CHAPTER VI
The "Albatross"
"Know what I like about you?" Scotty said.
"My charm," Rick answered. "Or is it that I like food as much as youdo?"
"Neither. What I like about you is your caution. The very soul ofprudence, that's what you are. Your instinct for self-preservation isexceeded by only one thing."
"My," Rick said. "That's almost poetic. What's the one thing?"
"Your instinct for getting into trouble," Scotty stated. "You get awarning to stay away from Seaford, so what happens next?" He waved atthe scenery as they sped past in Gus's old car. "Naturally we head forSeaford at ninety miles an hour, not even stopping to pick up ourpress cards."
Rick laughed. "Be accurate. This old heap can't go ninety miles anhour. Besides, it's only my never-ending search for the truth thatleads me to Seaford. I want to find out if the warning is true."
Scotty sighed. "Whoever it was that phoned should know you as I do. Ifwe needed anything to sharpen the famous Brant nose for trouble, itwas that phone call. I suppose now we'll spend all our waking hourscommuting back and forth to Seaford."
"Not all," Rick corrected. "Some of the time we'll be in Seaford."
"Any idea who it was that phoned?"
"It could have been anyone. But I don't think it was Carrots Kelso.The voice was an older man's. Maybe it was his father, but I didn'thear enough of his voice to recognize it."
"Why should anyone worry about us looking into things?"
"Respect," Rick said, wincing as the car bounced across Salt CreekBridge. "Respect for the genius of Spindrift's two leading detectives.Can't think of any other reason."
"Unless whatever is going on would be so obvious to anyone who tookthe trouble to investigate that the party concerned doesn't even wanttwo simple-minded souls like us poking around."
"Such modesty," Rick clucked.
"Okay, Hawkshaw," Scotty said resignedly. "On to Seaford. We'llprobably find the answer just as the villain lowers the boom on us."
Rick swung into the Seaford turnoff and slowed for the main street. Hewent straight ahead to the water front and then turned right. In a fewmoments the car drew up in front of Cap'n Mike's shack.
The captain opened the door and peered out. "Be with you in a minute."In much less than a minute he was out again, clad in a jacket andofficer's cap.
"Howdy," he greeted them. "See much from your airplane?"
"How did you know it was our airplane?" Rick asked curiously.
"Pshaw! You don't give people credit for knowing much, do you? I'llbet everyone in Seaford knows about your airplane. Everyone who readsthe Whiteside _Morning Record_, anyway."
"But all Cubs look alike," Rick protested, "and most of them arepainted yellow."
Cap'n Mike snorted. "What of it? No other yellow planes in this area,and you been seen on the ground in Seaford twice already. What wouldanyone think? Especially when you're on a direct bearing for Spindriftwhen you leave?"
"He's got something there," Scotty said. "It's a logical conclusion."
Rick had to agree. "Well, you're the guide, Cap'n. Where to?"
"The pier." Cap'n Mike looked at the fast-fading light in the west."It's time for the trawlers to be coming in. Reckon we'll talk to acouple of folks and get a look at the _Albatross_ and her crew."
Rick turned the car around and headed for town. "Why don't you tell usall you know about the _Albatross_ visiting Creek House?"
"I intended to. First off, the _Albatross_ has been there three timesthat I know of. And each time she has put in on her way back from thefishing grounds. Now, that's mighty strange. First thing a captainthinks of is getting his fish into port. But not Brad Marbek. Instead,he lays at the Creek House pier until nigh onto midnight. Then heputs into the wharf and unloads his fish. What do you make out ofthat?"
Rick could make nothing out of it. The _Albatross_ certainly wouldn'tbe calling at Creek House just to be sociable. "Were these calls madeat regular intervals?" he asked.
"Nope. One was two weeks ago, one was four nights ago, and the lasttime was night before last."
"Wasn't four nights ago the night you saw Tom Tyler at Creek House?"Scotty recalled.
"It was. That's one reason why I'm sure the _Albatross_ is tied upwith the wreck of the _Sea Belle_."
Rick searched for possible reasons why the trawler should tie up atCreek House and rejected all but one. He had the beginnings of anidea, but he needed to think about it a little more before he broachedit.
"Cap'n, you've been keeping an eye on the Kelsos for quite a while,sounds like," Rick said. "Do they ever have any visitors?"
"Haven't seen any."
"No trucks?" Rick asked.
"Haven't seen any."
