CHAPTER XVI
Night Flight
It seemed to Rick that his head scarcely had touched the pillow whenthe ringing of the phone penetrated his slumber. The luminous dial ofhis watch showed quarter past three. For an instant he shivered. Theringing could mean only one thing.
He heard the creaking of his bedspring and the soft pat of Scotty'sbare feet as his pal swung to the floor. Scotty had the faculty ofwaking instantly and moving into action. By the time Rick reached thehall, he was already lifting the phone from its cradle.
"Yes?" he said softly. "Okay, Cap'n Mike. How long do you think itwill take him to get out past the fishing grounds? All right. Give usa 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 stoodblinking in its sudden glare. "What did he say?"
"Brad just left. He was phoning from Jake's Grill. I guess that's theonly place in Seaford that's open all night."
"My guess that he wouldn't go out tonight was certainly bum," Ricksaid. "The smuggling business must be good. How long did he figure itwould 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 timebefore daybreak. It starts to get light at about half past four atthis time of year. Well, let's get dressed."
Rick slipped into slacks and a heavy woolen shirt, because it would becold before dawn. Then he put on woolen socks and moccasins. He wasgetting his motion-picture camera from the closet when Scotty came in,fully dressed. Rick tucked an extra reel of infrared film into hisshirt 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 withlanding 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 downthe stairs. He left the camera on the porch and they walked to theboat landing, hiking briskly because it was chilly. Their plan was totake both boats to the Whiteside landing and leave one of them there,to provide a means for getting back to the island after they hadlanded at the airport. Probably it would have been more sensible tohave left the plane at the airport, too, but that meant a walk fromthe boat landing and Rick hadn't been sure how much time they wouldhave.
In a short while they were back at Spindrift. They picked up thecamera and walked past the orchard to where the Cub was parked,looking a little unfamiliar with the landing lights shining in themoonlight.
Rick stopped for another look at the sky. He had studied itperiodically from the moment they left the house. There was a littlefair weather cumulus cloud scattered here and there, but nothing thatwould interfere with visibility. There was a good moon, between a halfand three-quarters full. Rick would have preferred the brightest offull moons, but he philosophized that he shouldn't expect maximumconditions.
A glance at his watch showed that slightly less than a half-hour hadelapsed since the phone call. It would be another half-hour beforeBrad reached the probable contact point beyond the fishing grounds,and it would take the Cub only about twelve minutes to reach it. Therewas no use in starting just yet. He sat down on the grass under thewing of the Cub and hurriedly stood up again. The dew already hadfallen and the grass was wet.
Scotty chuckled. "Something bite you?"
"Thought we could sit it out for a little while," Rick explained. "Butit's too wet." He knew he couldn't sit still, anyway. He wanted to getinto 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 wheelchocks, and got in. "Relax," he advised.
"I'm trying to," Rick returned. "Buckle in. Here we go." He fastenedhis seat belt and Scotty did likewise.
The grass landing strip stretched ahead for a distance that seemedmuch shorter in the moonlight. Rick glued his eyes to the point whereit ended and pushed forward on the throttle. He wouldn't need lightsfor the takeoff. The plane shuddered and he released the brakes. Thetail came up and the Cub rolled, picking up speed rapidly, then liftedsmoothly from the grass. Airborne!
The horizon was clearly defined and Rick breathed a sigh of relief. Notrouble in flying level now. Their only bad moment would come inlanding. He climbed to almost a thousand feet, then set a course forWhiteside. He wanted to get a look at the airport approaches by night.In a short space he saw the field beacon and then the red boundarylights. He throttled back and let the nose drop, crossing the field atless than two hundred feet. It looked easy. The tension left him andhe flew easily, automatically. He had been flying the Cub for so longthat it behaved like part of him, without conscious effort. He climbedsteadily in a shallow turn until his altimeter read two thousand feetand he was heading out to sea. Far below, Spindrift Island was a darkextension of the land, almost completely framed by silvery, moonlitwater.
"Pretty," Scotty said.
Rick nodded. He knew his mother and father were listening to theplane's drone down there. They wouldn't sleep much until he was back.
They had spent ten minutes making the long sweep over Whiteside. Rickglanced at his watch, then banked around on the predetermined course.He put the Cub in a slow climb.
"We'll arrive a little north of the grounds," he said. "Watch for shiplights. We may see the supply ship before we see Brad Marbek."
"Maybe they've already met," Scotty remarked.
