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Smugglers' Reef

<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> <h2>The Redheaded Kelsos</h2> The Spindrift motor launch rolled gently in the offshore swell as the New Jersey coast slid by off the starboard beam. Behind the wheel, Rick steered easily, following the shore line. In the aft cockpit, Scotty prepared hand lines for the fishing they planned to do to keep up appearances. Their decision to revisit Smugglers' Reef had been made on the spur of the moment. The case of the wrecked trawler was none of their business, and Rick had learned in the past that it was a good idea to keep his nose out of things that didn't concern him. But he could no more resist a mystery than he could resist a piece of Mrs. Brant's best chocolate cake. He watched the shore line as the launch sped along and tried to assure himself that a little look around wasn't really sticking his nose into the case. After all, it wouldn't hurt to satisfy his curiosity, would it? Scotty came forward and joined him. "All set. We ought to find some fish right off the tip of the reef. If you intend to do any fishing, that is."[23] "Of course we'll fish," Rick said. "What else did we come here for?" "Nothing," Scotty agreed. "This is a fishing expedition in the truest sense of the word." Rick looked at his pal suspiciously. "What was behind that remark?" Scotty chuckled. "Are you fooling yourself? Or are you trying to fool me?" Rick had to laugh, too. "Okay. Let's admit it. We're so used to excitement that we have to go fishing for it if none comes our way. But seriously, Scotty, this is none of our business. The local officials can handle it without any help from us. So let's not get too involved." Scotty leaned back against the seat and grinned lazily. "Think you can take your own advice?" "I think so," Rick said, with his fingers crossed. Scotty pointed to a low line ahead. "There's the reef. See the light on the tip?" "Couldn't very well miss it," Rick said. The light was painted with red and white stripes and it stood out sharply against the sky. He gave Scotty a side glance. "What did you make out of all that talk last night? Think Captain Tyler ran on the reef purposely?" Scotty shook his head. "He didn't strike me as a thief, and that's what he'd have to be to wreck his trawler on purpose." "I liked his looks, too. Then Cap'n Mike said he didn't drink, so his statement that he was under the influence of liquor wouldn't hold water, either. What's the answer?" "If we knew, would we be here?" Scotty waved at the shore. "How far does this stuff extend?"[24] The water ended in an almost solid wall of rushes and salt-marsh growth that would be far above even a tall man's head if he stood at sea level. Now and then a small inlet appeared where the water flowed too rapidly for plant life to grow. "There's about a mile of the stuff," Rick said. "It stops at the reef. I'm not sure how wide it is, but I'd guess it averages a quarter of a mile. It's called Brendan's Marsh, after an old man who got lost in it once. It was over a week before he was found." They were approaching the reef at a good clip. "What do we do first?" Scotty asked. Rick shrugged. He had no plan of action. "Guess we just sort of wander around and wait for a bright idea to hit us." "Lot of other people with the same idea, I guess." Scotty nodded toward the reef. Rick saw a number of figures moving around the wreck of the trawler. "Wonder who they are?" "Probably a lot of folks who are just curious—like two in this boat. And I wouldn't be surprised if the law was doing a little looking around by daylight, too." "We'll soon see." Rick turned the launch inshore as they approached the reef. "Let's tie up at the Creek House dock. Then we can walk down the reef and join the rest." "Suits me." Rick rounded the corner of the salt marsh and steered the launch into the creek, reducing speed as he did so. On their right, the marsh stretched inland along the sluggish creek bank. On their left, the high old bulk of the Creek House rose from a yard that was strewn with[25] rubble and years' accumulation of weeds and litter. A hundred yards up the creek was the gray, rickety piling of the hotel dock. "That's it," Rick said. Scotty went up to the bow and took the bow line, ready to drop it over a piling. Rick started a wide turn that would bring him into the dock, then cut the engine. The launch slowed as it lost momentum and drifted into place perfectly. "Hey! Get out of there!" Both boys looked up. Coming from the hotel's side door on a dead run was a stocky youth of about their own age. He was between Rick and Scotty in height, and he had hair the color of a ripe carrot. Swinging from one hand was a rifle. "Is that hair real or has he got a wig on?" Scotty asked. "It's real," Rick returned. His forehead creased. The dock had never been considered private property—at least not since the hotel was abandoned. He waited to see what the redhead wanted. The boy ran down the loose wooden surface toward them, his face red and angry. "Get that boat out of here!" Rick looked into a pair of furious eyes the color of seaweed, set above a wide nose and thin mouth. "Why?" he asked. "This is private property. Cast off." "Where's your sign?" Scotty asked. The boy grinned unpleasantly. "Don't need a sign." He patted the stock of his rifle. "Got this." "Plan to use it?" Scotty asked calmly.