They were approaching the big, shedlike fish pier. It was brilliantlylighted. At Cap'n Mike's direction, Rick pulled off the street andparked.
"What happens to the menhaden after they're unloaded?" Scotty wantedto know.
"Ever notice that one-story building next to the pier? Well, they gointo that on conveyer belts. Then the oil is cooked out of them andwhat's left is turned into feed or fertilizer. You'd know if you'dever been here while the plant was processing and the wind wasinshore. Dangdest smell you ever smelled. Like to ruin your nose."
Rick sniffed the fishy air. "I believe it," he said.
Cap'n Mike had been leading the way toward the big pier. Now he turnedonto the pier itself. Some trawlers already were tied up and werebeing unloaded by bucket cranes. The reek of fish was strong enough tomake Rick wish for a gas mask. He saw Scotty's nose wrinkle and knewhis pal wasn't enjoying it, either.
The captain stopped at the first trawler and hailed the bridge. A bigman in an officer's cap answered the hail.
"Let's go aboard," Cap'n Mike said. "This here is the _Jennie Lake_.We'll talk with Bill Lake for a minute."
Bill Lake was the skipper, and the man they had seen directing theunloading from the bridge. He greeted Cap'n Mike cordially. Thecaptain introduced the two boys and Lake shook hands without takinghis eyes from the unloading operation. Rick saw a scoop drop into thehold and come up with a slippery half-ton of menhaden. Then it spedalong a beam track into the big shed, paused over a wide conveyerbelt, lowered to within a few feet of the belt and dumped its load. Aclerk just inside the door marked the load on a board. Rick looked forthe winch operator and found him opposite the clerk.
The scoop came back rapidly, sped out the track extension above thehold, and paused. Bill Lake signaled and the big bucket droppedslowly. At a further signal, it opened its jaws and plunged into themass of fish, then slowly crunched closed and lifted again. There wascertainly no waste motion here, Rick thought.
Cap'n Mike asked, too casually, "What'd you think of Tom Tyler runningon Smugglers' Reef, Bill?"
Bill's cordiality seemed to freeze up. "None of my business," he saidshortly. "Can't pass judgment on a fellow skipper."
Cap'n Mike nodded. "Reckon that's right. Bill, how did you findvisibility last night?"
"None too good. There was a heavy current running, too."
"That's interesting. How'd you know that?"
"Patch of mist drifted in. Anyway, I lost the light for a bit. Whenthe mist cleared, the current had set us two points off course."Captain Lake's forehead wrinkled as he watched the scoop return foranother load. "Mighty funny, too. Usually there's no current to speakof off Brendan's Marsh. But I've said for quite a while that thecurrents hereabouts are changing and it looks like this proves it."
"Was Captain Tyler directly ahead of you, sir?" Rick asked.
"Not directly. He was three ahead, the way I figure. Brad Marbek wasright behind him, then came Jim Killian."
"How far apart were you?" Rick inquired.
"Quite a ways. Jim was pretty close in front of me, but Brad wasalmost out of my sight. Don't know how close he followed Tom."
Cap'n Mike spat over the side. "Sad business, anyway," he said. "Well,Bill, I'm taking these lads on a littl
e tour of the pier. Reckon we'llbe pushing along. Looks like you'll be busy unloading for an hour orso."
The boys shook hands with Captain Lake again, then followed theirguide to the pier once more. Cap'n Mike waited until a scoopful ofmenhaden had passed overhead then led the way down the pier.
"I wonder if Captain Killian got set off course by that current," Rickmused. "I'd like to talk to him."
Cap'n Mike shot a glance at him. "Might be interesting at that. Youthinking the same as I am?"
"We all are," Scotty replied. "That business about losing the lightand having the current set him off course sounded kind of strange."
"Is he a good guy?" Rick queried.
"Best there is. If he says it, it happened. But it's mighty funny justthe same. Reckon we'll have to find Jim Killian."
They passed three trawlers, all unloading, and Rick recognized namesthat Scotty had read aloud during their brief flight over the fleet.Many of the men they passed hailed Cap'n Mike. Evidently he was wellknown to the fisherman and pier workers.
Suddenly the old man stopped. "There's Brad Marbek's craft."
The next trawler in line was the _Albatross_.
