for visitors?"</p> + +<p>"Send them in," Rick said cheerfully. "Or is it just one?"</p> + +<p>"Two." The nurse went to the door and beckoned. "I'll send in some +breakfast," she said, and left.</p> + +<p>Rick's hand touched his head gingerly. The right side of his face was +bandaged, the pad held in place by tape that crossed his forehead and +circled down under his chin. He probed gently and discovered that the +sorest places were his temple and an area just in front of his ear.</p> + +<p>Steve Ames and Scotty came in and greeted him with wide smiles. "The +nurse says you're hungry," Steve said. "Sounds like the old Rick."</p> + +<p>Scotty asked, "How about crab cakes for breakfast?"</p> + +<p>"Bring 'em on, followed by a dozen steamed clams and an order of +fritters," Rick replied. "How's the bodyguard?"</p> + +<p>"Well enough so his disposition is pretty nasty," Steve reported. "He'll +be here for at least a week before the jail cell opens wide. Seriously, +Rick, are you all right? Apparently there was no concussion."</p> + +<p>"I'm fine," Rick assured him. "But I'll bet this bandage makes me look +like a survivor of Custer's Last Stand."</p> + +<p>Steve and Scotty drew chairs up to the bed. "One last look by the doctor +and we'll take you home," Steve told him. "If you feel up to it."</p> + +<p>"What'll I do for clothes?" Rick asked.</p> + +<p>"They're in your closet," Scotty replied. "We brought them with us. Last +night we took your gear home after the hospital folks peeled you out of +it."</p> + +<p>"Good." Rick looked at his two friends. "Now suppose you tell me what +happened last night? I must have been out like a light while the +excitement was running high."</p> + +<p>Scotty nodded. "I'll start. I was behind one of the pier piles when the +bodyguard cut the balloon loose. I jumped out for a clear shot, but by +then you had put your spear through the thing. I was going to add mine +for good luck when I saw the bodyguard reach for the old equalizer and +draw a bead on you, so I shifted targets. I looked back at you just in +time to see you dangling from the stingaree like an extra tail. And +right then you went boom into the piling. But would Brant ever let go of +evidence? Not you, ol' buddy. There you dangled, limp as a wilted banana +while the balloon drifted along with you. I started toward you as fast +as I could go, which wasn't very fast with water up to my waist."</p> + +<p>"Wish I could have seen it," Rick said with a grin.</p> + +<p>"So do I," Scotty assured him. "Camillion and his friends were also +somewhat interested in you. They started down the lawn, and I was sure +they'd get to you before I could. Only then Joe and Chuck stepped out of +the bushes not ten yards from where I'd been hiding, and yelled to the +lads to hold fast and get their hands high. Steve stepped around the +corner of the barn with a .45 in his mitt and emphasized the point. +Lefty and company got the idea and skidded to a stop with all brakes +locked. I put on more speed, and Steve joined the chase."</p> + +<p>"I didn't see you hit the piling." Steve picked up the story. "But I +heard it. When I saw that the boys had things under control with their +shotguns, I stepped on it and got to you a few seconds after Scotty had +grabbed you by the waist. When I saw your face, I had a few bad moments +until I could take a closer look. You were a bloody mess, to put it +mildly, with more than a few splinters adding color. But I could see +your manly beauty wasn't gone forever. We pried you loose from the +rocket and stretched you out on the lawn. Your pulse was pretty good and +you were breathing steadily, so we gave you a few whiffs of oxygen from +Scotty's tank for good luck."</p> + +<p>Rick could appreciate how worried his friends must have been in spite of +their half-humorous report.</p> + +<p>"Lefty spoke up," Steve continued. "It was the only time he spoke. He's +said nothing since. He said, 'There's a first-aid kit in the kitchen.' +We got it, and went to work on you. Of course we put in a call to the +police, and asked for an ambulance. Joe Vitalli kept a watch on the +crowd and Chuck went into the barn while we pulled splinters out of you. +He found Orvil, and he also found Lincoln Harris."</p> + +<p>"I remember meeting him," Rick nodded. "I was too groggy to be +surprised."</p> + +<p>"He was okay. They hadn't mistreated him. Link said he had gone up the +creek just in time to see them launch a balloon with a rocket on it, and +they got the drop on him with rifles, then grabbed him. His curiosity +got the better of him. He'd heard about the people at Calvert's Favor +and decided to take a look, the waterways being free to all navigators. +Orvil had a bump on his head, but otherwise was all right. Lefty hasn't +talked, but I suspect he had plans for their release, once he was safely +out of the country."</p> + +<p>"Where is Lefty?" Rick asked.</p> + +<p>"He and his friends are in the local jail. You know, Lefty is a chump. +But he's also an excellent example of what happens to people when they +start operating in unfamiliar fields."</p> + +<p>"Why is he a chump?" Rick demanded.</p> + +<p>"Because every bit of data he went to so much trouble to collect was his +for the asking, if he'd only waited until it was processed."</p> + +<p>The light dawned. Rick knew at once what Steve meant. "That's what was +trying to get to the surface in this addled brain of mine last night. Of +course! Wallops Island is an unclassified launch site. Everything about +the launchings is reported in scientific publications! But, Steve, the +Soviet Embassy was interested in buying the stuff!"</p> + +<p>Steve chuckled. "Sure, but not for a very high price, I suspect. The +Reds are so suspicious they can't believe that a country like the United +States can afford to give away data. They'd buy the tapes just to make +sure we weren't holding back information they could use."</p> + +<p>"Even a casual investigation would have told Lefty the data from Wallops +firings is published by scientific publications," Scotty pointed out. +"How could he have been so stupid?"</p> + +<p>"He fell into a natural trap," Steve answered. "Most people think there +is military secrecy connected with rocket firings. They don't make a +distinction between the civilian space agency and the military services. +But the law does. It says the National Aeronautics and Space +Administration is required to report on its scientific findings."</p> + +<p>"And it does," Rick concluded. "Dad has already written a report on the +instruments for measuring solar X rays. The scientists who actually use +the instruments will also write a report on the data they obtained."</p> + +<p>"That's it," Steve agreed. "What's a little more puzzling is why the +electronics expert didn't know. I suspect he has been concerned only +with the design of telemetry equipment and not with any actual +launchings or space experiments."</p> + +<p>"Maybe he did know," Scotty offered. "He might have kept quiet just to +get money from Lefty for doing the work on intercepting the data. You +know we had the clues, but it never occurred to us there might be a +connection between Wallops Island and the stingarees, because who could +imagine going to all that trouble to intercept open, unclassified data +you can get by asking for it?"</p> + +<p>Rick had to laugh. "Whether he knew or not, it's still a joke on Lefty, +and on us for not suspecting the connection. And poor Lefty won't have a +nest egg to take back to Europe with him."</p> + +<p>"He won't need a nest egg," Steve corrected. "Lefty violated the law by +kidnaping Link and Orvil. I don't know whether we can make a federal +espionage rap stick or not, since the data he was collecting was +unclassified. But we'll try. Anyway, he won't be going back to Europe. +He'll end up in a Maryland prison, or a Federal one. Either way, it'll +be some years before he has to worry about money."</p> + +<p>"Lucky Lefty," Rick said. "A cell of his own, plenty of food, and no +worries about money. We did him a favor."</p> + +<p>Steve grinned. "Just don't expect any gratitude for a favor like that!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<h3>Hunt the Wide Waters</h3> + + +<p>The cruising houseboat <i>Spindrift</i> moved sedately across Eastern Bay, +off the main Chesapeake Bay, toward the town of Claiborne. It was a +lovely day with a blue sky dotted with occasional fair-weather clouds. +The temperature was in the low eighties, the wind gentle, and the water +warm.</p> + +<p>Rick Brant sat on the bow of the houseboat, with his feet dangling over. +Next to him sat Jan Miller. His sister Barby, with their mother and +father, were relaxing in deck chairs on the sun deck, while Scotty +piloted the boat.</p> + +<p>Now and then the bow dipped, and the spray splashed up in a cooling +shower. Rick enjoyed the feeling of the cool spray, and the taste of +salt on his tongue. Jan did, too. Rick thought she made quite a picture +with her white bathing suit and golden tan contrasting with her dark +hair. His one regret was that he couldn't swim with Jan, Scotty, and the +family. Both Jan and Barby were expert Scuba divers, and he had looked +forward to spearfishing with them in the bay. The girls had brought +their own Scuba equipment in the luggage compartment of Hartson Brant's +car.</p> + +<p>Rick's bandages had been reduced to a single jumbo-size gauze patch, but +his folks would not allow him to go swimming until his face was entirely +healed. He knew they were right, though he chafed under the restriction. +Even so, swimming was really only a small part of the fun of +houseboating, and the ban on swimming wouldn't last long.</p> + +<p>Jan had put on a fresh bandage for him after breakfast that morning, and +remarked in her soft voice, "It will be completely healed in another day +or two, Rick. You can go swimming then."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, he had found an acceptable substitute. Steve Ames was a +subscriber to <i>Bowhunting Magazine</i>, and in a back issue Rick had found +an article on fishing for sting rays with bow and arrow. Steve had +loaned a bow, and Rick had invested in fishing arrows and a reel for the +bow. So far, he had found only one sting ray, and in his excitement he +had failed to take into account the refraction of the water. He aimed +where the ray seemed to be—but wasn't.</p> + +<p>Rick's pretty, blond sister called down to him. "Rick! There's a sand +bar at the tip of that point."</p> + +<p>He looked to where Barby was pointing and saw a good-sized sand bar +extending out under the water. "I see it, Sis. Thanks. It will be a +while before we get there."</p> + +<p>Jan smiled at him. "Going to try again?"</p> + +<p>"You bet I am. Got to catch up with you somehow."</p> + +<p>Jan had bagged a ten-pound rockfish underwater on the day before, and +they had baked it in a driftwood fire on a beach at Poplar Island. Rick +was as proud as though the catch had been his own. He had been Jan's +diving instructor and had taught her how to stalk a fish.</p> + +<p>"You can catch up day after tomorrow when the folks will let you dive," +Jan assured him.</p> + +<p>"Can't wait that long," Rick replied. "I'm going to find a fifty-pound +ray right now."</p> + +<p>"Go get your bow," Jan said. "I'll join the others and we'll all spot +for you."</p> + +<p>Rick got to his feet and gave Jan a hand up. He went down the catwalk to +the cabin while she went up the ladder to the top deck.</p> + +<p>The bow was in the closet. Rick checked the string, then strung the bow +and selected two arrows. He went out on deck and stopped at Scotty's +side. "Looks like a good place. Cruise slow and easy and be ready to +maneuver. If there's a ray there, I want it."</p> + +<p>"Okay. Go for broke, Robin Hood. What I can't understand is why you +don't shoot for something edible."</p> + +<p>"Can't," Rick said cheerfully. "Edible-type fish don't hang around +waiting for boats to bring bowmen close."</p> + +<p>He climbed the rear ladder to the upper deck and joined his family. +Hartson Brant smiled at his son. "Next time we let you go off by +yourself don't get involved in mysteries. Then you won't have to bowhunt +inedible sea animals."</p> + +<p>"It's fun," Rick returned. "I'd want to do it even if I could spear +fish. Want to take a shot?"</p> + +<p>"I'll take a shot after you've boated your first ray."</p> + +<p>"Fair enough," Rick agreed.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brant asked, "Where are we going, Rick?"</p> + +<p>He pointed to the peninsula. "Around that land. There's a creek on the +other side called Tilghman Creek. The cruising guide says there's a good +anchorage just inside. If it looks all right, well spend the night +there. If not, we'll go across to the Wye River. Tomorrow we'll go down +the Miles River to the town of St. Michaels and put in supplies."</p> + +<p>The scientist smiled at his wife. "It's nice to relax and have our +children do the work and the thinking, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"It's too good to last," Mrs. Brant returned.</p> + +<p>Barby and Jan were standing far forward, close to where the cabin top +curved downward to the forward deck. Rick joined them.</p> + +<p>"This is fun!" Barby exclaimed. "Rick this houseboat was the best idea +you ever had!"</p> + +<p>"We all should have traveled down together," Jan said. "Then the whole +family could have been in on the case of the flying stingaree."</p> + +<p>"That will be the day," Barby replied. "When Rick Brant lets us in on +any real adventures, I'll know the world is coming to an end." Her tone +changed suddenly. "Look, we're getting into shallow water. Keep a sharp +lookout!"</p> + +<p>Rick went down the ladder to the foredeck and tied his arrowhead to the +fish line wound in the reel on his bow. He nocked the arrow and got +ready to shoot. He looked up at the two pretty girls standing above him. +"Let out a yell if you see a dark blot."</p> + +<p>Barby gave him a scornful look. "Of course we'll yell. Did you think we +were standing here waiting for flying saucers to land?"</p> + +<p>The houseboat plowed through a patch of sea grass and emerged over sandy +bottom. Rick kept careful watch, but he knew the girls would see the +first sign of a ray before he did, because of their higher vantage +point.</p> + +<p>Steve would enjoy this, he thought. The JANIG agent was back in +Washington, his vacation interrupted again because of the work that +remained on the case of Lefty Camillion. Lefty was in jail, too, along +with his friends.</p> + +<p>Rick shook his head. He was still amazed at the mobster's stupidity in +creating such an elaborate setup to get data that was his for the +asking. Apparently it just hadn't occurred to Lefty that a rocket range +could be without secrets.</p> + +<p>If there <i>had</i> been secrets, though, the system was a good one. By using +the combination of a balloon and a rocket, Lefty got his equipment high +enough to intercept Wallops Island telemetry, and he did it without +anyone suspecting he was launching rockets. The rockets and balloons +dropped into the ocean, unseen—or, if seen, the first thought would be +that they had come from Wallops. The shape of the balloons also kept +anyone from suspecting that the theft of data was the real purpose. It +was a fine scheme, even though it had all been unnecessary.</p> + +<p>The girls let out a yell that startled Rick from his reverie. Scotty +immediately throttled back, and the boat's momentum carried it forward. +Rick watched the water, and finally saw a dark blur on the sandy bottom +ahead and to the left. He drew, then waited until he saw the dark patch +move. This time he allowed for the water's refraction. He loosed the +arrow.</p> + +<p>The stingaree felt the impact and reacted violently. Its tail lashed up +to strike with sharp barbs at the intruder. The tail lashed the arrow +shaft without effect. The ray's wings moved in a rippling motion like +that of some weird flying carpet. It flashed upward, and into the air, +then crashed back on the surface of the water again. It dived, heading +for the bottom.</p> + +<p>Rick kept the drag on his reel, letting the ray fight against the +braking action. The fish didn't give up easily. It had the primitive +nervous system and great vitality of its relatives, the sharks, and it +fought long after an edible fish, like a rockfish, would have given up.</p> + +<p>When the ray moved toward the now stationary boat, Rick reeled in line. +When the ray showed a new burst of energy and started away, Rick let it +fight against the drag, pulling out line.</p> + +<p>The girls were down on the foredeck with him now, and Scotty had joined +the Brants on the upper deck in order to get a better view of the fight.</p> + +<p>Finally, the ray tired. Rick drew it in close to the hull and waited +while the vicious tail lashed futilely. Jan took the gaff that Scotty +handed down to her and gave it to Rick. He hooked the sea beast and +lifted it from the water.</p> + +<p>"Stand clear!" he warned. "I don't want either of you getting hit with +that tail!"</p> + +<p>The girls hurried up the ladder to safety, and Rick lifted the stingaree +to the deck.</p> + +<p>It was a small one, weighing about fifteen pounds. The wet, leathery +body glistened, and the kite-shaped wings flapped like those of some +fantastic bird.</p> + +<p>Scotty looked down at the ray. "You caught a cripple," he said. "There's +something wrong with it."</p> + +<p>Rick looked up. He knew the answer, but he asked the question anyway, +grinning. "Yes? What's wrong with it?"</p> + +<p>"It can't fly," Scotty said.</p> + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> + +<h2><a name="RICK_BRANT_SCIENCE_STORIES" id="RICK_BRANT_SCIENCE_STORIES"></a>RICK BRANT SCIENCE STORIES</h2> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus1.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + + + +<p>Rick Brant is the boy who with his pal Scotty lives on an island called +Spindrift and takes part in so many thrilling adventures and baffling +mysteries involving science and electronics. You can share every one of +these adventures in the pages of Rick's books. They are available at +your book store in handsome, low-priced editions.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">THE ROCKET'S SHADOW<br /></span> +<span class="i0">THE LOST CITY<br /></span> +<span class="i0">SEA GOLD<br /></span> +<span class="i0">100 FATHOMS UNDER<br /></span> +<span class="i0">THE WHISPERING BOX MYSTERY<br /></span> +<span class="i0">THE PHANTOM SHARK<br /></span> +<span class="i0">SMUGGLERS' REEF<br /></span> +<span class="i0">THE CAVES OF FEAR<br /></span> +<span class="i0">STAIRWAY TO DANGER<br /></span> +<span class="i0">THE GOLDEN SKULL<br /></span> +<span class="i0">THE WAILING OCTOPUS<br /></span> +<span class="i0">THE ELECTRONIC MIND READER<br /></span> +<span class="i0">THE SCARLET LAKE MYSTERY<br /></span> +<span class="i0">THE PIRATES OF SHAN<br /></span> +<span class="i0">THE BLUE GHOST MYSTERY<br /></span> +<span class="i0">THE EGYPTIAN CAT MYSTERY<br /></span> +<span class="i0">THE FLAMING MOUNTAIN<br /></span> +<span class="i0">THE FLYING STINGAREE<br /></span> +<span class="i0">THE RUBY RAY MYSTERY<br /></span> +<span class="i0">THE VEILED RAIDERS<br /></span> +<span class="i0">RICK BRANT'S SCIENCE PROJECTS<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 30401 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/30401-h/images/cover.jpg b/30401-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..99bf4e7 --- /dev/null +++ b/30401-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/30401-h/images/frontis1.jpg b/30401-h/images/frontis1.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0c6cf9a --- /dev/null +++ b/30401-h/images/frontis1.jpg diff --git a/30401-h/images/frontis2.jpg b/30401-h/images/frontis2.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..16b4e42 --- /dev/null +++ b/30401-h/images/frontis2.jpg diff --git a/30401-h/images/illus1.jpg b/30401-h/images/illus1.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..be5e329 --- /dev/null +++ b/30401-h/images/illus1.jpg diff --git a/30401-h/images/illus2.jpg b/30401-h/images/illus2.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1ba4fe6 --- /dev/null +++ b/30401-h/images/illus2.jpg diff --git a/30401-h/images/illus3.jpg b/30401-h/images/illus3.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d3be09e --- /dev/null +++ b/30401-h/images/illus3.jpg diff --git a/30401-h/images/illus4.jpg b/30401-h/images/illus4.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b8a98b7 --- /dev/null +++ b/30401-h/images/illus4.jpg diff --git a/30401-h/images/illus5.jpg b/30401-h/images/illus5.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..fd13ecb --- /dev/null +++ b/30401-h/images/illus5.jpg diff --git a/30401-h/images/illus56.jpg b/30401-h/images/illus56.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..53ddaa2 --- /dev/null +++ b/30401-h/images/illus56.jpg diff --git a/30401-h/images/illus6.jpg b/30401-h/images/illus6.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..67f577e --- /dev/null +++ b/30401-h/images/illus6.jpg diff --git a/30401-h/images/illus7.jpg b/30401-h/images/illus7.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..7f8e6e1 --- /dev/null +++ b/30401-h/images/illus7.jpg diff --git a/30401-h/images/illus78.jpg b/30401-h/images/illus78.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d9b8c26 --- /dev/null +++ b/30401-h/images/illus78.jpg diff --git a/30401-h/images/illus8.jpg b/30401-h/images/illus8.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..45e8918 --- /dev/null +++ b/30401-h/images/illus8.jpg diff --git a/30401.txt b/30401.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ca60416 --- /dev/null +++ b/30401.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5842 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Flying Stingaree, by Harold Leland Goodwin + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Flying Stingaree + +Author: Harold Leland Goodwin + +Release Date: November 3, 2009 [EBook #30401] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FLYING STINGAREE *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + THE FLYING STINGAREE + + BY JOHN BLAINE + + A RICK BRANT SCIENCE-ADVENTURE STORY + + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS +NEW 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 evidence +that 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 is +the eerie riddle which confronts Rick Brant and his friend Don Scott +when, seeking shelter from a storm, they anchor the houseboat +_Spindrift_ in a lonely cove along the Maryland shore and spot the +flying stingaree. + +The "thing," they learn, is not the only one of its kind--one is +actually suspected of having kidnaped a man! + +The residents of the Eastern Shore of Maryland believe the strange +objects are flying saucers, but, weary of ridicule, have ceased +reporting the sightings. + +Rick and Scotty, their scientific curiosity aroused, begin a +comprehensive investigation, encouraged by their friend Steve Ames, a +young government intelligence agent, whose summer cottage is near the +cove. + +As the clues mount up, the trail leads to Calvert's Favor, a historic +plantation house--and to the very bottom of Chesapeake Bay. How Rick and +Scotty, at the risk of their lives, ground the eerie menace forever +makes a tale of high-voltage suspense. + + + + +[Illustration: _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 was +food, but his position--had he known it--was in the channel that runs +between Poplar Island and the town of Wittman on the Eastern Shore of +Maryland. The ray was also directly in the path of an odd-looking +cruising houseboat, the _Spindrift_, that had just rounded the north +point of Poplar Island and entered the channel. + +The sting ray's color was an olive brown, so dark in tone that he looked +like wet black leather. He was roughly diamond-shaped, like a kite, with +rounded sides. He had a long, slim tail that carried vicious barbs along +the base of its upper side. It was from the barbs, which served as +defensive weapons, that the name sting ray, or stingaree, derived. The +ray was harmless to men--unless one chanced to step on him as he lay +resting 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 gleaming +surface, his churning legs making a slight disturbance. The ray sensed +the small vibrations and instantly changed course, speeding through the +water like a fantastic spaceship of the future. Intent on the crab, the +ray ignored the stronger vibrations caused by a pair of outboard motors +and a long, flat-bottomed hull. Not until the crab was within reach did +the ray sense imminent danger. With a single flashing movement, he +snatched the crab and flung himself upward through the shining surface +and into the air. + +Rick Brant, at the helm of the cruising houseboat, saw the ray break +water and he let out a yell. "Scotty! Look!" + +Don Scott, asleep at full length on the houseboat's sun deck, which was +also its cabin top, awoke in time to see the dark shape reenter the calm +water. "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 eastern +land and water birds, regional fish and reptiles, rested on the cabin +top before him, along with a pair of binoculars. He had used them all +repeatedly, identifying eagles, wild swans, ospreys, wild duck and +geese, terrapin, snapping turtles and water snakes, as well as a horde +of lesser creatures. Trailing lines over the houseboat stern had +captured striped sea bass, called "rockfish" locally, a species of +drumfish called "spot" because of a black spot on the gills, pink +croakers that the Marylanders called "hardheads," and the blue crabs for +which the bay is famous. He had seen clam dredges bringing up bushels of +soft-shelled, long-necked clams that the dredgers called "manos," and he +had seen the famous Maryland "bugeyes" and "skip-jacks"--sailing craft +used for dredging oysters. The boats were not operated during the oyster +breeding season from the end of March until September. + +Rick's interest in the life of the great bay was to be expected. As son +of the director of the world-famous Spindrift Scientific Foundation, +located on Spindrift Island off the coast of New Jersey, he had been +brought up among scientists. The habit of observation had developed +along with his natural--and insatiable--curiosity. + +The tall, slim, brown-haired, brown-eyed boy was completely happy. He +enjoyed casual living, especially on the water, and life on the +_Spindrift_ couldn't have been more casual. He was dressed in a tattered +pair of shorts and a wristwatch. Once, in the cool of the evening, he +had slipped on a sweat shirt. Otherwise, the shorts had been his sole +attire while on board since leaving his home island a few days before. + +Scotty, a husky, dark-haired boy clad only in red swimming trunks, came +down 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 we +are? Last thing I remember, we were passing under the Bay Bridge off +Annapolis." + +"That's Bloody Point Lighthouse behind us," Rick said. "Poplar Island is +on the starboard and the Eastern Shore to port. That black thing +sticking up ahead of us is a light buoy. When we reach it, we should be +able to see the range markers into Knapps Narrows." + +Scotty checked the chart on the table hinged to the bulkhead formed by +the rear cabin wall. "What time is it?" + +Rick glanced at his watch. "Five after six. Time for chow. Want to +rustle up something? Or shall we eat at Knapps Narrows? The cruising +guide says there's a restaurant there." + +"Let's eat out," Scotty replied promptly. "I'm sick of my cooking--and +yours. I'd like some Maryland crab cakes like those we had in Chesapeake +City." + +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 before +reaching Steve's. I don't want to tackle these Chesapeake backwaters at +night." + +The destination of the houseboat was the summer cottage of Rick's old +friend, Steve Ames, who was also a chief agent of JANIG, the top-secret +Federal 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 ownership +of the houseboat, which had been named for Rick's home island on the +grounds that it was now his "home away from home." + +Rick's first glimpse of the houseboat had been from the air. At the +request of Steve Ames, he, Scotty, his sister Barby, and Jan Miller, +daughter of one of the Spindrift physicists, had been searching the +coast of New Jersey for signs of strangers in the area. Barby had +spotted the houseboat, which at that time was painted a bright orange. +Later, the houseboat had played a major role in the adventure of _The +Electronic Mind Reader_, and Rick had fought for his life and the safety +of the two girls in the very cabin behind which he now stood. The +houseboat had been impounded by Federal authorities, and recently Steve +had mentioned to Rick that it was to be auctioned. After consulting with +his family, Rick had entered a bid for the boat. His bid had been the +only 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 his +own money, and the houseboat was no exception. Like his first plane, the +Cub, he expected the houseboat to pay its own way. Rick had recovered +his investment in the Cub by using it to operate Spindrift Island's +ferry service to the mainland. Rick flew the scientists to Newark +Airport when they had to catch planes, or he flew to Whiteside for +groceries, or into New York to pick up parts and supplies. The houseboat +could not be used in the same way, but he was sure he could get its +price back by renting it to summer visitors to the New Jersey area. He +had repainted it in two shades of green with a white top, and had made a +few other improvements. + +Before renting the boat, however, he intended to have an extended +houseboat vacation. He and Scotty had left Spindrift Island, headed +south into Manasquan Inlet, and then sailed into the inland waterway. By +easy stages--the houseboat could make only ten miles an hour--they had +moved 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's +summer cottage. + +Rick's parents, with Barby and Jan, were now on their way to Wallops +Island rocket range operated by the National Aeronautics and Space +Administration. Hartson Brant had business there in connection with +instruments the Spindrift group of scientists had designed for measuring +solar X rays. The instruments would be launched in rockets. Wallops +Island was near Chincoteague, Virginia, just across the +Maryland-Virginia border on the long peninsula called "The Eastern +Shore" 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 to +Steve's, where the Brants and the two girls would join Rick and Scotty +for 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 the +galley, dinette, and bath were located. Steve had agreed to drive the +Brant car to Spindrift on his next trip to New York. The houseboat, with +the full clan aboard, would travel leisurely back to the home island. + +Rick was delighted with the arrangements. The Brants--and that included +Scotty, who had become one of them after his discharge from the United +States Marine Corps--were a close-knit family whose members enjoyed +doing things together. Rick considered Jan Miller, Barby's dearest +friend, a welcome addition to the party. + +"Range light ahead," Scotty said. + +Rick nodded. The light was set atop a black piling. The color meant he +would have to pass it to port, then pick up the red beacon at the +entrance to the Narrows, passing the red beacon to starboard. This was +in accordance with the old sailors' rule: _red right returning_, which +means keep red markers and buoys on the starboard, or right, when +returning from seaward. It was fun navigating in strange waters. He had +never 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, rounded +like the front of a toboggan, slapped into a slight swell. Rick passed +the range light and headed for the red tower that marked the opening of +the Narrows. In a few moments they were in the Narrows, passing lines of +docked crab, oyster, and clam boats. There was a bridge ahead, with a +gasoline dock in its shadow. Rick gauged wind and current and decided +how 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 us +facing 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 nose +of the houseboat against the seawall as Scotty stepped ashore carrying +the bowline. He snubbed it tightly around a piling and held fast while +the ungainly boat swung with the current. Rick stepped to the seawall +with the stern line as the craft swung completely around, and the boys +made the boat fast. + +"Now," Scotty said, "let's gas up and eat." + +After filling the gas tanks, loading the icebox with fresh ice, and +topping off the water tank, the boys slipped into shirts, slacks, and +shoes, then headed for the restaurant that adjoined the dock. Over +delicious, spicy Maryland crab cakes and coffee, they talked with the +proprietor, a friendly, heavy-set Eastern Shore man who spoke with the +typical 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 saucers +around here?" he asked whimsically. + +"A few." + +The boys stared. + +The man smiled at the reaction. "Didn't expect that? It's true. We see +one now and again." + +"Really?" Rick asked. + +"Sure as geese fly. Don't know that they're really flyin' saucers like +we read about in the Washington and Baltimore papers--we get both--but +they're somethin' strange. Not natural, anyway." + +The boys looked at each other. There was no doubt that the proprietor +believed what he was saying. He was as casual as though reporting a +catch 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 a +few lines. But the way the stories got written, you'd think us Eastern +Shore 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 are +located right here at the Narrows, and they reported to Baltimore. +Nothin' happened. The authorities aren't sold on flyin' saucers, you +might say. I guess the last report was when Link Harris was kidnaped by +one." + +Rick's scalp prickled. "You honestly mean someone was kidnaped by a +flying saucer?" + +"It's the only thing we can think of. Link went out to set his crab +lines, like always, and never came home. We set out to find him, and we +found his boat all right, but no Link. One of the saucers was seen by +several folks, and they said later it seemed right over where he was +workin' 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 these +waters. Water was smooth. Not a ripple, even out on the bay. Even if he +fell 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. Shore +wasn'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 a +flying 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. It +was clear he didn't particularly care whether they were convinced or +not. He was making conversation just to be sociable. "Where Link was +settin' lines is just a little creek with marsh all around. No man with +any sense would get out of a boat and go ashore into marshland, now +would he? Besides, there's no reason Link would want to disappear. He +lived all alone and did about what he pleased. Crabs netted him enough +money 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 they +got 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 the +north, about three miles closer to the river mouth. You'll pass it on +the way. Better keep an eye open. That boat of yours might attract +flyin' saucers the way a decoy attracts ducks." + +Rick saw the twinkle in the proprietor's eye. "We'll set a bear trap on +the upper deck," he said. "Any flying saucer tries to pick us up, the +pilot will catch one of his six legs in it." + +"Likely," the man agreed. "You catch one, bring it to the Narrows, will +you? Always wanted to see one at close range." + +"We'll do that," Rick agreed, and no premonition or hunch warned him how +close he and Scotty would come to carrying out the promise. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +The Flying Stingaree + + +Someone once said that the Chesapeake Bay "looks like the deck plan of +an octopus," but the mental image created by the phrase tells but a +fraction of the story. Rivers and creeks empty into the bay by the +dozens, and every river, and most of the creeks, have tributaries. Even +some of the tributaries have tributaries. The result is thousands of +miles of navigable waters, forming a maze of waterways that it would +take most of a lifetime of weekend cruising to explore. + +The cruising houseboat _Spindrift_ moved steadily across the mouth of +one of the principal waterways of the Eastern Shore, the Choptank River. +It was a good three miles across the river's mouth, and Rick occupied +the time by reading aloud to Scotty, who was piloting. + +"'The Choptank River is navigable for large ships to the city of +Cambridge, a principal Eastern Shore port. Yachts will find the river +navigable for twenty miles beyond Cambridge, depending on their draft, +while boats of shallow draft can cruise all the way into the State of +Delaware.'" Rick paused in his reading and looked up. "Be fun to go up +one of these rivers to the source, wouldn't it?" + +"Maybe we can," Scotty replied. "Read on." + +"'The name Choptank comes from the Choptank Indians who lived in the +area until the middle of the nineteenth century. These Indians were +first discovered by Captain John Smith when he sailed into Chesapeake +Bay in search of a location for what later became the Jamestown +Colony.'" + +"We're sailing through history," Scotty commented. "And we'd better step +on it." He pushed the throttles forward. The houseboat accelerated to +its top speed of about twelve miles an hour. + +"What's up?" Rick demanded. + +"Look to the southwest. That must be one of those Chesapeake Bay squalls +the book warns about." + +There was a black line of clouds some distance away, but Rick could see +that the squall line was moving fast, crossing the bay in their +direction. He swung the chart table up and studied the situation. They +were close to the south shore of the Choptank River now, and the chart +showed no easily accessible place of shelter in the vicinity. They would +have to run for the Little Choptank, the next river to the south. The +chart showed several creeks off the Little Choptank. They could duck +into the one nearest the river mouth. + +"Can we ride it out if we have to?" Rick asked. + +Scotty grinned. "We'll find out, if we have to. But I'd rather not be in +open water when a squall hits this barge. It's not built for storms. +Keep your fingers crossed and hope we get to cover before it hits." + +"I hear you talking. I'm going to do a little research." Rick ducked +into the cabin and took the tide tables from the bookshelf. Back on +deck, he leafed through the official publication and found that the +nearest point for tidal data was the Choptank River Light, only a few +miles away and clearly visible. High and low tides at the light were +about three hours and fifteen minutes earlier than Baltimore, the data +station for the area. Rick checked Baltimore data for the date, +subtracted quickly, and glanced at his watch. + +"High tide in about a half hour. The chart shows three feet near shore +at mean low water. High tide will bring it up to four and a half at the +very least. That's plenty for this barge. Get inshore and cut corners. +We won't have to stick to the channel." + +Scotty swung the wheel instantly, and the houseboat took a new course, +leading them closer to shore. "Better keep an eye out for logs or +pilings," Scotty warned. "No rocks in the area, so we don't have to +worry about shoals." + +The wooded shore slid by, the trees gradually giving way to low scrub +and marsh grass as they neared the mouth of the Little Choptank. Rick +alternately kept an eye out ahead and checked their position on the +chart. They were in about five feet of water, more than enough for the +shallow-draft houseboat. His principal worry was the outboard +propellers. He didn't want to break one on a log that might be sticking +up underwater. + +The squall was closer now, and the sky was growing dark. Rick estimated +that they had no more than ten minutes before the storm would hit. He +had to look up at a sharp angle to see the storm front. Visibility was +down to zero directly under it. Whitecaps and a roiling sea told him +there was plenty of wind in the squall. He doubted that the houseboat +could head into it successfully. The wind would catch the high cabin +sides and force the houseboat onto the shore. + +Scotty swung around the northern tip of land that marked the mouth of +the Little Choptank. "We won't make it," he said, glancing at the chart. + +Rick nodded. "But the wind will be behind us. We can drive right into +the mouth of the nearest creek. According to the chart, there's a cove +just inside the mouth where we ought to be out of the wind." He put his +finger on the place, and suddenly a chill ran through him. The nearest +safe harbor was Swamp Creek, where Link Harris had vanished! + +There wasn't time to talk about it. He would have to be prepared to drop +the anchor quickly. "I'm going up on the bow," he said. "Once into the +creek, turn as hard as you can into the wind, then cut the power. I'll +heave the anchor over and the wind pressure on the boat can set it. But +keep the motors turning over in case it doesn't hold." + +"Got it," Scotty agreed. + +Rick stepped out of the cockpit onto the catwalk. The cabin top was just +chest-high, and he could hold on by grabbing the safety rails that ran +along the sides of the large sun deck. He moved swiftly along the walk +to the foredeck, a small semicircular deck used primarily for docking +and anchoring. The anchor line was coiled on a hook on the curving front +of the cabin, and the patent anchor was stowed on the deck itself. Rick +took the coil and faked down the line in smooth figure eights so it +would run out without fouling, then made sure the anchor was free and +ready to go. + +When Rick stood up and looked down the length of the cabin top at +Scotty, he saw that the squall was almost on them. The turbulent cloud +front was directly overhead. He saw the wind line, marked by turbulent +water, move swiftly toward the houseboat. The _Spindrift_ rocked as +though shaken by a giant hand, and its speed picked up appreciably. The +houseboat began to pitch as the chop built up around it. Visibility +dropped suddenly; it was almost dark. Rick winced as large, hard-driven +raindrops lashed into his face, then he turned his back to the storm and +stared ahead. + +The creek mouth was in sight. He pointed to it for Scotty's benefit, but +when he turned to look at his pal, the driving rain slashed into his +eyes and made him look away. + +Scotty had seen the creek mouth. Staying as close to shore as he dared, +Scotty drove the houseboat to within fifty yards of the narrow mouth, +then swung the helm hard. The wind, which had been astern, was now abeam +and its force was acting on the high side of the boat. The houseboat +slewed sideways, and for a moment Rick thought they would be driven on +to the upstream bank of the creek. But Scotty had judged his distance +and wind pressure well. The boat shot into the creek mouth with feet to +spare. + +The cove opened up ahead. Scotty reversed one motor and the houseboat +turned almost in its own length. Rick watched the shore through +squinting eyes, and the moment he saw the boat's forward motion cease, +he dropped the big anchor over. The wind caught the houseboat again and +drove it backward into the cove while the anchor line ran out. When he +had enough line out for safety, Rick snubbed it tight around a cleat, +held the taut line between thumb and forefinger until he was sure it had +none of the vibrations caused by a dragging anchor, and then hurried +back along the catwalk to the cockpit. He and Scotty ran from the +rainswept deck down the two steps into the cabin. + +For a moment the two stood grinning at each other and listening to the +heavy drumming of the rain on the cabin top, then Rick spoke. "We'd +better get out of these wet clothes so we can sit down. This may last +for an hour or so." + +Scotty agreed. "First one into dry shorts makes the coffee." + +"That's me," Rick said. He stripped off the soaking clothes, toweled +quickly, and put on dry shorts. The rain had chilled the air, so he +reached into the drawer under the amidships bunks, took out a sweat +shirt, and pulled it over his head. It felt good. + +Scotty had taken time to dry off the books and binoculars he had brought +from the deck before he changed his own clothes. By the time he was +dressed in dry shorts and sweater, Rick had the alcohol stove going and +water heating for coffee. + +"Know where we are?" Rick asked casually. + +"Sure. We're--" Scotty stopped. "For Pete's sake! I didn't make the +connection at first. We're in Swamp Creek, where that man got snatched +by a flying saucer!" + +"Right. Worried?" + +Scotty grinned. "Any flying saucer that can navigate in this weather is +welcome to what it gets. How's the anchor?" + +"Holding," Rick said. "I hope." He looked out the galley window and +watched the shore. It changed position as the boat moved, but that was +only because the houseboat was swinging at anchor. "Seems all right," he +added. + +Ten minutes later coffee was ready. The boys sat at the dinette table +and sipped with relish, listening to the storm outside. It seemed to be +increasing in intensity. + +"Picking up," Scotty said. "The guidebook wasn't kidding when it said +'sudden and severe summer storms lash the bay.'" + +"Wonder how long they last?" Rick asked. + +"Hard to say. Perhaps an hour." + +The houseboat jerked suddenly. Rick jumped to his feet. "Did you feel +that?" + +The boat heeled under the lash of wind. Rick peeled off his sweat shirt. +"Feels as though the anchor dragged a little. I'm going out and let out +more scope. We can't take a chance of drifting in this wind." + +"I'll go," Scotty offered. + +"No. I put the anchor down. It's my fault if it slips. Stand by." + +Rick pulled the cabin door open and winced at the blast of raindrops, +like heavy buckshot on his face and body. For a moment he hesitated, +then realized the sooner he got it over with, the better. He hurried to +the catwalk and swung down it, meanwhile estimating his distances. He +could let out another fifty feet of anchor line without getting the boat +too near shore. The more anchor line out, the better the anchor could +hold. + +He made the forward deck and looked around, realizing that the wind +direction had changed and that the blast was now coming down the creek, +swinging the houseboat around. That probably was why the anchor had +shifted. He knelt and took the line in his fingers. It no longer seemed +to be slipping, but it was better not to take a chance. He unloosed the +half hitches that held it to the cleat, threw off all but one +figure-eight turn, and let the anchor line run out slowly. When he +estimated about fifty feet had run through, he put on more figure eights +around the cleat, then dropped half hitches over to secure the line. +Once more he reached out and held the taut line. It didn't seem to be +slipping. He pulled on it hard, and felt the boat move. The anchor was +in solidly this time. + +Rick turned and started back to the catwalk, rain lashing his back. +Sudden instinct made him whirl around in time to see something huge and +black rushing at him out of the storm. Rain blurred his vision. He had a +swift impression of a black figure, shaped like a diamond, coming at +him. He threw himself flat on the foredeck. There was a rustling sound +overhead, and something clanged off the cabin top's aluminum rail. Rick +was on his feet again. Heart pounding, he looked around. There was +nothing but rain and wind. He stood upright and looked across the cabin +top. For an instant he glimpsed a black object above the canopy over the +rear cockpit, then that, too, was lost in the rain. + +Shaken, Rick made his way back to the cabin, entered, closed the door, +and leaned against it. Scotty looked up, and was on his feet in an +instant. + +[Illustration (2 page 29 and 30)] + +"Rick! What happened? You're white as a sheet!" he exclaimed. + +"Saw one," Rick managed. He was still shaking. "It went right over the +boat. I think it hit the upper rail. We'll check later. But it wasn't a +flying saucer. I'm sure of that." + +"What was it?" Scotty demanded. + +"A flying stingaree!" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +Orvil Harris, Crabber + + +Rick Brant awoke to the sound of a motor. For a moment he lay quietly in +his bunk, listening. The sun through the cabin windows told him it was +early in the morning. The sunlight still had the red quality of early +sunrise. He watched the light shift as the houseboat swung on its +anchor. + +By the time the storm last night had ended, darkness had set in, and it +was only sensible to turn on the anchor light and remain in the Swamp +Creek cove for the night. In spite of his unsettling experience, Rick +and Scotty had not been deeply disturbed. Neither he nor Scotty believed +in flying saucers--at least, not in saucers that kidnaped people, and +the object Rick had seen had not been saucer-like. It had been shaped +like a stingaree. + +Stingarees don't fly. + +Rick smiled to himself. During another vacation, skin diving in the +Virgin Islands, he and Scotty had proved that octopuses don't wail. But +if stingarees don't fly, he asked himself, what looks like a stingaree +and _does_ fly? + +He realized suddenly that the sound of the motor was louder once again. +Someone investigating the houseboat? He swung out of bed. The cool air +of morning was in sharp contrast to the warmth of his sleeping bag. +Quickly he slipped into shorts and sweat shirt. As he opened the cabin +door, he heard the slap of bare feet on the deck behind him and turned +to see Scotty regain his balance after dropping from the upper bunk. + +"Go ahead," Scotty called. "Be right with you." + +"Okay." Rick stepped out into the cockpit and glanced around. It was a +lovely morning. The ever-present birds of the Chesapeake area were +already active. A huge blue heron stepped daintily in the shallows like +a stilt walker afraid of falling over. The heron was looking for small +fish or anything that moved and was edible. An osprey, the great fish +hawk of the bay region, swooped overhead on lazy wings, sharp eyes alert +for small fish near the water's surface. In the pine woods behind the +shore marsh, a bluejay called, its voice like a squeaky hinge. + +The motor sound was distant now, and the shore upstream blocked Rick's +view. Then, as he watched, a long, low, white motorboat came into sight. +Its bow was vertical, its sides low. There was no cabin. Amidships was a +single man, clad in overalls and a denim shirt. The man was surrounded +by bushel baskets, and he held a long-handled crab net made of chicken +wire. + +Rick watched with interest. On one side of the boat was a roller that +extended out over the water. A heavy cord came out of the water, crossed +the roller, and dipped back into the water again. Every few feet there +was a chunk of something on the cord, apparently bait. As Rick watched, +a piece of bait came up with a crab clinging to it. The net swooped and +the crab was caught, pulled inboard, and dumped into a bushel basket +with one fluid motion. The crabber never took his eyes from the cord. +The boat continued in a straight line. + +Scotty came out on deck and joined Rick. The boys watched in silence +while the man caught a dozen crabs, then picked one from the bait and +flipped it into the water. + +"Too small, I guess," Rick commented. + +"Must be. Where does the line go?" + +Rick pointed. A gallon oilcan, painted blue and white, bobbed gently in +the creek. "That's where he's heading." + +The crabber approached the can, then flipped the line off the roller. +Using a lever next to him, he turned the boat and headed toward another +can some distance away. A quick pull with a boat hook and the line +attached to the can was placed over the roller. Crabs appeared, holding +onto the bait as the boat moved along the new line. Rick counted. The +crabber was getting about one crab for every three baits. + +Scotty leaned over the cockpit rail. "There's the end of his line, over +near shore. He'll pass close to us." + +"That's why the motor sounded loud," Rick guessed. "He moves from one +line to another. Last time he came by the boat he woke me up." + +"Same here." Scotty nodded. + +The crabber moved methodically, his boat proceeding at a steady pace +toward the houseboat. As he came abreast, he called, "Mornin'." + +The boys returned the greeting. + +"Looks like a good catch," Scotty called. + +"Fair. Only fair." The crabber scooped up a huge blue crab from almost +under their noses and went on his way. + +"If it's only fair now, what must it be like when it's good?" Rick asked +with a grin. + +"Two crabs on every hunk of bait," Scotty said. "You count crabs and +I'll make coffee." + +"That's my boy," Rick said approvingly. + +Scotty went into the cabin and left Rick watching the crabber. Rick +tried to figure out all the details. After a short time he concluded +that the floats were attached to anchors of some kind. The anchors kept +the crab line on the bottom, except when it was running over the roller. +He also saw that there were no hooks or other gadgets. The crabs were +caught simply because they refused to let go of the bait. + +The aroma of coffee drifted through the cabin door, and Rick wondered +why it is that coffee, bacon, and other breakfast scents are so much +more tantalizing on the water. + +The crabber approached on the leg of his journey closest to the boat. On +impulse, Rick called, "Come aboard and have some coffee?" + +The man grinned. Without missing his smooth swing at a rising crab, he +called back, "Don't mind. That coffee smell was drivin' me nigh crazy. +Be back when I finish this line." + +Rick leaned into the cabin. "Company for coffee, Scotty." + +"Heard you. Got another cup all ready. In here or out there?" + +"Out here. It's too nice to be inside." + +In a few moments the motorboat, which turned out to be as long as the +houseboat, came alongside. Rick took the line thrown by the crabber and +made it fast so that the crab boat would drift astern. He looked into +the boat with interest. Covers on four baskets showed that the crabber +had collected four bushels of crabs. A fifth and sixth basket were half +full, one with very large crabs, the other with smaller ones. + +The crabber swung aboard. He was of medium height, with light-blue eyes +set in a tanned and weather-beaten face. Rick guessed his age to be +somewhere in the mid-forties. He smiled, showing even teeth that were +glaringly white in his tanned face. + +"Name's Orvil Harris," he announced. + +"Rick Brant." Rick shook hands. "That's Don Scott coming out with the +coffee." + +Scotty put down the coffeepot and mugs he was carrying and shook hands. +"Call me Scotty, Mr. Harris. How do you like your coffee?" + +"Strong and often," Harris replied. "Plain black. Call me Orvil." + +Like all visitors, Harris was interested in the houseboat. "Been hopin' +for a look inside," he said in his slurred Eastern Shore accent. "Almost +gave up hope. You get up late, seems like." + +Rick glanced at the sun. "Must be all of seven o'clock. You call that +late?" + +"Been here since four. It's late for me." + +Rick showed Orvil Harris through the boat, then sat with him and Scotty +in the cockpit, sipping steaming coffee. The crabber talked willingly +about his business. + +"Not much profit," he reported, "but it beats workin'." + +After hearing about a crabber's life, rising in the middle of the night, +rain or shine, working crab lines and hauling baskets around until noon, +Rick wondered what Harris would consider hard work. Having spent a +dollar for six steamed crabs a few nights before, he was also amazed to +hear the crabber report that he received only six dollars a bushel for +"jumbo" crabs and three dollars a bushel for "culls," or medium ones. +All under four and a half inches from tip to tip were thrown back. + +Rick waited a courteous length of time before asking the question that +had been on his mind since hearing the crabber's name. "Are you any +relation to Link Harris?" + +"Second cousin." The blue eyes examined him with new interest. "Where'd +you hear about Link?" + +"At the Narrows," Scotty replied. "We were talking about flying +saucers." + +"Flyin' catfish," Harris said scornfully. "You swallow that yarn?" + +"Didn't you?" Rick asked quickly. + +"Not any. That why you picked this creek to anchor in when there's so +many nicer ones upstream?" + +Scotty explained. "We ducked in here to get out of that squall last +night. We didn't exactly pick it. Afterward, we realized where we were." + +"Why don't you believe the story about Link Harris?" Rick wanted to +know. + +"Oh, I believe some of it." The crabber took out a blackened, much-used +pipe and stoked it. "Link disappeared, all right. We found his boat +yonder." He pointed to a spot on the marshy shore. + +"He didn't drown?" Rick pressed. + +Harris shrugged. "Not very likely. We'd have found his body. Way the +tides were that day, there was no ebb tide strong enough to carry a body +out into deep water. The creek was clear. We'd have seen him." + +"Then where did he go?" Scotty demanded. + +"Can't say. When he disappeared, I went to Baltimore and bought every +book on flyin' saucers I could lay hands on. All I know for sure is that +what folks have been seein' around here ain't saucers. Shape's wrong, +color's wrong, and they don't move the way the books say." + +"Would you say they were diamond-shaped, dark in color, with tails?" +Rick asked carefully. + +Harris stopped with a match halfway to his pipe. "I would. For sure. +When'd you see one?" + +"Last night. Right here." + +"Mmmmm." Harris got the pipe going well and threw the match into the +water. "I've never seen one close. Hoped to. That's why I crab this +creek. Would you say it was big enough to catch a man?" + +Rick shook his head. "I didn't get a very long look, but I'd say +definitely not. Unless it had some kind of powerful motor I couldn't see +or hear." + +Harris puffed silently. + +"Any theories?" Scotty asked. + +"Not one. I'm barren as the flats in winter." + +Rick finished his coffee and put the mug down on the cabin top. "Would +Link have gone away of his own accord?" + +"I wouldn't think so." Harris accepted more coffee from Scotty. "But +let's keep one foot anchored. Who knows what's in a man's mind? Any man? +Sometimes there's a deep channel full of black water, and nothin' to +make you suspect it. Maybe Link did walk off. It would be the easiest +explanation--if you hadn't seen somethin' last night. I was about to +give up. Now I'm not so sure. What you saw came from somewhere, and it +was goin' somewhere. If we could find out whence and whither, so to +speak, we might have an idea of what happened to Link." + +Harris drew erect. "Speakin' of whence and whither, what's your +destination?" + +"We're visiting a friend," Rick answered. "He lives on Martins Creek on +the south side of the river. Name is Ames." + +Harris nodded. "I know who he is. Washington man. Has a summer place." + +"You've met him?" Scotty inquired. + +"So to speak. We've howdy'd, but we haven't shook." + +Rick smothered a grin at the picturesque phrase. + +"I'd better get back to crabs," Harris said. "I'm mighty grateful for +the hospitality. You get to town, look me up, and give me a chance to +return it." He shook hands with both boys, pulled his boat alongside, +and stepped aboard. In a short time, he was running the crab lines +again. + +"Interesting," Rick said noncommittally. + +Scotty chuckled. "Here we go again. Sherlock Brant's got his teeth into +a nice fat mystery. Good-by vacation." + +Rick had to grin. "It's not that bad," he said defensively. "I just +thought we might sniff around a little." + +"That's what I thought you thought. Come on, Hawkshaw. Let's get some +bacon and eggs on the fire and haul anchor." + +"Okay." Rick checked the chart. "We're only about twenty minutes' run +from Steve's place. If we eat here, he won't think he has to feed us +breakfast." + +"Considerate," Scotty agreed, grinning. "I can see you now. You walk up +the dock, shake hands, and say, 'Glad to see you, Steve. Don't bother +about breakfast. We've eaten. By the way, have you had any trouble with +flying stingarees?'" + +Rick grinned back. "Not bad predicting. Actually, I was going to wait +for the right opportunity, then say, 'Wonderful hunting and fishing +country, Steve. By the way, when does the hunting season open for flying +stingarees?'" + +Scotty laughed. "Okay. Only let's get going. I want to see how he +answers!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +Steve's Place + + +A red buoy marked the entrance to Martins Creek. Rick, at the helm, +passed it close to starboard and headed into the center of the creek. +Past the wooded shores of the creek entrance, he could see fields, +obviously tended, and more woods. + +"Steve's place should be the second on the left," Scotty said. "The +first house with a dock." + +"Use the binoculars," Rick suggested. "We should be able to see it when +we round the next bend." + +The houseboat passed the first house, a small, modern dwelling set close +to the water. A rowboat was hauled up on the shore. The creek rounded a +wooded promontory and the next house came into view. Steve's! + +Rick's eager eyes saw an attractive farmhouse, set well back from the +water in a frame of willows and white oaks. There was an acre of green +lawn in front of the house, the lawn running down to the water's edge. A +small dock jutted out into the creek. Tied to one side of it was a +sturdy runabout with an outboard motor. + +"Pretty," Scotty approved. + +Rick nodded. The farmhouse was half frame, half white brick, with a +slate roof. It was apparently only one story high. On impulse, Rick gave +a long blast on the boat horn. + +The front door opened and a man looked out, then walked swiftly down to +the dock, waving. The boys waved back. + +"Get the lines ready," Rick requested. "I'll back in." + +He throttled down and let the houseboat move slowly past the dock while +he yelled a greeting to Steve Ames. There were no obstacles, and just +enough room for the boat. He reversed his motors and threw his helm hard +over, backing slowly into position. Scotty stood ready with a line, +which he heaved to Steve. Then Scotty ran lightly to the foredeck and +got the bowline ready. The houseboat nestled against the dock smoothly +and Rick killed the motors. Then the three old friends were shaking +hands and grinning from ear to ear. + +"I've been watching since yesterday afternoon," Steve told them. "That +storm last night worried me some. I didn't know whether you could ride +it out or not." + +"No trouble," Rick said. "We ran into Swamp Creek on the north side of +the river and spent the night there." He watched the agent's face +closely, but Steve didn't react. + +"Come on in," Steve invited. "Coffee's on. Had your breakfast?" + +"We ate before hauling anchor," Scotty said, grinning. + +Steve Ames knew the boys well. "Something's up," he stated. "Rick is +watching me like a suspicious sand crab and your tone of voice is wrong, +Scotty. Coffee first, then talk. Come on." + +Rick shook his head in admiration. It was impossible to catch Steve off +guard. The agent had a deceptive appearance, athletic and good looking, +with the forthright friendliness of a college undergraduate. But his +trained eyes and ears missed nothing. + +Steve's living room was attractive and comfortable, with bookshelves +between the windows, a stone fireplace, a striped rug, and deep, restful +chairs. There were lamps in exactly the right positions for reading. + +The agent brought in a tray of coffee cups, with a pot of coffee and +platter of doughnuts. "Even if you've eaten breakfast, you can manage a +couple of these." He poured coffee and made sure the boys were +comfortable, then sank into an armchair and looked at them quizzically. + +"All right. Out with it." + +Rick chuckled. "You're too sharp," he accused. "We had a plan all cooked +up. I was going to comment on the fishing and hunting, and then +ask--very innocently--when the season for flying stingarees opened." + +The agent's eyebrows went up. "Flying stingarees? Swimming ones, yes. +Open season any time. Flying ones, no. What is all this?" + +"Rick saw one last night in the storm," Scotty explained. + +"That's not all," Rick added. He told of their conversation at the +Narrows and of the talk with Orvil Harris that morning. "So there's +something fishy around here besides crabs and rockfish. We thought you +might know," he concluded. + +Steve shook his head with obvious admiration. "Leave it to the Spindrift +twins! If there's a mystery afoot, you'll unearth it. Nope, lads. Never +heard of your flying stingarees, or flying saucers, either. But that's +not surprising. I'm down here mostly on weekends, sometimes with a +friend or two, and the only local folks we see are at the store or gas +station. Usually I'm in too much of a rush for small talk. I don't get +the local papers, and when I listen to the radio or watch TV, it's +either a Washington or Baltimore station. So I'm not in touch with local +events." + +"Anyway," Rick said, "stingarees don't fly." + +Steve had been in the Virgin Islands, too, and had been involved in the +adventure of _The Wailing Octopus_. "You found out that the octopus +didn't wail," he reminded them, "but for a while it looked as though +you'd found a new species. Maybe this is the same thing. What makes the +stingaree fly?" + +"It would be fun to find out," Scotty admitted. + +"You'll have time to make a start, and I won't be in the way with plans +for fishing or crabbing. I'm sorry, boys, but I'll be in and out of +Washington for a few days. Got a hot case working that I can't leave for +long." + +The boys protested. "You deserve some vacation," Rick said hotly. + +Steve held up his hand. "Whoa! I'm getting a vacation. This case should +be settled in three or four days, and I'll be with you. Meanwhile, you +move in here. You can drive me to the airport at Cambridge and pick me +up when I come back. That will leave you a car, and you can use the +motorboat for exploring or for fishing. If you feel like skin diving, +you can try for rock or hardheads off the northern tip of Taylors +Island, right at the mouth of the river. Did you bring gear?" + +"The whole set," Rick replied. "Lungs, compressors, guns, and even +suits." + +"You won't need suits. The bay is shallow and warm. At night you can +relax right here. Plenty of books, TV, radio, or a chessboard. If it +gets cool, there's wood for the fireplace." + +"Sounds good," Scotty agreed. "But we wanted you with us." + +"I will be. Before the weekend." + +"When do you have to leave?" Rick asked. + +"Three this afternoon. I have an evening meeting at headquarters. I'll +be back on the four-o'clock flight tomorrow afternoon, and, with luck, I +won't have to go again. If I do, it will be only for a day." + +"Okay," Rick said reluctantly. "We'll settle in, but we won't move in. +We'll sleep on the boat. No need to use up your linens and stuff when we +have sleeping bags if the weather is cold and cotton blankets when it's +warm. Besides, housekeeping is easier on the boat." + +Steve grinned. "I'll bet it is. If I know you two, you eat out of cans +and never use a dish if you can help it. Your idea of washing a coffee +cup is to hold it under running water or to dip it in the bay. Wait +until your mother and the girls join you. Life will undergo a drastic +change." + +"Don't rub it in," Scotty said ruefully. "Now, how about showing us over +this estate of yours?" + +Steve was pleased by the request. He obviously was proud of his +creekside home, and with reason. There were fifty acres of land, mostly +oak forest, with a private access road. Electric power came in from the +public power lines, but he had a gasoline generator in case of failure, +and his own artesian well. He explained: + +"The house has been completely remodeled, but it's really quite old. +When it was built, there was only a wagon track. In those days, the +rivers and creeks were the highways, and the people traveled by boat. +You'll see old mansions fronting on the rivers here. The back doors face +the roads. Water transport was the reason. The landed gentry had barges +rowed by slaves. The poor folks rowed their own. Of course, there were +plenty of sailing craft, too. There still are." + +The creek in front of the house proved deep enough for swimming, and the +three went for a dip. Rick tasted the water. It was salty, but not like +the ocean. The backwaters of the bay were brackish, with low-salt +content. + +In the afternoon, the boys--somewhat reluctantly--got into what they +referred to as "shore-going clothes." These consisted of slacks, sport +shirts, light casual jackets, and loafers. Steve had a bag packed. They +got into his car, a late-model convertible, and headed for Cambridge. + +The plane, a small twin-engine craft, was late coming from Norfolk. By +the time Steve was en route to Washington, it was nearly the dinner +hour. + +"Eat out?" Rick suggested. + +"Absolutely. More crab cakes?" + +Rick shook his head. "Crab imperial. Maybe some steamed clams." + +"You're making me hungry," Scotty protested. "I'll say one thing for the +bay area. The folks eat well. How about some terrapin stew?" + +"Crab imperial," Rick said again. "Baked in a crab shell. Lots of +mayonnaise, paprika, and butter. I'll have a hearts of romaine salad on +the side, with oil-and-vinegar dressing. Maybe tarragon vinegar. A few +French fries, too. But first, a couple of dozen steamed clams. What do +they call 'em here? Manos, pronounced Man! Oh!" + +"Just tell me where," Scotty begged. "Say no more." + +"How about that place we passed just before we got to Cambridge? The one +built like a Colonial mansion." + +"The Bay Gourmet," Scotty remembered. "Okay. You're driving." + +Rick put the convertible in gear and moved out of the airport driveway +onto the highway. "We're on our own," he said. "It's up to us to +entertain ourselves. But food isn't enough. Man cannot live by bread +alone, the Scriptures say." + +"I knew it." Scotty slumped down in the seat and sighed. "Since man +cannot live by bread alone, his life must be filled with other things. +And guess what things!" + +Rick smiled in anticipation. "Uh-huh. Flying stingarees." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +The Face Is Familiar + + +The Bay Gourmet was all that its outside appearance promised. A waiter, +elderly and courteous, his voice soft with the Eastern Shore accent, led +them to a table in a main dining room that was like something out of +early American history, Maryland style. The Maryland colony had not been +poor, and many of its settlers had been of the English nobility. They +had brought with them furniture, paintings, and chinaware from England +and France, and their homes were gracious and livable. + +The restaurant followed the pattern. Rick wouldn't have been surprised +to see the ghost of Lord Baltimore walk through one of the arches. + +The boys pored over the menus and finally settled on crab gumbo, clam +fritters, and crab imperial. While they waited, Rick opened the subject +that was on his mind. "How does a stingaree fly?" + +Scotty shrugged. "Easy. He climbs to the top of a tall tree, spreads his +wings, and takes off. He flaps his wings to gain altitude. He steers +with his tail." + +"I'm serious," Rick said sternly, his eyes twinkling. + +"So am I. Alternate method: the stingaree climbs on a fence and lassos a +passing airplane. Or catches a ride on an eagle's tail feathers. Take +your choice." + +"I've got a better way. The stingaree poses for his picture. The picture +is used as a model for making a kite, probably of black plastic. The +kite gets flown in the wind." + +Scotty stared. "Maybe--just maybe--you've got something there. The +stingaree shape would make a good kite. Could what you saw have been a +kite?" + +"It's possible." Rick nodded. "The wind was funneling down the creek +pretty fast, and it would have carried a big kite. There's only one +small difficulty. Why launch a kite that has no string?" + +"You certain it didn't have a string?" + +"In that wind, the string would have had to be a cable. I'd have seen +it, and maybe felt it. The kite--stingaree, that is--just missed. Of +course, the string might have broken." + +"There's another small difficulty," Scotty said thoughtfully. "If it was +a kite, where was it launched and why?" + +"Up the creek somewhere. We don't know what's up there." + +"True. From the looks, I'd say not much. Maybe some opossums and +muskrats, which don't launch kites." + +Rick spread butter liberally on a hot biscuit. "We can always take a +look." + +"We can. In Steve's boat, the creek would be only a few minutes away." + +Rick savored the biscuit and took another bite that finished it. "I +could eat a ton of these. What else would make a stingaree fly?" + +Scotty accepted a pitcher of honey from the waiter and poured a +disgraceful amount on a biscuit. "How about some kind of experimental +aircraft?" + +Rick shook his head. "The stingaree was vertical. An experimental plane +in that position would have to be rising straight up, and this creature +was traveling almost horizontally, with the wind. Besides, I heard no +motor or any kind of power plant." + +"You're as lucid as lamplight, ol' buddy. You explain everything--except +what made that stingaree fly." + +Rick grinned wryly. "I'll never get a swelled head with you sticking +pins in it." + +"Only carrying out my proper function," Scotty said virtuously. + +The first course had arrived. Crab gumbo turned out to be spicy, hot, +and very, very good. + +"I may decide to live here," Rick said as he spooned up the last +mouthful. + +"I'm a native already," Scotty stated. "The Chesapeake Bay is my home, +if the rest of the meal lives up to the soup." + +The clam fritters were light, crisp, and succulent. "Meet a brand-new +Marylander," Scotty announced. + +Rick started to reply, then stopped as a party of three entered the +dining room and were shown to a table nearby. He knew one of the men, +but he couldn't remember where they had met. + +"Scotty," he said softly, "look around at the group that just came in. +Who's the man in the plaid jacket? I know him, but I can't remember." + +Scotty's napkin "accidentally" fell to the floor. He had to turn to pick +it up. When he straightened, he shook his head. "The face is familiar, +but I can't place it." + +Rick studied the man through half-lowered lids, not wanting to be rude +by staring openly. The familiar face was lean, and lined. It was not a +pleasant face, although its owner would be described as a +"distinguished-looking man of middle age." The lips were not especially +thin, but they were tightly held. The chin was firm, with a shadow of +beard even though the man looked freshly shaven. His hair was crisp, +wavy, and pure white. + +"Could be of French or Italian ancestry," Rick said. "Or, maybe, Spanish +or Portuguese. Anyway, I'd vote for Southern European." + +"On the button," Scotty agreed. + +Rick's eyes dropped as the man looked their way. The eyes were dark +brown, he saw, with heavy lids. The eyebrows, in startling contrast to +the white hair, were dark. + +The boy looked up again, his glance guarded. The man was smartly, but +conservatively dressed, in dark-blue slacks, white sport shirt open at +the collar, and a linen sport jacket of subdued plaid, much like those +affected by some Ivy Leaguers. + +The other two men were not familiar. One was almost bald, with a wisp of +sandy hair combed in a pitiful and useless attempt to conceal the +baldness. He wore glasses with clear plastic frames. They sat on a nose +that could have served as a golf-ball model. His lips were almost +nonexistent, and his chin receded so far that Rick wondered why he +didn't conceal it with a beard. He seemed like a complete non-entity. In +contrast to the white-haired man's style of dress, the nondescript man +wore a rumpled black suit of synthetic fabric, a regular white shirt, +and a tie that a color-blind old aunt might have given him for Christmas +two decades past. + +[Illustration (2 page 51 and 52)] + +The third man was the largest of the three, with an expressionless face +and eyes that never stopped moving. He sat motionless in his chair, +apparently completely relaxed. Rick knew that the relaxation was +deceptive. Steve Ames at times looked relaxed like that, but it was the +same kind of quietness one finds in a coiled spring that has not yet +been released. The man had brown hair, light-brown eyes, and a heavy +tan. He spoke only twice while Rick watched, and then only to give +orders to the waiter. The other two men talked steadily, but in such low +tones that the boys could not hear words. + +The crab imperial arrived, and the riddle of the familiar face was +forgotten in a new taste treat. After one luscious bite, Rick said, "I'm +going to bring the folks here and order a duplicate of this meal. +They'll go crazy." + +Excellent food was a tradition in the Brant household. Mrs. Brant was a +superb cook, and both she and Hartson Brant had taught the Spindrift +young people to appreciate a well-prepared dish. + +"I'll order the same thing just to keep them company," Scotty offered. + +"Generous, always generous," Rick replied. "You'll eat the same thing +even if you have to force it down." + +"I'll do just that," Scotty agreed. "Remember where you've seen yonder +diner?" + +Rick shook his head. "Not yet. It's an odd trio. He's the dominant one +in the group. The bald one looks like a servant, and the big one like a +police dog on guard." + +"Bodyguard?" Scotty asked quickly. + +"Maybe. Or, perhaps, a chauffeur. It's hard to say." + +"Do you suppose the white-haired man is just a familiar type and we've +never seen him before?" + +"No. It isn't that. I know I've seen him before, but I can't tell you +where or when." + +The boys finished the meal with a scoop of lemon sherbet and rose +reluctantly. "We'll be back," Rick promised. + +"That we will," Scotty echoed. + +The old waiter bowed them to the door. As they were leaving, Rick +paused. "Do you know that white-haired man at the table near us?" + +"Why, sir, that's Mr. Merlin. Summer folks, you might say. He bought one +of the old mansions. This is his second summer with us." + +"Which one of the old mansions?" Scotty asked. + +"Calvert's Favor. It's in the guidebooks, sir. We have copies for sale +if you'd like one." + +"We have one," Rick replied. "Thank you." + +"Not at all, gentlemen. Hurry back." + +The boys walked into a lovely summer night, with a newly risen moon, +near fullness, floating just above the horizon. By unspoken agreement, +they put the top down on Steve's convertible. Rick was just snapping it +in place when he sensed someone standing next to him. He turned, to face +the big man of the trio. + +The man got to the point without preliminaries. "You were asking the +waiter about Mr. Merlin." + +"We thought he looked familiar, but we couldn't place him," Rick +replied. "We meant no discourtesy." + +"I'm sure you didn't," the man said smoothly. He didn't smile, even +though his voice was pleasant enough. "Mr. Merlin is a very prominent +man. He comes down here to get away from people. Naturally, he doesn't +welcome inquiries. I'm sure you understand." + +"We have no intention of intruding," Rick stated coolly. "As I said, he +looked familiar. We merely asked out of curiosity." + +"You're not local boys." It was a statement. + +"No. We're visitors." + +"The local people have learned not to ask questions about Mr. Merlin. I +suggest you follow their example." The man turned and walked back into +the restaurant. + +The boys stared after him, openmouthed. + +"If that poor soul only knew," Scotty said, "he picked the best possible +way to arouse our curiosity." + +"I haven't been warned so politely in a long time," Rick agreed. "Come +on, son. Let's head for Martins Creek." He slid behind the wheel while +Scotty got into the passenger side. + +Rick started the car and listened to it purr for a moment. "I noticed +that Steve has quite a few books about the Eastern Shore on his +bookshelves," he said casually. + +"So did I. Including one called _Tidewater Maryland_. Lots of pictures +of the old estates in that one." + +"Be interesting if there was a picture of Calvert's Favor, wouldn't it?" + +"Interesting and maybe informative. Well, are we going to sit here all +night?" + +"Nope. We're going to Steve's. Looks as if we have a small research +project." + +"To be followed by a second project," Scotty added. "First we read up on +Calvert's Favor, and then we find it and look it over." + +Rick grinned. "Nobody warns Scotty with impunity." + +"But nobody!" Scotty said cheerfully. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +The Saucer Sighters + + +"We shoot a line straight north," Rick explained, "for a distance of +about twenty miles. Then we start asking questions. If we get +affirmative answers, we head north again for another ten miles and +repeat the process. We do this until we come to an area where saucers +have not been sighted. Okay?" + +Scotty nodded. "Okay. There is only one tiny flaw in this plan. If we +head straight north, we drop Steve's car into the Little Choptank. If we +cross that safely, we'll get wet in the main Choptank." + +Rick sighed. "If there is anything I detest, loathe, and despise, it is +people who get up in the morning feeling full of humor. We will go to +Cambridge, missing the Little Choptank, and cross the Choptank on the +bridge. Route 50 goes almost straight north. Is that more precise and +acceptable, Donald?" + +"It is indeed, Richard. I'm a stickler for accuracy." + +"You're a stickler in the mud. Let's get a notebook and start +traveling." + +A conference after dinner the night before had resulted in a plan of +action. The boys had decided to reduce all the rumors about flying +saucers to statistics that could be examined to see what elements the +various sightings had in common. The way to obtain the statistics was +through interviews. + +The problem of the white-haired man with the familiar face still +remained. Steve's books had disclosed that Calvert's Favor was famous, +that it had been so named by the original settler because he had been +granted the land by Lord Calvert, that it had changed hands only twice +in more than a century. What the books didn't give was its location. The +place was identified only as "a quiet creek, entirely within the +original land grant." There was no mention of a Calvert Creek in the +vicinity. They decided to put the question of its location aside until +Steve's return. + +It was a lovely morning. The convertible hummed smoothly over the +blacktop roads to Cambridge, onto Route 50, across the Choptank River +and north. Rick braked to a stop as the highway met the turnoff to +Easton. "Think we're far enough north?" + +Scotty had been consulting a road map. He shook his head. "Not yet. +Easton is almost due east of Knapps Narrows, and we know the saucers +have been sighted there. Better go on to Wye Mills." + +"Okay." The road was dual-lane cement, now, and Rick relaxed while the +car sped northward. "Odd name, Wye Mills. Lots of Wyes around here. +Three Wye Rivers on the chart, a Wye Landing, and a famous old Wye Oak." + +"Sounds like a song," Scotty said. "Wye, tell me Wye, are there saucers +in the sky--" + +"Please," Rick protested, "I'm in pain." + +Route 50 turned at Wye Mills, leading to the Chesapeake Bay Bridge that +crossed the bay to Annapolis. There was a gas station and lunch stand at +the intersection. Rick pulled in and drifted up to the gas pump. "Fill +it up, please. Any bottles of Coke around?" + +"In the machine." The attendant pointed to the red automatic vendor. + +The boys equipped themselves with Cokes and walked back to watch the +attendant fill the tank. "We must be somewhere near where all those +flying saucers were sighted," Rick remarked. + +The attendant looked up. "Farther south. Never heard of anyone this far +north seein' one. They see plenty down toward Cambridge. Ask me, they're +seein' spots in front of their eyes." + +The boys exchanged glances. When the car was ready, Rick turned and +started south again. "See any stores on the way where we could ask +again?" + +"There's a restaurant. I saw two grocery stores, too, but from the way +the attendant talked, we'll have to get closer to Cambridge." Scotty was +making a note in their notebook. + +Five miles back toward home, Rick stopped at another gas station and +asked the attendant to look at the oil. None was needed, so the boys +bought another pair of Cokes and engaged the man in conversation. + +"Ever see any flying saucers in this area?" Rick asked. + +"Nope. My brother did though, late one afternoon when he was on duty." + +Scotty took out the notebook. "We're trying to get some information +about them for a story we're writing. Do you remember when it was?" + +"Let's see. I was workin' in the evenin' that day, so it must have been +a Saturday. Last month, it was. Oh, I recall it now. Next day I took the +kids to my mother's. It was her birthday. That would make it the tenth." + +"Where was your brother when he saw it?" Rick queried. + +"Pumpin' gas. Right here. He said it sort of came up over the trees, +glittering like fire." The attendant pointed to a patch of trees down +the road. The direction was almost directly southwest. + +Scotty scribbled in the notebook. "Any other details you remember? What +time in the afternoon was it?" + +"Between four and five. Can't say exactly. He was still buzzin' when I +came on duty at six. Wanted to call the newspapers, but I talked him out +of it. People would think he was a fool." + +"Did you?" Rick asked quietly. + +"Nope. I know Chick. He's got a straight head on him. It may not have +been a flyin' saucer, but you can bet it wasn't anythin' common, or +anythin' he'd seen before." + +"Score one," Scotty said triumphantly as they drove off. + +"One flying saucer doesn't make a Martian invasion," Rick reminded him. +"Let's keep it up." + +By lunchtime they had interviewed a dozen people who claimed to have +seen flying saucers. All details of the sightings had been noted in +Scotty's book. During lunch, at a small restaurant in the old town of +Oxford, they scored three more times after interviews with fishermen. + +After lunch, they crossed the Choptank and headed south to the little +town of Vienna. From there the route led to the shore town of Elliott, +back to Vienna, and past the corner of Delaware to Salisbury, a +good-sized town on the Maryland Eastern Shore. + +There was a newspaper office in Salisbury. A chat with the editor and a +quick skim through the back files added more data to the growing list. +Rick had a hunch there was a pattern shaping up, but he could not be +sure until the information was all laid out for examination. + +By the time the boys met Steve at the small airport, both Rick and +Scotty had writer's cramp, and the notebook was nearly used up. They had +recorded over half a hundred sightings. + +Steve listened to a report of their day with an appreciative smile. +"Nothing like a mystery for keeping you two out of mischief," he told +them. "Want to eat out? Or cook a steak in the yard?" + +"Eat out," Scotty said promptly. + +"We can get steak at home," Rick added. "But not Chesapeake Bay clam +fritters or Maryland crab cakes." + +Steve had a favorite place of his own, a small, nondescript joint called +"Louie's Crab House" up the Choptank River, near the town of Denton. +There, on wooden trestle tables covered with brown wrapping paper, he +introduced them to a favorite Chesapeake Bay pastime known as a "crab +feast." + +The waiter set wooden blocks in front of them, with a round piece of +hardwood, a fork, and a sharp paring knife. A stack of paper napkins was +supplied, and individual pots of melted butter completed the setting. + +The boys waited impatiently, hungry, but trusting Steve's word that the +result was worth the wait. The waiter reappeared carrying a huge tray, +stacked with a towering pyramid of whole crabs, steaming and red, coated +with the spices in which they had been cooked. Placing the tray on the +table, the waiter asked, "Anything else?" + +Scotty said, dazed, "I don't believe there's anything else left in the +kitchen. We have all the crabs in the world right here." + +"Only three dozen," the waiter said. "Jumbos, of course. You want +anything, you yell." + +Unidentified flying objects were forgotten as Steve initiated them into +the proper method of eating fresh crab. It turned out to be quite an +art, but one that they mastered quickly. Soon all three of them were +munching succulent back-fin crab meat drenched in fresh butter. The +wooden block served as an anvil, and the round hardwood piece as a +hammer for cracking claws. The paring knife was used for trimming and +for scooping out delicious bits of meat. The fork was utilized to +persuade small tidbits to leave their shell cages. Three or four napkins +were used between each tidbit to mop buttery hands, and even chins, down +which the butter sometimes dripped. It was a feast, indeed. + +"If I hadn't been a heavy eater before, I'd be one after this," Scotty +observed happily. + +"Beats hunting flying stingarees," Rick agreed. "Pass another crab, +please." + +Not until the table had been cleared by the waiter, who simply removed +the utensils and tray, then wrapped up all the shells in the brown paper +and carried it off, did the conversation return to the mystery. + +Rick hadn't told Steve of last night's meeting with the white-haired man +or of the thinly veiled warning. He described them now in detail. + +"Odd," Steve said. "This familiar face needs identifying. No normal +person worries about anyone asking casual questions. That's a sure mark +of insecurity. In other words, the man is afraid. People who are afraid +often have something to hide. Do you have any reason to think he may be +tied up with the flying stingarees or saucers?" + +"None at all," Rick answered. + +"Do you know where Calvert's Favor is?" Scotty asked. "The location +wasn't given in your books. There was quite a lot about the plantation +house." + +"No, never heard of the place. But we'll find out when we pass through +Cambridge. I know a man there who knows everything about this area." +Steve held out his hand. "Let's see your notebook." + +Scotty handed it over. The young agent leafed through it rapidly. +"That's some list. If I had any doubt that people were seeing things, +it's gone now. How are you going to arrange the data?" + +"In tables, and on a map," Rick explained. + +"Fine. We can do it tonight. Want anything else?" + +Scotty groaned. "I couldn't even drink a glass of water." + +"Same here," Rick agreed. + +"Then let's leave the crabs behind and take a ride." + +On the way back to Cambridge, Steve Ames mused aloud. "You know, it's an +odd world. A few years ago there were flying saucer reports by the +dozen. Each one was given lots of newspaper space. The Air Force +conducted investigations. Then flying saucers got unpopular, the Air +Force closed its project, and the newspapers wrote a funny story every +time a report came in. Now we have a rash of sightings in one small +area. People talk about it, but no one gets excited. The authorities +brush it off as just hokum. Yet, your investigation today shows that +people are seeing _something_, even if we don't know what." + +Rick nodded thoughtfully. "What's even odder is that a well-known man +disappears, people search for him for a couple of days, and then do +nothing but talk about it. The police aren't even interested, so far as +we can tell." + +Steve laughed. "You're right. But look at it in another way. Assume +you're the local policeman. Someone rushes in and tells you that Joe +Doakes has been carried off by a flying saucer. You don't believe in +flying saucers, but you know Doakes. You investigate. His boat has been +found, but his body is missing. What do you assume? That he was really +toted off by some mysterious object? Nope. You assume he was hurt or +killed falling out of the boat. You know that sharks come into the bay +and sometimes swim up creeks. You figure that the currents sometimes act +in odd ways, depending on the winds. You figure a dozen natural kinds of +things, none connected with mysterious flying objects. You call a +coroner's jury, and not a man on it is willing to say for the record +that he believes in flying saucers. What happens?" + +"Case closed," Scotty said slowly, "because the body isn't around. No +proof of death, or even of accident. Pending proof of death--meaning the +body--the jury finds that Joe Doakes is missing under mysterious +circumstances and may have met with death or an accident by misadventure +while engaged in his lawful business of crabbing." + +"That's about it," Steve agreed. "It isn't really odd when you look at +it that way. But you can bet the case isn't closed. It's just inactive, +until something turns up. Remember there's no detective squad in a small +town." + +There was a combination gas station and store on the outskirts of +Cambridge. Steve drove in and honked the horn. A young boy looked out of +the store and called, "Howdy, Steve. Want gas?" + +"Not tonight, Jimmy. Ask your grandfather where Calvert's Favor is +located, will you?" + +The boy came out of the store and walked toward the car. He was a +freckle-faced towhead, with a grin wider than the Choptank River. "Heck, +Steve, I don't have to ask gran'pop that. Everybody knows where +Calvert's Favor is located." + +"Not everybody," Steve returned. "I don't. How about letting us in on +the secret, Jimmy?" + +"It's no secret. Everybody around here knows it's located across the +river from you. It's at the head of Swamp Creek." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +Sighting Data + + +Steve's living room was an excellent place to work. In fact, it was a +shade too comfortable. Rick and Scotty spent a half hour arguing over +who would do what in putting their data down on paper, and both knew +perfectly well that they were just stalling. + +Finally Rick said, "Let's admit it. We're both stuffed with crab, a +little sleepy, and too comfortable in these armchairs." + +Scotty waved a hand languidly. "All right. I concede the point." + +Steve Ames chuckled. "Suppose you move to less comfortable chairs. Those +dining-room chairs should keep you upright. Get to work and I will too." + +The boys hauled themselves to their feet reluctantly. Rick walked to the +door and looked out through the screen. He could see the creek +glistening, and, out beyond the dock where the houseboat and runabout +were tied up, he saw ripples spreading where a fish had jumped. The air +was still, and he could hear cicadas in the trees and shrubs. + +"This is the land of pleasant living," he observed. "I'm surprised +anyone on the Eastern Shore ever gets a lick of work done." + +"You certainly don't," Scotty retorted. "Come on over here and stop +admiring the scenery." + +Steve had produced large sheets of white paper, a ruler, and pencils. +Rick sat down. "I'll act as recorder." + +"Volunteering for the hardest job?" Scotty inquired. "The air must be +affecting you." + +"Nope." Rick shook his head. "I have just enough energy left to be +realistic. I can't read your writing. Suppose I put down the headings. +Location, date of sighting, time of sighting, direction of sighting, +number of persons who saw object. What else?" + +"Description," Scotty suggested. "Maybe that ought to be in two parts. +One for shape and one for color." + +Rick nodded. "Good idea. I'll rule lines as we go." He drew lines for +the columns, printed his headings, and put in the first several +horizontal lines. "Ready," he announced. + +"We'll start with the first one. Location: five miles south of Wye Mills +on Route 50." + +Rick printed: "5M S Wye Mls Rte 50." + +"Date of sighting, July 10. Time of sighting, between five and six in +the evening." + +Rick printed industriously. Scotty read from his notes until over twenty +lines of information had been printed on the chart. Then Steve +interrupted, bringing a tray of tall glasses of iced ginger ale. + +The young agent put the tray down and scanned the columns while the boys +helped themselves. In a moment Steve nodded. "There's a pattern taking +shape, at least in the descriptions. But I can't make much out of the +dates and locations, yet." + +"We'll keep plugging," Rick said. "Maybe we'll need to rearrange the +columns before they make sense." + +"You have a point," Steve agreed. "Use the chart for the source, then we +can fill out sheets on the individual items, or I have some +four-by-five-inch file cards that would be ideal." + +"But we'll be at it all night," Scotty objected. + +"I don't think so. Once the basic data are on paper, it will go fast. +Keep at it. Yell if you want refills on the ginger ale. I need to finish +my own homework." + +The boys returned to logging the data while Steve settled down with a +bulky report. In another hour the notebook had been exhausted, and the +big sheet of paper was nearly full of ruled lines and columns, recording +data. + +"We're done," Rick announced. + +Steve put his report aside and joined them at the table. The boys waited +expectantly while the agent scanned the sheet. + +"You've done a good job of collecting information," Steve said. "Now it +needs breaking down some more. The mixture in the 'color' column bothers +me. I have a hunch those colors may be related to the position of the +sun. Look." + +Rick watched as Steve's forefinger touched a line that showed the color +as "dark." The finger moved across the line to the time of day, eleven +A.M. Steve pointed to another line where the color was listed as +"orange." The time of day was seven fifteen P.M., with an additional +note of "twilight." + +"Got it," Scotty agreed. "You think the objects may actually be dark, +but appear in various colors depending on the position of the sun and +the position of the viewer." + +"It makes sense," Rick agreed. "All of the colors listed--red, orange, +silvery, bright--could be reflections of the sun on a smooth object." + +Steve walked to a bookshelf and pulled down a copy of _The World +Almanac_. "Sunrise and sunset times are listed in here. You can figure +out quickly enough where the sun was in relation to the observer. It +will take another sheet of paper and some more columns." + +"You gave us an extra sheet," Rick replied. "How should I head the +columns?" + +Steve thought for a moment. "Three columns for the position of the sun. +Rising, high, setting. Four columns for the position of the observer in +relation to the flying object--north, south, east, or west. One column +for color, and one for other comments such as 'shiny.' And, of course, +you want a column for the time." + +Rick recorded the data as Scotty read it off, checking _The World +Almanac_ for the sun's approximate positions. Steve was obviously +interested. He started to read his report again, then abandoned it and +came back to the table where the boys were working. + +When the data had been transferred, the three studied it. Rick ran his +eye down the columns quickly, getting an impression, then he went over +the data slowly. "You're right, Steve," he said finally. "It all +tallies, even at a quick look. In every case where the object looked +colored, the observer saw the sun striking it. Where it looked dark, the +object was between the observer and the sun. Or, at least, the observer +wasn't in a position to see the sun reflect off the object." + +Scotty added, "In every case where the object looked red or orange, the +sun was setting or had already set. In every case marked 'bright,' +'silvery,' or 'shiny,' the sun was high and the observer could see the +sun reflecting from the object." + +"It seems pretty clear," Steve agreed. "Now, we have only one really +close-range sighting, and that was Rick's. How sure are you that the +object was black?" + +Rick shrugged. "I know enough not to trust my eyes completely in wind +and rain. But there certainly wasn't any light to reflect off the +object, and I'm pretty sure it was either black or very dark brown." + +"That would fit all the sightings," Steve pointed out. "I'm assuming +that the objects have a smooth surface that reflects light, even though +the material may be dark colored. Didn't you suggest a kite made of dark +plastic? That would fit the bill, except that the objects don't act like +kites." + +"What do they act like?" Scotty demanded. + +Neither Steve nor Rick had an answer. + +"Let's try for another piece of information," Steve suggested. "Put the +dates down on cards. If you have sightings by different people on the +same dates, and at about the same times, put them on the same card. If +there's a big time discrepancy--say one sighting in the morning and +another in the afternoon--put them on different cards." + +Rick looked up. "What are you trying to find?" + +"Periodicity," Steve said promptly. "Is there any regularity in the +sightings? Do they occur every three, four, or five days, or once a week +on Mondays? Which reminds me. You might put down the day of the week, +too. There's a calendar on the wall behind you." + +"You read and I'll copy," Rick told Scotty. "Go ahead." He waited with +pencil poised over a card. In a moment he looked at his pal. "What are +you waiting for?" + +Scotty was poring over the notebook again. His eyebrows knit. "You know, +there's one chunk of data on just a few sightings that we didn't put +down because we didn't have a column for it." + +"What is it?" Steve asked. + +"I know!" Rick exclaimed. "There were a few times when people said they +saw yellow glows in the sky after they saw the objects. Isn't that it?" + +Scotty nodded. "I've been counting. There were five instances. Two +people said the glow wasn't really connected, because it came from +Wallops Island." + +"Why on earth didn't you include it in the chart?" Steve demanded. + +"It doesn't fit," Scotty replied. "In every single case, the glow was to +the southeast." + +"Maybe it does fit," Steve said emphatically. "Boys, never leave out a +bit of data because it doesn't seem to fit. This particular chunk could +very well be the clue." + +"Why?" Rick asked quickly. + +Steve shook his head. "I'm not sure, so I don't want to say. But include +every sighting of the yellow glow on the date cards. I'm going to borrow +that set for a closer look." + +Scotty began reading, while Rick recorded. When the cards were complete, +they ran through them. There was no periodicity. The dates seemed +completely random. Sometimes two sightings had been made at different +times on the same date. There would be two days, three, four, five, or +even six between sightings. + +"Not a trace of pattern," Rick said. + +"Who says stingarees have to fly on schedule?" Steve asked with a grin. +"They're not supposed to be like planes. What's the next step?" + +Scotty produced the map they had used. "One more job to do, and that's +to plot the locations of the observers and draw lines in the directions +of the sightings. That will show us if there's any regularity in the +place where the flying objects appear." + +"Very good," Steve approved. + +Scotty took pencil and ruler and laid the map out flat. "You read +location and direction, Rick, and I'll plot the data." + +"Okay." Rick began with the first. "Five miles south of Wye Mills on +Route 50. Direction, southwest." + +Scotty measured the distance from Wye Mills, using the map scale in +inches, then estimated the compass direction and drew a line. "Next." + +Rick read on. By the time he had reached the tenth sighting, all three +of them were waiting anxiously for each new bit of data to be plotted. + +Finally the job was complete. Steve had hurried off a moment before and +returned with a pair of compasses in his hand. As the boys watched, he +put the sharp point of one compass leg into a spot on the map, adjusted +the radius, and drew a perfect circle. He adjusted the radius again, and +drew a second circle, slightly larger, then a third. + +"Bull's-eye!" Rick said excitedly. + +The direction lines bisected the outer concentric circles like the radii +of an orb spider's web. In the center of the web was the smallest +circle. Within the circle was the focal point of all flying object +observations. + +Rick said the name aloud. + +"Swamp Creek!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +Calvert's Favor + + +There was a faint hint of coming daylight in the eastern sky when Rick, +Steve, and Scotty walked down the pier to the tied-up boats. The boys +had spent the night--or most of it--aboard the houseboat, until the +alarm pulled them from their sleeping bags at four o'clock. Steve had +breakfast cooking when they arrived at the farmhouse, and after coffee, +bacon, and eggs, they started on their mission. + +"Daybreak is the lowest peak of daily activity," Steve said as they +climbed into the runabout. He took the pilot's seat, while Rick and +Scotty prepared to cast off. + +"You might say that the first glimmer of daylight is man's worst hour," +Steve continued. "It's the time when battles start, when planes take off +for dawn bombing runs. I've read that it's the time when most deaths +occur in hospitals, although I don't know for certain that it's true. +What's more important to us, it's the time of day when guards are most +sleepy and least alert." + +The young agent had been working as he talked, checking the outboard +motor, checking the connections to the gasoline tank, and pumping +pressure into it. Now he pressed the starter and the well-kept motor +caught at once. Rick and Scotty cast off bow and stern lines and settled +themselves in the seat next to Steve. + +"Unless this mysterious Mr. Merlin suffers from sleepless nights, he's +deep in slumber. The sound of a small boat won't disturb him, because +he's used to the noise of motors from crabbers. We'll hope there is no +guard on the place. If there is, we'll be fishing. Better have the rods +ready. One of you can sit in back and troll from there." + +The outboard runabout moved away from the pier and into the creek. Steve +knew his way perfectly, and he opened the throttle to half speed, +steering through the curve at the mouth of the creek, rounding the buoy, +and heading directly toward Swamp Creek. + +It had taken the houseboat over twenty minutes to make the run. Steve +covered the distance in ten. As he throttled down and swung the runabout +into Swamp Creek, Rick's eye picked up a glimmer of light, then the +shape of something white cruising toward them. + +For a moment he stared into the lessening gloom, then said, "It's Orvil +Harris. Anyway, it looks like his boat." + +Steve said nothing for a moment, then he headed directly toward the +crabber. As the two boats closed, Harris paused in his crabbing and +watched the three in the runabout approach. + +Steve matched the crab boat's speed and nudged the runabout alongside. +"Howdy," he called. + +Orvil Harris reached out and caught the runabout's gunwale, then took +the line Rick passed to him. He made it fast around a cleat. "Up early," +he greeted them. "Come to watch me crab?" + +"Not exactly," Rick returned. "Mr. Harris, this is Mr. Ames." + +The crabber reached out a muscular hand and Steve stretched to meet it. +"Mighty pretty place you have on Martins Creek," Harris said. "Admired +it many's the time." + +"Thanks," Steve returned. "Be glad to have you drop in any time." + +"I may do that. Thanks." + +"The boys tell me your cousin was the one taken by a flying saucer." + +Harris grinned. "He was taken. I'm not sayin' how until I know." + +"What do you know about Calvert's Favor?" + +Harris rubbed his chin, and made a slight correction in the crab boat's +course. "Present owner is a man named Merlin. No one knows anythin' +about him, and no one asks. Has a big thug with him all the time, and +takes exception to people gettin' nosy. Most folks got snubbed and drew +back, so to speak. Jim Hardin--he's a fisherman hereabouts--took +exception and got beaten up. Hardin's not easy to lick. After that, +folks stopped speakin' to Merlin and company." + +"How big's the company?" Steve asked. + +"Merlin, bodyguard, a little squirt with no chin, and three others. +Cooks and bottle washers, likely. Would it be polite to ask why you're +interested?" + +Steve had been studying Harris since the two boats joined up, Rick knew, +so he wasn't surprised when Steve gave a direct reply. + +"You'll keep this to yourself, please. The boys have been doing a little +research, and it's clear these unidentified flying objects people have +been seeing come from Swamp Creek. That points to the old mansion, +especially since Mr. Merlin is so secretive about himself. We decided to +get up before the people at the mansion were likely to be about, and +look the place over. If it looks promising, we'll try keeping an eye on +it." + +Harris nodded. "I'll keep it to myself, you can be sure. If the mystery +of those flyin' stingarees gets solved, we may find out what happened to +Cousin Link. I'll help if I can." + +"You know these waters pretty well," Steve returned. "Is there any way +of getting to Calvert's Favor, or within watching distance, without +going up this creek?" + +The crabber reached over and turned a switch, cutting his engine. "There +is, for that boat you're in. About thirty yards downstream from the +entrance to this creek, there is a break in the line of swamp grass +along the shore. It's a little lead, a channel maybe six feet wide and +from two to three feet deep. It runs into the swamp. Right at the place +where the water gets too narrow for the boat, a man who didn't care if +he got muddy or wet could go through the brush to an old duck blind +right across from the mansion. A pair of good glasses would give him a +right good view of the whole thing." + +"We couldn't see the mansion from the boat?" Rick asked. + +"The brush is too thick. Tell you what, if you got ground tackle aboard, +drop a hook and come over with me. I'll run you up the creek and you can +take a good look. If anyone's out watchin', they'll only see a crab boat +lookin' for a place to set lines." + +"Scotty," Steve directed, "there's a grapnel on a line up on the bow, +under that small hatch. Toss it in, please." + +Scotty stood up on the seat, stepped to the bow, and found the small, +four-pronged anchor. He dropped it into the water, let out line, and +tied the line fast to the bow cleat. "Okay, Steve." + +The three got aboard the crab boat as Harris started his engine. "Make +yourselves comfortable," the crabber invited. "There's a pair of glasses +on the engine box." + +With the binoculars Rick and Steve had brought, that made three pairs +each. The crabber swung the boat around expertly and headed upstream. +The sky was light now, and far overhead a wisp of cirrus was glowing +pink, a warning of coming sunrise. + +Rick sat on the gunwale and looked ahead. The creek narrowed for a few +hundred yards, then widened again. The left bank, going upstream, was +lined with scrub and swamp grass. The right bank began to change, the +swampy area giving way to good ground that rose slightly from the +water's edge. Soon the right bank was nearly three feet above the water, +and the scrub had given way to an occasional tree, and some grassland +that hadn't been mowed this year. + +Then Calvert's Favor came into view and Rick caught his breath. It was a +stunning plantation house. The tall columns made Rick think of pictures +of the Old South, but as the boat turned slightly and more of the house +came into view, he saw that it had a strictly Maryland character. +Attached to the largest portion of the house, the one with the columns, +was a slightly smaller section, with a still smaller section completing +the picture. It was a "telescope house"--the kind that the Eastern Shore +natives referred to as "big house, little house, and one in the middle." + +A broad sweep of lawn, broken only by flagstone walks and trees, +extended from the creek's edge to the house. The trees were ancient +dogwoods, with a single huge willow for extra shade. There was a small +pier extending into the creek, and from the rotted pilings next to it, +Rick saw that the original pier had been much larger. + +A white barn stood at a short distance from the house. A barn of that +size, Rick thought, meant a pretty substantial farm. He searched for +signs of life and saw none. There was a boat, he noticed, an outboard +skiff perhaps fifteen feet long, pulled up on the bank under an oak tree +at the edge where the lawn met uncut field. A lawn table and chairs +under the big willow looked inviting, and he speculated that Merlin and +friends must spend considerable time there. Some of the chairs were of +the padded variety, covered with plastic wet from the morning dew. + +Scotty pointed to the roof of the mansion. "Must be a ham radio operator +there. Look at that hay rake." + +Both Rick and Steve had the same thoughts as they stared at the tall +antenna, with its cluster of small rods joining a single main bar at +right angles on top of the pole. The antenna might be needed for +fringe-area television--or, on the other hand, it might be a +communications antenna, as Scotty had said. + +"Looks interesting," Steve said. + +The creek flowed only a little distance past the mansion before it +became so narrow that Orvil Harris had to turn for the trip downstream. +As the crab boat came abreast of the mansion again, Rick looked to the +other side of the creek and saw the duck blind. It wasn't exactly +opposite the house, being designed so that gunners in the blind would +shoot diagonally across the creek and downstream, rather than near the +house itself. + +The blind was on stilts, made of board, with a big "picture window" +without glass through which duck hunters could fire freely. It was +designed for entry by boat, and there was a line of poles sticking up +from the water that marked the boat's docking place. In season, the +entire blind including the poles would be covered with a screen of fresh +foliage, so that hunters, blind, and boat would seem like a natural +object to any duck that flew by. + +Rick saw that the entrance, at the point where the boat would nose in, +was downstream from the mansion, at the back corner of the blind. Anyone +approaching from the swamp behind the blind could enter unseen from +Calvert's Favor. + +Not until they were back at the cove did any of them speak. + +"That antenna was odd," Steve said. "Did you ever see anything like it, +Rick?" + +"Not exactly," Rick admitted. "It could be for TV, although it's an +unusual design, or it could be some kind of ham rig, as Scotty said." + +"Or it could be something else," Steve concluded. + +"No sign of a flyin'-saucer launcher," Orvil Harris said. He was stoking +his battered brier. + +Rick grinned. "I wouldn't know one if I saw it." + +"Well, that wraps it up," Steve said. "Let's get aboard the runabout and +head home. I've got to make a plane." He shook hands with Orvil Harris. +"Glad to have met you after waving at you for so long." + +"Likewise. Now, you let me in on this if you can. I'm Link's only kin +hereabouts, so I feel responsible, so to speak. Call me up. I'm in the +phone book. I'll keep crabbin' in this creek until further notice, so +you can find me here until midmornin' any day." + +"We'll let you know if anything comes up," Rick agreed. + +Scotty borrowed a boat hook and pulled the runabout closer, then he +stepped to the forward deck while Steve and Rick got into the seat. +Scotty pulled up the grapnel while Steve started the motor. In a moment +they were waving to Harris as the runabout headed for home. + +It was full daylight now, and the rim of the sun was just above the +trees on the horizon. + +"Two items from the morning's work," Scotty summed up. "We know how the +mansion can be watched, and we have an odd kind of antenna. Anything +else?" + +"We have an ally," Rick reminded. "Orvil Harris." + +"We bought him on pure faith," Steve pointed out. "It isn't often I +stake the game on a man's face, but if Orvil Harris isn't a sound +individual, I'll lose my faith in human nature." + +Back at the farmhouse, Steve made fresh coffee and toast. While the boys +relaxed sleepily, he went to a closet and brought out a case and a +leather gadget bag. + +The boys sat up and watched while he opened the case. Rick gasped. It +was a telescope, a marvelously compact reflector type, precision made +and very expensive. Rick had often studied the ads of this particular +model, and he looked at it with some envy. He could hardly keep from +picking it up. + +Steve opened the gadget bag and brought out a Polaroid camera and set of +rings. Then he returned to the closet and brought back a sturdy tripod +with a geared head. + +"Here's the equipment," he said. He took the telescope from its padded +case, and screwed its base to the tripod, then he adjusted the tripod +until it was standing securely. + +"Watch this," he commanded. "You'll have to do it, because you can't +carry the whole thing assembled." + +Using the rings, which were adapters, he fitted the camera to the +eyepiece of the telescope. "That's all there is to it. You focus the +'scope eyepiece by turning this knurled knob. Then you set the camera to +infinity, adjust the iris for the proper light, and put the camera in +place. Any questions?" + +"What aperture?" Rick asked. "Normal exposure?" + +"Make it one f-stop less than you'd use if you were taking the picture +through a regular camera with a long lens. Anything else?" + +Scotty grinned. "It's pointless to ask what you want us to do with this. +We're to get pictures of that antenna--from the duck blind." + +"Plus anything else that looks interesting, including the occupants," +Rick added. + +Steve spread his hands in an expressive gesture. "What more could an +instructor want than students who know the answers before the questions +are asked? I won't even tell you to be careful, because I know you +will." + +"We will," Rick assured him. + +"All right. Listen, boys, we have no idea what we're up against, but we +do have some facts." Steve ticked them off on his fingers. "One, flying +objects originate at the mansion. There's no other place on the creek +that seems likely. Two, the house is inhabited by a man who doesn't like +questions. Three, said man has a bodyguard who gets rough. Four, one man +already is missing, perhaps because he got curious. Enough said?" + +The boys nodded soberly. + +"Then go to it, whenever you feel like it--after you've dropped me at +the airport, that is. Be here by four this afternoon. If I don't call, +meet the five-o'clock flight. If I do, it will mean I've gotten tied +up." + +Steve hesitated. "Just one more thing. Be _really_ careful. All I have +is a hunch, but that hunch tells me we're up against something +dangerous. If Link Harris is dead, as he probably is, there's a fair +chance he was murdered." + +The agent's keen eyes met theirs in turn. "Don't get into a spot you +can't get out of," he concluded. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +The Duck Blind + + +Orvil Harris had described the opening to the hidden waterway, but when +the boys examined the line of reeds and marsh grass there was no sign of +it. "He said thirty yards downstream," Scotty remembered. + +Rick was at the wheel of the runabout. "Climb out on the bow," he +suggested. "Take the boat hook with you. I'll just keep nosing in until +we find it." + +"Okay." Scotty took the short, aluminum boat hook from its fastenings in +the small cockpit, stood up on the seat, and stepped over the windshield +to the bow. For a moment he surveyed the shoreline from his higher +vantage point. "There's a place that looks promising." He held the boat +hook out like a spear, pointing. + +Rick put the runabout in gear, and moved forward at idling speed. +Looking over the side, he could see the bottom clearly. They were in +only two feet of water, and the outboard was stirring up mud at the +stern. + +"No good," Scotty called. "That one doesn't go anywhere. Try upstream +another six feet." + +Rick turned the boat, watching for the opening Scotty had spotted. He +saw it a moment later. "Looks too small," he called back. + +"I think it opens up. Go ahead slow." + +The runabout nosed up to the almost solid line of tall swamp grass, and +Scotty leaned forward. "I think this is it. Take it easy." + +The heavy grass rubbed on both sides of the boat, but nothing impeded +its progress. The runabout pushed through the brown-green swale until it +was almost enclosed by the grass. Then they were through, into a narrow +channel with high grass on both sides. It was hard for Rick to see ahead +because of the turns, and Scotty served as his eyes, motioning from one +side to the other as the channel shifted. + +Rick wondered if the sound of the outboard motor could be heard at the +mansion, and decided it probably could not. The heavy marsh grass was a +good sound baffle and the motor was relatively quiet. He leaned out, +trying to see ahead. There were many birds in the swamp, and next to the +boat a surprised snapping turtle looked up briefly, then scurried into +the mud for cover. + +The channel was narrowing now. Scotty looked back and drew his hand +across his throat in the old signal to "cut." Rick instantly killed the +motor. + +"I'll pole us," Scotty said softly. He began using the boat hook as a +pole, digging it into the bank and pulling the runabout ahead. Finally +he stopped, and wiped sweat from his face. "This is about as far as we +can go." + +Rick took a swipe at a black fly that bit him on the arm. "Okay. Let's +collect the gear and get started." + +Scotty tied the boat to a projecting root while Rick took the equipment +from its place under the seat and put it within reach on the forward +deck, then jumped ashore. His feet hit apparently solid ground, but kept +right on going down into a foot of ooze. + +He lifted one foot that was a black blob of mud, tried to locate more +solid footing on which to place it, and gave it up as a bad job. He +leaned over and took the telescope case and tripod. + +Scotty picked up the Polaroid camera and their binoculars and came +ashore, sinking into the swamp as Rick had done. He grinned wryly. +"We're up to our knees in this mystery already." + +Rick lifted a foot with five pounds of mud clinging to it. "If we get in +it up to our hips, we'll have a fine time getting out. How far do you +think it is to the duck blind?" + +"Maybe twenty-five yards. Not much more than that, maybe less. Come on." + +Slowly, because of the need to haul each foot out of the mud, the boys +started through the swale. The marsh grass was over their heads, forming +a thick screen. The grass, however, was no handicap to the biting flies. +Within a few seconds each boy was carrying equipment in one hand, using +the other to fight off the swarms. An occasional mosquito added to their +discomfort. + +The muddy ooze thinned, then gave way to higher ground. The marsh grass +was less thick and there was an occasional clump of willow. Rick studied +the terrain ahead, and in a moment caught sight of dark-green foliage +among the brown tips of swamp grass. In a few more feet he made out the +tops of trees, and then the glint of sunlight on the aluminum of the +antenna they had come to photograph. + +Scotty had seen it, too. He stopped and the boys consulted. + +"We're about twenty yards too far upstream," Scotty guessed. + +Rick estimated as best he could. "I think you're right. Let's stay on +high ground and head downstream a little. We must be almost there." + +Scotty turned and Rick followed, waving uselessly at the cloud of +insects. He was grateful for the advice Steve had given them to wear +long trousers and long-sleeved shirts. If they had been wearing shorts, +the insects would have had free access to several square feet of bare +hide. + +Both boys counted steps automatically, and after twenty paces +downstream, Scotty turned toward the mansion once more. They pushed +through the tall grass into thick mud, then into water with a deep muddy +bottom. A few more steps and the grass thinned. Scotty stopped and +motioned Rick back. They moved sideways, then forward again, and emerged +with the duck blind between them and Calvert's Favor. + +Rick thought to himself that it had been pretty good navigation, +considering that most of the journey had been blind, in grass over their +heads. Apparently Scotty thought so, too. He turned and gave Rick a big +grin, then headed for the rear of the duck blind. + +The water deepened, washing off some of the mud. Rick reached down and +splashed a handful on his face. It was warm. He saw a wet black head +emerge from under the duck blind and speed for shore. It was a startled +water rat. Alerted by the small splash of their coming, the rodent +decided to take better cover. Then they were at the corner of the blind +where the entrance was located. + +The floor of the blind was level with their chests. Rick looked in. +There wasn't much space, since the blind had been built to provide only +a place for hunters to sit, wait, and then shoot from kneeling or +sitting positions. + +Both boys put their equipment on the dry wooden floor. Then Rick swung +himself up and pushed the equipment back to make room for Scotty. For a +moment they sat on the floor, resting. Coming through the swamp had been +exhausting work. + +After a few moments' rest, Rick moved to the side of the duck blind and +found a small opening, a square window about six inches on a side, that +had apparently been made to give the hunters a view in that direction. +The opening was near the forward, upstream corner, and it looked out on +Calvert's Favor. + +Merlin the mysterious and his two close companions were sitting under +the willow tree enjoying something liquid from tall glasses. As Rick +watched, a fourth man, evidently a servant, brought a tray on which a +silver pitcher rested. The boy could see the trickles of water cascading +down the outside, and knew they were caused by moisture condensing on +the cold metal of the pitcher. He moistened his lips. A fine pair of +dunderheads, he and Scotty were. They had come without even a canteen of +water. + +"Easy shot," he whispered to Scotty. "Let's set up and take the +pictures, then get out of here. I'm getting thirsty just watching them." + +Scotty adjusted the tripod, while Rick took the telescope out of its +case with reverent hands. It was a beautiful and delicate piece of +equipment, Steve's personal property, and he appreciated the trust the +agent had placed in them by allowing its use. He fitted the instrument +to the mounting screw on the tripod, then aimed it through the six-inch +window. When he squinted through the eyepiece, he saw only willow +branches, but, by keeping his eye in place and cranking the geared +tripod head, he quickly aligned the telescope with the trio under the +willow. + +[Illustration: _Scotty fitted the camera to the telescope_] + +The telescope had a fixed focus, and was designed for looking at stars. +Consequently, the field of vision was extremely narrow at the short +distance across the water, and Rick could only manage to get Merlin and +his small, insignificant-looking companion into the frame. What's more, +they were upside down, as is common in reflecting telescopes. The boy +knew there was an erecting prism in the case, a device that would put +the image upright, but it couldn't be used with the camera. Anyway, it +wouldn't matter, since the print could be turned over. + +He studied the faces in the upside-down position. The telescope gave him +an even better close-up than at the restaurant. Again he groped for the +identity of the white-haired man, but it eluded him. + +Scotty tapped him on the shoulder and motioned that the camera was +ready. Rick moved aside and his pal quickly fitted the camera to the +telescope and tightened the mounting rings. Rick nodded to indicate that +the telescope was on target, and Scotty tripped the camera. + +The advantage of the Polaroid camera is that the picture can be seen +within seconds. Scotty quickly went through the simple routine, and +within a quarter of a minute the boys were looking at the photo. It was +an excellent close-up, but a trifle dark. Scotty opened the iris on the +camera another stop and Rick rechecked the alignment. Scotty snapped the +picture and processed it. This time it was perfect, only slightly hazy +because of the rising heat waves across the hundred yards of distance. + +Rick readjusted the telescope for a full view of the third man. His +picture was added to the others. Scotty wiped both with fixative and put +them on the floor to dry. + +The antenna was next. Rick focused on it without difficulty, but the +field of view was so narrow that he couldn't see all of it. They would +have to photograph it in two sections, then fit the prints together. + +Five minutes after their arrival at the duck blind, they were back in +the swamp, the pictures protected in a plastic bread wrapper Rick had +brought. They cut directly across the swamp and emerged, hot, sticky, +and dirty, only a few yards from the boat. They stowed the equipment +wordlessly, then poled backwards into the wider channel. It was too +narrow to turn, so Rick started the motor and backed out with great +caution. + +Once in the clear, they headed at top speed for Steve's, tied up at the +pier, and plunged into the water without even bothering to remove their +clothes. Their only precaution was to empty their pockets. + +Rick luxuriated in the coolness of clean water, then stripped to his +undershorts and threw his sodden clothes onto the pier. Only when he was +sure he had washed off the last of the clinging mud did he pull himself +up to the houseboat cockpit, Scotty following. + +They toweled and put on clean clothes, then carried the equipment back +to the farmhouse. Two bottles of Coke apiece from the refrigerator had +them feeling normal again. Over the last one, they studied the photos. + +"I don't think we've ever known Merlin," Rick said thoughtfully. "We've +seen him, but we don't know him." + +Scotty scratched a mosquito bite. "Think he might be some kind of public +figure?" + +Rick looked up sharply. "I think you hit it! If that's true, we should +be able to get him identified easily." + +"Steve could do it through JANIG," Scotty suggested. + +"It would take too long. He won't be home until tonight, and the picture +wouldn't reach JANIG until tomorrow. Then it would take a day to check +it out." + +"Are we in a hurry?" Scotty asked. + +Rick chuckled. "I am. But don't ask me why. Look, I'll bet Duke or Jerry +could identify it by going through the newspaper morgue." Their +newspaper friends were owner-editor and reporter for the Whiteside paper +back home. + +"They're on vacation," Scotty reminded him. Once each year, the paper +was turned over to a friend of Duke's, a former newspaperman turned +professor of journalism, who used the occasion to give some of his +students practical experience. + +That was true, Rick remembered. Neither Duke nor Jerry would be +available. Who else did they know who could help? Suddenly he snapped +his fingers. "I've got it! Ken Holt would help, if we could get the +picture to him." + +Ken Holt, the young newsman whose adventures were favorite reading for +Rick and Scotty, had once asked Spindrift for help, and Rick had given +him a set of pocket-size radio transceivers of the kind known as "The +Megabuck Network." + +"Sandy Allen is a photographer," Scotty pointed out. "He might know +these people." + +Rick took a chair next to the telephone and dialed the operator. "A +person-to-person call," he stated, "to Mr. Ken Holt, at the _Brentwood +Advance_, Brentwood, New Jersey." He put his hand over the mouthpiece. +"Let's hope he and Sandy aren't off on an assignment somewhere." + +Luck was on their side. Ken Holt was in, and he was delighted to be of +help. "Put the picture in the mail," the young reporter suggested. "If +you make it airmail, special delivery, we'll have it first thing in the +morning. With luck, we might even get it tonight. We'll phone you as +soon as we have an identification. Incidentally, the Megabuck units +worked like a charm, as I told you when I wrote. Thanks a lot." + +"Glad they were helpful," Rick replied. "We'll hurry to town and get the +picture in the mail right away." + +He hung up and nodded at Scotty. "We'll get the picture ready, and take +it to town when we go to pick Steve up. If we're a little early, the +letter probably will go out on the early evening plane to Washington." + +Scotty nodded. "What time is it?" + +Rick glanced at his watch. "Nearly three. We'll be ready to take off as +soon as Steve calls, or doesn't." + +"If he calls, that means he won't be back," Scotty reminded. + +"No matter. We'll go to town anyway, and have an early dinner." + +Rick had envelopes and letter paper on the houseboat. He wrote a brief +note to Ken, addressed the envelope, and printed AIRMAIL SPECIAL +DELIVERY on both sides, then enclosed the best picture of Merlin and +sealed it. Scotty spent the time on a small repair job, taping up the +neoprene gasoline hoses that carried fuel to the houseboat motors. By +the time he was finished, it was nearly four. The boys went into the +house to wait. + +Steve called on the dot of four. "Rick? ... Steve. I'm sorry, fellow. I +have a little more to do on this case, and I'll have to stay over. +Everything going all right?" + +Rick briefed him quickly on the day's events and Steve replied, "It +takes about half an hour for a letter to make the early evening plane. +Allow enough time." + +"We will," Rick assured him. "Anything new on the sighting data?" + +"Not yet. I sent the cards to the computing center, but they won't have +time to run the data through until tomorrow or the next day. Make +yourselves at home, and don't spend all your time on flying stingarees. +Get in some fishing and swimming." + +Rick assured him that they were enjoying the vacation and would try to +get in some fishing. He hung up and turned to Scotty. + +"He'll be in tomorrow on the same plane. He wants us to get in some +fishing." + +Scotty chuckled. "I thought he knew you better than that. Give you a +mystery to chew on and there's no room for anything else in that thick +Brantish skull." + +"We'll solve this one," Rick said confidently. "Then we'll fish." + +Scotty just grinned. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +Ken Holt Comes Through + + +Somewhere in the oak trees across the creek a cardinal sang his lovely +evening song. An osprey, etched in black against the dark blue of the +sky, whirled in lazy circles watching the water below. A muskrat +appeared briefly, his sleek head making a V of ripples in the calm +water. + +Rick and Scotty, sprawled comfortably in beach chairs on the lawn in +front of Steve's house, sipped the last of their iced tea, and watched +the movements and listened to the sounds in companionable silence. Both +boys, admitting that, for the immediate present, they were slightly +overdosed with rich food, had agreed to settle for a sandwich and iced +tea. A brief stop at a store en route back from the post office had +provided the necessities. + +Rick was physically relaxed, but mentally active. It was characteristic +of him that he never let go of a puzzle until he had found a solution, +or had tried all possibilities and been forced to admit defeat. He was a +long way from defeat at the moment. The case of the flying stingaree was +just getting interesting. + +"What are the flying stingarees?" he asked quietly. + +Scotty shifted position in his chair and looked at Rick quizzically. +"You don't expect an answer. But I can tell you a few things they are +not." + +"Tell away," Rick urged. + +"They are not flying saucers, aircraft, kites, sting rays, birds, fish, +or good red herrings. Beyond that, deponent sayeth not, as the legal +boys say." + +"Uh-huh. And why are they not flying saucers?" + +"For the same reason they're not aircraft. If you recall all the talks +with people who've seen them, they don't maneuver, and they don't travel +very fast. They appear--or they're noticed, let's say--and they just get +smaller and smaller until they vanish. They move, but not much." + +Rick nodded. "The circle we drew around all the sightings doesn't cover +a very large territory. All the sightings have been within that circle. +People had to look toward Swamp Creek to see the objects. Yet, they did +something interesting. They grew smaller. What makes things seem to grow +smaller?" + +"Apparent size decreases with distance," Scotty replied promptly. + +"Sure. And how do you get distance, when the sightings are all within a +circle only a few miles in diameter?" + +"Only one way. With altitude. The things had to be going up." + +Rick agreed. "That's how I figure it, too. It also explains why the +circle of sightings is so small. Above a certain altitude, the objects +are no longer visible. Or they're not so visible that they attract +attention. I suppose we could work out some calculations. How large an +object can be seen readily at what distance? Then we could apply a +little trigonometry and figure their size." + +"We could," Scotty agreed, "but do we need to? Let's assume the object +you saw was typical. How big was it?" + +Rick thought it over. He had had only a quick glimpse, and the +background had been the gray of the storm. His vision had been obscured +because of the rain. "Maximum of ten feet across and maybe eight tall. +It was probably less." + +"Okay. So the reason sightings are confined to this area is because the +objects are fairly small. When people see them, they're relatively +close, and fairly low. Even the small planes that fly from the airfield +are much bigger than the flying stingarees, but when the planes go over +at about five thousand feet, they seem tiny. At that altitude the flying +stingarees must be at the limit of really good visibility." + +"I read you loud and clear. So the objects are sent from Calvert's +Favor, and they climb. They don't climb straight up, though. The wind +carries them. The reason I think so is that the one I saw must have been +driven by the wind, right down the creek toward me. It didn't climb +until it got away from the funneling effect of the creek and into the +river, then it went up pretty fast. At least it seemed to have risen +fast when I looked over the top of the boat at it." + +Scotty crunched an ice cube. "We're getting somewhere. There's only one +kind of unpowered, vertical rising thing I know of. Are you with me?" + +Rick finished his drink. "Balloon," he said crisply. + +"On the beam," Scotty approved. "The only thing that doesn't fit is the +shape." + +Rick asked, "What's a balloon? It's just a gas-tight container. We're +used to thinking of balloons as spheres, because it's the most efficient +shape for internal pressure. But a balloon can be any shape. Another +thing--balloons for high altitudes aren't fully inflated on the ground. +Maybe the flying stingarees have a different shape when they get higher +and in less dense atmosphere where the gas distends them." + +"An odd shape could be used as camouflage, too, if you didn't want +people to recognize the balloon. But why would a strange assortment of +characters like Merlin and company send up balloons?" Scotty wondered. + +Rick smiled. "I've been wondering that myself. Would they send up a +balloon that didn't carry something?" + +"I don't know. Was the one you saw carrying anything?" + +Rick sat upright. "Maybe it was! You know, I haven't even thought of it +since then, but I think there was a splash when it went by. Something +sort of clanged off the rail over me, even if it didn't dent the rail. +Do you suppose the thing dropped its payload right next to us?" + +"You'll have to decide that," Scotty said. "If you heard something +bounce off the rail, then a splash, I'd say there might be a pretty good +chance that's what happened. I couldn't see any marks on the rail when +we looked." They had checked the rail during the first day at Steve's. + +Rick closed his eyes and made himself remember what it had been like +when he went down the catwalk to the bow. His mind drew a picture, and +he saw himself bent forward into the wind. In his memory he felt the +slashing rain, the slipperiness of the wet anchor line. He could +visualize the water whipped into dimpled wavelets by wind and rain. He +saw the flying stingaree loom, and saw himself dropping flat. There had +been a clang as something hard hit the rail! There _had_ been a splash! + +He went over it again, searching his memory for details he had forgotten +or which had only registered vaguely at the time. He studied the shape +and texture of the object he had seen so briefly. He saw its red eyes +open and glare at him, saw the extended claws reaching.... + +He came out of his chair with a yell, arms extended to defend himself. + +Scotty stood next to him in the darkness. "Hey, take it easy, Rick! I +didn't think I'd startle you so when I shook you." + +Rick stared. "Did I fall asleep? I must have. I was trying to remember, +and suddenly I was dreaming about red eyes and claws--" + +Scotty laughed softly. "If you've got to have nightmares, at least do it +in comfort. Let's go to the boat and go to bed." + +Rick dreamed no more of the flying stingarees. In the morning he +couldn't have said what his dreams had been about, except that they had +been pleasant. + +In the bright glare of morning, the whole thing seemed dreamlike. It was +preposterous to imagine that flying objects, probably balloons shaped +like stingarees, were launched from a famous mansion that dated back to +the days of the early Maryland colony. But the sighting data couldn't be +ignored. Dreamlike or not, something strange was going on at Calvert's +Favor. + +The boys breakfasted in the farmhouse, reducing Steve's supply of eggs +substantially and wiping out the bacon reserve. "We'll have to shop +sometime today," Rick observed. "Steve has plenty of food here, but we +don't want to use it when there's a store so close." + +"Sure," Scotty agreed. "But when? It may have to wait until we go after +Steve. We can't very well leave the house, or at least both of us can't. +Ken Holt might call." + +Rick nodded and poured himself a cup of coffee. He had thought of that. +They had to give Ken time to get the picture and check it out. By the +latest, they should hear before noon--unless the job turned out to be +very difficult. That would leave four hours before they would have to +leave the house to pick up Steve. Four hours was time enough for the +investigation Rick had in mind. + +After breakfast they settled down with the data sheets and notebook to +review them once more. But only one additional fact emerged. Two people +thought, but weren't absolutely sure, that they had seen a spurt of fire +from the flying stingarees. Rick wondered if they had seen a sudden +flare of sunlight from some highly reflective part of the object. + +It was two minutes before nine when the phone rang. Both boys jumped, +but Rick got there first. "Hello?" + +"Rick? ... This is Ken. Why don't you give us something hard to do? The +envelope arrived three minutes ago, and I was just taking the picture +out when Sandy walked in. He took one look and asked what I was doing +with a snapshot of Lefty Camillion. The hair is white and the mustache +is gone, but it's Lefty." + +Rick gasped. "My sainted aunt! Of course! I should have known it +myself." + +"There's more. Sandy recognized Lefty's small friend too. This is an odd +one, Rick. The man is Dr. Elbert K. Drews. He was fired six months ago +by Space Electronics Industries. It was a big story for us, because the +plant is located in the next town. The reason he was fired came out +during the monopoly investigations. Turned out he had been selling the +firm's industrial secrets to its competitors. It was a shock, because he +had such a big reputation as an electronics wizard. He got some kind of +national prize a year ago for developing a new high-speed system for +something. Let's see--here's my note. It says, 'Dr. Drews was the +originator of a new and unusual system for the rapid telemetry of data +from space. The system is considered remarkable for its compactness and +speed of operation. The ground installation is scarcely larger than a +console-model television set.' Hope that means something to you, Rick." + +"Thanks a million, Ken. It seems to fit, but I'm not sure how." + +"Let us know if you find out. And if we can do anything else, you know +the phone number." + +"We'll call if anything comes up. Thanks again, Ken." + +Rick hung up and stared at the phone thoughtfully, trying to fit this +new information into the scheme of things. Scotty had been sitting on +the edge of his chair since the conversation started. He said, with some +exasperation, "Well? Out with it!" + +"Mr. Merlin is Lefty Camillion. His pal is an electronics wizard who was +fired by Space Electronics Industries for selling industrial secrets to +the firm's competitors." Rick rapidly sketched in the rest of the +conversation. + +Scotty sank back into his chair. "His hair was black, and now it's +white. He must have been keeping it dyed, and decided to go natural. And +he shaved off that mustache. Probably that was dyed black, too." + +"You're right." Rick shook his head in dismay. Lefty Camillion, whose +first name was Thomas, was a notorious crime syndicate leader who had +come into prominence about two years ago during Senate investigations of +racketeering. In three days Camillion had become a television +personality, of sorts, when it became clear that he apparently was +responsible for a number of murders and a thousand lesser crimes, +although he himself had not done the actual killings. There was +insufficient evidence to jail him, but enough to deport him. He dropped +out of sight while his lawyers were fighting the deportation +proceedings. Now he had shown up again, on the Eastern Shore. + +"A crime syndicate chief, a crooked scientist, flying stingarees, an old +mansion, a peculiar antenna, and a missing crabber. What does it add up +to?" Rick demanded. + +Scotty shrugged. He didn't answer. There was no answer--yet. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +On the Bottom + + +There were three wooden cases stored in the full-length closet in the +houseboat cabin. Rick and Scotty took the two bulkiest to the cockpit +and opened them to disclose full skin-diving equipment. The boys had +made the cases themselves, to be carried like suitcases. Each held a +single air tank, regulator, mask, fins, snorkel, underwater watch, depth +gauge, weight belt, equipment belt, and knife. The third case contained +spears and spear guns, but they wouldn't need those in searching for the +object that had splashed near the houseboat. + +While Rick checked the equipment, made sure there was sufficient air in +the tanks, and put on the regulators, Scotty searched for a heavy stake +and something with which to drive it. He found a sledge hammer in +Steve's workshop. At the edge of the woods was a pile of saplings that +had been cut to make a fence. He chose a sapling that would serve as a +stake and took it back to the boat. + +One of the spare lines that the houseboat carried was quarter-inch +nylon. Scotty fastened one end of the small rope to the sapling, about +halfway up, and secured it with a timber hitch. Then he wound the rope +on the sapling as smoothly as possible. + +Rick finished checking the equipment and announced that he was ready. + +"Same here," Scotty replied. "Let's get into swim trunks." + +As the two changed, Rick asked, "Suppose we find something, but can't +get it up without help? How do we mark the place?" + +Scotty paused. Normally they would simply attach a line to a float and +secure the float to the object. But a float would attract attention. +"Take bearings?" + +Rick shook his head. "The boat will be swinging at anchor. It might be +hard to get good bearings. Would a piece of fish line work? We could tie +it to the object, carry it to the shore, and secure it to something +underwater. The line would sink. Later, we could just drag until we +caught the line." + +"It would work," Scotty agreed. "There's a new spool of heavy line on +the shelf in the closet. Fifty yards. That should do." + +"Especially since the most we would need is fifty feet," Rick agreed. +"I'll stick it in a belt pocket, just in case." + +Back on deck, Rick started the houseboat's outboard motors and listened +critically. They were operating smoothly. Scotty walked up the pier and +untied the bowline. At Rick's signal, he stepped aboard on the foredeck, +bringing the line with him. Rick cast off the stern line, pushed the +houseboat away from the pier, then put the motors in gear. + +The trip to Swamp Creek was a familiar one now. Rick cut corners, +knowing he had enough water under the keel, heading directly for the +creek entrance. Scotty came back to the cockpit and joined him. + +"Do you suppose Orvil Harris will be around?" + +Rick shrugged. "It's pretty late for a crabber. He's probably gone by +now." + +"I wonder if he'll ever see any flying stingarees come out of the +creek." + +Rick shook his head. "Most of the sightings are in the late morning or +late afternoon. Only a couple were around dawn." + +While the houseboat moved across the Little Choptank, Scotty checked the +tide tables. He reported that the tide was coming in. It was about one +hour from high tide. Rick had been studying the chart. "No problem," he +said. "Mean low water averages four feet in the cove, with seven feet in +the middle. Think your stake will be long enough?" + +Scotty had placed the sapling with its winding of rope on the cabin top. +He estimated its length again. "Depends on how deep the mud is. If it's +more than three feet, the top of the stake will be under water." + +"Three feet is a lot of mud," Rick said. "It's likely a lot less than +that." + +He turned into the creek mouth, throttling back. It would be hard to +anchor precisely where the houseboat had been anchored that first night, +but he was sure they could find the spot within twenty feet. Scotty went +up on the bow and got the anchor ready. + +"Use about thirty feet of line," Rick called. He took the houseboat to +the exact center of the cove, as closely as he could estimate, then put +the motors in reverse to kill the speed. When it fell to zero, he yelled +to Scotty. Scotty lowered the anchor and made it fast, then hurried back +to join Rick, who backed off until he felt the anchor dig in. + +It was silent in the cove with the motors off. "I'll start," Rick +offered, and at Scotty's nod he picked up his Scuba and slipped into the +harness. His weight belt was next, then his fins. Finally he slipped the +mask strap over his head, and put the mouthpiece in place. He took a +couple of breaths to make sure he was getting air, then walked to the +edge of the cockpit and fell backward into the water, letting his tank +take the shock of landing. He slipped the mask off, took the mouthpiece +out, and spat into the mask to prevent fogging, then he rinsed it, put +it on, and replaced the mouthpiece. + +Scotty had taken the sapling from the cabin top. He handed it to Rick, +who dove with it, thrusting the sharpened end into the mud far enough so +that the sapling stayed in place. + +Rick surfaced again and swam to the boat, which had drifted a few feet. +Catching the leg of one motor, he pulled the boat back to where the +sapling projected above the surface. He held the boat in position while +Scotty took the sledge and drove the sapling down until its top was only +a few inches above the water. Rick tested the pole. It was firm. + +He removed the mouthpiece, treading water. "Looks okay. I'm going to +start." + +"Good luck," Scotty called. + +Rick submerged and swam down, using the pole as a guide. The rope, +attached to the pole, was perhaps two feet above the bottom. He freed +the end of the rope, unwound a few feet, slipped the end through his +belt, and secured it with a slip knot. Then, hands extended, he began +the slow work of covering the cove bottom inch by inch, searching for +the thing that had splashed. + +The boy swam in an ever-widening circle, the rope unwinding from the +sapling as he moved. The unwinding of the line, which he kept taut, +ensured that he would cover new ground each time he rounded the pole, +but without missing any. He couldn't see, because his hands stirred up +mud as he traveled. Only his sense of touch told him what was on the +bottom. He wasn't afraid of grabbing a crab or an eel. All underwater +creatures with any mobility at all get out of the way as fast as +possible. He knew the compression wave caused by his movement would warn +all living creatures. + +His groping hands identified various pieces of wood, all natural, and +assorted other objects including an old tire. There were cans, some of +them food tins that had been opened, and some beverage cans, +recognizable because of their triangular openings. Once he found a +section of fishing pole. + +It was a long, tedious job. The world closed in on Rick and there was +only the murk outside his mask and the rhythmic sound of his own +breathing. Only his hands, constantly probing the mud, were in touch +with reality. He lost all sense of time. Once, to see how much ground he +had covered, he pulled himself to the pole by the line, estimating his +distance. He was about fifteen feet from his starting point. He returned +to the full extent of the line and started the round again, after +looking at his watch. He had to hold it close to see the dial through +the murk. He had been down only twenty minutes, although the time seemed +much longer. + +Ten minutes later his hand swept over something smooth. Instantly he +turned in toward the pole, and swam back around the circle for perhaps +ten feet. Then, covering the ground again by crawling along the bottom, +he felt for the object. His fingers touched it. His first impression was +of something cylindrical, but he made no attempt to pick it up. He +needed to explore it thoroughly, first. His breathing was faster, and he +knew his pulse had accelerated at the moment of discovery. If this +continued, he would use air too fast. He willed himself to slow his +breathing, and for a few seconds he stopped altogether. + +In that instant, Rick heard a slap on the water, then another. He +waited, holding his breath. There was a pause, then more gentle slaps. +He counted them. + +One, two, three, four--the signal for danger! + +He and Scotty had long ago agreed that four sounds underwater would be +the danger signal. He reacted instantly. The fishing line was in a +pocket on his equipment belt. He took it out and pulled line from the +spool. Then, probing deeply with one hand, he pushed the line under the +smooth object, reached across and down with the other hand. When his +hands met, he passed the line from one to the other and pulled the line +through. Now it was around the object. He tied the line quickly, then +rolled over on his back and looked upward at the surface. He could gauge +the position of the sun, even though he could see no details. Using the +rays filtering through the murk as a guide, he oriented himself. + +"Which bank?" He thought quickly. Danger could only come from the +mansion, and that was on the south bank. He turned and swam north, going +slowly, paying out line from the spool. Now that he was traveling in a +straight line, he covered the bottom quickly, and in less than a minute +he was in shallow water. He stopped, afraid that his tank would show +above the surface. + +It was clearer in the shallows. He made out the line of a branch, or +root of some kind that thrust its way through the surface. It would +serve. Quickly he passed the spool around it and made a knot, then he +pushed the spool itself into the mud and turned. + +Now to find the boat again. Cruising slowly, he headed in the general +direction, rising slightly as he swam. Finally, he found the boat by its +shadow and swam under it to the stern. Again orienting himself by the +sun, he made sure that the boat would be between him and the south bank. +He surfaced and pulled off his mask. + +Scotty was swabbing the deck of the cockpit as casually as though +trouble was the last thing on his mind. Rick wondered briefly if he had +imagined the danger signal, or had mistaken some other sound for a +signal. Then Scotty hailed him. + +"Where are all the clams?" + +Rick's mind raced. Obviously someone was listening. Was the someone on +the boat, or ashore? + +"I only found one," he called back. "I don't believe there are enough in +this cove to bother about, no matter what those fishermen said." + +"Did you dig deep enough?" Scotty asked. + +"As deep as I could without a shovel. The mud is two feet thick down +there." + +"Well, you might as well come aboard. I guess if we're going to have +clam chowder, we'll have to buy clams from a commercial boat." + +Scotty wouldn't invite him aboard if there was any danger, Rick knew. He +accepted the hand Scotty held down and got aboard. + +He surveyed the situation quickly. There was no sign of any danger. + +"Pretty murky down there?" Scotty asked. + +"Like swimming in ink." + +"We'll try again out in deep water. It should be clear near the river +mouth." + +"Suits me," Rick said. "I never did think we'd find clams in this cove. +The mano boats dredge in deeper water than this." + +"Maybe the fishermen didn't want us stirring things up where they clam. +Come on in and I'll fix you some coffee. I made it while you were down +below." + +"Okay." + +Once inside the cabin, Scotty said softly, "Two men. On the shore. One +is the bodyguard. I've never seen the other one before. Both of them +have rifles." + +Rick considered. "They couldn't possibly know the thing--whatever it +is--dropped in the water here. Or could they?" + +"I don't know. Anyway, they're suspicious. Did you find anything?" + +"Just as you signaled. How did you signal, by the way?" + +"With the mop pail. Four taps with the bottom on the water surface. Then +I filled the pail and began swabbing down." + +Rick nodded. "I don't know what I found. A cylinder, maybe two inches in +diameter, maybe less. Smooth. I got the fish line around it and carried +the line to the shore. We'll have to come back later." + +"We certainly will." Scotty's eyes sparkled. "But for now, let's up +anchor and get out of here." + +"How about the stake with the rope on it?" + +"The tide's still coming in. It will be completely under the water at +high tide. We'll have to avoid it, and warn Harris if we don't get back +tonight." + +An idea was beginning to form in Rick's mind. "Okay," he said. "Let's +get going." + +Within minutes the houseboat was on its way out of the cove, the two +boys acting normally, as though no one was observing their departure. +Rick saw no one on shore, and not until they were sunward from the cove +entrance did he see the sparkle of sunlight on binocular lenses. Scotty +had been right, as usual. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +Night Recovery + + +On the way back from the airport, Steve Ames listened intently to the +report of the day's activities, but delayed comment until supplies had +been purchased, and a dozen eggs turned into an omelet that a French +chef might have praised. + +Rick was eager to discuss the whole affair with Steve, but the young +agent was adroit at fending off questions without being rude, and +finally the boy gave up. + +Over after-dinner coffee, Steve smiled at both of them. "End of today's +lesson in patience, which is one virtue neither of you has developed +sufficiently. Okay, where are those two pictures?" + +Scotty whipped them from the breast pocket of his shirt and handed them +over without comment. Steve studied them for long minutes, then went to +a table and took a magnifying glass from the table drawer. He placed the +pictures directly under a lamp and studied them with the aid of the +magnifier. + +"It _is_ Thomas Camillion," he said finally. "Your friend Sandy Allen +has a sharp eye. I wouldn't have known him, either." + +That surprised Rick. Steve had never met the owner of Calvert's Favor, +but because of Camillion's notorious reputation, Rick had been certain +that Steve would recognize him on sight. + +Steve saw the expression on Rick's face. He grinned. "You disappointed? +First of all, my knowledge of Camillion is not greater than yours. I've +never seen him in person, or had any reason to study him. Crime isn't +JANIG's business. Second, one expects to see a duck near water, or a +squirrel near a tree. Criminals are generally found near centers of +crime. They're not common in historic mansions, far from large +population centers, so one doesn't expect to find them there. My reasons +for not recognizing Camillion, without Allen's identification, are +exactly the same as yours." + +"It's just that we expect you to know everything," Scotty said +half-seriously. + +"Then I'm glad you're learning better. Joking aside, it's interesting +that Camillion should be here. It's even more interesting that his +sidekick is a crooked electronics engineer or scientist. When you add +flying stingarees to that combination, it totals up to something novel +in criminal ideas. But what?" + +"We thought you might have an idea," Rick prodded. + +"Yes and no," Steve said ambiguously. "What ideas do you have?" + +Rick stared at him accusingly. "Are you holding out on us? Do you know +something we don't?" + +"Not yet," Steve said, and grinned at their expressions. "I mean that +literally. I think I may possibly know something, but the evidence isn't +in yet. It's that computer run I mentioned. We should have the results +tomorrow." + +"All right," Rick said. He knew better than to push Steve for more +information. The agent went in for speculation only when it served a +purpose. With only a hint of evidence, he avoided guessing until the +evidence had been checked out. "We figured out that the flying +stingarees probably are balloons," Rick reported, recapitulating their +conclusions of the previous evening. + +Steve nodded approvingly. "Very good reasoning. Now connect up an +electronics crook, Camillion, and that peculiar antenna." + +"The balloons carry radio equipment," Scotty said promptly. "The antenna +picks up their signals." + +Steve nodded again. "That's reasonable. Now, why do the balloons carry +radio equipment? And why are they launched?" + +"We're like a dog chasing his tail," Rick said with a grin. "We're not +getting anywhere, but we're covering plenty of ground." + +"Maybe we are getting somewhere," Steve corrected. "You found something +today that may be the balloon payload. You also found out that people +from the mansion were interested in your activities, but didn't want to +be seen. It's obvious that the object you found must be recovered. +You've got a plan. I'm sure of it." + +"We do," Rick agreed. + +Scotty added, "First of all, we have to warn Orvil Harris. If he goes +crabbing in the middle of the night, he might foul a prop on the stake +we left there." + +"The people in the mansion can't be suspicious of Orvil," Rick went on. +"He goes crabbing there every day. They must be used to him by now. +Suppose we call him, to warn him about the stake, and to see if he'll +help out." + +"He'll be glad to help," Scotty said. + +"Help how?" Steve asked. "By providing cover?" + +Rick nodded. "Exactly. Scotty and I will suit up, so our skins won't +show at night, and have our Scuba equipment on. Harris could come by and +take the runabout in tow with us in it. We would drop off near the creek +entrance and push the runabout into the channel where it would be +hidden. Then we would swim into the cove and recover the object. With +two of us, it would be a cinch to find the fish line." + +"If the thing is too heavy to swim with," Scotty went on, "we'll hand it +into Orvil's boat. Of course we'll pull up the sapling and hand that to +Orvil. If the gadget is light, we'll swim back to the runabout with it, +push the runabout away from the cove into the river, and then get aboard +and come home." + +Rick concluded, "With Orvil's motor going, no one would hear our +bubbles." + +Steve had followed the plan carefully. "Fair enough," he agreed. "It's a +good plan. No one will see you enter the cove, and no one will see you +leave. There will be only Orvil Harris catching crabs as usual." + +Scotty spoke up. "We could make one change, Steve. You could be with us, +either in the water or in the runabout." + +Steve shook his head. "No thanks, Scotty. I have some business of my own +later tonight. You carry out your plan and I'll carry out mine." + +"Is your business connected with ours?" Rick asked. + +"Yes, but I'm going to follow a different line of investigation. If it +brings results, we'll compare notes at breakfast." + +"We could postpone recovery and help you tonight," Scotty suggested. + +Steve smiled warmly. "Thanks, but no thanks. What I have to do is for a +lone hand. Rick, you phone Orvil Harris and make arrangements." + +Rick consulted the telephone directory and turned to Steve. "Any chance +the line may be bugged?" + +"I doubt it. You might ask Orvil if he's on a party line, though. If he +is, be careful. If not, go ahead and talk." + +Orvil Harris had a private line, so Rick described their adventure in +the cove and asked for the crabber's help. Harris responded at once, as +the boys had known he would. + +"I'll come by at half past three. You hook on and I'll tow you to the +mouth of the creek, then you cut loose. We'll fix up the details when I +see you." + +Rick thanked him and hung up. "All set," he reported. "But we'll get +little sleep tonight." + +"It's only about eight," Steve pointed out. "You could go to bed right +away." He managed to say it with a straight face. + +"We could," Scotty agreed. "But we won't. How about a little television +tonight?" + +Steve waved a hand. "Take your pick. Medical drama, crime drama, western +drama." + +"The purpose of television drama," Rick declared, "is to provide an +escape from the real world into the world of fantasy. So no crime drama +for us because that's the real world. We will watch a medical-type +show." + +"Western," Scotty said. "Trot-trot, bang-bang." + +"Medical." Rick held out a hand dramatically. "Scalpel! Sponge! Quick, +nurse, tighten the frassen-stat! The patient is going into nurbeling +aspoxium!" + +"Western." Scotty crouched, hand curved at his thigh. "Make your play, +Brant!" + +"Medical." Rick tapped an imaginary stethoscope on his palm. "I regret +that you have all the symptoms of thickus headus, Mr. Scott." + +Steve held up both hands. "Whoa, Mr. Scott. You too, Dr. Brant. As the +only impartial participant, I will select. We will improve your minds by +finding a panel show about the problems of agriculture in Basutoland." + +The boys groaned. + +It turned out to be an entertaining TV evening, with one good show +following another, and the late show an exciting sea adventure filmed +many years before the boys were born, but one of their favorites from +other late-night movies. The three had no intention of staying up to +watch it, but lingered for the first reel--and were lost. + +It was the same with the late, late show, a horror movie so badly done +that it served as a new type of comedy. By this time, all were too tired +to go to bed, and by mutual consent, they watched the program to the +end, then rallied in the kitchen for sandwiches and coffee. + +By the time the boys had retired to the houseboat, checked their +equipment, and climbed into diving suits of black neoprene with helmets +and socks, Orvil Harris was coming down the creek. + +Scotty checked the runabout outboard to make sure it would start easily +and that there was plenty of gas, while Rick put their tanks and +regulators aboard. Then, with a final farewell to Steve, the boys got +aboard Orvil's boat, secured the runabout to the stern, and started off. + +On the way to Swamp Creek, Rick and Scotty described their plan to the +crabber. Harris slapped his thigh. "Now we're gettin' somewhere. You +just lay the pole and rope up on the gunwale as I go by, and leave the +rest to me. If the thing on the bottom is too heavy, I can pull it in. +Got a line to put on it?" + +Rick admitted they had forgotten that detail. "We can cut a length off +the pole line." + +"No need. Plenty of short lengths in that rope locker behind you. Take +what you need." + +The boys each selected a ten-foot length of half-inch nylon rope, +sufficiently long for hauling the object up, if need be. + +Harris asked, "Sure you can find your way underwater in the dark?" + +"We have wrist compasses with luminous dials," Scotty explained. + +"Good. Any danger of you comin' up under me?" + +"No. We'll see the white bubbles from your prop. They'll be +phosphorescent." Rick pointed to the crab boat's wake. Thousands of tiny +bay creatures, most of them almost invisible bits of jelly, flashed blue +white as the prop disturbed them, so that the wake twinkled as though +studded with stars. + +They fell silent as Harris crossed the Little Choptank, the steady beat +of his motor nearly lost in the darkness. Rick could not make out +details or landmarks, but Harris knew the way as well as he knew the +inside of his own boat. Rick enjoyed the coolness of the night, and even +the heavy scent of the salted eel the crabber used as bait. + +Harris tapped each boy on the shoulder in turn, and pointed. They could +barely make out the entrance to the creek. They nodded, and shook hands, +then Rick pulled the runabout towline and brought the smaller boat to +the crabber's stern. Scotty stepped aboard and held out a hand. Rick +joined him, casting off as he embarked. In a moment they were adrift. + +It took only five minutes to get their tanks in place, put on fins, and +go through their routine of checking weight belt releases, making +certain that the emergency valves were in the "up" position on the +tanks, and ensuring that regulators were operating smoothly. Rick +slipped into the water with only a small splash, and Scotty followed. +They took the runabout's bow rope and swam easily and quietly. + +There was no hurry. Orvil Harris would need a little time to put out his +lines. He would avoid the pole they had placed; its top would be above +water at this stage of the tide. + +Scotty led the way to the opening into the small waterway through which +they had gone to the duck blind. He found it without difficulty, and for +the thousandth time Rick marveled at his pal's sure sense of position +and direction, even in darkness. The boat was pushed backward into the +opening and tied to a root. + +Rick rinsed his mask, put it on, and slid noiselessly under the water. +Scotty followed in a direct line, letting Rick pick the course, and +following by the feeling of Rick's flipper wash on his cheeks. + +It was like swimming in ink. Rick kept his hands out in case of +unexpected underwater objects, but forged ahead at a good speed. He kept +track of his own rate of progress through the water by timing the number +of flutter kicks per minute. At the count of fifty he turned to the +left, heading directly into the creek's mouth. He could hear the steady +beat of Orvil's motor. When he estimated he had covered the proper +distance, he stopped and let Scotty catch up with him. He put a hand on +his pal's shoulder and pressed down, a signal to hold position. Then, +very carefully, he swam to the top of the water and lifted his head +above the surface. He could see the sapling a dozen yards away, slightly +to his right. Orvil was putting out lines upstream, near the point where +Swamp Creek widened into the cove. + +Rick went under again and tapped Scotty. He headed for the pole, hands +outstretched to intercept it. His left hand hit it and held. Scotty came +alongside and they swam to the bottom. Both gripped the pole, put fins +flat against the muddy bottom, and heaved. The pole came up without +difficulty. While Scotty held it, Rick wrapped rope around it until the +line was fully wound again. Orvil's motor was nearer now. Rick took one +end of the pole while Scotty took the other. They operated entirely by +touch; nothing was visible except the luminous dials of their compasses. +The motor sound was muted in the burbling exhaust of their bubbles. + +It was almost possible to stand on flipper tips with head above water. +The boys thrust their heads out with care, and saw Orvil bearing down on +them, peering forward anxiously. He waved when he saw the two helmeted +heads. There was a slight gleam from the masks even in the darkness. As +he came alongside, the boys held the pole overhead, water churning under +their flippers. Orvil bent and took it, lifted it on board, and +continued on his path. + +The boys went under again, operating on a prearranged plan. This time +they swam side by side, hands searching for the fish line. Since Rick +knew the approximate position where he had tied it to the projecting +stump, he led the way toward shallow water, hoping to intercept it. + +The water shoaled rapidly as the boys approached the shore. Scotty's +hand suddenly gripped Rick's, and Rick felt the line. + +At the same instant, Rick was aware of bubbles in the water, a trail of +faint phosphorescence shooting downward past his mask. Then something +glanced from his tank and he heard a sharp clang like a brazen bell in +his ears. The impact rolled him partly over, and as he turned, another +line of phosphorescence streaked past his eyes. + +The skin on his back crawled in the blazing moment of recognition. They +were being shot at! + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +The Night Watchers + + +Scotty, who had realized they were being shot at, was pulling at Rick's +arm in frantic jerks, trying to lead him back into deeper water. Rick +needed no urging. His fins thrashed in the shallows as he drove +desperately for the safety of the deepest part of the cove, his hands +keeping contact with the bottom. + +The increased pressure on his eardrums told him they had reached the +sanctuary of deeper water where the velocity of bullets would be +absorbed before they could strike. He was bewildered. What had happened? +Who was shooting? For a moment it crossed his mind that Orvil might be +doing the shooting, but he dismissed it. He had no proof that the +crabber hadn't suddenly turned on them; he just didn't believe it. + +Yesterday Scotty had seen watchers on the shore, presumably from +Calvert's Favor. Apparently the watchers were there now. The boys had +gone into shallow water, and their tanks had shown above the surface, +drawing fire. It was the only reasonable explanation. Probably the night +watchers had seen the pole handed up to Orvil, or had seen the faint +light reflecting from their masks. + +What had happened to Orvil? + +One thing was certain. They couldn't stay on the bottom indefinitely. + +Rick consulted his wrist compass and closed his fingers on Scotty's +shoulder. He led the way toward the mouth of the cove. + +Somewhere on the shore, he thought, the night gunmen were watching the +line of bubbles. The boys' only hope of escaping detection had been to +avoid drawing attention to themselves. Rick knew that was impossible +with watchers on the shore. Watchers at four in the morning was one +thing he hadn't expected. What had drawn them? + +Suddenly he knew. While he, Steve, and Scotty had examined the mansion +through glasses from Orvil's boat, Merlin and company, or a single +guard, had been watching them. They had drawn attention not only to +Orvil, but to the time of day when the guards would need to be +especially alert. + +Bubbles would attract the guards' attention, not only because they +foamed on the surface, but because they would leave a glow of +phosphorescence. How far would bubbles and glow be visible? He had a +mental image of the watchers following the shoreline. They couldn't +cross the creek or its mouth to where Steve's runabout was stowed, but +they could shoot that far, if they could see the bubbles. + +The only way for Scotty and him to escape was to eliminate the bubble +track. That meant not breathing. Not breathing was possible for a short +time. During the interval, they could swim into the marsh grass and use +it for cover. + +Rick's thoughts raced. He tried to recall the shoreline. There must be +some promontory, some outcropping of grass, behind which they could +hide. Perhaps the best way was simply to swim directly out from the +creek mouth until distance hid the bubbles and darkness shrouded two +black-covered heads. + +There was a problem, though. Scotty's air tank hadn't been used until +now. Rick's had, during the initial search yesterday. He estimated +quickly. Less air is used at shallow depths than at deeper depths. The +water depth for most of the way was shallow enough so that tank time was +essentially the same as swimming on the surface. He had had at least +forty-five minutes of air to begin with, and it might be stretched to +fifty minutes. He probably had used no more than forty minutes of air, +total. But the remaining ten minutes would not take them out into really +deep water in the river itself, and then back to shore. There was not +enough air to take them to Steve's place. + +He had to make up his mind. Scotty, undoubtedly, was doing some fast +thinking along the same lines. Their thoughts usually followed the same +track in such situations. Rick touched Scotty's side and forged ahead, +heading straight out. He counted his kicks, estimating distance covered. +When he reached a count of three hundred he angled right, toward the +north shore of the Little Choptank. They were well out of the creek now. + +When the water shoaled, he found Scotty again and pressed him down; +then, very gingerly, he put his head above water, half expecting to feel +the shock of a bullet. + +There was a fallen tree nearby. He submerged again, touched Scotty, and +led the way to its shelter. A cautious survey told him they were some +distance from the creek mouth, and certainly invisible behind the +waterlogged trunk and its load of leaves and other debris. + +He put his lips to Scotty's ear. "Wonder what happened to Orvil?" + +"We've got to find out," Scotty whispered back. + +"Yes, but how?" + +"We go overland." + +Of course! They were on the same side as the boat, and not far away. +There was the stretch of marsh between the channel and the creek. They +could cross that, and overlook the creek. "Let's go," Rick whispered. + +They inched their way along the fallen tree to the bank, then crawled +slowly into the shelter of the marsh grass. The grass grew in a narrow +swath at this point, with a tangle of scrub and trees deeper inland. +They kept going until the scrub concealed them, listening for sounds +from the creek. There was the beat of a motor. It sounded like Orvil's +boat, and Rick thought it probably was. But would Orvil continue +crabbing? Again the doubt came. Had the crabber tried to kill them? He +couldn't believe it. + +The boys stopped and slipped off their fins. "Lead on," Rick said +softly. + +"Okay. When we get to the boat, we'll wade across the channel and +continue right on through the marsh grass to the bank of the creek. We'd +better be as quiet as possible." + +"I'm with you." + +Carrying their swim fins, the boys started through the dense growth, +Scotty in the lead. It was hard going. Mosquitoes whined in a steady +swarm around their heads, but with the neoprene suits and helmets, only +their faces and hands were exposed. Each traveled with one hand +outstretched to fend off branches, the other hand waving the fins to +chase the insects from their faces. The outstretched hands were wiped +frequently across the suits to get rid of the pests. + +Rick was careful to step where Scotty stepped. When it came to silent +tracking at night, the ex-Marine had few peers. + +The two skirted the shore, keeping within the tree belt, until more +marsh grass warned them that the water was near. The ground gave way to +mud, and the mud to water. They stepped into the narrow channel up which +they had gone to the blind. They now were less than two yards from the +runabout. Scotty turned at once, and keeping to the water, moved +upstream. Rick followed, careful not to splash. The darkness was less +dense than under the trees, but he could not make out any details. + +The channel ran roughly parallel to the creek, with a strip of land +about thirty yards wide between the two. When Scotty estimated they were +even with the cove, he left the channel and moved into the marsh grass +again. Rick followed closely, careful to make no noise. In spite of +their best efforts there was an occasional sucking sound as his foot or +Scotty's pulled out of the muck, and there was a steady rustle of marsh +grass. He hoped that the sounds were drowned out by the steady chugging +of Orvil's motor. + +Scotty slowed to a cautious pace and Rick knew they were approaching the +creek bank. The marsh grass did not thin appreciably. Rick wondered if +the night watchers could see the tassels of the grass waving as they +approached, and decided that the small motion probably was invisible +against the high bank of trees farther inland. + +Rick stopped as Scotty turned. Soundlessly, Scotty lowered himself to +the mud, then inched ahead, moving each strand of marsh grass with care. +Rick followed suit, and crawled in Scotty's track until he saw the +glimmer of water. Then, moving with great caution, he drew alongside his +pal. They looked out into the cove through a thin screen of grass +stalks. + +Orvil Harris was crabbing, as unconcerned as though nothing had +happened. As Rick stared, disbelieving, the crabber's net swooped. + +The crab boat moved on, exposing a glow on the opposite bank. Rick +sucked in his breath. He could make out the forms of two men. One was +smoking a cigarette. Both carried rifles. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +Daybreak + + +Rick tugged at Scotty's suit, then crawfished backward through the marsh +grass until he was sure the night watchers could not see him. He stood +up, and Scotty joined him. Rick motioned toward their own boat. + +The boys made their way back through the swamp to the runabout in almost +total silence, each busy with his own thoughts. + +Orvil Harris was crabbing as though nothing had happened, while the +night watchers stood in plain sight on the opposite shore. Orvil must +have seen the shots fired, Rick was certain. Even if he had been looking +the other way, the first shot would have caught his attention. + +Or, Rick wondered, had Orvil tipped off the two guards that divers were +below? If so, the game was up. Once Merlin and company knew the payload +had fallen into the cove, they would be diving for it themselves, under +cover of guns. Merlin undoubtedly knew that the launching the evening of +the squall had gone wrong, but he couldn't know how, or where. + +But somehow, Rick didn't think Orvil had been a party to the shooting. +Maybe it was stubbornness, refusing to think the crabber was involved +just because they liked him. Or maybe it was because the crabber had no +reason for helping Merlin and his gang; at least Harris had no reason +known to Rick and Scotty. + +They reached the boat and conferred in whispers that were inaudible six +feet away. + +"Could Orvil have put the finger on us?" Scotty questioned. + +Rick shrugged. "I don't want to think so, and I don't. But I have to +admit it's possible." + +"If he's in with them, they'll be diving for the 'what's-it' at first +light." + +Rick glanced at the eastern sky. It was beginning to glow with the first +hint of daylight. "That's not long from now." + +"How are we going to recover it first?" + +Again Rick shrugged. "There's only one way. Go in and get it." + +"Under those guns?" + +"A diver on the bottom isn't in danger from the guns. I could find the +thing again without going into the shallows. That's what made us targets +before, because we took the easy way to locate the fish line by going +into the shallows near where I tied the line." + +"Let's see your tank," Scotty whispered. + +Rick unsnapped his harness release and swung the tank around. Their +probing fingers soon identified where the bullet had glanced off. There +was a dent, coated with silvery metal. + +"Lead," Rick said. "Part of the slug." + +"Good thing it didn't rupture the tank." + +Rick shuddered. "If it had, I'd have been out of air suddenly and +would've had to come up. Listen, Scotty. My plan is a simple one. I'll +take your tank, since you have the most air, and swim right into the +cove, find the 'what's-it' and swim out again. If it's too heavy to tow +far, I can at least wrestle it part of the way, and then bury it in the +mud. Meanwhile, you get the boat out where it's clear and be ready to +pick me up." + +"They'll see your bubbles, but they can't do anything about it with +rifles," Scotty pointed out. "One thing they can do, though, is jump in +after you. The cove isn't so deep that a pair of good swimmers couldn't +tackle you. The lung wouldn't improve your chances by much." + +"Too true," Rick observed. "But what else can we try?" + +Scotty thought it over. "Listen, we'll take the boat out right now. +You'll have to do the diving, because you know about where the thing is, +and I don't. When we get out, you go over the side. I'll run around to +the river, opposite where the guards are standing, and raise a little +fuss. That might draw their attention away from the cove." + +"Okay." It made sense to Rick. "They'll see both of us in the boat, but +they won't see me get out. Only you'd better plan our course. I have no +aching desire to collect a rifle slug where it hurts." + +"They may not shoot if they see we're leaving," Scotty pointed out. + +"Uh-huh. And they might shoot, anyway." + +"They might. But we'll be moving fast, and I'll swing that boat from +side to side like a swivel-hipped fullback. Let's get going. We don't +want too much daylight." + +Scotty unsnapped his harness and Rick took his pal's tank and regulator. +They put Rick's unit in the bottom of the runabout cockpit, along with +Scotty's fins and mask. Rick put on his own fins and made sure he was +ready to hit the water at a moment's notice. + +Rick went to the stern of the runabout and felt down the motor leg to +the prop to make sure it had not picked up any grass that might slow +them down. It was clear. Scotty, meanwhile, untied the boat and slid +into the driver's seat. Rick reached over the transom and pumped up the +gasoline tank to ensure plenty of pressure, then he waded to the side of +the boat and got into the seat next to Scotty. + +"Pull us out to where the nose is almost projecting beyond the grass," +Scotty whispered. + +Rick did so, by grasping clumps of marsh grass and pulling the boat +along. As the bow cleared the grass, Scotty punched the starter button, +threw the runabout into gear, and shoved the throttle all the way +forward. + +The runabout jumped forward, slamming Rick back against his tank. The +boat hit the shoal at the entrance and slowed for a long, breathtaking +moment, then the driving prop pushed it over into deeper water. The +stern went down and the bow lifted, and they were clear. + +Scotty swung the boat to the right, putting its stern to the cove. Rick +tensed, expecting any moment to feel the impact of a rifle bullet, +either in the boat or in his own body. There was no sound other than the +racing motor, and he knew it would drown out the crack of a distant +rifle. + +The distance from the cove entrance widened. "Get ready!" Scotty yelled. +"Lay flat and be ready to roll. I'll turn so the motor is moving away +from you. When I tap you, we'll be directly in line with the cove +entrance." + +Rick moved out of the seat, keeping low, and lay on his side along the +gunwale, facing Scotty. He put the mouthpiece in place and made sure he +was getting air, then pulled his mask down. He was ready. The impact +with the water would be hard, at this speed, but his tank would cushion +the shock. He tensed for the signal. + +Scotty swung the boat to the left, held it on course for a moment, then +began a shallow turn to the right. That way, the motor would be steering +itself away from Rick when he went over. + +The boat came abreast of the cove entrance and Scotty slapped Rick on +the shoulder. Instantly Rick rolled, one hand reaching for the back of +his head, the other grabbing his mask. He hit the water on his back, his +hand and the tank breaking the shock of the stunning impact. He threw +his legs upward, and his momentum took him under the water instantly. + +The racing motor receded, leaving him in silent darkness. He rolled over +into normal swimming position and consulted his wrist compass. The creek +entrance ran on a course of 80 degrees. If Scotty had gauged things +correctly, that course would take him into the cove. If Scotty hadn't, +Rick Brant would end up on the beach like a stranded whale. + +Rick considered. The boat was gone, and it was extremely unlikely anyone +had seen him leave it. The turn had caused the boat to tilt, lifting the +side away from him. He was certain that the guards had not seen the +maneuver. That being so, and taking into account his distance from the +creek entrance, he thought it would be safe to look and check his +course. + +He held the compass in front of his eyes, and rose to the surface. He +broke through slowly and without a splash. One look was enough. He +should have trusted Scotty. He was dead on course. + +Rick went to the bottom and began the long swim, counting his leg +strokes. He and Scotty had practiced estimating underwater distance by +the number and timing of their leg strokes. It wasn't an exact method, +of course, but it was practical. + +There were no underwater obstacles, and the depth was great enough. Rick +remembered from the chart that the entrance into the creek varied from +eight to eleven feet, dropping inside the creek mouth to about seven. No +bullet could harm him if he stayed on the bottom. If the night watchers +fired, the bullet would be slowed by the water. + +He heard the sound of a motor and recognized it as the runabout. The +sound faded again. Scotty was going through some kind of maneuvers. +Then, in a short time, another motor made itself felt, more than heard. +The slower beat identified it as Orvil Harris's crab boat. He was +nearing the cove! + +Like all divers, Rick's ears were sensitive to pressure changes. Sensing +when the depth lessened, he knew he had reached the cove itself. Now to +find the payload--if it was a payload. His groping hands began the +search. + +The first foreign object he touched was a cord. It was the wrong +thickness for his own line, and he felt along it until he came to a +soft, round mass, and knew he was touching one of Orvil's crab baits. He +grinned in spite of the mouthpiece. Wouldn't Orvil be surprised if a +diver came up hanging to his bait! + +He let the crab line drop and continued his search. Once, Orvil passed +within a few feet of him, and Rick wondered if the crabber had noticed +the air bubbles from his regulator. + +Rising ground told Rick he had reached the end of the cove. He turned +left and held his course for about twenty feet, then turned left again, +heading back toward the cove entrance. His hands never stopped moving, +probing the mud for a trace of fish line. He crossed another of Orvil's +crab lines, and kept going until pressure change told him he was back in +the deeper water at the creek entrance. He turned right again. A check +of his compass told him he was on course. + +His groping hands trailed over a thin line. He grabbed it, and stopped +his flutter kick. Then, moving with care, he turned and followed the +line. His pulse was faster now, and he rigidly controlled his breathing. +Fast breathing wouldn't do, and he would have to be careful not to let +out a sigh that would cause bubbles to gush upward in one big rush. + +A hand found the end of the line and the smooth cylinder to which it was +attached. Orvil passed very close, and Rick looked upward. He could see +the white circle of water around the single propeller. + +Now to find out what he had. His hands stroked it from one end to the +other. One end was rounded. The other was a circle with an odd-shaped +hole running into it. Rick poked his finger in, but couldn't feel the +end of the depression. The only protuberance on the thing was a band +near the rounded end. The band felt like metal, and had two rings +projecting from it. The rest of the cylinder didn't feel like metal. The +texture was that of a smooth plastic. + +Rick lifted the object gingerly. It was hard to estimate weight under +water, but he thought ten pounds would be about right. The total length +was less than three feet. It would be easy to carry. + +This time he needed a reciprocal compass course. It would be 260 degrees +going out. He oriented himself properly, picked up the cylinder, and +began the long swim back. He wondered if Merlin's guards were watching +his bubbles. He had seen no sign of bullets, but he hadn't been looking +for them. With Orvil's motor so near, it was likely he would not have +heard the slap of a bullet on the water. + +Pressure told him he was out of the cove. He breathed a little easier. +Now to count leg strokes again. He looked up, and saw that the surface +of the water was shining with light, the first rays of true daylight. +Scotty would have no trouble finding him. + +Because of the daylight, he continued on for a distance beyond where +Scotty had dropped him. No use giving the guards too good a shot. +Finally, exhausted, he surfaced. He lifted his mask and surveyed the +scene. + +Orvil Harris was still crabbing. Rick could see the boat, but the angle +was wrong for him to see the crabber at work. He turned slowly in the +water, and saw Scotty. The runabout was floating, motor off, about a +mile away. He lifted an arm. The glint of first sunrise turned the +lenses of Scotty's binoculars into a crimson eye, and Scotty waved back. +In a few seconds Rick heard the motor start and saw the boat racing +toward him. He kept his mouthpiece in place, and floated, waiting. + +[Illustration: _Now to find out what he had_] + +Scotty came alongside and reached down. Rick handed him the cylinder. +Scotty put it on the seat without even looking at it. He gave Rick a +hand and pulled him over the side. He asked anxiously, "Are you all +right?" + +"Done in," Rick said wearily. "But otherwise okay." + +"Let's get out of here." Scotty put the runabout in gear and headed back +toward Martins Creek. + +Rick sat down and picked up the cylinder. There was a gob of mud still +on it. He wiped it off with his hand and examined the thing. The +material was fiber glass set in resin, and it was designed so the +rounded nose could be removed. He didn't remove it, however. Instead he +looked at the other end, down into the hole with the puzzling shape. It +was like a cutout Star of David in shape, the hole gradually narrowing +until its apex was almost at the other end. + +The light dawned. Rick's lips formed the word. "Grain." + +Scotty was watching. "What?" + +"Grain," Rick said again. "This thing is a small solid-propellant +rocket!" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +The Empty Boat + + +The Swiss torsion clock on Steve Ames's fireplace mantle read 6:49. Rick +and Scotty, in slacks, shirts, and moccasins, sat in armchairs and tried +to stay awake. The small rocket, cleaned and dried, rested on a +newspaper on Steve's table. + +"Rockoon," Rick said. "That explains the funny antenna, the presence of +the electronics expert, and why the stingarees are launched." + +"Not to me, it doesn't," Scotty retorted. He sipped steaming coffee. +"What was that word you used? Grain?" + +Rick nodded sleepily. "That's what solid rocket fuel is called. It's +poured into the casing around a form. The form is withdrawn after the +fuel hardens. The shape is designed to give maximum burning surface. +Since the solid fuel is grainy, it's called grain." + +"Logical," Scotty replied with a languid wave of his hand. "All +perfectly logical. I also understand that a rockoon is a combination of +a rocket and a balloon. The balloon carries the rocket up to where the +air is less dense, then the rocket fires and breaks away. How does the +rocket know when to fire?" + +"Two ways. A barometric switch can be installed that will act at a +certain altitude, or a signal can be sent from the ground." + +"The antenna," Scotty said. "It can send a signal." + +"Sure." + +"I'm with you all the way, until you say this shows why the stingarees +fly. Why send up rockoons? What's the reason?" + +Rick forgot he was holding a coffee cup and waved his hand. He recovered +in time to keep from spilling the hot liquid on Steve's rug. "Scientific +research is usually the reason for rockoons. They carry experiments." + +Scotty snorted. "Are you telling me Lefty Camillion has turned +scientist?" + +"Nope." Rick yawned. "I take it back. We still don't know why the +stingarees fly. We only know what they are. Where do you suppose Steve +is?" + +"That's the eighth time you've asked. He'll be here when that business +of his is over." + +The telephone rang. Rick jumped to his feet and beat Scotty to the phone +only because he was four steps nearer. "Hello?" + +An unfamiliar voice spoke. "Stay away from the creek, and stay away from +the house. If you don't, your crab-catching buddy is going to be turned +into crab food." The line went dead. + +Rick turned, eyes wide. Suddenly he was no longer sleepy. "Did you hear +that? He said to stay away from the creek and the house, or our +crab-catching buddy would be turned into crab food!" + +"He must have meant Orvil Harris!" Scotty exclaimed. "Rick, let's get +going!" + +The boys started for the door at a run, but Rick stopped as his eye +caught the rocket. "Check the gas," he told Scotty. "Steve has a spare +can in the workshop. The runabout tank must be getting low. I'm going to +hide the rocket." + +Scotty left at a run. Rick picked up the rocket and surveyed the scene. +Where could he hide it? He hurried into the kitchen and examined the +cabinets, then shook his head. Too obvious. + +The refrigerator caught his eye. An apron at the bottom concealed the +motor unit. He knelt and pulled the apron free from its fastenings. +There was room next to the motor--unless the heat of the motor caused +the rocket fuel to burn. He opened the refrigerator and examined the +control, then turned it to "defrost." It wouldn't go on until they got +back. Hurriedly he put the small rocket in at a slight angle. It just +fit. He snapped the cover back in place and ran to join Scotty, who was +already in the boat. + +"Gas okay," Scotty called. "Let's go." + +Rick cast off and jumped aboard. Scotty started the motor and backed +into the stream, then turned sharply and headed toward the river. +Neither boy spoke. Their sleepiness was gone now, forgotten in their +fear for Orvil. + +Scotty held the runabout wide open, at its top speed of nearly twenty +miles an hour. They sped across the Little Choptank River straight for +Swamp Creek, with no effort at concealment. + +Rick saw a low, white boat some distance down the river and grabbed +Scotty's arm. "Isn't that Orvil's boat?" + +Scotty looked for a long moment. "It looks like it. Let's go see." + +They swung onto a new course, in pursuit of the white boat. It might not +be Orvil's, but it was like it. Both boys could now recognize the design +characteristic of boats built on the Chesapeake Bay. The boats were +known as "bay builts," and distinguished by their straight bows--almost +vertical to the water line--square sterns, and flaring sides. The design +was ideal for the shallow, choppy waters of the bay, and the boats could +take a heavy bay storm with greater comfort and safety than most +deep-water models. + +As they came closer both boys looked for the boat's occupant, but there +was no one in sight. Worried, Scotty held top speed until they were +nearly alongside, then he throttled down and put his gunwale next to +that of the crab boat. + +"It's Orvil's," Rick said. "But where is he?" + +"Get aboard," Scotty suggested. + +"Okay." Rick stood up and timed his motion with the slight roll of both +boats, then stepped into the crabber. Orvil's crab lines were coiled +neatly in their barrels, the stone crab-line anchors and floats were +stacked along the side of the boat. There were three covered bushel +baskets of crabs, and extra baskets stacked in place. One open basket +held a dozen jumbo crabs. Orvil's net was in its rack on the engine box, +but there was no sign of Orvil himself. + +Wait--there was a sign. Rick knelt by a small brown patch on the deck. +He touched it, and a chill lanced through him. Blood, and only recently +dried. Orvil's? + +Rick straightened. Someone had turned the boat loose, idled down to its +lowest speed. The stable crab boat had continued on course, heading out +the mouth of the Little Choptank into the wide bay. Only a bloodstain +showed that there had been violence aboard. + +The flying stingaree had claimed another victim! + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +Steve Waits It Out + + +The two-boat procession moved down Martins Creek at slow speed, Scotty +leading in the runabout and Rick following in Orvil's boat. The boys had +decided to take the crab boat back to Steve's, because it could not be +left adrift, and they did not know where Orvil berthed it. + +Both agreed it was senseless to return to Swamp Creek. That wouldn't +help Orvil, at least for now, and they might possibly be picked off by +the riflemen. + +As they neared the pier, Scotty moved out of the way while Rick backed +the big crab boat into the runabout's place. Before he had finished, +Steve was coming down the walk at a run. + +The agent took the line Rick tossed and made it fast, then caught +another line and secured the bow. Scotty backed in with the runabout and +Rick helped him secure the smaller boat to the side of the crabber. + +"Bumpers on the houseboat," Rick called. "Under the cockpit deck." + +Steve hurried to get them, and they were placed between the crab boat +and the runabout to prevent rubbing. + +The boys climbed to the pier and faced their friend. + +"We found the boat headed into the bay," Rick said grimly. "Bloodstain +on the deck, but no other sign of violence. We had a phone call telling +us to keep away from the creek and the house, or Orvil would be fed to +the crabs. There's no doubt about it. They have Orvil." + +Strangely, Steve replied, "Yes, I know. Come on in the house." + +The three walked up the path to the farmhouse, with Rick and Scotty +staring incredulously at the agent. How had he known? + +"Did you get a phone call after we left?" Rick asked. + +Steve shook his head. + +"Then how did you know?" Scotty demanded. + +Steve held up a hand. "Easy, kids. I'm trying to get my thoughts +straightened out a little and make some plans. We'll talk it over +shortly." + +Inside the house, Rick went at once to the refrigerator. As the others +watched, he pulled the bottom panel loose, took out the small rocket, +and replaced the panel. Then he turned the refrigerator control back to +normal and handed the rocket to Steve. + +The agent examined it wordlessly, his forehead wrinkled in thought. Then +he put it down on the kitchen table and investigated the state of the +coffeepot while Rick and Scotty stood first on one foot, then the other, +and fumed quietly. + +Steve decided more coffee was needed and proceeded to make it. Not until +the pot was heating did he motion the boys to sit down at the kitchen +table. He joined them, turning a chair around and straddling it, his +chin resting on his hands on the back, his eyes alert. + +"Testing our patience again?" Rick asked acidly. + +Steve's warm grin flashed. "Sorry, kids. I was working over a few facts +in my head, trying to make them add up. Okay, let's talk. Start by +telling me about last night." + +The boys reported, taking turns. "At first we thought Orvil might have +told the riflemen guards we were on the bottom," Rick said finally, "but +that's out. He's a victim, not a member of the gang. I saw his boat just +before Scotty picked me up, but I couldn't see him." + +Scotty picked up the tale. "After Rick dropped off, I made a high-speed +run out into the river, then turned and headed for a spot on the north +bank opposite where I thought the guards were. I got in close to shore +and throttled down, deliberately giving them a chance at me if they +wanted to take it. There weren't any shots, but I saw one of the guards. +The visibility wasn't very good, so I propped the extra tank up in the +seat and put my headpiece and mask on it, hoping any watchers would +think there were two of us. I don't know whether they were fooled or +not." + +"Pretty smart," Steve approved. + +"Thanks. I ran back out into the river and fished around in the locker +under the seat. You had a few old wrenches there, and some rags. Well, I +owe you a wrench. It was the biggest one, which means it isn't used very +often on an outboard, anyway." + +"Just so long as it wasn't my size seven-sixteenths wrench," Steve said +with a grin. "Go on." + +"It wasn't. I wrapped rags around it and tied them with a hunk of line, +then searched for matches. I finally found a paper folder in the glove +compartment. I had to open the gas tank and let out pressure to get any +gas on the rags, and it wasn't easy, standing on my head in the cockpit. +What I really needed was a Coke bottle. I could have made a Molotov +cocktail by filling it with gas and using the rag for a fuse. Well, I +made another run inshore and watched for the boys with rifles. They +didn't show up. I got as close as I could without grounding, touched a +match to my bomb, and heaved it into the marsh grass. My eyebrows took a +beating." Scotty rubbed the slightly scorched areas. + +"I wanted to set the marsh on fire, but the blaze was only a small one. +I figured if the grass would burn, the riflemen would have to run +upstream to safety. But the stuff only charred in a circle. Anyway, it +scared them. They came running to stamp it out, and one of them took a +shot at me. But I was nearly a mile out from the creek by then, and he +didn't even come close." + +"Let's hope I never have you two for enemies," Steve said fervently. + +Scotty concluded, "I decided Rick probably had been in and out of the +cove by that time, so I moved to where I could watch with binoculars, +putting the sunrise behind where I thought he would appear. I knew I +could see him better against the light. Finally up he popped, and away I +went, and here we are." + +Rick ended their recital. "We got back and took off our diving suits, +then went for a swim with a bar of soap. When we were clean, except for +my hands, which got stained by the mud, we dressed and came into the +house. We were sitting down enjoying coffee and trying to keep awake +when the phone rang. How did those hoods get the number, anyway?" + +"That's not hard," Steve said. "It's probable that Camillion's boys +started checking up on you the moment you showed interest. My car is +known at the local gas stations. It would be just a matter of asking who +owns a convertible of that description. Name and telephone directory add +up to the right number. Watching you enter Martins Creek would cap the +information. You could be seen easily with glasses from the river shore +opposite the cove." + +The agent got up and turned down the stove as the coffee began to +percolate. "My tale is pretty short." + +"Wag it, anyway," Rick suggested. + +Steve put a hand to his forehead. "Gags like that at this time of day +cause shooting pains. Please be attentive, and not waggish." + +"Ouch!" Scotty exclaimed. + +Steve sat down again. "After you were safely on your way I changed to +dark clothes, smeared a little black goo on my face, and took off for +Calvert's Favor. I drove to within a half mile and parked the car in the +woods, then hiked. The first thing I came to was a chain-link fence. It +took some time to see if it was wired for an alarm--and it was. So I had +to find a tree with a limb that overhung the fence. I'd taken the +precaution of carrying a rope. I found the tree, fixed the rope to an +overhanging limb, and down I went." + +"We could have postponed recovering the payload and helped you," Scotty +said reproachfully. + +"Sure you could. But I'm used to operating alone, and I was interested +in what you might find in the cove. Anyway, I approached from behind the +barn and had to take cover when two men went by. They had rifles. They +headed down the peninsula toward the cove. I scouted around, but no +other guards were in sight, so I started with the barn." + +Steve paused. "That is quite a barn. No hay, no oats, no horses. But it +has the loveliest dish antenna in it you've ever seen." + +"A microwave dish?" Rick gasped. + +"Exactly. It's mounted on a truck, and I suspect the electronic gear is +inside. I couldn't get a good look. There are also little cubicles +inside the barn, probably horse stalls, and I could hear a man snoring +in one of them. There wasn't much light, and I couldn't use my little +flashlight beam too freely, but I did get a look at several gas bottles +racked along one wall. They were big ones, of the kind used for +commercial gases like propane or oxygen." + +"Or hydrogen?" Scotty asked quickly. + +"Or hydrogen," Steve agreed. "And that's probably what they contain, for +inflating the balloons." + +He got up, turned off the coffee, and poured three cups. "Along about +that time, I heard rifleshots. You can imagine what I thought. I had a +vision of two bodies sinking slowly into the mud. If I'd had a weapon, I +think I'd have run down to see what was going on. But common sense got +the better of me, and I figured it was highly unlikely that a pair of +divers could be picked off with rifles if they were underwater. I was +sure you had sense enough to stay down. So I left the barn and went to +the house." + +"You actually went in?" Rick asked, his eyes wide. + +"Sure. It was safe enough. The gang was sleeping upstairs and the two +guards were interested in you and Orvil. No papers were left where I +could get them. There's a built-in safe, but I'm no Jimmy Valentine who +sandpapers his fingers and opens boxes by touch. I couldn't do anything +with it. Finally, I figured all had been seen that could be seen, and +left the house. I could hear a motor racing, and I recognized the +runabout, so I knew you were still alive. I retired to the woods behind +the barn and headed for the riverbank. I saw Scotty hurl his homemade +bomb." + +Scotty shook his head. "I didn't see you." + +"You weren't supposed to. I decided Scotty must be creating a diversion, +and that meant you, Rick, were still diving in the cove. I took off for +the cove, keeping a weather eye out for the guards. There was plenty of +cover along the bank, so it wasn't hard. I got a good view of the +festivities. After the fire was stamped out, the two guards walked up to +the bank of the cove and waited until Orvil got close, then they pointed +their rifles at him and invited him to come closer still. He didn't have +much choice." + +Rick thought that was an understatement. + +"They questioned him for a while. Who were the divers and what were they +after? Orvil played dumb. He said he knew nothing about divers and of +course he had seen bubbles. He always saw bubbles. Marsh gas was rising +all the time. He couldn't understand what all the shooting was about." + +"Good for Orvil," Scotty muttered. + +"He put on a pretty good act, saying he didn't know what they were +shooting at, but the guards weren't having any. They finally made him +pull up his lines, throw his bait overboard, and get everything +shipshape. Then one of the guards invited him to step ashore. Orvil +balked and took a swing at the nearest one and got a rifle across the +head. He dropped to the deck. That must be how the stain got there. They +slapped him back into consciousness and made him get out. One guard held +a rifle on him while the other put his weapon down and got in the boat. +He took the boat out into the middle of the cove, aimed it toward the +river, and put it in gear, then dove over the side and swam ashore. The +boat headed out and the guards walked Orvil back." + +"So he's alive," Rick said with relief. + +"Probably. I waited until the parade went by, then fell in line. They +took Orvil into the barn, and I managed to get a look through a window. +They tossed him into one of the horse stalls and locked the barn door. I +decided it was time to leave." + +Steve sipped his coffee and made a face as it burned his tongue. "You +can imagine how I felt. If one had gone away, I could have jumped the +other. But two with guns, and me with not even a rock--I was dead +certain to end up with Orvil. Besides, I couldn't take the chance." + +Rick stared. If Steve felt he couldn't take a chance on rescuing Orvil, +there had to be a good reason. The only reason Rick could think of was +that Steve had decided there was more at stake than Orvil himself. + +"We know where Orvil is," Scotty pointed out. "We can go after him. This +time we'll be armed." + +Steve shook his head. "Sorry. I wish it could be like that, but we're +not engaged in a personal vendetta. Orvil may be out of there by +tonight, or he may not. He'll have to take his chances." + +One thing had been bothering Rick, aside from Steve's untypical attitude +about rescuing Orvil. "You haven't accounted for all your time. You +could have reached here before we did if you had started back right +away." + +Steve shook his head. "I didn't. I went to the airport and used a public +phone booth by the side of the road to call Patuxent Naval Air Station. +In twenty minutes I had a Navy jet fighter on the Cambridge field. I +handed the pilot the pictures you took and told him what to do with +them, then I made another call to my office in Washington to tell them +the pictures were on the way and to look them over and take action +accordingly. We'll be seeing the results pretty soon." + +The young agent stopped smiling. "Your little mystery has turned into a +case for JANIG, kids. I'm pretty sure of my facts, but I'll know +definitely before noon. Right now, you'd better finish your coffee and +get into bed. You'll need sleep if things start to pop. That rockoon +idea of yours about cinches things." + +Rick blurted, "If it's a case for JANIG, there must be security involved +somewhere. Is Wallops Island involved somehow?" + +"Go to bed," Steve said sternly. "By the time you wake up, I'll have a +lot more than guesses, and I'll give you the details then." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +Crowd at Martins Creek + + +Rick and Scotty awoke to find four newcomers at Steve's house. Steve +introduced them to Dave Cobb, electronics specialist; Joe Vitalli and +Chuck Howard, JANIG agents; and Roy McDevitt from Wallops Island. + +McDevitt, who had just driven over from the rocket range, was a tall, +lean engineer dressed in slacks and a spectacular sport shirt emblazoned +with tropical flowers. He shook hands cordially. "You're Hartson Brant's +boys. We've certainly enjoyed having your family over at the island. +When Barby and Jan leave, the whole base will go into mourning." + +Rick grinned. "Somebody loses, somebody wins. We're anxious to have them +back with us again." + +Vitalli and Howard greeted the boys as old comrades. Although they had +had no chance to become well acquainted, the two agents had been part of +the JANIG team during the case of _The Whispering Box Mystery_. + +Dave Cobb, who was scarcely older than the boys, had been hastily +borrowed from the Naval Research Laboratory in Washington. He spared no +time for greetings other than a cordial wave, and immediately got to +work on the rocket Rick had found in the cove. + +The group pulled chairs up to the kitchen table on which Cobb was +working, and watched. + +Cobb studied the rocket for a few minutes, then took a pointed tool and +pressed it into a spot five inches below the rounded nose. He rotated +the cylinder and pressed a similar spot on the other side. Rick saw a +thin line appear around the rocket below where Cobb had pressed. + +The electronics specialist gripped the cylinder above and below the thin +line and twisted. The nose of the rocket came off. Cobb pointed to a +pair of metal prongs that extended out of the nose into the rocket +casing. "Contacts," he said. "They press against strips inside the +rocket casing. The whole assembly acts as a dipole antenna." + +No one commented. Cobb took a tiny screwdriver and removed two screws +from a metal plate in the bottom of the nose cone. The screws were long +ones, holding the entire nose assembly in place. With the screws laid +carefully aside, Cobb tapped the cone and the assembly dropped into his +hand. + +"A terrific job of miniaturization," he commented. "First-rate design." +He pointed with a screwdriver to a segment about the size of two silver +dollars stacked together. "Tape recorder. It accumulates data, then +plays it back in a single high-speed burst." + +Rick watched, fascinated, as the electronics expert identified +components and circuits. The whole unit, scarcely larger than a common +soup can, contained receiver, tape recorder, transmitter, batteries, and +command circuits that could be triggered from the ground. It was a +highly complex and beautifully engineered package for receiving data, +storing it, then retransmitting it. + +"But why?" Rick demanded. "Why send up a rockoon at all? What data does +it receive and transmit, and what do the people at the mansion do with +it?" + +"What Rick is asking," Scotty observed, "is the question that has +puzzled us since we got here. Why do the stingarees fly?" + +Steve waved a hand. "Patience for just a few more minutes. Anything +else, Cobb?" + +The electronics expert shook his head. "Not unless you have specific +questions. In summary, this is a very elegant little assembly of +receiver, data recorder, transmitter, and command circuits." + +"Fine. McDevitt, what about the rocket?" + +The man from Wallops Island shrugged. "Nothing very complex about it. +It's a simple solid-fuel rocket with star grain, fired by a squib that +is commanded from the ground. A squib is simply an igniter to start the +fuel burning. Battery power makes it glow red hot when turned on." + +"How high an altitude would the rocket reach?" Steve asked. + +"It's difficult to be precise, but I'd estimate the balloon carries it +to ten thousand feet, then it is fired by signal from the ground at the +proper time. The rocket would go to about one hundred thousand feet, +plus or minus twenty thousand. In other words, I'd guess its maximum +altitude at nearly twenty-three miles." + +"Did you say fired at the proper time, or proper altitude?" Rick asked +quickly. He wanted clarification of the point, although he was sure +McDevitt had said "time." + +"The altitude isn't important. I'd say time was the principal factor." + +"But if altitude isn't important, why use a rockoon? Why not use a +rocket launched directly from the ground?" Scotty demanded. He looked +puzzled. + +Rick looked at Steve expectantly. The young agent smiled. "Got the +answer, Rick?" + +"Maybe. It's a matter of secrecy, isn't it? The folks around here were +puzzled by the flying stingarees, but they would have been more puzzled +by rocket firing. They'd have been curious enough to want to know why +the rockets were being fired, and it's certain that an investigation +would have resulted. By using rockoons, with balloons that didn't look +like balloons, Camillion confused the issue. People who reported seeing +things got laughed at, mostly because they call any unidentified flying +object a flying saucer. The rockets fired only when high in the air, +where people wouldn't notice." + +"Two did," Scotty reminded him. "Remember? We had two interviews where +the people saw spurts of flame." + +"Sure," Rick agreed, "but they had no idea it was a rocket taking off +from a balloon. And only two out of the whole bunch even noticed flame +at all." + +Steve nodded. "You've hit it, Rick. It's the only answer that makes +sense." + +"Not until we know what data were collected by the rockoons," Rick said +stubbornly. "That's the whole key. Nothing will really make sense until +we know that." + +"We ran the dates and times of sightings through the computer with a lot +of other dates and times for various things," Steve explained. "I had a +hunch, but the computer turned it into good comparative data." + +"What data?" Scotty demanded. + +"Every single sighting you collected coincided with the launching of a +research rocket from Wallops Island!" + +The boys sat back, openmouthed. Rick said, "So that's why the glow from +Wallops Island in the south-eastern sky was so significant. That's what +put you on the trail!" + +"Right," Steve agreed. "The yellow glow is from sodium vapor rockets +fired from Wallops. The rockets allow visual measurement of +meteorological data. People around here are used to seeing them to the +southeast, over Wallops. When I saw that sightings had been made over +Swamp Creek at the time of sodium shots, I got an idea. It wasn't much +to go on, but it was at least a good clue. The computer did the rest." + +"Then Lefty Camillion and his friends have been intercepting data from +our rocket launchings at Wallops," Scotty said unbelievingly. "But why? +How could Lefty use data like that? It's all straight, unclassified +scientific and meteorological stuff. He's no scientist." + +Steve grinned. "I doubt that he even knows what the data are. He and his +friends are a bunch of chuckleheads of the very worst kind. But about +what he does with the data--Joe Vitalli has been doing some +investigating along that line." + +Vitalli nodded. "With the FBI. They put agents on the case and found out +Lefty had been in touch with the Soviet Embassy in Washington, through a +third secretary whose function it is to gather various kinds of +scientific intelligence. We're not absolutely certain, but it looks very +much as though Lefty plans to sell his data tapes to the Soviets." + +"So that's why JANIG has moved into the case," Scotty concluded. + +"On the nose," Steve agreed. "Now it's time to move in on our foolish +friends at Calvert's Favor. Do you boys want to take a hand?" + +"Try and leave us out," Rick said with a grin. "JANIG is welcome to +assist us, but the flying stingarees are our babies. Scotty's and mine, +that is." + +"Be glad to have you help," Scotty echoed. + +The JANIG men laughed. "You've got a point," Chuck Howard conceded. + +"Want to plan the operation?" Steve asked with a twinkle. + +Rick held up his hand. "Whoa! We didn't say that. You've got information +we don't have." + +"Only one piece of information," Steve replied. "The time of the next +launching from Wallops Island." + +"When?" Rick asked eagerly. + +"At dusk tonight." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +The Stingaree's Tail + + +"This is the plan," Steve Ames said. "Joe and Chuck will approach from +upriver and go around the mansion fence by wading downstream. They'll +stay under cover somewhere at the edge of the mansion grounds until they +hear my signal on the radio to close in--or until they see the balloon +launched. I'll go in the way I did before." + +The two JANIG agents nodded, and bent over the chart borrowed from the +houseboat. + +"Cobb will set up his equipment here at my house," Steve continued, "and +try to intercept all signals from the mansion. McDevitt will set up here +too, and track the balloon through my telescope--if it rises--watching +until the rocket fires. McDevitt also will keep in touch with Wallops +Island by radio, and notify me on the walkie-talkie when the countdown +reaches thirty minutes." + +Steve turned to Rick and Scotty. "Before I go to my post, I'll take you +two to the creek mouth in the runabout. Then you will swim up the creek, +underwater, and take up stations in the weeds directly in front of the +house." + +Rick's pulse stopped. "They'll see our bubbles," he protested. "It would +give the whole show away!" + +Steve motioned to Joe Vitalli. "Show 'em." + +Joe walked to the car in which he and Chuck had driven from Washington, +and opened the trunk. He brought out a pair of riot guns, automatic +shotguns, which he handed to Chuck, then he reached into the trunk and +brought out a pair of small cylinders with full face masks attached. + +"Rebreathers!" Rick exclaimed. He grinned at Steve. "You planned this +before you ever told us what was on your mind!" + +"I thought it was best to be prepared," Steve said. "You know how these +work?" + +Rick nodded. "We both do." The rebreathers, unlike Scubas, which were +filled with compressed air, used oxygen which was recycled through a +canister of chemicals that removed water vapor and carbon dioxide. They +were completely self-contained; no bubbles were emitted. + +Cobb was already opening a pair of leather-covered cases, exposing +electronic gear. He had also brought a portable antenna, which he began +setting up. McDevitt had a radio in his car with which to talk to +Wallops, and Steve handed him one unit of a walkie-talkie radio network. +Another unit went to Chuck, and Steve retained one. + +Steve glanced at his watch. "Let's get going. Time your travel so you +will be in place at eight o'clock on the nose." He looked at the boys. +"Get into your gear, and take spear guns with you. When we move into +action, I want you to bring that balloon down if you can." + +The boys ran to the houseboat. Rick was excited, and he knew Scotty was +feeling the same way. It was the first time they had been in on a JANIG +operation as full partners. Their previous adventures had either been as +accidental participants or as observers. + +They got into full gear, including their skin-tight neoprene helmets and +footgear. Then, leaving their fins and rebreathers, they hurried back to +the others. Joe and Chuck were in their own car, the riot guns and +walkie-talkie out of sight. McDevitt had the telescope set up next to +his car and was practicing with it by tracking a high-flying osprey. +Cobb was finishing work on his electronic setup. His antenna was in +place, the dish on top of the collapsible pole aligned on the compass +direction to Calvert's Favor. + +Steve shook hands with Joe and Chuck. "On your way. See you when the +balloon goes up." He motioned to the boys. "Got spear guns?" + +"We left that till last," Rick said. "Ready to go?" + +"Ready." + +The three hurried down the pier to the houseboat, where the boys took +guns from their spear box. Each chose a high-powered gas gun, operated +by a carbon dioxide cartridge, and selected the spears that would cut +the biggest holes. There would be time for only one shot. + +"Get on the floor in the runabout when we cast off," Steve directed. "If +there are any watchers, I want them to see only one man." + +The boys cast off, then climbed in as Steve backed into the creek. They +crouched on the floor and adjusted the straps on their face masks until +the fit was tight. There was no conversation. Rick was so excited it was +hard to sit still. As they began the crossing of the Little Choptank +River, Steve gave them instructions. "When we get opposite the creek +mouth, the engine is going to stutter and kick up a lot of smoke. The +boat will drift into the smoke and out again. You'll have a few seconds +to go over. I'll pretend to work on the motor, and finally get it +started, but running rough. Then I'll take off and pretend I'm heading +home. Okay?" + +"How are you going to make smoke?" Rick asked. + +Steve reached into his breast pocket and produced a small bottle. "These +are chemicals that smoke when they touch water. Got your plans all +made?" + +Rick looked at Scotty. "We'll have to stick our heads up once in a +while. I'll lead, since I know the creek as far as the cove. When I +think I'm lost, I'll head for the north bank, making a sharp turn. That +will be your signal to stay put, while I look. What I'd like to do is +bring us out in back of the duck blind. We can pick our spots then and +cross the creek when we're ready." + +"Got it," Scotty agreed. + +Steve reached down a hand and squeezed their hands in turn. "Good luck, +kids. And no unnecessary chances. If shooting starts, get underwater +again. We'll have guns, but you'll have only single-shot spear guns." + +"Good luck," the boys said in unison. They put on the masks and turned +the valves that started the oxygen cycles. Rick grinned at Scotty +through the glass, and knew that his grin was strained. Scotty grinned +back and held up his hand with thumb and forefinger making the signal +for "Okay." + +"Be ready," Steve said. + +Rick checked himself once again to be sure all was in order. Weight +belt, knife, compass, spear gun with safety cap on, mask fitting +tightly, and the pack in place. He got ready to jump on Steve's command. + +The outboard slowed, raced, slowed, raced, back-fired, slowed. Steve's +hand went over and trailed chemical in the water. The boat turned, and +Rick saw the smoke cloud rising. The boat went into it, and the motor +cut out. + +"Go," Steve said. + +Rick stood upright and went over the gunwale in a dive, knifing toward +the bottom. He felt the pressure wave as Scotty followed and reached a +hand upward to meet his pal. His hand touched Scotty's arm, found the +hand, and gave it a squeeze. Then, with a glance at his compass to +orient him, Rick started the long swim. + +It was odd to be wearing the oxygen lung. The sound of bubbles from the +customary compressed-air Scubas was missing, and the silence was +strange. Then Steve started the motor of the runabout and Rick heard the +broken rhythm as the motor skipped. He knew that Steve probably had +turned the carburetor mixture to too lean or too rich. Either would +cause the motor to run rough. He kept moving, his fins keeping a steady +stroke. The motor sound grew distant, and finally faded entirely. + +Rick usually depended on pressure to tell him location, but the creek +was too shallow for any strong indication on his ears. He kept going +until the visibility and brightness told him he was in the shallows, +then steered out into the middle of the stream again. + +He thought they must be halfway to the mansion, but wasn't sure. He gave +a pair of swift kicks to alert Scotty, then turned sharp left, rolling +over on his back. He could see the water surface clearly. Rising a +little, he lifted his face above the water for a brief second, then went +back under. + +Now was the time to get behind the duck blind. Rick swam back to where +Scotty waited, and plucked at his shoulder. This time he started off +close to the north shore, heading directly for the duck blind. His +course was straight. In a few moments he found himself among the pilings +and turned to put the blind between himself and the mansion on the +opposite shore. Scotty followed. + +Rick lifted his head cautiously. He saw only the marsh grass and the +back of the blind. He tapped Scotty, who rose until his head was level +with Rick's, his face only a few inches away. They pulled off their +masks. + +"We can swim under the blind and look out the front," Rick whispered. +"There's enough brush to give us cover. We'll each pick our own spot and +go to it. Sound all right?" + +"Okay. Better fix our guns right here, though." + +It was good advice. Rick removed the safety cap from his spear, making +sure the barbed shaft was properly seated. Now he needed only to flick +off the safety catch and fire. Scotty did the same. + +"You go right and I'll go left," Scotty suggested softly. "Be better if +there's a little spread between us. We'll also want to find places where +we can look out. There's some weed along the shore, and I think I +remember a brush pile around a stake near the right-hand edge of the +lawn. One piling is there. There's a bunch of old pilings off to the +left where the original pier was. I can see if there's cover there. If +not, I'll find something." + +Scotty had worn his waterproof watch. It was just four minutes to eight. +Time to get going. + +The boys shook hands, grinned at each other, and pulled their masks back +on. They ducked under the blind, side by side, and swam to the front of +the structure where brush from last year's cover remained. + +Cautiously Rick peered out, then sucked in his breath. A truck had been +wheeled out of the barn. It had a dish antenna on top. And next to the +truck, a mass of black plastic was slowly inflating. A flying stingaree! + +Rick looked quickly for a spot to which he could swim. Near the edge of +the cut lawn was the piling Scotty had mentioned. It was tall, with a +light on it for night navigation. Rick realized he had seen it on +earlier trips, but had not noticed it particularly because his attention +had been on the house and its occupants. Slightly upstream from the tall +piling were a series of stakes, saplings pushed into the bottom to +indicate the limits of water deep enough for a boat. Around three of the +pilings brush and grass had gathered, picked up from the current. The +middle pile was highest. Rick decided to head for it. + +Scotty was also searching for a hiding place. Apparently he found one +that was satisfactory, because he gripped Rick's shoulder for a moment, +then submerged. Rick saw him as a shadow, hugging the bottom. + +Now was the time. Rick took a deep breath to quiet his taut and shaky +nerves, then sank to the bottom and began the last leg of the trip. It +was only a few dozen yards to the sapling he had chosen. He reached it +and glanced upward. The mass of debris made a black blotch on the bright +surface of the water. Moving with infinite caution and using the sapling +as a guide, he swung his legs under him and rose to a sitting position. +The debris was still above the level of his eyes, so he swung his legs +back again and knelt. The kneeling position brought his head to just the +right level. He lifted his face and looked at the debris. Working +cautiously, he brought a hand up and poked a hole through. His fingers +enlarged the hole until he could see sufficiently. + +The flying stingaree was tugging at the rope that held it! The shape was +almost perfect, Rick thought, but he doubted that it had been designed +to look like a sting ray. More likely it had been picked to look as +little like a conventional balloon as possible. Well, it had served its +purpose. + +Merlin, alias Lefty Camillion, and his electronics wizard were fitting a +rocket into a loop on a plastic strap that dangled from the balloon. +Rick couldn't see it clearly, but thought it was a replica of the one he +had recovered. + +There was sound from the truck containing the dish antenna. Rick pulled +his mask away to hear a little better and heard a loudspeaker, +rebroadcasting something. + +"... reports no aircraft within range limits. We are now at thirty-one +minutes and counting. On my mark the time will be zero minus thirty +exactly." + +There was only the crackle of the loudspeaker. The set was tuned in on +the Wallops Island command frequency, Rick realized. That was how +Camillion and company knew when to release the balloon, and when to +trigger the rocket! + +Camillion's bodyguard was manning the rope holding the balloon. It was +attached to a ring on the truck. As Rick watched, the bodyguard let out +more line and the balloon rose slightly, tugging at the rope, and moving +toward Rick. The tail hung down almost to the ground, the rocket hanging +at an angle at its end. + +The loudspeaker voice said, "Stand by. Mark! Zero minus thirty." + +The bodyguard reached up and cut the rope! + +Rick saw the flying stingaree heading directly toward him, rising +slowly, caught by the ground wind. He brought his spear gun into +position and rose to his full height, snapping off the safety catch. +Oblivious to the yells from the lawn, he aimed and fired. With a sharp +hiss, the spear flashed through the air--into the balloon and right +through it! + +The balloon didn't even falter. It would take time to lose sufficient +gas to bring it down. The wind swept it right toward Rick, still rising. +As it passed over him, the dangling rocket would be almost within reach. + +Rick didn't hesitate. He saw the track of the balloon curving, as the +wind shifted direction downstream over the water. He threw himself to +one side and forward, dropping the spear gun, one hand outstretched. The +rocket slapped into his palm and his fingers closed around it. The jerk +pulled him forward and he grabbed with his other hand, missed, and +grabbed again. This time he caught the rocket, and both hands gripped +tight. + +The flying stingaree lifted him, dragging him through the water. Rick +spun around at the end of the line, and caught a glimpse of the +bodyguard raising a pistol to shoot at him! Then the scene whirled and +he saw Scotty, standing in water to his waist, spear gun lifted to fire. + +[Illustration: _The flying stingaree lifted him!_] + +Rick saw the spear leave his pal's gun, and he whirled his head in time +to see the bodyguard looking down with horror at the shaft protruding +from his side. + +The boy didn't see the piling. His last quick impression was of the +bodyguard falling forward, then there was a stunning impact as the side +of his head met creosoted wood and darkness flooded in. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +Lucky Lefty + + +Rick awoke to fiery agony. His face was burning, the flames searing his +flesh. He tried to reach a hand up to ease the pain and found the hand +gripped firmly. He struggled, and Steve's voice said, "Take it easy, +Rick. We'll be through in a minute." + +The boy subsided and gritted his teeth. If Steve was there, it was okay. +But why didn't Steve put out the fire? + +"Don't move," Steve said sharply. "I don't want to hurt you any more +than I can help." + +Rick closed his eyes and fought the pain. He heard Steve say, "Give me +the spray can." Then something cool and soothing spread over his face. + +An arm circled his shoulder and raised him to a sitting position. He +opened his eyes and looked into Scotty's worried face. Rick managed a +grin. "It's okay," he said hoarsely. + +"If being alive is okay, then it's okay," Scotty said with relief. "But +you're a mess, boy." + +Rick looked up dazedly. Steve was smiling at him, and next to Steve, +Orvil Harris! "Glad you're all right," the boy murmured. + +"Thanks, Rick. I'm glad you finally came around. You had us worried for +a bit. And, Rick, meet my cousin Link." + +A tall, gaunt man stepped forward. "Howdy, Rick? How do you feel?" + +"Woozy," Rick said honestly. "Help me up, somebody." + +Scotty lifted him, then guided him to a lawn chair. "Sit down. You're +too weak to stand." + +Rick subsided gratefully. He could see better now, although it was +nearly dark. There were other people seated in chairs on the Calvert's +Favor lawn. Camillion, his electronics expert, and two others. At full +length, covered by a blanket, was the guard. He looked up at Rick, his +eyes dull and malevolent, but he said nothing. + +"What happened?" Rick asked. + +Joe Vitalli stood behind Camillion and company, his riot gun ready. The +JANIG agent was wet up to his armpits. Chuck Howard came into sight from +behind Rick, and he carried an open first-aid kit. + +"You jumped for the balloon," Steve reminded him. He motioned to the +bodyguard. "This one tried a pot-shot at you and Scotty nailed him with +a spear. Then you smashed into the piling and got knocked out. The +piling was rough. Your mask was ripped off and your face dragged along +the wood just enough to take the skin off and leave you full of +splinters. We were taking the biggest splinters out when you came to. +How does your face feel?" + +"Awful," Rick said. The soothing effect of the antiseptic spray was +wearing off and the pain was returning. "Where's the balloon?" + +"On the ground behind you. Scotty got to you first, and with his weight +on it, the thing finally came down." The young agent grinned admiringly. +"We had to pry your hands off the rocket. Never saw such a stubborn cuss +in my life. Out cold, and still holding on." + +"Persistent," Rick said weakly. "Not stubborn. Did you round up the +whole gang?" + +"The whole lot." + +Lefty Camillion glared at Rick from a chair on the other side of the +small circle. + +"Why did you do it?" Rick asked. "What did you hope to gain?" + +The syndicate chief shrugged, but kept his silence. + +"I can shed a little light," Steve said. "Some of it is speculation, but +it stands up. Lefty knew his appeal against the deportation order was +almost certain to be turned down. Within a few weeks he'd be on his way +out of the country. The FBI has been trying to get the full dope on +Lefty, and one thing they found was that expensive living had taken most +of his money. He needed cash, in other words. This was the way he chose +to get it, collecting the data transmitted by the research rockets from +Wallops and selling it." + +Rick shook his head, then winced. "It's a crazy idea," he said. "I don't +know why. I just know it is. I could tell you, but I can't seem to +think." + +There were sirens far away, but getting closer. Scotty put a hand on +Rick's shoulder. "Don't try to think now, old buddy. The ambulance is +coming. Plenty of time to talk when you're feeling better." + +Rick nodded weakly. It was getting very dark. He closed his eyes and +leaned back. Scotty kept a hand on his shoulder. + +The ambulance, led by a state trooper, pulled into the grounds. An +attendant and an intern jumped out. "Who's hurt?" the intern asked. + +"This one first," Steve said. "Then the one on the ground." + +Rick felt a hand grip his chin and opened his eyes. The intern was +examining his face with a strong flashlight beam. + +"Messy but superficial," the intern said calmly. "I'll bet it hurts." + +"You win," Rick muttered. + +"How did it happen?" + +Steve described Rick's accident briefly. The intern nodded. He shined +the light into Rick's eyes and watched the pupils contract. "Possible +concussion. We'll check at the hospital." He knelt and took a roll of +cloth from his bag and unwrapped it to disclose hypodermic needles in a +sterile inner wrapper. He fitted a needle to a syringe and found a +bottle of alcohol and a vial of sedative. Working swiftly, he wiped the +vial top and Rick's arm with alcohol, then drew fluid into the syringe. +"This will help the pain," he said, and pressed the needle into Rick's +arm. + +"Now," the doctor said briskly, "let's look at the next one. What +happened to him?" + +"Fish spear in the side," Steve replied. + +Scotty and the attendant helped Rick to the ambulance. He lay down on +the stretcher gratefully and closed his eyes. Scotty stayed with him +while the attendant went to help with the bodyguard. + +"Quite a party," Rick said faintly. + +Scotty covered him with a blanket. "You missed most of it, but I'll give +you the details tomorrow. How are you feeling?" + +"Groggy." Rick's eyes were closed. He was never sure at what point he +drifted off into deep slumber. He knew only that he had no recollection +of the bodyguard being placed next to him or of the ambulance leaving +Calvert's Favor. + +Rick awoke to bright daylight. The pain in his face had subsided to a +faintly aching stiffness and he felt fine. He knew from the surroundings +that he must be in a hospital, probably at Cambridge. He groped for the +call bell and found it wound around the bedpost. He pushed it. In a few +moments a nurse came in. + +"Well," she greeted him, "how are you this morning?" + +"Hungry," Rick replied promptly. + +The nurse, a pleasant-faced woman of middle age, smiled. "That's a good +sign. Let's see what we can do. Ready for visitors?" + +"Send them in," Rick said cheerfully. "Or is it just one?" + +"Two." The nurse went to the door and beckoned. "I'll send in some +breakfast," she said, and left. + +Rick's hand touched his head gingerly. The right side of his face was +bandaged, the pad held in place by tape that crossed his forehead and +circled down under his chin. He probed gently and discovered that the +sorest places were his temple and an area just in front of his ear. + +Steve Ames and Scotty came in and greeted him with wide smiles. "The +nurse says you're hungry," Steve said. "Sounds like the old Rick." + +Scotty asked, "How about crab cakes for breakfast?" + +"Bring 'em on, followed by a dozen steamed clams and an order of +fritters," Rick replied. "How's the bodyguard?" + +"Well enough so his disposition is pretty nasty," Steve reported. "He'll +be here for at least a week before the jail cell opens wide. Seriously, +Rick, are you all right? Apparently there was no concussion." + +"I'm fine," Rick assured him. "But I'll bet this bandage makes me look +like a survivor of Custer's Last Stand." + +Steve and Scotty drew chairs up to the bed. "One last look by the doctor +and we'll take you home," Steve told him. "If you feel up to it." + +"What'll I do for clothes?" Rick asked. + +"They're in your closet," Scotty replied. "We brought them with us. Last +night we took your gear home after the hospital folks peeled you out of +it." + +"Good." Rick looked at his two friends. "Now suppose you tell me what +happened last night? I must have been out like a light while the +excitement was running high." + +Scotty nodded. "I'll start. I was behind one of the pier piles when the +bodyguard cut the balloon loose. I jumped out for a clear shot, but by +then you had put your spear through the thing. I was going to add mine +for good luck when I saw the bodyguard reach for the old equalizer and +draw a bead on you, so I shifted targets. I looked back at you just in +time to see you dangling from the stingaree like an extra tail. And +right then you went boom into the piling. But would Brant ever let go of +evidence? Not you, ol' buddy. There you dangled, limp as a wilted banana +while the balloon drifted along with you. I started toward you as fast +as I could go, which wasn't very fast with water up to my waist." + +"Wish I could have seen it," Rick said with a grin. + +"So do I," Scotty assured him. "Camillion and his friends were also +somewhat interested in you. They started down the lawn, and I was sure +they'd get to you before I could. Only then Joe and Chuck stepped out of +the bushes not ten yards from where I'd been hiding, and yelled to the +lads to hold fast and get their hands high. Steve stepped around the +corner of the barn with a .45 in his mitt and emphasized the point. +Lefty and company got the idea and skidded to a stop with all brakes +locked. I put on more speed, and Steve joined the chase." + +"I didn't see you hit the piling." Steve picked up the story. "But I +heard it. When I saw that the boys had things under control with their +shotguns, I stepped on it and got to you a few seconds after Scotty had +grabbed you by the waist. When I saw your face, I had a few bad moments +until I could take a closer look. You were a bloody mess, to put it +mildly, with more than a few splinters adding color. But I could see +your manly beauty wasn't gone forever. We pried you loose from the +rocket and stretched you out on the lawn. Your pulse was pretty good and +you were breathing steadily, so we gave you a few whiffs of oxygen from +Scotty's tank for good luck." + +Rick could appreciate how worried his friends must have been in spite of +their half-humorous report. + +"Lefty spoke up," Steve continued. "It was the only time he spoke. He's +said nothing since. He said, 'There's a first-aid kit in the kitchen.' +We got it, and went to work on you. Of course we put in a call to the +police, and asked for an ambulance. Joe Vitalli kept a watch on the +crowd and Chuck went into the barn while we pulled splinters out of you. +He found Orvil, and he also found Lincoln Harris." + +"I remember meeting him," Rick nodded. "I was too groggy to be +surprised." + +"He was okay. They hadn't mistreated him. Link said he had gone up the +creek just in time to see them launch a balloon with a rocket on it, and +they got the drop on him with rifles, then grabbed him. His curiosity +got the better of him. He'd heard about the people at Calvert's Favor +and decided to take a look, the waterways being free to all navigators. +Orvil had a bump on his head, but otherwise was all right. Lefty hasn't +talked, but I suspect he had plans for their release, once he was safely +out of the country." + +"Where is Lefty?" Rick asked. + +"He and his friends are in the local jail. You know, Lefty is a chump. +But he's also an excellent example of what happens to people when they +start operating in unfamiliar fields." + +"Why is he a chump?" Rick demanded. + +"Because every bit of data he went to so much trouble to collect was his +for the asking, if he'd only waited until it was processed." + +The light dawned. Rick knew at once what Steve meant. "That's what was +trying to get to the surface in this addled brain of mine last night. Of +course! Wallops Island is an unclassified launch site. Everything about +the launchings is reported in scientific publications! But, Steve, the +Soviet Embassy was interested in buying the stuff!" + +Steve chuckled. "Sure, but not for a very high price, I suspect. The +Reds are so suspicious they can't believe that a country like the United +States can afford to give away data. They'd buy the tapes just to make +sure we weren't holding back information they could use." + +"Even a casual investigation would have told Lefty the data from Wallops +firings is published by scientific publications," Scotty pointed out. +"How could he have been so stupid?" + +"He fell into a natural trap," Steve answered. "Most people think there +is military secrecy connected with rocket firings. They don't make a +distinction between the civilian space agency and the military services. +But the law does. It says the National Aeronautics and Space +Administration is required to report on its scientific findings." + +"And it does," Rick concluded. "Dad has already written a report on the +instruments for measuring solar X rays. The scientists who actually use +the instruments will also write a report on the data they obtained." + +"That's it," Steve agreed. "What's a little more puzzling is why the +electronics expert didn't know. I suspect he has been concerned only +with the design of telemetry equipment and not with any actual +launchings or space experiments." + +"Maybe he did know," Scotty offered. "He might have kept quiet just to +get money from Lefty for doing the work on intercepting the data. You +know we had the clues, but it never occurred to us there might be a +connection between Wallops Island and the stingarees, because who could +imagine going to all that trouble to intercept open, unclassified data +you can get by asking for it?" + +Rick had to laugh. "Whether he knew or not, it's still a joke on Lefty, +and on us for not suspecting the connection. And poor Lefty won't have a +nest egg to take back to Europe with him." + +"He won't need a nest egg," Steve corrected. "Lefty violated the law by +kidnaping Link and Orvil. I don't know whether we can make a federal +espionage rap stick or not, since the data he was collecting was +unclassified. But we'll try. Anyway, he won't be going back to Europe. +He'll end up in a Maryland prison, or a Federal one. Either way, it'll +be some years before he has to worry about money." + +"Lucky Lefty," Rick said. "A cell of his own, plenty of food, and no +worries about money. We did him a favor." + +Steve grinned. "Just don't expect any gratitude for a favor like that!" + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +Hunt the Wide Waters + + +The cruising houseboat _Spindrift_ moved sedately across Eastern Bay, +off the main Chesapeake Bay, toward the town of Claiborne. It was a +lovely day with a blue sky dotted with occasional fair-weather clouds. +The temperature was in the low eighties, the wind gentle, and the water +warm. + +Rick Brant sat on the bow of the houseboat, with his feet dangling over. +Next to him sat Jan Miller. His sister Barby, with their mother and +father, were relaxing in deck chairs on the sun deck, while Scotty +piloted the boat. + +Now and then the bow dipped, and the spray splashed up in a cooling +shower. Rick enjoyed the feeling of the cool spray, and the taste of +salt on his tongue. Jan did, too. Rick thought she made quite a picture +with her white bathing suit and golden tan contrasting with her dark +hair. His one regret was that he couldn't swim with Jan, Scotty, and the +family. Both Jan and Barby were expert Scuba divers, and he had looked +forward to spearfishing with them in the bay. The girls had brought +their own Scuba equipment in the luggage compartment of Hartson Brant's +car. + +Rick's bandages had been reduced to a single jumbo-size gauze patch, but +his folks would not allow him to go swimming until his face was entirely +healed. He knew they were right, though he chafed under the restriction. +Even so, swimming was really only a small part of the fun of +houseboating, and the ban on swimming wouldn't last long. + +Jan had put on a fresh bandage for him after breakfast that morning, and +remarked in her soft voice, "It will be completely healed in another day +or two, Rick. You can go swimming then." + +Meanwhile, he had found an acceptable substitute. Steve Ames was a +subscriber to _Bowhunting Magazine_, and in a back issue Rick had found +an article on fishing for sting rays with bow and arrow. Steve had +loaned a bow, and Rick had invested in fishing arrows and a reel for the +bow. So far, he had found only one sting ray, and in his excitement he +had failed to take into account the refraction of the water. He aimed +where the ray seemed to be--but wasn't. + +Rick's pretty, blond sister called down to him. "Rick! There's a sand +bar at the tip of that point." + +He looked to where Barby was pointing and saw a good-sized sand bar +extending out under the water. "I see it, Sis. Thanks. It will be a +while before we get there." + +Jan smiled at him. "Going to try again?" + +"You bet I am. Got to catch up with you somehow." + +Jan had bagged a ten-pound rockfish underwater on the day before, and +they had baked it in a driftwood fire on a beach at Poplar Island. Rick +was as proud as though the catch had been his own. He had been Jan's +diving instructor and had taught her how to stalk a fish. + +"You can catch up day after tomorrow when the folks will let you dive," +Jan assured him. + +"Can't wait that long," Rick replied. "I'm going to find a fifty-pound +ray right now." + +"Go get your bow," Jan said. "I'll join the others and we'll all spot +for you." + +Rick got to his feet and gave Jan a hand up. He went down the catwalk to +the cabin while she went up the ladder to the top deck. + +The bow was in the closet. Rick checked the string, then strung the bow +and selected two arrows. He went out on deck and stopped at Scotty's +side. "Looks like a good place. Cruise slow and easy and be ready to +maneuver. If there's a ray there, I want it." + +"Okay. Go for broke, Robin Hood. What I can't understand is why you +don't shoot for something edible." + +"Can't," Rick said cheerfully. "Edible-type fish don't hang around +waiting for boats to bring bowmen close." + +He climbed the rear ladder to the upper deck and joined his family. +Hartson Brant smiled at his son. "Next time we let you go off by +yourself don't get involved in mysteries. Then you won't have to bowhunt +inedible sea animals." + +"It's fun," Rick returned. "I'd want to do it even if I could spear +fish. Want to take a shot?" + +"I'll take a shot after you've boated your first ray." + +"Fair enough," Rick agreed. + +Mrs. Brant asked, "Where are we going, Rick?" + +He pointed to the peninsula. "Around that land. There's a creek on the +other side called Tilghman Creek. The cruising guide says there's a good +anchorage just inside. If it looks all right, well spend the night +there. If not, we'll go across to the Wye River. Tomorrow we'll go down +the Miles River to the town of St. Michaels and put in supplies." + +The scientist smiled at his wife. "It's nice to relax and have our +children do the work and the thinking, isn't it?" + +"It's too good to last," Mrs. Brant returned. + +Barby and Jan were standing far forward, close to where the cabin top +curved downward to the forward deck. Rick joined them. + +"This is fun!" Barby exclaimed. "Rick this houseboat was the best idea +you ever had!" + +"We all should have traveled down together," Jan said. "Then the whole +family could have been in on the case of the flying stingaree." + +"That will be the day," Barby replied. "When Rick Brant lets us in on +any real adventures, I'll know the world is coming to an end." Her tone +changed suddenly. "Look, we're getting into shallow water. Keep a sharp +lookout!" + +Rick went down the ladder to the foredeck and tied his arrowhead to the +fish line wound in the reel on his bow. He nocked the arrow and got +ready to shoot. He looked up at the two pretty girls standing above him. +"Let out a yell if you see a dark blot." + +Barby gave him a scornful look. "Of course we'll yell. Did you think we +were standing here waiting for flying saucers to land?" + +The houseboat plowed through a patch of sea grass and emerged over sandy +bottom. Rick kept careful watch, but he knew the girls would see the +first sign of a ray before he did, because of their higher vantage +point. + +Steve would enjoy this, he thought. The JANIG agent was back in +Washington, his vacation interrupted again because of the work that +remained on the case of Lefty Camillion. Lefty was in jail, too, along +with his friends. + +Rick shook his head. He was still amazed at the mobster's stupidity in +creating such an elaborate setup to get data that was his for the +asking. Apparently it just hadn't occurred to Lefty that a rocket range +could be without secrets. + +If there _had_ been secrets, though, the system was a good one. By using +the combination of a balloon and a rocket, Lefty got his equipment high +enough to intercept Wallops Island telemetry, and he did it without +anyone suspecting he was launching rockets. The rockets and balloons +dropped into the ocean, unseen--or, if seen, the first thought would be +that they had come from Wallops. The shape of the balloons also kept +anyone from suspecting that the theft of data was the real purpose. It +was a fine scheme, even though it had all been unnecessary. + +The girls let out a yell that startled Rick from his reverie. Scotty +immediately throttled back, and the boat's momentum carried it forward. +Rick watched the water, and finally saw a dark blur on the sandy bottom +ahead and to the left. He drew, then waited until he saw the dark patch +move. This time he allowed for the water's refraction. He loosed the +arrow. + +The stingaree felt the impact and reacted violently. Its tail lashed up +to strike with sharp barbs at the intruder. The tail lashed the arrow +shaft without effect. The ray's wings moved in a rippling motion like +that of some weird flying carpet. It flashed upward, and into the air, +then crashed back on the surface of the water again. It dived, heading +for the bottom. + +Rick kept the drag on his reel, letting the ray fight against the +braking action. The fish didn't give up easily. It had the primitive +nervous system and great vitality of its relatives, the sharks, and it +fought long after an edible fish, like a rockfish, would have given up. + +When the ray moved toward the now stationary boat, Rick reeled in line. +When the ray showed a new burst of energy and started away, Rick let it +fight against the drag, pulling out line. + +The girls were down on the foredeck with him now, and Scotty had joined +the Brants on the upper deck in order to get a better view of the fight. + +Finally, the ray tired. Rick drew it in close to the hull and waited +while the vicious tail lashed futilely. Jan took the gaff that Scotty +handed down to her and gave it to Rick. He hooked the sea beast and +lifted it from the water. + +"Stand clear!" he warned. "I don't want either of you getting hit with +that tail!" + +The girls hurried up the ladder to safety, and Rick lifted the stingaree +to the deck. + +It was a small one, weighing about fifteen pounds. The wet, leathery +body glistened, and the kite-shaped wings flapped like those of some +fantastic bird. + +Scotty looked down at the ray. "You caught a cripple," he said. "There's +something wrong with it." + +Rick looked up. He knew the answer, but he asked the question anyway, +grinning. "Yes? What's wrong with it?" + +"It can't fly," Scotty said. + + * * * * * + +RICK BRANT SCIENCE STORIES + +[Illustration: RICK BRANT] + +Rick Brant is the boy who with his pal Scotty lives on an island called +Spindrift and takes part in so many thrilling adventures and baffling +mysteries involving science and electronics. You can share every one of +these adventures in the pages of Rick's books. They are available at +your book store in handsome, low-priced editions. + + THE ROCKET'S SHADOW + THE LOST CITY + SEA GOLD + 100 FATHOMS UNDER + THE WHISPERING BOX MYSTERY + THE PHANTOM SHARK + SMUGGLERS' REEF + THE CAVES OF FEAR + STAIRWAY TO DANGER + THE GOLDEN SKULL + THE WAILING OCTOPUS + THE ELECTRONIC MIND READER + THE SCARLET LAKE MYSTERY + THE PIRATES OF SHAN + THE BLUE GHOST MYSTERY + THE EGYPTIAN CAT MYSTERY + THE FLAMING MOUNTAIN + THE FLYING STINGAREE + THE RUBY RAY MYSTERY + THE VEILED RAIDERS + RICK BRANT'S SCIENCE PROJECTS + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Flying Stingaree, by Harold Leland Goodwin + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FLYING STINGAREE *** + +***** This file should be named 30401.txt or 30401.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/4/0/30401/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Flying Stingaree + +Author: Harold Leland Goodwin + +Release Date: November 3, 2009 [EBook #30401] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FLYING STINGAREE *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<h1>THE FLYING STINGAREE</h1> + +<h2>BY JOHN BLAINE</h2> + +<h3>A RICK BRANT SCIENCE-ADVENTURE STORY</h3> + + +<h4>GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS<br /> +NEW YORK, N. Y.</h4> + +<h4>BY GROSSET & DUNLAP, INC., 1963</h4> + +<h4>ALL RIGHTS RESERVED</h4> + +<h4><i>Printed in the United States of America</i></h4> + +<h4>[Transcriber's note: Extensive research found no evidence<br /> +that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</h4> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<h4><i>To</i><br /> +<i>my sons</i>,<br /> +<span class="smcap">Chris</span> <i>and</i> <span class="smcap">Derek</span>,<br /> +<i>who have watched the stingarees</i><br /> +<i>from the sun deck of the</i><br /> +<i>cruising houseboat</i><br /> +<i>Spindrift</i></h4> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="frontis1" id="frontis1"></a> +<img src="images/frontis1.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3><i>Spindrift Island</i></h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE FLYING STINGAREE</h2> + + +<p>What's shaped like a sting ray and flies over Chesapeake Bay? This is +the eerie riddle which confronts Rick Brant and his friend Don Scott +when, seeking shelter from a storm, they anchor the houseboat +<i>Spindrift</i> in a lonely cove along the Maryland shore and spot the +flying stingaree.</p> + +<p>The "thing," they learn, is not the only one of its kind—one is +actually suspected of having kidnaped a man!</p> + +<p>The residents of the Eastern Shore of Maryland believe the strange +objects are flying saucers, but, weary of ridicule, have ceased +reporting the sightings.</p> + +<p>Rick and Scotty, their scientific curiosity aroused, begin a +comprehensive investigation, encouraged by their friend Steve Ames, a +young government intelligence agent, whose summer cottage is near the +cove.</p> + +<p>As the clues mount up, the trail leads to Calvert's Favor, a historic +plantation house—and to the very bottom of Chesapeake Bay. How Rick and +Scotty, at the risk of their lives, ground the eerie menace forever +makes a tale of high-voltage suspense.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="frontis2" id="frontis2"></a> +<img src="images/frontis2.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3><i>Little Choptank River</i></h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>Contents</h2> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I <span class="smcap">Chesapeake Bay</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II <span class="smcap">The Flying Stingaree</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III <span class="smcap">Orvil Harris, Crabber</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV <span class="smcap">Steve's Place</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V <span class="smcap">The Face Is Familiar</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI <span class="smcap">The Saucer Sighters</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII <span class="smcap">Sighting Data</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII <span class="smcap">Calvert's Favor</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX <span class="smcap">The Duck Blind</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X <span class="smcap">Ken Holt Comes Through</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI <span class="smcap">On the Bottom</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII <span class="smcap">Night Recovery</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII <span class="smcap">The Night Watchers</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV <span class="smcap">Daybreak</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV <span class="smcap">The Empty Boat</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI <span class="smcap">Steve Waits It Out</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII <span class="smcap">Crowd at Martins Creek</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII <span class="smcap">The Stingaree's Tail</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX <span class="smcap">Lucky Lefty</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX <span class="smcap">Hunt the Wide Waters</span></a><br /><br /> +<a href="#RICK_BRANT_SCIENCE_STORIES">RICK BRANT SCIENCE STORIES</a><br /> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + + +<p><a href="#frontis2">Little Choptank River</a></p> + +<p><a href="#illus2">Scotty fitted the camera to the telescope</a></p> + +<p><a href="#illus3">Now to find out what he had</a></p> + +<p><a href="#illus4">The flying stingaree lifted him</a></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>Chesapeake Bay</h3> + + +<p>The stingaree swam slowly through the warm waters of Chesapeake Bay. +Geography meant nothing to the ray, whose sole interest in life was +food, but his position—had he known it—was in the channel that runs +between Poplar Island and the town of Wittman on the Eastern Shore of +Maryland. The ray was also directly in the path of an odd-looking +cruising houseboat, the <i>Spindrift</i>, that had just rounded the north +point of Poplar Island and entered the channel.</p> + +<p>The sting ray's color was an olive brown, so dark in tone that he looked +like wet black leather. He was roughly diamond-shaped, like a kite, with +rounded sides. He had a long, slim tail that carried vicious barbs along +the base of its upper side. It was from the barbs, which served as +defensive weapons, that the name sting ray, or stingaree, derived. The +ray was harmless to men—unless one chanced to step on him as he lay +resting on the bottom ooze. At such rare times, his tail would lash up, +inflicting a serious and painful wound.</p> + +<p>A tiny crab, hatched only a week before, swam upward toward the gleaming +surface, his churning legs making a slight disturbance. The ray sensed +the small vibrations and instantly changed course, speeding through the +water like a fantastic spaceship of the future. Intent on the crab, the +ray ignored the stronger vibrations caused by a pair of outboard motors +and a long, flat-bottomed hull. Not until the crab was within reach did +the ray sense imminent danger. With a single flashing movement, he +snatched the crab and flung himself upward through the shining surface +and into the air.</p> + +<p>Rick Brant, at the helm of the cruising houseboat, saw the ray break +water and he let out a yell. "Scotty! Look!"</p> + +<p>Don Scott, asleep at full length on the houseboat's sun deck, which was +also its cabin top, awoke in time to see the dark shape reenter the calm +water. "Stingaree!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>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 eastern +land and water birds, regional fish and reptiles, rested on the cabin +top before him, along with a pair of binoculars. He had used them all +repeatedly, identifying eagles, wild swans, ospreys, wild duck and +geese, terrapin, snapping turtles and water snakes, as well as a horde +of lesser creatures. Trailing lines over the houseboat stern had +captured striped sea bass, called "rockfish" locally, a species of +drumfish called "spot" because of a black spot on the gills, pink +croakers that the Marylanders called "hardheads," and the blue crabs for +which the bay is famous. He had seen clam dredges bringing up bushels of +soft-shelled, long-necked clams that the dredgers called "manos," and he +had seen the famous Maryland "bugeyes" and "skip-jacks"—sailing craft +used for dredging oysters. The boats were not operated during the oyster +breeding season from the end of March until September.</p> + +<p>Rick's interest in the life of the great bay was to be expected. As son +of the director of the world-famous Spindrift Scientific Foundation, +located on Spindrift Island off the coast of New Jersey, he had been +brought up among scientists. The habit of observation had developed +along with his natural—and insatiable—curiosity.</p> + +<p>The tall, slim, brown-haired, brown-eyed boy was completely happy. He +enjoyed casual living, especially on the water, and life on the +<i>Spindrift</i> couldn't have been more casual. He was dressed in a tattered +pair of shorts and a wristwatch. Once, in the cool of the evening, he +had slipped on a sweat shirt. Otherwise, the shorts had been his sole +attire while on board since leaving his home island a few days before.</p> + +<p>Scotty, a husky, dark-haired boy clad only in red swimming trunks, came +down 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 we +are? Last thing I remember, we were passing under the Bay Bridge off +Annapolis."</p> + +<p>"That's Bloody Point Lighthouse behind us," Rick said. "Poplar Island is +on the starboard and the Eastern Shore to port. That black thing +sticking up ahead of us is a light buoy. When we reach it, we should be +able to see the range markers into Knapps Narrows."</p> + +<p>Scotty checked the chart on the table hinged to the bulkhead formed by +the rear cabin wall. "What time is it?"</p> + +<p>Rick glanced at his watch. "Five after six. Time for chow. Want to +rustle up something? Or shall we eat at Knapps Narrows? The cruising +guide says there's a restaurant there."</p> + +<p>"Let's eat out," Scotty replied promptly. "I'm sick of my cooking—and +yours. I'd like some Maryland crab cakes like those we had in Chesapeake +City."</p> + +<p>Rick remembered with pleasure. "Suits me."</p> + +<p>"Think we'll get to Steve's tonight?" Scotty asked.</p> + +<p>"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 before +reaching Steve's. I don't want to tackle these Chesapeake backwaters at +night."</p> + +<p>The destination of the houseboat was the summer cottage of Rick's old +friend, Steve Ames, who was also a chief agent of JANIG, the top-secret +Federal security organization. The boys, and the Spindrift scientists, +had worked on several cases for JANIG, starting with the adventure of +<i>The Whispering Box Mystery</i>. Steve was responsible for Rick's ownership +of the houseboat, which had been named for Rick's home island on the +grounds that it was now his "home away from home."</p> + +<p>Rick's first glimpse of the houseboat had been from the air. At the +request of Steve Ames, he, Scotty, his sister Barby, and Jan Miller, +daughter of one of the Spindrift physicists, had been searching the +coast of New Jersey for signs of strangers in the area. Barby had +spotted the houseboat, which at that time was painted a bright orange. +Later, the houseboat had played a major role in the adventure of <i>The +Electronic Mind Reader</i>, and Rick had fought for his life and the safety +of the two girls in the very cabin behind which he now stood. The +houseboat had been impounded by Federal authorities, and recently Steve +had mentioned to Rick that it was to be auctioned. After consulting with +his family, Rick had entered a bid for the boat. His bid had been the +only one, and he became owner at what was close to a salvage price.</p> + +<p>It was Rick's pride that his chief possessions had been bought with his +own money, and the houseboat was no exception. Like his first plane, the +Cub, he expected the houseboat to pay its own way. Rick had recovered +his investment in the Cub by using it to operate Spindrift Island's +ferry service to the mainland. Rick flew the scientists to Newark +Airport when they had to catch planes, or he flew to Whiteside for +groceries, or into New York to pick up parts and supplies. The houseboat +could not be used in the same way, but he was sure he could get its +price back by renting it to summer visitors to the New Jersey area. He +had repainted it in two shades of green with a white top, and had made a +few other improvements.</p> + +<p>Before renting the boat, however, he intended to have an extended +houseboat vacation. He and Scotty had left Spindrift Island, headed +south into Manasquan Inlet, and then sailed into the inland waterway. By +easy stages—the houseboat could make only ten miles an hour—they had +moved 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's +summer cottage.</p> + +<p>Rick's parents, with Barby and Jan, were now on their way to Wallops +Island rocket range operated by the National Aeronautics and Space +Administration. Hartson Brant had business there in connection with +instruments the Spindrift group of scientists had designed for measuring +solar X rays. The instruments would be launched in rockets. Wallops +Island was near Chincoteague, Virginia, just across the +Maryland-Virginia border on the long peninsula called "The Eastern +Shore" that runs between Chesapeake Bay and the Atlantic Ocean. By car, +Wallops was less than two hours from Steve's summer cottage.</p> + +<p>As soon as his business was concluded, Hartson Brant planned to drive to +Steve's, where the Brants and the two girls would join Rick and Scotty +for a vacation on the houseboat. There was plenty of room. The +<i>Spindrift</i> was thirty feet long and ten feet wide, and had two cabins. +Four could sleep in the forward cabin, and two amidships where the +galley, dinette, and bath were located. Steve had agreed to drive the +Brant car to Spindrift on his next trip to New York. The houseboat, with +the full clan aboard, would travel leisurely back to the home island.</p> + +<p>Rick was delighted with the arrangements. The Brants—and that included +Scotty, who had become one of them after his discharge from the United +States Marine Corps—were a close-knit family whose members enjoyed +doing things together. Rick considered Jan Miller, Barby's dearest +friend, a welcome addition to the party.</p> + +<p>"Range light ahead," Scotty said.</p> + +<p>Rick nodded. The light was set atop a black piling. The color meant he +would have to pass it to port, then pick up the red beacon at the +entrance to the Narrows, passing the red beacon to starboard. This was +in accordance with the old sailors' rule: <i>red right returning</i>, which +means keep red markers and buoys on the starboard, or right, when +returning from seaward. It was fun navigating in strange waters. He had +never 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.</p> + +<p>The houseboat plowed ahead, its twin outboards purring. Its bow, rounded +like the front of a toboggan, slapped into a slight swell. Rick passed +the range light and headed for the red tower that marked the opening of +the Narrows. In a few moments they were in the Narrows, passing lines of +docked crab, oyster, and clam boats. There was a bridge ahead, with a +gasoline dock in its shadow. Rick gauged wind and current and decided +how he would maneuver into place. The current was heavy in the channel, +running in the direction in which he was headed.</p> + +<p>"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 us +facing the way we came, so we won't have to turn when we leave."</p> + +<p>In a short time the maneuver was completed. Rick edged the rounded nose +of the houseboat against the seawall as Scotty stepped ashore carrying +the bowline. He snubbed it tightly around a piling and held fast while +the ungainly boat swung with the current. Rick stepped to the seawall +with the stern line as the craft swung completely around, and the boys +made the boat fast.</p> + +<p>"Now," Scotty said, "let's gas up and eat."</p> + +<p>After filling the gas tanks, loading the icebox with fresh ice, and +topping off the water tank, the boys slipped into shirts, slacks, and +shoes, then headed for the restaurant that adjoined the dock. Over +delicious, spicy Maryland crab cakes and coffee, they talked with the +proprietor, a friendly, heavy-set Eastern Shore man who spoke with the +typical slurred accents of the region.</p> + +<p>"Quite a boat you got there," the man said.</p> + +<p>Rick grinned. "It does look sort of odd, but it's comfortable."</p> + +<p>"Expect so. Thought it was a seagoin' flyin' saucer when I saw it comin' +through the Narrows."</p> + +<p>Scotty munched crab cake appreciatively. "Seen many flying saucers +around here?" he asked whimsically.</p> + +<p>"A few."</p> + +<p>The boys stared.</p> + +<p>The man smiled at the reaction. "Didn't expect that? It's true. We see +one now and again."</p> + +<p>"Really?" Rick asked.</p> + +<p>"Sure as geese fly. Don't know that they're really flyin' saucers like +we read about in the Washington and Baltimore papers—we get both—but +they're somethin' strange. Not natural, anyway."</p> + +<p>The boys looked at each other. There was no doubt that the proprietor +believed what he was saying. He was as casual as though reporting a +catch of fish.</p> + +<p>"Seen any recently?" Scotty inquired.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"Funny we haven't seen anything about it in the papers," Rick commented.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know. Used to be we'd report 'em, and the papers carried a +few lines. But the way the stories got written, you'd think us Eastern +Shore folks were short a few marbles. We got tired of being laughed at, +so no one says much about the saucers any more."</p> + +<p>"But lots of people see them?" Scotty asked.</p> + +<p>"Sure. Anyone that happens to be outdoors."</p> + +<p>"Ever report these sightings to the authorities?" Rick wanted to know.</p> + +<p>"Did at first. Called the State Police myself. The Coast Guard boys are +located right here at the Narrows, and they reported to Baltimore. +Nothin' happened. The authorities aren't sold on flyin' saucers, you +might say. I guess the last report was when Link Harris was kidnaped by +one."</p> + +<p>Rick's scalp prickled. "You honestly mean someone was kidnaped by a +flying saucer?"</p> + +<p>"It's the only thing we can think of. Link went out to set his crab +lines, like always, and never came home. We set out to find him, and we +found his boat all right, but no Link. One of the saucers was seen by +several folks, and they said later it seemed right over where he was +workin' at about the time he was there."</p> + +<p>The boys digested this startling information. "Maybe he was drowned," +Rick ventured.</p> + +<p>"In a creek? Not likely! Link's been crabbin' for thirty years in these +waters. Water was smooth. Not a ripple, even out on the bay. Even if he +fell 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. Shore +wasn't more than twenty yards away."</p> + +<p>"Maybe he hit his head when he fell," Scotty suggested.</p> + +<p>"Possible, but even if he drowned we'd have found his body."</p> + +<p>Rick shook his head. "It's hard to believe a man could be kidnaped by a +flying saucer. Couldn't he have gone ashore and walked out of the area? +Maybe he <i>wanted</i> to disappear."</p> + +<p>"You're mighty hard to convince," the proprietor said good-humoredly. It +was clear he didn't particularly care whether they were convinced or +not. He was making conversation just to be sociable. "Where Link was +settin' lines is just a little creek with marsh all around. No man with +any sense would get out of a boat and go ashore into marshland, now +would he? Besides, there's no reason Link would want to disappear. He +lived all alone and did about what he pleased. Crabs netted him enough +money for his needs."</p> + +<p>"How long ago did this happen?" Rick asked.</p> + +<p>"Two, three weeks. Not long."</p> + +<p>"Where?" Scotty queried.</p> + +<p>"Few miles south. In a creek off the Little Choptank."</p> + +<p>"That's where we're going!" Rick exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"So? Well, watch for Swamp Creek. It's on the chart. That's where they +got Link. Where you headed?"</p> + +<p>"A place called Martins Creek," Rick replied.</p> + +<p>"Uh-huh. Well, Martins is on the south shore, and Swamp Creek is on the +north, about three miles closer to the river mouth. You'll pass it on +the way. Better keep an eye open. That boat of yours might attract +flyin' saucers the way a decoy attracts ducks."</p> + +<p>Rick saw the twinkle in the proprietor's eye. "We'll set a bear trap on +the upper deck," he said. "Any flying saucer tries to pick us up, the +pilot will catch one of his six legs in it."</p> + +<p>"Likely," the man agreed. "You catch one, bring it to the Narrows, will +you? Always wanted to see one at close range."</p> + +<p>"We'll do that," Rick agreed, and no premonition or hunch warned him how +close he and Scotty would come to carrying out the promise.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>The Flying Stingaree</h3> + + +<p>Someone once said that the Chesapeake Bay "looks like the deck plan of +an octopus," but the mental image created by the phrase tells but a +fraction of the story. Rivers and creeks empty into the bay by the +dozens, and every river, and most of the creeks, have tributaries. Even +some of the tributaries have tributaries. The result is thousands of +miles of navigable waters, forming a maze of waterways that it would +take most of a lifetime of weekend cruising to explore.</p> + +<p>The cruising houseboat <i>Spindrift</i> moved steadily across the mouth of +one of the principal waterways of the Eastern Shore, the Choptank River. +It was a good three miles across the river's mouth, and Rick occupied +the time by reading aloud to Scotty, who was piloting.</p> + +<p>"'The Choptank River is navigable for large ships to the city of +Cambridge, a principal Eastern Shore port. Yachts will find the river +navigable for twenty miles beyond Cambridge, depending on their draft, +while boats of shallow draft can cruise all the way into the State of +Delaware.'" Rick paused in his reading and looked up. "Be fun to go up +one of these rivers to the source, wouldn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Maybe we can," Scotty replied. "Read on."</p> + +<p>"'The name Choptank comes from the Choptank Indians who lived in the +area until the middle of the nineteenth century. These Indians were +first discovered by Captain John Smith when he sailed into Chesapeake +Bay in search of a location for what later became the Jamestown +Colony.'"</p> + +<p>"We're sailing through history," Scotty commented. "And we'd better step +on it." He pushed the throttles forward. The houseboat accelerated to +its top speed of about twelve miles an hour.</p> + +<p>"What's up?" Rick demanded.</p> + +<p>"Look to the southwest. That must be one of those Chesapeake Bay squalls +the book warns about."