onvinced him it would be better for him to wait and impress on the
others the need for speed. He dropped them at the speedboat with a
plea to be careful, then headed back to the office.

Scotty got behind the wheel while Rick cast off and they roared out to
sea with the throttle wide open. The speedboat climbed to the step and
planed along like a racer, leaving a foaming wake. Then, as they
passed Spindrift Island and met rougher water, it began to bounce
from one wave crest to the next. Spray swirled over the windshield and
into the boat. Scotty started the wipers. Rick crouched down under the
dashboard and rechecked his camera, trying out the infrared dynamo and
the camera motor. Just to be on the safe side, he had brought the
camera case, which contained the extra film and a tripod. Now he got
the tripod ready but waited to see what would happen before he placed
the camera on it.

He sat back in the seat, satisfied that everything was in readiness,
and looked around him. Suddenly he stiffened. There were ship running
lights on the horizon. The trawler fleet was returning to Seaford, and
Brad Marbek would be among them! He leaned over and switched out their
own running lights.

Scotty glanced around, saw the masthead lights, and nodded his
understanding.

"Better make a plan," he suggested. "What do we do when we get there?"

"Stick our heads into the lion's mouth," Rick replied unhappily. "I
hate to try getting into the Creek House grounds again after last
time!"

"Do we have to? How about watching from the boat?"

"We couldn't get near enough without being seen. Wait! We could at
that!" Rick struggled to remember details of the photo they had taken
showing the marsh opposite Creek House. "We could go into the marsh.
Remember that inlet nearest the creek? That branched off in the right
direction. There are emergency oars in this and we could use them as
poles and shove our way in. We might get close enough."

"And if we don't, we can wade the rest of the way." Scotty leaned over
and wiped mist from the windshield. "Good idea." He laughed, without
mirth. "Brad and the two redheads would have a fine time chasing us
through the swamp. Here's one pigeon they'd never catch."

"Make it two pigeons," Rick corrected.

They were making good time, even though the slapping of the speedboat
over the rough water was giving them a bad jouncing. They roared past
the last group of summer cottages before Brendan's Marsh,