[26] "If I have to. Now cast off those lines and get out." Rick's temper began to fray a little. "You're using the wrong tone of voice," he said gently. "You should say 'I'm terribly sorry, fellows, but this is private property. Do you mind tying up somewhere else?' Ask us nicely like that and we'll do it." The redhead half lifted the rifle. "Wise guy, huh? I warned you. Now cast off those lines and get out." He dropped his hand to the lever of the rifle as though to pump a cartridge into place. Scotty tensed. He said softly, "Get gay with that rifle and I'll climb up there and feed it to you breech first." Rick saw the color rise to the boy's face and the muscles in his throat tighten. "Easy, Scotty," he said warningly. He knew, as Scotty did, that no normal person would wave a rifle at anyone for mere daytime accidental trespassing, but he had a hunch the young carrot-top would not react normally. "Jimmy!" The three of them looked to the hotel as the hail came. A big man with red hair several shades darker than the boy's was waving from the side door of the Creek House. He walked toward them rapidly. "Okay, Pop," Carrottop called. "I told 'em to get out." As the man approached, Rick saw that there was a strong resemblance between the man and the boy. Evidently they were father and son. The man had the same thin lips, the same seaweed-green eyes. His face was almost square. It was a tough face, Rick thought. The newcomer looked at his son and jerked his thumb toward the hotel. "Okay, Jimmy, get into the house."[27] The boy turned and walked off without a word. The man surveyed Rick and Scotty briefly. "Don't mind Jimmy. He was probably rude, and I'm sorry for it. But this is private property and I can't allow you to tie up here." He motioned to the high board fence along the front of the hotel. The fence ran down to the edge of the creek. "Anywhere this side of the fence is private." Rick nodded. "It didn't use to be. That's why we tied up here. I'm sorry, Mr...." "Kelso. I rented the place a few weeks ago. Haven't had time to get signs up yet." "We'll shove off right away, Mr. Kelso. Sorry we intruded." "Okay." Rick started the engine, threw the launch into reverse, and backed out. Scotty sat down beside him. "How about that?" "Funny," Rick said. "Didn't Cap'n Mike say a family named Kelso had taken the hotel because their little boy was sick and needed fresh air?" "That's what he said," Scotty affirmed. "Do you suppose that was the sick little boy?" "If he's sick," Rick said grimly, "it's trigger fever. I think he'd like to take a shot at someone." "It would sure be an effective way of discouraging trespassers. Why do you suppose they crave privacy so much?" "Beats me," Rick said. "We'll have to ask Cap'n Mike." The launch passed the edge of the Creek House fence and came to a strip of sandy beach. The road ended a[28] few feet from the beach. A number of cars were parked in the area, and along Smugglers' Reef were the occupants, most of them standing around the wreck. "I'll run the launch in as far as I can," Risk directed, "then you jump ashore with the anchor." "Okay." Scotty went forward and took the small anchor from its lashings, making sure he had plenty of line. As Rick pushed the bow of the launch into shallow water until it grated on the sand, Scotty jumped across the six feet of open water to the beach. Rick took the keys from the ignition and joined him. Together they pulled the launch in a foot or two more, then dug the anchor into the sand. It would hold until the tide changed. "Let's go look at the wreck," Scotty said. Rick nodded. "Afterward, I think we'd better go look up Cap'n Mike. I have some questions I want to ask him." "About what?" "Something he said last night. And about the Kelsos." They reached the old light tower and paused to examine it. Salt air had etched the steel of the frame badly. The tower was almost forty feet high, about twice as tall as the present light. At its top had been a wooden platform where the lightkeeper had once stood to