</p> + +<p>There was a black line of clouds some distance away, but Rick could see +that the squall line was moving fast, crossing the bay in their +direction. He swung the chart table up and studied the situation. They +were close to the south shore of the Choptank River now, and the chart +showed no easily accessible place of shelter in the vicinity. They would +have to run for the Little Choptank, the next river to the south. The +chart showed several creeks off the Little Choptank. They could duck +into the one nearest the river mouth.</p> + +<p>"Can we ride it out if we have to?" Rick asked.</p> + +<p>Scotty grinned. "We'll find out, if we have to. But I'd rather not be in +open water when a squall hits this barge. It's not built for storms. +Keep your fingers crossed and hope we get to cover before it hits."</p> + +<p>"I hear you talking. I'm going to do a little research." Rick ducked +into the cabin and took the tide tables from the bookshelf. Back on +deck, he leafed through the official publication and found that the +nearest point for tidal data was the Choptank River Light, only a few +miles away and clearly visible. High and low tides at the light were +about three hours and fifteen minutes earlier than Baltimore, the data +station for the area. Rick checked Baltimore data for the date, +subtracted quickly, and glanced at his watch.</p> + +<p>"High tide in about a half hour. The chart shows three feet near shore +at mean low water. High tide will bring it up to four and a half at the +very least. That's plenty for this barge. Get inshore and cut corners. +We won't have to stick to the channel."</p> + +<p>Scotty swung the wheel instantly, and the houseboat took a new course, +leading them closer to shore. "Better keep an eye out for logs or +pilings," Scotty warned. "No rocks in the area, so we don't have to +worry about shoals."</p> + +<p>The wooded shore slid by, the trees gradually giving way to low scrub +and marsh grass as they neared the mouth of the Little Choptank. Rick +alternately kept an eye out ahead and checked their position on the +chart. They were in about five feet of water, more than enough for the +shallow-draft houseboat. His principal worry was the outboard +propellers. He didn't want to break one on a log that might be sticking +up underwater.</p> + +<p>The squall was closer now, and the sky was growing dark. Rick estimated +that they had no more than ten minutes before the storm would hit. He +had to look up at a sharp angle to see the storm front. Visibility was +down to zero directly under it. Whitecaps and a roiling sea told him +there was plenty of wind in the squall. He doubted that the houseboat +could head into it successfully. The wind would catch the high cabin +sides and force the houseboat onto the shore.</p> + +<p>Scotty swung around the northern tip of land that marked the mouth of +the Little Choptank. "We won't make it," he said, glancing at the chart.</p> + +<p>Rick nodded. "But the wind will be behind us. We can drive right into +the mouth of the nearest creek. According to the chart, there's a cove +just inside the mouth where we ought to be out of the wind." He put his +finger on the place, and suddenly a chill ran through him. The nearest +safe harbor was Swamp Creek, where Link Harris had vanished!</p> + +<p>There wasn't time to talk about it. He would have to be prepared to drop +the anchor quickly. "I'm going up on the bow," he said. "Once into the +creek, turn as hard as you can into the wind, then cut the power. I'll +heave the anchor over and the wind pressure on the boat can set it. But +keep the motors turning over in case it doesn't hold."</p> + +<p>"Got it," Scotty agreed.</p> + +<p>Rick stepped out of the cockpit onto the catwalk. The cabin top was just +chest-high, and he could hold on by grabbing the safety rails that ran +along the sides of the large sun deck. He moved swiftly along the walk +to the foredeck, a small semicircular deck used primarily for docking +and anchoring. The anchor line was coiled on a hook on the curving front +of the cabin, and the patent anchor was stowed on the deck itself. Rick +took the coil and faked down the line in smooth figure eights so it +would run out without fouling, then made sure the anchor was free and +ready to go.</p> + +<p>When Rick stood up and looked down the length of the cabin top at +Scotty, he saw that the squall was almost on them. The turbulent cloud +front was directly overhead. He saw the wind line, marked by turbulent +water, move swiftly toward the houseboat. The <i>Spindrift</i> rocked as +though shaken by a giant hand, and its speed picked up appreciably. The +houseboat began to pitch as the chop built up around it. Visibility +dropped suddenly; it was almost dark. Rick winced as large, hard-driven +raindrops lashed into his face, then he turned his back to the storm and +stared ahead.</p> + +<p>The creek mouth was in sight. He pointed to it for Scotty's benefit, but +when he turned to look at his pal, the driving rain slashed into his +eyes and made him look away.</p> + +<p>Scotty had seen the creek mouth. Staying as close to shore as he dared, +Scotty drove the houseboat to within fifty yards of the narrow mouth, +then swung the helm hard. The wind, which had been astern, was now abeam +and its force was acting on the high side of the boat. The houseboat +slewed sideways, and for a moment Rick thought they would be driven on +to the upstream bank of the creek. But Scotty had judged his distance +and wind pressure well. The boat shot into the creek mouth with feet to +spare.</p> + +<p>The cove opened up ahead. Scotty reversed one motor and the houseboat +turned almost in its own length. Rick watched the shore through +squinting eyes, and the moment he saw the boat's forward motion cease, +he dropped the big anchor over. The wind caught the houseboat again and +drove it backward into the cove while the anchor line ran out. When he +had enough line out for safety, Rick snubbed it tight around a cleat, +held the taut line between thumb and forefinger until he was sure it had +none of the vibrations caused by a dragging anchor, and then hurried +back along the catwalk to the cockpit. He and Scotty ran from the +rainswept deck down the two steps into the cabin.</p> + +<p>For a moment the two stood grinning at each other and listening to the +heavy drumming of the rain on the cabin top, then Rick spoke. "We'd +better get out of these wet clothes so we can sit down. This may last +for an hour or so."</p> + +<p>Scotty agreed. "First one into dry shorts makes the coffee."</p> + +<p>"That's me," Rick said. He stripped off the soaking clothes, toweled +quickly, and put on dry shorts. The rain had chilled the air, so he +reached into the drawer under the amidships bunks, took out a sweat +shirt, and pulled it over his head. It felt good.</p> + +<p>Scotty had taken time to dry off the books and binoculars he had brought +from the deck before he changed his own clothes. By the time he was +dressed in dry shorts and sweater, Rick had the alcohol stove going and +water heating for coffee.</p> + +<p>"Know where we are?" Rick asked casually.</p> + +<p>"Sure. We're—" Scotty stopped. "For Pete's sake! I didn't make the +connection at first. We're in Swamp Creek, where that man got snatched +by a flying saucer!"</p> + +<p>"Right. Worried?"</p> + +<p>Scotty grinned. "Any flying saucer that can navigate in this weather is +welcome to what it gets. How's the anchor?"</p> + +<p>"Holding," Rick said. "I hope." He looked out the galley window and +watched the shore. It changed position as the boat moved, but that was +only because the houseboat was swinging at anchor. "Seems all right," he +added.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later coffee was ready. The boys sat at the dinette table +and sipped with relish, listening to the storm outside. It seemed to be +increasing in intensity.</p> + +<p>"Picking up," Scotty said. "The guidebook wasn't kidding when it said +'sudden and severe summer storms lash the bay.'"</p> + +<p>"Wonder how long they last?" Rick asked.</p> + +<p>"Hard to say. Perhaps an hour."</p> + +<p>The houseboat jerked suddenly. Rick jumped to his feet. "Did you feel +that?"</p> + +<p>The boat heeled under the lash of wind. Rick peeled off his sweat shirt. +"Feels as though the anchor dragged a little. I'm going out and let out +more scope. We can't take a chance of drifting in this wind."</p> + +<p>"I'll go," Scotty offered.</p> + +<p>"No. I put the anchor down. It's my fault if it slips. Stand by."</p> + +<p>Rick pulled the cabin door open and winced at the blast of raindrops, +like heavy buckshot on his face and body. For a moment he hesitated, +then realized the sooner he got it over with, the better. He hurried to +the catwalk and swung down it, meanwhile estimating his distances. He +could let out another fifty feet of anchor line without getting the boat +too near shore. The more anchor line out, the better the anchor could +hold.</p> + +<p>He made the forward deck and looked around, realizing that the wind +direction had changed and that the blast was now coming down the creek, +swinging the houseboat around. That probably was why the anchor had +shifted. He knelt and took the line in his fingers. It no longer seemed +to be slipping, but it was better not to take a chance. He unloosed the +half hitches that held it to the cleat, threw off all but one +figure-eight turn, and let the anchor line run out slowly. When he +estimated about fifty feet had run through, he put on more figure eights +around the cleat, then dropped half hitches over to secure the line. +Once more he reached out and held the taut line. It didn't seem to be +slipping. He pulled on it hard, and felt the boat move. The anchor was +in solidly this time.</p> + +<p>Rick turned and started back to the catwalk, rain lashing his back. +Sudden instinct made him whirl around in time to see something huge and +black rushing at him out of the storm. Rain blurred his vision. He had a +swift impression of a black figure, shaped like a diamond, coming at +him. He threw himself flat on the foredeck. There was a rustling sound +overhead, and something clanged off the cabin top's aluminum rail. Rick +was on his feet again. Heart pounding, he looked around. There was +nothing but rain and wind. He stood upright and looked across the cabin +top. For an instant he glimpsed a black object above the canopy over the +rear cockpit, then that, too, was lost in the rain.</p> + +<p>Shaken, Rick made his way back to the cabin, entered, closed the door, +and leaned against it. Scotty looked up, and was on his feet in an +instant.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus56.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"Rick! What happened? You're white as a sheet!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Saw one," Rick managed. He was still shaking. "It went right over the +boat. I think it hit the upper rail. We'll check later. But it wasn't a +flying saucer. I'm sure of that."</p> + +<p>"What was it?" Scotty demanded.</p> + +<p>"A flying stingaree!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>Orvil Harris, Crabber</h3> + + +<p>Rick Brant awoke to the sound of a motor. For a moment he lay quietly in +his bunk, listening. The sun through the cabin windows told him it was +early in the morning. The sunlight still had the red quality of early +sunrise. He watched the light shift as the houseboat swung on its +anchor.</p> + +<p>By the time the storm last night had ended, darkness had set in, and it +was only sensible to turn on the anchor light and remain in the Swamp +Creek cove for the night. In spite of his unsettling experience, Rick +and Scotty had not been deeply disturbed. Neither he nor Scotty believed +in flying saucers—at least, not in saucers that kidnaped people, and +the object Rick had seen had not been saucer-like. It had been shaped +like a stingaree.</p> + +<p>Stingarees don't fly.</p> + +<p>Rick smiled to himself. During another vacation, skin diving in the +Virgin Islands, he and Scotty had proved that octopuses don't wail. But +if stingarees don't fly, he asked himself, what looks like a stingaree +and <i>does</i> fly?</p> + +<p>He realized suddenly that the sound of the motor was louder once again. +Someone investigating the houseboat? He swung out of bed. The cool air +of morning was in sharp contrast to the warmth of his sleeping bag. +Quickly he slipped into shorts and sweat shirt. As he opened the cabin +door, he heard the slap of bare feet on the deck behind him and turned +to see Scotty regain his balance after dropping from the upper bunk.</p> + +<p>"Go ahead," Scotty called. "Be right with you."</p> + +<p>"Okay." Rick stepped out into the cockpit and glanced around. It was a +lovely morning. The ever-present birds of the Chesapeake area were +already active. A huge blue heron stepped daintily in the shallows like +a stilt walker afraid of falling over. The heron was looking for small +fish or anything that moved and was edible. An osprey, the great fish +hawk of the bay region, swooped overhead on lazy wings, sharp eyes alert +for small fish near the water's surface. In the pine woods behind the +shore marsh, a bluejay called, its voice like a squeaky hinge.</p> + +<p>The motor sound was distant now, and the shore upstream blocked Rick's +view. Then, as he watched, a long, low, white motorboat came into sight. +Its bow was vertical, its sides low. There was no cabin. Amidships was a +single man, clad in overalls and a denim shirt. The man was surrounded +by bushel baskets, and he held a long-handled crab net made of chicken +wire.</p> + +<p>Rick watched with interest. On one side of the boat was a roller that +extended out over the water. A heavy cord came out of the water, crossed +the roller, and dipped back into the water again. Every few feet there +was a chunk of something on the cord, apparently bait. As Rick watched, +a piece of bait came up with a crab clinging to it. The net swooped and +the crab was caught, pulled inboard, and dumped into a bushel basket +with one fluid motion. The crabber never took his eyes from the cord. +The boat continued in a straight line.</p> + +<p>Scotty came out on deck and joined Rick. The boys watched in silence +while the man caught a dozen crabs, then picked one from the bait and +flipped it into the water.</p> + +<p>"Too small, I guess," Rick commented.</p> + +<p>"Must be. Where does the line go?"</p> + +<p>Rick pointed. A gallon oilcan, painted blue and white, bobbed gently in +the creek. "That's where he's heading."</p> + +<p>The crabber approached the can, then flipped the line off the roller. +Using a lever next to him, he turned the boat and headed toward another +can some distance away. A quick pull with a boat hook and the line +attached to the can was placed over the roller. Crabs appeared, holding +onto the bait as the boat moved along the new line. Rick counted. The +crabber was getting about one crab for every three baits.</p> + +<p>Scotty leaned over the cockpit rail. "There's the end of his line, over +near shore. He'll pass close to us."</p> + +<p>"That's why the motor sounded loud," Rick guessed. "He moves from one +line to another. Last time he came by the boat he woke me up."</p> + +<p>"Same here." Scotty nodded.</p> + +<p>The crabber moved methodically, his boat proceeding at a steady pace +toward the houseboat. As he came abreast, he called, "Mornin'."</p> + +<p>The boys returned the greeting.</p> + +<p>"Looks like a good catch," Scotty called.</p> + +<p>"Fair. Only fair." The crabber scooped up a huge blue crab from almost +under their noses and went on his way.</p> + +<p>"If it's only fair now, what must it be like when it's good?" Rick asked +with a grin.</p> + +<p>"Two crabs on every hunk of bait," Scotty said. "You count crabs and +I'll make coffee."</p> + +<p>"That's my boy," Rick said approvingly.</p> + +<p>Scotty went into the cabin and left Rick watching the crabber. Rick +tried to figure out all the details. After a short time he concluded +that the floats were attached to anchors of some kind. The anchors kept +the crab line on the bottom, except when it was running over the roller. +He also saw that there were no hooks or other gadgets. The crabs were +caught simply because they refused to let go of the bait.</p> + +<p>The aroma of coffee drifted through the cabin door, and Rick wondered +why it is that coffee, bacon, and other breakfast scents are so much +more tantalizing on the water.</p> + +<p>The crabber approached on the leg of his journey closest to the boat. On +impulse, Rick called, "Come aboard and have some coffee?"</p> + +<p>The man grinned. Without missing his smooth swing at a rising crab, he +called back, "Don't mind. That coffee smell was drivin' me nigh crazy. +Be back when I finish this line."</p> + +<p>Rick leaned into the cabin. "Company for coffee, Scotty."</p> + +<p>"Heard you. Got another cup all ready. In here or out there?"</p> + +<p>"Out here. It's too nice to be inside."</p> + +<p>In a few moments the motorboat, which turned out to be as long as the +houseboat, came alongside. Rick took the line thrown by the crabber and +made it fast so that the crab boat would drift astern. He looked into +the boat with interest. Covers on four baskets showed that the crabber +had collected four bushels of crabs. A fifth and sixth basket were half +full, one with very large crabs, the other with smaller ones.</p> + +<p>The crabber swung aboard. He was of medium height, with light-blue eyes +set in a tanned and weather-beaten face. Rick guessed his age to be +somewhere in the mid-forties. He smiled, showing even teeth that were +glaringly white in his tanned face.</p> + +<p>"Name's Orvil Harris," he announced.</p> + +<p>"Rick Brant." Rick shook hands. "That's Don Scott coming out with the +coffee."</p> + +<p>Scotty put down the coffeepot and mugs he was carrying and shook hands. +"Call me Scotty, Mr. Harris. How do you like your coffee?"</p> + +<p>"Strong and often," Harris replied. "Plain black. Call me Orvil."</p> + +<p>Like all visitors, Harris was interested in the houseboat. "Been hopin' +for a look inside," he said in his slurred Eastern Shore accent. "Almost +gave up hope. You get up late, seems like."</p> + +<p>Rick glanced at the sun. "Must be all of seven o'clock. You call that +late?"</p> + +<p>"Been here since four. It's late for me."</p> + +<p>Rick showed Orvil Harris through the boat, then sat with him and Scotty +in the cockpit, sipping steaming coffee. The crabber talked willingly +about his business.</p> + +<p>"Not much profit," he reported, "but it beats workin'."</p> + +<p>After hearing about a crabber's life, rising in the middle of the night, +rain or shine, working crab lines and hauling baskets around until noon, +Rick wondered what Harris would consider hard work. Having spent a +dollar for six steamed crabs a few nights before, he was also amazed to +hear the crabber report that he received only six dollars a bushel for +"jumbo" crabs and three dollars a bushel for "culls," or medium ones. +All under four and a half inches from tip to tip were thrown back.</p> + +<p>Rick waited a courteous length of time before asking the question that +had been on his mind since hearing the crabber's name. "Are you any +relation to Link Harris?"</p> + +<p>"Second cousin." The blue eyes examined him with new interest. "Where'd +you hear about Link?"</p> + +<p>"At the Narrows," Scotty replied. "We were talking about flying +saucers."</p> + +<p>"Flyin' catfish," Harris said scornfully. "You swallow that yarn?"</p> + +<p>"Didn't you?" Rick asked quickly.</p> + +<p>"Not any. That why you picked this creek to anchor in when there's so +many nicer ones upstream?"</p> + +<p>Scotty explained. "We ducked in here to get out of that squall last +night. We didn't exactly pick it. Afterward, we realized where we were."</p> + +<p>"Why don't you believe the story about Link Harris?" Rick wanted to +know.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I believe some of it." The crabber took out a blackened, much-used +pipe and stoked it. "Link disappeared, all right. We found his boat +yonder." He pointed to a spot on the marshy shore.</p> + +<p>"He didn't drown?" Rick pressed.</p> + +<p>Harris shrugged. "Not very likely. We'd have found his body. Way the +tides were that day, there was no ebb tide strong enough to carry a body +out into deep water. The creek was clear. We'd have seen him."</p> + +<p>"Then where did he go?" Scotty demanded.</p> + +<p>"Can't say. When he disappeared, I went to Baltimore and bought every +book on flyin' saucers I could lay hands on. All I know for sure is that +what folks have been seein' around here ain't saucers. Shape's wrong, +color's wrong, and they don't move the way the books say."</p> + +<p>"Would you say they were diamond-shaped, dark in color, with tails?" +Rick asked carefully.</p> + +<p>Harris stopped with a match halfway to his pipe. "I would. For sure. +When'd you see one?"</p> + +<p>"Last night. Right here."</p> + +<p>"Mmmmm." Harris got the pipe going well and threw the match into the +water. "I've never seen one close. Hoped to. That's why I crab this +creek. Would you say it was big enough to catch a man?"</p> + +<p>Rick shook his head. "I didn't get a very long look, but I'd say +definitely not. Unless it had some kind of powerful motor I couldn't see +or hear."</p> + +<p>Harris puffed silently.</p> + +<p>"Any theories?" Scotty asked.</p> + +<p>"Not one. I'm barren as the flats in winter."</p> + +<p>Rick finished his coffee and put the mug down on the cabin top. "Would +Link have gone away of his own accord?"</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't think so." Harris accepted more coffee from Scotty. "But +let's keep one foot anchored. Who knows what's in a man's mind? Any man? +Sometimes there's a deep channel full of black water, and nothin' to +make you suspect it. Maybe Link did walk off. It would be the easiest +explanation—if you hadn't seen somethin' last night. I was about to +give up. Now I'm not so sure. What you saw came from somewhere, and it +was goin' somewhere. If we could find out whence and whither, so to +speak, we might have an idea of what happened to Link."</p> + +<p>Harris drew erect. "Speakin' of whence and whither, what's your +destination?"</p> + +<p>"We're visiting a friend," Rick answered. "He lives on Martins Creek on +the south side of the river. Name is Ames."</p> + +<p>Harris nodded. "I know who he is. Washington man. Has a summer place."</p> + +<p>"You've met him?" Scotty inquired.</p> + +<p>"So to speak. We've howdy'd, but we haven't shook."</p> + +<p>Rick smothered a grin at the picturesque phrase.</p> + +<p>"I'd better get back to crabs," Harris said. "I'm mighty grateful for +the hospitality. You get to town, look me up, and give me a chance to +return it." He shook hands with both boys, pulled his boat alongside, +and stepped aboard. In a short time, he was running the crab lines +again.</p> + +<p>"Interesting," Rick said noncommittally.</p> + +<p>Scotty chuckled. "Here we go again. Sherlock Brant's got his teeth into +a nice fat mystery. Good-by vacation."</p> + +<p>Rick had to grin. "It's not that bad," he said defensively. "I just +thought we might sniff around a little."</p> + +<p>"That's what I thought you thought. Come on, Hawkshaw. Let's get some +bacon and eggs on the fire and haul anchor."</p> + +<p>"Okay." Rick checked the chart. "We're only about twenty minutes' run +from Steve's place. If we eat here, he won't think he has to feed us +breakfast."</p> + +<p>"Considerate," Scotty agreed, grinning. "I can see you now. You walk up +the dock, shake hands, and say, 'Glad to see you, Steve. Don't bother +about breakfast. We've eaten. By the way, have you had any trouble with +flying stingarees?'"</p> + +<p>Rick grinned back. "Not bad predicting. Actually, I was going to wait +for the right opportunity, then say, 'Wonderful hunting and fishing +country, Steve. By the way, when does the hunting season open for flying +stingarees?'"</p> + +<p>Scotty laughed. "Okay. Only let's get going. I want to see how he +answers!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>Steve's Place</h3> + + +<p>A red buoy marked the entrance to Martins Creek. Rick, at the helm, +passed it close to starboard and headed into the center of the creek. +Past the wooded shores of the creek entrance, he could see fields, +obviously tended, and more woods.</p> + +<p>"Steve's place should be the second on the left," Scotty said. "The +first house with a dock."</p> + +<p>"Use the binoculars," Rick suggested. "We should be able to see it when +we round the next bend."</p> + +<p>The houseboat passed the first house, a small, modern dwelling set close +to the water. A rowboat was hauled up on the shore. The creek rounded a +wooded promontory and the next house came into view. Steve's!</p> + +<p>Rick's eager eyes saw an attractive farmhouse, set well back from the +water in a frame of willows and white oaks. There was an acre of green +lawn in front of the house, the lawn running down to the water's edge. A +small dock jutted out into the creek. Tied to one side of it was a +sturdy runabout with an outboard motor.</p> + +<p>"Pretty," Scotty approved.</p> + +<p>Rick nodded. The farmhouse was half frame, half white brick, with a +slate roof. It was apparently only one story high. On impulse, Rick gave +a long blast on the boat horn.</p> + +<p>The front door opened and a man looked out, then walked swiftly down to +the dock, waving. The boys waved back.</p> + +<p>"Get the lines ready," Rick requested. "I'll back in."</p> + +<p>He throttled down and let the houseboat move slowly past the dock while +he yelled a greeting to Steve Ames. There were no obstacles, and just +enough room for the boat. He reversed his motors and threw his helm hard +over, backing slowly into position. Scotty stood ready with a line, +which he heaved to Steve. Then Scotty ran lightly to the foredeck and +got the bowline ready. The houseboat nestled against the dock smoothly +and Rick killed the motors. Then the three old friends were shaking +hands and grinning from ear to ear.</p> + +<p>"I've been watching since yesterday afternoon," Steve told them. "That +storm last night worried me some. I didn't know whether you could ride +it out or not."</p> + +<p>"No trouble," Rick said. "We ran into Swamp Creek on the north side of +the river and spent the night there." He watched the agent's face +closely, but Steve didn't react.</p> + +<p>"Come on in," Steve invited. "Coffee's on. Had your breakfast?"</p> + +<p>"We ate before hauling anchor," Scotty said, grinning.</p> + +<p>Steve Ames knew the boys well. "Something's up," he stated. "Rick is +watching me like a suspicious sand crab and your tone of voice is wrong, +Scotty. Coffee first, then talk. Come on."</p> + +<p>Rick shook his head in admiration. It was impossible to catch Steve off +guard. The agent had a deceptive appearance, athletic and good looking, +with the forthright friendliness of a college undergraduate. But his +trained eyes and ears missed nothing.</p> + +<p>Steve's living room was attractive and comfortable, with bookshelves +between the windows, a stone fireplace, a striped rug, and deep, restful +chairs. There were lamps in exactly the right positions for reading.</p> + +<p>The agent brought in a tray of coffee cups, with a pot of coffee and +platter of doughnuts. "Even if you've eaten breakfast, you can manage a +couple of these." He poured coffee and made sure the boys were +comfortable, then sank into an armchair and looked at them quizzically.</p> + +<p>"All right. Out with it."</p> + +<p>Rick chuckled. "You're too sharp," he accused. "We had a plan all cooked +up. I was going to comment on the fishing and hunting, and then +ask—very innocently—when the season for flying stingarees opened."</p> + +<p>The agent's eyebrows went up. "Flying stingarees? Swimming ones, yes. +Open season any time. Flying ones, no. What is all this?"</p> + +<p>"Rick saw one last night in the storm," Scotty explained.</p> + +<p>"That's not all," Rick added. He told of their conversation at the +Narrows and of the talk with Orvil Harris that morning. "So there's +something fishy around here besides crabs and rockfish. We thought you +might know," he concluded.</p> + +<p>Steve shook his head with obvious admiration. "Leave it to the Spindrift +twins! If there's a mystery afoot, you'll unearth it. Nope, lads. Never +heard of your flying stingarees, or flying saucers, either. But that's +not surprising. I'm down here mostly on weekends, sometimes with a +friend or two, and the only local folks we see are at the store or gas +station. Usually I'm in too much of a rush for small talk. I don't get +the local papers, and when I listen to the radio or watch TV, it's +either a Washington or Baltimore station. So I'm not in touch with local +events."</p> + +<p>"Anyway," Rick said, "stingarees don't fly."</p> + +<p>Steve had been in the Virgin Islands, too, and had been involved in the +adventure of <i>The Wailing Octopus</i>. "You found out that the octopus +didn't wail," he reminded them, "but for a while it looked as though +you'd found a new species. Maybe this is the same thing. What makes the +stingaree fly?"</p> + +<p>"It would be fun to find out," Scotty admitted.</p> + +<p>"You'll have time to make a start, and I won't be in the way with plans +for fishing or crabbing. I'm sorry, boys, but I'll be in and out of +Washington for a few days. Got a hot case working that I can't leave for +long."</p> + +<p>The boys protested. "You deserve some vacation," Rick said hotly.</p> + +<p>Steve held up his hand. "Whoa! I'm getting a vacation. This case should +be settled in three or four days, and I'll be with you. Meanwhile, you +move in here. You can drive me to the airport at Cambridge and pick me +up when I come back. That will leave you a car, and you can use the +motorboat for exploring or for fishing. If you feel like skin diving, +you can try for rock or hardheads off the northern tip of Taylors +Island, right at the mouth of the river. Did you bring gear?"</p> + +<p>"The whole set," Rick replied. "Lungs, compressors, guns, and even +suits."</p> + +<p>"You won't need suits. The bay is shallow and warm. At night you can +relax right here. Plenty of books, TV, radio, or a chessboard. If it +gets cool, there's wood for the fireplace."</p> + +<p>"Sounds good," Scotty agreed. "But we wanted you with us."</p> + +<p>"I will be. Before the weekend."</p> + +<p>"When do you have to leave?" Rick asked.</p> + +<p>"Three this afternoon. I have an evening meeting at headquarters. I'll +be back on the four-o'clock flight tomorrow afternoon, and, with luck, I +won't have to go again. If I do, it will be only for a day."</p> + +<p>"Okay," Rick said reluctantly. "We'll settle in, but we won't move in. +We'll sleep on the boat. No need to use up your linens and stuff when we +have sleeping bags if the weather is cold and cotton blankets when it's +warm. Besides, housekeeping is easier on the boat."</p> + +<p>Steve grinned. "I'll bet it is. If I know you two, you eat out of cans +and never use a dish if you can help it. Your idea of washing a coffee +cup is to hold it under running water or to dip it in the bay. Wait +until your mother and the girls join you. Life will undergo a drastic +change."</p> + +<p>"Don't rub it in," Scotty said ruefully. "Now, how about showing us over +this estate of yours?"</p> + +<p>Steve was pleased by the request. He obviously was proud of his +creekside home, and with reason. There were fifty acres of land, mostly +oak forest, with a private access road. Electric power came in from the +public power lines, but he had a gasoline generator in case of failure, +and his own artesian well. He explained:</p> + +<p>"The house has been completely remodeled, but it's really quite old. +When it was built, there was only a wagon track. In those days, the +rivers and creeks were the highways, and the people traveled by boat. +You'll see old mansions fronting on the rivers here. The back doors face +the roads. Water transport was the reason. The landed gentry had barges +rowed by slaves. The poor folks rowed their own. Of course, there were +plenty of sailing craft, too. There still are."</p> + +<p>The creek in front of the house proved deep enough for swimming, and the +three went for a dip. Rick tasted the water. It was salty, but not like +the ocean. The backwaters of the bay were brackish, with low-salt +content.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon, the boys—somewhat reluctantly—got into what they +referred to as "shore-going clothes." These consisted of slacks, sport +shirts, light casual jackets, and loafers. Steve had a bag packed. They +got into his car, a late-model convertible, and headed for Cambridge.</p> + +<p>The plane, a small twin-engine craft, was late coming from Norfolk. By +the time Steve was en route to Washington, it was nearly the dinner +hour.</p> + +<p>"Eat out?" Rick suggested.</p> + +<p>"Absolutely. More crab cakes?"</p> + +<p>Rick shook his head. "Crab imperial. Maybe some steamed clams."</p> + +<p>"You're making me hungry," Scotty protested. "I'll say one thing for the +bay area. The folks eat well. How about some terrapin stew?"</p> + +<p>"Crab imperial," Rick said again. "Baked in a crab shell. Lots of +mayonnaise, paprika, and butter. I'll have a hearts of romaine salad on +the side, with oil-and-vinegar dressing. Maybe tarragon vinegar. A few +French fries, too. But first, a couple of dozen steamed clams. What do +they call 'em here? Manos, pronounced Man! Oh!"</p> + +<p>"Just tell me where," Scotty begged. "Say no more."</p> + +<p>"How about that place we passed just before we got to Cambridge? The one +built like a Colonial mansion."</p> + +<p>"The Bay Gourmet," Scotty remembered. "Okay. You're driving."</p> + +<p>Rick put the convertible in gear and moved out of the airport driveway +onto the highway. "We're on our own," he said. "It's up to us to +entertain ourselves. But food isn't enough. Man cannot live by bread +alone, the Scriptures say."</p> + +<p>"I knew it." Scotty slumped down in the seat and sighed. "Since man +cannot live by bread alone, his life must be filled with other things. +And guess what things!"</p> + +<p>Rick smiled in anticipation. "Uh-huh. Flying stingarees."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>The Face Is Familiar</h3> + + +<p>The Bay Gourmet was all that its outside appearance promised. A waiter, +elderly and courteous, his voice soft with the Eastern Shore accent, led +them to a table in a main dining room that was like something out of +early American history, Maryland style. The Maryland colony had not been +poor, and many of its settlers had been of the English nobility. They +had brought with them furniture, paintings, and chinaware from England +and France, and their homes were gracious and livable.</p> + +<p>The restaurant followed the pattern. Rick wouldn't have been surprised +to see the ghost of Lord Baltimore walk through one of the arches.</p> + +<p>The boys pored over the menus and finally settled on crab gumbo, clam +fritters, and crab imperial. While they waited, Rick opened the subject +that was on his mind. "How does a stingaree fly?"</p> + +<p>Scotty shrugged. "Easy. He climbs to the top of a tall tree, spreads his +wings, and takes off. He flaps his wings to gain altitude. He steers +with his tail."</p> + +<p>"I'm serious," Rick said sternly, his eyes twinkling.</p> + +<p>"So am I. Alternate method: the stingaree climbs on a fence and lassos a +passing airplane. Or catches a ride on an eagle's tail feathers. Take +your choice."</p> + +<p>"I've got a better way. The stingaree poses for his picture. The picture +is used as a model for making a kite, probably of black plastic. The +kite gets flown in the wind."</p> + +<p>Scotty stared. "Maybe—just maybe—you've got something there. The +stingaree shape would make a good kite. Could what you saw have been a +kite?"</p> + +<p>"It's possible." Rick nodded. "The wind was funneling down the creek +pretty fast, and it would have carried a big kite. There's only one +small difficulty. Why launch a kite that has no string?"</p> + +<p>"You certain it didn't have a string?"</p> + +<p>"In that wind, the string would have had to be a cable. I'd have seen +it, and maybe felt it. The kite—stingaree, that is—just missed. Of +course, the string might have broken."</p> + +<p>"There's another small difficulty," Scotty said thoughtfully. "If it was +a kite, where was it launched and why?"</p> + +<p>"Up the creek somewhere. We don't know what's up there."</p> + +<p>"True. From the looks, I'd say not much. Maybe some opossums and +muskrats, which don't launch kites."</p> + +<p>Rick spread butter liberally on a hot biscuit. "We can always take a +look."</p> + +<p>"We can. In Steve's boat, the creek would be only a few minutes away."</p> + +<p>Rick savored the biscuit and took another bite that finished it. "I +could eat a ton of these. What else would make a stingaree fly?"</p> + +<p>Scotty accepted a pitcher of honey from the waiter and poured a +disgraceful amount on a biscuit. "How about some kind of experimental +aircraft?"</p> + +<p>Rick shook his head. "The stingaree was vertical. An experimental plane +in that position would have to be rising straight up, and this creature +was traveling almost horizontally, with the wind. Besides, I heard no +motor or any kind of power plant."</p> + +<p>"You're as lucid as lamplight, ol' buddy. You explain everything—except +what made that stingaree fly."</p> + +<p>Rick grinned wryly. "I'll never get a swelled head with you sticking +pins in it."</p> + +<p>"Only carrying out my proper function," Scotty said virtuously.</p> + +<p>The first course had arrived. Crab gumbo turned out to be spicy, hot, +and very, very good.</p> + +<p>"I may decide to live here," Rick said as he spooned up the last +mouthful.</p> + +<p>"I'm a native already," Scotty stated. "The Chesapeake Bay is my home, +if the rest of the meal lives up to the soup."</p> + +<p>The clam fritters were light, crisp, and succulent. "Meet a brand-new +Marylander," Scotty announced.</p> + +<p>Rick started to reply, then stopped as a party of three entered the +dining room and were shown to a table nearby. He knew one of the men, +but he couldn't remember where they had met.</p> + +<p>"Scotty," he said softly, "look around at the group that just came in. +Who's the man in the plaid jacket? I know him, but I can't remember."</p> + +<p>Scotty's napkin "accidentally" fell to the floor. He had to turn to pick +it up. When he straightened, he shook his head. "The face is familiar, +but I can't place it."</p> + +<p>Rick studied the man through half-lowered lids, not wanting to be rude +by staring openly. The familiar face was lean, and lined. It was not a +pleasant face, although its owner would be described as a +"distinguished-looking man of middle age." The lips were not especially +thin, but they were tightly held. The chin was firm, with a shadow of +beard even though the man looked freshly shaven. His hair was crisp, +wavy, and pure white.</p> + +<p>"Could be of French or Italian ancestry," Rick said. "Or, maybe, Spanish +or Portuguese. Anyway, I'd vote for Southern European."</p> + +<p>"On the button," Scotty agreed.</p> + +<p>Rick's eyes dropped as the man looked their way. The eyes were dark +brown, he saw, with heavy lids. The eyebrows, in startling contrast to +the white hair, were dark.</p> + +<p>The boy looked up again, his glance guarded. The man was smartly, but +conservatively dressed, in dark-blue slacks, white sport shirt open at +the collar, and a linen sport jacket of subdued plaid, much like those +affected by some Ivy Leaguers.</p> + +<p>The other two men were not familiar. One was almost bald, with a wisp of +sandy hair combed in a pitiful and useless attempt to conceal the +baldness. He wore glasses with clear plastic frames. They sat on a nose +that could have served as a golf-ball model. His lips were almost +nonexistent, and his chin receded so far that Rick wondered why he +didn't conceal it with a beard. He seemed like a complete non-entity. In +contrast to the white-haired man's style of dress, the nondescript man +wore a rumpled black suit of synthetic fabric, a regular white shirt, +and a tie that a color-blind old aunt might have given him for Christmas +two decades past.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus78.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The third man was the largest of the three, with an expressionless face +and eyes that never stopped moving. He sat motionless in his chair, +apparently completely relaxed. Rick knew that the relaxation was +deceptive. Steve Ames at times looked relaxed like that, but it was the +same kind of quietness one finds in a coiled spring that has not yet +been released. The man had brown hair, light-brown eyes, and a heavy +tan. He spoke only twice while Rick watched, and then only to give +orders to the waiter. The other two men talked steadily, but in such low +tones that the boys could not hear words.</p> + +<p>The crab imperial arrived, and the riddle of the familiar face was +forgotten in a new taste treat. After one luscious bite, Rick said, "I'm +going to bring the folks here and order a duplicate of this meal. +They'll go crazy."</p> + +<p>Excellent food was a tradition in the Brant household. Mrs. Brant was a +superb cook, and both she and Hartson Brant had taught the Spindrift +young people to appreciate a well-prepared dish.</p> + +<p>"I'll order the same thing just to keep them company," Scotty offered.</p> + +<p>"Generous, always generous," Rick replied. "You'll eat the same thing +even if you have to force it down."</p> + +<p>"I'll do just that," Scotty agreed. "Remember where you've seen yonder +diner?"</p> + +<p>Rick shook his head. "Not yet. It's an odd trio. He's the dominant one +in the group. The bald one looks like a servant, and the big one like a +police dog on guard."</p> + +<p>"Bodyguard?" Scotty asked quickly.</p> + +<p>"Maybe. Or, perhaps, a chauffeur. It's hard to say."</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose the white-haired man is just a familiar type and we've +never seen him before?"</p> + +<p>"No. It isn't that. I know I've seen him before, but I can't tell you +where or when."</p> + +<p>The boys finished the meal with a scoop of lemon sherbet and rose +reluctantly. "We'll be back," Rick promised.</p> + +<p>"That we will," Scotty echoed.</p> + +<p>The old waiter bowed them to the door. As they were leaving, Rick +paused. "Do you know that white-haired man at the table near us?"</p> + +<p>"Why, sir, that's Mr. Merlin. Summer folks, you might say. He bought one +of the old mansions. This is his second summer with us."</p> + +<p>"Which one of the old mansions?" Scotty asked.</p> + +<p>"Calvert's Favor. It's in the guidebooks, sir. We have copies for sale +if you'd like one."</p> + +<p>"We have one," Rick replied. "Thank you."</p> + +<p>"Not at all, gentlemen. Hurry back."</p> + +<p>The boys walked into a lovely summer night, with a newly risen moon, +near fullness, floating just above the horizon. By unspoken agreement, +they put the top down on Steve's convertible. Rick was just snapping it +in place when he sensed someone standing next to him. He turned, to face +the big man of the trio.</p> + +<p>The man got to the point without preliminaries. "You were asking the +waiter about Mr. Merlin."</p> + +<p>"We thought he looked familiar, but we couldn't place him," Rick +replied. "We meant no discourtesy."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure you didn't," the man said smoothly. He didn't smile, even +though his voice was pleasant enough. "Mr. Merlin is a very prominent +man. He comes down here to get away from people. Naturally, he doesn't +welcome inquiries. I'm sure you understand."</p> + +<p>"We have no intention of intruding," Rick stated coolly. "As I said, he +looked familiar. We merely asked out of curiosity."</p> + +<p>"You're not local boys." It was a statement.</p> + +<p>"No. We're visitors."</p> + +<p>"The local people have learned not to ask questions about Mr. Merlin. I +suggest you follow their example." The man turned and walked back into +the restaurant.</p> + +<p>The boys stared after him, openmouthed.</p> + +<p>"If that poor soul only knew," Scotty said, "he picked the best possible +way to arouse our curiosity."</p> + +<p>"I haven't been warned so politely in a long time," Rick agreed. "Come +on, son. Let's head for Martins Creek." He slid behind the wheel while +Scotty got into the passenger side.</p> + +<p>Rick started the car and listened to it purr for a moment. "I noticed +that Steve has quite a few books about the Eastern Shore on his +bookshelves," he said casually.</p> + +<p>"So did I. Including one called <i>Tidewater Maryland</i>. Lots of pictures +of the old estates in that one."</p> + +<p>"Be interesting if there was a picture of Calvert's Favor, wouldn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Interesting and maybe informative. Well, are we going to sit here all +night?"</p> + +<p>"Nope. We're going to Steve's. Looks as if we have a small research +project."</p> + +<p>"To be followed by a second project," Scotty added. "First we read up on +Calvert's Favor, and then we find it and look it over."</p> + +<p>Rick grinned. "Nobody warns Scotty with impunity."</p> + +<p>"But nobody!" Scotty said cheerfully.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>The Saucer Sighters</h3> + + +<p>"We shoot a line straight north," Rick explained, "for a distance of +about twenty miles. Then we start asking questions. If we get +affirmative answers, we head north again for another ten miles and +repeat the process. We do this until we come to an area where saucers +have not been sighted. Okay?"</p> + +<p>Scotty nodded. "Okay. There is only one tiny flaw in this plan. If we +head straight north, we drop Steve's car into the Little Choptank. If we +cross that safely, we'll get wet in the main Choptank."</p> + +<p>Rick sighed. "If there is anything I detest, loathe, and despise, it is +people who get up in the morning feeling full of humor. We will go to +Cambridge, missing the Little Choptank, and cross the Choptank on the +bridge. Route 50 goes almost straight north. Is that more precise and +acceptable, Donald?"</p> + +<p>"It is indeed, Richard. I'm a stickler for accuracy."</p> + +<p>"You're a stickler in the mud. Let's get a notebook and start +traveling."</p> + +<p>A conference after dinner the night before had resulted in a plan of +action. The boys had decided to reduce all the rumors about flying +saucers to statistics that could be examined to see what elements the +various sightings had in common. The way to obtain the statistics was +through interviews.</p> + +<p>The problem of the white-haired man with the familiar face still +remained. Steve's books had disclosed that Calvert's Favor was famous, +that it had been so named by the original settler because he had been +granted the land by Lord Calvert, that it had changed hands only twice +in more than a century. What the books didn't give was its location. The +place was identified only as "a quiet creek, entirely within the +original land grant." There was no mention of a Calvert Creek in the +vicinity. They decided to put the question of its location aside until +Steve's return.</p> + +<p>It was a lovely morning. The convertible hummed smoothly over the +blacktop roads to Cambridge, onto Route 50, across the Choptank River +and north. Rick braked to a stop as the highway met the turnoff to +Easton. "Think we're far enough north?"</p> + +<p>Scotty had been consulting a road map. He shook his head. "Not yet. +Easton is almost due east of Knapps Narrows, and we know the saucers +have been sighted there. Better go on to Wye Mills."</p> + +<p>"Okay." The road was dual-lane cement, now, and Rick relaxed while the +car sped northward. "Odd name, Wye Mills. Lots of Wyes around here. +Three Wye Rivers on the chart, a Wye Landing, and a famous old Wye Oak."</p> + +<p>"Sounds like a song," Scotty said. "Wye, tell me Wye, are there saucers +in the sky—"</p> + +<p>"Please," Rick protested, "I'm in pain."</p> + +<p>Route 50 turned at Wye Mills, leading to the Chesapeake Bay Bridge that +crossed the bay to Annapolis. There was a gas station and lunch stand at +the intersection. Rick pulled in and drifted up to the gas pump. "Fill +it up, please. Any bottles of Coke around?"</p> + +<p>"In the machine." The attendant pointed to the red automatic vendor.</p> + +<p>The boys equipped themselves with Cokes and walked back to watch the +attendant fill the tank. "We must be somewhere near where all those +flying saucers were sighted," Rick remarked.</p> + +<p>The attendant looked up. "Farther south. Never heard of anyone this far +north seein' one. They see plenty down toward Cambridge. Ask me, they're +seein' spots in front of their eyes."</p> + +<p>The boys exchanged glances. When the car was ready, Rick turned and +started south again. "See any stores on the way where we could ask +again?"</p> + +<p>"There's a restaurant. I saw two grocery stores, too, but from the way +the attendant talked, we'll have to get closer to Cambridge." Scotty was +making a note in their notebook.</p> + +<p>Five miles back toward home, Rick stopped at another gas station and +asked the attendant to look at the oil. None was needed, so the boys +bought another pair of Cokes and engaged the man in conversation.</p> + +<p>"Ever see any flying saucers in this area?" Rick asked.</p> + +<p>"Nope. My brother did though, late one afternoon when he was on duty."</p> + +<p>Scotty took out the notebook. "We're trying to get some information +about them for a story we're writing. Do you remember when it was?"</p> + +<p>"Let's see. I was workin' in the evenin' that day, so it must have been +a Saturday. Last month, it was. Oh, I recall it now. Next day I took the +kids to my mother's. It was her birthday. That would make it the tenth."</p> + +<p>"Where was your brother when he saw it?" Rick queried.</p> + +<p>"Pumpin' gas. Right here. He said it sort of came up over the trees, +glittering like fire." The attendant pointed to a patch of trees down +the road. The direction was almost directly southwest.</p> + +<p>Scotty scribbled in the notebook. "Any other details you remember? What +time in the afternoon was it?"</p> + +<p>"Between four and five. Can't say exactly. He was still buzzin' when I +came on duty at six. Wanted to call the newspapers, but I talked him out +of it. People would think he was a fool."</p> + +<p>"Did you?" Rick asked quietly.</p> + +<p>"Nope. I know Chick. He's got a straight head on him. It may not have +been a flyin' saucer, but you can bet it wasn't anythin' common, or +anythin' he'd seen before."</p> + +<p>"Score one," Scotty said triumphantly as they drove off.</p> + +<p>"One flying saucer doesn't make a Martian invasion," Rick reminded him. +"Let's keep it up."</p> + +<p>By lunchtime they had interviewed a dozen people who claimed to have +seen flying saucers. All details of the sightings had been noted in +Scotty's book. During lunch, at a small restaurant in the old town of +Oxford, they scored three more times after interviews with fishermen.</p> + +<p>After lunch, they crossed the Choptank and headed south to the little +town of Vienna. From there the route led to the shore town of Elliott, +back to Vienna, and past the corner of Delaware to Salisbury, a +good-sized town on the Maryland Eastern Shore.</p> + +<p>There was a newspaper office in Salisbury. A chat with the editor and a +quick skim through the back files added more data to the growing list. +Rick had a hunch there was a pattern shaping up, but he could not be +sure until the information was all laid out for examination.</p> + +<p>By the time the boys met Steve at the small airport, both Rick and +Scotty had writer's cramp, and the notebook was nearly used up. They had +recorded over half a hundred sightings.</p> + +<p>Steve listened to a report of their day with an appreciative smile. +"Nothing like a mystery for keeping you two out of mischief," he told +them. "Want to eat out? Or cook a steak in the yard?"</p> + +<p>"Eat out," Scotty said promptly.</p> + +<p>"We can get steak at home," Rick added. "But not Chesapeake Bay clam +fritters or Maryland crab cakes."</p> + +<p>Steve had a favorite place of his own, a small, nondescript joint called +"Louie's Crab House" up the Choptank River, near the town of Denton. +There, on wooden trestle tables covered with brown wrapping paper, he +introduced them to a favorite Chesapeake Bay pastime known as a "crab +feast."</p> + +<p>The waiter set wooden blocks in front of them, with a round piece of +hardwood, a fork, and a sharp paring knife. A stack of paper napkins was +supplied, and individual pots of melted butter completed the setting.</p> + +<p>The boys waited impatiently, hungry, but trusting Steve's word that the +result was worth the wait. The waiter reappeared carrying a huge tray, +stacked with a towering pyramid of whole crabs, steaming and red, coated +with the spices in which they had been cooked. Placing the tray on the +table, the waiter asked, "Anything else?"</p> + +<p>Scotty said, dazed, "I don't believe there's anything else left in the +kitchen. We have all the crabs in the world right here."</p> + +<p>"Only three dozen," the waiter said. "Jumbos, of course. You want +anything, you yell."</p> + +<p>Unidentified flying objects were forgotten as Steve initiated them into +the proper method of eating fresh crab. It turned out to be quite an +art, but one that they mastered quickly. Soon all three of them were +munching succulent back-fin crab meat drenched in fresh butter. The +wooden block served as an anvil, and the round hardwood piece as a +hammer for cracking claws. The paring knife was used for trimming and +for scooping out delicious bits of meat. The fork was utilized to +persuade small tidbits to leave their shell cages. Three or four napkins +were used between each tidbit to mop buttery hands, and even chins, down +which the butter sometimes dripped. It was a feast, indeed.</p> + +<p>"If I hadn't been a heavy eater before, I'd be one after this," Scotty +observed happily.</p> + +<p>"Beats hunting flying stingarees," Rick agreed. "Pass another crab, +please."</p> + +<p>Not until the table had been cleared by the waiter, who simply removed +the utensils and tray, then wrapped up all the shells in the brown paper +and carried it off, did the conversation return to the mystery.</p> + +<p>Rick hadn't told Steve of last night's meeting with the white-haired man +or of the thinly veiled warning. He described them now in detail.</p> + +<p>"Odd," Steve said. "This familiar face needs identifying. No normal +person worries about anyone asking casual questions. That's a sure mark +of insecurity. In other words, the man is afraid. People who are afraid +often have something to hide. Do you have any reason to think he may be +tied up with the flying stingarees or saucers?"</p> + +<p>"None at all," Rick answered.</p> + +<p>"Do you know where Calvert's Favor is?" Scotty asked. "The location +wasn't given in your books. There was quite a lot about the plantation +house."</p> + +<p>"No, never heard of the place. But we'll find out when we pass through +Cambridge. I know a man there who knows everything about this area." +Steve held out his hand. "Let's see your notebook."</p> + +<p>Scotty handed it over. The young agent leafed through it rapidly. +"That's some list. If I had any doubt that people were seeing things, +it's gone now. How are you going to arrange the data?"</p> + +<p>"In tables, and on a map," Rick explained.</p> + +<p>"Fine. We can do it tonight. Want anything else?"</p> + +<p>Scotty groaned. "I couldn't even drink a glass of water."</p> + +<p>"Same here," Rick agreed.</p> + +<p>"Then let's leave the crabs behind and take a ride."</p> + +<p>On the way back to Cambridge, Steve Ames mused aloud. "You know, it's an +odd world. A few years ago there were flying saucer reports by the +dozen. Each one was given lots of newspaper space. The Air Force +conducted investigations. Then flying saucers got unpopular, the Air +Force closed its project, and the newspapers wrote a funny story every +time a report came in. Now we have a rash of sightings in one small +area. People talk about it, but no one gets excited. The authorities +brush it off as just hokum. Yet, your investigation today shows that +people are seeing <i>something</i>, even if we don't know what."</p> + +<p>Rick nodded thoughtfully. "What's even odder is that a well-known man +disappears, people search for him for a couple of days, and then do +nothing but talk about it. The police aren't even interested, so far as +we can tell."</p> + +<p>Steve laughed. "You're right. But look at it in another way. Assume +you're the local policeman. Someone rushes in and tells you that Joe +Doakes has been carried off by a flying saucer. You don't believe in +flying saucers, but you know Doakes. You investigate. His boat has been +found, but his body is missing. What do you assume? That he was really +toted off by some mysterious object? Nope. You assume he was hurt or +killed falling out of the boat. You know that sharks come into the bay +and sometimes swim up creeks. You figure that the currents sometimes act +in odd ways, depending on the winds. You figure a dozen natural kinds of +things, none connected with mysterious flying objects. You call a +coroner's jury, and not a man on it is willing to say for the record +that he believes in flying saucers. What happens?"</p> + +<p>"Case closed," Scotty said slowly, "because the body isn't around. No +proof of death, or even of accident. Pending proof of death—meaning the +body—the jury finds that Joe Doakes is missing under mysterious +circumstances and may have met with death or an accident by misadventure +while engaged in his lawful business of crabbing."</p> + +<p>"That's about it," Steve agreed. "It isn't really odd when you look at +it that way. But you can bet the case isn't closed. It's just inactive, +until something turns up. Remember there's no detective squad in a small +town."</p> + +<p>There was a combination gas station and store on the outskirts of +Cambridge. Steve drove in and honked the horn. A young boy looked out of +the store and called, "Howdy, Steve. Want gas?"</p> + +<p>"Not tonight, Jimmy. Ask your grandfather where Calvert's Favor is +located, will you?"</p> + +<p>The boy came out of the store and walked toward the car. He was a +freckle-faced towhead, with a grin wider than the Choptank River. "Heck, +Steve, I don't have to ask gran'pop that. Everybody knows where +Calvert's Favor is located."</p> + +<p>"Not everybody," Steve returned. "I don't. How about letting us in on +the secret, Jimmy?"</p> + +<p>"It's no secret. Everybody around here knows it's located across the +river from you. It's at the head of Swamp Creek."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>Sighting Data</h3> + + +<p>Steve's living room was an excellent place to work. In fact, it was a +shade too comfortable. Rick and Scotty spent a half hour arguing over +who would do what in putting their data down on paper, and both knew +perfectly well that they were just stalling.</p> + +<p>Finally Rick said, "Let's admit it. We're both stuffed with crab, a +little sleepy, and too comfortable in these armchairs."</p> + +<p>Scotty waved a hand languidly. "All right. I concede the point."</p> + +<p>Steve Ames chuckled. "Suppose you move to less comfortable chairs. Those +dining-room chairs should keep you upright. Get to work and I will too."</p> + +<p>The boys hauled themselves to their feet reluctantly. Rick walked to the +door and looked out through the screen. He could see the creek +glistening, and, out beyond the dock where the houseboat and runabout +were tied up, he saw ripples spreading where a fish had jumped. The air +was still, and he could hear cicadas in the trees and shrubs.</p> + +<p>"This is the land of pleasant living," he observed. "I'm surprised +anyone on the Eastern Shore ever gets a lick of work done."</p> + +<p>"You certainly don't," Scotty retorted. "Come on over here and stop +admiring the scenery."</p> + +<p>Steve had produced large sheets of white paper, a ruler, and pencils. +Rick sat down. "I'll act as recorder."</p> + +<p>"Volunteering for the hardest job?" Scotty inquired. "The air must be +affecting you."</p> + +<p>"Nope." Rick shook his head. "I have just enough energy left to be +realistic. I can't read your writing. Suppose I put down the headings. +Location, date of sighting, time of sighting, direction of sighting, +number of persons who saw object. What else?"</p> + +<p>"Description," Scotty suggested. "Maybe that ought to be in two parts. +One for shape and one for color."</p> + +<p>Rick nodded. "Good idea. I'll rule lines as we go." He drew lines for +the columns, printed his headings, and put in the first several +horizontal lines. "Ready," he announced.</p> + +<p>"We'll start with the first one. Location: five miles south of Wye Mills +on Route 50."</p> + +<p>Rick printed: "5M S Wye Mls Rte 50."</p> + +<p>"Date of sighting, July 10. Time of sighting, between five and six in +the evening."</p> + +<p>Rick printed industriously. Scotty read from his notes until over twenty +lines of information had been printed on the chart. Then Steve +interrupted, bringing a tray of tall glasses of iced ginger ale.</p> + +<p>The young agent put the tray down and scanned the columns while the boys +helped themselves. In a moment Steve nodded. "There's a pattern taking +shape, at least in the descriptions. But I can't make much out of the +dates and locations, yet."</p> + +<p>"We'll keep plugging," Rick said. "Maybe we'll need to rearrange the +columns before they make sense."</p> + +<p>"You have a point," Steve agreed. "Use the chart for the source, then we +can fill out sheets on the individual items, or I have some +four-by-five-inch file cards that would be ideal."</p> + +<p>"But we'll be at it all night," Scotty objected.</p> + +<p>"I don't think so. Once the basic data are on paper, it will go fast. +Keep at it. Yell if you want refills on the ginger ale. I need to finish +my own homework."</p> + +<p>The boys returned to logging the data while Steve settled down with a +bulky report. In another hour the notebook had been exhausted, and the +big sheet of paper was nearly full of ruled lines and columns, recording +data.</p> + +<p>"We're done," Rick announced.</p> + +<p>Steve put his report aside and joined them at the table. The boys waited +expectantly while the agent scanned the sheet.</p> + +<p>"You've done a good job of collecting information," Steve said. "Now it +needs breaking down some more. The mixture in the 'color' column bothers +me. I have a hunch those colors may be related to the position of the +sun. Look."</p> + +<p>Rick watched as Steve's forefinger touched a line that showed the color +as "dark." The finger moved across the line to the time of day, eleven +<span class="smcap">A.M</span>. Steve pointed to another line where the color was listed as +"orange." The time of day was seven fifteen <span class="smcap">P.M.</span>, with an additional +note of "twilight."</p> + +<p>"Got it," Scotty agreed. "You think the objects may actually be dark, +but appear in various colors depending on the position of the sun and +the position of the viewer."</p> + +<p>"It makes sense," Rick agreed. "All of the colors listed—red, orange, +silvery, bright—could be reflections of the sun on a smooth object."</p> + +<p>Steve walked to a bookshelf and pulled down a copy of <i>The World +Almanac</i>. "Sunrise and sunset times are listed in here. You can figure +out quickly enough where the sun was in relation to the observer. It +will take another sheet of paper and some more columns."</p> + +<p>"You gave us an extra sheet," Rick replied. "How should I head the +columns?"</p> + +<p>Steve thought for a moment. "Three columns for the position of the sun. +Rising, high, setting. Four columns for the position of the observer in +relation to the flying object—north, south, east, or west. One column +for color, and one for other comments such as 'shiny.' And, of course, +you want a column for the time."</p> + +<p>Rick recorded the data as Scotty read it off, checking <i>The World +Almanac</i> for the sun's approximate positions. Steve was obviously +interested. He started to read his report again, then abandoned it and +came back to the table where the boys were working.</p> + +<p>When the data had been transferred, the three studied it. Rick ran his +eye down the columns quickly, getting an impression, then he went over +the data slowly. "You're right, Steve," he said finally. "It all +tallies, even at a quick look. In every case where the object looked +colored, the observer saw the sun striking it. Where it looked dark, the +object was between the observer and the sun. Or, at least, the observer +wasn't in a position to see the sun reflect off the object."</p> + +<p>Scotty added, "In every case where the object looked red or orange, the +sun was setting or had already set. In every case marked 'bright,' +'silvery,' or 'shiny,' the sun was high and the observer could see the +sun reflecting from the object."</p> + +<p>"It seems pretty clear," Steve agreed. "Now, we have only one really +close-range sighting, and that was Rick's. How sure are you that the +object was black?"</p> + +<p>Rick shrugged. "I know enough not to trust my eyes completely in wind +and rain. But there certainly wasn't any light to reflect off the +object, and I'm pretty sure it was either black or very dark brown."</p> + +<p>"That would fit all the sightings," Steve pointed out. "I'm assuming +that the objects have a smooth surface that reflects light, even though +the material may be dark colored. Didn't you suggest a kite made of dark +plastic? That would fit the bill, except that the objects don't act like +kites."</p> + +<p>"What do they act like?" Scotty demanded.</p> + +<p>Neither Steve nor Rick had an answer.</p> + +<p>"Let's try for another piece of information," Steve suggested. "Put the +dates down on cards. If you have sightings by different people on the +same dates, and at about the same times, put them on the same card. If +there's a big time discrepancy—say one sighting in the morning and +another in the afternoon—put them on different cards."</p> + +<p>Rick looked up. "What are you trying to find?"</p> + +<p>"Periodicity," Steve said promptly. "Is there any regularity in the +sightings? Do they occur every three, four, or five days, or once a week +on Mondays? Which reminds me. You might put down the day of the week, +too. There's a calendar on the wall behind you."</p> + +<p>"You read and I'll copy," Rick told Scotty. "Go ahead." He waited with +pencil poised over a card. In a moment he looked at his pal. "What are +you waiting for?"</p> + +<p>Scotty was poring over the notebook again. His eyebrows knit. "You know, +there's one chunk of data on just a few sightings that we didn't put +down because we didn't have a column for it."</p> + +<p>"What is it?" Steve asked.</p> + +<p>"I know!" Rick exclaimed. "There were a few times when people said they +saw yellow glows in the sky after they saw the objects. Isn't that it?"</p> + +<p>Scotty nodded. "I've been counting. There were five instances. Two +people said the glow wasn't really connected, because it came from +Wallops Island."</p> + +<p>"Why on earth didn't you include it in the chart?" Steve demanded.</p> + +<p>"It doesn't fit," Scotty replied. "In every single case, the glow was to +the southeast."</p> + +<p>"Maybe it does fit," Steve said emphatically. "Boys, never leave out a +bit of data because it doesn't seem to fit. This particular chunk could +very well be the clue."</p> + +<p>"Why?" Rick asked quickly.</p> + +<p>Steve shook his head. "I'm not sure, so I don't want to say. But include +every sighting of the yellow glow on the date cards. I'm going to borrow +that set for a closer look."</p> + +<p>Scotty began reading, while Rick recorded. When the cards were complete, +they ran through them. There was no periodicity. The dates seemed +completely random. Sometimes two sightings had been made at different +times on the same date. There would be two days, three, four, five, or +even six between sightings.</p> + +<p>"Not a trace of pattern," Rick said.</p> + +<p>"Who says stingarees have to fly on schedule?" Steve asked with a grin. +"They're not supposed to be like planes. What's the next step?"</p> + +<p>Scotty produced the map they had used. "One more job to do, and that's +to plot the locations of the observers and draw lines in the directions +of the sightings. That will show us if there's any regularity in the +place where the flying objects appear."</p> + +<p>"Very good," Steve approved.</p> + +<p>Scotty took pencil and ruler and laid the map out flat. "You read +location and direction, Rick, and I'll plot the data."</p> + +<p>"Okay." Rick began with the first. "Five miles south of Wye Mills on +Route 50. Direction, southwest."</p> + +<p>Scotty measured the distance from Wye Mills, using the map scale in +inches, then estimated the compass direction and drew a line. "Next."</p> + +<p>Rick read on. By the time he had reached the tenth sighting, all three +of them were waiting anxiously for each new bit of data to be plotted.</p> + +<p>Finally the job was complete. Steve had hurried off a moment before and +returned with a pair of compasses in his hand. As the boys watched, he +put the sharp point of one compass leg into a spot on the map, adjusted +the radius, and drew a perfect circle. He adjusted the radius again, and +drew a second circle, slightly larger, then a third.</p> + +<p>"Bull's-eye!" Rick said excitedly.</p> + +<p>The direction lines bisected the outer concentric circles like the radii +of an orb spider's web. In the center of the web was the smallest +circle. Within the circle was the focal point of all flying object +observations.</p> + +<p>Rick said the name aloud.</p> + +<p>"Swamp Creek!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>Calvert's Favor</h3> + + +<p>There was a faint hint of coming daylight in the eastern sky when Rick, +Steve, and Scotty walked down the pier to the tied-up boats. The boys +had spent the night—or most of it—aboard the houseboat, until the +alarm pulled them from their sleeping bags at four o'clock. Steve had +breakfast cooking when they arrived at the farmhouse, and after coffee, +bacon, and eggs, they started on their mission.</p> + +<p>"Daybreak is the lowest peak of daily activity," Steve said as they +climbed into the runabout. He took the pilot's seat, while Rick and +Scotty prepared to cast off.</p> + +<p>"You might say that the first glimmer of daylight is man's worst hour," +Steve continued. "It's the time when battles start, when planes take off +for dawn bombing runs. I've read that it's the time when most deaths +occur in hospitals, although I don't know for certain that it's true. +What's more important to us, it's the time of day when guards are most +sleepy and least alert."</p> + +<p>The young agent had been working as he talked, checking the outboard +motor, checking the connections to the gasoline tank, and pumping +pressure into it. Now he pressed the starter and the well-kept motor +caught at once. Rick and Scotty cast off bow and stern lines and settled +themselves in the seat next to Steve.</p> + +<p>"Unless this mysterious Mr. Merlin suffers from sleepless nights, he's +deep in slumber. The sound of a small boat won't disturb him, because +he's used to the noise of motors from crabbers. We'll hope there is no +guard on the place. If there is, we'll be fishing. Better have the rods +ready. One of you can sit in back and troll from there."</p> + +<p>The outboard runabout moved away from the pier and into the creek. Steve +knew his way perfectly, and he opened the throttle to half speed, +steering through the curve at the mouth of the creek, rounding the buoy, +and heading directly toward Swamp Creek.</p> + +<p>It had taken the houseboat over twenty minutes to make the run. Steve +covered the distance in ten. As he throttled down and swung the runabout +into Swamp Creek, Rick's eye picked up a glimmer of light, then the +shape of something white cruising toward them.</p> + +<p>For a moment he stared into the lessening gloom, then said, "It's Orvil +Harris. Anyway, it looks like his boat."</p> + +<p>Steve said nothing for a moment, then he headed directly toward the +crabber. As the two boats closed, Harris paused in his crabbing and +watched the three in the runabout approach.</p> + +<p>Steve matched the crab boat's speed and nudged the runabout alongside. +"Howdy," he called.</p> + +<p>Orvil Harris reached out and caught the runabout's gunwale, then took +the line Rick passed to him. He made it fast around a cleat. "Up early," +he greeted them. "Come to watch me crab?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly," Rick returned. "Mr. Harris, this is Mr. Ames."</p> + +<p>The crabber reached out a muscular hand and Steve stretched to meet it. +"Mighty pretty place you have on Martins Creek," Harris said. "Admired +it many's the time."</p> + +<p>"Thanks," Steve returned. "Be glad to have you drop in any time."</p> + +<p>"I may do that. Thanks."</p> + +<p>"The boys tell me your cousin was the one taken by a flying saucer."</p> + +<p>Harris grinned. "He was taken. I'm not sayin' how until I know."</p> + +<p>"What do you know about Calvert's Favor?"</p> + +<p>Harris rubbed his chin, and made a slight correction in the crab boat's +course. "Present owner is a man named Merlin. No one knows anythin' +about him, and no one asks. Has a big thug with him all the time, and +takes exception to people gettin' nosy. Most folks got snubbed and drew +back, so to speak. Jim Hardin—he's a fisherman hereabouts—took +exception and got beaten up. Hardin's not easy to lick. After that, +folks stopped speakin' to Merlin and company."</p> + +<p>"How big's the company?" Steve asked.</p> + +<p>"Merlin, bodyguard, a little squirt with no chin, and three others. +Cooks and bottle washers, likely. Would it be polite to ask why you're +interested?"</p> + +<p>Steve had been studying Harris since the two boats joined up, Rick knew, +so he wasn't surprised when Steve gave a direct reply.</p> + +<p>"You'll keep this to yourself, please. The boys have been doing a little +research, and it's clear these unidentified flying objects people have +been seeing come from Swamp Creek. That points to the old mansion, +especially since Mr. Merlin is so secretive about himself. We decided to +get up before the people at the mansion were likely to be about, and +look the place over. If it looks promising, we'll try keeping an eye on +it."</p> + +<p>Harris nodded. "I'll keep it to myself, you can be sure. If the mystery +of those flyin' stingarees gets solved, we may find out what happened to +Cousin Link. I'll help if I can."</p> + +<p>"You know these waters pretty well," Steve returned. "Is there any way +of getting to Calvert's Favor, or within watching distance, without +going up this creek?"</p> + +<p>The crabber reached over and turned a switch, cutting his engine. "There +is, for that boat you're in. About thirty yards downstream from the +entrance to this creek, there is a break in the line of swamp grass +along the shore. It's a little lead, a channel maybe six feet wide and +from two to three feet deep. It runs into the swamp. Right at the place +where the water gets too narrow for the boat, a man who didn't care if +he got muddy or wet could go through the brush to an old duck blind +right across from the mansion. A pair of good glasses would give him a +right good view of the whole thing."</p> + +<p>"We couldn't see the mansion from the boat?" Rick asked.</p> + +<p>"The brush is too thick. Tell you what, if you got ground tackle aboard, +drop a hook and come over with me. I'll run you up the creek and you can +take a good look. If anyone's out watchin', they'll only see a crab boat +lookin' for a place to set lines."</p> + +<p>"Scotty," Steve directed, "there's a grapnel on a line up on the bow, +under that small hatch. Toss it in, please."</p> + +<p>Scotty stood up on the seat, stepped to the bow, and found the small, +four-pronged anchor. He dropped it into the water, let out line, and +tied the line fast to the bow cleat. "Okay, Steve."</p> + +<p>The three got aboard the crab boat as Harris started his engine. "Make +yourselves comfortable," the crabber invited. "There's a pair of glasses +on the engine box."</p> + +<p>With the binoculars Rick and Steve had brought, that made three pairs +each. The crabber swung the boat around expertly and headed upstream. +The sky was light now, and far overhead a wisp of cirrus was glowing +pink, a warning of coming sunrise.</p> + +<p>Rick sat on the gunwale and looked ahead. The creek narrowed for a few +hundred yards, then widened again. The left bank, going upstream, was +lined with scrub and swamp grass. The right bank began to change, the +swampy area giving way to good ground that rose slightly from the +water's edge. Soon the right bank was nearly three feet above the water, +and the scrub had given way to an occasional tree, and some grassland +that hadn't been mowed this year.</p> + +<p>Then Calvert's Favor came into view and Rick caught his breath. It was a +stunning plantation house. The tall columns made Rick think of pictures +of the Old South, but as the boat turned slightly and more of the house +came into view, he saw that it had a strictly Maryland character. +Attached to the largest portion of the house, the one with the columns, +was a slightly smaller section, with a still smaller section completing +the picture. It was a "telescope house"—the kind that the Eastern Shore +natives referred to as "big house, little house, and one in the middle."</p> + +<p>A broad sweep of lawn, broken only by flagstone walks and trees, +extended from the creek's edge to the house. The trees were ancient +dogwoods, with a single huge willow for extra shade. There was a small +pier extending into the creek, and from the rotted pilings next to it, +Rick saw that the original pier had been much larger.</p> + +<p>A white barn stood at a short distance from the house. A barn of that +size, Rick thought, meant a pretty substantial farm. He searched for +signs of life and saw none. There was a boat, he noticed, an outboard +skiff perhaps fifteen feet long, pulled up on the bank under an oak tree +at the edge where the lawn met uncut field. A lawn table and chairs +under the big willow looked inviting, and he speculated that Merlin and +friends must spend considerable time there. Some of the chairs were of +the padded variety, covered with plastic wet from the morning dew.</p> + +<p>Scotty pointed to the roof of the mansion. "Must be a ham radio operator +there. Look at that hay rake."</p> + +<p>Both Rick and Steve had the same thoughts as they stared at the tall +antenna, with its cluster of small rods joining a single main bar at +right angles on top of the pole. The antenna might be needed for +fringe-area television—or, on the other hand, it might be a +communications antenna, as Scotty had said.</p> + +<p>"Looks interesting," Steve said.</p> + +<p>The creek flowed only a little distance past the mansion before it +became so narrow that Orvil Harris had to turn for the trip downstream. +As the crab boat came abreast of the mansion again, Rick looked to the +other side of the creek and saw the duck blind. It wasn't exactly +opposite the house, being designed so that gunners in the blind would +shoot diagonally across the creek and downstream, rather than near the +house itself.</p> + +<p>The blind was on stilts, made of board, with a big "picture window" +without glass through which duck hunters could fire freely. It was +designed for entry by boat, and there was a line of poles sticking up +from the water that marked the boat's docking place. In season, the +entire blind including the poles would be covered with a screen of fresh +foliage, so that hunters, blind, and boat would seem like a natural +object to any duck that flew by.</p> + +<p>Rick saw that the entrance, at the point where the boat would nose in, +was downstream from the mansion, at the back corner of the blind. Anyone +approaching from the swamp behind the blind could enter unseen from +Calvert's Favor.</p> + +<p>Not until they were back at the cove did any of them speak.</p> + +<p>"That antenna was odd," Steve said. "Did you ever see anything like it, +Rick?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly," Rick admitted. "It could be for TV, although it's an +unusual design, or it could be some kind of ham rig, as Scotty said."</p> + +<p>"Or it could be something else," Steve concluded.</p> + +<p>"No sign of a flyin'-saucer launcher," Orvil Harris said. He was stoking +his battered brier.</p> + +<p>Rick grinned. "I wouldn't know one if I saw it."</p> + +<p>"Well, that wraps it up," Steve said. "Let's get aboard the runabout and +head home. I've got to make a plane." He shook hands with Orvil Harris. +"Glad to have met you after waving at you for so long."</p> + +<p>"Likewise. Now, you let me in on this if you can. I'm Link's only kin +hereabouts, so I feel responsible, so to speak. Call me up. I'm in the +phone book. I'll keep crabbin' in this creek until further notice, so +you can find me here until midmornin' any day."</p> + +<p>"We'll let you know if anything comes up," Rick agreed.</p> + +<p>Scotty borrowed a boat hook and pulled the runabout closer, then he +stepped to the forward deck while Steve and Rick got into the seat. +Scotty pulled up the grapnel while Steve started the motor. In a moment +they were waving to Harris as the runabout headed for home.</p> + +<p>It was full daylight now, and the rim of the sun was just above the +trees on the horizon.</p> + +<p>"Two items from the morning's work," Scotty summed up. "We know how the +mansion can be watched, and we have an odd kind of antenna. Anything +else?"</p> + +<p>"We have an ally," Rick reminded. "Orvil Harris."</p> + +<p>"We bought him on pure faith," Steve pointed out. "It isn't often I +stake the game on a man's face, but if Orvil Harris isn't a sound +individual, I'll lose my faith in human nature."</p> + +<p>Back at the farmhouse, Steve made fresh coffee and toast. While the boys +relaxed sleepily, he went to a closet and brought out a case and a +leather gadget bag.</p> + +<p>The boys sat up and watched while he opened the case. Rick gasped. It +was a telescope, a marvelously compact reflector type, precision made +and very expensive. Rick had often studied the ads of this particular +model, and he looked at it with some envy. He could hardly keep from +picking it up.</p> + +<p>Steve opened the gadget bag and brought out a Polaroid camera and set of +rings. Then he returned to the closet and brought back a sturdy tripod +with a geared head.</p> + +<p>"Here's the equipment," he said. He took the telescope from its padded +case, and screwed its base to the tripod, then he adjusted the tripod +until it was standing securely.</p> + +<p>"Watch this," he commanded. "You'll have to do it, because you can't +carry the whole thing assembled."</p> + +<p>Using the rings, which were adapters, he fitted the camera to the +eyepiece of the telescope. "That's all there is to it. You focus the +'scope eyepiece by turning this knurled knob. Then you set the camera to +infinity, adjust the iris for the proper light, and put the camera in +place. Any questions?"</p> + +<p>"What aperture?" Rick asked. "Normal exposure?"</p> + +<p>"Make it one f-stop less than you'd use if you were taking the picture +through a regular camera with a long lens. Anything else?"</p> + +<p>Scotty grinned. "It's pointless to ask what you want us to do with this. +We're to get pictures of that antenna—from the duck blind."</p> + +<p>"Plus anything else that looks interesting, including the occupants," +Rick added.</p> + +<p>Steve spread his hands in an expressive gesture. "What more could an +instructor want than students who know the answers before the questions +are asked? I won't even tell you to be careful, because I know you +will."</p> + +<p>"We will," Rick assured him.</p> + +<p>"All right. Listen, boys, we have no idea what we're up against, but we +do have some facts." Steve ticked them off on his fingers. "One, flying +objects originate at the mansion. There's no other place on the creek +that seems likely. Two, the house is inhabited by a man who doesn't like +questions. Three, said man has a bodyguard who gets rough. Four, one man +already is missing, perhaps because he got curious. Enough said?"</p> + +<p>The boys nodded soberly.</p> + +<p>"Then go to it, whenever you feel like it—after you've dropped me at +the airport, that is. Be here by four this afternoon. If I don't call, +meet the five-o'clock flight. If I do, it will mean I've gotten tied +up."</p> + +<p>Steve hesitated. "Just one more thing. Be <i>really</i> careful. All I have +is a hunch, but that hunch tells me we're up against something +dangerous. If Link Harris is dead, as he probably is, there's a fair +chance he was murdered."</p> + +<p>The agent's keen eyes met theirs in turn. "Don't get into a spot you +can't get out of," he concluded.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>The Duck Blind</h3> + + +<p>Orvil Harris had described the opening to the hidden waterway, but when +the boys examined the line of reeds and marsh grass there was no sign of +it. "He said thirty yards downstream," Scotty remembered.</p> + +<p>Rick was at the wheel of the runabout. "Climb out on the bow," he +suggested. "Take the boat hook with you. I'll just keep nosing in until +we find it."</p> + +<p>"Okay." Scotty took the short, aluminum boat hook from its fastenings in +the small cockpit, stood up on the seat, and stepped over the windshield +to the bow. For a moment he surveyed the shoreline from his higher +vantage point. "There's a place that looks promising." He held the boat +hook out like a spear, pointing.</p> + +<p>Rick put the runabout in gear, and moved forward at idling speed. +Looking over the side, he could see the bottom clearly. They were in +only two feet of water, and the outboard was stirring up mud at the +stern.</p> + +<p>"No good," Scotty called. "That one doesn't go anywhere. Try upstream +another six feet."</p> + +<p>Rick turned the boat, watching for the opening Scotty had spotted. He +saw it a moment later. "Looks too small," he called back.</p> + +<p>"I think it opens up. Go ahead slow."</p> + +<p>The runabout nosed up to the almost solid line of tall swamp grass, and +Scotty leaned forward. "I think this is it. Take it easy."</p> + +<p>The heavy grass rubbed on both sides of the boat, but nothing impeded +its progress. The runabout pushed through the brown-green swale until it +was almost enclosed by the grass. Then they were through, into a narrow +channel with high grass on both sides. It was hard for Rick to see ahead +because of the turns, and Scotty served as his eyes, motioning from one +side to the other as the channel shifted.</p> + +<p>Rick wondered if the sound of the outboard motor could be heard at the +mansion, and decided it probably could not. The heavy marsh grass was a +good sound baffle and the motor was relatively quiet. He leaned out, +trying to see ahead. There were many birds in the swamp, and next to the +boat a surprised snapping turtle looked up briefly, then scurried into +the mud for cover.</p> + +<p>The channel was narrowing now. Scotty looked back and drew his hand +across his throat in the old signal to "cut." Rick instantly killed the +motor.</p> + +<p>"I'll pole us," Scotty said softly. He began using the boat hook as a +pole, digging it into the bank and pulling the runabout ahead. Finally +he stopped, and wiped sweat from his face. "This is about as far as we +can go."</p> + +<p>Rick took a swipe at a black fly that bit him on the arm. "Okay. Let's +collect the gear and get started."</p> + +<p>Scotty tied the boat to a projecting root while Rick took the equipment +from its place under the seat and put it within reach on the forward +deck, then jumped ashore. His feet hit apparently solid ground, but kept +right on going down into a foot of ooze.</p> + +<p>He lifted one foot that was a black blob of mud, tried to locate more +solid footing on which to place it, and gave it up as a bad job. He +leaned over and took the telescope case and tripod.</p> + +<p>Scotty picked up the Polaroid camera and their binoculars and came +ashore, sinking into the swamp as Rick had done. He grinned wryly. +"We're up to our knees in this mystery already."</p> + +<p>Rick lifted a foot with five pounds of mud clinging to it. "If we get in +it up to our hips, we'll have a fine time getting out. How far do you +think it is to the duck blind?"</p> + +<p>"Maybe twenty-five yards. Not much more than that, maybe less. Come on."</p> + +<p>Slowly, because of the need to haul each foot out of the mud, the boys +started through the swale. The marsh grass was over their heads, forming +a thick screen. The grass, however, was no handicap to the biting flies. +Within a few seconds each boy was carrying equipment in one hand, using +the other to fight off the swarms. An occasional mosquito added to their +discomfort.</p> + +<p>The muddy ooze thinned, then gave way to higher ground. The marsh grass +was less thick and there was an occasional clump of willow. Rick studied +the terrain ahead, and in a moment caught sight of dark-green foliage +among the brown tips of swamp grass. In a few more feet he made out the +tops of trees, and then the glint of sunlight on the aluminum of the +antenna they had come to photograph.</p> + +<p>Scotty had seen it, too. He stopped and the boys consulted.</p> + +<p>"We're about twenty yards too far upstream," Scotty guessed.</p> + +<p>Rick estimated as best he could. "I think you're right. Let's stay on +high ground and head downstream a little. We must be almost there."</p> + +<p>Scotty turned and Rick followed, waving uselessly at the cloud of +insects. He was grateful for the advice Steve had given them to wear +long trousers and long-sleeved shirts. If they had been wearing shorts, +the insects would have had free access to several square feet of bare +hide.</p> + +<p>Both boys counted steps automatically, and after twenty paces +downstream, Scotty turned toward the mansion once more. They pushed +through the tall grass into thick mud, then into water with a deep muddy +bottom. A few more steps and the grass thinned. Scotty stopped and +motioned Rick back. They moved sideways, then forward again, and emerged +with the duck blind between them and Calvert's Favor.</p> + +<p>Rick thought to himself that it had been pretty good navigation, +considering that most of the journey had been blind, in grass over their +heads. Apparently Scotty thought so, too. He turned and gave Rick a big +grin, then headed for the rear of the duck blind.</p> + +<p>The water deepened, washing off some of the mud. Rick reached down and +splashed a handful on his face. It was warm. He saw a wet black head +emerge from under the duck blind and speed for shore. It was a startled +water rat. Alerted by the small splash of their coming, the rodent +decided to take better cover. Then they were at the corner of the blind +where the entrance was located.</p> + +<p>The floor of the blind was level with their chests. Rick looked in. +There wasn't much space, since the blind had been built to provide only +a place for hunters to sit, wait, and then shoot from kneeling or +sitting positions.</p> + +<p>Both boys put their equipment on the dry wooden floor. Then Rick swung +himself up and pushed the equipment back to make room for Scotty. For a +moment they sat on the floor, resting. Coming through the swamp had been +exhausting work.</p> + +<p>After a few moments' rest, Rick moved to the side of the duck blind and +found a small opening, a square window about six inches on a side, that +had apparently been made to give the hunters a view in that direction. +The opening was near the forward, upstream corner, and it looked out on +Calvert's Favor.</p> + +<p>Merlin the mysterious and his two close companions were sitting under +the willow tree enjoying something liquid from tall glasses. As Rick +watched, a fourth man, evidently a servant, brought a tray on which a +silver pitcher rested. The boy could see the trickles of water cascading +down the outside, and knew they were caused by moisture condensing on +the cold metal of the pitcher. He moistened his lips. A fine pair of +dunderheads, he and Scotty were. They had come without even a canteen of +water.</p> + +<p>"Easy shot," he whispered to Scotty. "Let's set up and take the +pictures, then get out of here. I'm getting thirsty just watching them."</p> + +<p>Scotty adjusted the tripod, while Rick took the telescope out of its +case with reverent hands. It was a beautiful and delicate piece of +equipment, Steve's personal property, and he appreciated the trust the +agent had placed in them by allowing its use. He fitted the instrument +to the mounting screw on the tripod, then aimed it through the six-inch +window. When he squinted through the eyepiece, he saw only willow +branches, but, by keeping his eye in place and cranking the geared +tripod head, he quickly aligned the telescope with the trio under the +willow.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="illus2" id="illus2"></a> +<img src="images/illus2.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3><i>Scotty fitted the camera to the telescope</i></h3> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The telescope had a fixed focus, and was designed for looking at stars. +Consequently, the field of vision was extremely narrow at the short +distance across the water, and Rick could only manage to get Merlin and +his small, insignificant-looking companion into the frame. What's more, +they were upside down, as is common in reflecting telescopes. The boy +knew there was an erecting prism in the case, a device that would put +the image upright, but it couldn't be used with the camera. Anyway, it +wouldn't matter, since the print could be turned over.</p> + +<p>He studied the faces in the upside-down position. The telescope gave him +an even better close-up than at the restaurant. Again he groped for the +identity of the white-haired man, but it eluded him.</p> + +<p>Scotty tapped him on the shoulder and motioned that the camera was +ready. Rick moved aside and his pal quickly fitted the camera to the +telescope and tightened the mounting rings. Rick nodded to indicate that +the telescope was on target, and Scotty tripped the camera.</p> + +<p>The advantage of the Polaroid camera is that the picture can be seen +within seconds. Scotty quickly went through the simple routine, and +within a quarter of a minute the boys were looking at the photo. It was +an excellent close-up, but a trifle dark. Scotty opened the iris on the +camera another stop and Rick rechecked the alignment. Scotty snapped the +picture and processed it. This time it was perfect, only slightly hazy +because of the rising heat waves across the hundred yards of distance.