Rick shook his head. "They can't have met yet. Brad would have to gopretty far out. Otherwise, the trawlers going to fish would be able tosee him and his supply ship on the horizon."
Scotty shivered. "It's getting cold."
They were climbing steadily. The altimeter read slightly less thanfour thousand feet. At that height, the men on the ships belowwouldn't know what kind of plane was overhead. They flew in silencefor several minutes, then Rick warned, "We're getting there."
"I'm watching." Scotty had taken the binoculars from behind the seatwhere they had been left. Suddenly he grabbed Rick's arm. "There. Deadahead."
Rick banked the plane a little so he could see from the side window.Far ahead and below, red lights and white lights twinkled against thesheen of the sea. Some distance separated the lights and he knew hewas seeing both vessels. They had not yet met. His pulse began topound a little. He pulled back slightly on the control wheel and letthe Cub climb.
"We'll continue straight on," he told Scotty. "Then we'll turn andcome back at a lower altitude."
"Okay." Scotty leaned out into the slip stream and put the binocularson the lights. When the ships were behind, he pulled his head in againand rubbed his cold face. "That other ship is a freighter, but notvery big. I'd say less than four thousand tons. It's probably acoaster."
Rick wondered, if it was a coastal vessel, why he hadn't foundanything in the New York paper at the _Morning Record_. It wasprobable, he decided, that the ship was heading for some other port,maybe Boston.
"Funny," Scotty said. "The other ship is heading south."
"South? No wonder we didn't find anything in the shipping news.Listen, Scotty, what if that's just an American coaster? You know whatthat would mean? That ship would have to rendezvous with someocean-going freighter, or maybe several of them." His voice hushed."What if we've run into something that's only a small part of a reallybig smuggling ring?"
His ready imagination pictured the coastal vessel sailing regularlybetween Baltimore and Portland, Maine, meeting ocean-going smugglersand in turn supplying small contraband runners like Brad Marbek andthe Kelsos all the
way up and down the coast.
"I expected some big ocean freighter," Scotty remarked.
They had been flying steadily out to sea. Now Rick banked around soScotty could look through the glasses once more.
"I can see them on the horizon," Scotty said, glasses to his eyes."They've met. The lights are almost together. Hey! The lights justwent out!"
"Probably turned out so as not to attract the attention of any passingships," Rick guessed. "They can't see, as we can, that they're theonly ships around. We'll stall for a while before going back. Givethem time to get rigged for passing cargo."
He lifted the camera to his lap, then trimmed the Cub so it would flyby itself. Scotty took the power pack on his own lap and checked againto see that the dynamo-driven spring was wound tight.
Rick had connected the infrared attachment so that a switch was handyunder his thumb when his left hand held the camera in position. Thecamera itself, run by its own spring, was operated by his right hand.He pressed the infrared switch and heard the dynamo whine softly.Scotty immediately wound it another half turn to bring the spring upto full tension again.
"Wish I had enough hours to do the flying," he said regretfully. "Thenyou could photograph without worrying about the plane."
Scotty had his license, but he had not yet accumulated the experiencethat would fit him for an adventure like tonight's. Or rather thismorning's.
Rick twisted the lens barrel, making sure it was full open, then hetwisted the focusing ring until it stopped. Now the camera was focusedon infinity. All he needed to do was aim and shoot. He looked atScotty. His friend's face was a white blur in the dimness inside theplane. "Think we've given them enough time?"
"I think so. They wouldn't need much. The supply ship would have cargobooms all rigged and the first load in the cargo net. Better turnback."
Rick banked, letting the Cub slip as he did so. They lost altituderapidly and he watched the silvery sheen of the ocean resolve itselfinto waves. There was not enough wind to make foam or whitecaps. Thetwo ships would have no trouble coming alongside and moving cargo. Heleveled off at five hundred feet on a course that would take themdirectly over the vessels.
Both boys strained to see ahead, and both saw the blurred outline onthe horizon at the same time. Gradually the outline became cleareruntil finally they flashed directly over the two ships.
"Here we go," Rick said, and the calmness of his voice surprised him.He rocked the Cub up in a tight bank that would take them in a narrowcircle with the ships at the center. His hands made delicateadjustments in the plane's balance so that it would practically flyitself. His feet were light on the rudder pedals. He lifted his handfrom the wheel and the Cub held course without a waver.
"Now," he said. He took the camera and pressed it to his cheek,gripping it firmly. His eye found the telescope and he pressed theinfrared switch.