Rick looked it over critically. It was indistinguishable from theothers. There was the same cabin, set well forward, the same largeworking space aft, the same net booms. It was no dirtier nor cleanerthan the others. Evidently it was filled with fish, because only thetop Plimsoll number was showing. But the skipper was far from average.Brad Marbek, as Rick saw him on the deck overhead, was a bull of aman. He was about six feet tall, but his width made him look shorter.His shoulder span would have done credit to a Percheron horse, andfrom his shoulders his torso dropped in almost a straight line. Hiswaist lacked only an inch or two of being as wide as his shoulders.His legs were short and thick and planted wide on the deck. His headwas massive and set squarely on his shoulders with hardly any neck. Hewas hatless and his coarse black hair, cropped short, stood straightup like a vegetable brush. His face was weathered to a dark mahoganycolor.
"Not very pretty, is he?" Scotty whispered.
That, Rick thought, was a masterpiece of understatement. He started totell Scotty that compared with Brad Marbek a Hereford bull wasdownright winsome, but at that moment Cap'n Mike hailed the_Albatross_.
"Howdy, Brad. How's fish?"
The skipper's reply was cordial enough. "Howdy, Cap'n Mike. Tookanother good haul today. Just startin' to unload." Marbek's black eyessurveyed the two boys briefly, then evidently dismissed them as of noimportance. "Come on aboard."
"Thanks. We will." Cap'n Mike motioned to the two boys and led the wayup the gangplank just as a scoop full of menhaden rose from the holdand passed overhead.
On deck, the captain introduced the boys to Marbek. Rick found hishand imprisoned in a horny mass that appeared to be controlled bysteel cables instead of tendons. He tried not to wince.
"Best season I've seen in years," Marbek told Cap'n Mike. His voicewas ridiculously high and soft, out of keeping with his physique.
"That's what everyone's saying," Cap'n Mike acknowledged. "Why, onlytwo days ago, I heard ..."
Scotty nudged Rick with a sharp elbow. He was looking at the pier.Rick turned and followed his pal's glance, then as he saw what Scottywas looking at, he inhaled sharply. Carrots Kelso was leaning againsta pillar, watching them.
"Wonder what's on his mind?" Rick asked.
Brad Marbek saw the direction of their glance. "You kids know Jimmy?He's my nephew."
The pause before Cap'n Mike spoke was proof of his surprise. "Youdon't say!" He changed the subject abruptly. "Say, Brad, I've beenmeaning to ask you. Did you notice any peculiar current offshore lastnight?"
"Current? Can't say I did. Why?"
"Bill Lake claims a strong current set him off course just as hepicked up Smugglers' Light, about the time Tom Tyler ran aground."
Rick thought that Brad Marbek hesitated slightly and searched for theright answer.
"Now that you mention it, I did notice a little shift." A scoopwhirred out of the hold, crossed the pier, dumped its load and startedthe return. "Let me know if you find out any more about it," Marbeksaid. "Right now I guess I better attend to my unloadin'."
"Sure, Brad," Cap'n Mike said. "We'll be getting on. By the way,happen to know where Jim Killian is tied up?"
"I think he's on the other side of the pier. Cross over and duck underthe belts. He should be right abeam of us."
"Thanks. Let's go, boys."
Cap'n Mike led the way down the gangplank with Rick and Scottyfollowing. Rick felt Brad Marbek's eyes on them. He had sensedtension under the fisherman's surface cordiality, and he wasinterested in the quick way Marbek had remembered the strange currentwhen Cap'n Mike quoted Bill Lake.
At the foot of the gangplank, Cap'n Mike paused. "Let's find Jim. I'mgetting real curious about that current Bill mentioned. What say?"
"We're right with you," Scotty replied.
Rick watched the big scoop vanish into the _Albatross'_ hold, thenlooked for Carrots Kelso. He was no longer in sight. "Wonder whereCarrots went to?" he said to Scotty.
"Probably running to tell his father we're prowling around the pier."
Cap'n Mike led the way into the pier shed. He turned to look over hisshoulder at the boys. "What'd you think of Marbek claiming young Kelsoas a nephew?"
"Don't you think he really is?" Rick asked. He had to raise his voiceabove the noise of the scoop as it lifted from the trawler's hold.
"Surprise to me. I've known Marbek fifteen years and never heard ofany family. Why--"
"Look out!"
On the heels of Scotty's cry, Rick caught a glimpse of his pal hurlingCap'n Mike headlong. He jumped forward, glancing up, just as the greatfish scoop opened over his head. He put all of his energy in a forwardleap to safety, but too late!
Cascading thousands of menhaden crushed him violently to the floor.