</p> + +<p>Rick readjusted the telescope for a full view of the third man. His +picture was added to the others. Scotty wiped both with fixative and put +them on the floor to dry.</p> + +<p>The antenna was next. Rick focused on it without difficulty, but the +field of view was so narrow that he couldn't see all of it. They would +have to photograph it in two sections, then fit the prints together.</p> + +<p>Five minutes after their arrival at the duck blind, they were back in +the swamp, the pictures protected in a plastic bread wrapper Rick had +brought. They cut directly across the swamp and emerged, hot, sticky, +and dirty, only a few yards from the boat. They stowed the equipment +wordlessly, then poled backwards into the wider channel. It was too +narrow to turn, so Rick started the motor and backed out with great +caution.</p> + +<p>Once in the clear, they headed at top speed for Steve's, tied up at the +pier, and plunged into the water without even bothering to remove their +clothes. Their only precaution was to empty their pockets.</p> + +<p>Rick luxuriated in the coolness of clean water, then stripped to his +undershorts and threw his sodden clothes onto the pier. Only when he was +sure he had washed off the last of the clinging mud did he pull himself +up to the houseboat cockpit, Scotty following.</p> + +<p>They toweled and put on clean clothes, then carried the equipment back +to the farmhouse. Two bottles of Coke apiece from the refrigerator had +them feeling normal again. Over the last one, they studied the photos.</p> + +<p>"I don't think we've ever known Merlin," Rick said thoughtfully. "We've +seen him, but we don't know him."</p> + +<p>Scotty scratched a mosquito bite. "Think he might be some kind of public +figure?"</p> + +<p>Rick looked up sharply. "I think you hit it! If that's true, we should +be able to get him identified easily."</p> + +<p>"Steve could do it through JANIG," Scotty suggested.</p> + +<p>"It would take too long. He won't be home until tonight, and the picture +wouldn't reach JANIG until tomorrow. Then it would take a day to check +it out."</p> + +<p>"Are we in a hurry?" Scotty asked.</p> + +<p>Rick chuckled. "I am. But don't ask me why. Look, I'll bet Duke or Jerry +could identify it by going through the newspaper morgue." Their +newspaper friends were owner-editor and reporter for the Whiteside paper +back home.</p> + +<p>"They're on vacation," Scotty reminded him. Once each year, the paper +was turned over to a friend of Duke's, a former newspaperman turned +professor of journalism, who used the occasion to give some of his +students practical experience.</p> + +<p>That was true, Rick remembered. Neither Duke nor Jerry would be +available. Who else did they know who could help? Suddenly he snapped +his fingers. "I've got it! Ken Holt would help, if we could get the +picture to him."</p> + +<p>Ken Holt, the young newsman whose adventures were favorite reading for +Rick and Scotty, had once asked Spindrift for help, and Rick had given +him a set of pocket-size radio transceivers of the kind known as "The +Megabuck Network."</p> + +<p>"Sandy Allen is a photographer," Scotty pointed out. "He might know +these people."</p> + +<p>Rick took a chair next to the telephone and dialed the operator. "A +person-to-person call," he stated, "to Mr. Ken Holt, at the <i>Brentwood +Advance</i>, Brentwood, New Jersey." He put his hand over the mouthpiece. +"Let's hope he and Sandy aren't off on an assignment somewhere."</p> + +<p>Luck was on their side. Ken Holt was in, and he was delighted to be of +help. "Put the picture in the mail," the young reporter suggested. "If +you make it airmail, special delivery, we'll have it first thing in the +morning. With luck, we might even get it tonight. We'll phone you as +soon as we have an identification. Incidentally, the Megabuck units +worked like a charm, as I told you when I wrote. Thanks a lot."</p> + +<p>"Glad they were helpful," Rick replied. "We'll hurry to town and get the +picture in the mail right away."</p> + +<p>He hung up and nodded at Scotty. "We'll get the picture ready, and take +it to town when we go to pick Steve up. If we're a little early, the +letter probably will go out on the early evening plane to Washington."</p> + +<p>Scotty nodded. "What time is it?"</p> + +<p>Rick glanced at his watch. "Nearly three. We'll be ready to take off as +soon as Steve calls, or doesn't."</p> + +<p>"If he calls, that means he won't be back," Scotty reminded.</p> + +<p>"No matter. We'll go to town anyway, and have an early dinner."</p> + +<p>Rick had envelopes and letter paper on the houseboat. He wrote a brief +note to Ken, addressed the envelope, and printed <span class="smcap">Airmail Special +Delivery</span> on both sides, then enclosed the best picture of Merlin and +sealed it. Scotty spent the time on a small repair job, taping up the +neoprene gasoline hoses that carried fuel to the houseboat motors. By +the time he was finished, it was nearly four. The boys went into the +house to wait.</p> + +<p>Steve called on the dot of four. "Rick? ... Steve. I'm sorry, fellow. I +have a little more to do on this case, and I'll have to stay over. +Everything going all right?"</p> + +<p>Rick briefed him quickly on the day's events and Steve replied, "It +takes about half an hour for a letter to make the early evening plane. +Allow enough time."</p> + +<p>"We will," Rick assured him. "Anything new on the sighting data?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet. I sent the cards to the computing center, but they won't have +time to run the data through until tomorrow or the next day. Make +yourselves at home, and don't spend all your time on flying stingarees. +Get in some fishing and swimming."</p> + +<p>Rick assured him that they were enjoying the vacation and would try to +get in some fishing. He hung up and turned to Scotty.</p> + +<p>"He'll be in tomorrow on the same plane. He wants us to get in some +fishing."</p> + +<p>Scotty chuckled. "I thought he knew you better than that. Give you a +mystery to chew on and there's no room for anything else in that thick +Brantish skull."</p> + +<p>"We'll solve this one," Rick said confidently. "Then we'll fish."</p> + +<p>Scotty just grinned.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>Ken Holt Comes Through</h3> + + +<p>Somewhere in the oak trees across the creek a cardinal sang his lovely +evening song. An osprey, etched in black against the dark blue of the +sky, whirled in lazy circles watching the water below. A muskrat +appeared briefly, his sleek head making a V of ripples in the calm +water.</p> + +<p>Rick and Scotty, sprawled comfortably in beach chairs on the lawn in +front of Steve's house, sipped the last of their iced tea, and watched +the movements and listened to the sounds in companionable silence. Both +boys, admitting that, for the immediate present, they were slightly +overdosed with rich food, had agreed to settle for a sandwich and iced +tea. A brief stop at a store en route back from the post office had +provided the necessities.</p> + +<p>Rick was physically relaxed, but mentally active. It was characteristic +of him that he never let go of a puzzle until he had found a solution, +or had tried all possibilities and been forced to admit defeat. He was a +long way from defeat at the moment. The case of the flying stingaree was +just getting interesting.</p> + +<p>"What are the flying stingarees?" he asked quietly.</p> + +<p>Scotty shifted position in his chair and looked at Rick quizzically. +"You don't expect an answer. But I can tell you a few things they are +not."</p> + +<p>"Tell away," Rick urged.</p> + +<p>"They are not flying saucers, aircraft, kites, sting rays, birds, fish, +or good red herrings. Beyond that, deponent sayeth not, as the legal +boys say."</p> + +<p>"Uh-huh. And why are they not flying saucers?"</p> + +<p>"For the same reason they're not aircraft. If you recall all the talks +with people who've seen them, they don't maneuver, and they don't travel +very fast. They appear—or they're noticed, let's say—and they just get +smaller and smaller until they vanish. They move, but not much."</p> + +<p>Rick nodded. "The circle we drew around all the sightings doesn't cover +a very large territory. All the sightings have been within that circle. +People had to look toward Swamp Creek to see the objects. Yet, they did +something interesting. They grew smaller. What makes things seem to grow +smaller?"</p> + +<p>"Apparent size decreases with distance," Scotty replied promptly.</p> + +<p>"Sure. And how do you get distance, when the sightings are all within a +circle only a few miles in diameter?"</p> + +<p>"Only one way. With altitude. The things had to be going up."</p> + +<p>Rick agreed. "That's how I figure it, too. It also explains why the +circle of sightings is so small. Above a certain altitude, the objects +are no longer visible. Or they're not so visible that they attract +attention. I suppose we could work out some calculations. How large an +object can be seen readily at what distance? Then we could apply a +little trigonometry and figure their size."</p> + +<p>"We could," Scotty agreed, "but do we need to? Let's assume the object +you saw was typical. How big was it?"</p> + +<p>Rick thought it over. He had had only a quick glimpse, and the +background had been the gray of the storm. His vision had been obscured +because of the rain. "Maximum of ten feet across and maybe eight tall. +It was probably less."</p> + +<p>"Okay. So the reason sightings are confined to this area is because the +objects are fairly small. When people see them, they're relatively +close, and fairly low. Even the small planes that fly from the airfield +are much bigger than the flying stingarees, but when the planes go over +at about five thousand feet, they seem tiny. At that altitude the flying +stingarees must be at the limit of really good visibility."</p> + +<p>"I read you loud and clear. So the objects are sent from Calvert's +Favor, and they climb. They don't climb straight up, though. The wind +carries them. The reason I think so is that the one I saw must have been +driven by the wind, right down the creek toward me. It didn't climb +until it got away from the funneling effect of the creek and into the +river, then it went up pretty fast. At least it seemed to have risen +fast when I looked over the top of the boat at it."</p> + +<p>Scotty crunched an ice cube. "We're getting somewhere. There's only one +kind of unpowered, vertical rising thing I know of. Are you with me?"</p> + +<p>Rick finished his drink. "Balloon," he said crisply.</p> + +<p>"On the beam," Scotty approved. "The only thing that doesn't fit is the +shape."</p> + +<p>Rick asked, "What's a balloon? It's just a gas-tight container. We're +used to thinking of balloons as spheres, because it's the most efficient +shape for internal pressure. But a balloon can be any shape. Another +thing—balloons for high altitudes aren't fully inflated on the ground. +Maybe the flying stingarees have a different shape when they get higher +and in less dense atmosphere where the gas distends them."</p> + +<p>"An odd shape could be used as camouflage, too, if you didn't want +people to recognize the balloon. But why would a strange assortment of +characters like Merlin and company send up balloons?" Scotty wondered.</p> + +<p>Rick smiled. "I've been wondering that myself. Would they send up a +balloon that didn't carry something?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Was the one you saw carrying anything?"</p> + +<p>Rick sat upright. "Maybe it was! You know, I haven't even thought of it +since then, but I think there was a splash when it went by. Something +sort of clanged off the rail over me, even if it didn't dent the rail. +Do you suppose the thing dropped its payload right next to us?"</p> + +<p>"You'll have to decide that," Scotty said. "If you heard something +bounce off the rail, then a splash, I'd say there might be a pretty good +chance that's what happened. I couldn't see any marks on the rail when +we looked." They had checked the rail during the first day at Steve's.</p> + +<p>Rick closed his eyes and made himself remember what it had been like +when he went down the catwalk to the bow. His mind drew a picture, and +he saw himself bent forward into the wind. In his memory he felt the +slashing rain, the slipperiness of the wet anchor line. He could +visualize the water whipped into dimpled wavelets by wind and rain. He +saw the flying stingaree loom, and saw himself dropping flat. There had +been a clang as something hard hit the rail! There <i>had</i> been a splash!</p> + +<p>He went over it again, searching his memory for details he had forgotten +or which had only registered vaguely at the time. He studied the shape +and texture of the object he had seen so briefly. He saw its red eyes +open and glare at him, saw the extended claws reaching....</p> + +<p>He came out of his chair with a yell, arms extended to defend himself.</p> + +<p>Scotty stood next to him in the darkness. "Hey, take it easy, Rick! I +didn't think I'd startle you so when I shook you."</p> + +<p>Rick stared. "Did I fall asleep? I must have. I was trying to remember, +and suddenly I was dreaming about red eyes and claws—"</p> + +<p>Scotty laughed softly. "If you've got to have nightmares, at least do it +in comfort. Let's go to the boat and go to bed."</p> + +<p>Rick dreamed no more of the flying stingarees. In the morning he +couldn't have said what his dreams had been about, except that they had +been pleasant.</p> + +<p>In the bright glare of morning, the whole thing seemed dreamlike. It was +preposterous to imagine that flying objects, probably balloons shaped +like stingarees, were launched from a famous mansion that dated back to +the days of the early Maryland colony. But the sighting data couldn't be +ignored. Dreamlike or not, something strange was going on at Calvert's +Favor.</p> + +<p>The boys breakfasted in the farmhouse, reducing Steve's supply of eggs +substantially and wiping out the bacon reserve. "We'll have to shop +sometime today," Rick observed. "Steve has plenty of food here, but we +don't want to use it when there's a store so close."</p> + +<p>"Sure," Scotty agreed. "But when? It may have to wait until we go after +Steve. We can't very well leave the house, or at least both of us can't. +Ken Holt might call."</p> + +<p>Rick nodded and poured himself a cup of coffee. He had thought of that. +They had to give Ken time to get the picture and check it out. By the +latest, they should hear before noon—unless the job turned out to be +very difficult. That would leave four hours before they would have to +leave the house to pick up Steve. Four hours was time enough for the +investigation Rick had in mind.</p> + +<p>After breakfast they settled down with the data sheets and notebook to +review them once more. But only one additional fact emerged. Two people +thought, but weren't absolutely sure, that they had seen a spurt of fire +from the flying stingarees. Rick wondered if they had seen a sudden +flare of sunlight from some highly reflective part of the object.</p> + +<p>It was two minutes before nine when the phone rang. Both boys jumped, +but Rick got there first. "Hello?"</p> + +<p>"Rick? ... This is Ken. Why don't you give us something hard to do? The +envelope arrived three minutes ago, and I was just taking the picture +out when Sandy walked in. He took one look and asked what I was doing +with a snapshot of Lefty Camillion. The hair is white and the mustache +is gone, but it's Lefty."</p> + +<p>Rick gasped. "My sainted aunt! Of course! I should have known it +myself."</p> + +<p>"There's more. Sandy recognized Lefty's small friend too. This is an odd +one, Rick. The man is Dr. Elbert K. Drews. He was fired six months ago +by Space Electronics Industries. It was a big story for us, because the +plant is located in the next town. The reason he was fired came out +during the monopoly investigations. Turned out he had been selling the +firm's industrial secrets to its competitors. It was a shock, because he +had such a big reputation as an electronics wizard. He got some kind of +national prize a year ago for developing a new high-speed system for +something. Let's see—here's my note. It says, 'Dr. Drews was the +originator of a new and unusual system for the rapid telemetry of data +from space. The system is considered remarkable for its compactness and +speed of operation. The ground installation is scarcely larger than a +console-model television set.' Hope that means something to you, Rick."</p> + +<p>"Thanks a million, Ken. It seems to fit, but I'm not sure how."</p> + +<p>"Let us know if you find out. And if we can do anything else, you know +the phone number."</p> + +<p>"We'll call if anything comes up. Thanks again, Ken."</p> + +<p>Rick hung up and stared at the phone thoughtfully, trying to fit this +new information into the scheme of things. Scotty had been sitting on +the edge of his chair since the conversation started. He said, with some +exasperation, "Well? Out with it!"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Merlin is Lefty Camillion. His pal is an electronics wizard who was +fired by Space Electronics Industries for selling industrial secrets to +the firm's competitors." Rick rapidly sketched in the rest of the +conversation.</p> + +<p>Scotty sank back into his chair. "His hair was black, and now it's +white. He must have been keeping it dyed, and decided to go natural. And +he shaved off that mustache. Probably that was dyed black, too."</p> + +<p>"You're right." Rick shook his head in dismay. Lefty Camillion, whose +first name was Thomas, was a notorious crime syndicate leader who had +come into prominence about two years ago during Senate investigations of +racketeering. In three days Camillion had become a television +personality, of sorts, when it became clear that he apparently was +responsible for a number of murders and a thousand lesser crimes, +although he himself had not done the actual killings. There was +insufficient evidence to jail him, but enough to deport him. He dropped +out of sight while his lawyers were fighting the deportation +proceedings. Now he had shown up again, on the Eastern Shore.</p> + +<p>"A crime syndicate chief, a crooked scientist, flying stingarees, an old +mansion, a peculiar antenna, and a missing crabber. What does it add up +to?" Rick demanded.</p> + +<p>Scotty shrugged. He didn't answer. There was no answer—yet.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>On the Bottom</h3> + + +<p>There were three wooden cases stored in the full-length closet in the +houseboat cabin. Rick and Scotty took the two bulkiest to the cockpit +and opened them to disclose full skin-diving equipment. The boys had +made the cases themselves, to be carried like suitcases. Each held a +single air tank, regulator, mask, fins, snorkel, underwater watch, depth +gauge, weight belt, equipment belt, and knife. The third case contained +spears and spear guns, but they wouldn't need those in searching for the +object that had splashed near the houseboat.</p> + +<p>While Rick checked the equipment, made sure there was sufficient air in +the tanks, and put on the regulators, Scotty searched for a heavy stake +and something with which to drive it. He found a sledge hammer in +Steve's workshop. At the edge of the woods was a pile of saplings that +had been cut to make a fence. He chose a sapling that would serve as a +stake and took it back to the boat.</p> + +<p>One of the spare lines that the houseboat carried was quarter-inch +nylon. Scotty fastened one end of the small rope to the sapling, about +halfway up, and secured it with a timber hitch. Then he wound the rope +on the sapling as smoothly as possible.</p> + +<p>Rick finished checking the equipment and announced that he was ready.</p> + +<p>"Same here," Scotty replied. "Let's get into swim trunks."</p> + +<p>As the two changed, Rick asked, "Suppose we find something, but can't +get it up without help? How do we mark the place?"</p> + +<p>Scotty paused. Normally they would simply attach a line to a float and +secure the float to the object. But a float would attract attention. +"Take bearings?"</p> + +<p>Rick shook his head. "The boat will be swinging at anchor. It might be +hard to get good bearings. Would a piece of fish line work? We could tie +it to the object, carry it to the shore, and secure it to something +underwater. The line would sink. Later, we could just drag until we +caught the line."</p> + +<p>"It would work," Scotty agreed. "There's a new spool of heavy line on +the shelf in the closet. Fifty yards. That should do."</p> + +<p>"Especially since the most we would need is fifty feet," Rick agreed. +"I'll stick it in a belt pocket, just in case."</p> + +<p>Back on deck, Rick started the houseboat's outboard motors and listened +critically. They were operating smoothly. Scotty walked up the pier and +untied the bowline. At Rick's signal, he stepped aboard on the foredeck, +bringing the line with him. Rick cast off the stern line, pushed the +houseboat away from the pier, then put the motors in gear.</p> + +<p>The trip to Swamp Creek was a familiar one now. Rick cut corners, +knowing he had enough water under the keel, heading directly for the +creek entrance. Scotty came back to the cockpit and joined him.</p> + +<p>"Do you suppose Orvil Harris will be around?"</p> + +<p>Rick shrugged. "It's pretty late for a crabber. He's probably gone by +now."</p> + +<p>"I wonder if he'll ever see any flying stingarees come out of the +creek."</p> + +<p>Rick shook his head. "Most of the sightings are in the late morning or +late afternoon. Only a couple were around dawn."</p> + +<p>While the houseboat moved across the Little Choptank, Scotty checked the +tide tables. He reported that the tide was coming in. It was about one +hour from high tide. Rick had been studying the chart. "No problem," he +said. "Mean low water averages four feet in the cove, with seven feet in +the middle. Think your stake will be long enough?"</p> + +<p>Scotty had placed the sapling with its winding of rope on the cabin top. +He estimated its length again. "Depends on how deep the mud is. If it's +more than three feet, the top of the stake will be under water."</p> + +<p>"Three feet is a lot of mud," Rick said. "It's likely a lot less than +that."</p> + +<p>He turned into the creek mouth, throttling back. It would be hard to +anchor precisely where the houseboat had been anchored that first night, +but he was sure they could find the spot within twenty feet. Scotty went +up on the bow and got the anchor ready.</p> + +<p>"Use about thirty feet of line," Rick called. He took the houseboat to +the exact center of the cove, as closely as he could estimate, then put +the motors in reverse to kill the speed. When it fell to zero, he yelled +to Scotty. Scotty lowered the anchor and made it fast, then hurried back +to join Rick, who backed off until he felt the anchor dig in.</p> + +<p>It was silent in the cove with the motors off. "I'll start," Rick +offered, and at Scotty's nod he picked up his Scuba and slipped into the +harness. His weight belt was next, then his fins. Finally he slipped the +mask strap over his head, and put the mouthpiece in place. He took a +couple of breaths to make sure he was getting air, then walked to the +edge of the cockpit and fell backward into the water, letting his tank +take the shock of landing. He slipped the mask off, took the mouthpiece +out, and spat into the mask to prevent fogging, then he rinsed it, put +it on, and replaced the mouthpiece.</p> + +<p>Scotty had taken the sapling from the cabin top. He handed it to Rick, +who dove with it, thrusting the sharpened end into the mud far enough so +that the sapling stayed in place.</p> + +<p>Rick surfaced again and swam to the boat, which had drifted a few feet. +Catching the leg of one motor, he pulled the boat back to where the +sapling projected above the surface. He held the boat in position while +Scotty took the sledge and drove the sapling down until its top was only +a few inches above the water. Rick tested the pole. It was firm.</p> + +<p>He removed the mouthpiece, treading water. "Looks okay. I'm going to +start."</p> + +<p>"Good luck," Scotty called.</p> + +<p>Rick submerged and swam down, using the pole as a guide. The rope, +attached to the pole, was perhaps two feet above the bottom. He freed +the end of the rope, unwound a few feet, slipped the end through his +belt, and secured it with a slip knot. Then, hands extended, he began +the slow work of covering the cove bottom inch by inch, searching for +the thing that had splashed.</p> + +<p>The boy swam in an ever-widening circle, the rope unwinding from the +sapling as he moved. The unwinding of the line, which he kept taut, +ensured that he would cover new ground each time he rounded the pole, +but without missing any. He couldn't see, because his hands stirred up +mud as he traveled. Only his sense of touch told him what was on the +bottom. He wasn't afraid of grabbing a crab or an eel. All underwater +creatures with any mobility at all get out of the way as fast as +possible. He knew the compression wave caused by his movement would warn +all living creatures.</p> + +<p>His groping hands identified various pieces of wood, all natural, and +assorted other objects including an old tire. There were cans, some of +them food tins that had been opened, and some beverage cans, +recognizable because of their triangular openings. Once he found a +section of fishing pole.</p> + +<p>It was a long, tedious job. The world closed in on Rick and there was +only the murk outside his mask and the rhythmic sound of his own +breathing. Only his hands, constantly probing the mud, were in touch +with reality. He lost all sense of time. Once, to see how much ground he +had covered, he pulled himself to the pole by the line, estimating his +distance. He was about fifteen feet from his starting point. He returned +to the full extent of the line and started the round again, after +looking at his watch. He had to hold it close to see the dial through +the murk. He had been down only twenty minutes, although the time seemed +much longer.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later his hand swept over something smooth. Instantly he +turned in toward the pole, and swam back around the circle for perhaps +ten feet. Then, covering the ground again by crawling along the bottom, +he felt for the object. His fingers touched it. His first impression was +of something cylindrical, but he made no attempt to pick it up. He +needed to explore it thoroughly, first. His breathing was faster, and he +knew his pulse had accelerated at the moment of discovery. If this +continued, he would use air too fast. He willed himself to slow his +breathing, and for a few seconds he stopped altogether.</p> + +<p>In that instant, Rick heard a slap on the water, then another. He +waited, holding his breath. There was a pause, then more gentle slaps. +He counted them.</p> + +<p>One, two, three, four—the signal for danger!</p> + +<p>He and Scotty had long ago agreed that four sounds underwater would be +the danger signal. He reacted instantly. The fishing line was in a +pocket on his equipment belt. He took it out and pulled line from the +spool. Then, probing deeply with one hand, he pushed the line under the +smooth object, reached across and down with the other hand. When his +hands met, he passed the line from one to the other and pulled the line +through. Now it was around the object. He tied the line quickly, then +rolled over on his back and looked upward at the surface. He could gauge +the position of the sun, even though he could see no details. Using the +rays filtering through the murk as a guide, he oriented himself.</p> + +<p>"Which bank?" He thought quickly. Danger could only come from the +mansion, and that was on the south bank. He turned and swam north, going +slowly, paying out line from the spool. Now that he was traveling in a +straight line, he covered the bottom quickly, and in less than a minute +he was in shallow water. He stopped, afraid that his tank would show +above the surface.</p> + +<p>It was clearer in the shallows. He made out the line of a branch, or +root of some kind that thrust its way through the surface. It would +serve. Quickly he passed the spool around it and made a knot, then he +pushed the spool itself into the mud and turned.</p> + +<p>Now to find the boat again. Cruising slowly, he headed in the general +direction, rising slightly as he swam. Finally, he found the boat by its +shadow and swam under it to the stern. Again orienting himself by the +sun, he made sure that the boat would be between him and the south bank. +He surfaced and pulled off his mask.</p> + +<p>Scotty was swabbing the deck of the cockpit as casually as though +trouble was the last thing on his mind. Rick wondered briefly if he had +imagined the danger signal, or had mistaken some other sound for a +signal. Then Scotty hailed him.</p> + +<p>"Where are all the clams?"</p> + +<p>Rick's mind raced. Obviously someone was listening. Was the someone on +the boat, or ashore?</p> + +<p>"I only found one," he called back. "I don't believe there are enough in +this cove to bother about, no matter what those fishermen said."</p> + +<p>"Did you dig deep enough?" Scotty asked.</p> + +<p>"As deep as I could without a shovel. The mud is two feet thick down +there."</p> + +<p>"Well, you might as well come aboard. I guess if we're going to have +clam chowder, we'll have to buy clams from a commercial boat."</p> + +<p>Scotty wouldn't invite him aboard if there was any danger, Rick knew. He +accepted the hand Scotty held down and got aboard.</p> + +<p>He surveyed the situation quickly. There was no sign of any danger.</p> + +<p>"Pretty murky down there?" Scotty asked.</p> + +<p>"Like swimming in ink."</p> + +<p>"We'll try again out in deep water. It should be clear near the river +mouth."</p> + +<p>"Suits me," Rick said. "I never did think we'd find clams in this cove. +The mano boats dredge in deeper water than this."</p> + +<p>"Maybe the fishermen didn't want us stirring things up where they clam. +Come on in and I'll fix you some coffee. I made it while you were down +below."</p> + +<p>"Okay."</p> + +<p>Once inside the cabin, Scotty said softly, "Two men. On the shore. One +is the bodyguard. I've never seen the other one before. Both of them +have rifles."</p> + +<p>Rick considered. "They couldn't possibly know the thing—whatever it +is—dropped in the water here. Or could they?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Anyway, they're suspicious. Did you find anything?"</p> + +<p>"Just as you signaled. How did you signal, by the way?"</p> + +<p>"With the mop pail. Four taps with the bottom on the water surface. Then +I filled the pail and began swabbing down."</p> + +<p>Rick nodded. "I don't know what I found. A cylinder, maybe two inches in +diameter, maybe less. Smooth. I got the fish line around it and carried +the line to the shore. We'll have to come back later."</p> + +<p>"We certainly will." Scotty's eyes sparkled. "But for now, let's up +anchor and get out of here."</p> + +<p>"How about the stake with the rope on it?"</p> + +<p>"The tide's still coming in. It will be completely under the water at +high tide. We'll have to avoid it, and warn Harris if we don't get back +tonight."</p> + +<p>An idea was beginning to form in Rick's mind. "Okay," he said. "Let's +get going."</p> + +<p>Within minutes the houseboat was on its way out of the cove, the two +boys acting normally, as though no one was observing their departure. +Rick saw no one on shore, and not until they were sunward from the cove +entrance did he see the sparkle of sunlight on binocular lenses. Scotty +had been right, as usual.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>Night Recovery</h3> + + +<p>On the way back from the airport, Steve Ames listened intently to the +report of the day's activities, but delayed comment until supplies had +been purchased, and a dozen eggs turned into an omelet that a French +chef might have praised.</p> + +<p>Rick was eager to discuss the whole affair with Steve, but the young +agent was adroit at fending off questions without being rude, and +finally the boy gave up.</p> + +<p>Over after-dinner coffee, Steve smiled at both of them. "End of today's +lesson in patience, which is one virtue neither of you has developed +sufficiently. Okay, where are those two pictures?"</p> + +<p>Scotty whipped them from the breast pocket of his shirt and handed them +over without comment. Steve studied them for long minutes, then went to +a table and took a magnifying glass from the table drawer. He placed the +pictures directly under a lamp and studied them with the aid of the +magnifier.</p> + +<p>"It <i>is</i> Thomas Camillion," he said finally. "Your friend Sandy Allen +has a sharp eye. I wouldn't have known him, either."</p> + +<p>That surprised Rick. Steve had never met the owner of Calvert's Favor, +but because of Camillion's notorious reputation, Rick had been certain +that Steve would recognize him on sight.</p> + +<p>Steve saw the expression on Rick's face. He grinned. "You disappointed? +First of all, my knowledge of Camillion is not greater than yours. I've +never seen him in person, or had any reason to study him. Crime isn't +JANIG's business. Second, one expects to see a duck near water, or a +squirrel near a tree. Criminals are generally found near centers of +crime. They're not common in historic mansions, far from large +population centers, so one doesn't expect to find them there. My reasons +for not recognizing Camillion, without Allen's identification, are +exactly the same as yours."</p> + +<p>"It's just that we expect you to know everything," Scotty said +half-seriously.</p> + +<p>"Then I'm glad you're learning better. Joking aside, it's interesting +that Camillion should be here. It's even more interesting that his +sidekick is a crooked electronics engineer or scientist. When you add +flying stingarees to that combination, it totals up to something novel +in criminal ideas. But what?"</p> + +<p>"We thought you might have an idea," Rick prodded.</p> + +<p>"Yes and no," Steve said ambiguously. "What ideas do you have?"</p> + +<p>Rick stared at him accusingly. "Are you holding out on us? Do you know +something we don't?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet," Steve said, and grinned at their expressions. "I mean that +literally. I think I may possibly know something, but the evidence isn't +in yet. It's that computer run I mentioned. We should have the results +tomorrow."</p> + +<p>"All right," Rick said. He knew better than to push Steve for more +information. The agent went in for speculation only when it served a +purpose. With only a hint of evidence, he avoided guessing until the +evidence had been checked out. "We figured out that the flying +stingarees probably are balloons," Rick reported, recapitulating their +conclusions of the previous evening.</p> + +<p>Steve nodded approvingly. "Very good reasoning. Now connect up an +electronics crook, Camillion, and that peculiar antenna."</p> + +<p>"The balloons carry radio equipment," Scotty said promptly. "The antenna +picks up their signals."</p> + +<p>Steve nodded again. "That's reasonable. Now, why do the balloons carry +radio equipment? And why are they launched?"</p> + +<p>"We're like a dog chasing his tail," Rick said with a grin. "We're not +getting anywhere, but we're covering plenty of ground."</p> + +<p>"Maybe we are getting somewhere," Steve corrected. "You found something +today that may be the balloon payload. You also found out that people +from the mansion were interested in your activities, but didn't want to +be seen. It's obvious that the object you found must be recovered. +You've got a plan. I'm sure of it."</p> + +<p>"We do," Rick agreed.</p> + +<p>Scotty added, "First of all, we have to warn Orvil Harris. If he goes +crabbing in the middle of the night, he might foul a prop on the stake +we left there."</p> + +<p>"The people in the mansion can't be suspicious of Orvil," Rick went on. +"He goes crabbing there every day. They must be used to him by now. +Suppose we call him, to warn him about the stake, and to see if he'll +help out."</p> + +<p>"He'll be glad to help," Scotty said.</p> + +<p>"Help how?" Steve asked. "By providing cover?"</p> + +<p>Rick nodded. "Exactly. Scotty and I will suit up, so our skins won't +show at night, and have our Scuba equipment on. Harris could come by and +take the runabout in tow with us in it. We would drop off near the creek +entrance and push the runabout into the channel where it would be +hidden. Then we would swim into the cove and recover the object. With +two of us, it would be a cinch to find the fish line."</p> + +<p>"If the thing is too heavy to swim with," Scotty went on, "we'll hand it +into Orvil's boat. Of course we'll pull up the sapling and hand that to +Orvil. If the gadget is light, we'll swim back to the runabout with it, +push the runabout away from the cove into the river, and then get aboard +and come home."</p> + +<p>Rick concluded, "With Orvil's motor going, no one would hear our +bubbles."</p> + +<p>Steve had followed the plan carefully. "Fair enough," he agreed. "It's a +good plan. No one will see you enter the cove, and no one will see you +leave. There will be only Orvil Harris catching crabs as usual."</p> + +<p>Scotty spoke up. "We could make one change, Steve. You could be with us, +either in the water or in the runabout."</p> + +<p>Steve shook his head. "No thanks, Scotty. I have some business of my own +later tonight. You carry out your plan and I'll carry out mine."</p> + +<p>"Is your business connected with ours?" Rick asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I'm going to follow a different line of investigation. If it +brings results, we'll compare notes at breakfast."</p> + +<p>"We could postpone recovery and help you tonight," Scotty suggested.</p> + +<p>Steve smiled warmly. "Thanks, but no thanks. What I have to do is for a +lone hand. Rick, you phone Orvil Harris and make arrangements."</p> + +<p>Rick consulted the telephone directory and turned to Steve. "Any chance +the line may be bugged?"</p> + +<p>"I doubt it. You might ask Orvil if he's on a party line, though. If he +is, be careful. If not, go ahead and talk."</p> + +<p>Orvil Harris had a private line, so Rick described their adventure in +the cove and asked for the crabber's help. Harris responded at once, as +the boys had known he would.</p> + +<p>"I'll come by at half past three. You hook on and I'll tow you to the +mouth of the creek, then you cut loose. We'll fix up the details when I +see you."</p> + +<p>Rick thanked him and hung up. "All set," he reported. "But we'll get +little sleep tonight."</p> + +<p>"It's only about eight," Steve pointed out. "You could go to bed right +away." He managed to say it with a straight face.</p> + +<p>"We could," Scotty agreed. "But we won't. How about a little television +tonight?"</p> + +<p>Steve waved a hand. "Take your pick. Medical drama, crime drama, western +drama."</p> + +<p>"The purpose of television drama," Rick declared, "is to provide an +escape from the real world into the world of fantasy. So no crime drama +for us because that's the real world. We will watch a medical-type +show."</p> + +<p>"Western," Scotty said. "Trot-trot, bang-bang."</p> + +<p>"Medical." Rick held out a hand dramatically. "Scalpel! Sponge! Quick, +nurse, tighten the frassen-stat! The patient is going into nurbeling +aspoxium!"</p> + +<p>"Western." Scotty crouched, hand curved at his thigh. "Make your play, +Brant!"</p> + +<p>"Medical." Rick tapped an imaginary stethoscope on his palm. "I regret +that you have all the symptoms of thickus headus, Mr. Scott."</p> + +<p>Steve held up both hands. "Whoa, Mr. Scott. You too, Dr. Brant. As the +only impartial participant, I will select. We will improve your minds by +finding a panel show about the problems of agriculture in Basutoland."</p> + +<p>The boys groaned.</p> + +<p>It turned out to be an entertaining TV evening, with one good show +following another, and the late show an exciting sea adventure filmed +many years before the boys were born, but one of their favorites from +other late-night movies. The three had no intention of staying up to +watch it, but lingered for the first reel—and were lost.</p> + +<p>It was the same with the late, late show, a horror movie so badly done +that it served as a new type of comedy. By this time, all were too tired +to go to bed, and by mutual consent, they watched the program to the +end, then rallied in the kitchen for sandwiches and coffee.</p> + +<p>By the time the boys had retired to the houseboat, checked their +equipment, and climbed into diving suits of black neoprene with helmets +and socks, Orvil Harris was coming down the creek.</p> + +<p>Scotty checked the runabout outboard to make sure it would start easily +and that there was plenty of gas, while Rick put their tanks and +regulators aboard. Then, with a final farewell to Steve, the boys got +aboard Orvil's boat, secured the runabout to the stern, and started off.</p> + +<p>On the way to Swamp Creek, Rick and Scotty described their plan to the +crabber. Harris slapped his thigh. "Now we're gettin' somewhere. You +just lay the pole and rope up on the gunwale as I go by, and leave the +rest to me. If the thing on the bottom is too heavy, I can pull it in. +Got a line to put on it?"</p> + +<p>Rick admitted they had forgotten that detail. "We can cut a length off +the pole line."</p> + +<p>"No need. Plenty of short lengths in that rope locker behind you. Take +what you need."</p> + +<p>The boys each selected a ten-foot length of half-inch nylon rope, +sufficiently long for hauling the object up, if need be.</p> + +<p>Harris asked, "Sure you can find your way underwater in the dark?"</p> + +<p>"We have wrist compasses with luminous dials," Scotty explained.</p> + +<p>"Good. Any danger of you comin' up under me?"</p> + +<p>"No. We'll see the white bubbles from your prop. They'll be +phosphorescent." Rick pointed to the crab boat's wake. Thousands of tiny +bay creatures, most of them almost invisible bits of jelly, flashed blue +white as the prop disturbed them, so that the wake twinkled as though +studded with stars.</p> + +<p>They fell silent as Harris crossed the Little Choptank, the steady beat +of his motor nearly lost in the darkness. Rick could not make out +details or landmarks, but Harris knew the way as well as he knew the +inside of his own boat. Rick enjoyed the coolness of the night, and even +the heavy scent of the salted eel the crabber used as bait.</p> + +<p>Harris tapped each boy on the shoulder in turn, and pointed. They could +barely make out the entrance to the creek. They nodded, and shook hands, +then Rick pulled the runabout towline and brought the smaller boat to +the crabber's stern. Scotty stepped aboard and held out a hand. Rick +joined him, casting off as he embarked. In a moment they were adrift.</p> + +<p>It took only five minutes to get their tanks in place, put on fins, and +go through their routine of checking weight belt releases, making +certain that the emergency valves were in the "up" position on the +tanks, and ensuring that regulators were operating smoothly. Rick +slipped into the water with only a small splash, and Scotty followed. +They took the runabout's bow rope and swam easily and quietly.</p> + +<p>There was no hurry. Orvil Harris would need a little time to put out his +lines. He would avoid the pole they had placed; its top would be above +water at this stage of the tide.</p> + +<p>Scotty led the way to the opening into the small waterway through which +they had gone to the duck blind. He found it without difficulty, and for +the thousandth time Rick marveled at his pal's sure sense of position +and direction, even in darkness. The boat was pushed backward into the +opening and tied to a root.</p> + +<p>Rick rinsed his mask, put it on, and slid noiselessly under the water. +Scotty followed in a direct line, letting Rick pick the course, and +following by the feeling of Rick's flipper wash on his cheeks.</p> + +<p>It was like swimming in ink. Rick kept his hands out in case of +unexpected underwater objects, but forged ahead at a good speed. He kept +track of his own rate of progress through the water by timing the number +of flutter kicks per minute. At the count of fifty he turned to the +left, heading directly into the creek's mouth. He could hear the steady +beat of Orvil's motor. When he estimated he had covered the proper +distance, he stopped and let Scotty catch up with him. He put a hand on +his pal's shoulder and pressed down, a signal to hold position. Then, +very carefully, he swam to the top of the water and lifted his head +above the surface. He could see the sapling a dozen yards away, slightly +to his right. Orvil was putting out lines upstream, near the point where +Swamp Creek widened into the cove.</p> + +<p>Rick went under again and tapped Scotty. He headed for the pole, hands +outstretched to intercept it. His left hand hit it and held. Scotty came +alongside and they swam to the bottom. Both gripped the pole, put fins +flat against the muddy bottom, and heaved. The pole came up without +difficulty. While Scotty held it, Rick wrapped rope around it until the +line was fully wound again. Orvil's motor was nearer now. Rick took one +end of the pole while Scotty took the other. They operated entirely by +touch; nothing was visible except the luminous dials of their compasses. +The motor sound was muted in the burbling exhaust of their bubbles.</p> + +<p>It was almost possible to stand on flipper tips with head above water. +The boys thrust their heads out with care, and saw Orvil bearing down on +them, peering forward anxiously. He waved when he saw the two helmeted +heads. There was a slight gleam from the masks even in the darkness. As +he came alongside, the boys held the pole overhead, water churning under +their flippers. Orvil bent and took it, lifted it on board, and +continued on his path.</p> + +<p>The boys went under again, operating on a prearranged plan. This time +they swam side by side, hands searching for the fish line. Since Rick +knew the approximate position where he had tied it to the projecting +stump, he led the way toward shallow water, hoping to intercept it.</p> + +<p>The water shoaled rapidly as the boys approached the shore. Scotty's +hand suddenly gripped Rick's, and Rick felt the line.</p> + +<p>At the same instant, Rick was aware of bubbles in the water, a trail of +faint phosphorescence shooting downward past his mask. Then something +glanced from his tank and he heard a sharp clang like a brazen bell in +his ears. The impact rolled him partly over, and as he turned, another +line of phosphorescence streaked past his eyes.</p> + +<p>The skin on his back crawled in the blazing moment of recognition. They +were being shot at!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>The Night Watchers</h3> + + +<p>Scotty, who had realized they were being shot at, was pulling at Rick's +arm in frantic jerks, trying to lead him back into deeper water. Rick +needed no urging. His fins thrashed in the shallows as he drove +desperately for the safety of the deepest part of the cove, his hands +keeping contact with the bottom.</p> + +<p>The increased pressure on his eardrums told him they had reached the +sanctuary of deeper water where the velocity of bullets would be +absorbed before they could strike. He was bewildered. What had happened? +Who was shooting? For a moment it crossed his mind that Orvil might be +doing the shooting, but he dismissed it. He had no proof that the +crabber hadn't suddenly turned on them; he just didn't believe it.</p> + +<p>Yesterday Scotty had seen watchers on the shore, presumably from +Calvert's Favor. Apparently the watchers were there now. The boys had +gone into shallow water, and their tanks had shown above the surface, +drawing fire. It was the only reasonable explanation. Probably the night +watchers had seen the pole handed up to Orvil, or had seen the faint +light reflecting from their masks.</p> + +<p>What had happened to Orvil?</p> + +<p>One thing was certain. They couldn't stay on the bottom indefinitely.</p> + +<p>Rick consulted his wrist compass and closed his fingers on Scotty's +shoulder. He led the way toward the mouth of the cove.</p> + +<p>Somewhere on the shore, he thought, the night gunmen were watching the +line of bubbles. The boys' only hope of escaping detection had been to +avoid drawing attention to themselves. Rick knew that was impossible +with watchers on the shore. Watchers at four in the morning was one +thing he hadn't expected. What had drawn them?</p> + +<p>Suddenly he knew. While he, Steve, and Scotty had examined the mansion +through glasses from Orvil's boat, Merlin and company, or a single +guard, had been watching them. They had drawn attention not only to +Orvil, but to the time of day when the guards would need to be +especially alert.</p> + +<p>Bubbles would attract the guards' attention, not only because they +foamed on the surface, but because they would leave a glow of +phosphorescence. How far would bubbles and glow be visible? He had a +mental image of the watchers following the shoreline. They couldn't +cross the creek or its mouth to where Steve's runabout was stowed, but +they could shoot that far, if they could see the bubbles.</p> + +<p>The only way for Scotty and him to escape was to eliminate the bubble +track. That meant not breathing. Not breathing was possible for a short +time. During the interval, they could swim into the marsh grass and use +it for cover.</p> + +<p>Rick's thoughts raced. He tried to recall the shoreline. There must be +some promontory, some outcropping of grass, behind which they could +hide. Perhaps the best way was simply to swim directly out from the +creek mouth until distance hid the bubbles and darkness shrouded two +black-covered heads.</p> + +<p>There was a problem, though. Scotty's air tank hadn't been used until +now. Rick's had, during the initial search yesterday. He estimated +quickly. Less air is used at shallow depths than at deeper depths. The +water depth for most of the way was shallow enough so that tank time was +essentially the same as swimming on the surface. He had had at least +forty-five minutes of air to begin with, and it might be stretched to +fifty minutes. He probably had used no more than forty minutes of air, +total. But the remaining ten minutes would not take them out into really +deep water in the river itself, and then back to shore. There was not +enough air to take them to Steve's place.</p> + +<p>He had to make up his mind. Scotty, undoubtedly, was doing some fast +thinking along the same lines. Their thoughts usually followed the same +track in such situations. Rick touched Scotty's side and forged ahead, +heading straight out. He counted his kicks, estimating distance covered. +When he reached a count of three hundred he angled right, toward the +north shore of the Little Choptank. They were well out of the creek now.</p> + +<p>When the water shoaled, he found Scotty again and pressed him down; +then, very gingerly, he put his head above water, half expecting to feel +the shock of a bullet.</p> + +<p>There was a fallen tree nearby. He submerged again, touched Scotty, and +led the way to its shelter. A cautious survey told him they were some +distance from the creek mouth, and certainly invisible behind the +waterlogged trunk and its load of leaves and other debris.</p> + +<p>He put his lips to Scotty's ear. "Wonder what happened to Orvil?"</p> + +<p>"We've got to find out," Scotty whispered back.</p> + +<p>"Yes, but how?"</p> + +<p>"We go overland."</p> + +<p>Of course! They were on the same side as the boat, and not far away. +There was the stretch of marsh between the channel and the creek. They +could cross that, and overlook the creek. "Let's go," Rick whispered.</p> + +<p>They inched their way along the fallen tree to the bank, then crawled +slowly into the shelter of the marsh grass. The grass grew in a narrow +swath at this point, with a tangle of scrub and trees deeper inland. +They kept going until the scrub concealed them, listening for sounds +from the creek. There was the beat of a motor. It sounded like Orvil's +boat, and Rick thought it probably was. But would Orvil continue +crabbing? Again the doubt came. Had the crabber tried to kill them? He +couldn't believe it.</p> + +<p>The boys stopped and slipped off their fins. "Lead on," Rick said +softly.</p> + +<p>"Okay. When we get to the boat, we'll wade across the channel and +continue right on through the marsh grass to the bank of the creek. We'd +better be as quiet as possible."</p> + +<p>"I'm with you."</p> + +<p>Carrying their swim fins, the boys started through the dense growth, +Scotty in the lead. It was hard going. Mosquitoes whined in a steady +swarm around their heads, but with the neoprene suits and helmets, only +their faces and hands were exposed. Each traveled with one hand +outstretched to fend off branches, the other hand waving the fins to +chase the insects from their faces. The outstretched hands were wiped +frequently across the suits to get rid of the pests.</p> + +<p>Rick was careful to step where Scotty stepped. When it came to silent +tracking at night, the ex-Marine had few peers.</p> + +<p>The two skirted the shore, keeping within the tree belt, until more +marsh grass warned them that the water was near. The ground gave way to +mud, and the mud to water. They stepped into the narrow channel up which +they had gone to the blind. They now were less than two yards from the +runabout. Scotty turned at once, and keeping to the water, moved +upstream. Rick followed, careful not to splash. The darkness was less +dense than under the trees, but he could not make out any details.</p> + +<p>The channel ran roughly parallel to the creek, with a strip of land +about thirty yards wide between the two. When Scotty estimated they were +even with the cove, he left the channel and moved into the marsh grass +again. Rick followed closely, careful to make no noise. In spite of +their best efforts there was an occasional sucking sound as his foot or +Scotty's pulled out of the muck, and there was a steady rustle of marsh +grass. He hoped that the sounds were drowned out by the steady chugging +of Orvil's motor.</p> + +<p>Scotty slowed to a cautious pace and Rick knew they were approaching the +creek bank. The marsh grass did not thin appreciably. Rick wondered if +the night watchers could see the tassels of the grass waving as they +approached, and decided that the small motion probably was invisible +against the high bank of trees farther inland.</p> + +<p>Rick stopped as Scotty turned. Soundlessly, Scotty lowered himself to +the mud, then inched ahead, moving each strand of marsh grass with care. +Rick followed suit, and crawled in Scotty's track until he saw the +glimmer of water. Then, moving with great caution, he drew alongside his +pal. They looked out into the cove through a thin screen of grass +stalks.</p> + +<p>Orvil Harris was crabbing, as unconcerned as though nothing had +happened. As Rick stared, disbelieving, the crabber's net swooped.</p> + +<p>The crab boat moved on, exposing a glow on the opposite bank. Rick +sucked in his breath. He could make out the forms of two men. One was +smoking a cigarette. Both carried rifles.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV</h2> + +<h3>Daybreak</h3> + + +<p>Rick tugged at Scotty's suit, then crawfished backward through the marsh +grass until he was sure the night watchers could not see him. He stood +up, and Scotty joined him. Rick motioned toward their own boat.</p> + +<p>The boys made their way back through the swamp to the runabout in almost +total silence, each busy with his own thoughts.</p> + +<p>Orvil Harris was crabbing as though nothing had happened, while the +night watchers stood in plain sight on the opposite shore. Orvil must +have seen the shots fired, Rick was certain. Even if he had been looking +the other way, the first shot would have caught his attention.</p> + +<p>Or, Rick wondered, had Orvil tipped off the two guards that divers were +below? If so, the game was up. Once Merlin and company knew the payload +had fallen into the cove, they would be diving for it themselves, under +cover of guns. Merlin undoubtedly knew that the launching the evening of +the squall had gone wrong, but he couldn't know how, or where.</p> + +<p>But somehow, Rick didn't think Orvil had been a party to the shooting. +Maybe it was stubbornness, refusing to think the crabber was involved +just because they liked him. Or maybe it was because the crabber had no +reason for helping Merlin and his gang; at least Harris had no reason +known to Rick and Scotty.</p> + +<p>They reached the boat and conferred in whispers that were inaudible six +feet away.</p> + +<p>"Could Orvil have put the finger on us?" Scotty questioned.</p> + +<p>Rick shrugged. "I don't want to think so, and I don't. But I have to +admit it's possible."</p> + +<p>"If he's in with them, they'll be diving for the 'what's-it' at first +light."</p> + +<p>Rick glanced at the eastern sky. It was beginning to glow with the first +hint of daylight. "That's not long from now."</p> + +<p>"How are we going to recover it first?"</p> + +<p>Again Rick shrugged. "There's only one way. Go in and get it."</p> + +<p>"Under those guns?"</p> + +<p>"A diver on the bottom isn't in danger from the guns. I could find the +thing again without going into the shallows. That's what made us targets +before, because we took the easy way to locate the fish line by going +into the shallows near where I tied the line."</p> + +<p>"Let's see your tank," Scotty whispered.</p> + +<p>Rick unsnapped his harness release and swung the tank around. Their +probing fingers soon identified where the bullet had glanced off. There +was a dent, coated with silvery metal.</p> + +<p>"Lead," Rick said. "Part of the slug."</p> + +<p>"Good thing it didn't rupture the tank."</p> + +<p>Rick shuddered. "If it had, I'd have been out of air suddenly and +would've had to come up. Listen, Scotty. My plan is a simple one. I'll +take your tank, since you have the most air, and swim right into the +cove, find the 'what's-it' and swim out again. If it's too heavy to tow +far, I can at least wrestle it part of the way, and then bury it in the +mud. Meanwhile, you get the boat out where it's clear and be ready to +pick me up."</p> + +<p>"They'll see your bubbles, but they can't do anything about it with +rifles," Scotty pointed out. "One thing they can do, though, is jump in +after you. The cove isn't so deep that a pair of good swimmers couldn't +tackle you. The lung wouldn't improve your chances by much."</p> + +<p>"Too true," Rick observed. "But what else can we try?"</p> + +<p>Scotty thought it over. "Listen, we'll take the boat out right now. +You'll have to do the diving, because you know about where the thing is, +and I don't. When we get out, you go over the side. I'll run around to +the river, opposite where the guards are standing, and raise a little +fuss. That might draw their attention away from the cove."</p> + +<p>"Okay." It made sense to Rick. "They'll see both of us in the boat, but +they won't see me get out. Only you'd better plan our course. I have no +aching desire to collect a rifle slug where it hurts."</p> + +<p>"They may not shoot if they see we're leaving," Scotty pointed out.</p> + +<p>"Uh-huh. And they might shoot, anyway."</p> + +<p>"They might. But we'll be moving fast, and I'll swing that boat from +side to side like a swivel-hipped fullback. Let's get going. We don't +want too much daylight."</p> + +<p>Scotty unsnapped his harness and Rick took his pal's tank and regulator. +They put Rick's unit in the bottom of the runabout cockpit, along with +Scotty's fins and mask. Rick put on his own fins and made sure he was +ready to hit the water at a moment's notice.</p> + +<p>Rick went to the stern of the runabout and felt down the motor leg to +the prop to make sure it had not picked up any grass that might slow +them down. It was clear. Scotty, meanwhile, untied the boat and slid +into the driver's seat. Rick reached over the transom and pumped up the +gasoline tank to ensure plenty of pressure, then he waded to the side of +the boat and got into the seat next to Scotty.</p> + +<p>"Pull us out to where the nose is almost projecting beyond the grass," +Scotty whispered.</p> + +<p>Rick did so, by grasping clumps of marsh grass and pulling the boat +along. As the bow cleared the grass, Scotty punched the starter button, +threw the runabout into gear, and shoved the throttle all the way +forward.</p> + +<p>The runabout jumped forward, slamming Rick back against his tank. The +boat hit the shoal at the entrance and slowed for a long, breathtaking +moment, then the driving prop pushed it over into deeper water. The +stern went down and the bow lifted, and they were clear.</p> + +<p>Scotty swung the boat to the right, putting its stern to the cove. Rick +tensed, expecting any moment to feel the impact of a rifle bullet, +either in the boat or in his own body. There was no sound other than the +racing motor, and he knew it would drown out the crack of a distant +rifle.</p> + +<p>The distance from the cove entrance widened. "Get ready!" Scotty yelled. +"Lay flat and be ready to roll. I'll turn so the motor is moving away +from you. When I tap you, we'll be directly in line with the cove +entrance."</p> + +<p>Rick moved out of the seat, keeping low, and lay on his side along the +gunwale, facing Scotty. He put the mouthpiece in place and made sure he +was getting air, then pulled his mask down. He was ready. The impact +with the water would be hard, at this speed, but his tank would cushion +the shock. He tensed for the signal.</p> + +<p>Scotty swung the boat to the left, held it on course for a moment, then +began a shallow turn to the right. That way, the motor would be steering +itself away from Rick when he went over.</p> + +<p>The boat came abreast of the cove entrance and Scotty slapped Rick on +the shoulder. Instantly Rick rolled, one hand reaching for the back of +his head, the other grabbing his mask. He hit the water on his back, his +hand and the tank breaking the shock of the stunning impact. He threw +his legs upward, and his momentum took him under the water instantly.</p> + +<p>The racing motor receded, leaving him in silent darkness. He rolled over +into normal swimming position and consulted his wrist compass. The creek +entrance ran on a course of 80 degrees. If Scotty had gauged things +correctly, that course would take him into the cove. If Scotty hadn't, +Rick Brant would end up on the beach like a stranded whale.</p> + +<p>Rick considered. The boat was gone, and it was extremely unlikely anyone +had seen him leave it. The turn had caused the boat to tilt, lifting the +side away from him. He was certain that the guards had not seen the +maneuver. That being so, and taking into account his distance from the +creek entrance, he thought it would be safe to look and check his +course.</p> + +<p>He held the compass in front of his eyes, and rose to the surface. He +broke through slowly and without a splash. One look was enough. He +should have trusted Scotty. He was dead on course.</p> + +<p>Rick went to the bottom and began the long swim, counting his leg +strokes. He and Scotty had practiced estimating underwater distance by +the number and timing of their leg strokes. It wasn't an exact method, +of course, but it was practical.</p> + +<p>There were no underwater obstacles, and the depth was great enough. Rick +remembered from the chart that the entrance into the creek varied from +eight to eleven feet, dropping inside the creek mouth to about seven. No +bullet could harm him if he stayed on the bottom. If the night watchers +fired, the bullet would be slowed by the water.</p> + +<p>He heard the sound of a motor and recognized it as the runabout. The +sound faded again. Scotty was going through some kind of maneuvers. +Then, in a short time, another motor made itself felt, more than heard. +The slower beat identified it as Orvil Harris's crab boat. He was +nearing the cove!</p> + +<p>Like all divers, Rick's ears were sensitive to pressure changes. Sensing +when the depth lessened, he knew he had reached the cove itself. Now to +find the payload—if it was a payload. His groping hands began the +search.</p> + +<p>The first foreign object he touched was a cord. It was the wrong +thickness for his own line, and he felt along it until he came to a +soft, round mass, and knew he was touching one of Orvil's crab baits. He +grinned in spite of the mouthpiece. Wouldn't Orvil be surprised if a +diver came up hanging to his bait!</p> + +<p>He let the crab line drop and continued his search. Once, Orvil passed +within a few feet of him, and Rick wondered if the crabber had noticed +the air bubbles from his regulator.</p> + +<p>Rising ground told Rick he had reached the end of the cove. He turned +left and held his course for about twenty feet, then turned left again, +heading back toward the cove entrance. His hands never stopped moving, +probing the mud for a trace of fish line. He crossed another of Orvil's +crab lines, and kept going until pressure change told him he was back in +the deeper water at the creek entrance. He turned right again. A check +of his compass told him he was on course.</p> + +<p>His groping hands trailed over a thin line. He grabbed it, and stopped +his flutter kick. Then, moving with care, he turned and followed the +line. His pulse was faster now, and he rigidly controlled his breathing. +Fast breathing wouldn't do, and he would have to be careful not to let +out a sigh that would cause bubbles to gush upward in one big rush.</p> + +<p>A hand found the end of the line and the smooth cylinder to which it was +attached. Orvil passed very close, and Rick looked upward. He could see +the white circle of water around the single propeller.</p> + +<p>Now to find out what he had. His hands stroked it from one end to the +other. One end was rounded. The other was a circle with an odd-shaped +hole running into it. Rick poked his finger in, but couldn't feel the +end of the depression. The only protuberance on the thing was a band +near the rounded end. The band felt like metal, and had two rings +projecting from it. The rest of the cylinder didn't feel like metal. The +texture was that of a smooth plastic.</p> + +<p>Rick lifted the object gingerly. It was hard to estimate weight under +water, but he thought ten pounds would be about right. The total length +was less than three feet. It would be easy to carry.</p> + +<p>This time he needed a reciprocal compass course. It would be 260 degrees +going out. He oriented himself properly, picked up the cylinder, and +began the long swim back. He wondered if Merlin's guards were watching +his bubbles. He had seen no sign of bullets, but he hadn't been looking +for them. With Orvil's motor so near, it was likely he would not have +heard the slap of a bullet on the water.</p> + +<p>Pressure told him he was out of the cove. He breathed a little easier. +Now to count leg strokes again. He looked up, and saw that the surface +of the water was shining with light, the first rays of true daylight. +Scotty would have no trouble finding him.</p> + +<p>Because of the daylight, he continued on for a distance beyond where +Scotty had dropped him. No use giving the guards too good a shot. +Finally, exhausted, he surfaced. He lifted his mask and surveyed the +scene.</p> + +<p>Orvil Harris was still crabbing. Rick could see the boat, but the angle +was wrong for him to see the crabber at work. He turned slowly in the +water, and saw Scotty. The runabout was floating, motor off, about a +mile away. He lifted an arm. The glint of first sunrise turned the +lenses of Scotty's binoculars into a crimson eye, and Scotty waved back. +In a few seconds Rick heard the motor start and saw the boat racing +toward him. He kept his mouthpiece in place, and floated, waiting.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="illus3" id="illus3"></a> +<img src="images/illus3.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3><i>Now to find out what he had</i></h3> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Scotty came alongside and reached down. Rick handed him the cylinder. +Scotty put it on the seat without even looking at it. He gave Rick a +hand and pulled him over the side. He asked anxiously, "Are you all +right?"</p> + +<p>"Done in," Rick said wearily. "But otherwise okay."</p> + +<p>"Let's get out of here." Scotty put the runabout in gear and headed back +toward Martins Creek.</p> + +<p>Rick sat down and picked up the cylinder. There was a gob of mud still +on it. He wiped it off with his hand and examined the thing. The +material was fiber glass set in resin, and it was designed so the +rounded nose could be removed. He didn't remove it, however. Instead he +looked at the other end, down into the hole with the puzzling shape. It +was like a cutout Star of David in shape, the hole gradually narrowing +until its apex was almost at the other end.</p> + +<p>The light dawned. Rick's lips formed the word. "Grain."</p> + +<p>Scotty was watching. "What?"</p> + +<p>"Grain," Rick said again. "This thing is a small solid-propellant +rocket!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV</h2> + +<h3>The Empty Boat</h3> + + +<p>The Swiss torsion clock on Steve Ames's fireplace mantle read 6:49. Rick +and Scotty, in slacks, shirts, and moccasins, sat in armchairs and tried +to stay awake. The small rocket, cleaned and dried, rested on a +newspaper on Steve's table.</p> + +<p>"Rockoon," Rick said. "That explains the funny antenna, the presence of +the electronics expert, and why the stingarees are launched."</p> + +<p>"Not to me, it doesn't," Scotty retorted. He sipped steaming coffee. +"What was that word you used? Grain?"</p> + +<p>Rick nodded sleepily. "That's what solid rocket fuel is called. It's +poured into the casing around a form. The form is withdrawn after the +fuel hardens. The shape is designed to give maximum burning surface. +Since the solid fuel is grainy, it's called grain."</p> + +<p>"Logical," Scotty replied with a languid wave of his hand. "All +perfectly logical. I also understand that a rockoon is a combination of +a rocket and a balloon. The balloon carries the rocket up to where the +air is less dense, then the rocket fires and breaks away. How does the +rocket know when to fire?"</p> + +<p>"Two ways. A barometric switch can be installed that will act at a +certain altitude, or a signal can be sent from the ground."</p> + +<p>"The antenna," Scotty said. "It can send a signal."</p> + +<p>"Sure."</p> + +<p>"I'm with you all the way, until you say this shows why the stingarees +fly. Why send up rockoons? What's the reason?"</p> + +<p>Rick forgot he was holding a coffee cup and waved his hand. He recovered +in time to keep from spilling the hot liquid on Steve's rug. "Scientific +research is usually the reason for rockoons. They carry experiments."</p> + +<p>Scotty snorted. "Are you telling me Lefty Camillion has turned +scientist?"</p> + +<p>"Nope." Rick yawned. "I take it back. We still don't know why the +stingarees fly. We only know what they are. Where do you suppose Steve +is?"</p> + +<p>"That's the eighth time you've asked. He'll be here when that business +of his is over."</p> + +<p>The telephone rang. Rick jumped to his feet and beat Scotty to the phone +only because he was four steps nearer. "Hello?"</p> + +<p>An unfamiliar voice spoke. "Stay away from the creek, and stay away from +the house. If you don't, your crab-catching buddy is going to be turned +into crab food." The line went dead.</p> + +<p>Rick turned, eyes wide. Suddenly he was no longer sleepy. "Did you hear +that? He said to stay away from the creek and the house, or our +crab-catching buddy would be turned into crab food!"</p> + +<p>"He must have meant Orvil Harris!" Scotty exclaimed. "Rick, let's get +going!"</p> + +<p>The boys started for the door at a run, but Rick stopped as his eye +caught the rocket. "Check the gas," he told Scotty. "Steve has a spare +can in the workshop. The runabout tank must be getting low. I'm going to +hide the rocket."</p> + +<p>Scotty left at a run. Rick picked up the rocket and surveyed the scene. +Where could he hide it? He hurried into the kitchen and examined the +cabinets, then shook his head. Too obvious.</p> + +<p>The refrigerator caught his eye. An apron at the bottom concealed the +motor unit. He knelt and pulled the apron free from its fastenings. +There was room next to the motor—unless the heat of the motor caused +the rocket fuel to burn. He opened the refrigerator and examined the +control, then turned it to "defrost." It wouldn't go on until they got +back. Hurriedly he put the small rocket in at a slight angle. It just +fit. He snapped the cover back in place and ran to join Scotty, who was +already in the boat.</p> + +<p>"Gas okay," Scotty called. "Let's go."</p> + +<p>Rick cast off and jumped aboard. Scotty started the motor and backed +into the stream, then turned sharply and headed toward the river. +Neither boy spoke. Their sleepiness was gone now, forgotten in their +fear for Orvil.</p> + +<p>Scotty held the runabout wide open, at its top speed of nearly twenty +miles an hour. They sped across the Little Choptank River straight for +Swamp Creek, with no effort at concealment.</p> + +<p>Rick saw a low, white boat some distance down the river and grabbed +Scotty's arm. "Isn't that Orvil's boat?"</p> + +<p>Scotty looked for a long moment. "It looks like it. Let's go see."</p> + +<p>They swung onto a new course, in pursuit of the white boat. It might not +be Orvil's, but it was like it. Both boys could now recognize the design +characteristic of boats built on the Chesapeake Bay. The boats were +known as "bay builts," and distinguished by their straight bows—almost +vertical to the water line—square sterns, and flaring sides. The design +was ideal for the shallow, choppy waters of the bay, and the boats could +take a heavy bay storm with greater comfort and safety than most +deep-water models.</p> + +<p>As they came closer both boys looked for the boat's occupant, but there +was no one in sight. Worried, Scotty held top speed until they were +nearly alongside, then he throttled down and put his gunwale next to +that of the crab boat.</p> + +<p>"It's Orvil's," Rick said. "But where is he?"</p> + +<p>"Get aboard," Scotty suggested.</p> + +<p>"Okay." Rick stood up and timed his motion with the slight roll of both +boats, then stepped into the crabber. Orvil's crab lines were coiled +neatly in their barrels, the stone crab-line anchors and floats were +stacked along the side of the boat. There were three covered bushel +baskets of crabs, and extra baskets stacked in place. One open basket +held a dozen jumbo crabs. Orvil's net was in its rack on the engine box, +but there was no sign of Orvil himself.</p> + +<p>Wait—there was a sign. Rick knelt by a small brown patch on the deck. +He touched it, and a chill lanced through him. Blood, and only recently +dried. Orvil's?</p> + +<p>Rick straightened. Someone had turned the boat loose, idled down to its +lowest speed. The stable crab boat had continued on course, heading out +the mouth of the Little Choptank into the wide bay. Only a bloodstain +showed that there had been violence aboard.</p> + +<p>The flying stingaree had claimed another victim!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI</h2> + +<h3>Steve Waits It Out</h3> + + +<p>The two-boat procession moved down Martins Creek at slow speed, Scotty +leading in the runabout and Rick following in Orvil's boat. The boys had +decided to take the crab boat back to Steve's, because it could not be +left adrift, and they did not know where Orvil berthed it.</p> + +<p>Both agreed it was senseless to return to Swamp Creek. That wouldn't +help Orvil, at least for now, and they might possibly be picked off by +the riflemen.</p> + +<p>As they neared the pier, Scotty moved out of the way while Rick backed +the big crab boat into the runabout's place. Before he had finished, +Steve was coming down the walk at a run.</p> + +<p>The agent took the line Rick tossed and made it fast, then caught +another line and secured the bow. Scotty backed in with the runabout and +Rick helped him secure the smaller boat to the side of the crabber.</p> + +<p>"Bumpers on the houseboat," Rick called. "Under the cockpit deck."</p> + +<p>Steve hurried to get them, and they were placed between the crab boat +and the runabout to prevent rubbing.</p> + +<p>The boys climbed to the pier and faced their friend.</p> + +<p>"We found the boat headed into the bay," Rick said grimly. "Bloodstain +on the deck, but no other sign of violence. We had a phone call telling +us to keep away from the creek and the house, or Orvil would be fed to +the crabs. There's no doubt about it. They have Orvil."</p> + +<p>Strangely, Steve replied, "Yes, I know. Come on in the house."</p> + +<p>The three walked up the path to the farmhouse, with Rick and Scotty +staring incredulously at the agent. How had he known?</p> + +<p>"Did you get a phone call after we left?" Rick asked.</p> + +<p>Steve shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Then how did you know?" Scotty demanded.</p> + +<p>Steve held up a hand. "Easy, kids. I'm trying to get my thoughts +straightened out a little and make some plans. We'll talk it over +shortly."</p> + +<p>Inside the house, Rick went at once to the refrigerator. As the others +watched, he pulled the bottom panel loose, took out the small rocket, +and replaced the panel. Then he turned the refrigerator control back to +normal and handed the rocket to Steve.</p> + +<p>The agent examined it wordlessly, his forehead wrinkled in thought. Then +he put it down on the kitchen table and investigated the state of the +coffeepot while Rick and Scotty stood first on one foot, then the other, +and fumed quietly.</p> + +<p>Steve decided more coffee was needed and proceeded to make it. Not until +the pot was heating did he motion the boys to sit down at the kitchen +table. He joined them, turning a chair around and straddling it, his +chin resting on his hands on the back, his eyes alert.</p> + +<p>"Testing our patience again?" Rick asked acidly.</p> + +<p>Steve's warm grin flashed. "Sorry, kids. I was working over a few facts +in my head, trying to make them add up. Okay, let's talk. Start by +telling me about last night."</p> + +<p>The boys reported, taking turns. "At first we thought Orvil might have +told the riflemen guards we were on the bottom," Rick said finally, "but +that's out. He's a victim, not a member of the gang. I saw his boat just +before Scotty picked me up, but I couldn't see him."</p> + +<p>Scotty picked up the tale. "After Rick dropped off, I made a high-speed +run out into the river, then turned and headed for a spot on the north +bank opposite where I thought the guards were. I got in close to shore +and throttled down, deliberately giving them a chance at me if they +wanted to take it. There weren't any shots, but I saw one of the guards. +The visibility wasn't very good, so I propped the extra tank up in the +seat and put my headpiece and mask on it, hoping any watchers would +think there were two of us. I don't know whether they were fooled or +not."</p> + +<p>"Pretty smart," Steve approved.</p> + +<p>"Thanks. I ran back out into the river and fished around in the locker +under the seat. You had a few old wrenches there, and some rags. Well, I +owe you a wrench. It was the biggest one, which means it isn't used very +often on an outboard, anyway."</p> + +<p>"Just so long as it wasn't my size seven-sixteenths wrench," Steve said +with a grin. "Go on."</p> + +<p>"It wasn't. I wrapped rags around it and tied them with a hunk of line, +then searched for matches. I finally found a paper folder in the glove +compartment. I had to open the gas tank and let out pressure to get any +gas on the rags, and it wasn't easy, standing on my head in the cockpit. +What I really needed was a Coke bottle. I could have made a Molotov +cocktail by filling it with gas and using the rag for a fuse. Well, I +made another run inshore and watched for the boys with rifles. They +didn't show up. I got as close as I could without grounding, touched a +match to my bomb, and heaved it into the marsh grass. My eyebrows took a +beating." Scotty rubbed the slightly scorched areas.</p> + +<p>"I wanted to set the marsh on fire, but the blaze was only a small one. +I figured if the grass would burn, the riflemen would have to run +upstream to safety. But the stuff only charred in a circle. Anyway, it +scared them. They came running to stamp it out, and one of them took a +shot at me. But I was nearly a mile out from the creek by then, and he +didn't even come close."</p> + +<p>"Let's hope I never have you two for enemies," Steve said fervently.</p> + +<p>Scotty concluded, "I decided Rick probably had been in and out of the +cove by that time, so I moved to where I could watch with binoculars, +putting the sunrise behind where I thought he would appear. I knew I +could see him better against the light. Finally up he popped, and away I +went, and here we are."</p> + +<p>Rick ended their recital. "We got back and took off our diving suits, +then went for a swim with a bar of soap. When we were clean, except for +my hands, which got stained by the mud, we dressed and came into the +house. We were sitting down enjoying coffee and trying to keep awake +when the phone rang. How did those hoods get the number, anyway?"</p> + +<p>"That's not hard," Steve said. "It's probable that Camillion's boys +started checking up on you the moment you showed interest. My car is +known at the local gas stations. It would be just a matter of asking who +owns a convertible of that description. Name and telephone directory add +up to the right number. Watching you enter Martins Creek would cap the +information. You could be seen easily with glasses from the river shore +opposite the cove."</p> + +<p>The agent got up and turned down the stove as the coffee began to +percolate. "My tale is pretty short."</p> + +<p>"Wag it, anyway," Rick suggested.</p> + +<p>Steve put a hand to his forehead. "Gags like that at this time of day +cause shooting pains. Please be attentive, and not waggish."</p> + +<p>"Ouch!" Scotty exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Steve sat down again. "After you were safely on your way I changed to +dark clothes, smeared a little black goo on my face, and took off for +Calvert's Favor. I drove to within a half mile and parked the car in the +woods, then hiked. The first thing I came to was a chain-link fence. It +took some time to see if it was wired for an alarm—and it was. So I had +to find a tree with a limb that overhung the fence. I'd taken the +precaution of carrying a rope. I found the tree, fixed the rope to an +overhanging limb, and down I went."</p> + +<p>"We could have postponed recovering the payload and helped you," Scotty +said reproachfully.</p> + +<p>"Sure you could. But I'm used to operating alone, and I was interested +in what you might find in the cove. Anyway, I approached from behind the +barn and had to take cover when two men went by. They had rifles. They +headed down the peninsula toward the cove. I scouted around, but no +other guards were in sight, so I started with the barn."</p> + +<p>Steve paused. "That is quite a barn. No hay, no oats, no horses. But it +has the loveliest dish antenna in it you've ever seen."</p> + +<p>"A microwave dish?" Rick gasped.</p> + +<p>"Exactly. It's mounted on a truck, and I suspect the electronic gear is +inside. I couldn't get a good look. There are also little cubicles +inside the barn, probably horse stalls, and I could hear a man snoring +in one of them. There wasn't much light, and I couldn't use my little +flashlight beam too freely, but I did get a look at several gas bottles +racked along one wall. They were big ones, of the kind used for +commercial gases like propane or oxygen."</p> + +<p>"Or hydrogen?" Scotty asked quickly.</p> + +<p>"Or hydrogen," Steve agreed. "And that's probably what they contain, for +inflating the balloons."</p> + +<p>He got up, turned off the coffee, and poured three cups. "Along about +that time, I heard rifleshots. You can imagine what I thought. I had a +vision of two bodies sinking slowly into the mud. If I'd had a weapon, I +think I'd have run down to see what was going on. But common sense got +the better of me, and I figured it was highly unlikely that a pair of +divers could be picked off with rifles if they were underwater. I was +sure you had sense enough to stay down. So I left the barn and went to +the house."</p> + +<p>"You actually went in?" Rick asked, his eyes wide.</p> + +<p>"Sure. It was safe enough. The gang was sleeping upstairs and the two +guards were interested in you and Orvil. No papers were left where I +could get them. There's a built-in safe, but I'm no Jimmy Valentine who +sandpapers his fingers and opens boxes by touch. I couldn't do anything +with it. Finally, I figured all had been seen that could be seen, and +left the house. I could hear a motor racing, and I recognized the +runabout, so I knew you were still alive. I retired to the woods behind +the barn and headed for the riverbank. I saw Scotty hurl his homemade +bomb."</p> + +<p>Scotty shook his head. "I didn't see you."</p> + +<p>"You weren't supposed to. I decided Scotty must be creating a diversion, +and that meant you, Rick, were still diving in the cove. I took off for +the cove, keeping a weather eye out for the guards. There was plenty of +cover along the bank, so it wasn't hard. I got a good view of the +festivities. After the fire was stamped out, the two guards walked up to +the bank of the cove and waited until Orvil got close, then they pointed +their rifles at him and invited him to come closer still. He didn't have +much choice."</p> + +<p>Rick thought that was an understatement.</p> + +<p>"They questioned him for a while. Who were the divers and what were they +after? Orvil played dumb. He said he knew nothing about divers and of +course he had seen bubbles. He always saw bubbles. Marsh gas was rising +all the time. He couldn't understand what all the shooting was about."</p> + +<p>"Good for Orvil," Scotty muttered.</p> + +<p>"He put on a pretty good act, saying he didn't know what they were +shooting at, but the guards weren't having any. They finally made him +pull up his lines, throw his bait overboard, and get everything +shipshape. Then one of the guards invited him to step ashore. Orvil +balked and took a swing at the nearest one and got a rifle across the +head. He dropped to the deck. That must be how the stain got there. They +slapped him back into consciousness and made him get out. One guard held +a rifle on him while the other put his weapon down and got in the boat. +He took the boat out into the middle of the cove, aimed it toward the +river, and put it in gear, then dove over the side and swam ashore. The +boat headed out and the guards walked Orvil back."</p> + +<p>"So he's alive," Rick said with relief.</p> + +<p>"Probably. I waited until the parade went by, then fell in line. They +took Orvil into the barn, and I managed to get a look through a window. +They tossed him into one of the horse stalls and locked the barn door. I +decided it was time to leave."</p> + +<p>Steve sipped his coffee and made a face as it burned his tongue. "You +can imagine how I felt. If one had gone away, I could have jumped the +other. But two with guns, and me with not even a rock—I was dead +certain to end up with Orvil. Besides, I couldn't take the chance."</p> + +<p>Rick stared. If Steve felt he couldn't take a chance on rescuing Orvil, +there had to be a good reason. The only reason Rick could think of was +that Steve had decided there was more at stake than Orvil himself.</p> + +<p>"We know where Orvil is," Scotty pointed out. "We can go after him. This +time we'll be armed."</p> + +<p>Steve shook his head. "Sorry. I wish it could be like that, but we're +not engaged in a personal vendetta. Orvil may be out of there by +tonight, or he may not. He'll have to take his chances."</p> + +<p>One thing had been bothering Rick, aside from Steve's untypical attitude +about rescuing Orvil. "You haven't accounted for all your time. You +could have reached here before we did if you had started back right +away."</p> + +<p>Steve shook his head. "I didn't. I went to the airport and used a public +phone booth by the side of the road to call Patuxent Naval Air Station. +In twenty minutes I had a Navy jet fighter on the Cambridge field. I +handed the pilot the pictures you took and told him what to do with +them, then I made another call to my office in Washington to tell them +the pictures were on the way and to look them over and take action +accordingly. We'll be seeing the results pretty soon."</p> + +<p>The young agent stopped smiling. "Your little mystery has turned into a +case for JANIG, kids. I'm pretty sure of my facts, but I'll know +definitely before noon. Right now, you'd better finish your coffee and +get into bed. You'll need sleep if things start to pop. That rockoon +idea of yours about cinches things."</p> + +<p>Rick blurted, "If it's a case for JANIG, there must be security involved +somewhere. Is Wallops Island involved somehow?"</p> + +<p>"Go to bed," Steve said sternly. "By the time you wake up, I'll have a +lot more than guesses, and I'll give you the details then."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII</h2> + +<h3>Crowd at Martins Creek</h3> + + +<p>Rick and Scotty awoke to find four newcomers at Steve's house. Steve +introduced them to Dave Cobb, electronics specialist; Joe Vitalli and +Chuck Howard, JANIG agents; and Roy McDevitt from Wallops Island.</p> + +<p>McDevitt, who had just driven over from the rocket range, was a tall, +lean engineer dressed in slacks and a spectacular sport shirt emblazoned +with tropical flowers. He shook hands cordially. "You're Hartson Brant's +boys. We've certainly enjoyed having your family over at the island. +When Barby and Jan leave, the whole base will go into mourning."</p> + +<p>Rick grinned. "Somebody loses, somebody wins. We're anxious to have them +back with us again."</p> + +<p>Vitalli and Howard greeted the boys as old comrades. Although they had +had no chance to become well acquainted, the two agents had been part of +the JANIG team during the case of <i>The Whispering Box Mystery</i>.</p> + +<p>Dave Cobb, who was scarcely older than the boys, had been hastily +borrowed from the Naval Research Laboratory in Washington. He spared no +time for greetings other than a cordial wave, and immediately got to +work on the rocket Rick had found in the cove.</p> + +<p>The group pulled chairs up to the kitchen table on which Cobb was +working, and watched.</p> + +<p>Cobb studied the rocket for a few minutes, then took a pointed tool and +pressed it into a spot five inches below the rounded nose. He rotated +the cylinder and pressed a similar spot on the other side. Rick saw a +thin line appear around the rocket below where Cobb had pressed.</p> + +<p>The electronics specialist gripped the cylinder above and below the thin +line and twisted. The nose of the rocket came off. Cobb pointed to a +pair of metal prongs that extended out of the nose into the rocket +casing. "Contacts," he said. "They press against strips inside the +rocket casing. The whole assembly acts as a dipole antenna."</p> + +<p>No one commented. Cobb took a tiny screwdriver and removed two screws +from a metal plate in the bottom of the nose cone. The screws were long +ones, holding the entire nose assembly in place. With the screws laid +carefully aside, Cobb tapped the cone and the assembly dropped into his +hand.</p> + +<p>"A terrific job of miniaturization," he commented. "First-rate design." +He pointed with a screwdriver to a segment about the size of two silver +dollars stacked together. "Tape recorder. It accumulates data, then +plays it back in a single high-speed burst."</p> + +<p>Rick watched, fascinated, as the electronics expert identified +components and circuits. The whole unit, scarcely larger than a common +soup can, contained receiver, tape recorder, transmitter, batteries, and +command circuits that could be triggered from the ground. It was a +highly complex and beautifully engineered package for receiving data, +storing it, then retransmitting it.</p> + +<p>"But why?" Rick demanded. "Why send up a rockoon at all? What data does +it receive and transmit, and what do the people at the mansion do with +it?"</p> + +<p>"What Rick is asking," Scotty observed, "is the question that has +puzzled us since we got here. Why do the stingarees fly?"</p> + +<p>Steve waved a hand. "Patience for just a few more minutes. Anything +else, Cobb?"</p> + +<p>The electronics expert shook his head. "Not unless you have specific +questions. In summary, this is a very elegant little assembly of +receiver, data recorder, transmitter, and command circuits."</p> + +<p>"Fine. McDevitt, what about the rocket?"</p> + +<p>The man from Wallops Island shrugged. "Nothing very complex about it. +It's a simple solid-fuel rocket with star grain, fired by a squib that +is commanded from the ground. A squib is simply an igniter to start the +fuel burning. Battery power makes it glow red hot when turned on."</p> + +<p>"How high an altitude would the rocket reach?" Steve asked.</p> + +<p>"It's difficult to be precise, but I'd estimate the balloon carries it +to ten thousand feet, then it is fired by signal from the ground at the +proper time. The rocket would go to about one hundred thousand feet, +plus or minus twenty thousand. In other words, I'd guess its maximum +altitude at nearly twenty-three miles."</p> + +<p>"Did you say fired at the proper time, or proper altitude?" Rick asked +quickly. He wanted clarification of the point, although he was sure +McDevitt had said "time."</p> + +<p>"The altitude isn't important. I'd say time was the principal factor."</p> + +<p>"But if altitude isn't important, why use a rockoon? Why not use a +rocket launched directly from the ground?" Scotty demanded. He looked +puzzled.</p> + +<p>Rick looked at Steve expectantly. The young agent smiled. "Got the +answer, Rick?"</p> + +<p>"Maybe. It's a matter of secrecy, isn't it? The folks around here were +puzzled by the flying stingarees, but they would have been more puzzled +by rocket firing. They'd have been curious enough to want to know why +the rockets were being fired, and it's certain that an investigation +would have resulted. By using rockoons, with balloons that didn't look +like balloons, Camillion confused the issue. People who reported seeing +things got laughed at, mostly because they call any unidentified flying +object a flying saucer. The rockets fired only when high in the air, +where people wouldn't notice."