Scotty's hand was poised, ready to grab the control wheel if the planestarted to slip. The power pack was held tightly between his knees,and his right hand was on the winding handle.
The scene lighted up for Rick. He saw four men on the trawler's deck,looking up at him. He saw the cargo net suspended almost over theirheads, and he saw men on the deck of the freighter. His right indexfinger pressed and the camera started to roll.
The Cub held its tight circle and Rick kept his finger down. Then hefelt the camera stop and knew it had to be wound. Swiftly he shiftedbalance and turned the winding handle until the spring was at fulltension again. But his shifting of weight had disturbed the plane'sdelicate balance. He had to put the camera down and work the tabcontrols that trimmed the plane with his left hand while his rightkept it steady.
It took a few moments. Meanwhile, Scotty had wound the dynamo tightonce more. When Rick looked out, the cargo net was no longer in sight.The men on the freighter's deck were bent over another cargo net,working at cases that evidently were heavy. Rick kept the camera onthem, shooting steadily, rewinding when necessary. Then he shifted hisview to the trawler. The men were standing over a gaping fish hatch.Evidently they were stowing the first load while the men on thefreighter prepared the second.
"I have enough," Rick said finally. There was nothing more to be seen,unless they wanted to wait for the second load to change ships.
"How much footage did you get?" Scotty asked.
"About fifty feet, maybe a little less."
"That ought to be enough. Let's go home."
Rick swung the Cub in a circle until they were facing the direction ofthe mainland according to compass reading, then he leveled off. "Iwonder what they thought about the plane overhead," he said.
"It probably scared them stiff," Scotty replied. "Chances are BradMarbek had a good idea who it was."
The one thing they had overlooked in their plan was Brad's possiblereaction to seeing the plane, Rick realized suddenly. Great grinninggoldfish! What if he really got scared? They might have defeatedtheir own purpose by making him jettison his contraband!
Then he reasoned that Brad wouldn't dump his cargo if he could helpit. Anything worth smuggling was too valuable to be dumped justbecause two kids saw it transferred. But still . . .
"If I were Brad," he said, "I'd get up a full head of steam for CreekHouse and unload that stuff. How about you?"
"Because you'd be afraid those two wild men in the airplane wouldreport it to the police? Maybe you're right, Rick. We'd better getCaptain Douglas and his men on the job right away!"
The street lights of Whiteside were in sight now. Rick took a bearingfrom them and swung slightly northward to pick up the airport. Then hesaw the beacon. He had not bothered to climb after leaving the ships,so he passed over Spindrift at an altitude of five hundred feet. Heknew his parents would hear the Cub and know he had returned this farsafely. His palms were moist with perspiration and he had to swallowto clear his throat. Now that the moment of landing was here, hisnervousness was returning. He leaned forward, watching for the airportmarker lights and saw them directly ahead. The airport wasn't big orimportant enough to rate runway lights or a lighted wind sock, butthose wouldn't have helped much anyway. He knew from watching the seathat the wind was negligible. And anywhere he landed on the fieldwould be all right.
He throttled down and the nose automatically dropped to the correctglide position. Then, as he saw the red marker lights rushing to meethim, he threw on the landing lights. White swaths of light picked outtrees and the boundary fence. The Cub flashed across into the open,dropping steadily. The ground seemed to come up appallingly fast, butRick kept his nerve. It was only an illusion, he knew. The Cub was atthe correct approach angle. But the illusion made it hard to tell whento level off. He waited a second too long, and his wheels touched andthe Cub bounced. He threw power into the engine and the little planelifted into the air once more.
"Tricky," he muttered when Scotty looked at him.
Scotty sat up a little straighter. "You're telling me?"
Rick went around the airport again and banked around tightly into theapproach. His jaw was set firmly and he watched the field so closelythat his eyes watered. He'd make it this time! He cut the gun and thenose dropped. He waited as the runway came up, trying to gauge hisheight by the grass that showed clearly in the landing lights. Slowlyhe eased the control wheel back and the plane leveled off. Slowly andmore slowly. They were eating up runway rapidly. Scotty shot him ananxious look. Then, with feather lightness, the wheels touched. Thetail settled gracefully and they were on the ground. Rick applied thebrakes and the Cub slowed to a stop. He wiped his forehead.
Scotty leaned over and solemnly shook hands.
Rick gave the plane the gun again and taxied rapidly to the hangar,switching out his lights as he went.
Made it, he thought jubilantly. First night flight, safely over. Andthat's not all. We got what we went after!