care for the light. A rusty metal ladder led up one side of the tower to where the platform had been. Rick wondered why the authorities had abandoned the tower in favor of the smaller light at the very tip of the reef and decided it probably was because having the warning signal at the very point was more practical. That way, a ship needed only to clear the light without[29] worrying about how far away from the light it had to pass. "Let's go," Scotty said. "Nothing interesting about this relic." They joined the group of men at the wreck of the Sea Belle and saw that the wreck was being inspected, probably by the insurance people. A question to one of the watchers affirmed the guess. Rick asked, "What do they expect to find?" "Search me." Scotty nudged Rick. "We won't have to look far for Cap'n Mike. There he is." The old man was seated on a rock, whittling at a twig. Seemingly, he paid no attention to anything going on. Now and then he looked out to sea, but mostly he paid attention to his whittling. Rick walked over, Scotty behind him. "Good morning, Cap'n Mike." "'Morning, boys." "Remember us?" "Sure do. Where's the reporter?" "He's not with us. We came down to do a little fishing." Bright eyes twinkled at them. "Fishing, eh? What kind?" "We thought we might get some blackfish at the end of the reef," Scotty replied. "You might at that," Cap'n Mike said. "You might gets crabs off the end of the Creek House pier, too, if Red Kelso would let you try. Did you ask him?" Rick grinned. Cap'n Mike might not seem to be paying attention, but evidently he didn't miss much.[30] "We didn't ask him," he said. "Maybe we didn't even see him." He knew Cap'n Mike could have seen the boat vanish upcreek and return, but he wouldn't have been able to see past the fence. "Maybe you didn't," the old captain conceded. "But you sure saw somebody, and it had to be Kelso or that boy of his." "Why do they want so much privacy?" Scotty demanded. Cap'n Mike ignored the question. "You really got any fishing gear in that launch?" "Hand lines," Rick said. "That's good as anything. Now, I always say a man can't think proper in a mob like this. Too distracting. So let's go fishing and do some thinking. What say?" Rick's glance met Scotty's. Cap'n Mike had his own way of doing things. They had nothing to lose by humoring him. "Let's go," Scotty said. As they passed the wreck, Rick stopped for a moment to look at it again. The air was even heavier than the night before with the reek of dead fish. They were scattered along the reef in shoals ten feet wide. By daylight he could see that the trawler was finished. She had broken her back and torn out a good part of her bottom. She must have been really making knots to hit like that. "Cap'n, exactly what was the weather like when Tom Tyler hit?" Rick asked. "Not bad. Visibility might have been less than real perfect, but it wouldn't have interfered with him seeing the light."[31] "Would it have interfered with him seeing the reef if the light had been out?" "I reckon it would. Until he was right on it, anyway." Rick turned the information over in his mind. "Were any other trawlers out last night?" "Plenty. The Sea Belle was first in, but the rest were right behind. The light was burning, all right. I thought of that, too, son." "My name is Rick Brant. This is Don Scott. We call him Scotty." "Knew you both," Cap'n Mike said. "I subscribe to the paper your friend writes for. Seen your pictures couple of times. Didn't you just get back from somewhere?" "The South Pacific," Scotty said. "Used to sail those waters. Reckon things have changed some." "The war changed the islands," Scotty told him. "Especially...." he stopped suddenly and took Rick's arm. "Look." The elder Kelso was standing in front of the launch. "What do you suppose he's after?" Rick asked. Before Scotty or Cap'n Mike could think up an answer, Kelso turned and walked back along the beach. There was a foot or two of space between the water of the creek and the hotel fence. The redheaded man slipped through it and vanished from sight. "I'll bet he came out just to look the boat over," Scotty guessed, "and there's only one reason I can think of why he'd do that. He wanted to see if he could find out more about us."[32] "Unless he admired the launch and wanted a closer look at it," Rick added. Cap'n Mike snorted. "Red Kelso's got no eye for beauty, in boats, anyway." "Then my guess must have been right," Scotty said. "Right or wrong," Cap'n Mike retorted, "I can't say's I like it. I wish you boys had talked to me before you decided to invade Salt Creek!" <hr style="width: 65%;" /> [33] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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