</p> + +<p>"Two did," Scotty reminded him. "Remember? We had two interviews where +the people saw spurts of flame."</p> + +<p>"Sure," Rick agreed, "but they had no idea it was a rocket taking off +from a balloon. And only two out of the whole bunch even noticed flame +at all."</p> + +<p>Steve nodded. "You've hit it, Rick. It's the only answer that makes +sense."</p> + +<p>"Not until we know what data were collected by the rockoons," Rick said +stubbornly. "That's the whole key. Nothing will really make sense until +we know that."</p> + +<p>"We ran the dates and times of sightings through the computer with a lot +of other dates and times for various things," Steve explained. "I had a +hunch, but the computer turned it into good comparative data."</p> + +<p>"What data?" Scotty demanded.</p> + +<p>"Every single sighting you collected coincided with the launching of a +research rocket from Wallops Island!"</p> + +<p>The boys sat back, openmouthed. Rick said, "So that's why the glow from +Wallops Island in the south-eastern sky was so significant. That's what +put you on the trail!"</p> + +<p>"Right," Steve agreed. "The yellow glow is from sodium vapor rockets +fired from Wallops. The rockets allow visual measurement of +meteorological data. People around here are used to seeing them to the +southeast, over Wallops. When I saw that sightings had been made over +Swamp Creek at the time of sodium shots, I got an idea. It wasn't much +to go on, but it was at least a good clue. The computer did the rest."</p> + +<p>"Then Lefty Camillion and his friends have been intercepting data from +our rocket launchings at Wallops," Scotty said unbelievingly. "But why? +How could Lefty use data like that? It's all straight, unclassified +scientific and meteorological stuff. He's no scientist."</p> + +<p>Steve grinned. "I doubt that he even knows what the data are. He and his +friends are a bunch of chuckleheads of the very worst kind. But about +what he does with the data—Joe Vitalli has been doing some +investigating along that line."</p> + +<p>Vitalli nodded. "With the FBI. They put agents on the case and found out +Lefty had been in touch with the Soviet Embassy in Washington, through a +third secretary whose function it is to gather various kinds of +scientific intelligence. We're not absolutely certain, but it looks very +much as though Lefty plans to sell his data tapes to the Soviets."</p> + +<p>"So that's why JANIG has moved into the case," Scotty concluded.</p> + +<p>"On the nose," Steve agreed. "Now it's time to move in on our foolish +friends at Calvert's Favor. Do you boys want to take a hand?"</p> + +<p>"Try and leave us out," Rick said with a grin. "JANIG is welcome to +assist us, but the flying stingarees are our babies. Scotty's and mine, +that is."</p> + +<p>"Be glad to have you help," Scotty echoed.</p> + +<p>The JANIG men laughed. "You've got a point," Chuck Howard conceded.</p> + +<p>"Want to plan the operation?" Steve asked with a twinkle.</p> + +<p>Rick held up his hand. "Whoa! We didn't say that. You've got information +we don't have."</p> + +<p>"Only one piece of information," Steve replied. "The time of the next +launching from Wallops Island."</p> + +<p>"When?" Rick asked eagerly.</p> + +<p>"At dusk tonight."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> + +<h3>The Stingaree's Tail</h3> + + +<p>"This is the plan," Steve Ames said. "Joe and Chuck will approach from +upriver and go around the mansion fence by wading downstream. They'll +stay under cover somewhere at the edge of the mansion grounds until they +hear my signal on the radio to close in—or until they see the balloon +launched. I'll go in the way I did before."</p> + +<p>The two JANIG agents nodded, and bent over the chart borrowed from the +houseboat.</p> + +<p>"Cobb will set up his equipment here at my house," Steve continued, "and +try to intercept all signals from the mansion. McDevitt will set up here +too, and track the balloon through my telescope—if it rises—watching +until the rocket fires. McDevitt also will keep in touch with Wallops +Island by radio, and notify me on the walkie-talkie when the countdown +reaches thirty minutes."</p> + +<p>Steve turned to Rick and Scotty. "Before I go to my post, I'll take you +two to the creek mouth in the runabout. Then you will swim up the creek, +underwater, and take up stations in the weeds directly in front of the +house."</p> + +<p>Rick's pulse stopped. "They'll see our bubbles," he protested. "It would +give the whole show away!"</p> + +<p>Steve motioned to Joe Vitalli. "Show 'em."</p> + +<p>Joe walked to the car in which he and Chuck had driven from Washington, +and opened the trunk. He brought out a pair of riot guns, automatic +shotguns, which he handed to Chuck, then he reached into the trunk and +brought out a pair of small cylinders with full face masks attached.</p> + +<p>"Rebreathers!" Rick exclaimed. He grinned at Steve. "You planned this +before you ever told us what was on your mind!"</p> + +<p>"I thought it was best to be prepared," Steve said. "You know how these +work?"</p> + +<p>Rick nodded. "We both do." The rebreathers, unlike Scubas, which were +filled with compressed air, used oxygen which was recycled through a +canister of chemicals that removed water vapor and carbon dioxide. They +were completely self-contained; no bubbles were emitted.</p> + +<p>Cobb was already opening a pair of leather-covered cases, exposing +electronic gear. He had also brought a portable antenna, which he began +setting up. McDevitt had a radio in his car with which to talk to +Wallops, and Steve handed him one unit of a walkie-talkie radio network. +Another unit went to Chuck, and Steve retained one.</p> + +<p>Steve glanced at his watch. "Let's get going. Time your travel so you +will be in place at eight o'clock on the nose." He looked at the boys. +"Get into your gear, and take spear guns with you. When we move into +action, I want you to bring that balloon down if you can."</p> + +<p>The boys ran to the houseboat. Rick was excited, and he knew Scotty was +feeling the same way. It was the first time they had been in on a JANIG +operation as full partners. Their previous adventures had either been as +accidental participants or as observers.</p> + +<p>They got into full gear, including their skin-tight neoprene helmets and +footgear. Then, leaving their fins and rebreathers, they hurried back to +the others. Joe and Chuck were in their own car, the riot guns and +walkie-talkie out of sight. McDevitt had the telescope set up next to +his car and was practicing with it by tracking a high-flying osprey. +Cobb was finishing work on his electronic setup. His antenna was in +place, the dish on top of the collapsible pole aligned on the compass +direction to Calvert's Favor.</p> + +<p>Steve shook hands with Joe and Chuck. "On your way. See you when the +balloon goes up." He motioned to the boys. "Got spear guns?"</p> + +<p>"We left that till last," Rick said. "Ready to go?"</p> + +<p>"Ready."</p> + +<p>The three hurried down the pier to the houseboat, where the boys took +guns from their spear box. Each chose a high-powered gas gun, operated +by a carbon dioxide cartridge, and selected the spears that would cut +the biggest holes. There would be time for only one shot.</p> + +<p>"Get on the floor in the runabout when we cast off," Steve directed. "If +there are any watchers, I want them to see only one man."</p> + +<p>The boys cast off, then climbed in as Steve backed into the creek. They +crouched on the floor and adjusted the straps on their face masks until +the fit was tight. There was no conversation. Rick was so excited it was +hard to sit still. As they began the crossing of the Little Choptank +River, Steve gave them instructions. "When we get opposite the creek +mouth, the engine is going to stutter and kick up a lot of smoke. The +boat will drift into the smoke and out again. You'll have a few seconds +to go over. I'll pretend to work on the motor, and finally get it +started, but running rough. Then I'll take off and pretend I'm heading +home. Okay?"</p> + +<p>"How are you going to make smoke?" Rick asked.</p> + +<p>Steve reached into his breast pocket and produced a small bottle. "These +are chemicals that smoke when they touch water. Got your plans all +made?"</p> + +<p>Rick looked at Scotty. "We'll have to stick our heads up once in a +while. I'll lead, since I know the creek as far as the cove. When I +think I'm lost, I'll head for the north bank, making a sharp turn. That +will be your signal to stay put, while I look. What I'd like to do is +bring us out in back of the duck blind. We can pick our spots then and +cross the creek when we're ready."</p> + +<p>"Got it," Scotty agreed.</p> + +<p>Steve reached down a hand and squeezed their hands in turn. "Good luck, +kids. And no unnecessary chances. If shooting starts, get underwater +again. We'll have guns, but you'll have only single-shot spear guns."</p> + +<p>"Good luck," the boys said in unison. They put on the masks and turned +the valves that started the oxygen cycles. Rick grinned at Scotty +through the glass, and knew that his grin was strained. Scotty grinned +back and held up his hand with thumb and forefinger making the signal +for "Okay."</p> + +<p>"Be ready," Steve said.</p> + +<p>Rick checked himself once again to be sure all was in order. Weight +belt, knife, compass, spear gun with safety cap on, mask fitting +tightly, and the pack in place. He got ready to jump on Steve's command.</p> + +<p>The outboard slowed, raced, slowed, raced, back-fired, slowed. Steve's +hand went over and trailed chemical in the water. The boat turned, and +Rick saw the smoke cloud rising. The boat went into it, and the motor +cut out.</p> + +<p>"Go," Steve said.</p> + +<p>Rick stood upright and went over the gunwale in a dive, knifing toward +the bottom. He felt the pressure wave as Scotty followed and reached a +hand upward to meet his pal. His hand touched Scotty's arm, found the +hand, and gave it a squeeze. Then, with a glance at his compass to +orient him, Rick started the long swim.</p> + +<p>It was odd to be wearing the oxygen lung. The sound of bubbles from the +customary compressed-air Scubas was missing, and the silence was +strange. Then Steve started the motor of the runabout and Rick heard the +broken rhythm as the motor skipped. He knew that Steve probably had +turned the carburetor mixture to too lean or too rich. Either would +cause the motor to run rough. He kept moving, his fins keeping a steady +stroke. The motor sound grew distant, and finally faded entirely.</p> + +<p>Rick usually depended on pressure to tell him location, but the creek +was too shallow for any strong indication on his ears. He kept going +until the visibility and brightness told him he was in the shallows, +then steered out into the middle of the stream again.</p> + +<p>He thought they must be halfway to the mansion, but wasn't sure. He gave +a pair of swift kicks to alert Scotty, then turned sharp left, rolling +over on his back. He could see the water surface clearly. Rising a +little, he lifted his face above the water for a brief second, then went +back under.</p> + +<p>Now was the time to get behind the duck blind. Rick swam back to where +Scotty waited, and plucked at his shoulder. This time he started off +close to the north shore, heading directly for the duck blind. His +course was straight. In a few moments he found himself among the pilings +and turned to put the blind between himself and the mansion on the +opposite shore. Scotty followed.</p> + +<p>Rick lifted his head cautiously. He saw only the marsh grass and the +back of the blind. He tapped Scotty, who rose until his head was level +with Rick's, his face only a few inches away. They pulled off their +masks.</p> + +<p>"We can swim under the blind and look out the front," Rick whispered. +"There's enough brush to give us cover. We'll each pick our own spot and +go to it. Sound all right?"</p> + +<p>"Okay. Better fix our guns right here, though."</p> + +<p>It was good advice. Rick removed the safety cap from his spear, making +sure the barbed shaft was properly seated. Now he needed only to flick +off the safety catch and fire. Scotty did the same.</p> + +<p>"You go right and I'll go left," Scotty suggested softly. "Be better if +there's a little spread between us. We'll also want to find places where +we can look out. There's some weed along the shore, and I think I +remember a brush pile around a stake near the right-hand edge of the +lawn. One piling is there. There's a bunch of old pilings off to the +left where the original pier was. I can see if there's cover there. If +not, I'll find something."</p> + +<p>Scotty had worn his waterproof watch. It was just four minutes to eight. +Time to get going.</p> + +<p>The boys shook hands, grinned at each other, and pulled their masks back +on. They ducked under the blind, side by side, and swam to the front of +the structure where brush from last year's cover remained.</p> + +<p>Cautiously Rick peered out, then sucked in his breath. A truck had been +wheeled out of the barn. It had a dish antenna on top. And next to the +truck, a mass of black plastic was slowly inflating. A flying stingaree!</p> + +<p>Rick looked quickly for a spot to which he could swim. Near the edge of +the cut lawn was the piling Scotty had mentioned. It was tall, with a +light on it for night navigation. Rick realized he had seen it on +earlier trips, but had not noticed it particularly because his attention +had been on the house and its occupants. Slightly upstream from the tall +piling were a series of stakes, saplings pushed into the bottom to +indicate the limits of water deep enough for a boat. Around three of the +pilings brush and grass had gathered, picked up from the current. The +middle pile was highest. Rick decided to head for it.</p> + +<p>Scotty was also searching for a hiding place. Apparently he found one +that was satisfactory, because he gripped Rick's shoulder for a moment, +then submerged. Rick saw him as a shadow, hugging the bottom.</p> + +<p>Now was the time. Rick took a deep breath to quiet his taut and shaky +nerves, then sank to the bottom and began the last leg of the trip. It +was only a few dozen yards to the sapling he had chosen. He reached it +and glanced upward. The mass of debris made a black blotch on the bright +surface of the water. Moving with infinite caution and using the sapling +as a guide, he swung his legs under him and rose to a sitting position. +The debris was still above the level of his eyes, so he swung his legs +back again and knelt. The kneeling position brought his head to just the +right level. He lifted his face and looked at the debris. Working +cautiously, he brought a hand up and poked a hole through. His fingers +enlarged the hole until he could see sufficiently.</p> + +<p>The flying stingaree was tugging at the rope that held it! The shape was +almost perfect, Rick thought, but he doubted that it had been designed +to look like a sting ray. More likely it had been picked to look as +little like a conventional balloon as possible. Well, it had served its +purpose.</p> + +<p>Merlin, alias Lefty Camillion, and his electronics wizard were fitting a +rocket into a loop on a plastic strap that dangled from the balloon. +Rick couldn't see it clearly, but thought it was a replica of the one he +had recovered.</p> + +<p>There was sound from the truck containing the dish antenna. Rick pulled +his mask away to hear a little better and heard a loudspeaker, +rebroadcasting something.</p> + +<p>"... reports no aircraft within range limits. We are now at thirty-one +minutes and counting. On my mark the time will be zero minus thirty +exactly."</p> + +<p>There was only the crackle of the loudspeaker. The set was tuned in on +the Wallops Island command frequency, Rick realized. That was how +Camillion and company knew when to release the balloon, and when to +trigger the rocket!</p> + +<p>Camillion's bodyguard was manning the rope holding the balloon. It was +attached to a ring on the truck. As Rick watched, the bodyguard let out +more line and the balloon rose slightly, tugging at the rope, and moving +toward Rick. The tail hung down almost to the ground, the rocket hanging +at an angle at its end.</p> + +<p>The loudspeaker voice said, "Stand by. Mark! Zero minus thirty."</p> + +<p>The bodyguard reached up and cut the rope!</p> + +<p>Rick saw the flying stingaree heading directly toward him, rising +slowly, caught by the ground wind. He brought his spear gun into +position and rose to his full height, snapping off the safety catch. +Oblivious to the yells from the lawn, he aimed and fired. With a sharp +hiss, the spear flashed through the air—into the balloon and right +through it!</p> + +<p>The balloon didn't even falter. It would take time to lose sufficient +gas to bring it down. The wind swept it right toward Rick, still rising. +As it passed over him, the dangling rocket would be almost within reach.</p> + +<p>Rick didn't hesitate. He saw the track of the balloon curving, as the +wind shifted direction downstream over the water. He threw himself to +one side and forward, dropping the spear gun, one hand outstretched. The +rocket slapped into his palm and his fingers closed around it. The jerk +pulled him forward and he grabbed with his other hand, missed, and +grabbed again. This time he caught the rocket, and both hands gripped +tight.</p> + +<p>The flying stingaree lifted him, dragging him through the water. Rick +spun around at the end of the line, and caught a glimpse of the +bodyguard raising a pistol to shoot at him! Then the scene whirled and +he saw Scotty, standing in water to his waist, spear gun lifted to fire.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<a name="illus4" id="illus4"></a> +<img src="images/illus4.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<h3><i>The flying stingaree lifted him!</i></h3> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Rick saw the spear leave his pal's gun, and he whirled his head in time +to see the bodyguard looking down with horror at the shaft protruding +from his side.</p> + +<p>The boy didn't see the piling. His last quick impression was of the +bodyguard falling forward, then there was a stunning impact as the side +of his head met creosoted wood and darkness flooded in.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX</h2> + +<h3>Lucky Lefty</h3> + + +<p>Rick awoke to fiery agony. His face was burning, the flames searing his +flesh. He tried to reach a hand up to ease the pain and found the hand +gripped firmly. He struggled, and Steve's voice said, "Take it easy, +Rick. We'll be through in a minute."</p> + +<p>The boy subsided and gritted his teeth. If Steve was there, it was okay. +But why didn't Steve put out the fire?</p> + +<p>"Don't move," Steve said sharply. "I don't want to hurt you any more +than I can help."</p> + +<p>Rick closed his eyes and fought the pain. He heard Steve say, "Give me +the spray can." Then something cool and soothing spread over his face.</p> + +<p>An arm circled his shoulder and raised him to a sitting position. He +opened his eyes and looked into Scotty's worried face. Rick managed a +grin. "It's okay," he said hoarsely.</p> + +<p>"If being alive is okay, then it's okay," Scotty said with relief. "But +you're a mess, boy."</p> + +<p>Rick looked up dazedly. Steve was smiling at him, and next to Steve, +Orvil Harris! "Glad you're all right," the boy murmured.</p> + +<p>"Thanks, Rick. I'm glad you finally came around. You had us worried for +a bit. And, Rick, meet my cousin Link."</p> + +<p>A tall, gaunt man stepped forward. "Howdy, Rick? How do you feel?"</p> + +<p>"Woozy," Rick said honestly. "Help me up, somebody."</p> + +<p>Scotty lifted him, then guided him to a lawn chair. "Sit down. You're +too weak to stand."</p> + +<p>Rick subsided gratefully. He could see better now, although it was +nearly dark. There were other people seated in chairs on the Calvert's +Favor lawn. Camillion, his electronics expert, and two others. At full +length, covered by a blanket, was the guard. He looked up at Rick, his +eyes dull and malevolent, but he said nothing.</p> + +<p>"What happened?" Rick asked.</p> + +<p>Joe Vitalli stood behind Camillion and company, his riot gun ready. The +JANIG agent was wet up to his armpits. Chuck Howard came into sight from +behind Rick, and he carried an open first-aid kit.</p> + +<p>"You jumped for the balloon," Steve reminded him. He motioned to the +bodyguard. "This one tried a pot-shot at you and Scotty nailed him with +a spear. Then you smashed into the piling and got knocked out. The +piling was rough. Your mask was ripped off and your face dragged along +the wood just enough to take the skin off and leave you full of +splinters. We were taking the biggest splinters out when you came to. +How does your face feel?"</p> + +<p>"Awful," Rick said. The soothing effect of the antiseptic spray was +wearing off and the pain was returning. "Where's the balloon?"</p> + +<p>"On the ground behind you. Scotty got to you first, and with his weight +on it, the thing finally came down." The young agent grinned admiringly. +"We had to pry your hands off the rocket. Never saw such a stubborn cuss +in my life. Out cold, and still holding on."</p> + +<p>"Persistent," Rick said weakly. "Not stubborn. Did you round up the +whole gang?"</p> + +<p>"The whole lot."</p> + +<p>Lefty Camillion glared at Rick from a chair on the other side of the +small circle.</p> + +<p>"Why did you do it?" Rick asked. "What did you hope to gain?"</p> + +<p>The syndicate chief shrugged, but kept his silence.</p> + +<p>"I can shed a little light," Steve said. "Some of it is speculation, but +it stands up. Lefty knew his appeal against the deportation order was +almost certain to be turned down. Within a few weeks he'd be on his way +out of the country. The FBI has been trying to get the full dope on +Lefty, and one thing they found was that expensive living had taken most +of his money. He needed cash, in other words. This was the way he chose +to get it, collecting the data transmitted by the research rockets from +Wallops and selling it."</p> + +<p>Rick shook his head, then winced. "It's a crazy idea," he said. "I don't +know why. I just know it is. I could tell you, but I can't seem to +think."</p> + +<p>There were sirens far away, but getting closer. Scotty put a hand on +Rick's shoulder. "Don't try to think now, old buddy. The ambulance is +coming. Plenty of time to talk when you're feeling better."</p> + +<p>Rick nodded weakly. It was getting very dark. He closed his eyes and +leaned back. Scotty kept a hand on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>The ambulance, led by a state trooper, pulled into the grounds. An +attendant and an intern jumped out. "Who's hurt?" the intern asked.</p> + +<p>"This one first," Steve said. "Then the one on the ground."</p> + +<p>Rick felt a hand grip his chin and opened his eyes. The intern was +examining his face with a strong flashlight beam.</p> + +<p>"Messy but superficial," the intern said calmly. "I'll bet it hurts."</p> + +<p>"You win," Rick muttered.</p> + +<p>"How did it happen?"</p> + +<p>Steve described Rick's accident briefly. The intern nodded. He shined +the light into Rick's eyes and watched the pupils contract. "Possible +concussion. We'll check at the hospital." He knelt and took a roll of +cloth from his bag and unwrapped it to disclose hypodermic needles in a +sterile inner wrapper. He fitted a needle to a syringe and found a +bottle of alcohol and a vial of sedative. Working swiftly, he wiped the +vial top and Rick's arm with alcohol, then drew fluid into the syringe. +"This will help the pain," he said, and pressed the needle into Rick's +arm.</p> + +<p>"Now," the doctor said briskly, "let's look at the next one. What +happened to him?"</p> + +<p>"Fish spear in the side," Steve replied.</p> + +<p>Scotty and the attendant helped Rick to the ambulance. He lay down on +the stretcher gratefully and closed his eyes. Scotty stayed with him +while the attendant went to help with the bodyguard.</p> + +<p>"Quite a party," Rick said faintly.</p> + +<p>Scotty covered him with a blanket. "You missed most of it, but I'll give +you the details tomorrow. How are you feeling?"</p> + +<p>"Groggy." Rick's eyes were closed. He was never sure at what point he +drifted off into deep slumber. He knew only that he had no recollection +of the bodyguard being placed next to him or of the ambulance leaving +Calvert's Favor.</p> + +<p>Rick awoke to bright daylight. The pain in his face had subsided to a +faintly aching stiffness and he felt fine. He knew from the surroundings +that he must be in a hospital, probably at Cambridge. He groped for the +call bell and found it wound around the bedpost. He pushed it. In a few +moments a nurse came in.</p> + +<p>"Well," she greeted him, "how are you this morning?"</p> + +<p>"Hungry," Rick replied promptly.</p> + +<p>The nurse, a pleasant-faced woman of middle age, smiled. "That's a good +sign. Let's see what we can do. Ready for visitors?"</p> + +<p>"Send them in," Rick said cheerfully. "Or is it just one?"</p> + +<p>"Two." The nurse went to the door and beckoned. "I'll send in some +breakfast," she said, and left.</p> + +<p>Rick's hand touched his head gingerly. The right side of his face was +bandaged, the pad held in place by tape that crossed his forehead and +circled down under his chin. He probed gently and discovered that the +sorest places were his temple and an area just in front of his ear.</p> + +<p>Steve Ames and Scotty came in and greeted him with wide smiles. "The +nurse says you're hungry," Steve said. "Sounds like the old Rick."</p> + +<p>Scotty asked, "How about crab cakes for breakfast?"</p> + +<p>"Bring 'em on, followed by a dozen steamed clams and an order of +fritters," Rick replied. "How's the bodyguard?"</p> + +<p>"Well enough so his disposition is pretty nasty," Steve reported. "He'll +be here for at least a week before the jail cell opens wide. Seriously, +Rick, are you all right? Apparently there was no concussion."</p> + +<p>"I'm fine," Rick assured him. "But I'll bet this bandage makes me look +like a survivor of Custer's Last Stand."</p> + +<p>Steve and Scotty drew chairs up to the bed. "One last look by the doctor +and we'll take you home," Steve told him. "If you feel up to it."</p> + +<p>"What'll I do for clothes?" Rick asked.</p> + +<p>"They're in your closet," Scotty replied. "We brought them with us. Last +night we took your gear home after the hospital folks peeled you out of +it."</p> + +<p>"Good." Rick looked at his two friends. "Now suppose you tell me what +happened last night? I must have been out like a light while the +excitement was running high."</p> + +<p>Scotty nodded. "I'll start. I was behind one of the pier piles when the +bodyguard cut the balloon loose. I jumped out for a clear shot, but by +then you had put your spear through the thing. I was going to add mine +for good luck when I saw the bodyguard reach for the old equalizer and +draw a bead on you, so I shifted targets. I looked back at you just in +time to see you dangling from the stingaree like an extra tail. And +right then you went boom into the piling. But would Brant ever let go of +evidence? Not you, ol' buddy. There you dangled, limp as a wilted banana +while the balloon drifted along with you. I started toward you as fast +as I could go, which wasn't very fast with water up to my waist."</p> + +<p>"Wish I could have seen it," Rick said with a grin.</p> + +<p>"So do I," Scotty assured him. "Camillion and his friends were also +somewhat interested in you. They started down the lawn, and I was sure +they'd get to you before I could. Only then Joe and Chuck stepped out of +the bushes not ten yards from where I'd been hiding, and yelled to the +lads to hold fast and get their hands high. Steve stepped around the +corner of the barn with a .45 in his mitt and emphasized the point. +Lefty and company got the idea and skidded to a stop with all brakes +locked. I put on more speed, and Steve joined the chase."</p> + +<p>"I didn't see you hit the piling." Steve picked up the story. "But I +heard it. When I saw that the boys had things under control with their +shotguns, I stepped on it and got to you a few seconds after Scotty had +grabbed you by the waist. When I saw your face, I had a few bad moments +until I could take a closer look. You were a bloody mess, to put it +mildly, with more than a few splinters adding color. But I could see +your manly beauty wasn't gone forever. We pried you loose from the +rocket and stretched you out on the lawn. Your pulse was pretty good and +you were breathing steadily, so we gave you a few whiffs of oxygen from +Scotty's tank for good luck."</p> + +<p>Rick could appreciate how worried his friends must have been in spite of +their half-humorous report.</p> + +<p>"Lefty spoke up," Steve continued. "It was the only time he spoke. He's +said nothing since. He said, 'There's a first-aid kit in the kitchen.' +We got it, and went to work on you. Of course we put in a call to the +police, and asked for an ambulance. Joe Vitalli kept a watch on the +crowd and Chuck went into the barn while we pulled splinters out of you. +He found Orvil, and he also found Lincoln Harris."</p> + +<p>"I remember meeting him," Rick nodded. "I was too groggy to be +surprised."</p> + +<p>"He was okay. They hadn't mistreated him. Link said he had gone up the +creek just in time to see them launch a balloon with a rocket on it, and +they got the drop on him with rifles, then grabbed him. His curiosity +got the better of him. He'd heard about the people at Calvert's Favor +and decided to take a look, the waterways being free to all navigators. +Orvil had a bump on his head, but otherwise was all right. Lefty hasn't +talked, but I suspect he had plans for their release, once he was safely +out of the country."</p> + +<p>"Where is Lefty?" Rick asked.</p> + +<p>"He and his friends are in the local jail. You know, Lefty is a chump. +But he's also an excellent example of what happens to people when they +start operating in unfamiliar fields."</p> + +<p>"Why is he a chump?" Rick demanded.</p> + +<p>"Because every bit of data he went to so much trouble to collect was his +for the asking, if he'd only waited until it was processed."</p> + +<p>The light dawned. Rick knew at once what Steve meant. "That's what was +trying to get to the surface in this addled brain of mine last night. Of +course! Wallops Island is an unclassified launch site. Everything about +the launchings is reported in scientific publications! But, Steve, the +Soviet Embassy was interested in buying the stuff!"</p> + +<p>Steve chuckled. "Sure, but not for a very high price, I suspect. The +Reds are so suspicious they can't believe that a country like the United +States can afford to give away data. They'd buy the tapes just to make +sure we weren't holding back information they could use."</p> + +<p>"Even a casual investigation would have told Lefty the data from Wallops +firings is published by scientific publications," Scotty pointed out. +"How could he have been so stupid?"</p> + +<p>"He fell into a natural trap," Steve answered. "Most people think there +is military secrecy connected with rocket firings. They don't make a +distinction between the civilian space agency and the military services. +But the law does. It says the National Aeronautics and Space +Administration is required to report on its scientific findings."</p> + +<p>"And it does," Rick concluded. "Dad has already written a report on the +instruments for measuring solar X rays. The scientists who actually use +the instruments will also write a report on the data they obtained."</p> + +<p>"That's it," Steve agreed. "What's a little more puzzling is why the +electronics expert didn't know. I suspect he has been concerned only +with the design of telemetry equipment and not with any actual +launchings or space experiments."</p> + +<p>"Maybe he did know," Scotty offered. "He might have kept quiet just to +get money from Lefty for doing the work on intercepting the data. You +know we had the clues, but it never occurred to us there might be a +connection between Wallops Island and the stingarees, because who could +imagine going to all that trouble to intercept open, unclassified data +you can get by asking for it?"</p> + +<p>Rick had to laugh. "Whether he knew or not, it's still a joke on Lefty, +and on us for not suspecting the connection. And poor Lefty won't have a +nest egg to take back to Europe with him."</p> + +<p>"He won't need a nest egg," Steve corrected. "Lefty violated the law by +kidnaping Link and Orvil. I don't know whether we can make a federal +espionage rap stick or not, since the data he was collecting was +unclassified. But we'll try. Anyway, he won't be going back to Europe. +He'll end up in a Maryland prison, or a Federal one. Either way, it'll +be some years before he has to worry about money."</p> + +<p>"Lucky Lefty," Rick said. "A cell of his own, plenty of food, and no +worries about money. We did him a favor."</p> + +<p>Steve grinned. "Just don't expect any gratitude for a favor like that!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX</h2> + +<h3>Hunt the Wide Waters</h3> + + +<p>The cruising houseboat <i>Spindrift</i> moved sedately across Eastern Bay, +off the main Chesapeake Bay, toward the town of Claiborne. It was a +lovely day with a blue sky dotted with occasional fair-weather clouds. +The temperature was in the low eighties, the wind gentle, and the water +warm.</p> + +<p>Rick Brant sat on the bow of the houseboat, with his feet dangling over. +Next to him sat Jan Miller. His sister Barby, with their mother and +father, were relaxing in deck chairs on the sun deck, while Scotty +piloted the boat.</p> + +<p>Now and then the bow dipped, and the spray splashed up in a cooling +shower. Rick enjoyed the feeling of the cool spray, and the taste of +salt on his tongue. Jan did, too. Rick thought she made quite a picture +with her white bathing suit and golden tan contrasting with her dark +hair. His one regret was that he couldn't swim with Jan, Scotty, and the +family. Both Jan and Barby were expert Scuba divers, and he had looked +forward to spearfishing with them in the bay. The girls had brought +their own Scuba equipment in the luggage compartment of Hartson Brant's +car.</p> + +<p>Rick's bandages had been reduced to a single jumbo-size gauze patch, but +his folks would not allow him to go swimming until his face was entirely +healed. He knew they were right, though he chafed under the restriction. +Even so, swimming was really only a small part of the fun of +houseboating, and the ban on swimming wouldn't last long.</p> + +<p>Jan had put on a fresh bandage for him after breakfast that morning, and +remarked in her soft voice, "It will be completely healed in another day +or two, Rick. You can go swimming then."</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, he had found an acceptable substitute. Steve Ames was a +subscriber to <i>Bowhunting Magazine</i>, and in a back issue Rick had found +an article on fishing for sting rays with bow and arrow. Steve had +loaned a bow, and Rick had invested in fishing arrows and a reel for the +bow. So far, he had found only one sting ray, and in his excitement he +had failed to take into account the refraction of the water. He aimed +where the ray seemed to be—but wasn't.</p> + +<p>Rick's pretty, blond sister called down to him. "Rick! There's a sand +bar at the tip of that point."</p> + +<p>He looked to where Barby was pointing and saw a good-sized sand bar +extending out under the water. "I see it, Sis. Thanks. It will be a +while before we get there."</p> + +<p>Jan smiled at him. "Going to try again?"</p> + +<p>"You bet I am. Got to catch up with you somehow."</p> + +<p>Jan had bagged a ten-pound rockfish underwater on the day before, and +they had baked it in a driftwood fire on a beach at Poplar Island. Rick +was as proud as though the catch had been his own. He had been Jan's +diving instructor and had taught her how to stalk a fish.</p> + +<p>"You can catch up day after tomorrow when the folks will let you dive," +Jan assured him.</p> + +<p>"Can't wait that long," Rick replied. "I'm going to find a fifty-pound +ray right now."</p> + +<p>"Go get your bow," Jan said. "I'll join the others and we'll all spot +for you."</p> + +<p>Rick got to his feet and gave Jan a hand up. He went down the catwalk to +the cabin while she went up the ladder to the top deck.</p> + +<p>The bow was in the closet. Rick checked the string, then strung the bow +and selected two arrows. He went out on deck and stopped at Scotty's +side. "Looks like a good place. Cruise slow and easy and be ready to +maneuver. If there's a ray there, I want it."</p> + +<p>"Okay. Go for broke, Robin Hood. What I can't understand is why you +don't shoot for something edible."</p> + +<p>"Can't," Rick said cheerfully. "Edible-type fish don't hang around +waiting for boats to bring bowmen close."</p> + +<p>He climbed the rear ladder to the upper deck and joined his family. +Hartson Brant smiled at his son. "Next time we let you go off by +yourself don't get involved in mysteries. Then you won't have to bowhunt +inedible sea animals."</p> + +<p>"It's fun," Rick returned. "I'd want to do it even if I could spear +fish. Want to take a shot?"</p> + +<p>"I'll take a shot after you've boated your first ray."</p> + +<p>"Fair enough," Rick agreed.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Brant asked, "Where are we going, Rick?"</p> + +<p>He pointed to the peninsula. "Around that land. There's a creek on the +other side called Tilghman Creek. The cruising guide says there's a good +anchorage just inside. If it looks all right, well spend the night +there. If not, we'll go across to the Wye River. Tomorrow we'll go down +the Miles River to the town of St. Michaels and put in supplies."</p> + +<p>The scientist smiled at his wife. "It's nice to relax and have our +children do the work and the thinking, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"It's too good to last," Mrs. Brant returned.</p> + +<p>Barby and Jan were standing far forward, close to where the cabin top +curved downward to the forward deck. Rick joined them.</p> + +<p>"This is fun!" Barby exclaimed. "Rick this houseboat was the best idea +you ever had!"</p> + +<p>"We all should have traveled down together," Jan said. "Then the whole +family could have been in on the case of the flying stingaree."</p> + +<p>"That will be the day," Barby replied. "When Rick Brant lets us in on +any real adventures, I'll know the world is coming to an end." Her tone +changed suddenly. "Look, we're getting into shallow water. Keep a sharp +lookout!"</p> + +<p>Rick went down the ladder to the foredeck and tied his arrowhead to the +fish line wound in the reel on his bow. He nocked the arrow and got +ready to shoot. He looked up at the two pretty girls standing above him. +"Let out a yell if you see a dark blot."</p> + +<p>Barby gave him a scornful look. "Of course we'll yell. Did you think we +were standing here waiting for flying saucers to land?"</p> + +<p>The houseboat plowed through a patch of sea grass and emerged over sandy +bottom. Rick kept careful watch, but he knew the girls would see the +first sign of a ray before he did, because of their higher vantage +point.</p> + +<p>Steve would enjoy this, he thought. The JANIG agent was back in +Washington, his vacation interrupted again because of the work that +remained on the case of Lefty Camillion. Lefty was in jail, too, along +with his friends.</p> + +<p>Rick shook his head. He was still amazed at the mobster's stupidity in +creating such an elaborate setup to get data that was his for the +asking. Apparently it just hadn't occurred to Lefty that a rocket range +could be without secrets.</p> + +<p>If there <i>had</i> been secrets, though, the system was a good one. By using +the combination of a balloon and a rocket, Lefty got his equipment high +enough to intercept Wallops Island telemetry, and he did it without +anyone suspecting he was launching rockets. The rockets and balloons +dropped into the ocean, unseen—or, if seen, the first thought would be +that they had come from Wallops. The shape of the balloons also kept +anyone from suspecting that the theft of data was the real purpose. It +was a fine scheme, even though it had all been unnecessary.</p> + +<p>The girls let out a yell that startled Rick from his reverie. Scotty +immediately throttled back, and the boat's momentum carried it forward. +Rick watched the water, and finally saw a dark blur on the sandy bottom +ahead and to the left. He drew, then waited until he saw the dark patch +move. This time he allowed for the water's refraction. He loosed the +arrow.</p> + +<p>The stingaree felt the impact and reacted violently. Its tail lashed up +to strike with sharp barbs at the intruder. The tail lashed the arrow +shaft without effect. The ray's wings moved in a rippling motion like +that of some weird flying carpet. It flashed upward, and into the air, +then crashed back on the surface of the water again. It dived, heading +for the bottom.</p> + +<p>Rick kept the drag on his reel, letting the ray fight against the +braking action. The fish didn't give up easily. It had the primitive +nervous system and great vitality of its relatives, the sharks, and it +fought long after an edible fish, like a rockfish, would have given up.</p> + +<p>When the ray moved toward the now stationary boat, Rick reeled in line. +When the ray showed a new burst of energy and started away, Rick let it +fight against the drag, pulling out line.</p> + +<p>The girls were down on the foredeck with him now, and Scotty had joined +the Brants on the upper deck in order to get a better view of the fight.</p> + +<p>Finally, the ray tired. Rick drew it in close to the hull and waited +while the vicious tail lashed futilely. Jan took the gaff that Scotty +handed down to her and gave it to Rick. He hooked the sea beast and +lifted it from the water.</p> + +<p>"Stand clear!" he warned. "I don't want either of you getting hit with +that tail!"</p> + +<p>The girls hurried up the ladder to safety, and Rick lifted the stingaree +to the deck.</p> + +<p>It was a small one, weighing about fifteen pounds. The wet, leathery +body glistened, and the kite-shaped wings flapped like those of some +fantastic bird.</p> + +<p>Scotty looked down at the ray. "You caught a cripple," he said. "There's +something wrong with it."</p> + +<p>Rick looked up. He knew the answer, but he asked the question anyway, +grinning. "Yes? What's wrong with it?"</p> + +<p>"It can't fly," Scotty said.</p> + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> + +<h2><a name="RICK_BRANT_SCIENCE_STORIES" id="RICK_BRANT_SCIENCE_STORIES"></a>RICK BRANT SCIENCE STORIES</h2> + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/illus1.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + + + +<p>Rick Brant is the boy who with his pal Scotty lives on an island called +Spindrift and takes part in so many thrilling adventures and baffling +mysteries involving science and electronics. You can share every one of +these adventures in the pages of Rick's books. They are available at +your book store in handsome, low-priced editions.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">THE ROCKET'S SHADOW<br /></span> +<span class="i0">THE LOST CITY<br /></span> +<span class="i0">SEA GOLD<br /></span> +<span class="i0">100 FATHOMS UNDER<br /></span> +<span class="i0">THE WHISPERING BOX MYSTERY<br /></span> +<span class="i0">THE PHANTOM SHARK<br /></span> +<span class="i0">SMUGGLERS' REEF<br /></span> +<span class="i0">THE CAVES OF FEAR<br /></span> +<span class="i0">STAIRWAY TO DANGER<br /></span> +<span class="i0">THE GOLDEN SKULL<br /></span> +<span class="i0">THE WAILING OCTOPUS<br /></span> +<span class="i0">THE ELECTRONIC MIND READER<br /></span> +<span class="i0">THE SCARLET LAKE MYSTERY<br /></span> +<span class="i0">THE PIRATES OF SHAN<br /></span> +<span class="i0">THE BLUE GHOST MYSTERY<br /></span> +<span class="i0">THE EGYPTIAN CAT MYSTERY<br /></span> +<span class="i0">THE FLAMING MOUNTAIN<br /></span> +<span class="i0">THE FLYING STINGAREE<br /></span> +<span class="i0">THE RUBY RAY MYSTERY<br /></span> +<span class="i0">THE VEILED RAIDERS<br /></span> +<span class="i0">RICK BRANT'S SCIENCE PROJECTS<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Flying Stingaree, by Harold Leland Goodwin + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FLYING STINGAREE *** + +***** This file should be named 30401-h.htm or 30401-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/4/0/30401/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Flying Stingaree + +Author: Harold Leland Goodwin + +Release Date: November 3, 2009 [EBook #30401] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FLYING STINGAREE *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + THE FLYING STINGAREE + + BY JOHN BLAINE + + A RICK BRANT SCIENCE-ADVENTURE STORY + + + +GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS +NEW 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 evidence +that 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 is +the eerie riddle which confronts Rick Brant and his friend Don Scott +when, seeking shelter from a storm, they anchor the houseboat +_Spindrift_ in a lonely cove along the Maryland shore and spot the +flying stingaree. + +The "thing," they learn, is not the only one of its kind--one is +actually suspected of having kidnaped a man! + +The residents of the Eastern Shore of Maryland believe the strange +objects are flying saucers, but, weary of ridicule, have ceased +reporting the sightings. + +Rick and Scotty, their scientific curiosity aroused, begin a +comprehensive investigation, encouraged by their friend Steve Ames, a +young government intelligence agent, whose summer cottage is near the +cove. + +As the clues mount up, the trail leads to Calvert's Favor, a historic +plantation house--and to the very bottom of Chesapeake Bay. How Rick and +Scotty, at the risk of their lives, ground the eerie menace forever +makes a tale of high-voltage suspense. + + + + +[Illustration: _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 was +food, but his position--had he known it--was in the channel that runs +between Poplar Island and the town of Wittman on the Eastern Shore of +Maryland. The ray was also directly in the path of an odd-looking +cruising houseboat, the _Spindrift_, that had just rounded the north +point of Poplar Island and entered the channel. + +The sting ray's color was an olive brown, so dark in tone that he looked +like wet black leather. He was roughly diamond-shaped, like a kite, with +rounded sides. He had a long, slim tail that carried vicious barbs along +the base of its upper side. It was from the barbs, which served as +defensive weapons, that the name sting ray, or stingaree, derived. The +ray was harmless to men--unless one chanced to step on him as he lay +resting 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 gleaming +surface, his churning legs making a slight disturbance. The ray sensed +the small vibrations and instantly changed course, speeding through the +water like a fantastic spaceship of the future. Intent on the crab, the +ray ignored the stronger vibrations caused by a pair of outboard motors +and a long, flat-bottomed hull. Not until the crab was within reach did +the ray sense imminent danger. With a single flashing movement, he +snatched the crab and flung himself upward through the shining surface +and into the air. + +Rick Brant, at the helm of the cruising houseboat, saw the ray break +water and he let out a yell. "Scotty! Look!" + +Don Scott, asleep at full length on the houseboat's sun deck, which was +also its cabin top, awoke in time to see the dark shape reenter the calm +water. "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 eastern +land and water birds, regional fish and reptiles, rested on the cabin +top before him, along with a pair of binoculars. He had used them all +repeatedly, identifying eagles, wild swans, ospreys, wild duck and +geese, terrapin, snapping turtles and water snakes, as well as a horde +of lesser creatures. Trailing lines over the houseboat stern had +captured striped sea bass, called "rockfish" locally, a species of +drumfish called "spot" because of a black spot on the gills, pink +croakers that the Marylanders called "hardheads," and the blue crabs for +which the bay is famous. He had seen clam dredges bringing up bushels of +soft-shelled, long-necked clams that the dredgers called "manos," and he +had seen the famous Maryland "bugeyes" and "skip-jacks"--sailing craft +used for dredging oysters. The boats were not operated during the oyster +breeding season from the end of March until September. + +Rick's interest in the life of the great bay was to be expected. As son +of the director of the world-famous Spindrift Scientific Foundation, +located on Spindrift Island off the coast of New Jersey, he had been +brought up among scientists. The habit of observation had developed +along with his natural--and insatiable--curiosity. + +The tall, slim, brown-haired, brown-eyed boy was completely happy. He +enjoyed casual living, especially on the water, and life on the +_Spindrift_ couldn't have been more casual. He was dressed in a tattered +pair of shorts and a wristwatch. Once, in the cool of the evening, he +had slipped on a sweat shirt. Otherwise, the shorts had been his sole +attire while on board since leaving his home island a few days before. + +Scotty, a husky, dark-haired boy clad only in red swimming trunks, came +down 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 we +are? Last thing I remember, we were passing under the Bay Bridge off +Annapolis." + +"That's Bloody Point Lighthouse behind us," Rick said. "Poplar Island is +on the starboard and the Eastern Shore to port. That black thing +sticking up ahead of us is a light buoy. When we reach it, we should be +able to see the range markers into Knapps Narrows." + +Scotty checked the chart on the table hinged to the bulkhead formed by +the rear cabin wall. "What time is it?" + +Rick glanced at his watch. "Five after six. Time for chow. Want to +rustle up something? Or shall we eat at Knapps Narrows? The cruising +guide says there's a restaurant there." + +"Let's eat out," Scotty replied promptly. "I'm sick of my cooking--and +yours. I'd like some Maryland crab cakes like those we had in Chesapeake +City." + +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 before +reaching Steve's. I don't want to tackle these Chesapeake backwaters at +night." + +The destination of the houseboat was the summer cottage of Rick's old +friend, Steve Ames, who was also a chief agent of JANIG, the top-secret +Federal 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 ownership +of the houseboat, which had been named for Rick's home island on the +grounds that it was now his "home away from home." + +Rick's first glimpse of the houseboat had been from the air. At the +request of Steve Ames, he, Scotty, his sister Barby, and Jan Miller, +daughter of one of the Spindrift physicists, had been searching the +coast of New Jersey for signs of strangers in the area. Barby had +spotted the houseboat, which at that time was painted a bright orange. +Later, the houseboat had played a major role in the adventure of _The +Electronic Mind Reader_, and Rick had fought for his life and the safety +of the two girls in the very cabin behind which he now stood. The +houseboat had been impounded by Federal authorities, and recently Steve +had mentioned to Rick that it was to be auctioned. After consulting with +his family, Rick had entered a bid for the boat. His bid had been the +only 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 his +own money, and the houseboat was no exception. Like his first plane, the +Cub, he expected the houseboat to pay its own way. Rick had recovered +his investment in the Cub by using it to operate Spindrift Island's +ferry service to the mainland. Rick flew the scientists to Newark +Airport when they had to catch planes, or he flew to Whiteside for +groceries, or into New York to pick up parts and supplies. The houseboat +could not be used in the same way, but he was sure he could get its +price back by renting it to summer visitors to the New Jersey area. He +had repainted it in two shades of green with a white top, and had made a +few other improvements. + +Before renting the boat, however, he intended to have an extended +houseboat vacation. He and Scotty had left Spindrift Island, headed +south into Manasquan Inlet, and then sailed into the inland waterway. By +easy stages--the houseboat could make only ten miles an hour--they had +moved 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's +summer cottage. + +Rick's parents, with Barby and Jan, were now on their way to Wallops +Island rocket range operated by the National Aeronautics and Space +Administration. Hartson Brant had business there in connection with +instruments the Spindrift group of scientists had designed for measuring +solar X rays. The instruments would be launched in rockets. Wallops +Island was near Chincoteague, Virginia, just across the +Maryland-Virginia border on the long peninsula called "The Eastern +Shore" 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 to +Steve's, where the Brants and the two girls would join Rick and Scotty +for 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 the +galley, dinette, and bath were located. Steve had agreed to drive the +Brant car to Spindrift on his next trip to New York. The houseboat, with +the full clan aboard, would travel leisurely back to the home island. + +Rick was delighted with the arrangements. The Brants--and that included +Scotty, who had become one of them after his discharge from the United +States Marine Corps--were a close-knit family whose members enjoyed +doing things together. Rick considered Jan Miller, Barby's dearest +friend, a welcome addition to the party. + +"Range light ahead," Scotty said. + +Rick nodded. The light was set atop a black piling. The color meant he +would have to pass it to port, then pick up the red beacon at the +entrance to the Narrows, passing the red beacon to starboard. This was +in accordance with the old sailors' rule: _red right returning_, which +means keep red markers and buoys on the starboard, or right, when +returning from seaward. It was fun navigating in strange waters. He had +never 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, rounded +like the front of a toboggan, slapped into a slight swell. Rick passed +the range light and headed for the red tower that marked the opening of +the Narrows. In a few moments they were in the Narrows, passing lines of +docked crab, oyster, and clam boats. There was a bridge ahead, with a +gasoline dock in its shadow. Rick gauged wind and current and decided +how 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 us +facing 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 nose +of the houseboat against the seawall as Scotty stepped ashore carrying +the bowline. He snubbed it tightly around a piling and held fast while +the ungainly boat swung with the current. Rick stepped to the seawall +with the stern line as the craft swung completely around, and the boys +made the boat fast. + +"Now," Scotty said, "let's gas up and eat." + +After filling the gas tanks, loading the icebox with fresh ice, and +topping off the water tank, the boys slipped into shirts, slacks, and +shoes, then headed for the restaurant that adjoined the dock. Over +delicious, spicy Maryland crab cakes and coffee, they talked with the +proprietor, a friendly, heavy-set Eastern Shore man who spoke with the +typical 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 saucers +around here?" he asked whimsically. + +"A few." + +The boys stared. + +The man smiled at the reaction. "Didn't expect that? It's true. We see +one now and again." + +"Really?" Rick asked. + +"Sure as geese fly. Don't know that they're really flyin' saucers like +we read about in the Washington and Baltimore papers--we get both--but +they're somethin' strange. Not natural, anyway." + +The boys looked at each other. There was no doubt that the proprietor +believed what he was saying. He was as casual as though reporting a +catch 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 a +few lines. But the way the stories got written, you'd think us Eastern +Shore 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 are +located right here at the Narrows, and they reported to Baltimore. +Nothin' happened. The authorities aren't sold on flyin' saucers, you +might say. I guess the last report was when Link Harris was kidnaped by +one." + +Rick's scalp prickled. "You honestly mean someone was kidnaped by a +flying saucer?" + +"It's the only thing we can think of. Link went out to set his crab +lines, like always, and never came home. We set out to find him, and we +found his boat all right, but no Link. One of the saucers was seen by +several folks, and they said later it seemed right over where he was +workin' 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 these +waters. Water was smooth. Not a ripple, even out on the bay. Even if he +fell 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. Shore +wasn'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 a +flying 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. It +was clear he didn't particularly care whether they were convinced or +not. He was making conversation just to be sociable. "Where Link was +settin' lines is just a little creek with marsh all around. No man with +any sense would get out of a boat and go ashore into marshland, now +would he? Besides, there's no reason Link would want to disappear. He +lived all alone and did about what he pleased. Crabs netted him enough +money 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 they +got 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 the +north, about three miles closer to the river mouth. You'll pass it on +the way. Better keep an eye open. That boat of yours might attract +flyin' saucers the way a decoy attracts ducks." + +Rick saw the twinkle in the proprietor's eye. "We'll set a bear trap on +the upper deck," he said. "Any flying saucer tries to pick us up, the +pilot will catch one of his six legs in it." + +"Likely," the man agreed. "You catch one, bring it to the Narrows, will +you? Always wanted to see one at close range." + +"We'll do that," Rick agreed, and no premonition or hunch warned him how +close he and Scotty would come to carrying out the promise. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +The Flying Stingaree + + +Someone once said that the Chesapeake Bay "looks like the deck plan of +an octopus," but the mental image created by the phrase tells but a +fraction of the story. Rivers and creeks empty into the bay by the +dozens, and every river, and most of the creeks, have tributaries. Even +some of the tributaries have tributaries. The result is thousands of +miles of navigable waters, forming a maze of waterways that it would +take most of a lifetime of weekend cruising to explore. + +The cruising houseboat _Spindrift_ moved steadily across the mouth of +one of the principal waterways of the Eastern Shore, the Choptank River. +It was a good three miles across the river's mouth, and Rick occupied +the time by reading aloud to Scotty, who was piloting. + +"'The Choptank River is navigable for large ships to the city of +Cambridge, a principal Eastern Shore port. Yachts will find the river +navigable for twenty miles beyond Cambridge, depending on their draft, +while boats of shallow draft can cruise all the way into the State of +Delaware.'" Rick paused in his reading and looked up. "Be fun to go up +one of these rivers to the source, wouldn't it?" + +"Maybe we can," Scotty replied. "Read on." + +"'The name Choptank comes from the Choptank Indians who lived in the +area until the middle of the nineteenth century. These Indians were +first discovered by Captain John Smith when he sailed into Chesapeake +Bay in search of a location for what later became the Jamestown +Colony.'" + +"We're sailing through history," Scotty commented. "And we'd better step +on it." He pushed the throttles forward. The houseboat accelerated to +its top speed of about twelve miles an hour. + +"What's up?" Rick demanded. + +"Look to the southwest. That must be one of those Chesapeake Bay squalls +the book warns about." + +There was a black line of clouds some distance away, but Rick could see +that the squall line was moving fast, crossing the bay in their +direction. He swung the chart table up and studied the situation. They +were close to the south shore of the Choptank River now, and the chart +showed no easily accessible place of shelter in the vicinity. They would +have to run for the Little Choptank, the next river to the south. The +chart showed several creeks off the Little Choptank. They could duck +into the one nearest the river mouth. + +"Can we ride it out if we have to?" Rick asked. + +Scotty grinned. "We'll find out, if we have to. But I'd rather not be in +open water when a squall hits this barge. It's not built for storms. +Keep your fingers crossed and hope we get to cover before it hits." + +"I hear you talking. I'm going to do a little research." Rick ducked +into the cabin and took the tide tables from the bookshelf. Back on +deck, he leafed through the official publication and found that the +nearest point for tidal data was the Choptank River Light, only a few +miles away and clearly visible. High and low tides at the light were +about three hours and fifteen minutes earlier than Baltimore, the data +station for the area. Rick checked Baltimore data for the date, +subtracted quickly, and glanced at his watch. + +"High tide in about a half hour. The chart shows three feet near shore +at mean low water. High tide will bring it up to four and a half at the +very least. That's plenty for this barge. Get inshore and cut corners. +We won't have to stick to the channel." + +Scotty swung the wheel instantly, and the houseboat took a new course, +leading them closer to shore. "Better keep an eye out for logs or +pilings," Scotty warned. "No rocks in the area, so we don't have to +worry about shoals." + +The wooded shore slid by, the trees gradually giving way to low scrub +and marsh grass as they neared the mouth of the Little Choptank. Rick +alternately kept an eye out ahead and checked their position on the +chart. They were in about five feet of water, more than enough for the +shallow-draft houseboat. His principal worry was the outboard +propellers. He didn't want to break one on a log that might be sticking +up underwater. + +The squall was closer now, and the sky was growing dark. Rick estimated +that they had no more than ten minutes before the storm would hit. He +had to look up at a sharp angle to see the storm front. Visibility was +down to zero directly under it. Whitecaps and a roiling sea told him +there was plenty of wind in the squall. He doubted that the houseboat +could head into it successfully. The wind would catch the high cabin +sides and force the houseboat onto the shore. + +Scotty swung around the northern tip of land that marked the mouth of +the Little Choptank. "We won't make it," he said, glancing at the chart. + +Rick nodded. "But the wind will be behind us. We can drive right into +the mouth of the nearest creek. According to the chart, there's a cove +just inside the mouth where we ought to be out of the wind." He put his +finger on the place, and suddenly a chill ran through him. The nearest +safe harbor was Swamp Creek, where Link Harris had vanished! + +There wasn't time to talk about it. He would have to be prepared to drop +the anchor quickly. "I'm going up on the bow," he said. "Once into the +creek, turn as hard as you can into the wind, then cut the power. I'll +heave the anchor over and the wind pressure on the boat can set it. But +keep the motors turning over in case it doesn't hold." + +"Got it," Scotty agreed. + +Rick stepped out of the cockpit onto the catwalk. The cabin top was just +chest-high, and he could hold on by grabbing the safety rails that ran +along the sides of the large sun deck. He moved swiftly along the walk +to the foredeck, a small semicircular deck used primarily for docking +and anchoring. The anchor line was coiled on a hook on the curving front +of the cabin, and the patent anchor was stowed on the deck itself. Rick +took the coil and faked down the line in smooth figure eights so it +would run out without fouling, then made sure the anchor was free and +ready to go. + +When Rick stood up and looked down the length of the cabin top at +Scotty, he saw that the squall was almost on them. The turbulent cloud +front was directly overhead. He saw the wind line, marked by turbulent +water, move swiftly toward the houseboat. The _Spindrift_ rocked as +though shaken by a giant hand, and its speed picked up appreciably. The +houseboat began to pitch as the chop built up around it. Visibility +dropped suddenly; it was almost dark. Rick winced as large, hard-driven +raindrops lashed into his face, then he turned his back to the storm and +stared ahead. + +The creek mouth was in sight. He pointed to it for Scotty's benefit, but +when he turned to look at his pal, the driving rain slashed into his +eyes and made him look away. + +Scotty had seen the creek mouth. Staying as close to shore as he dared, +Scotty drove the houseboat to within fifty yards of the narrow mouth, +then swung the helm hard. The wind, which had been astern, was now abeam +and its force was acting on the high side of the boat. The houseboat +slewed sideways, and for a moment Rick thought they would be driven on +to the upstream bank of the creek. But Scotty had judged his distance +and wind pressure well. The boat shot into the creek mouth with feet to +spare. + +The cove opened up ahead. Scotty reversed one motor and the houseboat +turned almost in its own length. Rick watched the shore through +squinting eyes, and the moment he saw the boat's forward motion cease, +he dropped the big anchor over. The wind caught the houseboat again and +drove it backward into the cove while the anchor line ran out. When he +had enough line out for safety, Rick snubbed it tight around a cleat, +held the taut line between thumb and forefinger until he was sure it had +none of the vibrations caused by a dragging anchor, and then hurried +back along the catwalk to the cockpit. He and Scotty ran from the +rainswept deck down the two steps into the cabin. + +For a moment the two stood grinning at each other and listening to the +heavy drumming of the rain on the cabin top, then Rick spoke. "We'd +better get out of these wet clothes so we can sit down. This may last +for an hour or so." + +Scotty agreed. "First one into dry shorts makes the coffee." + +"That's me," Rick said. He stripped off the soaking clothes, toweled +quickly, and put on dry shorts. The rain had chilled the air, so he +reached into the drawer under the amidships bunks, took out a sweat +shirt, and pulled it over his head. It felt good. + +Scotty had taken time to dry off the books and binoculars he had brought +from the deck before he changed his own clothes. By the time he was +dressed in dry shorts and sweater, Rick had the alcohol stove going and +water heating for coffee. + +"Know where we are?" Rick asked casually. + +"Sure. We're--" Scotty stopped. "For Pete's sake! I didn't make the +connection at first. We're in Swamp Creek, where that man got snatched +by a flying saucer!" + +"Right. Worried?" + +Scotty grinned. "Any flying saucer that can navigate in this weather is +welcome to what it gets. How's the anchor?" + +"Holding," Rick said. "I hope." He looked out the galley window and +watched the shore. It changed position as the boat moved, but that was +only because the houseboat was swinging at anchor. "Seems all right," he +added. + +Ten minutes later coffee was ready. The boys sat at the dinette table +and sipped with relish, listening to the storm outside. It seemed to be +increasing in intensity. + +"Picking up," Scotty said. "The guidebook wasn't kidding when it said +'sudden and severe summer storms lash the bay.'" + +"Wonder how long they last?" Rick asked. + +"Hard to say. Perhaps an hour." + +The houseboat jerked suddenly. Rick jumped to his feet. "Did you feel +that?" + +The boat heeled under the lash of wind. Rick peeled off his sweat shirt. +"Feels as though the anchor dragged a little. I'm going out and let out +more scope. We can't take a chance of drifting in this wind." + +"I'll go," Scotty offered. + +"No. I put the anchor down. It's my fault if it slips. Stand by." + +Rick pulled the cabin door open and winced at the blast of raindrops, +like heavy buckshot on his face and body. For a moment he hesitated, +then realized the sooner he got it over with, the better. He hurried to +the catwalk and swung down it, meanwhile estimating his distances. He +could let out another fifty feet of anchor line without getting the boat +too near shore. The more anchor line out, the better the anchor could +hold. + +He made the forward deck and looked around, realizing that the wind +direction had changed and that the blast was now coming down the creek, +swinging the houseboat around. That probably was why the anchor had +shifted. He knelt and took the line in his fingers. It no longer seemed +to be slipping, but it was better not to take a chance. He unloosed the +half hitches that held it to the cleat, threw off all but one +figure-eight turn, and let the anchor line run out slowly. When he +estimated about fifty feet had run through, he put on more figure eights +around the cleat, then dropped half hitches over to secure the line. +Once more he reached out and held the taut line. It didn't seem to be +slipping. He pulled on it hard, and felt the boat move. The anchor was +in solidly this time. + +Rick turned and started back to the catwalk, rain lashing his back. +Sudden instinct made him whirl around in time to see something huge and +black rushing at him out of the storm. Rain blurred his vision. He had a +swift impression of a black figure, shaped like a diamond, coming at +him. He threw himself flat on the foredeck. There was a rustling sound +overhead, and something clanged off the cabin top's aluminum rail. Rick +was on his feet again. Heart pounding, he looked around. There was +nothing but rain and wind. He stood upright and looked across the cabin +top. For an instant he glimpsed a black object above the canopy over the +rear cockpit, then that, too, was lost in the rain. + +Shaken, Rick made his way back to the cabin, entered, closed the door, +and leaned against it. Scotty looked up, and was on his feet in an +instant. + +[Illustration (2 page 29 and 30)] + +"Rick! What happened? You're white as a sheet!" he exclaimed. + +"Saw one," Rick managed. He was still shaking. "It went right over the +boat. I think it hit the upper rail. We'll check later. But it wasn't a +flying saucer. I'm sure of that." + +"What was it?" Scotty demanded. + +"A flying stingaree!" + + + + +CHAPTER III + +Orvil Harris, Crabber + + +Rick Brant awoke to the sound of a motor. For a moment he lay quietly in +his bunk, listening. The sun through the cabin windows told him it was +early in the morning. The sunlight still had the red quality of early +sunrise. He watched the light shift as the houseboat swung on its +anchor. + +By the time the storm last night had ended, darkness had set in, and it +was only sensible to turn on the anchor light and remain in the Swamp +Creek cove for the night. In spite of his unsettling experience, Rick +and Scotty had not been deeply disturbed. Neither he nor Scotty believed +in flying saucers--at least, not in saucers that kidnaped people, and +the object Rick had seen had not been saucer-like. It had been shaped +like a stingaree. + +Stingarees don't fly. + +Rick smiled to himself. During another vacation, skin diving in the +Virgin Islands, he and Scotty had proved that octopuses don't wail. But +if stingarees don't fly, he asked himself, what looks like a stingaree +and _does_ fly? + +He realized suddenly that the sound of the motor was louder once again. +Someone investigating the houseboat? He swung out of bed. The cool air +of morning was in sharp contrast to the warmth of his sleeping bag. +Quickly he slipped into shorts and sweat shirt. As he opened the cabin +door, he heard the slap of bare feet on the deck behind him and turned +to see Scotty regain his balance after dropping from the upper bunk. + +"Go ahead," Scotty called. "Be right with you." + +"Okay." Rick stepped out into the cockpit and glanced around. It was a +lovely morning. The ever-present birds of the Chesapeake area were +already active. A huge blue heron stepped daintily in the shallows like +a stilt walker afraid of falling over. The heron was looking for small +fish or anything that moved and was edible. An osprey, the great fish +hawk of the bay region, swooped overhead on lazy wings, sharp eyes alert +for small fish near the water's surface. In the pine woods behind the +shore marsh, a bluejay called, its voice like a squeaky hinge. + +The motor sound was distant now, and the shore upstream blocked Rick's +view. Then, as he watched, a long, low, white motorboat came into sight. +Its bow was vertical, its sides low. There was no cabin. Amidships was a +single man, clad in overalls and a denim shirt. The man was surrounded +by bushel baskets, and he held a long-handled crab net made of chicken +wire. + +Rick watched with interest. On one side of the boat was a roller that +extended out over the water. A heavy cord came out of the water, crossed +the roller, and dipped back into the water again. Every few feet there +was a chunk of something on the cord, apparently bait. As Rick watched, +a piece of bait came up with a crab clinging to it. The net swooped and +the crab was caught, pulled inboard, and dumped into a bushel basket +with one fluid motion. The crabber never took his eyes from the cord. +The boat continued in a straight line. + +Scotty came out on deck and joined Rick. The boys watched in silence +while the man caught a dozen crabs, then picked one from the bait and +flipped it into the water. + +"Too small, I guess," Rick commented. + +"Must be. Where does the line go?" + +Rick pointed. A gallon oilcan, painted blue and white, bobbed gently in +the creek. "That's where he's heading." + +The crabber approached the can, then flipped the line off the roller. +Using a lever next to him, he turned the boat and headed toward another +can some distance away. A quick pull with a boat hook and the line +attached to the can was placed over the roller. Crabs appeared, holding +onto the bait as the boat moved along the new line. Rick counted. The +crabber was getting about one crab for every three baits. + +Scotty leaned over the cockpit rail. "There's the end of his line, over +near shore. He'll pass close to us." + +"That's why the motor sounded loud," Rick guessed. "He moves from one +line to another. Last time he came by the boat he woke me up." + +"Same here." Scotty nodded. + +The crabber moved methodically, his boat proceeding at a steady pace +toward the houseboat. As he came abreast, he called, "Mornin'." + +The boys returned the greeting. + +"Looks like a good catch," Scotty called. + +"Fair. Only fair." The crabber scooped up a huge blue crab from almost +under their noses and went on his way. + +"If it's only fair now, what must it be like when it's good?" Rick asked +with a grin. + +"Two crabs on every hunk of bait," Scotty said. "You count crabs and +I'll make coffee." + +"That's my boy," Rick said approvingly. + +Scotty went into the cabin and left Rick watching the crabber. Rick +tried to figure out all the details. After a short time he concluded +that the floats were attached to anchors of some kind. The anchors kept +the crab line on the bottom, except when it was running over the roller. +He also saw that there were no hooks or other gadgets. The crabs were +caught simply because they refused to let go of the bait. + +The aroma of coffee drifted through the cabin door, and Rick wondered +why it is that coffee, bacon, and other breakfast scents are so much +more tantalizing on the water. + +The crabber approached on the leg of his journey closest to the boat. On +impulse, Rick called, "Come aboard and have some coffee?" + +The man grinned. Without missing his smooth swing at a rising crab, he +called back, "Don't mind. That coffee smell was drivin' me nigh crazy. +Be back when I finish this line." + +Rick leaned into the cabin. "Company for coffee, Scotty." + +"Heard you. Got another cup all ready. In here or out there?" + +"Out here. It's too nice to be inside." + +In a few moments the motorboat, which turned out to be as long as the +houseboat, came alongside. Rick took the line thrown by the crabber and +made it fast so that the crab boat would drift astern. He looked into +the boat with interest. Covers on four baskets showed that the crabber +had collected four bushels of crabs. A fifth and sixth basket were half +full, one with very large crabs, the other with smaller ones. + +The crabber swung aboard. He was of medium height, with light-blue eyes +set in a tanned and weather-beaten face. Rick guessed his age to be +somewhere in the mid-forties. He smiled, showing even teeth that were +glaringly white in his tanned face. + +"Name's Orvil Harris," he announced. + +"Rick Brant." Rick shook hands. "That's Don Scott coming out with the +coffee." + +Scotty put down the coffeepot and mugs he was carrying and shook hands. +"Call me Scotty, Mr. Harris. How do you like your coffee?" + +"Strong and often," Harris replied. "Plain black. Call me Orvil." + +Like all visitors, Harris was interested in the houseboat. "Been hopin' +for a look inside," he said in his slurred Eastern Shore accent. "Almost +gave up hope. You get up late, seems like." + +Rick glanced at the sun. "Must be all of seven o'clock. You call that +late?" + +"Been here since four. It's late for me." + +Rick showed Orvil Harris through the boat, then sat with him and Scotty +in the cockpit, sipping steaming coffee. The crabber talked willingly +about his business. + +"Not much profit," he reported, "but it beats workin'." + +After hearing about a crabber's life, rising in the middle of the night, +rain or shine, working crab lines and hauling baskets around until noon, +Rick wondered what Harris would consider hard work. Having spent a +dollar for six steamed crabs a few nights before, he was also amazed to +hear the crabber report that he received only six dollars a bushel for +"jumbo" crabs and three dollars a bushel for "culls," or medium ones. +All under four and a half inches from tip to tip were thrown back. + +Rick waited a courteous length of time before asking the question that +had been on his mind since hearing the crabber's name. "Are you any +relation to Link Harris?" + +"Second cousin." The blue eyes examined him with new interest. "Where'd +you hear about Link?" + +"At the Narrows," Scotty replied. "We were talking about flying +saucers." + +"Flyin' catfish," Harris said scornfully. "You swallow that yarn?" + +"Didn't you?" Rick asked quickly. + +"Not any. That why you picked this creek to anchor in when there's so +many nicer ones upstream?" + +Scotty explained. "We ducked in here to get out of that squall last +night. We didn't exactly pick it. Afterward, we realized where we were." + +"Why don't you believe the story about Link Harris?" Rick wanted to +know. + +"Oh, I believe some of it." The crabber took out a blackened, much-used +pipe and stoked it. "Link disappeared, all right. We found his boat +yonder." He pointed to a spot on the marshy shore. + +"He didn't drown?" Rick pressed. + +Harris shrugged. "Not very likely. We'd have found his body. Way the +tides were that day, there was no ebb tide strong enough to carry a body +out into deep water. The creek was clear. We'd have seen him." + +"Then where did he go?" Scotty demanded. + +"Can't say. When he disappeared, I went to Baltimore and bought every +book on flyin' saucers I could lay hands on. All I know for sure is that +what folks have been seein' around here ain't saucers. Shape's wrong, +color's wrong, and they don't move the way the books say." + +"Would you say they were diamond-shaped, dark in color, with tails?" +Rick asked carefully. + +Harris stopped with a match halfway to his pipe. "I would. For sure. +When'd you see one?" + +"Last night. Right here." + +"Mmmmm." Harris got the pipe going well and threw the match into the +water. "I've never seen one close. Hoped to. That's why I crab this +creek. Would you say it was big enough to catch a man?" + +Rick shook his head. "I didn't get a very long look, but I'd say +definitely not. Unless it had some kind of powerful motor I couldn't see +or hear." + +Harris puffed silently. + +"Any theories?" Scotty asked. + +"Not one. I'm barren as the flats in winter." + +Rick finished his coffee and put the mug down on the cabin top. "Would +Link have gone away of his own accord?" + +"I wouldn't think so." Harris accepted more coffee from Scotty. "But +let's keep one foot anchored. Who knows what's in a man's mind? Any man? +Sometimes there's a deep channel full of black water, and nothin' to +make you suspect it. Maybe Link did walk off. It would be the easiest +explanation--if you hadn't seen somethin' last night. I was about to +give up. Now I'm not so sure. What you saw came from somewhere, and it +was goin' somewhere. If we could find out whence and whither, so to +speak, we might have an idea of what happened to Link." + +Harris drew erect. "Speakin' of whence and whither, what's your +destination?" + +"We're visiting a friend," Rick answered. "He lives on Martins Creek on +the south side of the river. Name is Ames." + +Harris nodded. "I know who he is. Washington man. Has a summer place." + +"You've met him?" Scotty inquired. + +"So to speak. We've howdy'd, but we haven't shook." + +Rick smothered a grin at the picturesque phrase. + +"I'd better get back to crabs," Harris said. "I'm mighty grateful for +the hospitality. You get to town, look me up, and give me a chance to +return it." He shook hands with both boys, pulled his boat alongside, +and stepped aboard. In a short time, he was running the crab lines +again. + +"Interesting," Rick said noncommittally. + +Scotty chuckled. "Here we go again. Sherlock Brant's got his teeth into +a nice fat mystery. Good-by vacation." + +Rick had to grin. "It's not that bad," he said defensively. "I just +thought we might sniff around a little." + +"That's what I thought you thought. Come on, Hawkshaw. Let's get some +bacon and eggs on the fire and haul anchor." + +"Okay." Rick checked the chart. "We're only about twenty minutes' run +from Steve's place. If we eat here, he won't think he has to feed us +breakfast." + +"Considerate," Scotty agreed, grinning. "I can see you now. You walk up +the dock, shake hands, and say, 'Glad to see you, Steve. Don't bother +about breakfast. We've eaten. By the way, have you had any trouble with +flying stingarees?'" + +Rick grinned back. "Not bad predicting. Actually, I was going to wait +for the right opportunity, then say, 'Wonderful hunting and fishing +country, Steve. By the way, when does the hunting season open for flying +stingarees?'" + +Scotty laughed. "Okay. Only let's get going. I want to see how he +answers!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +Steve's Place + + +A red buoy marked the entrance to Martins Creek. Rick, at the helm, +passed it close to starboard and headed into the center of the creek. +Past the wooded shores of the creek entrance, he could see fields, +obviously tended, and more woods. + +"Steve's place should be the second on the left," Scotty said. "The +first house with a dock." + +"Use the binoculars," Rick suggested. "We should be able to see it when +we round the next bend." + +The houseboat passed the first house, a small, modern dwelling set close +to the water. A rowboat was hauled up on the shore. The creek rounded a +wooded promontory and the next house came into view. Steve's! + +Rick's eager eyes saw an attractive farmhouse, set well back from the +water in a frame of willows and white oaks. There was an acre of green +lawn in front of the house, the lawn running down to the water's edge. A +small dock jutted out into the creek. Tied to one side of it was a +sturdy runabout with an outboard motor. + +"Pretty," Scotty approved. + +Rick nodded. The farmhouse was half frame, half white brick, with a +slate roof. It was apparently only one story high. On impulse, Rick gave +a long blast on the boat horn. + +The front door opened and a man looked out, then walked swiftly down to +the dock, waving. The boys waved back. + +"Get the lines ready," Rick requested. "I'll back in." + +He throttled down and let the houseboat move slowly past the dock while +he yelled a greeting to Steve Ames. There were no obstacles, and just +enough room for the boat. He reversed his motors and threw his helm hard +over, backing slowly into position. Scotty stood ready with a line, +which he heaved to Steve. Then Scotty ran lightly to the foredeck and +got the bowline ready. The houseboat nestled against the dock smoothly +and Rick killed the motors. Then the three old friends were shaking +hands and grinning from ear to ear. + +"I've been watching since yesterday afternoon," Steve told them. "That +storm last night worried me some. I didn't know whether you could ride +it out or not." + +"No trouble," Rick said. "We ran into Swamp Creek on the north side of +the river and spent the night there." He watched the agent's face +closely, but Steve didn't react. + +"Come on in," Steve invited. "Coffee's on. Had your breakfast?" + +"We ate before hauling anchor," Scotty said, grinning. + +Steve Ames knew the boys well. "Something's up," he stated. "Rick is +watching me like a suspicious sand crab and your tone of voice is wrong, +Scotty. Coffee first, then talk. Come on." + +Rick shook his head in admiration. It was impossible to catch Steve off +guard. The agent had a deceptive appearance, athletic and good looking, +with the forthright friendliness of a college undergraduate. But his +trained eyes and ears missed nothing. + +Steve's living room was attractive and comfortable, with bookshelves +between the windows, a stone fireplace, a striped rug, and deep, restful +chairs. There were lamps in exactly the right positions for reading. + +The agent brought in a tray of coffee cups, with a pot of coffee and +platter of doughnuts. "Even if you've eaten breakfast, you can manage a +couple of these." He poured coffee and made sure the boys were +comfortable, then sank into an armchair and looked at them quizzically. + +"All right. Out with it." + +Rick chuckled. "You're too sharp," he accused. "We had a plan all cooked +up. I was going to comment on the fishing and hunting, and then +ask--very innocently--when the season for flying stingarees opened." + +The agent's eyebrows went up. "Flying stingarees? Swimming ones, yes. +Open season any time. Flying ones, no. What is all this?" + +"Rick saw one last night in the storm," Scotty explained. + +"That's not all," Rick added. He told of their conversation at the +Narrows and of the talk with Orvil Harris that morning. "So there's +something fishy around here besides crabs and rockfish. We thought you +might know," he concluded. + +Steve shook his head with obvious admiration. "Leave it to the Spindrift +twins! If there's a mystery afoot, you'll unearth it. Nope, lads. Never +heard of your flying stingarees, or flying saucers, either. But that's +not surprising. I'm down here mostly on weekends, sometimes with a +friend or two, and the only local folks we see are at the store or gas +station. Usually I'm in too much of a rush for small talk. I don't get +the local papers, and when I listen to the radio or watch TV, it's +either a Washington or Baltimore station. So I'm not in touch with local +events." + +"Anyway," Rick said, "stingarees don't fly." + +Steve had been in the Virgin Islands, too, and had been involved in the +adventure of _The Wailing Octopus_. "You found out that the octopus +didn't wail," he reminded them, "but for a while it looked as though +you'd found a new species. Maybe this is the same thing. What makes the +stingaree fly?" + +"It would be fun to find out," Scotty admitted. + +"You'll have time to make a start, and I won't be in the way with plans +for fishing or crabbing. I'm sorry, boys, but I'll be in and out of +Washington for a few days. Got a hot case working that I can't leave for +long." + +The boys protested. "You deserve some vacation," Rick said hotly. + +Steve held up his hand. "Whoa! I'm getting a vacation. This case should +be settled in three or four days, and I'll be with you. Meanwhile, you +move in here. You can drive me to the airport at Cambridge and pick me +up when I come back. That will leave you a car, and you can use the +motorboat for exploring or for fishing. If you feel like skin diving, +you can try for rock or hardheads off the northern tip of Taylors +Island, right at the mouth of the river. Did you bring gear?" + +"The whole set," Rick replied. "Lungs, compressors, guns, and even +suits." + +"You won't need suits. The bay is shallow and warm. At night you can +relax right here. Plenty of books, TV, radio, or a chessboard. If it +gets cool, there's wood for the fireplace." + +"Sounds good," Scotty agreed. "But we wanted you with us." + +"I will be. Before the weekend." + +"When do you have to leave?" Rick asked. + +"Three this afternoon. I have an evening meeting at headquarters. I'll +be back on the four-o'clock flight tomorrow afternoon, and, with luck, I +won't have to go again. If I do, it will be only for a day." + +"Okay," Rick said reluctantly. "We'll settle in, but we won't move in. +We'll sleep on the boat. No need to use up your linens and stuff when we +have sleeping bags if the weather is cold and cotton blankets when it's +warm. Besides, housekeeping is easier on the boat." + +Steve grinned. "I'll bet it is. If I know you two, you eat out of cans +and never use a dish if you can help it. Your idea of washing a coffee +cup is to hold it under running water or to dip it in the bay. Wait +until your mother and the girls join you. Life will undergo a drastic +change." + +"Don't rub it in," Scotty said ruefully. "Now, how about showing us over +this estate of yours?" + +Steve was pleased by the request. He obviously was proud of his +creekside home, and with reason. There were fifty acres of land, mostly +oak forest, with a private access road. Electric power came in from the +public power lines, but he had a gasoline generator in case of failure, +and his own artesian well. He explained: + +"The house has been completely remodeled, but it's really quite old. +When it was built, there was only a wagon track. In those days, the +rivers and creeks were the highways, and the people traveled by boat. +You'll see old mansions fronting on the rivers here. The back doors face +the roads. Water transport was the reason. The landed gentry had barges +rowed by slaves. The poor folks rowed their own. Of course, there were +plenty of sailing craft, too. There still are." + +The creek in front of the house proved deep enough for swimming, and the +three went for a dip. Rick tasted the water. It was salty, but not like +the ocean. The backwaters of the bay were brackish, with low-salt +content. + +In the afternoon, the boys--somewhat reluctantly--got into what they +referred to as "shore-going clothes." These consisted of slacks, sport +shirts, light casual jackets, and loafers. Steve had a bag packed. They +got into his car, a late-model convertible, and headed for Cambridge. + +The plane, a small twin-engine craft, was late coming from Norfolk. By +the time Steve was en route to Washington, it was nearly the dinner +hour. + +"Eat out?" Rick suggested. + +"Absolutely. More crab cakes?" + +Rick shook his head. "Crab imperial. Maybe some steamed clams." + +"You're making me hungry," Scotty protested. "I'll say one thing for the +bay area. The folks eat well. How about some terrapin stew?" + +"Crab imperial," Rick said again. "Baked in a crab shell. Lots of +mayonnaise, paprika, and butter. I'll have a hearts of romaine salad on +the side, with oil-and-vinegar dressing. Maybe tarragon vinegar. A few +French fries, too. But first, a couple of dozen steamed clams. What do +they call 'em here? Manos, pronounced Man! Oh!" + +"Just tell me where," Scotty begged. "Say no more." + +"How about that place we passed just before we got to Cambridge? The one +built like a Colonial mansion." + +"The Bay Gourmet," Scotty remembered. "Okay. You're driving." + +Rick put the convertible in gear and moved out of the airport driveway +onto the highway. "We're on our own," he said. "It's up to us to +entertain ourselves. But food isn't enough. Man cannot live by bread +alone, the Scriptures say." + +"I knew it." Scotty slumped down in the seat and sighed. "Since man +cannot live by bread alone, his life must be filled with other things. +And guess what things!" + +Rick smiled in anticipation. "Uh-huh. Flying stingarees." + + + + +CHAPTER V + +The Face Is Familiar + + +The Bay Gourmet was all that its outside appearance promised. A waiter, +elderly and courteous, his voice soft with the Eastern Shore accent, led +them to a table in a main dining room that was like something out of +early American history, Maryland style. The Maryland colony had not been +poor, and many of its settlers had been of the English nobility. They +had brought with them furniture, paintings, and chinaware from England +and France, and their homes were gracious and livable. + +The restaurant followed the pattern. Rick wouldn't have been surprised +to see the ghost of Lord Baltimore walk through one of the arches. + +The boys pored over the menus and finally settled on crab gumbo, clam +fritters, and crab imperial. While they waited, Rick opened the subject +that was on his mind. "How does a stingaree fly?" + +Scotty shrugged. "Easy. He climbs to the top of a tall tree, spreads his +wings, and takes off. He flaps his wings to gain altitude. He steers +with his tail." + +"I'm serious," Rick said sternly, his eyes twinkling. + +"So am I. Alternate method: the stingaree climbs on a fence and lassos a +passing airplane. Or catches a ride on an eagle's tail feathers. Take +your choice." + +"I've got a better way. The stingaree poses for his picture. The picture +is used as a model for making a kite, probably of black plastic. The +kite gets flown in the wind." + +Scotty stared. "Maybe--just maybe--you've got something there. The +stingaree shape would make a good kite. Could what you saw have been a +kite?" + +"It's possible." Rick nodded. "The wind was funneling down the creek +pretty fast, and it would have carried a big kite. There's only one +small difficulty. Why launch a kite that has no string?" + +"You certain it didn't have a string?" + +"In that wind, the string would have had to be a cable. I'd have seen +it, and maybe felt it. The kite--stingaree, that is--just missed. Of +course, the string might have broken." + +"There's another small difficulty," Scotty said thoughtfully. "If it was +a kite, where was it launched and why?" + +"Up the creek somewhere. We don't know what's up there." + +"True. From the looks, I'd say not much. Maybe some opossums and +muskrats, which don't launch kites." + +Rick spread butter liberally on a hot biscuit. "We can always take a +look." + +"We can. In Steve's boat, the creek would be only a few minutes away." + +Rick savored the biscuit and took another bite that finished it. "I +could eat a ton of these. What else would make a stingaree fly?" + +Scotty accepted a pitcher of honey from the waiter and poured a +disgraceful amount on a biscuit. "How about some kind of experimental +aircraft?" + +Rick shook his head. "The stingaree was vertical. An experimental plane +in that position would have to be rising straight up, and this creature +was traveling almost horizontally, with the wind. Besides, I heard no +motor or any kind of power plant." + +"You're as lucid as lamplight, ol' buddy. You explain everything--except +what made that stingaree fly." + +Rick grinned wryly. "I'll never get a swelled head with you sticking +pins in it." + +"Only carrying out my proper function," Scotty said virtuously. + +The first course had arrived. Crab gumbo turned out to be spicy, hot, +and very, very good. + +"I may decide to live here," Rick said as he spooned up the last +mouthful. + +"I'm a native already," Scotty stated. "The Chesapeake Bay is my home, +if the rest of the meal lives up to the soup." + +The clam fritters were light, crisp, and succulent. "Meet a brand-new +Marylander," Scotty announced. + +Rick started to reply, then stopped as a party of three entered the +dining room and were shown to a table nearby. He knew one of the men, +but he couldn't remember where they had met. + +"Scotty," he said softly, "look around at the group that just came in. +Who's the man in the plaid jacket? I know him, but I can't remember." + +Scotty's napkin "accidentally" fell to the floor. He had to turn to pick +it up. When he straightened, he shook his head. "The face is familiar, +but I can't place it." + +Rick studied the man through half-lowered lids, not wanting to be rude +by staring openly. The familiar face was lean, and lined. It was not a +pleasant face, although its owner would be described as a +"distinguished-looking man of middle age." The lips were not especially +thin, but they were tightly held. The chin was firm, with a shadow of +beard even though the man looked freshly shaven. His hair was crisp, +wavy, and pure white. + +"Could be of French or Italian ancestry," Rick said. "Or, maybe, Spanish +or Portuguese. Anyway, I'd vote for Southern European." + +"On the button," Scotty agreed. + +Rick's eyes dropped as the man looked their way. The eyes were dark +brown, he saw, with heavy lids. The eyebrows, in startling contrast to +the white hair, were dark. + +The boy looked up again, his glance guarded. The man was smartly, but +conservatively dressed, in dark-blue slacks, white sport shirt open at +the collar, and a linen sport jacket of subdued plaid, much like those +affected by some Ivy Leaguers. + +The other two men were not familiar. One was almost bald, with a wisp of +sandy hair combed in a pitiful and useless attempt to conceal the +baldness. He wore glasses with clear plastic frames. They sat on a nose +that could have served as a golf-ball model. His lips were almost +nonexistent, and his chin receded so far that Rick wondered why he +didn't conceal it with a beard. He seemed like a complete non-entity. In +contrast to the white-haired man's style of dress, the nondescript man +wore a rumpled black suit of synthetic fabric, a regular white shirt, +and a tie that a color-blind old aunt might have given him for Christmas +two decades past. + +[Illustration (2 page 51 and 52)] + +The third man was the largest of the three, with an expressionless face +and eyes that never stopped moving. He sat motionless in his chair, +apparently completely relaxed. Rick knew that the relaxation was +deceptive. Steve Ames at times looked relaxed like that, but it was the +same kind of quietness one finds in a coiled spring that has not yet +been released. The man had brown hair, light-brown eyes, and a heavy +tan. He spoke only twice while Rick watched, and then only to give +orders to the waiter. The other two men talked steadily, but in such low +tones that the boys could not hear words. + +The crab imperial arrived, and the riddle of the familiar face was +forgotten in a new taste treat. After one luscious bite, Rick said, "I'm +going to bring the folks here and order a duplicate of this meal. +They'll go crazy." + +Excellent food was a tradition in the Brant household. Mrs. Brant was a +superb cook, and both she and Hartson Brant had taught the Spindrift +young people to appreciate a well-prepared dish. + +"I'll order the same thing just to keep them company," Scotty offered. + +"Generous, always generous," Rick replied. "You'll eat the same thing +even if you have to force it down." + +"I'll do just that," Scotty agreed. "Remember where you've seen yonder +diner?" + +Rick shook his head. "Not yet. It's an odd trio. He's the dominant one +in the group. The bald one looks like a servant, and the big one like a +police dog on guard." + +"Bodyguard?" Scotty asked quickly. + +"Maybe. Or, perhaps, a chauffeur. It's hard to say." + +"Do you suppose the white-haired man is just a familiar type and we've +never seen him before?" + +"No. It isn't that. I know I've seen him before, but I can't tell you +where or when." + +The boys finished the meal with a scoop of lemon sherbet and rose +reluctantly. "We'll be back," Rick promised. + +"That we will," Scotty echoed. + +The old waiter bowed them to the door. As they were leaving, Rick +paused. "Do you know that white-haired man at the table near us?" + +"Why, sir, that's Mr. Merlin. Summer folks, you might say. He bought one +of the old mansions. This is his second summer with us." + +"Which one of the old mansions?" Scotty asked. + +"Calvert's Favor. It's in the guidebooks, sir. We have copies for sale +if you'd like one." + +"We have one," Rick replied. "Thank you." + +"Not at all, gentlemen. Hurry back." + +The boys walked into a lovely summer night, with a newly risen moon, +near fullness, floating just above the horizon. By unspoken agreement, +they put the top down on Steve's convertible. Rick was just snapping it +in place when he sensed someone standing next to him. He turned, to face +the big man of the trio. + +The man got to the point without preliminaries. "You were asking the +waiter about Mr. Merlin." + +"We thought he looked familiar, but we couldn't place him," Rick +replied. "We meant no discourtesy." + +"I'm sure you didn't," the man said smoothly. He didn't smile, even +though his voice was pleasant enough. "Mr. Merlin is a very prominent +man. He comes down here to get away from people. Naturally, he doesn't +welcome inquiries. I'm sure you understand." + +"We have no intention of intruding," Rick stated coolly. "As I said, he +looked familiar. We merely asked out of curiosity." + +"You're not local boys." It was a statement. + +"No. We're visitors." + +"The local people have learned not to ask questions about Mr. Merlin. I +suggest you follow their example." The man turned and walked back into +the restaurant. + +The boys stared after him, openmouthed. + +"If that poor soul only knew," Scotty said, "he picked the best possible +way to arouse our curiosity." + +"I haven't been warned so politely in a long time," Rick agreed. "Come +on, son. Let's head for Martins Creek." He slid behind the wheel while +Scotty got into the passenger side. + +Rick started the car and listened to it purr for a moment. "I noticed +that Steve has quite a few books about the Eastern Shore on his +bookshelves," he said casually. + +"So did I. Including one called _Tidewater Maryland_. Lots of pictures +of the old estates in that one." + +"Be interesting if there was a picture of Calvert's Favor, wouldn't it?" + +"Interesting and maybe informative. Well, are we going to sit here all +night?" + +"Nope. We're going to Steve's. Looks as if we have a small research +project." + +"To be followed by a second project," Scotty added. "First we read up on +Calvert's Favor, and then we find it and look it over." + +Rick grinned. "Nobody warns Scotty with impunity." + +"But nobody!" Scotty said cheerfully. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +The Saucer Sighters + + +"We shoot a line straight north," Rick explained, "for a distance of +about twenty miles. Then we start asking questions. If we get +affirmative answers, we head north again for another ten miles and +repeat the process. We do this until we come to an area where saucers +have not been sighted. Okay?" + +Scotty nodded. "Okay. There is only one tiny flaw in this plan. If we +head straight north, we drop Steve's car into the Little Choptank. If we +cross that safely, we'll get wet in the main Choptank." + +Rick sighed. "If there is anything I detest, loathe, and despise, it is +people who get up in the morning feeling full of humor. We will go to +Cambridge, missing the Little Choptank, and cross the Choptank on the +bridge. Route 50 goes almost straight north. Is that more precise and +acceptable, Donald?" + +"It is indeed, Richard. I'm a stickler for accuracy." + +"You're a stickler in the mud. Let's get a notebook and start +traveling." + +A conference after dinner the night before had resulted in a plan of +action. The boys had decided to reduce all the rumors about flying +saucers to statistics that could be examined to see what elements the +various sightings had in common. The way to obtain the statistics was +through interviews. + +The problem of the white-haired man with the familiar face still +remained. Steve's books had disclosed that Calvert's Favor was famous, +that it had been so named by the original settler because he had been +granted the land by Lord Calvert, that it had changed hands only twice +in more than a century. What the books didn't give was its location. The +place was identified only as "a quiet creek, entirely within the +original land grant." There was no mention of a Calvert Creek in the +vicinity. They decided to put the question of its location aside until +Steve's return. + +It was a lovely morning. The convertible hummed smoothly over the +blacktop roads to Cambridge, onto Route 50, across the Choptank River +and north. Rick braked to a stop as the highway met the turnoff to +Easton. "Think we're far enough north?" + +Scotty had been consulting a road map. He shook his head. "Not yet. +Easton is almost due east of Knapps Narrows, and we know the saucers +have been sighted there. Better go on to Wye Mills." + +"Okay." The road was dual-lane cement, now, and Rick relaxed while the +car sped northward. "Odd name, Wye Mills. Lots of Wyes around here. +Three Wye Rivers on the chart, a Wye Landing, and a famous old Wye Oak." + +"Sounds like a song," Scotty said. "Wye, tell me Wye, are there saucers +in the sky--" + +"Please," Rick protested, "I'm in pain." + +Route 50 turned at Wye Mills, leading to the Chesapeake Bay Bridge that +crossed the bay to Annapolis. There was a gas station and lunch stand at +the intersection. Rick pulled in and drifted up to the gas pump. "Fill +it up, please. Any bottles of Coke around?" + +"In the machine." The attendant pointed to the red automatic vendor. + +The boys equipped themselves with Cokes and walked back to watch the +attendant fill the tank. "We must be somewhere near where all those +flying saucers were sighted," Rick remarked. + +The attendant looked up. "Farther south. Never heard of anyone this far +north seein' one. They see plenty down toward Cambridge. Ask me, they're +seein' spots in front of their eyes." + +The boys exchanged glances. When the car was ready, Rick turned and +started south again. "See any stores on the way where we could ask +again?" + +"There's a restaurant. I saw two grocery stores, too, but from the way +the attendant talked, we'll have to get closer to Cambridge." Scotty was +making a note in their notebook. + +Five miles back toward home, Rick stopped at another gas station and +asked the attendant to look at the oil. None was needed, so the boys +bought another pair of Cokes and engaged the man in conversation. + +"Ever see any flying saucers in this area?" Rick asked. + +"Nope. My brother did though, late one afternoon when he was on duty." + +Scotty took out the notebook. "We're trying to get some information +about them for a story we're writing. Do you remember when it was?" + +"Let's see. I was workin' in the evenin' that day, so it must have been +a Saturday. Last month, it was. Oh, I recall it now. Next day I took the +kids to my mother's. It was her birthday. That would make it the tenth." + +"Where was your brother when he saw it?" Rick queried. + +"Pumpin' gas. Right here. He said it sort of came up over the trees, +glittering like fire." The attendant pointed to a patch of trees down +the road. The direction was almost directly southwest. + +Scotty scribbled in the notebook. "Any other details you remember? What +time in the afternoon was it?" + +"Between four and five. Can't say exactly. He was still buzzin' when I +came on duty at six. Wanted to call the newspapers, but I talked him out +of it. People would think he was a fool." + +"Did you?" Rick asked quietly. + +"Nope. I know Chick. He's got a straight head on him. It may not have +been a flyin' saucer, but you can bet it wasn't anythin' common, or +anythin' he'd seen before." + +"Score one," Scotty said triumphantly as they drove off. + +"One flying saucer doesn't make a Martian invasion," Rick reminded him. +"Let's keep it up." + +By lunchtime they had interviewed a dozen people who claimed to have +seen flying saucers. All details of the sightings had been noted in +Scotty's book. During lunch, at a small restaurant in the old town of +Oxford, they scored three more times after interviews with fishermen. + +After lunch, they crossed the Choptank and headed south to the little +town of Vienna. From there the route led to the shore town of Elliott, +back to Vienna, and past the corner of Delaware to Salisbury, a +good-sized town on the Maryland Eastern Shore. + +There was a newspaper office in Salisbury. A chat with the editor and a +quick skim through the back files added more data to the growing list. +Rick had a hunch there was a pattern shaping up, but he could not be +sure until the information was all laid out for examination. + +By the time the boys met Steve at the small airport, both Rick and +Scotty had writer's cramp, and the notebook was nearly used up. They had +recorded over half a hundred sightings. + +Steve listened to a report of their day with an appreciative smile. +"Nothing like a mystery for keeping you two out of mischief," he told +them. "Want to eat out? Or cook a steak in the yard?" + +"Eat out," Scotty said promptly. + +"We can get steak at home," Rick added. "But not Chesapeake Bay clam +fritters or Maryland crab cakes." + +Steve had a favorite place of his own, a small, nondescript joint called +"Louie's Crab House" up the Choptank River, near the town of Denton. +There, on wooden trestle tables covered with brown wrapping paper, he +introduced them to a favorite Chesapeake Bay pastime known as a "crab +feast." + +The waiter set wooden blocks in front of them, with a round piece of +hardwood, a fork, and a sharp paring knife. A stack of paper napkins was +supplied, and individual pots of melted butter completed the setting. + +The boys waited impatiently, hungry, but trusting Steve's word that the +result was worth the wait. The waiter reappeared carrying a huge tray, +stacked with a towering pyramid of whole crabs, steaming and red, coated +with the spices in which they had been cooked. Placing the tray on the +table, the waiter asked, "Anything else?" + +Scotty said, dazed, "I don't believe there's anything else left in the +kitchen. We have all the crabs in the world right here." + +"Only three dozen," the waiter said. "Jumbos, of course. You want +anything, you yell." + +Unidentified flying objects were forgotten as Steve initiated them into +the proper method of eating fresh crab. It turned out to be quite an +art, but one that they mastered quickly. Soon all three of them were +munching succulent back-fin crab meat drenched in fresh butter. The +wooden block served as an anvil, and the round hardwood piece as a +hammer for cracking claws. The paring knife was used for trimming and +for scooping out delicious bits of meat. The fork was utilized to +persuade small tidbits to leave their shell cages. Three or four napkins +were used between each tidbit to mop buttery hands, and even chins, down +which the butter sometimes dripped. It was a feast, indeed. + +"If I hadn't been a heavy eater before, I'd be one after this," Scotty +observed happily. + +"Beats hunting flying stingarees," Rick agreed. "Pass another crab, +please." + +Not until the table had been cleared by the waiter, who simply removed +the utensils and tray, then wrapped up all the shells in the brown paper +and carried it off, did the conversation return to the mystery. + +Rick hadn't told Steve of last night's meeting with the white-haired man +or of the thinly veiled warning. He described them now in detail. + +"Odd," Steve said. "This familiar face needs identifying. No normal +person worries about anyone asking casual questions. That's a sure mark +of insecurity. In other words, the man is afraid. People who are afraid +often have something to hide. Do you have any reason to think he may be +tied up with the flying stingarees or saucers?" + +"None at all," Rick answered. + +"Do you know where Calvert's Favor is?" Scotty asked. "The location +wasn't given in your books. There was quite a lot about the plantation +house." + +"No, never heard of the place. But we'll find out when we pass through +Cambridge. I know a man there who knows everything about this area." +Steve held out his hand. "Let's see your notebook." + +Scotty handed it over. The young agent leafed through it rapidly. +"That's some list. If I had any doubt that people were seeing things, +it's gone now. How are you going to arrange the data?" + +"In tables, and on a map," Rick explained. + +"Fine. We can do it tonight. Want anything else?" + +Scotty groaned. "I couldn't even drink a glass of water." + +"Same here," Rick agreed. + +"Then let's leave the crabs behind and take a ride." + +On the way back to Cambridge, Steve Ames mused aloud. "You know, it's an +odd world. A few years ago there were flying saucer reports by the +dozen. Each one was given lots of newspaper space. The Air Force +conducted investigations. Then flying saucers got unpopular, the Air +Force closed its project, and the newspapers wrote a funny story every +time a report came in. Now we have a rash of sightings in one small +area. People talk about it, but no one gets excited. The authorities +brush it off as just hokum. Yet, your investigation today shows that +people are seeing _something_, even if we don't know what." + +Rick nodded thoughtfully. "What's even odder is that a well-known man +disappears, people search for him for a couple of days, and then do +nothing but talk about it. The police aren't even interested, so far as +we can tell." + +Steve laughed. "You're right. But look at it in another way. Assume +you're the local policeman. Someone rushes in and tells you that Joe +Doakes has been carried off by a flying saucer. You don't believe in +flying saucers, but you know Doakes. You investigate. His boat has been +found, but his body is missing. What do you assume? That he was really +toted off by some mysterious object? Nope. You assume he was hurt or +killed falling out of the boat. You know that sharks come into the bay +and sometimes swim up creeks. You figure that the currents sometimes act +in odd ways, depending on the winds. You figure a dozen natural kinds of +things, none connected with mysterious flying objects. You call a +coroner's jury, and not a man on it is willing to say for the record +that he believes in flying saucers. What happens?" + +"Case closed," Scotty said slowly, "because the body isn't around. No +proof of death, or even of accident. Pending proof of death--meaning the +body--the jury finds that Joe Doakes is missing under mysterious +circumstances and may have met with death or an accident by misadventure +while engaged in his lawful business of crabbing." + +"That's about it," Steve agreed. "It isn't really odd when you look at +it that way. But you can bet the case isn't closed. It's just inactive, +until something turns up. Remember there's no detective squad in a small +town." + +There was a combination gas station and store on the outskirts of +Cambridge. Steve drove in and honked the horn. A young boy looked out of +the store and called, "Howdy, Steve. Want gas?" + +"Not tonight, Jimmy. Ask your grandfather where Calvert's Favor is +located, will you?" + +The boy came out of the store and walked toward the car. He was a +freckle-faced towhead, with a grin wider than the Choptank River. "Heck, +Steve, I don't have to ask gran'pop that. Everybody knows where +Calvert's Favor is located." + +"Not everybody," Steve returned. "I don't. How about letting us in on +the secret, Jimmy?" + +"It's no secret. Everybody around here knows it's located across the +river from you. It's at the head of Swamp Creek." + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +Sighting Data + + +Steve's living room was an excellent place to work. In fact, it was a +shade too comfortable. Rick and Scotty spent a half hour arguing over +who would do what in putting their data down on paper, and both knew +perfectly well that they were just stalling. + +Finally Rick said, "Let's admit it. We're both stuffed with crab, a +little sleepy, and too comfortable in these armchairs." + +Scotty waved a hand languidly. "All right. I concede the point." + +Steve Ames chuckled. "Suppose you move to less comfortable chairs. Those +dining-room chairs should keep you upright. Get to work and I will too." + +The boys hauled themselves to their feet reluctantly. Rick walked to the +door and looked out through the screen. He could see the creek +glistening, and, out beyond the dock where the houseboat and runabout +were tied up, he saw ripples spreading where a fish had jumped. The air +was still, and he could hear cicadas in the trees and shrubs. + +"This is the land of pleasant living," he observed. "I'm surprised +anyone on the Eastern Shore ever gets a lick of work done." + +"You certainly don't," Scotty retorted. "Come on over here and stop +admiring the scenery." + +Steve had produced large sheets of white paper, a ruler, and pencils. +Rick sat down. "I'll act as recorder." + +"Volunteering for the hardest job?" Scotty inquired. "The air must be +affecting you." + +"Nope." Rick shook his head. "I have just enough energy left to be +realistic. I can't read your writing. Suppose I put down the headings. +Location, date of sighting, time of sighting, direction of sighting, +number of persons who saw object. What else?" + +"Description," Scotty suggested. "Maybe that ought to be in two parts. +One for shape and one for color." + +Rick nodded. "Good idea. I'll rule lines as we go." He drew lines for +the columns, printed his headings, and put in the first several +horizontal lines. "Ready," he announced. + +"We'll start with the first one. Location: five miles south of Wye Mills +on Route 50." + +Rick printed: "5M S Wye Mls Rte 50." + +"Date of sighting, July 10. Time of sighting, between five and six in +the evening." + +Rick printed industriously. Scotty read from his notes until over twenty +lines of information had been printed on the chart. Then Steve +interrupted, bringing a tray of tall glasses of iced ginger ale. + +The young agent put the tray down and scanned the columns while the boys +helped themselves. In a moment Steve nodded. "There's a pattern taking +shape, at least in the descriptions. But I can't make much out of the +dates and locations, yet." + +"We'll keep plugging," Rick said. "Maybe we'll need to rearrange the +columns before they make sense." + +"You have a point," Steve agreed. "Use the chart for the source, then we +can fill out sheets on the individual items, or I have some +four-by-five-inch file cards that would be ideal." + +"But we'll be at it all night," Scotty objected. + +"I don't think so. Once the basic data are on paper, it will go fast. +Keep at it. Yell if you want refills on the ginger ale. I need to finish +my own homework." + +The boys returned to logging the data while Steve settled down with a +bulky report. In another hour the notebook had been exhausted, and the +big sheet of paper was nearly full of ruled lines and columns, recording +data. + +"We're done," Rick announced. + +Steve put his report aside and joined them at the table. The boys waited +expectantly while the agent scanned the sheet. + +"You've done a good job of collecting information," Steve said. "Now it +needs breaking down some more. The mixture in the 'color' column bothers +me. I have a hunch those colors may be related to the position of the +sun. Look." + +Rick watched as Steve's forefinger touched a line that showed the color +as "dark." The finger moved across the line to the time of day, eleven +A.M. Steve pointed to another line where the color was listed as +"orange." The time of day was seven fifteen P.M., with an additional +note of "twilight." + +"Got it," Scotty agreed. "You think the objects may actually be dark, +but appear in various colors depending on the position of the sun and +the position of the viewer." + +"It makes sense," Rick agreed. "All of the colors listed--red, orange, +silvery, bright--could be reflections of the sun on a smooth object." + +Steve walked to a bookshelf and pulled down a copy of _The World +Almanac_. "Sunrise and sunset times are listed in here. You can figure +out quickly enough where the sun was in relation to the observer. It +will take another sheet of paper and some more columns." + +"You gave us an extra sheet," Rick replied. "How should I head the +columns?" + +Steve thought for a moment. "Three columns for the position of the sun. +Rising, high, setting. Four columns for the position of the observer in +relation to the flying object--north, south, east, or west. One column +for color, and one for other comments such as 'shiny.' And, of course, +you want a column for the time." + +Rick recorded the data as Scotty read it off, checking _The World +Almanac_ for the sun's approximate positions. Steve was obviously +interested. He started to read his report again, then abandoned it and +came back to the table where the boys were working. + +When the data had been transferred, the three studied it. Rick ran his +eye down the columns quickly, getting an impression, then he went over +the data slowly. "You're right, Steve," he said finally. "It all +tallies, even at a quick look. In every case where the object looked +colored, the observer saw the sun striking it. Where it looked dark, the +object was between the observer and the sun. Or, at least, the observer +wasn't in a position to see the sun reflect off the object." + +Scotty added, "In every case where the object looked red or orange, the +sun was setting or had already set. In every case marked 'bright,' +'silvery,' or 'shiny,' the sun was high and the observer could see the +sun reflecting from the object." + +"It seems pretty clear," Steve agreed. "Now, we have only one really +close-range sighting, and that was Rick's. How sure are you that the +object was black?" + +Rick shrugged. "I know enough not to trust my eyes completely in wind +and rain. But there certainly wasn't any light to reflect off the +object, and I'm pretty sure it was either black or very dark brown." + +"That would fit all the sightings," Steve pointed out. "I'm assuming +that the objects have a smooth surface that reflects light, even though +the material may be dark colored. Didn't you suggest a kite made of dark +plastic? That would fit the bill, except that the objects don't act like +kites." + +"What do they act like?" Scotty demanded. + +Neither Steve nor Rick had an answer. + +"Let's try for another piece of information," Steve suggested. "Put the +dates down on cards. If you have sightings by different people on the +same dates, and at about the same times, put them on the same card. If +there's a big time discrepancy--say one sighting in the morning and +another in the afternoon--put them on different cards." + +Rick looked up. "What are you trying to find?" + +"Periodicity," Steve said promptly. "Is there any regularity in the +sightings? Do they occur every three, four, or five days, or once a week +on Mondays? Which reminds me. You might put down the day of the week, +too. There's a calendar on the wall behind you." + +"You read and I'll copy," Rick told Scotty. "Go ahead." He waited with +pencil poised over a card. In a moment he looked at his pal. "What are +you waiting for?" + +Scotty was poring over the notebook again. His eyebrows knit. "You know, +there's one chunk of data on just a few sightings that we didn't put +down because we didn't have a column for it." + +"What is it?" Steve asked. + +"I know!" Rick exclaimed. "There were a few times when people said they +saw yellow glows in the sky after they saw the objects. Isn't that it?" + +Scotty nodded. "I've been counting. There were five instances. Two +people said the glow wasn't really connected, because it came from +Wallops Island." + +"Why on earth didn't you include it in the chart?" Steve demanded. + +"It doesn't fit," Scotty replied. "In every single case, the glow was to +the southeast." + +"Maybe it does fit," Steve said emphatically. "Boys, never leave out a +bit of data because it doesn't seem to fit. This particular chunk could +very well be the clue." + +"Why?" Rick asked quickly. + +Steve shook his head. "I'm not sure, so I don't want to say. But include +every sighting of the yellow glow on the date cards. I'm going to borrow +that set for a closer look." + +Scotty began reading, while Rick recorded. When the cards were complete, +they ran through them. There was no periodicity. The dates seemed +completely random. Sometimes two sightings had been made at different +times on the same date. There would be two days, three, four, five, or +even six between sightings. + +"Not a trace of pattern," Rick said. + +"Who says stingarees have to fly on schedule?" Steve asked with a grin. +"They're not supposed to be like planes. What's the next step?" + +Scotty produced the map they had used. "One more job to do, and that's +to plot the locations of the observers and draw lines in the directions +of the sightings. That will show us if there's any regularity in the +place where the flying objects appear." + +"Very good," Steve approved. + +Scotty took pencil and ruler and laid the map out flat. "You read +location and direction, Rick, and I'll plot the data." + +"Okay." Rick began with the first. "Five miles south of Wye Mills on +Route 50. Direction, southwest." + +Scotty measured the distance from Wye Mills, using the map scale in +inches, then estimated the compass direction and drew a line. "Next." + +Rick read on. By the time he had reached the tenth sighting, all three +of them were waiting anxiously for each new bit of data to be plotted. + +Finally the job was complete. Steve had hurried off a moment before and +returned with a pair of compasses in his hand. As the boys watched, he +put the sharp point of one compass leg into a spot on the map, adjusted +the radius, and drew a perfect circle. He adjusted the radius again, and +drew a second circle, slightly larger, then a third. + +"Bull's-eye!" Rick said excitedly. + +The direction lines bisected the outer concentric circles like the radii +of an orb spider's web. In the center of the web was the smallest +circle. Within the circle was the focal point of all flying object +observations. + +Rick said the name aloud. + +"Swamp Creek!" + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +Calvert's Favor + + +There was a faint hint of coming daylight in the eastern sky when Rick, +Steve, and Scotty walked down the pier to the tied-up boats. The boys +had spent the night--or most of it--aboard the houseboat, until the +alarm pulled them from their sleeping bags at four o'clock. Steve had +breakfast cooking when they arrived at the farmhouse, and after coffee, +bacon, and eggs, they started on their mission. + +"Daybreak is the lowest peak of daily activity," Steve said as they +climbed into the runabout. He took the pilot's seat, while Rick and +Scotty prepared to cast off. + +"You might say that the first glimmer of daylight is man's worst hour," +Steve continued. "It's the time when battles start, when planes take off +for dawn bombing runs. I've read that it's the time when most deaths +occur in hospitals, although I don't know for certain that it's true. +What's more important to us, it's the time of day when guards are most +sleepy and least alert." + +The young agent had been working as he talked, checking the outboard +motor, checking the connections to the gasoline tank, and pumping +pressure into it. Now he pressed the starter and the well-kept motor +caught at once. Rick and Scotty cast off bow and stern lines and settled +themselves in the seat next to Steve. + +"Unless this mysterious Mr. Merlin suffers from sleepless nights, he's +deep in slumber. The sound of a small boat won't disturb him, because +he's used to the noise of motors from crabbers. We'll hope there is no +guard on the place. If there is, we'll be fishing. Better have the rods +ready. One of you can sit in back and troll from there." + +The outboard runabout moved away from the pier and into the creek. Steve +knew his way perfectly, and he opened the throttle to half speed, +steering through the curve at the mouth of the creek, rounding the buoy, +and heading directly toward Swamp Creek. + +It had taken the houseboat over twenty minutes to make the run. Steve +covered the distance in ten. As he throttled down and swung the runabout +into Swamp Creek, Rick's eye picked up a glimmer of light, then the +shape of something white cruising toward them. + +For a moment he stared into the lessening gloom, then said, "It's Orvil +Harris. Anyway, it looks like his boat." + +Steve said nothing for a moment, then he headed directly toward the +crabber. As the two boats closed, Harris paused in his crabbing and +watched the three in the runabout approach. + +Steve matched the crab boat's speed and nudged the runabout alongside. +"Howdy," he called. + +Orvil Harris reached out and caught the runabout's gunwale, then took +the line Rick passed to him. He made it fast around a cleat. "Up early," +he greeted them. "Come to watch me crab?" + +"Not exactly," Rick returned. "Mr. Harris, this is Mr. Ames." + +The crabber reached out a muscular hand and Steve stretched to meet it. +"Mighty pretty place you have on Martins Creek," Harris said. "Admired +it many's the time." + +"Thanks," Steve returned. "Be glad to have you drop in any time." + +"I may do that. Thanks." + +"The boys tell me your cousin was the one taken by a flying saucer." + +Harris grinned. "He was taken. I'm not sayin' how until I know." + +"What do you know about Calvert's Favor?" + +Harris rubbed his chin, and made a slight correction in the crab boat's +course. "Present owner is a man named Merlin. No one knows anythin' +about him, and no one asks. Has a big thug with him all the time, and +takes exception to people gettin' nosy. Most folks got snubbed and drew +back, so to speak. Jim Hardin--he's a fisherman hereabouts--took +exception and got beaten up. Hardin's not easy to lick. After that, +folks stopped speakin' to Merlin and company." + +"How big's the company?" Steve asked. + +"Merlin, bodyguard, a little squirt with no chin, and three others. +Cooks and bottle washers, likely. Would it be polite to ask why you're +interested?" + +Steve had been studying Harris since the two boats joined up, Rick knew, +so he wasn't surprised when Steve gave a direct reply. + +"You'll keep this to yourself, please. The boys have been doing a little +research, and it's clear these unidentified flying objects people have +been seeing come from Swamp Creek. That points to the old mansion, +especially since Mr. Merlin is so secretive about himself. We decided to +get up before the people at the mansion were likely to be about, and +look the place over. If it looks promising, we'll try keeping an eye on +it." + +Harris nodded. "I'll keep it to myself, you can be sure. If the mystery +of those flyin' stingarees gets solved, we may find out what happened to +Cousin Link. I'll help if I can." + +"You know these waters pretty well," Steve returned. "Is there any way +of getting to Calvert's Favor, or within watching distance, without +going up this creek?" + +The crabber reached over and turned a switch, cutting his engine. "There +is, for that boat you're in. About thirty yards downstream from the +entrance to this creek, there is a break in the line of swamp grass +along the shore. It's a little lead, a channel maybe six feet wide and +from two to three feet deep. It runs into the swamp. Right at the place +where the water gets too narrow for the boat, a man who didn't care if +he got muddy or wet could go through the brush to an old duck blind +right across from the mansion. A pair of good glasses would give him a +right good view of the whole thing." + +"We couldn't see the mansion from the boat?" Rick asked. + +"The brush is too thick. Tell you what, if you got ground tackle aboard, +drop a hook and come over with me. I'll run you up the creek and you can +take a good look. If anyone's out watchin', they'll only see a crab boat +lookin' for a place to set lines." + +"Scotty," Steve directed, "there's a grapnel on a line up on the bow, +under that small hatch. Toss it in, please." + +Scotty stood up on the seat, stepped to the bow, and found the small, +four-pronged anchor. He dropped it into the water, let out line, and +tied the line fast to the bow cleat. "Okay, Steve." + +The three got aboard the crab boat as Harris started his engine. "Make +yourselves comfortable," the crabber invited. "There's a pair of glasses +on the engine box." + +With the binoculars Rick and Steve had brought, that made three pairs +each. The crabber swung the boat around expertly and headed upstream. +The sky was light now, and far overhead a wisp of cirrus was glowing +pink, a warning of coming sunrise. + +Rick sat on the gunwale and looked ahead. The creek narrowed for a few +hundred yards, then widened again. The left bank, going upstream, was +lined with scrub and swamp grass. The right bank began to change, the +swampy area giving way to good ground that rose slightly from the +water's edge. Soon the right bank was nearly three feet above the water, +and the scrub had given way to an occasional tree, and some grassland +that hadn't been mowed this year. + +Then Calvert's Favor came into view and Rick caught his breath. It was a +stunning plantation house. The tall columns made Rick think of pictures +of the Old South, but as the boat turned slightly and more of the house +came into view, he saw that it had a strictly Maryland character. +Attached to the largest portion of the house, the one with the columns, +was a slightly smaller section, with a still smaller section completing +the picture. It was a "telescope house"--the kind that the Eastern Shore +natives referred to as "big house, little house, and one in the middle." + +A broad sweep of lawn, broken only by flagstone walks and trees, +extended from the creek's edge to the house. The trees were ancient +dogwoods, with a single huge willow for extra shade. There was a small +pier extending into the creek, and from the rotted pilings next to it, +Rick saw that the original pier had been much larger. + +A white barn stood at a short distance from the house. A barn of that +size, Rick thought, meant a pretty substantial farm. He searched for +signs of life and saw none. There was a boat, he noticed, an outboard +skiff perhaps fifteen feet long, pulled up on the bank under an oak tree +at the edge where the lawn met uncut field. A lawn table and chairs +under the big willow looked inviting, and he speculated that Merlin and +friends must spend considerable time there. Some of the chairs were of +the padded variety, covered with plastic wet from the morning dew. + +Scotty pointed to the roof of the mansion. "Must be a ham radio operator +there. Look at that hay rake." + +Both Rick and Steve had the same thoughts as they stared at the tall +antenna, with its cluster of small rods joining a single main bar at +right angles on top of the pole. The antenna might be needed for +fringe-area television--or, on the other hand, it might be a +communications antenna, as Scotty had said. + +"Looks interesting," Steve said. + +The creek flowed only a little distance past the mansion before it +became so narrow that Orvil Harris had to turn for the trip downstream. +As the crab boat came abreast of the mansion again, Rick looked to the +other side of the creek and saw the duck blind. It wasn't exactly +opposite the house, being designed so that gunners in the blind would +shoot diagonally across the creek and downstream, rather than near the +house itself. + +The blind was on stilts, made of board, with a big "picture window" +without glass through which duck hunters could fire freely. It was +designed for entry by boat, and there was a line of poles sticking up +from the water that marked the boat's docking place. In season, the +entire blind including the poles would be covered with a screen of fresh +foliage, so that hunters, blind, and boat would seem like a natural +object to any duck that flew by. + +Rick saw that the entrance, at the point where the boat would nose in, +was downstream from the mansion, at the back corner of the blind. Anyone +approaching from the swamp behind the blind could enter unseen from +Calvert's Favor. + +Not until they were back at the cove did any of them speak. + +"That antenna was odd," Steve said. "Did you ever see anything like it, +Rick?" + +"Not exactly," Rick admitted. "It could be for TV, although it's an +unusual design, or it could be some kind of ham rig, as Scotty said." + +"Or it could be something else," Steve concluded. + +"No sign of a flyin'-saucer launcher," Orvil Harris said. He was stoking +his battered brier. + +Rick grinned. "I wouldn't know one if I saw it." + +"Well, that wraps it up," Steve said. "Let's get aboard the runabout and +head home. I've got to make a plane." He shook hands with Orvil Harris. +"Glad to have met you after waving at you for so long." + +"Likewise. Now, you let me in on this if you can. I'm Link's only kin +hereabouts, so I feel responsible, so to speak. Call me up. I'm in the +phone book. I'll keep crabbin' in this creek until further notice, so +you can find me here until midmornin' any day." + +"We'll let you know if anything comes up," Rick agreed. + +Scotty borrowed a boat hook and pulled the runabout closer, then he +stepped to the forward deck while Steve and Rick got into the seat. +Scotty pulled up the grapnel while Steve started the motor. In a moment +they were waving to Harris as the runabout headed for home. + +It was full daylight now, and the rim of the sun was just above the +trees on the horizon. + +"Two items from the morning's work," Scotty summed up. "We know how the +mansion can be watched, and we have an odd kind of antenna. Anything +else?" + +"We have an ally," Rick reminded. "Orvil Harris." + +"We bought him on pure faith," Steve pointed out. "It isn't often I +stake the game on a man's face, but if Orvil Harris isn't a sound +individual, I'll lose my faith in human nature." + +Back at the farmhouse, Steve made fresh coffee and toast. While the boys +relaxed sleepily, he went to a closet and brought out a case and a +leather gadget bag. + +The boys sat up and watched while he opened the case. Rick gasped. It +was a telescope, a marvelously compact reflector type, precision made +and very expensive. Rick had often studied the ads of this particular +model, and he looked at it with some envy. He could hardly keep from +picking it up. + +Steve opened the gadget bag and brought out a Polaroid camera and set of +rings. Then he returned to the closet and brought back a sturdy tripod +with a geared head. + +"Here's the equipment," he said. He took the telescope from its padded +case, and screwed its base to the tripod, then he adjusted the tripod +until it was standing securely. + +"Watch this," he commanded. "You'll have to do it, because you can't +carry the whole thing assembled." + +Using the rings, which were adapters, he fitted the camera to the +eyepiece of the telescope. "That's all there is to it. You focus the +'scope eyepiece by turning this knurled knob. Then you set the camera to +infinity, adjust the iris for the proper light, and put the camera in +place. Any questions?" + +"What aperture?" Rick asked. "Normal exposure?" + +"Make it one f-stop less than you'd use if you were taking the picture +through a regular camera with a long lens. Anything else?" + +Scotty grinned. "It's pointless to ask what you want us to do with this. +We're to get pictures of that antenna--from the duck blind." + +"Plus anything else that looks interesting, including the occupants," +Rick added. + +Steve spread his hands in an expressive gesture. "What more could an +instructor want than students who know the answers before the questions +are asked? I won't even tell you to be careful, because I know you +will." + +"We will," Rick assured him. + +"All right. Listen, boys, we have no idea what we're up against, but we +do have some facts." Steve ticked them off on his fingers. "One, flying +objects originate at the mansion. There's no other place on the creek +that seems likely. Two, the house is inhabited by a man who doesn't like +questions. Three, said man has a bodyguard who gets rough. Four, one man +already is missing, perhaps because he got curious. Enough said?" + +The boys nodded soberly. + +"Then go to it, whenever you feel like it--after you've dropped me at +the airport, that is. Be here by four this afternoon. If I don't call, +meet the five-o'clock flight. If I do, it will mean I've gotten tied +up." + +Steve hesitated. "Just one more thing. Be _really_ careful. All I have +is a hunch, but that hunch tells me we're up against something +dangerous. If Link Harris is dead, as he probably is, there's a fair +chance he was murdered." + +The agent's keen eyes met theirs in turn. "Don't get into a spot you +can't get out of," he concluded. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +The Duck Blind + + +Orvil Harris had described the opening to the hidden waterway, but when +the boys examined the line of reeds and marsh grass there was no sign of +it. "He said thirty yards downstream," Scotty remembered. + +Rick was at the wheel of the runabout. "Climb out on the bow," he +suggested. "Take the boat hook with you. I'll just keep nosing in until +we find it." + +"Okay." Scotty took the short, aluminum boat hook from its fastenings in +the small cockpit, stood up on the seat, and stepped over the windshield +to the bow. For a moment he surveyed the shoreline from his higher +vantage point. "There's a place that looks promising." He held the boat +hook out like a spear, pointing. + +Rick put the runabout in gear, and moved forward at idling speed. +Looking over the side, he could see the bottom clearly. They were in +only two feet of water, and the outboard was stirring up mud at the +stern. + +"No good," Scotty called. "That one doesn't go anywhere. Try upstream +another six feet." + +Rick turned the boat, watching for the opening Scotty had spotted. He +saw it a moment later. "Looks too small," he called back. + +"I think it opens up. Go ahead slow." + +The runabout nosed up to the almost solid line of tall swamp grass, and +Scotty leaned forward. "I think this is it. Take it easy." + +The heavy grass rubbed on both sides of the boat, but nothing impeded +its progress. The runabout pushed through the brown-green swale until it +was almost enclosed by the grass. Then they were through, into a narrow +channel with high grass on both sides. It was hard for Rick to see ahead +because of the turns, and Scotty served as his eyes, motioning from one +side to the other as the channel shifted. + +Rick wondered if the sound of the outboard motor could be heard at the +mansion, and decided it probably could not. The heavy marsh grass was a +good sound baffle and the motor was relatively quiet. He leaned out, +trying to see ahead. There were many birds in the swamp, and next to the +boat a surprised snapping turtle looked up briefly, then scurried into +the mud for cover. + +The channel was narrowing now. Scotty looked back and drew his hand +across his throat in the old signal to "cut." Rick instantly killed the +motor. + +"I'll pole us," Scotty said softly. He began using the boat hook as a +pole, digging it into the bank and pulling the runabout ahead. Finally +he stopped, and wiped sweat from his face. "This is about as far as we +can go." + +Rick took a swipe at a black fly that bit him on the arm. "Okay. Let's +collect the gear and get started." + +Scotty tied the boat to a projecting root while Rick took the equipment +from its place under the seat and put it within reach on the forward +deck, then jumped ashore. His feet hit apparently solid ground, but kept +right on going down into a foot of ooze. + +He lifted one foot that was a black blob of mud, tried to locate more +solid footing on which to place it, and gave it up as a bad job. He +leaned over and took the telescope case and tripod. + +Scotty picked up the Polaroid camera and their binoculars and came +ashore, sinking into the swamp as Rick had done. He grinned wryly. +"We're up to our knees in this mystery already." + +Rick lifted a foot with five pounds of mud clinging to it. "If we get in +it up to our hips, we'll have a fine time getting out. How far do you +think it is to the duck blind?" + +"Maybe twenty-five yards. Not much more than that, maybe less. Come on." + +Slowly, because of the need to haul each foot out of the mud, the boys +started through the swale. The marsh grass was over their heads, forming +a thick screen. The grass, however, was no handicap to the biting flies. +Within a few seconds each boy was carrying equipment in one hand, using +the other to fight off the swarms. An occasional mosquito added to their +discomfort. + +The muddy ooze thinned, then gave way to higher ground. The marsh grass +was less thick and there was an occasional clump of willow. Rick studied +the terrain ahead, and in a moment caught sight of dark-green foliage +among the brown tips of swamp grass. In a few more feet he made out the +tops of trees, and then the glint of sunlight on the aluminum of the +antenna they had come to photograph. + +Scotty had seen it, too. He stopped and the boys consulted. + +"We're about twenty yards too far upstream," Scotty guessed. + +Rick estimated as best he could. "I think you're right. Let's stay on +high ground and head downstream a little. We must be almost there." + +Scotty turned and Rick followed, waving uselessly at the cloud of +insects. He was grateful for the advice Steve had given them to wear +long trousers and long-sleeved shirts. If they had been wearing shorts, +the insects would have had free access to several square feet of bare +hide. + +Both boys counted steps automatically, and after twenty paces +downstream, Scotty turned toward the mansion once more. They pushed +through the tall grass into thick mud, then into water with a deep muddy +bottom. A few more steps and the grass thinned. Scotty stopped and +motioned Rick back. They moved sideways, then forward again, and emerged +with the duck blind between them and Calvert's Favor. + +Rick thought to himself that it had been pretty good navigation, +considering that most of the journey had been blind, in grass over their +heads. Apparently Scotty thought so, too. He turned and gave Rick a big +grin, then headed for the rear of the duck blind. + +The water deepened, washing off some of the mud. Rick reached down and +splashed a handful on his face. It was warm. He saw a wet black head +emerge from under the duck blind and speed for shore. It was a startled +water rat. Alerted by the small splash of their coming, the rodent +decided to take better cover. Then they were at the corner of the blind +where the entrance was located. + +The floor of the blind was level with their chests. Rick looked in. +There wasn't much space, since the blind had been built to provide only +a place for hunters to sit, wait, and then shoot from kneeling or +sitting positions. + +Both boys put their equipment on the dry wooden floor. Then Rick swung +himself up and pushed the equipment back to make room for Scotty. For a +moment they sat on the floor, resting. Coming through the swamp had been +exhausting work. + +After a few moments' rest, Rick moved to the side of the duck blind and +found a small opening, a square window about six inches on a side, that +had apparently been made to give the hunters a view in that direction. +The opening was near the forward, upstream corner, and it looked out on +Calvert's Favor. + +Merlin the mysterious and his two close companions were sitting under +the willow tree enjoying something liquid from tall glasses. As Rick +watched, a fourth man, evidently a servant, brought a tray on which a +silver pitcher rested. The boy could see the trickles of water cascading +down the outside, and knew they were caused by moisture condensing on +the cold metal of the pitcher. He moistened his lips. A fine pair of +dunderheads, he and Scotty were. They had come without even a canteen of +water. + +"Easy shot," he whispered to Scotty. "Let's set up and take the +pictures, then get out of here. I'm getting thirsty just watching them." + +Scotty adjusted the tripod, while Rick took the telescope out of its +case with reverent hands. It was a beautiful and delicate piece of +equipment, Steve's personal property, and he appreciated the trust the +agent had placed in them by allowing its use. He fitted the instrument +to the mounting screw on the tripod, then aimed it through the six-inch +window. When he squinted through the eyepiece, he saw only willow +branches, but, by keeping his eye in place and cranking the geared +tripod head, he quickly aligned the telescope with the trio under the +willow. + +[Illustration: _Scotty fitted the camera to the telescope_] + +The telescope had a fixed focus, and was designed for looking at stars. +Consequently, the field of vision was extremely narrow at the short +distance across the water, and Rick could only manage to get Merlin and +his small, insignificant-looking companion into the frame. What's more, +they were upside down, as is common in reflecting telescopes. The boy +knew there was an erecting prism in the case, a device that would put +the image upright, but it couldn't be used with the camera. Anyway, it +wouldn't matter, since the print could be turned over. + +He studied the faces in the upside-down position. The telescope gave him +an even better close-up than at the restaurant. Again he groped for the +identity of the white-haired man, but it eluded him. + +Scotty tapped him on the shoulder and motioned that the camera was +ready. Rick moved aside and his pal quickly fitted the camera to the +telescope and tightened the mounting rings. Rick nodded to indicate that +the telescope was on target, and Scotty tripped the camera. + +The advantage of the Polaroid camera is that the picture can be seen +within seconds. Scotty quickly went through the simple routine, and +within a quarter of a minute the boys were looking at the photo. It was +an excellent close-up, but a trifle dark. Scotty opened the iris on the +camera another stop and Rick rechecked the alignment. Scotty snapped the +picture and processed it. This time it was perfect, only slightly hazy +because of the rising heat waves across the hundred yards of distance. + +Rick readjusted the telescope for a full view of the third man. His +picture was added to the others. Scotty wiped both with fixative and put +them on the floor to dry. + +The antenna was next. Rick focused on it without difficulty, but the +field of view was so narrow that he couldn't see all of it. They would +have to photograph it in two sections, then fit the prints together. + +Five minutes after their arrival at the duck blind, they were back in +the swamp, the pictures protected in a plastic bread wrapper Rick had +brought. They cut directly across the swamp and emerged, hot, sticky, +and dirty, only a few yards from the boat. They stowed the equipment +wordlessly, then poled backwards into the wider channel. It was too +narrow to turn, so Rick started the motor and backed out with great +caution. + +Once in the clear, they headed at top speed for Steve's, tied up at the +pier, and plunged into the water without even bothering to remove their +clothes. Their only precaution was to empty their pockets. + +Rick luxuriated in the coolness of clean water, then stripped to his +undershorts and threw his sodden clothes onto the pier. Only when he was +sure he had washed off the last of the clinging mud did he pull himself +up to the houseboat cockpit, Scotty following. + +They toweled and put on clean clothes, then carried the equipment back +to the farmhouse. Two bottles of Coke apiece from the refrigerator had +them feeling normal again. Over the last one, they studied the photos. + +"I don't think we've ever known Merlin," Rick said thoughtfully. "We've +seen him, but we don't know him." + +Scotty scratched a mosquito bite. "Think he might be some kind of public +figure?" + +Rick looked up sharply. "I think you hit it! If that's true, we should +be able to get him identified easily." + +"Steve could do it through JANIG," Scotty suggested. + +"It would take too long. He won't be home until tonight, and the picture +wouldn't reach JANIG until tomorrow. Then it would take a day to check +it out." + +"Are we in a hurry?" Scotty asked. + +Rick chuckled. "I am. But don't ask me why. Look, I'll bet Duke or Jerry +could identify it by going through the newspaper morgue." Their +newspaper friends were owner-editor and reporter for the Whiteside paper +back home. + +"They're on vacation," Scotty reminded him. Once each year, the paper +was turned over to a friend of Duke's, a former newspaperman turned +professor of journalism, who used the occasion to give some of his +students practical experience. + +That was true, Rick remembered. Neither Duke nor Jerry would be +available. Who else did they know who could help? Suddenly he snapped +his fingers. "I've got it! Ken Holt would help, if we could get the +picture to him." + +Ken Holt, the young newsman whose adventures were favorite reading for +Rick and Scotty, had once asked Spindrift for help, and Rick had given +him a set of pocket-size radio transceivers of the kind known as "The +Megabuck Network." + +"Sandy Allen is a photographer," Scotty pointed out. "He might know +these people." + +Rick took a chair next to the telephone and dialed the operator. "A +person-to-person call," he stated, "to Mr. Ken Holt, at the _Brentwood +Advance_, Brentwood, New Jersey." He put his hand over the mouthpiece. +"Let's hope he and Sandy aren't off on an assignment somewhere." + +Luck was on their side. Ken Holt was in, and he was delighted to be of +help. "Put the picture in the mail," the young reporter suggested. "If +you make it airmail, special delivery, we'll have it first thing in the +morning. With luck, we might even get it tonight. We'll phone you as +soon as we have an identification. Incidentally, the Megabuck units +worked like a charm, as I told you when I wrote. Thanks a lot." + +"Glad they were helpful," Rick replied. "We'll hurry to town and get the +picture in the mail right away." + +He hung up and nodded at Scotty. "We'll get the picture ready, and take +it to town when we go to pick Steve up. If we're a little early, the +letter probably will go out on the early evening plane to Washington." + +Scotty nodded. "What time is it?" + +Rick glanced at his watch. "Nearly three. We'll be ready to take off as +soon as Steve calls, or doesn't." + +"If he calls, that means he won't be back," Scotty reminded. + +"No matter. We'll go to town anyway, and have an early dinner." + +Rick had envelopes and letter paper on the houseboat. He wrote a brief +note to Ken, addressed the envelope, and printed AIRMAIL SPECIAL +DELIVERY on both sides, then enclosed the best picture of Merlin and +sealed it. Scotty spent the time on a small repair job, taping up the +neoprene gasoline hoses that carried fuel to the houseboat motors. By +the time he was finished, it was nearly four. The boys went into the +house to wait. + +Steve called on the dot of four. "Rick? ... Steve. I'm sorry, fellow. I +have a little more to do on this case, and I'll have to stay over. +Everything going all right?" + +Rick briefed him quickly on the day's events and Steve replied, "It +takes about half an hour for a letter to make the early evening plane. +Allow enough time." + +"We will," Rick assured him. "Anything new on the sighting data?" + +"Not yet. I sent the cards to the computing center, but they won't have +time to run the data through until tomorrow or the next day. Make +yourselves at home, and don't spend all your time on flying stingarees. +Get in some fishing and swimming." + +Rick assured him that they were enjoying the vacation and would try to +get in some fishing. He hung up and turned to Scotty. + +"He'll be in tomorrow on the same plane. He wants us to get in some +fishing." + +Scotty chuckled. "I thought he knew you better than that. Give you a +mystery to chew on and there's no room for anything else in that thick +Brantish skull." + +"We'll solve this one," Rick said confidently. "Then we'll fish." + +Scotty just grinned. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +Ken Holt Comes Through + + +Somewhere in the oak trees across the creek a cardinal sang his lovely +evening song. An osprey, etched in black against the dark blue of the +sky, whirled in lazy circles watching the water below. A muskrat +appeared briefly, his sleek head making a V of ripples in the calm +water. + +Rick and Scotty, sprawled comfortably in beach chairs on the lawn in +front of Steve's house, sipped the last of their iced tea, and watched +the movements and listened to the sounds in companionable silence. Both +boys, admitting that, for the immediate present, they were slightly +overdosed with rich food, had agreed to settle for a sandwich and iced +tea. A brief stop at a store en route back from the post office had +provided the necessities. + +Rick was physically relaxed, but mentally active. It was characteristic +of him that he never let go of a puzzle until he had found a solution, +or had tried all possibilities and been forced to admit defeat. He was a +long way from defeat at the moment. The case of the flying stingaree was +just getting interesting. + +"What are the flying stingarees?" he asked quietly. + +Scotty shifted position in his chair and looked at Rick quizzically. +"You don't expect an answer. But I can tell you a few things they are +not." + +"Tell away," Rick urged. + +"They are not flying saucers, aircraft, kites, sting rays, birds, fish, +or good red herrings. Beyond that, deponent sayeth not, as the legal +boys say." + +"Uh-huh. And why are they not flying saucers?" + +"For the same reason they're not aircraft. If you recall all the talks +with people who've seen them, they don't maneuver, and they don't travel +very fast. They appear--or they're noticed, let's say--and they just get +smaller and smaller until they vanish. They move, but not much." + +Rick nodded. "The circle we drew around all the sightings doesn't cover +a very large territory. All the sightings have been within that circle. +People had to look toward Swamp Creek to see the objects. Yet, they did +something interesting. They grew smaller. What makes things seem to grow +smaller?" + +"Apparent size decreases with distance," Scotty replied promptly. + +"Sure. And how do you get distance, when the sightings are all within a +circle only a few miles in diameter?" + +"Only one way. With altitude. The things had to be going up." + +Rick agreed. "That's how I figure it, too. It also explains why the +circle of sightings is so small. Above a certain altitude, the objects +are no longer visible. Or they're not so visible that they attract +attention. I suppose we could work out some calculations. How large an +object can be seen readily at what distance? Then we could apply a +little trigonometry and figure their size." + +"We could," Scotty agreed, "but do we need to? Let's assume the object +you saw was typical. How big was it?" + +Rick thought it over. He had had only a quick glimpse, and the +background had been the gray of the storm. His vision had been obscured +because of the rain. "Maximum of ten feet across and maybe eight tall. +It was probably less." + +"Okay. So the reason sightings are confined to this area is because the +objects are fairly small. When people see them, they're relatively +close, and fairly low. Even the small planes that fly from the airfield +are much bigger than the flying stingarees, but when the planes go over +at about five thousand feet, they seem tiny. At that altitude the flying +stingarees must be at the limit of really good visibility." + +"I read you loud and clear. So the objects are sent from Calvert's +Favor, and they climb. They don't climb straight up, though. The wind +carries them. The reason I think so is that the one I saw must have been +driven by the wind, right down the creek toward me. It didn't climb +until it got away from the funneling effect of the creek and into the +river, then it went up pretty fast. At least it seemed to have risen +fast when I looked over the top of the boat at it." + +Scotty crunched an ice cube. "We're getting somewhere. There's only one +kind of unpowered, vertical rising thing I know of. Are you with me?" + +Rick finished his drink. "Balloon," he said crisply. + +"On the beam," Scotty approved. "The only thing that doesn't fit is the +shape." + +Rick asked, "What's a balloon? It's just a gas-tight container. We're +used to thinking of balloons as spheres, because it's the most efficient +shape for internal pressure. But a balloon can be any shape. Another +thing--balloons for high altitudes aren't fully inflated on the ground. +Maybe the flying stingarees have a different shape when they get higher +and in less dense atmosphere where the gas distends them." + +"An odd shape could be used as camouflage, too, if you didn't want +people to recognize the balloon. But why would a strange assortment of +characters like Merlin and company send up balloons?" Scotty wondered. + +Rick smiled. "I've been wondering that myself. Would they send up a +balloon that didn't carry something?" + +"I don't know. Was the one you saw carrying anything?" + +Rick sat upright. "Maybe it was! You know, I haven't even thought of it +since then, but I think there was a splash when it went by. Something +sort of clanged off the rail over me, even if it didn't dent the rail. +Do you suppose the thing dropped its payload right next to us?" + +"You'll have to decide that," Scotty said. "If you heard something +bounce off the rail, then a splash, I'd say there might be a pretty good +chance that's what happened. I couldn't see any marks on the rail when +we looked." They had checked the rail during the first day at Steve's. + +Rick closed his eyes and made himself remember what it had been like +when he went down the catwalk to the bow. His mind drew a picture, and +he saw himself bent forward into the wind. In his memory he felt the +slashing rain, the slipperiness of the wet anchor line. He could +visualize the water whipped into dimpled wavelets by wind and rain. He +saw the flying stingaree loom, and saw himself dropping flat. There had +been a clang as something hard hit the rail! There _had_ been a splash! + +He went over it again, searching his memory for details he had forgotten +or which had only registered vaguely at the time. He studied the shape +and texture of the object he had seen so briefly. He saw its red eyes +open and glare at him, saw the extended claws reaching.... + +He came out of his chair with a yell, arms extended to defend himself. + +Scotty stood next to him in the darkness. "Hey, take it easy, Rick! I +didn't think I'd startle you so when I shook you." + +Rick stared. "Did I fall asleep? I must have. I was trying to remember, +and suddenly I was dreaming about red eyes and claws--" + +Scotty laughed softly. "If you've got to have nightmares, at least do it +in comfort. Let's go to the boat and go to bed." + +Rick dreamed no more of the flying stingarees. In the morning he +couldn't have said what his dreams had been about, except that they had +been pleasant. + +In the bright glare of morning, the whole thing seemed dreamlike. It was +preposterous to imagine that flying objects, probably balloons shaped +like stingarees, were launched from a famous mansion that dated back to +the days of the early Maryland colony. But the sighting data couldn't be +ignored. Dreamlike or not, something strange was going on at Calvert's +Favor. + +The boys breakfasted in the farmhouse, reducing Steve's supply of eggs +substantially and wiping out the bacon reserve. "We'll have to shop +sometime today," Rick observed. "Steve has plenty of food here, but we +don't want to use it when there's a store so close." + +"Sure," Scotty agreed. "But when? It may have to wait until we go after +Steve. We can't very well leave the house, or at least both of us can't. +Ken Holt might call." + +Rick nodded and poured himself a cup of coffee. He had thought of that. +They had to give Ken time to get the picture and check it out. By the +latest, they should hear before noon--unless the job turned out to be +very difficult. That would leave four hours before they would have to +leave the house to pick up Steve. Four hours was time enough for the +investigation Rick had in mind. + +After breakfast they settled down with the data sheets and notebook to +review them once more. But only one additional fact emerged. Two people +thought, but weren't absolutely sure, that they had seen a spurt of fire +from the flying stingarees. Rick wondered if they had seen a sudden +flare of sunlight from some highly reflective part of the object. + +It was two minutes before nine when the phone rang. Both boys jumped, +but Rick got there first. "Hello?" + +"Rick? ... This is Ken. Why don't you give us something hard to do? The +envelope arrived three minutes ago, and I was just taking the picture +out when Sandy walked in. He took one look and asked what I was doing +with a snapshot of Lefty Camillion. The hair is white and the mustache +is gone, but it's Lefty." + +Rick gasped. "My sainted aunt! Of course! I should have known it +myself." + +"There's more. Sandy recognized Lefty's small friend too. This is an odd +one, Rick. The man is Dr. Elbert K. Drews. He was fired six months ago +by Space Electronics Industries. It was a big story for us, because the +plant is located in the next town. The reason he was fired came out +during the monopoly investigations. Turned out he had been selling the +firm's industrial secrets to its competitors. It was a shock, because he +had such a big reputation as an electronics wizard. He got some kind of +national prize a year ago for developing a new high-speed system for +something. Let's see--here's my note. It says, 'Dr. Drews was the +originator of a new and unusual system for the rapid telemetry of data +from space. The system is considered remarkable for its compactness and +speed of operation. The ground installation is scarcely larger than a +console-model television set.' Hope that means something to you, Rick." + +"Thanks a million, Ken. It seems to fit, but I'm not sure how." + +"Let us know if you find out. And if we can do anything else, you know +the phone number." + +"We'll call if anything comes up. Thanks again, Ken." + +Rick hung up and stared at the phone thoughtfully, trying to fit this +new information into the scheme of things. Scotty had been sitting on +the edge of his chair since the conversation started. He said, with some +exasperation, "Well? Out with it!" + +"Mr. Merlin is Lefty Camillion. His pal is an electronics wizard who was +fired by Space Electronics Industries for selling industrial secrets to +the firm's competitors." Rick rapidly sketched in the rest of the +conversation. + +Scotty sank back into his chair. "His hair was black, and now it's +white. He must have been keeping it dyed, and decided to go natural. And +he shaved off that mustache. Probably that was dyed black, too." + +"You're right." Rick shook his head in dismay. Lefty Camillion, whose +first name was Thomas, was a notorious crime syndicate leader who had +come into prominence about two years ago during Senate investigations of +racketeering. In three days Camillion had become a television +personality, of sorts, when it became clear that he apparently was +responsible for a number of murders and a thousand lesser crimes, +although he himself had not done the actual killings. There was +insufficient evidence to jail him, but enough to deport him. He dropped +out of sight while his lawyers were fighting the deportation +proceedings. Now he had shown up again, on the Eastern Shore. + +"A crime syndicate chief, a crooked scientist, flying stingarees, an old +mansion, a peculiar antenna, and a missing crabber. What does it add up +to?" Rick demanded. + +Scotty shrugged. He didn't answer. There was no answer--yet. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +On the Bottom + + +There were three wooden cases stored in the full-length closet in the +houseboat cabin. Rick and Scotty took the two bulkiest to the cockpit +and opened them to disclose full skin-diving equipment. The boys had +made the cases themselves, to be carried like suitcases. Each held a +single air tank, regulator, mask, fins, snorkel, underwater watch, depth +gauge, weight belt, equipment belt, and knife. The third case contained +spears and spear guns, but they wouldn't need those in searching for the +object that had splashed near the houseboat. + +While Rick checked the equipment, made sure there was sufficient air in +the tanks, and put on the regulators, Scotty searched for a heavy stake +and something with which to drive it. He found a sledge hammer in +Steve's workshop. At the edge of the woods was a pile of saplings that +had been cut to make a fence. He chose a sapling that would serve as a +stake and took it back to the boat. + +One of the spare lines that the houseboat carried was quarter-inch +nylon. Scotty fastened one end of the small rope to the sapling, about +halfway up, and secured it with a timber hitch. Then he wound the rope +on the sapling as smoothly as possible. + +Rick finished checking the equipment and announced that he was ready. + +"Same here," Scotty replied. "Let's get into swim trunks." + +As the two changed, Rick asked, "Suppose we find something, but can't +get it up without help? How do we mark the place?" + +Scotty paused. Normally they would simply attach a line to a float and +secure the float to the object. But a float would attract attention. +"Take bearings?" + +Rick shook his head. "The boat will be swinging at anchor. It might be +hard to get good bearings. Would a piece of fish line work? We could tie +it to the object, carry it to the shore, and secure it to something +underwater. The line would sink. Later, we could just drag until we +caught the line." + +"It would work," Scotty agreed. "There's a new spool of heavy line on +the shelf in the closet. Fifty yards. That should do." + +"Especially since the most we would need is fifty feet," Rick agreed. +"I'll stick it in a belt pocket, just in case." + +Back on deck, Rick started the houseboat's outboard motors and listened +critically. They were operating smoothly. Scotty walked up the pier and +untied the bowline. At Rick's signal, he stepped aboard on the foredeck, +bringing the line with him. Rick cast off the stern line, pushed the +houseboat away from the pier, then put the motors in gear. + +The trip to Swamp Creek was a familiar one now. Rick cut corners, +knowing he had enough water under the keel, heading directly for the +creek entrance. Scotty came back to the cockpit and joined him. + +"Do you suppose Orvil Harris will be around?" + +Rick shrugged. "It's pretty late for a crabber. He's probably gone by +now." + +"I wonder if he'll ever see any flying stingarees come out of the +creek." + +Rick shook his head. "Most of the sightings are in the late morning or +late afternoon. Only a couple were around dawn." + +While the houseboat moved across the Little Choptank, Scotty checked the +tide tables. He reported that the tide was coming in. It was about one +hour from high tide. Rick had been studying the chart. "No problem," he +said. "Mean low water averages four feet in the cove, with seven feet in +the middle. Think your stake will be long enough?" + +Scotty had placed the sapling with its winding of rope on the cabin top. +He estimated its length again. "Depends on how deep the mud is. If it's +more than three feet, the top of the stake will be under water." + +"Three feet is a lot of mud," Rick said. "It's likely a lot less than +that." + +He turned into the creek mouth, throttling back. It would be hard to +anchor precisely where the houseboat had been anchored that first night, +but he was sure they could find the spot within twenty feet. Scotty went +up on the bow and got the anchor ready. + +"Use about thirty feet of line," Rick called. He took the houseboat to +the exact center of the cove, as closely as he could estimate, then put +the motors in reverse to kill the speed. When it fell to zero, he yelled +to Scotty. Scotty lowered the anchor and made it fast, then hurried back +to join Rick, who backed off until he felt the anchor dig in. + +It was silent in the cove with the motors off. "I'll start," Rick +offered, and at Scotty's nod he picked up his Scuba and slipped into the +harness. His weight belt was next, then his fins. Finally he slipped the +mask strap over his head, and put the mouthpiece in place. He took a +couple of breaths to make sure he was getting air, then walked to the +edge of the cockpit and fell backward into the water, letting his tank +take the shock of landing. He slipped the mask off, took the mouthpiece +out, and spat into the mask to prevent fogging, then he rinsed it, put +it on, and replaced the mouthpiece. + +Scotty had taken the sapling from the cabin top. He handed it to Rick, +who dove with it, thrusting the sharpened end into the mud far enough so +that the sapling stayed in place. + +Rick surfaced again and swam to the boat, which had drifted a few feet. +Catching the leg of one motor, he pulled the boat back to where the +sapling projected above the surface. He held the boat in position while +Scotty took the sledge and drove the sapling down until its top was only +a few inches above the water. Rick tested the pole. It was firm. + +He removed the mouthpiece, treading water. "Looks okay. I'm going to +start." + +"Good luck," Scotty called. + +Rick submerged and swam down, using the pole as a guide. The rope, +attached to the pole, was perhaps two feet above the bottom. He freed +the end of the rope, unwound a few feet, slipped the end through his +belt, and secured it with a slip knot. Then, hands extended, he began +the slow work of covering the cove bottom inch by inch, searching for +the thing that had splashed. + +The boy swam in an ever-widening circle, the rope unwinding from the +sapling as he moved. The unwinding of the line, which he kept taut, +ensured that he would cover new ground each time he rounded the pole, +but without missing any. He couldn't see, because his hands stirred up +mud as he traveled. Only his sense of touch told him what was on the +bottom. He wasn't afraid of grabbing a crab or an eel. All underwater +creatures with any mobility at all get out of the way as fast as +possible. He knew the compression wave caused by his movement would warn +all living creatures. + +His groping hands identified various pieces of wood, all natural, and +assorted other objects including an old tire. There were cans, some of +them food tins that had been opened, and some beverage cans, +recognizable because of their triangular openings. Once he found a +section of fishing pole. + +It was a long, tedious job. The world closed in on Rick and there was +only the murk outside his mask and the rhythmic sound of his own +breathing. Only his hands, constantly probing the mud, were in touch +with reality. He lost all sense of time. Once, to see how much ground he +had covered, he pulled himself to the pole by the line, estimating his +distance. He was about fifteen feet from his starting point. He returned +to the full extent of the line and started the round again, after +looking at his watch. He had to hold it close to see the dial through +the murk. He had been down only twenty minutes, although the time seemed +much longer. + +Ten minutes later his hand swept over something smooth. Instantly he +turned in toward the pole, and swam back around the circle for perhaps +ten feet. Then, covering the ground again by crawling along the bottom, +he felt for the object. His fingers touched it. His first impression was +of something cylindrical, but he made no attempt to pick it up. He +needed to explore it thoroughly, first. His breathing was faster, and he +knew his pulse had accelerated at the moment of discovery. If this +continued, he would use air too fast. He willed himself to slow his +breathing, and for a few seconds he stopped altogether. + +In that instant, Rick heard a slap on the water, then another. He +waited, holding his breath. There was a pause, then more gentle slaps. +He counted them. + +One, two, three, four--the signal for danger! + +He and Scotty had long ago agreed that four sounds underwater would be +the danger signal. He reacted instantly. The fishing line was in a +pocket on his equipment belt. He took it out and pulled line from the +spool. Then, probing deeply with one hand, he pushed the line under the +smooth object, reached across and down with the other hand. When his +hands met, he passed the line from one to the other and pulled the line +through. Now it was around the object. He tied the line quickly, then +rolled over on his back and looked upward at the surface. He could gauge +the position of the sun, even though he could see no details. Using the +rays filtering through the murk as a guide, he oriented himself. + +"Which bank?" He thought quickly. Danger could only come from the +mansion, and that was on the south bank. He turned and swam north, going +slowly, paying out line from the spool. Now that he was traveling in a +straight line, he covered the bottom quickly, and in less than a minute +he was in shallow water. He stopped, afraid that his tank would show +above the surface. + +It was clearer in the shallows. He made out the line of a branch, or +root of some kind that thrust its way through the surface. It would +serve. Quickly he passed the spool around it and made a knot, then he +pushed the spool itself into the mud and turned. + +Now to find the boat again. Cruising slowly, he headed in the general +direction, rising slightly as he swam. Finally, he found the boat by its +shadow and swam under it to the stern. Again orienting himself by the +sun, he made sure that the boat would be between him and the south bank. +He surfaced and pulled off his mask. + +Scotty was swabbing the deck of the cockpit as casually as though +trouble was the last thing on his mind. Rick wondered briefly if he had +imagined the danger signal, or had mistaken some other sound for a +signal. Then Scotty hailed him. + +"Where are all the clams?" + +Rick's mind raced. Obviously someone was listening. Was the someone on +the boat, or ashore? + +"I only found one," he called back. "I don't believe there are enough in +this cove to bother about, no matter what those fishermen said." + +"Did you dig deep enough?" Scotty asked. + +"As deep as I could without a shovel. The mud is two feet thick down +there." + +"Well, you might as well come aboard. I guess if we're going to have +clam chowder, we'll have to buy clams from a commercial boat." + +Scotty wouldn't invite him aboard if there was any danger, Rick knew. He +accepted the hand Scotty held down and got aboard. + +He surveyed the situation quickly. There was no sign of any danger. + +"Pretty murky down there?" Scotty asked. + +"Like swimming in ink." + +"We'll try again out in deep water. It should be clear near the river +mouth." + +"Suits me," Rick said. "I never did think we'd find clams in this cove. +The mano boats dredge in deeper water than this." + +"Maybe the fishermen didn't want us stirring things up where they clam. +Come on in and I'll fix you some coffee. I made it while you were down +below." + +"Okay." + +Once inside the cabin, Scotty said softly, "Two men. On the shore. One +is the bodyguard. I've never seen the other one before. Both of them +have rifles." + +Rick considered. "They couldn't possibly know the thing--whatever it +is--dropped in the water here. Or could they?" + +"I don't know. Anyway, they're suspicious. Did you find anything?" + +"Just as you signaled. How did you signal, by the way?" + +"With the mop pail. Four taps with the bottom on the water surface. Then +I filled the pail and began swabbing down." + +Rick nodded. "I don't know what I found. A cylinder, maybe two inches in +diameter, maybe less. Smooth. I got the fish line around it and carried +the line to the shore. We'll have to come back later." + +"We certainly will." Scotty's eyes sparkled. "But for now, let's up +anchor and get out of here." + +"How about the stake with the rope on it?" + +"The tide's still coming in. It will be completely under the water at +high tide. We'll have to avoid it, and warn Harris if we don't get back +tonight." + +An idea was beginning to form in Rick's mind. "Okay," he said. "Let's +get going." + +Within minutes the houseboat was on its way out of the cove, the two +boys acting normally, as though no one was observing their departure. +Rick saw no one on shore, and not until they were sunward from the cove +entrance did he see the sparkle of sunlight on binocular lenses. Scotty +had been right, as usual. