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MAP OF SMUGGLERS' REEF AND VICINITY]
A RICK BRANT SCIENCE-ADVENTURE STORY
SMUGGLERS'
REEF
BY JOHN BLAINE
GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK, N. Y.
COPYRIGHT, 1950, BY
GROSSET & DUNLAP, INC.
* * * * *
Contents
CHAPTER PAGE
I NIGHT ASSIGNMENT 1
II CAP'N MIKE 11
III THE REDHEADED KELSOS 22
IV A WARNING 33
V THE MYSTERIOUS PHONE CALL 43
VI THE _Albatross_ 53
VII SEARCH FOR A CLUE 63
VIII THE OLD TOWER 70
IX NIGHT WATCH 82
X CAPTURED 93
XI THE HEARING 100
XII THE MISSING FISHERMAN 107
XIII THE TRACKER 118
XIV CAPTAIN KILLIAN 125
XV PLIMSOLL MARKS 137
XVI NIGHT FLIGHT 151
XVII ENTER THE POLICE 162
XVIII BRENDAN'S MARSH 172
XIX THE FIGHT AT CREEK HOUSE 188
XX READ ALL ABOUT IT! 201
* * * * *
SMUGGLERS' REEF
CHAPTER I
Night Assignment
"Adventure," Rick Brant said, "is kind of hard to define, because whatmay be adventure to one person may be commonplace to another." He tooka bite of cake and stretched his long legs comfortably. "Now, you takeflying with Scotty. That's the most adventurous thing I do."
Mr. and Mrs. Brant and Jerry Webster looked at Don Scott, the objectof Rick's jibe, and waited for his reply. Verbal warfare between thetwo boys was a usual feature of the evening discussions on the bigfront porch of the Brant home on Spindrift Island.
Scotty, a husky, dark-haired boy, grinned lazily. "You've proved yourown point," he returned. "Flying with me is adventure to you but safetravel to anyone else. I'd say the most adventurous thing you do isdrive a car."
Mrs. Brant, an attractive, motherly woman, poured another cup ofcoffee for Jerry Webster. The young reporter had started thediscussion by stating wistfully that he wished he could share in someof the Brant adventures. "Why do you call Rick's drivingadventurous?" she asked.
"The dictionary says so," Scotty replied. "One definition of adventureis 'a remarkable experience.'"
Hartson Brant, Rick's scientist father, grinned companionably at hisson. "I agree with Scotty. Not only is Rick's driving a remarkableexperience, but it fits the rest of the definition: 'The encounteringof risks; hazardous enterprise.'"
Jerry Webster rose to Rick's defense. "Oh, I don't know. Rick alwaysgets there."
"Sure he does," Scotty agreed. "Of course his passengers always havenervous breakdowns, but he gets there."
Rick just grinned. He felt wonderful tonight. When you came right downto it, there was nothing that matched being at home with the family inthe big house on Spindrift Island. The famous island off the NewJersey coast was home for the scientific foundation that his fatherheaded, and for the scientist members. It was home for Scotty, too,and had been since the day he had rescued Rick from danger, as told in_The Rocket's Shadow_. As junior members of the foundation, Rick andScotty had been included in a number of experiments and expeditions.Rick wouldn't have missed a one of them, and if opportunity offered hewould go again with just as much eagerness. But it was nice to returnto familiar surroundings between trips. More than once, during lonelynights in far places, his thoughts had turned to evenings just likethis one with the family and perhaps a close friend like Jerrygathered on the porch after dinner.
Rick, Scotty, and Barbara Brant had only recently returned from theSouth Pacific where they had vacationed aboard the trawler _Tarpon_and had solved the mystery of _The Phantom Shark_. Barby had gone offto summer boarding school in Connecticut a few days later. Chahda, theHindu boy who had been with the Brants since the Tibetan radar relayexpedition described in _The Lost City_, had said good-bye to thegroup at New Caledonia and had returned to India. The scientists,Zircon, Weiss, and Gordon, were away doing research.
Suddenly Rick chuckled. "Speaking of adventure, I'll bet the biggestadventure Barby had on our whole trip to the Pacific was eating_rosette saute_ at the governor's in Noumea."
"What's that?" Jerry asked.
"Bat," Scotty replied. "A very large kind of fruit bat. Barby thoughtit was wonderful until she found out what it was."
"I should think so!" Mrs. Brant exclaimed.
"It tasted good," Rick said. "Something like chicken livers." Hegrinned. "Anyway, I sympathized with Barby. I felt kind of funnymyself when I found out what it was."
Hartson Brant, an older edition of his athletic son, looked at the boyreflectively. He knocked ashes from his pipe. "Seems to me you've beenpretty quiet since you got back, Rick. Lost your taste for excitement?Or are you working on something?"
