Choptank
River, Steve gave them instructions. "When we get opposite the creek
mouth, the engine is going to stutter and kick up a lot of smoke. The
boat will drift into the smoke and out again. You'll have a few seconds
to go over. I'll pretend to work on the motor, and finally get it
started, but running rough. Then I'll take off and pretend I'm heading
home. Okay?"

"How are you going to make smoke?" Rick asked.

Steve reached into his breast pocket and produced a small bottle. "These
are chemicals that smoke when they touch water. Got your plans all
made?"

Rick looked at Scotty. "We'll have to stick our heads up once in a
while. I'll lead, since I know the creek as far as the cove. When I
think I'm lost, I'll head for the north bank, making a sharp turn. That
will be your signal to stay put, while I look. What I'd like to do is
bring us out in back of the duck blind. We can pick our spots then and
cross the creek when we're ready."

"Got it," Scotty agreed.

Steve reached down a hand and squeezed their hands in turn. "Good luck,
kids. And no unnecessary chances. If shooting starts, get underwater
again. We'll have guns, but you'll have only single-shot spear guns."

"Good luck," the boys said in unison. They put on the masks and turned
the valves that started the oxygen cycles. Rick grinned at Scotty
through the glass, and knew that his grin was strained. Scotty grinned
back and held up his hand with thumb and forefinger making the signal
for "Okay."

"Be ready," Steve said.

Rick checked himself once again to be sure all was in order. Weight
belt, knife, compass, spear gun with safety cap on, mask fitting
tightly, and the pack in place. He got ready to jump on Steve's command.

The outboard slowed, raced, slowed, raced, back-fired, slowed. Steve's
hand went over and trailed chemical in the water. The boat turned, and
Rick saw the smoke cloud rising. The boat went into it, and the motor
cut out.

"Go," Steve said.

Rick stood upright and went over the gunwale in a dive, knifing toward
the bottom. He felt the pressure wave as Scotty followed and reached a
hand upward to meet his pal. His hand touched Scotty's arm, found the
hand, and gave it a squeeze. Then, with a glance at his compass to
orient him, Rick started the long swim.

It was odd to be wearing the oxygen lung. The sound of bubbles from the
customary compressed-air Scubas was missing, and the silence was
strange. Then Steve started the mot