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +Night Recovery + + +On the way back from the airport, Steve Ames listened intently to the +report of the day's activities, but delayed comment until supplies had +been purchased, and a dozen eggs turned into an omelet that a French +chef might have praised. + +Rick was eager to discuss the whole affair with Steve, but the young +agent was adroit at fending off questions without being rude, and +finally the boy gave up. + +Over after-dinner coffee, Steve smiled at both of them. "End of today's +lesson in patience, which is one virtue neither of you has developed +sufficiently. Okay, where are those two pictures?" + +Scotty whipped them from the breast pocket of his shirt and handed them +over without comment. Steve studied them for long minutes, then went to +a table and took a magnifying glass from the table drawer. He placed the +pictures directly under a lamp and studied them with the aid of the +magnifier. + +"It _is_ Thomas Camillion," he said finally. "Your friend Sandy Allen +has a sharp eye. I wouldn't have known him, either." + +That surprised Rick. Steve had never met the owner of Calvert's Favor, +but because of Camillion's notorious reputation, Rick had been certain +that Steve would recognize him on sight. + +Steve saw the expression on Rick's face. He grinned. "You disappointed? +First of all, my knowledge of Camillion is not greater than yours. I've +never seen him in person, or had any reason to study him. Crime isn't +JANIG's business. Second, one expects to see a duck near water, or a +squirrel near a tree. Criminals are generally found near centers of +crime. They're not common in historic mansions, far from large +population centers, so one doesn't expect to find them there. My reasons +for not recognizing Camillion, without Allen's identification, are +exactly the same as yours." + +"It's just that we expect you to know everything," Scotty said +half-seriously. + +"Then I'm glad you're learning better. Joking aside, it's interesting +that Camillion should be here. It's even more interesting that his +sidekick is a crooked electronics engineer or scientist. When you add +flying stingarees to that combination, it totals up to something novel +in criminal ideas. But what?" + +"We thought you might have an idea," Rick prodded. + +"Yes and no," Steve said ambiguously. "What ideas do you have?" + +Rick stared at him accusingly. "Are you holding out on us? Do you know +something we don't?" + +"Not yet," Steve said, and grinned at their expressions. "I mean that +literally. I think I may possibly know something, but the evidence isn't +in yet. It's that computer run I mentioned. We should have the results +tomorrow." + +"All right," Rick said. He knew better than to push Steve for more +information. The agent went in for speculation only when it served a +purpose. With only a hint of evidence, he avoided guessing until the +evidence had been checked out. "We figured out that the flying +stingarees probably are balloons," Rick reported, recapitulating their +conclusions of the previous evening. + +Steve nodded approvingly. "Very good reasoning. Now connect up an +electronics crook, Camillion, and that peculiar antenna." + +"The balloons carry radio equipment," Scotty said promptly. "The antenna +picks up their signals." + +Steve nodded again. "That's reasonable. Now, why do the balloons carry +radio equipment? And why are they launched?" + +"We're like a dog chasing his tail," Rick said with a grin. "We're not +getting anywhere, but we're covering plenty of ground." + +"Maybe we are getting somewhere," Steve corrected. "You found something +today that may be the balloon payload. You also found out that people +from the mansion were interested in your activities, but didn't want to +be seen. It's obvious that the object you found must be recovered. +You've got a plan. I'm sure of it." + +"We do," Rick agreed. + +Scotty added, "First of all, we have to warn Orvil Harris. If he goes +crabbing in the middle of the night, he might foul a prop on the stake +we left there." + +"The people in the mansion can't be suspicious of Orvil," Rick went on. +"He goes crabbing there every day. They must be used to him by now. +Suppose we call him, to warn him about the stake, and to see if he'll +help out." + +"He'll be glad to help," Scotty said. + +"Help how?" Steve asked. "By providing cover?" + +Rick nodded. "Exactly. Scotty and I will suit up, so our skins won't +show at night, and have our Scuba equipment on. Harris could come by and +take the runabout in tow with us in it. We would drop off near the creek +entrance and push the runabout into the channel where it would be +hidden. Then we would swim into the cove and recover the object. With +two of us, it would be a cinch to find the fish line." + +"If the thing is too heavy to swim with," Scotty went on, "we'll hand it +into Orvil's boat. Of course we'll pull up the sapling and hand that to +Orvil. If the gadget is light, we'll swim back to the runabout with it, +push the runabout away from the cove into the river, and then get aboard +and come home." + +Rick concluded, "With Orvil's motor going, no one would hear our +bubbles." + +Steve had followed the plan carefully. "Fair enough," he agreed. "It's a +good plan. No one will see you enter the cove, and no one will see you +leave. There will be only Orvil Harris catching crabs as usual." + +Scotty spoke up. "We could make one change, Steve. You could be with us, +either in the water or in the runabout." + +Steve shook his head. "No thanks, Scotty. I have some business of my own +later tonight. You carry out your plan and I'll carry out mine." + +"Is your business connected with ours?" Rick asked. + +"Yes, but I'm going to follow a different line of investigation. If it +brings results, we'll compare notes at breakfast." + +"We could postpone recovery and help you tonight," Scotty suggested. + +Steve smiled warmly. "Thanks, but no thanks. What I have to do is for a +lone hand. Rick, you phone Orvil Harris and make arrangements." + +Rick consulted the telephone directory and turned to Steve. "Any chance +the line may be bugged?" + +"I doubt it. You might ask Orvil if he's on a party line, though. If he +is, be careful. If not, go ahead and talk." + +Orvil Harris had a private line, so Rick described their adventure in +the cove and asked for the crabber's help. Harris responded at once, as +the boys had known he would. + +"I'll come by at half past three. You hook on and I'll tow you to the +mouth of the creek, then you cut loose. We'll fix up the details when I +see you." + +Rick thanked him and hung up. "All set," he reported. "But we'll get +little sleep tonight." + +"It's only about eight," Steve pointed out. "You could go to bed right +away." He managed to say it with a straight face. + +"We could," Scotty agreed. "But we won't. How about a little television +tonight?" + +Steve waved a hand. "Take your pick. Medical drama, crime drama, western +drama." + +"The purpose of television drama," Rick declared, "is to provide an +escape from the real world into the world of fantasy. So no crime drama +for us because that's the real world. We will watch a medical-type +show." + +"Western," Scotty said. "Trot-trot, bang-bang." + +"Medical." Rick held out a hand dramatically. "Scalpel! Sponge! Quick, +nurse, tighten the frassen-stat! The patient is going into nurbeling +aspoxium!" + +"Western." Scotty crouched, hand curved at his thigh. "Make your play, +Brant!" + +"Medical." Rick tapped an imaginary stethoscope on his palm. "I regret +that you have all the symptoms of thickus headus, Mr. Scott." + +Steve held up both hands. "Whoa, Mr. Scott. You too, Dr. Brant. As the +only impartial participant, I will select. We will improve your minds by +finding a panel show about the problems of agriculture in Basutoland." + +The boys groaned. + +It turned out to be an entertaining TV evening, with one good show +following another, and the late show an exciting sea adventure filmed +many years before the boys were born, but one of their favorites from +other late-night movies. The three had no intention of staying up to +watch it, but lingered for the first reel--and were lost. + +It was the same with the late, late show, a horror movie so badly done +that it served as a new type of comedy. By this time, all were too tired +to go to bed, and by mutual consent, they watched the program to the +end, then rallied in the kitchen for sandwiches and coffee. + +By the time the boys had retired to the houseboat, checked their +equipment, and climbed into diving suits of black neoprene with helmets +and socks, Orvil Harris was coming down the creek. + +Scotty checked the runabout outboard to make sure it would start easily +and that there was plenty of gas, while Rick put their tanks and +regulators aboard. Then, with a final farewell to Steve, the boys got +aboard Orvil's boat, secured the runabout to the stern, and started off. + +On the way to Swamp Creek, Rick and Scotty described their plan to the +crabber. Harris slapped his thigh. "Now we're gettin' somewhere. You +just lay the pole and rope up on the gunwale as I go by, and leave the +rest to me. If the thing on the bottom is too heavy, I can pull it in. +Got a line to put on it?" + +Rick admitted they had forgotten that detail. "We can cut a length off +the pole line." + +"No need. Plenty of short lengths in that rope locker behind you. Take +what you need." + +The boys each selected a ten-foot length of half-inch nylon rope, +sufficiently long for hauling the object up, if need be. + +Harris asked, "Sure you can find your way underwater in the dark?" + +"We have wrist compasses with luminous dials," Scotty explained. + +"Good. Any danger of you comin' up under me?" + +"No. We'll see the white bubbles from your prop. They'll be +phosphorescent." Rick pointed to the crab boat's wake. Thousands of tiny +bay creatures, most of them almost invisible bits of jelly, flashed blue +white as the prop disturbed them, so that the wake twinkled as though +studded with stars. + +They fell silent as Harris crossed the Little Choptank, the steady beat +of his motor nearly lost in the darkness. Rick could not make out +details or landmarks, but Harris knew the way as well as he knew the +inside of his own boat. Rick enjoyed the coolness of the night, and even +the heavy scent of the salted eel the crabber used as bait. + +Harris tapped each boy on the shoulder in turn, and pointed. They could +barely make out the entrance to the creek. They nodded, and shook hands, +then Rick pulled the runabout towline and brought the smaller boat to +the crabber's stern. Scotty stepped aboard and held out a hand. Rick +joined him, casting off as he embarked. In a moment they were adrift. + +It took only five minutes to get their tanks in place, put on fins, and +go through their routine of checking weight belt releases, making +certain that the emergency valves were in the "up" position on the +tanks, and ensuring that regulators were operating smoothly. Rick +slipped into the water with only a small splash, and Scotty followed. +They took the runabout's bow rope and swam easily and quietly. + +There was no hurry. Orvil Harris would need a little time to put out his +lines. He would avoid the pole they had placed; its top would be above +water at this stage of the tide. + +Scotty led the way to the opening into the small waterway through which +they had gone to the duck blind. He found it without difficulty, and for +the thousandth time Rick marveled at his pal's sure sense of position +and direction, even in darkness. The boat was pushed backward into the +opening and tied to a root. + +Rick rinsed his mask, put it on, and slid noiselessly under the water. +Scotty followed in a direct line, letting Rick pick the course, and +following by the feeling of Rick's flipper wash on his cheeks. + +It was like swimming in ink. Rick kept his hands out in case of +unexpected underwater objects, but forged ahead at a good speed. He kept +track of his own rate of progress through the water by timing the number +of flutter kicks per minute. At the count of fifty he turned to the +left, heading directly into the creek's mouth. He could hear the steady +beat of Orvil's motor. When he estimated he had covered the proper +distance, he stopped and let Scotty catch up with him. He put a hand on +his pal's shoulder and pressed down, a signal to hold position. Then, +very carefully, he swam to the top of the water and lifted his head +above the surface. He could see the sapling a dozen yards away, slightly +to his right. Orvil was putting out lines upstream, near the point where +Swamp Creek widened into the cove. + +Rick went under again and tapped Scotty. He headed for the pole, hands +outstretched to intercept it. His left hand hit it and held. Scotty came +alongside and they swam to the bottom. Both gripped the pole, put fins +flat against the muddy bottom, and heaved. The pole came up without +difficulty. While Scotty held it, Rick wrapped rope around it until the +line was fully wound again. Orvil's motor was nearer now. Rick took one +end of the pole while Scotty took the other. They operated entirely by +touch; nothing was visible except the luminous dials of their compasses. +The motor sound was muted in the burbling exhaust of their bubbles. + +It was almost possible to stand on flipper tips with head above water. +The boys thrust their heads out with care, and saw Orvil bearing down on +them, peering forward anxiously. He waved when he saw the two helmeted +heads. There was a slight gleam from the masks even in the darkness. As +he came alongside, the boys held the pole overhead, water churning under +their flippers. Orvil bent and took it, lifted it on board, and +continued on his path. + +The boys went under again, operating on a prearranged plan. This time +they swam side by side, hands searching for the fish line. Since Rick +knew the approximate position where he had tied it to the projecting +stump, he led the way toward shallow water, hoping to intercept it. + +The water shoaled rapidly as the boys approached the shore. Scotty's +hand suddenly gripped Rick's, and Rick felt the line. + +At the same instant, Rick was aware of bubbles in the water, a trail of +faint phosphorescence shooting downward past his mask. Then something +glanced from his tank and he heard a sharp clang like a brazen bell in +his ears. The impact rolled him partly over, and as he turned, another +line of phosphorescence streaked past his eyes. + +The skin on his back crawled in the blazing moment of recognition. They +were being shot at! + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +The Night Watchers + + +Scotty, who had realized they were being shot at, was pulling at Rick's +arm in frantic jerks, trying to lead him back into deeper water. Rick +needed no urging. His fins thrashed in the shallows as he drove +desperately for the safety of the deepest part of the cove, his hands +keeping contact with the bottom. + +The increased pressure on his eardrums told him they had reached the +sanctuary of deeper water where the velocity of bullets would be +absorbed before they could strike. He was bewildered. What had happened? +Who was shooting? For a moment it crossed his mind that Orvil might be +doing the shooting, but he dismissed it. He had no proof that the +crabber hadn't suddenly turned on them; he just didn't believe it. + +Yesterday Scotty had seen watchers on the shore, presumably from +Calvert's Favor. Apparently the watchers were there now. The boys had +gone into shallow water, and their tanks had shown above the surface, +drawing fire. It was the only reasonable explanation. Probably the night +watchers had seen the pole handed up to Orvil, or had seen the faint +light reflecting from their masks. + +What had happened to Orvil? + +One thing was certain. They couldn't stay on the bottom indefinitely. + +Rick consulted his wrist compass and closed his fingers on Scotty's +shoulder. He led the way toward the mouth of the cove. + +Somewhere on the shore, he thought, the night gunmen were watching the +line of bubbles. The boys' only hope of escaping detection had been to +avoid drawing attention to themselves. Rick knew that was impossible +with watchers on the shore. Watchers at four in the morning was one +thing he hadn't expected. What had drawn them? + +Suddenly he knew. While he, Steve, and Scotty had examined the mansion +through glasses from Orvil's boat, Merlin and company, or a single +guard, had been watching them. They had drawn attention not only to +Orvil, but to the time of day when the guards would need to be +especially alert. + +Bubbles would attract the guards' attention, not only because they +foamed on the surface, but because they would leave a glow of +phosphorescence. How far would bubbles and glow be visible? He had a +mental image of the watchers following the shoreline. They couldn't +cross the creek or its mouth to where Steve's runabout was stowed, but +they could shoot that far, if they could see the bubbles. + +The only way for Scotty and him to escape was to eliminate the bubble +track. That meant not breathing. Not breathing was possible for a short +time. During the interval, they could swim into the marsh grass and use +it for cover. + +Rick's thoughts raced. He tried to recall the shoreline. There must be +some promontory, some outcropping of grass, behind which they could +hide. Perhaps the best way was simply to swim directly out from the +creek mouth until distance hid the bubbles and darkness shrouded two +black-covered heads. + +There was a problem, though. Scotty's air tank hadn't been used until +now. Rick's had, during the initial search yesterday. He estimated +quickly. Less air is used at shallow depths than at deeper depths. The +water depth for most of the way was shallow enough so that tank time was +essentially the same as swimming on the surface. He had had at least +forty-five minutes of air to begin with, and it might be stretched to +fifty minutes. He probably had used no more than forty minutes of air, +total. But the remaining ten minutes would not take them out into really +deep water in the river itself, and then back to shore. There was not +enough air to take them to Steve's place. + +He had to make up his mind. Scotty, undoubtedly, was doing some fast +thinking along the same lines. Their thoughts usually followed the same +track in such situations. Rick touched Scotty's side and forged ahead, +heading straight out. He counted his kicks, estimating distance covered. +When he reached a count of three hundred he angled right, toward the +north shore of the Little Choptank. They were well out of the creek now. + +When the water shoaled, he found Scotty again and pressed him down; +then, very gingerly, he put his head above water, half expecting to feel +the shock of a bullet. + +There was a fallen tree nearby. He submerged again, touched Scotty, and +led the way to its shelter. A cautious survey told him they were some +distance from the creek mouth, and certainly invisible behind the +waterlogged trunk and its load of leaves and other debris. + +He put his lips to Scotty's ear. "Wonder what happened to Orvil?" + +"We've got to find out," Scotty whispered back. + +"Yes, but how?" + +"We go overland." + +Of course! They were on the same side as the boat, and not far away. +There was the stretch of marsh between the channel and the creek. They +could cross that, and overlook the creek. "Let's go," Rick whispered. + +They inched their way along the fallen tree to the bank, then crawled +slowly into the shelter of the marsh grass. The grass grew in a narrow +swath at this point, with a tangle of scrub and trees deeper inland. +They kept going until the scrub concealed them, listening for sounds +from the creek. There was the beat of a motor. It sounded like Orvil's +boat, and Rick thought it probably was. But would Orvil continue +crabbing? Again the doubt came. Had the crabber tried to kill them? He +couldn't believe it. + +The boys stopped and slipped off their fins. "Lead on," Rick said +softly. + +"Okay. When we get to the boat, we'll wade across the channel and +continue right on through the marsh grass to the bank of the creek. We'd +better be as quiet as possible." + +"I'm with you." + +Carrying their swim fins, the boys started through the dense growth, +Scotty in the lead. It was hard going. Mosquitoes whined in a steady +swarm around their heads, but with the neoprene suits and helmets, only +their faces and hands were exposed. Each traveled with one hand +outstretched to fend off branches, the other hand waving the fins to +chase the insects from their faces. The outstretched hands were wiped +frequently across the suits to get rid of the pests. + +Rick was careful to step where Scotty stepped. When it came to silent +tracking at night, the ex-Marine had few peers. + +The two skirted the shore, keeping within the tree belt, until more +marsh grass warned them that the water was near. The ground gave way to +mud, and the mud to water. They stepped into the narrow channel up which +they had gone to the blind. They now were less than two yards from the +runabout. Scotty turned at once, and keeping to the water, moved +upstream. Rick followed, careful not to splash. The darkness was less +dense than under the trees, but he could not make out any details. + +The channel ran roughly parallel to the creek, with a strip of land +about thirty yards wide between the two. When Scotty estimated they were +even with the cove, he left the channel and moved into the marsh grass +again. Rick followed closely, careful to make no noise. In spite of +their best efforts there was an occasional sucking sound as his foot or +Scotty's pulled out of the muck, and there was a steady rustle of marsh +grass. He hoped that the sounds were drowned out by the steady chugging +of Orvil's motor. + +Scotty slowed to a cautious pace and Rick knew they were approaching the +creek bank. The marsh grass did not thin appreciably. Rick wondered if +the night watchers could see the tassels of the grass waving as they +approached, and decided that the small motion probably was invisible +against the high bank of trees farther inland. + +Rick stopped as Scotty turned. Soundlessly, Scotty lowered himself to +the mud, then inched ahead, moving each strand of marsh grass with care. +Rick followed suit, and crawled in Scotty's track until he saw the +glimmer of water. Then, moving with great caution, he drew alongside his +pal. They looked out into the cove through a thin screen of grass +stalks. + +Orvil Harris was crabbing, as unconcerned as though nothing had +happened. As Rick stared, disbelieving, the crabber's net swooped. + +The crab boat moved on, exposing a glow on the opposite bank. Rick +sucked in his breath. He could make out the forms of two men. One was +smoking a cigarette. Both carried rifles. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +Daybreak + + +Rick tugged at Scotty's suit, then crawfished backward through the marsh +grass until he was sure the night watchers could not see him. He stood +up, and Scotty joined him. Rick motioned toward their own boat. + +The boys made their way back through the swamp to the runabout in almost +total silence, each busy with his own thoughts. + +Orvil Harris was crabbing as though nothing had happened, while the +night watchers stood in plain sight on the opposite shore. Orvil must +have seen the shots fired, Rick was certain. Even if he had been looking +the other way, the first shot would have caught his attention. + +Or, Rick wondered, had Orvil tipped off the two guards that divers were +below? If so, the game was up. Once Merlin and company knew the payload +had fallen into the cove, they would be diving for it themselves, under +cover of guns. Merlin undoubtedly knew that the launching the evening of +the squall had gone wrong, but he couldn't know how, or where. + +But somehow, Rick didn't think Orvil had been a party to the shooting. +Maybe it was stubbornness, refusing to think the crabber was involved +just because they liked him. Or maybe it was because the crabber had no +reason for helping Merlin and his gang; at least Harris had no reason +known to Rick and Scotty. + +They reached the boat and conferred in whispers that were inaudible six +feet away. + +"Could Orvil have put the finger on us?" Scotty questioned. + +Rick shrugged. "I don't want to think so, and I don't. But I have to +admit it's possible." + +"If he's in with them, they'll be diving for the 'what's-it' at first +light." + +Rick glanced at the eastern sky. It was beginning to glow with the first +hint of daylight. "That's not long from now." + +"How are we going to recover it first?" + +Again Rick shrugged. "There's only one way. Go in and get it." + +"Under those guns?" + +"A diver on the bottom isn't in danger from the guns. I could find the +thing again without going into the shallows. That's what made us targets +before, because we took the easy way to locate the fish line by going +into the shallows near where I tied the line." + +"Let's see your tank," Scotty whispered. + +Rick unsnapped his harness release and swung the tank around. Their +probing fingers soon identified where the bullet had glanced off. There +was a dent, coated with silvery metal. + +"Lead," Rick said. "Part of the slug." + +"Good thing it didn't rupture the tank." + +Rick shuddered. "If it had, I'd have been out of air suddenly and +would've had to come up. Listen, Scotty. My plan is a simple one. I'll +take your tank, since you have the most air, and swim right into the +cove, find the 'what's-it' and swim out again. If it's too heavy to tow +far, I can at least wrestle it part of the way, and then bury it in the +mud. Meanwhile, you get the boat out where it's clear and be ready to +pick me up." + +"They'll see your bubbles, but they can't do anything about it with +rifles," Scotty pointed out. "One thing they can do, though, is jump in +after you. The cove isn't so deep that a pair of good swimmers couldn't +tackle you. The lung wouldn't improve your chances by much." + +"Too true," Rick observed. "But what else can we try?" + +Scotty thought it over. "Listen, we'll take the boat out right now. +You'll have to do the diving, because you know about where the thing is, +and I don't. When we get out, you go over the side. I'll run around to +the river, opposite where the guards are standing, and raise a little +fuss. That might draw their attention away from the cove." + +"Okay." It made sense to Rick. "They'll see both of us in the boat, but +they won't see me get out. Only you'd better plan our course. I have no +aching desire to collect a rifle slug where it hurts." + +"They may not shoot if they see we're leaving," Scotty pointed out. + +"Uh-huh. And they might shoot, anyway." + +"They might. But we'll be moving fast, and I'll swing that boat from +side to side like a swivel-hipped fullback. Let's get going. We don't +want too much daylight." + +Scotty unsnapped his harness and Rick took his pal's tank and regulator. +They put Rick's unit in the bottom of the runabout cockpit, along with +Scotty's fins and mask. Rick put on his own fins and made sure he was +ready to hit the water at a moment's notice. + +Rick went to the stern of the runabout and felt down the motor leg to +the prop to make sure it had not picked up any grass that might slow +them down. It was clear. Scotty, meanwhile, untied the boat and slid +into the driver's seat. Rick reached over the transom and pumped up the +gasoline tank to ensure plenty of pressure, then he waded to the side of +the boat and got into the seat next to Scotty. + +"Pull us out to where the nose is almost projecting beyond the grass," +Scotty whispered. + +Rick did so, by grasping clumps of marsh grass and pulling the boat +along. As the bow cleared the grass, Scotty punched the starter button, +threw the runabout into gear, and shoved the throttle all the way +forward. + +The runabout jumped forward, slamming Rick back against his tank. The +boat hit the shoal at the entrance and slowed for a long, breathtaking +moment, then the driving prop pushed it over into deeper water. The +stern went down and the bow lifted, and they were clear. + +Scotty swung the boat to the right, putting its stern to the cove. Rick +tensed, expecting any moment to feel the impact of a rifle bullet, +either in the boat or in his own body. There was no sound other than the +racing motor, and he knew it would drown out the crack of a distant +rifle. + +The distance from the cove entrance widened. "Get ready!" Scotty yelled. +"Lay flat and be ready to roll. I'll turn so the motor is moving away +from you. When I tap you, we'll be directly in line with the cove +entrance." + +Rick moved out of the seat, keeping low, and lay on his side along the +gunwale, facing Scotty. He put the mouthpiece in place and made sure he +was getting air, then pulled his mask down. He was ready. The impact +with the water would be hard, at this speed, but his tank would cushion +the shock. He tensed for the signal. + +Scotty swung the boat to the left, held it on course for a moment, then +began a shallow turn to the right. That way, the motor would be steering +itself away from Rick when he went over. + +The boat came abreast of the cove entrance and Scotty slapped Rick on +the shoulder. Instantly Rick rolled, one hand reaching for the back of +his head, the other grabbing his mask. He hit the water on his back, his +hand and the tank breaking the shock of the stunning impact. He threw +his legs upward, and his momentum took him under the water instantly. + +The racing motor receded, leaving him in silent darkness. He rolled over +into normal swimming position and consulted his wrist compass. The creek +entrance ran on a course of 80 degrees. If Scotty had gauged things +correctly, that course would take him into the cove. If Scotty hadn't, +Rick Brant would end up on the beach like a stranded whale. + +Rick considered. The boat was gone, and it was extremely unlikely anyone +had seen him leave it. The turn had caused the boat to tilt, lifting the +side away from him. He was certain that the guards had not seen the +maneuver. That being so, and taking into account his distance from the +creek entrance, he thought it would be safe to look and check his +course. + +He held the compass in front of his eyes, and rose to the surface. He +broke through slowly and without a splash. One look was enough. He +should have trusted Scotty. He was dead on course. + +Rick went to the bottom and began the long swim, counting his leg +strokes. He and Scotty had practiced estimating underwater distance by +the number and timing of their leg strokes. It wasn't an exact method, +of course, but it was practical. + +There were no underwater obstacles, and the depth was great enough. Rick +remembered from the chart that the entrance into the creek varied from +eight to eleven feet, dropping inside the creek mouth to about seven. No +bullet could harm him if he stayed on the bottom. If the night watchers +fired, the bullet would be slowed by the water. + +He heard the sound of a motor and recognized it as the runabout. The +sound faded again. Scotty was going through some kind of maneuvers. +Then, in a short time, another motor made itself felt, more than heard. +The slower beat identified it as Orvil Harris's crab boat. He was +nearing the cove! + +Like all divers, Rick's ears were sensitive to pressure changes. Sensing +when the depth lessened, he knew he had reached the cove itself. Now to +find the payload--if it was a payload. His groping hands began the +search. + +The first foreign object he touched was a cord. It was the wrong +thickness for his own line, and he felt along it until he came to a +soft, round mass, and knew he was touching one of Orvil's crab baits. He +grinned in spite of the mouthpiece. Wouldn't Orvil be surprised if a +diver came up hanging to his bait! + +He let the crab line drop and continued his search. Once, Orvil passed +within a few feet of him, and Rick wondered if the crabber had noticed +the air bubbles from his regulator. + +Rising ground told Rick he had reached the end of the cove. He turned +left and held his course for about twenty feet, then turned left again, +heading back toward the cove entrance. His hands never stopped moving, +probing the mud for a trace of fish line. He crossed another of Orvil's +crab lines, and kept going until pressure change told him he was back in +the deeper water at the creek entrance. He turned right again. A check +of his compass told him he was on course. + +His groping hands trailed over a thin line. He grabbed it, and stopped +his flutter kick. Then, moving with care, he turned and followed the +line. His pulse was faster now, and he rigidly controlled his breathing. +Fast breathing wouldn't do, and he would have to be careful not to let +out a sigh that would cause bubbles to gush upward in one big rush. + +A hand found the end of the line and the smooth cylinder to which it was +attached. Orvil passed very close, and Rick looked upward. He could see +the white circle of water around the single propeller. + +Now to find out what he had. His hands stroked it from one end to the +other. One end was rounded. The other was a circle with an odd-shaped +hole running into it. Rick poked his finger in, but couldn't feel the +end of the depression. The only protuberance on the thing was a band +near the rounded end. The band felt like metal, and had two rings +projecting from it. The rest of the cylinder didn't feel like metal. The +texture was that of a smooth plastic. + +Rick lifted the object gingerly. It was hard to estimate weight under +water, but he thought ten pounds would be about right. The total length +was less than three feet. It would be easy to carry. + +This time he needed a reciprocal compass course. It would be 260 degrees +going out. He oriented himself properly, picked up the cylinder, and +began the long swim back. He wondered if Merlin's guards were watching +his bubbles. He had seen no sign of bullets, but he hadn't been looking +for them. With Orvil's motor so near, it was likely he would not have +heard the slap of a bullet on the water. + +Pressure told him he was out of the cove. He breathed a little easier. +Now to count leg strokes again. He looked up, and saw that the surface +of the water was shining with light, the first rays of true daylight. +Scotty would have no trouble finding him. + +Because of the daylight, he continued on for a distance beyond where +Scotty had dropped him. No use giving the guards too good a shot. +Finally, exhausted, he surfaced. He lifted his mask and surveyed the +scene. + +Orvil Harris was still crabbing. Rick could see the boat, but the angle +was wrong for him to see the crabber at work. He turned slowly in the +water, and saw Scotty. The runabout was floating, motor off, about a +mile away. He lifted an arm. The glint of first sunrise turned the +lenses of Scotty's binoculars into a crimson eye, and Scotty waved back. +In a few seconds Rick heard the motor start and saw the boat racing +toward him. He kept his mouthpiece in place, and floated, waiting. + +[Illustration: _Now to find out what he had_] + +Scotty came alongside and reached down. Rick handed him the cylinder. +Scotty put it on the seat without even looking at it. He gave Rick a +hand and pulled him over the side. He asked anxiously, "Are you all +right?" + +"Done in," Rick said wearily. "But otherwise okay." + +"Let's get out of here." Scotty put the runabout in gear and headed back +toward Martins Creek. + +Rick sat down and picked up the cylinder. There was a gob of mud still +on it. He wiped it off with his hand and examined the thing. The +material was fiber glass set in resin, and it was designed so the +rounded nose could be removed. He didn't remove it, however. Instead he +looked at the other end, down into the hole with the puzzling shape. It +was like a cutout Star of David in shape, the hole gradually narrowing +until its apex was almost at the other end. + +The light dawned. Rick's lips formed the word. "Grain." + +Scotty was watching. "What?" + +"Grain," Rick said again. "This thing is a small solid-propellant +rocket!" + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +The Empty Boat + + +The Swiss torsion clock on Steve Ames's fireplace mantle read 6:49. Rick +and Scotty, in slacks, shirts, and moccasins, sat in armchairs and tried +to stay awake. The small rocket, cleaned and dried, rested on a +newspaper on Steve's table. + +"Rockoon," Rick said. "That explains the funny antenna, the presence of +the electronics expert, and why the stingarees are launched." + +"Not to me, it doesn't," Scotty retorted. He sipped steaming coffee. +"What was that word you used? Grain?" + +Rick nodded sleepily. "That's what solid rocket fuel is called. It's +poured into the casing around a form. The form is withdrawn after the +fuel hardens. The shape is designed to give maximum burning surface. +Since the solid fuel is grainy, it's called grain." + +"Logical," Scotty replied with a languid wave of his hand. "All +perfectly logical. I also understand that a rockoon is a combination of +a rocket and a balloon. The balloon carries the rocket up to where the +air is less dense, then the rocket fires and breaks away. How does the +rocket know when to fire?" + +"Two ways. A barometric switch can be installed that will act at a +certain altitude, or a signal can be sent from the ground." + +"The antenna," Scotty said. "It can send a signal." + +"Sure." + +"I'm with you all the way, until you say this shows why the stingarees +fly. Why send up rockoons? What's the reason?" + +Rick forgot he was holding a coffee cup and waved his hand. He recovered +in time to keep from spilling the hot liquid on Steve's rug. "Scientific +research is usually the reason for rockoons. They carry experiments." + +Scotty snorted. "Are you telling me Lefty Camillion has turned +scientist?" + +"Nope." Rick yawned. "I take it back. We still don't know why the +stingarees fly. We only know what they are. Where do you suppose Steve +is?" + +"That's the eighth time you've asked. He'll be here when that business +of his is over." + +The telephone rang. Rick jumped to his feet and beat Scotty to the phone +only because he was four steps nearer. "Hello?" + +An unfamiliar voice spoke. "Stay away from the creek, and stay away from +the house. If you don't, your crab-catching buddy is going to be turned +into crab food." The line went dead. + +Rick turned, eyes wide. Suddenly he was no longer sleepy. "Did you hear +that? He said to stay away from the creek and the house, or our +crab-catching buddy would be turned into crab food!" + +"He must have meant Orvil Harris!" Scotty exclaimed. "Rick, let's get +going!" + +The boys started for the door at a run, but Rick stopped as his eye +caught the rocket. "Check the gas," he told Scotty. "Steve has a spare +can in the workshop. The runabout tank must be getting low. I'm going to +hide the rocket." + +Scotty left at a run. Rick picked up the rocket and surveyed the scene. +Where could he hide it? He hurried into the kitchen and examined the +cabinets, then shook his head. Too obvious. + +The refrigerator caught his eye. An apron at the bottom concealed the +motor unit. He knelt and pulled the apron free from its fastenings. +There was room next to the motor--unless the heat of the motor caused +the rocket fuel to burn. He opened the refrigerator and examined the +control, then turned it to "defrost." It wouldn't go on until they got +back. Hurriedly he put the small rocket in at a slight angle. It just +fit. He snapped the cover back in place and ran to join Scotty, who was +already in the boat. + +"Gas okay," Scotty called. "Let's go." + +Rick cast off and jumped aboard. Scotty started the motor and backed +into the stream, then turned sharply and headed toward the river. +Neither boy spoke. Their sleepiness was gone now, forgotten in their +fear for Orvil. + +Scotty held the runabout wide open, at its top speed of nearly twenty +miles an hour. They sped across the Little Choptank River straight for +Swamp Creek, with no effort at concealment. + +Rick saw a low, white boat some distance down the river and grabbed +Scotty's arm. "Isn't that Orvil's boat?" + +Scotty looked for a long moment. "It looks like it. Let's go see." + +They swung onto a new course, in pursuit of the white boat. It might not +be Orvil's, but it was like it. Both boys could now recognize the design +characteristic of boats built on the Chesapeake Bay. The boats were +known as "bay builts," and distinguished by their straight bows--almost +vertical to the water line--square sterns, and flaring sides. The design +was ideal for the shallow, choppy waters of the bay, and the boats could +take a heavy bay storm with greater comfort and safety than most +deep-water models. + +As they came closer both boys looked for the boat's occupant, but there +was no one in sight. Worried, Scotty held top speed until they were +nearly alongside, then he throttled down and put his gunwale next to +that of the crab boat. + +"It's Orvil's," Rick said. "But where is he?" + +"Get aboard," Scotty suggested. + +"Okay." Rick stood up and timed his motion with the slight roll of both +boats, then stepped into the crabber. Orvil's crab lines were coiled +neatly in their barrels, the stone crab-line anchors and floats were +stacked along the side of the boat. There were three covered bushel +baskets of crabs, and extra baskets stacked in place. One open basket +held a dozen jumbo crabs. Orvil's net was in its rack on the engine box, +but there was no sign of Orvil himself. + +Wait--there was a sign. Rick knelt by a small brown patch on the deck. +He touched it, and a chill lanced through him. Blood, and only recently +dried. Orvil's? + +Rick straightened. Someone had turned the boat loose, idled down to its +lowest speed. The stable crab boat had continued on course, heading out +the mouth of the Little Choptank into the wide bay. Only a bloodstain +showed that there had been violence aboard. + +The flying stingaree had claimed another victim! + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +Steve Waits It Out + + +The two-boat procession moved down Martins Creek at slow speed, Scotty +leading in the runabout and Rick following in Orvil's boat. The boys had +decided to take the crab boat back to Steve's, because it could not be +left adrift, and they did not know where Orvil berthed it. + +Both agreed it was senseless to return to Swamp Creek. That wouldn't +help Orvil, at least for now, and they might possibly be picked off by +the riflemen. + +As they neared the pier, Scotty moved out of the way while Rick backed +the big crab boat into the runabout's place. Before he had finished, +Steve was coming down the walk at a run. + +The agent took the line Rick tossed and made it fast, then caught +another line and secured the bow. Scotty backed in with the runabout and +Rick helped him secure the smaller boat to the side of the crabber. + +"Bumpers on the houseboat," Rick called. "Under the cockpit deck." + +Steve hurried to get them, and they were placed between the crab boat +and the runabout to prevent rubbing. + +The boys climbed to the pier and faced their friend. + +"We found the boat headed into the bay," Rick said grimly. "Bloodstain +on the deck, but no other sign of violence. We had a phone call telling +us to keep away from the creek and the house, or Orvil would be fed to +the crabs. There's no doubt about it. They have Orvil." + +Strangely, Steve replied, "Yes, I know. Come on in the house." + +The three walked up the path to the farmhouse, with Rick and Scotty +staring incredulously at the agent. How had he known? + +"Did you get a phone call after we left?" Rick asked. + +Steve shook his head. + +"Then how did you know?" Scotty demanded. + +Steve held up a hand. "Easy, kids. I'm trying to get my thoughts +straightened out a little and make some plans. We'll talk it over +shortly." + +Inside the house, Rick went at once to the refrigerator. As the others +watched, he pulled the bottom panel loose, took out the small rocket, +and replaced the panel. Then he turned the refrigerator control back to +normal and handed the rocket to Steve. + +The agent examined it wordlessly, his forehead wrinkled in thought. Then +he put it down on the kitchen table and investigated the state of the +coffeepot while Rick and Scotty stood first on one foot, then the other, +and fumed quietly. + +Steve decided more coffee was needed and proceeded to make it. Not until +the pot was heating did he motion the boys to sit down at the kitchen +table. He joined them, turning a chair around and straddling it, his +chin resting on his hands on the back, his eyes alert. + +"Testing our patience again?" Rick asked acidly. + +Steve's warm grin flashed. "Sorry, kids. I was working over a few facts +in my head, trying to make them add up. Okay, let's talk. Start by +telling me about last night." + +The boys reported, taking turns. "At first we thought Orvil might have +told the riflemen guards we were on the bottom," Rick said finally, "but +that's out. He's a victim, not a member of the gang. I saw his boat just +before Scotty picked me up, but I couldn't see him." + +Scotty picked up the tale. "After Rick dropped off, I made a high-speed +run out into the river, then turned and headed for a spot on the north +bank opposite where I thought the guards were. I got in close to shore +and throttled down, deliberately giving them a chance at me if they +wanted to take it. There weren't any shots, but I saw one of the guards. +The visibility wasn't very good, so I propped the extra tank up in the +seat and put my headpiece and mask on it, hoping any watchers would +think there were two of us. I don't know whether they were fooled or +not." + +"Pretty smart," Steve approved. + +"Thanks. I ran back out into the river and fished around in the locker +under the seat. You had a few old wrenches there, and some rags. Well, I +owe you a wrench. It was the biggest one, which means it isn't used very +often on an outboard, anyway." + +"Just so long as it wasn't my size seven-sixteenths wrench," Steve said +with a grin. "Go on." + +"It wasn't. I wrapped rags around it and tied them with a hunk of line, +then searched for matches. I finally found a paper folder in the glove +compartment. I had to open the gas tank and let out pressure to get any +gas on the rags, and it wasn't easy, standing on my head in the cockpit. +What I really needed was a Coke bottle. I could have made a Molotov +cocktail by filling it with gas and using the rag for a fuse. Well, I +made another run inshore and watched for the boys with rifles. They +didn't show up. I got as close as I could without grounding, touched a +match to my bomb, and heaved it into the marsh grass. My eyebrows took a +beating." Scotty rubbed the slightly scorched areas. + +"I wanted to set the marsh on fire, but the blaze was only a small one. +I figured if the grass would burn, the riflemen would have to run +upstream to safety. But the stuff only charred in a circle. Anyway, it +scared them. They came running to stamp it out, and one of them took a +shot at me. But I was nearly a mile out from the creek by then, and he +didn't even come close." + +"Let's hope I never have you two for enemies," Steve said fervently. + +Scotty concluded, "I decided Rick probably had been in and out of the +cove by that time, so I moved to where I could watch with binoculars, +putting the sunrise behind where I thought he would appear. I knew I +could see him better against the light. Finally up he popped, and away I +went, and here we are." + +Rick ended their recital. "We got back and took off our diving suits, +then went for a swim with a bar of soap. When we were clean, except for +my hands, which got stained by the mud, we dressed and came into the +house. We were sitting down enjoying coffee and trying to keep awake +when the phone rang. How did those hoods get the number, anyway?" + +"That's not hard," Steve said. "It's probable that Camillion's boys +started checking up on you the moment you showed interest. My car is +known at the local gas stations. It would be just a matter of asking who +owns a convertible of that description. Name and telephone directory add +up to the right number. Watching you enter Martins Creek would cap the +information. You could be seen easily with glasses from the river shore +opposite the cove." + +The agent got up and turned down the stove as the coffee began to +percolate. "My tale is pretty short." + +"Wag it, anyway," Rick suggested. + +Steve put a hand to his forehead. "Gags like that at this time of day +cause shooting pains. Please be attentive, and not waggish." + +"Ouch!" Scotty exclaimed. + +Steve sat down again. "After you were safely on your way I changed to +dark clothes, smeared a little black goo on my face, and took off for +Calvert's Favor. I drove to within a half mile and parked the car in the +woods, then hiked. The first thing I came to was a chain-link fence. It +took some time to see if it was wired for an alarm--and it was. So I had +to find a tree with a limb that overhung the fence. I'd taken the +precaution of carrying a rope. I found the tree, fixed the rope to an +overhanging limb, and down I went." + +"We could have postponed recovering the payload and helped you," Scotty +said reproachfully. + +"Sure you could. But I'm used to operating alone, and I was interested +in what you might find in the cove. Anyway, I approached from behind the +barn and had to take cover when two men went by. They had rifles. They +headed down the peninsula toward the cove. I scouted around, but no +other guards were in sight, so I started with the barn." + +Steve paused. "That is quite a barn. No hay, no oats, no horses. But it +has the loveliest dish antenna in it you've ever seen." + +"A microwave dish?" Rick gasped. + +"Exactly. It's mounted on a truck, and I suspect the electronic gear is +inside. I couldn't get a good look. There are also little cubicles +inside the barn, probably horse stalls, and I could hear a man snoring +in one of them. There wasn't much light, and I couldn't use my little +flashlight beam too freely, but I did get a look at several gas bottles +racked along one wall. They were big ones, of the kind used for +commercial gases like propane or oxygen." + +"Or hydrogen?" Scotty asked quickly. + +"Or hydrogen," Steve agreed. "And that's probably what they contain, for +inflating the balloons." + +He got up, turned off the coffee, and poured three cups. "Along about +that time, I heard rifleshots. You can imagine what I thought. I had a +vision of two bodies sinking slowly into the mud. If I'd had a weapon, I +think I'd have run down to see what was going on. But common sense got +the better of me, and I figured it was highly unlikely that a pair of +divers could be picked off with rifles if they were underwater. I was +sure you had sense enough to stay down. So I left the barn and went to +the house." + +"You actually went in?" Rick asked, his eyes wide. + +"Sure. It was safe enough. The gang was sleeping upstairs and the two +guards were interested in you and Orvil. No papers were left where I +could get them. There's a built-in safe, but I'm no Jimmy Valentine who +sandpapers his fingers and opens boxes by touch. I couldn't do anything +with it. Finally, I figured all had been seen that could be seen, and +left the house. I could hear a motor racing, and I recognized the +runabout, so I knew you were still alive. I retired to the woods behind +the barn and headed for the riverbank. I saw Scotty hurl his homemade +bomb." + +Scotty shook his head. "I didn't see you." + +"You weren't supposed to. I decided Scotty must be creating a diversion, +and that meant you, Rick, were still diving in the cove. I took off for +the cove, keeping a weather eye out for the guards. There was plenty of +cover along the bank, so it wasn't hard. I got a good view of the +festivities. After the fire was stamped out, the two guards walked up to +the bank of the cove and waited until Orvil got close, then they pointed +their rifles at him and invited him to come closer still. He didn't have +much choice." + +Rick thought that was an understatement. + +"They questioned him for a while. Who were the divers and what were they +after? Orvil played dumb. He said he knew nothing about divers and of +course he had seen bubbles. He always saw bubbles. Marsh gas was rising +all the time. He couldn't understand what all the shooting was about." + +"Good for Orvil," Scotty muttered. + +"He put on a pretty good act, saying he didn't know what they were +shooting at, but the guards weren't having any. They finally made him +pull up his lines, throw his bait overboard, and get everything +shipshape. Then one of the guards invited him to step ashore. Orvil +balked and took a swing at the nearest one and got a rifle across the +head. He dropped to the deck. That must be how the stain got there. They +slapped him back into consciousness and made him get out. One guard held +a rifle on him while the other put his weapon down and got in the boat. +He took the boat out into the middle of the cove, aimed it toward the +river, and put it in gear, then dove over the side and swam ashore. The +boat headed out and the guards walked Orvil back." + +"So he's alive," Rick said with relief. + +"Probably. I waited until the parade went by, then fell in line. They +took Orvil into the barn, and I managed to get a look through a window. +They tossed him into one of the horse stalls and locked the barn door. I +decided it was time to leave." + +Steve sipped his coffee and made a face as it burned his tongue. "You +can imagine how I felt. If one had gone away, I could have jumped the +other. But two with guns, and me with not even a rock--I was dead +certain to end up with Orvil. Besides, I couldn't take the chance." + +Rick stared. If Steve felt he couldn't take a chance on rescuing Orvil, +there had to be a good reason. The only reason Rick could think of was +that Steve had decided there was more at stake than Orvil himself. + +"We know where Orvil is," Scotty pointed out. "We can go after him. This +time we'll be armed." + +Steve shook his head. "Sorry. I wish it could be like that, but we're +not engaged in a personal vendetta. Orvil may be out of there by +tonight, or he may not. He'll have to take his chances." + +One thing had been bothering Rick, aside from Steve's untypical attitude +about rescuing Orvil. "You haven't accounted for all your time. You +could have reached here before we did if you had started back right +away." + +Steve shook his head. "I didn't. I went to the airport and used a public +phone booth by the side of the road to call Patuxent Naval Air Station. +In twenty minutes I had a Navy jet fighter on the Cambridge field. I +handed the pilot the pictures you took and told him what to do with +them, then I made another call to my office in Washington to tell them +the pictures were on the way and to look them over and take action +accordingly. We'll be seeing the results pretty soon." + +The young agent stopped smiling. "Your little mystery has turned into a +case for JANIG, kids. I'm pretty sure of my facts, but I'll know +definitely before noon. Right now, you'd better finish your coffee and +get into bed. You'll need sleep if things start to pop. That rockoon +idea of yours about cinches things." + +Rick blurted, "If it's a case for JANIG, there must be security involved +somewhere. Is Wallops Island involved somehow?" + +"Go to bed," Steve said sternly. "By the time you wake up, I'll have a +lot more than guesses, and I'll give you the details then." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +Crowd at Martins Creek + + +Rick and Scotty awoke to find four newcomers at Steve's house. Steve +introduced them to Dave Cobb, electronics specialist; Joe Vitalli and +Chuck Howard, JANIG agents; and Roy McDevitt from Wallops Island. + +McDevitt, who had just driven over from the rocket range, was a tall, +lean engineer dressed in slacks and a spectacular sport shirt emblazoned +with tropical flowers. He shook hands cordially. "You're Hartson Brant's +boys. We've certainly enjoyed having your family over at the island. +When Barby and Jan leave, the whole base will go into mourning." + +Rick grinned. "Somebody loses, somebody wins. We're anxious to have them +back with us again." + +Vitalli and Howard greeted the boys as old comrades. Although they had +had no chance to become well acquainted, the two agents had been part of +the JANIG team during the case of _The Whispering Box Mystery_. + +Dave Cobb, who was scarcely older than the boys, had been hastily +borrowed from the Naval Research Laboratory in Washington. He spared no +time for greetings other than a cordial wave, and immediately got to +work on the rocket Rick had found in the cove. + +The group pulled chairs up to the kitchen table on which Cobb was +working, and watched. + +Cobb studied the rocket for a few minutes, then took a pointed tool and +pressed it into a spot five inches below the rounded nose. He rotated +the cylinder and pressed a similar spot on the other side. Rick saw a +thin line appear around the rocket below where Cobb had pressed. + +The electronics specialist gripped the cylinder above and below the thin +line and twisted. The nose of the rocket came off. Cobb pointed to a +pair of metal prongs that extended out of the nose into the rocket +casing. "Contacts," he said. "They press against strips inside the +rocket casing. The whole assembly acts as a dipole antenna." + +No one commented. Cobb took a tiny screwdriver and removed two screws +from a metal plate in the bottom of the nose cone. The screws were long +ones, holding the entire nose assembly in place. With the screws laid +carefully aside, Cobb tapped the cone and the assembly dropped into his +hand. + +"A terrific job of miniaturization," he commented. "First-rate design." +He pointed with a screwdriver to a segment about the size of two silver +dollars stacked together. "Tape recorder. It accumulates data, then +plays it back in a single high-speed burst." + +Rick watched, fascinated, as the electronics expert identified +components and circuits. The whole unit, scarcely larger than a common +soup can, contained receiver, tape recorder, transmitter, batteries, and +command circuits that could be triggered from the ground. It was a +highly complex and beautifully engineered package for receiving data, +storing it, then retransmitting it. + +"But why?" Rick demanded. "Why send up a rockoon at all? What data does +it receive and transmit, and what do the people at the mansion do with +it?" + +"What Rick is asking," Scotty observed, "is the question that has +puzzled us since we got here. Why do the stingarees fly?" + +Steve waved a hand. "Patience for just a few more minutes. Anything +else, Cobb?" + +The electronics expert shook his head. "Not unless you have specific +questions. In summary, this is a very elegant little assembly of +receiver, data recorder, transmitter, and command circuits." + +"Fine. McDevitt, what about the rocket?" + +The man from Wallops Island shrugged. "Nothing very complex about it. +It's a simple solid-fuel rocket with star grain, fired by a squib that +is commanded from the ground. A squib is simply an igniter to start the +fuel burning. Battery power makes it glow red hot when turned on." + +"How high an altitude would the rocket reach?" Steve asked. + +"It's difficult to be precise, but I'd estimate the balloon carries it +to ten thousand feet, then it is fired by signal from the ground at the +proper time. The rocket would go to about one hundred thousand feet, +plus or minus twenty thousand. In other words, I'd guess its maximum +altitude at nearly twenty-three miles." + +"Did you say fired at the proper time, or proper altitude?" Rick asked +quickly. He wanted clarification of the point, although he was sure +McDevitt had said "time." + +"The altitude isn't important. I'd say time was the principal factor." + +"But if altitude isn't important, why use a rockoon? Why not use a +rocket launched directly from the ground?" Scotty demanded. He looked +puzzled. + +Rick looked at Steve expectantly. The young agent smiled. "Got the +answer, Rick?" + +"Maybe. It's a matter of secrecy, isn't it? The folks around here were +puzzled by the flying stingarees, but they would have been more puzzled +by rocket firing. They'd have been curious enough to want to know why +the rockets were being fired, and it's certain that an investigation +would have resulted. By using rockoons, with balloons that didn't look +like balloons, Camillion confused the issue. People who reported seeing +things got laughed at, mostly because they call any unidentified flying +object a flying saucer. The rockets fired only when high in the air, +where people wouldn't notice." + +"Two did," Scotty reminded him. "Remember? We had two interviews where +the people saw spurts of flame." + +"Sure," Rick agreed, "but they had no idea it was a rocket taking off +from a balloon. And only two out of the whole bunch even noticed flame +at all." + +Steve nodded. "You've hit it, Rick. It's the only answer that makes +sense." + +"Not until we know what data were collected by the rockoons," Rick said +stubbornly. "That's the whole key. Nothing will really make sense until +we know that." + +"We ran the dates and times of sightings through the computer with a lot +of other dates and times for various things," Steve explained. "I had a +hunch, but the computer turned it into good comparative data." + +"What data?" Scotty demanded. + +"Every single sighting you collected coincided with the launching of a +research rocket from Wallops Island!" + +The boys sat back, openmouthed. Rick said, "So that's why the glow from +Wallops Island in the south-eastern sky was so significant. That's what +put you on the trail!" + +"Right," Steve agreed. "The yellow glow is from sodium vapor rockets +fired from Wallops. The rockets allow visual measurement of +meteorological data. People around here are used to seeing them to the +southeast, over Wallops. When I saw that sightings had been made over +Swamp Creek at the time of sodium shots, I got an idea. It wasn't much +to go on, but it was at least a good clue. The computer did the rest." + +"Then Lefty Camillion and his friends have been intercepting data from +our rocket launchings at Wallops," Scotty said unbelievingly. "But why? +How could Lefty use data like that? It's all straight, unclassified +scientific and meteorological stuff. He's no scientist." + +Steve grinned. "I doubt that he even knows what the data are. He and his +friends are a bunch of chuckleheads of the very worst kind. But about +what he does with the data--Joe Vitalli has been doing some +investigating along that line." + +Vitalli nodded. "With the FBI. They put agents on the case and found out +Lefty had been in touch with the Soviet Embassy in Washington, through a +third secretary whose function it is to gather various kinds of +scientific intelligence. We're not absolutely certain, but it looks very +much as though Lefty plans to sell his data tapes to the Soviets." + +"So that's why JANIG has moved into the case," Scotty concluded. + +"On the nose," Steve agreed. "Now it's time to move in on our foolish +friends at Calvert's Favor. Do you boys want to take a hand?" + +"Try and leave us out," Rick said with a grin. "JANIG is welcome to +assist us, but the flying stingarees are our babies. Scotty's and mine, +that is." + +"Be glad to have you help," Scotty echoed. + +The JANIG men laughed. "You've got a point," Chuck Howard conceded. + +"Want to plan the operation?" Steve asked with a twinkle. + +Rick held up his hand. "Whoa! We didn't say that. You've got information +we don't have." + +"Only one piece of information," Steve replied. "The time of the next +launching from Wallops Island." + +"When?" Rick asked eagerly. + +"At dusk tonight." + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +The Stingaree's Tail + + +"This is the plan," Steve Ames said. "Joe and Chuck will approach from +upriver and go around the mansion fence by wading downstream. They'll +stay under cover somewhere at the edge of the mansion grounds until they +hear my signal on the radio to close in--or until they see the balloon +launched. I'll go in the way I did before." + +The two JANIG agents nodded, and bent over the chart borrowed from the +houseboat. + +"Cobb will set up his equipment here at my house," Steve continued, "and +try to intercept all signals from the mansion. McDevitt will set up here +too, and track the balloon through my telescope--if it rises--watching +until the rocket fires. McDevitt also will keep in touch with Wallops +Island by radio, and notify me on the walkie-talkie when the countdown +reaches thirty minutes." + +Steve turned to Rick and Scotty. "Before I go to my post, I'll take you +two to the creek mouth in the runabout. Then you will swim up the creek, +underwater, and take up stations in the weeds directly in front of the +house." + +Rick's pulse stopped. "They'll see our bubbles," he protested. "It would +give the whole show away!" + +Steve motioned to Joe Vitalli. "Show 'em." + +Joe walked to the car in which he and Chuck had driven from Washington, +and opened the trunk. He brought out a pair of riot guns, automatic +shotguns, which he handed to Chuck, then he reached into the trunk and +brought out a pair of small cylinders with full face masks attached. + +"Rebreathers!" Rick exclaimed. He grinned at Steve. "You planned this +before you ever told us what was on your mind!" + +"I thought it was best to be prepared," Steve said. "You know how these +work?" + +Rick nodded. "We both do." The rebreathers, unlike Scubas, which were +filled with compressed air, used oxygen which was recycled through a +canister of chemicals that removed water vapor and carbon dioxide. They +were completely self-contained; no bubbles were emitted. + +Cobb was already opening a pair of leather-covered cases, exposing +electronic gear. He had also brought a portable antenna, which he began +setting up. McDevitt had a radio in his car with which to talk to +Wallops, and Steve handed him one unit of a walkie-talkie radio network. +Another unit went to Chuck, and Steve retained one. + +Steve glanced at his watch. "Let's get going. Time your travel so you +will be in place at eight o'clock on the nose." He looked at the boys. +"Get into your gear, and take spear guns with you. When we move into +action, I want you to bring that balloon down if you can." + +The boys ran to the houseboat. Rick was excited, and he knew Scotty was +feeling the same way. It was the first time they had been in on a JANIG +operation as full partners. Their previous adventures had either been as +accidental participants or as observers. + +They got into full gear, including their skin-tight neoprene helmets and +footgear. Then, leaving their fins and rebreathers, they hurried back to +the others. Joe and Chuck were in their own car, the riot guns and +walkie-talkie out of sight. McDevitt had the telescope set up next to +his car and was practicing with it by tracking a high-flying osprey. +Cobb was finishing work on his electronic setup. His antenna was in +place, the dish on top of the collapsible pole aligned on the compass +direction to Calvert's Favor. + +Steve shook hands with Joe and Chuck. "On your way. See you when the +balloon goes up." He motioned to the boys. "Got spear guns?" + +"We left that till last," Rick said. "Ready to go?" + +"Ready." + +The three hurried down the pier to the houseboat, where the boys took +guns from their spear box. Each chose a high-powered gas gun, operated +by a carbon dioxide cartridge, and selected the spears that would cut +the biggest holes. There would be time for only one shot. + +"Get on the floor in the runabout when we cast off," Steve directed. "If +there are any watchers, I want them to see only one man." + +The boys cast off, then climbed in as Steve backed into the creek. They +crouched on the floor and adjusted the straps on their face masks until +the fit was tight. There was no conversation. Rick was so excited it was +hard to sit still. As they began the crossing of the Little Choptank +River, Steve gave them instructions. "When we get opposite the creek +mouth, the engine is going to stutter and kick up a lot of smoke. The +boat will drift into the smoke and out again. You'll have a few seconds +to go over. I'll pretend to work on the motor, and finally get it +started, but running rough. Then I'll take off and pretend I'm heading +home. Okay?" + +"How are you going to make smoke?" Rick asked. + +Steve reached into his breast pocket and produced a small bottle. "These +are chemicals that smoke when they touch water. Got your plans all +made?" + +Rick looked at Scotty. "We'll have to stick our heads up once in a +while. I'll lead, since I know the creek as far as the cove. When I +think I'm lost, I'll head for the north bank, making a sharp turn. That +will be your signal to stay put, while I look. What I'd like to do is +bring us out in back of the duck blind. We can pick our spots then and +cross the creek when we're ready." + +"Got it," Scotty agreed. + +Steve reached down a hand and squeezed their hands in turn. "Good luck, +kids. And no unnecessary chances. If shooting starts, get underwater +again. We'll have guns, but you'll have only single-shot spear guns." + +"Good luck," the boys said in unison. They put on the masks and turned +the valves that started the oxygen cycles. Rick grinned at Scotty +through the glass, and knew that his grin was strained. Scotty grinned +back and held up his hand with thumb and forefinger making the signal +for "Okay." + +"Be ready," Steve said. + +Rick checked himself once again to be sure all was in order. Weight +belt, knife, compass, spear gun with safety cap on, mask fitting +tightly, and the pack in place. He got ready to jump on Steve's command. + +The outboard slowed, raced, slowed, raced, back-fired, slowed. Steve's +hand went over and trailed chemical in the water. The boat turned, and +Rick saw the smoke cloud rising. The boat went into it, and the motor +cut out. + +"Go," Steve said. + +Rick stood upright and went over the gunwale in a dive, knifing toward +the bottom. He felt the pressure wave as Scotty followed and reached a +hand upward to meet his pal. His hand touched Scotty's arm, found the +hand, and gave it a squeeze. Then, with a glance at his compass to +orient him, Rick started the long swim. + +It was odd to be wearing the oxygen lung. The sound of bubbles from the +customary compressed-air Scubas was missing, and the silence was +strange. Then Steve started the motor of the runabout and Rick heard the +broken rhythm as the motor skipped. He knew that Steve probably had +turned the carburetor mixture to too lean or too rich. Either would +cause the motor to run rough. He kept moving, his fins keeping a steady +stroke. The motor sound grew distant, and finally faded entirely. + +Rick usually depended on pressure to tell him location, but the creek +was too shallow for any strong indication on his ears. He kept going +until the visibility and brightness told him he was in the shallows, +then steered out into the middle of the stream again. + +He thought they must be halfway to the mansion, but wasn't sure. He gave +a pair of swift kicks to alert Scotty, then turned sharp left, rolling +over on his back. He could see the water surface clearly. Rising a +little, he lifted his face above the water for a brief second, then went +back under. + +Now was the time to get behind the duck blind. Rick swam back to where +Scotty waited, and plucked at his shoulder. This time he started off +close to the north shore, heading directly for the duck blind. His +course was straight. In a few moments he found himself among the pilings +and turned to put the blind between himself and the mansion on the +opposite shore. Scotty followed. + +Rick lifted his head cautiously. He saw only the marsh grass and the +back of the blind. He tapped Scotty, who rose until his head was level +with Rick's, his face only a few inches away. They pulled off their +masks. + +"We can swim under the blind and look out the front," Rick whispered. +"There's enough brush to give us cover. We'll each pick our own spot and +go to it. Sound all right?" + +"Okay. Better fix our guns right here, though." + +It was good advice. Rick removed the safety cap from his spear, making +sure the barbed shaft was properly seated. Now he needed only to flick +off the safety catch and fire. Scotty did the same. + +"You go right and I'll go left," Scotty suggested softly. "Be better if +there's a little spread between us. We'll also want to find places where +we can look out. There's some weed along the shore, and I think I +remember a brush pile around a stake near the right-hand edge of the +lawn. One piling is there. There's a bunch of old pilings off to the +left where the original pier was. I can see if there's cover there. If +not, I'll find something." + +Scotty had worn his waterproof watch. It was just four minutes to eight. +Time to get going. + +The boys shook hands, grinned at each other, and pulled their masks back +on. They ducked under the blind, side by side, and swam to the front of +the structure where brush from last year's cover remained. + +Cautiously Rick peered out, then sucked in his breath. A truck had been +wheeled out of the barn. It had a dish antenna on top. And next to the +truck, a mass of black plastic was slowly inflating. A flying stingaree! + +Rick looked quickly for a spot to which he could swim. Near the edge of +the cut lawn was the piling Scotty had mentioned. It was tall, with a +light on it for night navigation. Rick realized he had seen it on +earlier trips, but had not noticed it particularly because his attention +had been on the house and its occupants. Slightly upstream from the tall +piling were a series of stakes, saplings pushed into the bottom to +indicate the limits of water deep enough for a boat. Around three of the +pilings brush and grass had gathered, picked up from the current. The +middle pile was highest. Rick decided to head for it. + +Scotty was also searching for a hiding place. Apparently he found one +that was satisfactory, because he gripped Rick's shoulder for a moment, +then submerged. Rick saw him as a shadow, hugging the bottom. + +Now was the time. Rick took a deep breath to quiet his taut and shaky +nerves, then sank to the bottom and began the last leg of the trip. It +was only a few dozen yards to the sapling he had chosen. He reached it +and glanced upward. The mass of debris made a black blotch on the bright +surface of the water. Moving with infinite caution and using the sapling +as a guide, he swung his legs under him and rose to a sitting position. +The debris was still above the level of his eyes, so he swung his legs +back again and knelt. The kneeling position brought his head to just the +right level. He lifted his face and looked at the debris. Working +cautiously, he brought a hand up and poked a hole through. His fingers +enlarged the hole until he could see sufficiently. + +The flying stingaree was tugging at the rope that held it! The shape was +almost perfect, Rick thought, but he doubted that it had been designed +to look like a sting ray. More likely it had been picked to look as +little like a conventional balloon as possible. Well, it had served its +purpose. + +Merlin, alias Lefty Camillion, and his electronics wizard were fitting a +rocket into a loop on a plastic strap that dangled from the balloon. +Rick couldn't see it clearly, but thought it was a replica of the one he +had recovered. + +There was sound from the truck containing the dish antenna. Rick pulled +his mask away to hear a little better and heard a loudspeaker, +rebroadcasting something. + +"... reports no aircraft within range limits. We are now at thirty-one +minutes and counting. On my mark the time will be zero minus thirty +exactly." + +There was only the crackle of the loudspeaker. The set was tuned in on +the Wallops Island command frequency, Rick realized. That was how +Camillion and company knew when to release the balloon, and when to +trigger the rocket! + +Camillion's bodyguard was manning the rope holding the balloon. It was +attached to a ring on the truck. As Rick watched, the bodyguard let out +more line and the balloon rose slightly, tugging at the rope, and moving +toward Rick. The tail hung down almost to the ground, the rocket hanging +at an angle at its end. + +The loudspeaker voice said, "Stand by. Mark! Zero minus thirty." + +The bodyguard reached up and cut the rope! + +Rick saw the flying stingaree heading directly toward him, rising +slowly, caught by the ground wind. He brought his spear gun into +position and rose to his full height, snapping off the safety catch. +Oblivious to the yells from the lawn, he aimed and fired. With a sharp +hiss, the spear flashed through the air--into the balloon and right +through it! + +The balloon didn't even falter. It would take time to lose sufficient +gas to bring it down. The wind swept it right toward Rick, still rising. +As it passed over him, the dangling rocket would be almost within reach. + +Rick didn't hesitate. He saw the track of the balloon curving, as the +wind shifted direction downstream over the water. He threw himself to +one side and forward, dropping the spear gun, one hand outstretched. The +rocket slapped into his palm and his fingers closed around it. The jerk +pulled him forward and he grabbed with his other hand, missed, and +grabbed again. This time he caught the rocket, and both hands gripped +tight. + +The flying stingaree lifted him, dragging him through the water. Rick +spun around at the end of the line, and caught a glimpse of the +bodyguard raising a pistol to shoot at him! Then the scene whirled and +he saw Scotty, standing in water to his waist, spear gun lifted to fire. + +[Illustration: _The flying stingaree lifted him!_] + +Rick saw the spear leave his pal's gun, and he whirled his head in time +to see the bodyguard looking down with horror at the shaft protruding +from his side. + +The boy didn't see the piling. His last quick impression was of the +bodyguard falling forward, then there was a stunning impact as the side +of his head met creosoted wood and darkness flooded in. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +Lucky Lefty + + +Rick awoke to fiery agony. His face was burning, the flames searing his +flesh. He tried to reach a hand up to ease the pain and found the hand +gripped firmly. He struggled, and Steve's voice said, "Take it easy, +Rick. We'll be through in a minute." + +The boy subsided and gritted his teeth. If Steve was there, it was okay. +But why didn't Steve put out the fire? + +"Don't move," Steve said sharply. "I don't want to hurt you any more +than I can help." + +Rick closed his eyes and fought the pain. He heard Steve say, "Give me +the spray can." Then something cool and soothing spread over his face. + +An arm circled his shoulder and raised him to a sitting position. He +opened his eyes and looked into Scotty's worried face. Rick managed a +grin. "It's okay," he said hoarsely. + +"If being alive is okay, then it's okay," Scotty said with relief. "But +you're a mess, boy." + +Rick looked up dazedly. Steve was smiling at him, and next to Steve, +Orvil Harris! "Glad you're all right," the boy murmured. + +"Thanks, Rick. I'm glad you finally came around. You had us worried for +a bit. And, Rick, meet my cousin Link." + +A tall, gaunt man stepped forward. "Howdy, Rick? How do you feel?" + +"Woozy," Rick said honestly. "Help me up, somebody." + +Scotty lifted him, then guided him to a lawn chair. "Sit down. You're +too weak to stand." + +Rick subsided gratefully. He could see better now, although it was +nearly dark. There were other people seated in chairs on the Calvert's +Favor lawn. Camillion, his electronics expert, and two others. At full +length, covered by a blanket, was the guard. He looked up at Rick, his +eyes dull and malevolent, but he said nothing. + +"What happened?" Rick asked. + +Joe Vitalli stood behind Camillion and company, his riot gun ready. The +JANIG agent was wet up to his armpits. Chuck Howard came into sight from +behind Rick, and he carried an open first-aid kit. + +"You jumped for the balloon," Steve reminded him. He motioned to the +bodyguard. "This one tried a pot-shot at you and Scotty nailed him with +a spear. Then you smashed into the piling and got knocked out. The +piling was rough. Your mask was ripped off and your face dragged along +the wood just enough to take the skin off and leave you full of +splinters. We were taking the biggest splinters out when you came to. +How does your face feel?" + +"Awful," Rick said. The soothing effect of the antiseptic spray was +wearing off and the pain was returning. "Where's the balloon?" + +"On the ground behind you. Scotty got to you first, and with his weight +on it, the thing finally came down." The young agent grinned admiringly. +"We had to pry your hands off the rocket. Never saw such a stubborn cuss +in my life. Out cold, and still holding on." + +"Persistent," Rick said weakly. "Not stubborn. Did you round up the +whole gang?" + +"The whole lot." + +Lefty Camillion glared at Rick from a chair on the other side of the +small circle. + +"Why did you do it?" Rick asked. "What did you hope to gain?" + +The syndicate chief shrugged, but kept his silence. + +"I can shed a little light," Steve said. "Some of it is speculation, but +it stands up. Lefty knew his appeal against the deportation order was +almost certain to be turned down. Within a few weeks he'd be on his way +out of the country. The FBI has been trying to get the full dope on +Lefty, and one thing they found was that expensive living had taken most +of his money. He needed cash, in other words. This was the way he chose +to get it, collecting the data transmitted by the research rockets from +Wallops and selling it." + +Rick shook his head, then winced. "It's a crazy idea," he said. "I don't +know why. I just know it is. I could tell you, but I can't seem to +think." + +There were sirens far away, but getting closer. Scotty put a hand on +Rick's shoulder. "Don't try to think now, old buddy. The ambulance is +coming. Plenty of time to talk when you're feeling better." + +Rick nodded weakly. It was getting very dark. He closed his eyes and +leaned back. Scotty kept a hand on his shoulder. + +The ambulance, led by a state trooper, pulled into the grounds. An +attendant and an intern jumped out. "Who's hurt?" the intern asked. + +"This one first," Steve said. "Then the one on the ground." + +Rick felt a hand grip his chin and opened his eyes. The intern was +examining his face with a strong flashlight beam. + +"Messy but superficial," the intern said calmly. "I'll bet it hurts." + +"You win," Rick muttered. + +"How did it happen?" + +Steve described Rick's accident briefly. The intern nodded. He shined +the light into Rick's eyes and watched the pupils contract. "Possible +concussion. We'll check at the hospital." He knelt and took a roll of +cloth from his bag and unwrapped it to disclose hypodermic needles in a +sterile inner wrapper. He fitted a needle to a syringe and found a +bottle of alcohol and a vial of sedative. Working swiftly, he wiped the +vial top and Rick's arm with alcohol, then drew fluid into the syringe. +"This will help the pain," he said, and pressed the needle into Rick's +arm. + +"Now," the doctor said briskly, "let's look at the next one. What +happened to him?" + +"Fish spear in the side," Steve replied. + +Scotty and the attendant helped Rick to the ambulance. He lay down on +the stretcher gratefully and closed his eyes. Scotty stayed with him +while the attendant went to help with the bodyguard. + +"Quite a party," Rick said faintly. + +Scotty covered him with a blanket. "You missed most of it, but I'll give +you the details tomorrow. How are you feeling?" + +"Groggy." Rick's eyes were closed. He was never sure at what point he +drifted off into deep slumber. He knew only that he had no recollection +of the bodyguard being placed next to him or of the ambulance leaving +Calvert's Favor. + +Rick awoke to bright daylight. The pain in his face had subsided to a +faintly aching stiffness and he felt fine. He knew from the surroundings +that he must be in a hospital, probably at Cambridge. He groped for the +call bell and found it wound around the bedpost. He pushed it. In a few +moments a nurse came in. + +"Well," she greeted him, "how are you this morning?" + +"Hungry," Rick replied promptly. + +The nurse, a pleasant-faced woman of middle age, smiled. "That's a good +sign. Let's see what we can do. Ready for visitors?" + +"Send them in," Rick said cheerfully. "Or is it just one?" + +"Two." The nurse went to the door and beckoned. "I'll send in some +breakfast," she said, and left. + +Rick's hand touched his head gingerly. The right side of his face was +bandaged, the pad held in place by tape that crossed his forehead and +circled down under his chin. He probed gently and discovered that the +sorest places were his temple and an area just in front of his ear. + +Steve Ames and Scotty came in and greeted him with wide smiles. "The +nurse says you're hungry," Steve said. "Sounds like the old Rick." + +Scotty asked, "How about crab cakes for breakfast?" + +"Bring 'em on, followed by a dozen steamed clams and an order of +fritters," Rick replied. "How's the bodyguard?" + +"Well enough so his disposition is pretty nasty," Steve reported. "He'll +be here for at least a week before the jail cell opens wide. Seriously, +Rick, are you all right? Apparently there was no concussion." + +"I'm fine," Rick assured him. "But I'll bet this bandage makes me look +like a survivor of Custer's Last Stand." + +Steve and Scotty drew chairs up to the bed. "One last look by the doctor +and we'll take you home," Steve told him. "If you feel up to it." + +"What'll I do for clothes?" Rick asked. + +"They're in your closet," Scotty replied. "We brought them with us. Last +night we took your gear home after the hospital folks peeled you out of +it." + +"Good." Rick looked at his two friends. "Now suppose you tell me what +happened last night? I must have been out like a light while the +excitement was running high." + +Scotty nodded. "I'll start. I was behind one of the pier piles when the +bodyguard cut the balloon loose. I jumped out for a clear shot, but by +then you had put your spear through the thing. I was going to add mine +for good luck when I saw the bodyguard reach for the old equalizer and +draw a bead on you, so I shifted targets. I looked back at you just in +time to see you dangling from the stingaree like an extra tail. And +right then you went boom into the piling. But would Brant ever let go of +evidence? Not you, ol' buddy. There you dangled, limp as a wilted banana +while the balloon drifted along with you. I started toward you as fast +as I could go, which wasn't very fast with water up to my waist." + +"Wish I could have seen it," Rick said with a grin. + +"So do I," Scotty assured him. "Camillion and his friends were also +somewhat interested in you. They started down the lawn, and I was sure +they'd get to you before I could. Only then Joe and Chuck stepped out of +the bushes not ten yards from where I'd been hiding, and yelled to the +lads to hold fast and get their hands high. Steve stepped around the +corner of the barn with a .45 in his mitt and emphasized the point. +Lefty and company got the idea and skidded to a stop with all brakes +locked. I put on more speed, and Steve joined the chase." + +"I didn't see you hit the piling." Steve picked up the story. "But I +heard it. When I saw that the boys had things under control with their +shotguns, I stepped on it and got to you a few seconds after Scotty had +grabbed you by the waist. When I saw your face, I had a few bad moments +until I could take a closer look. You were a bloody mess, to put it +mildly, with more than a few splinters adding color. But I could see +your manly beauty wasn't gone forever. We pried you loose from the +rocket and stretched you out on the lawn. Your pulse was pretty good and +you were breathing steadily, so we gave you a few whiffs of oxygen from +Scotty's tank for good luck." + +Rick could appreciate how worried his friends must have been in spite of +their half-humorous report. + +"Lefty spoke up," Steve continued. "It was the only time he spoke. He's +said nothing since. He said, 'There's a first-aid kit in the kitchen.' +We got it, and went to work on you. Of course we put in a call to the +police, and asked for an ambulance. Joe Vitalli kept a watch on the +crowd and Chuck went into the barn while we pulled splinters out of you. +He found Orvil, and he also found Lincoln Harris." + +"I remember meeting him," Rick nodded. "I was too groggy to be +surprised." + +"He was okay. They hadn't mistreated him. Link said he had gone up the +creek just in time to see them launch a balloon with a rocket on it, and +they got the drop on him with rifles, then grabbed him. His curiosity +got the better of him. He'd heard about the people at Calvert's Favor +and decided to take a look, the waterways being free to all navigators. +Orvil had a bump on his head, but otherwise was all right. Lefty hasn't +talked, but I suspect he had plans for their release, once he was safely +out of the country." + +"Where is Lefty?" Rick asked. + +"He and his friends are in the local jail. You know, Lefty is a chump. +But he's also an excellent example of what happens to people when they +start operating in unfamiliar fields." + +"Why is he a chump?" Rick demanded. + +"Because every bit of data he went to so much trouble to collect was his +for the asking, if he'd only waited until it was processed." + +The light dawned. Rick knew at once what Steve meant. "That's what was +trying to get to the surface in this addled brain of mine last night. Of +course! Wallops Island is an unclassified launch site. Everything about +the launchings is reported in scientific publications! But, Steve, the +Soviet Embassy was interested in buying the stuff!" + +Steve chuckled. "Sure, but not for a very high price, I suspect. The +Reds are so suspicious they can't believe that a country like the United +States can afford to give away data. They'd buy the tapes just to make +sure we weren't holding back information they could use." + +"Even a casual investigation would have told Lefty the data from Wallops +firings is published by scientific publications," Scotty pointed out. +"How could he have been so stupid?" + +"He fell into a natural trap," Steve answered. "Most people think there +is military secrecy connected with rocket firings. They don't make a +distinction between the civilian space agency and the military services. +But the law does. It says the National Aeronautics and Space +Administration is required to report on its scientific findings." + +"And it does," Rick concluded. "Dad has already written a report on the +instruments for measuring solar X rays. The scientists who actually use +the instruments will also write a report on the data they obtained." + +"That's it," Steve agreed. "What's a little more puzzling is why the +electronics expert didn't know. I suspect he has been concerned only +with the design of telemetry equipment and not with any actual +launchings or space experiments." + +"Maybe he did know," Scotty offered. "He might have kept quiet just to +get money from Lefty for doing the work on intercepting the data. You +know we had the clues, but it never occurred to us there might be a +connection between Wallops Island and the stingarees, because who could +imagine going to all that trouble to intercept open, unclassified data +you can get by asking for it?" + +Rick had to laugh. "Whether he knew or not, it's still a joke on Lefty, +and on us for not suspecting the connection. And poor Lefty won't have a +nest egg to take back to Europe with him." + +"He won't need a nest egg," Steve corrected. "Lefty violated the law by +kidnaping Link and Orvil. I don't know whether we can make a federal +espionage rap stick or not, since the data he was collecting was +unclassified. But we'll try. Anyway, he won't be going back to Europe. +He'll end up in a Maryland prison, or a Federal one. Either way, it'll +be some years before he has to worry about money." + +"Lucky Lefty," Rick said. "A cell of his own, plenty of food, and no +worries about money. We did him a favor." + +Steve grinned. "Just don't expect any gratitude for a favor like that!" + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +Hunt the Wide Waters + + +The cruising houseboat _Spindrift_ moved sedately across Eastern Bay, +off the main Chesapeake Bay, toward the town of Claiborne. It was a +lovely day with a blue sky dotted with occasional fair-weather clouds. +The temperature was in the low eighties, the wind gentle, and the water +warm. + +Rick Brant sat on the bow of the houseboat, with his feet dangling over. +Next to him sat Jan Miller. His sister Barby, with their mother and +father, were relaxing in deck chairs on the sun deck, while Scotty +piloted the boat. + +Now and then the bow dipped, and the spray splashed up in a cooling +shower. Rick enjoyed the feeling of the cool spray, and the taste of +salt on his tongue. Jan did, too. Rick thought she made quite a picture +with her white bathing suit and golden tan contrasting with her dark +hair. His one regret was that he couldn't swim with Jan, Scotty, and the +family. Both Jan and Barby were expert Scuba divers, and he had looked +forward to spearfishing with them in the bay. The girls had brought +their own Scuba equipment in the luggage compartment of Hartson Brant's +car. + +Rick's bandages had been reduced to a single jumbo-size gauze patch, but +his folks would not allow him to go swimming until his face was entirely +healed. He knew they were right, though he chafed under the restriction. +Even so, swimming was really only a small part of the fun of +houseboating, and the ban on swimming wouldn't last long. + +Jan had put on a fresh bandage for him after breakfast that morning, and +remarked in her soft voice, "It will be completely healed in another day +or two, Rick. You can go swimming then." + +Meanwhile, he had found an acceptable substitute. Steve Ames was a +subscriber to _Bowhunting Magazine_, and in a back issue Rick had found +an article on fishing for sting rays with bow and arrow. Steve had +loaned a bow, and Rick had invested in fishing arrows and a reel for the +bow. So far, he had found only one sting ray, and in his excitement he +had failed to take into account the refraction of the water. He aimed +where the ray seemed to be--but wasn't. + +Rick's pretty, blond sister called down to him. "Rick! There's a sand +bar at the tip of that point." + +He looked to where Barby was pointing and saw a good-sized sand bar +extending out under the water. "I see it, Sis. Thanks. It will be a +while before we get there." + +Jan smiled at him. "Going to try again?" + +"You bet I am. Got to catch up with you somehow." + +Jan had bagged a ten-pound rockfish underwater on the day before, and +they had baked it in a driftwood fire on a beach at Poplar Island. Rick +was as proud as though the catch had been his own. He had been Jan's +diving instructor and had taught her how to stalk a fish. + +"You can catch up day after tomorrow when the folks will let you dive," +Jan assured him. + +"Can't wait that long," Rick replied. "I'm going to find a fifty-pound +ray right now." + +"Go get your bow," Jan said. "I'll join the others and we'll all spot +for you." + +Rick got to his feet and gave Jan a hand up. He went down the catwalk to +the cabin while she went up the ladder to the top deck. + +The bow was in the closet. Rick checked the string, then strung the bow +and selected two arrows. He went out on deck and stopped at Scotty's +side. "Looks like a good place. Cruise slow and easy and be ready to +maneuver. If there's a ray there, I want it." + +"Okay. Go for broke, Robin Hood. What I can't understand is why you +don't shoot for something edible." + +"Can't," Rick said cheerfully. "Edible-type fish don't hang around +waiting for boats to bring bowmen close." + +He climbed the rear ladder to the upper deck and joined his family. +Hartson Brant smiled at his son. "Next time we let you go off by +yourself don't get involved in mysteries. Then you won't have to bowhunt +inedible sea animals." + +"It's fun," Rick returned. "I'd want to do it even if I could spear +fish. Want to take a shot?" + +"I'll take a shot after you've boated your first ray." + +"Fair enough," Rick agreed. + +Mrs. Brant asked, "Where are we going, Rick?" + +He pointed to the peninsula. "Around that land. There's a creek on the +other side called Tilghman Creek. The cruising guide says there's a good +anchorage just inside. If it looks all right, well spend the night +there. If not, we'll go across to the Wye River. Tomorrow we'll go down +the Miles River to the town of St. Michaels and put in supplies." + +The scientist smiled at his wife. "It's nice to relax and have our +children do the work and the thinking, isn't it?" + +"It's too good to last," Mrs. Brant returned. + +Barby and Jan were standing far forward, close to where the cabin top +curved downward to the forward deck. Rick joined them. + +"This is fun!" Barby exclaimed. "Rick this houseboat was the best idea +you ever had!" + +"We all should have traveled down together," Jan said. "Then the whole +family could have been in on the case of the flying stingaree." + +"That will be the day," Barby replied. "When Rick Brant lets us in on +any real adventures, I'll know the world is coming to an end." Her tone +changed suddenly. "Look, we're getting into shallow water. Keep a sharp +lookout!" + +Rick went down the ladder to the foredeck and tied his arrowhead to the +fish line wound in the reel on his bow. He nocked the arrow and got +ready to shoot. He looked up at the two pretty girls standing above him. +"Let out a yell if you see a dark blot." + +Barby gave him a scornful look. "Of course we'll yell. Did you think we +were standing here waiting for flying saucers to land?" + +The houseboat plowed through a patch of sea grass and emerged over sandy +bottom. Rick kept careful watch, but he knew the girls would see the +first sign of a ray before he did, because of their higher vantage +point. + +Steve would enjoy this, he thought. The JANIG agent was back in +Washington, his vacation interrupted again because of the work that +remained on the case of Lefty Camillion. Lefty was in jail, too, along +with his friends. + +Rick shook his head. He was still amazed at the mobster's stupidity in +creating such an elaborate setup to get data that was his for the +asking. Apparently it just hadn't occurred to Lefty that a rocket range +could be without secrets. + +If there _had_ been secrets, though, the system was a good one. By using +the combination of a balloon and a rocket, Lefty got his equipment high +enough to intercept Wallops Island telemetry, and he did it without +anyone suspecting he was launching rockets. The rockets and balloons +dropped into the ocean, unseen--or, if seen, the first thought would be +that they had come from Wallops. The shape of the balloons also kept +anyone from suspecting that the theft of data was the real purpose. It +was a fine scheme, even though it had all been unnecessary. + +The girls let out a yell that startled Rick from his reverie. Scotty +immediately throttled back, and the boat's momentum carried it forward. +Rick watched the water, and finally saw a dark blur on the sandy bottom +ahead and to the left. He drew, then waited until he saw the dark patch +move. This time he allowed for the water's refraction. He loosed the +arrow. + +The stingaree felt the impact and reacted violently. Its tail lashed up +to strike with sharp barbs at the intruder. The tail lashed the arrow +shaft without effect. The ray's wings moved in a rippling motion like +that of some weird flying carpet. It flashed upward, and into the air, +then crashed back on the surface of the water again. It dived, heading +for the bottom. + +Rick kept the drag on his reel, letting the ray fight against the +braking action. The fish didn't give up easily. It had the primitive +nervous system and great vitality of its relatives, the sharks, and it +fought long after an edible fish, like a rockfish, would have given up. + +When the ray moved toward the now stationary boat, Rick reeled in line. +When the ray showed a new burst of energy and started away, Rick let it +fight against the drag, pulling out line. + +The girls were down on the foredeck with him now, and Scotty had joined +the Brants on the upper deck in order to get a better view of the fight. + +Finally, the ray tired. Rick drew it in close to the hull and waited +while the vicious tail lashed futilely. Jan took the gaff that Scotty +handed down to her and gave it to Rick. He hooked the sea beast and +lifted it from the water. + +"Stand clear!" he warned. "I don't want either of you getting hit with +that tail!" + +The girls hurried up the ladder to safety, and Rick lifted the stingaree +to the deck. + +It was a small one, weighing about fifteen pounds. The wet, leathery +body glistened, and the kite-shaped wings flapped like those of some +fantastic bird. + +Scotty looked down at the ray. "You caught a cripple," he said. "There's +something wrong with it." + +Rick looked up. He knew the answer, but he asked the question anyway, +grinning. "Yes? What's wrong with it?" + +"It can't fly," Scotty said. + + * * * * * + +RICK BRANT SCIENCE STORIES + +[Illustration: RICK BRANT] + +Rick Brant is the boy who with his pal Scotty lives on an island called +Spindrift and takes part in so many thrilling adventures and baffling +mysteries involving science and electronics. You can share every one of +these adventures in the pages of Rick's books. They are available at +your book store in handsome, low-priced editions. + + THE ROCKET'S SHADOW + THE LOST CITY + SEA GOLD + 100 FATHOMS UNDER + THE WHISPERING BOX MYSTERY + THE PHANTOM SHARK + SMUGGLERS' REEF + THE CAVES OF FEAR + STAIRWAY TO DANGER + THE GOLDEN SKULL + THE WAILING OCTOPUS + THE ELECTRONIC MIND READER + THE SCARLET LAKE MYSTERY + THE PIRATES OF SHAN + THE BLUE GHOST MYSTERY + THE EGYPTIAN CAT MYSTERY + THE FLAMING MOUNTAIN + THE FLYING STINGAREE + THE RUBY RAY MYSTERY + THE VEILED RAIDERS + RICK BRANT'S SCIENCE PROJECTS + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Flying Stingaree, by Harold Leland Goodwin + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE FLYING STINGAREE *** + +***** This file should be named 30401.txt or 30401.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/0/4/0/30401/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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