"Working," Rick said. "We scientists must never rest. We must laboralways to push back the frontiers of ignorance." He put a hand on hisheart and bowed with proper dramatic modesty. "I am working on aninvention that will startle the civilized world."
"We will now bow our heads in reverent silence while the master tellsall," Scotty intoned.
"I know," Jerry guessed. "You're working on a radar-controlled lawnmower so you can cut the grass while you sit on the porch."
"That's too trivial for a junior genius like Rick," Scotty objected."He's probably working on a self-energizing hot dog that lathersitself with mustard, climbs into a bun, and then holds a napkin underyour chin while you eat it."
"Not a bad idea," Rick said soberly. "But that isn't it."
"Of course not," Hartson Brant put in. "You see, I happen to know whatit is, due to a little invention of my own--an electronic mindreader."
Scotty gulped. "You didn't tell Mom what happened to those two piecesof butterscotch pie, did you? I wanted her to blame it on Rick."
Rick asked unbelievingly, "An electronic mind reader? All right, Dad,what am I working on?"
"A device to penetrate the darkness."
Rick stared. His father had scored a hit. He demanded, "How did youknow?"
"My new invention," Hartson Brant said seriously. "Oh, and one otherclue. Yesterday morning the mail brought me a bill for a thousand feetof 16-millimeter infrared motion-picture film."
So that was it. Rick grinned. "I hope your new invention told you Iasked the film company to send the bill to me and not to you."
"It did. The bill actually was addressed to the Spindrift Foundation,attention Mr. Brant. Since I didn't know which Mr.
Brant was meant, Iopened it. Don't worry, Rick. I'll let you pay it."
"Thanks, Dad," Rick said. "But don't make any sacrifices. You can payit if you want to."
"Don't want to," Hartson Brant replied. "I haven't the slightest usefor motion-picture film."
"Because Rick has the only motion-picture camera on the island,"Scotty finished. He frowned at his friend. "Keeping secrets, huh?"
"I'm not sure it will work," Rick explained. He hated to brag about anidea and then have it turn out to be a dud. Consequently, he seldommentioned that he was working on anything until he knew it would besuccessful.
"What does the film have to do with penetrating the darkness?" JerryWebster inquired.
Rick caught the look of interest on his father's face. "Ask Dad," hesaid. "The electronic mind reader probably has told him all about it."
"Of course." The scientist chuckled. "Rick is planning to take moviesat night without lights."
Jerry looked skeptical. "How?"
Rick stood up. "Long as we've started talking about it, I may as wellshow you."
The others rose, too. As they did so, a shaggy little dog crawled fromunder Rick's chair where he had been napping.
"Dismal and I will put the cake away," Mrs. Brant said.
At the sound of his name the pup rolled over on his back and playeddead, his only trick. Rick bent and scratched his ribs in the way thepup liked best. "Go with Mom," he commanded. "Come on, the rest ofyou. Maybe I can get some free advice from the director of theSpindrift Foundation."
Hartson Brant smiled. "If you're looking for a technical consultant,Rick, my price is very reasonable."
"It would have to be," Rick admitted ruefully. "I've spent my entirefortune on this thing."
"The whole dollar," Scotty added.
The boys' rooms were on the second floor in the north wing of the bighouse. But where Scotty's was usually neat as a barracks squad room,the result of his service in the Marines, Rick's was usually a clutterof apparatus. Living on Spindrift Island with the example of hisfather and the other scientists to follow, it was natural that heshould be interested in science. He was more fortunate than most boyswith such an interest, because he was permitted to use the laboratoryapparatus freely and his part-time work as a junior technician gavehim spending money with which to buy equipment. Another source ofrevenue was his little two-seater plane. He was the island's fastferry service to the mainland.
His room was neater than usual at the moment because he had notbothered to connect most of his apparatus after returning from theSouth Pacific. The induction heater that he used for midnight snackswas in a closet. His automatic window opener was not in use, nor washis amateur radio transmitter.
He opened a workbench built into one wall and brought out amotion-picture camera. It was a popular make with a type of lens mountthat permitted fast switching of lenses. It used one-hundred-footrolls of 16-millimeter film. He put the camera on the table, then froma cupboard he brought out what appeared to be a searchlight mounted ontop of a small telescope.
"That's a sniperscope!" Scotty exclaimed.
Rick nodded.
"No reason why it shouldn't work very well, Rick," Hartson Brant said.
Jerry Webster sighed. "Excuse my ignorance. What's a sniperscope?"
