That suit?"

"That will be fine," Rick replied. "But we may have a long wait if Brad's at Creek House."

"Wouldn't be surprised," Cap'n Mike nodded. "Likely two hours. What say you come into my shack? Might be able to scare up a sandwich or two to pa.s.s away the time."

Rick looked at Jerry doubtfully. "There's a paper tomorrow morning.

Don't you have to get back and help get it out?"

"Not tonight." Jerry grinned his pleasure. "Duke said to stick with you two and forget everything else. First time I've had an a.s.signment like this. I have to admit I sort of like it."

"Good," Cap'n Mike grunted. "Then let's go see what we can find to eat. I got so interested in watching for Brad Marbek that I plumb forgot about food."

It was after eleven when the four left the shack and climbed into Jerry's car for the short ride to the pier. At Scotty's suggestion, they parked the car on the edge of town and walked to the dock where the dredger was tied up. They stayed in the shadows, hopeful that they would not be seen, and Rick thought they reached the dredge without attracting attention.

The dredge was deserted, but Cap'n Mike made himself at home. He led the boys into the wheelhouse, a small shack on the aft end, and they took places at the windows. They had arrived too early, as it developed. It was a full half-hour before the _Albatross_ rounded the fish pier and steamed into her berth. The pier workers were gathered at the berth, obviously waiting impatiently. They had finished unloading the last of the other trawlers a full fifteen minutes before.

Rick studied the rigging of the ship as it approached and memorized the position of her running lights. The _Albatross_ had only one distinctive feature; her crow's-nest, from which a lookout was kept for schools of fish, was basket-shaped instead of being perfectly round. The other trawlers, he had noted, had crow's-nests that looked like barrels. He knew he wouldn't forget the way the nest narrowed toward the bottom.

The _Albatross_ was low in the water. As she slid into position and threw out her lines, he saw clearly the Plimsoll mark on her bow. The Plimsoll mark was a series of measurements in feet, running from the maximum depth at which the ship should lie in the water down toward the keel. By looking at it, the skipper could tell at once how much load he had aboard. Now, the top figure was barely showing.

Rick studied it, and his forehead creased. "That's funny," he said.

He pointed it out to the others. "She's full up. You'd think she would be lighter after dropping off a load at Creek House."

"You would for a fact," Cap'n Mike muttered. "What do you suppose they're smuggling? Must be feathers. 'Cause if you added a few more pounds to the load she's carrying now, she'd be awash."

Rick felt a pang of doubt. Were they away off the beam on their guesses about the Kelsos and the _Albatross_? The ship certainly would be higher in the water had they unloaded cargo.

"Maybe they didn't unload tonight," Scotty ventured. "It would be smart of Marbek to just visit Creek House for nothing once in a while, to throw off any watchers. That way, he could make his story about visiting his relatives seem a little more plausible."

Cap'n Mike had told them that was the story Brad was handing out to those who dared question him about his visits to Creek House.

Rick's face cleared. "That must be it," he agreed. "But look, if he visited the Kelsos tonight, it doesn't look as though he would make contact with his supply ship for a couple of days."

"Suits me," Scotty stated. "I'm not overly anxious to go tooting off into the wild black yonder in the Cub, if you come right down to it.

I'd rather Brad took his time, to let me get used to the idea."

He had stated so neatly what Rick was feeling that he had to grin. He had been wishing he had more confidence in his ability to land safely at night.

"Amen," he said fervently.

CHAPTER XVI

Night Flight

It seemed to Rick that his head scarcely had touched the pillow when the ringing of the phone penetrated his slumber. The luminous dial of his watch showed quarter past three. For an instant he shivered. The ringing could mean only one thing.

He heard the creaking of his bedspring and the soft pat of Scotty's bare feet as his pal swung to the floor. Scotty had the faculty of waking instantly and moving into action. By the time Rick reached the hall, he was already lifting the phone from its cradle.

"Yes?" he said softly. "Okay, Cap'n Mike. How long do you think it will take him to get out past the fishing grounds? All right. Give us a call about breakfast time and we'll let you know how we made out."

The boys hurried to Rick's room. Rick snapped on the light and stood blinking in its sudden glare. "What did he say?"

"Brad just left. He was phoning from Jake's Grill. I guess that's the only place in Seaford that's open all night."

"My guess that he wouldn't go out tonight was certainly b.u.m," Rick said. "The smuggling business must be good. How long did he figure it would take Brad to reach the other side of the fishing grounds?"

"About an hour."

Rick looked at his watch again. "That doesn't give him much time before daybreak. It starts to get light at about half past four at this time of year. Well, let's get dressed."

Rick slipped into slacks and a heavy woolen shirt, because it would be cold before dawn. Then he put on woolen socks and moccasins. He was getting his motion-picture camera from the closet when Scotty came in, fully dressed. Rick tucked an extra reel of infrared film into his shirt pocket and grinned at his pal.

"How's your nerve?"

"Mine doesn't matter," Scotty returned cheerfully. "How's yours?

That's what counts."

"We'll soon know." Rick paused as his mother called softly. "Yes, Mom?"

He walked to the door of his parents' bedroom.

"Be very careful," Rick's mother cautioned. And Hartson Brant added, "Don't forget distances look different at night, son, even with landing lights."

"I'll be careful," he promised. "We'll be back in a little while."

He motioned to Scotty and then snapped out the lights and went down the stairs. He left the camera on the porch and they walked to the boat landing, hiking briskly because it was chilly. Their plan was to take both boats to the Whiteside landing and leave one of them there, to provide a means for getting back to the island after they had landed at the airport. Probably it would have been more sensible to have left the plane at the airport, too, but that meant a walk from the boat landing and Rick hadn't been sure how much time they would have.

In a short while they were back at Spindrift. They picked up the camera and walked past the orchard to where the Cub was parked, looking a little unfamiliar with the landing lights shining in the moonlight.

Rick stopped for another look at the sky. He had studied it periodically from the moment they left the house. There was a little fair weather c.u.mulus cloud scattered here and there, but nothing that would interfere with visibility. There was a good moon, between a half and three-quarters full. Rick would have preferred the brightest of full moons, but he philosophized that he shouldn't expect maximum conditions.

A glance at his watch showed that slightly less than a half-hour had elapsed since the phone call. It would be another half-hour before Brad reached the probable contact point beyond the fishing grounds, and it would take the Cub only about twelve minutes to reach it. There was no use in starting just yet. He sat down on the gra.s.s under the wing of the Cub and hurriedly stood up again. The dew already had fallen and the gra.s.s was wet.

Scotty chuckled. "Something bite you?"

"Thought we could sit it out for a little while," Rick explained. "But it's too wet." He knew he couldn't sit still, anyway. He wanted to get into the air, to get the feel of things. "Crank 'er up," he requested.

He slid into the pilot's seat and placed the camera beside him.

Scotty walked around to the front of the plane and started the engine.

Then, as Rick warmed it, he untied the tie ropes, removed the wheel chocks, and got in. "Relax," he advised.

"I'm trying to," Rick returned. "Buckle in. Here we go." He fastened his seat belt and Scotty did likewise.