"They were used during the last war," Scotty explained. He picked upthe unit and pointed to the light, which was about the size and shapeof a bicycle head lamp. "This searchlight throws a beam of blacklight. Rick would call it infrared. Anyway, it's invisible. Thetelescope is actually a special telescopic rifle sight which will pickup infrared. You can use the thing in total darkness. Mount it on arifle and then go looking for the enemy. Since he can't see theinfrared, he thinks he's safe. But you can see him through the 'scopejust as though he had a beam of white light on him."
"I see," Jerry said. "Where are the batteries?"
Rick brought out a canvas-covered case that looked like a knapsack. Ithad a crank on one side and a pair of electrical connections. "It'snot a battery," he explained. "It's a small, spring-driven dynamo."
Jerry nodded. "I get it now. You rig this thing on the camera, whichis loaded with infrared film. The film registers whatever the infraredsearchlight illuminates. Right?"
"That's the idea," Hartson Brant agreed. "But it isn't as simple asthat, is it, Rick?"
"Far from it. I have to determine the effective range, then I have torun a couple of tests to find out what exposure I have to use, andthen I have to find the field of vision of the telescope as comparedwith the field of the lens. A lot depends on the speed of the filmemulsion. That will limit the range. The searchlight is effective ateight hundred yards, but I'll be lucky if I can get a picture at aquarter of that."
"Where did you get the sniperscope?" Scotty wanted to know.
"By mail. I read an ad in a magazine that advertised a lot of surpluswar equipment, including this."
"You might have said something about it," Scotty reproached.
Rick grinned. "You were too busy working on the motorboats. I knew youcouldn't have two things on your mind at once."
Since the boys returned from vacation, Scotty had been overhauling theengines on the two motorboats which were used, along with Rick'splane, for communication with Whiteside, the nearest town on themainland.
"I have a book downstairs that you'll find useful, Rick," HartsonBrant said. "It gives the comparative data on lenses. It may save yousome figuring."
"Thanks, Dad," Rick replied. "I may have to ask your help in workingout the mathematics, too. Anyway...." He stopped as the phone rang.
In a moment Mrs. Brant called. "Jerry, it's your paper."
"Something must have popped!" Jerry ran for the door.
Rick hurried after him, Scotty and the scientist following. TheWhiteside _Morning Record_, for which Jerry worked, must have hadsomething important come up to phone Jerry on his night off.
In the library, Jerry picked up the phone. "Webster. Oh, hello, Duke.Where? Well, why can't one of the other guys cover it? Okay, I'll beon my way in a minute. How about a photographer? Hold the phone. I'llask him." He turned to Rick. "Duke wants to know if you can take yourcamera and cover a story with me. A trawler went ashore down atSeaford."
Rick nodded quick assent. The little daily paper had only onephotographer, who evidently wasn't available. It wouldn't be the firsttime he had taken pictures for Duke Barrows, the paper's editor.
"He'll do it. We're on our way." Jerry hung up. "Have to work fast,"he said. "We start printing the paper at midnight."
"It's nine now," Scotty said.
Rick ran upstairs and opened the case containing his speed graphic,checking to be sure he had film packs and bulbs, then he snapped thecase shut and hurried downstairs with it. Jerry and Scotty werewaiting at the door.
"Don't stay out too late," Mrs. Brant admonished.
Dismal whined to be taken along.
"Sorry, boy." Rick patted the pup. "We'll be home early, Mom. Want tocome along, Dad?"
"Not tonight, thanks," the scientist replied. "I'll take advantage ofthe quiet to catch up on my reading."
In a moment the three boys were hurrying toward the hook-shaped covein which the motorboats were tied up. Although Spindrift Island wasconnected to the mainland at low tide by a rocky tidal flat, there wasno way for a car to cross. The cove was reached by a flight of stairsleading down from the north side of the island. Elsewhere, the islanddropped away in cliffs of varying heights and steepness to theAtlantic.
They ran down the stairs and got into the fastest of the two boats, aslim speedboat built for eight passengers. Rick handed Scotty hiscamera case and slid in behind the wheel. While Jerry cast off, hestarted the engine and warmed it for a moment. Then as Jerry pushedthe craft away from the pier, he backed out expertly, spun the boataround, and roared off in the direction of the Whiteside landing.
"Let's have the story," Scotty shouted above the engine's roar.
"A fishing trawler from Seaford ran ag
round," Jerry shouted in reply."Duke figures it's an unusual story because those skippers have beengoing out of Seaford for a hundred years without an accident. There'sno reason why one of them should run onto well-charted ground in clearweather."
Scotty squinted at the sky. "It's not exactly clear weather. There's amoon just coming up, but it's kind of hazy out."
"Yes, but you couldn't call it bad weather, either," Jerry pointedout. "Not from a seaman's viewpoint, anyway."
"Where did this trawler run aground?" Rick asked.
"Arm of land that extends out into the sea above Seaford," Jerryreplied. "It's called Smugglers' Reef."