Rick and Scotty watched helplessly as Jerry was carried into the hotel, then they looked at each other wordlessly. In a moment the seamen who had carried him returned, but Brad and Red didn’t.

The one who had first reported to Brad, probably the mate or bosun, stood on the dock and called to the men in the boat. The boys could hear him clearly. “Let’s get busy. We’ve got to load this stuff fast.”

One of the men in the boat asked, “What they going to do with the kid?”

“Find out what he knows, then knock him on the head and shove him under the fish until we’re out where we can dump him.”

Rick and Scotty grabbed for each other at the same time. They knew without speaking what they had to do. Rick snatched up the camera, hauling it out of the muck recklessly. He pulled the power plug and Scotty reeled it in. They plowed through the swamp as fast as they could without making too much of a disturbance. Scotty led the way, cutting straight through the marsh to the boat, his highly developed direction sense showing him the way.

It seemed forever to Rick, but it was actually only a few minutes before they were climbing into the boat. “What do we do?” he asked desperately as he stowed the camera. “If we start the boat, they’ll hear it, and it would take too long to pole out.”

“Swim,” Scotty said tersely. “It’s faster. Get out of your clothes, but tie the laces of your shoes together and hang the shoes around your neck. We’ll need ’em.”

Quickly they stripped to their shorts, then draped shoes around their necks and slipped into the mud again. The water deepened rapidly and they began to swim with a noiseless side stroke. Rick followed Scotty, knowing that his friend was at his best in a situation like this.

They reached the edge of the marsh and angled along its edge, swimming strongly. Rick was in an agony of fear for Jerry. How had he gotten caught? And where? Scotty slowed, then stopped. The sudden feel of sluggish current warned Rick they were at the creek mouth.

“Watch the splashes,” Scotty whispered. “We’ll cross to the outside of the fence.”

For the next few moments they would be vulnerable if Carrots Kelso happened to walk to the bank and look across. It had to be chanced. Scotty started out and Rick drew abreast of him. They swam cautiously, making no noise or splash, reached the opposite bank safely and crawled up the beach until they were sure the fence hid them from any watchers at Creek House.

“Got to draw Carrots to the back side of the hotel,” Scotty whispered. “Then we can get in through the creek side of the fence. But how?”

Rick thought quickly. If they could make some sort of noise on the other side ... but it would take too long to go over there and then come back again and it wouldn’t be safe to enter near where they made the noise, anyway. He started to put on his shoes, and as his fingers touched the strings, an idea blossomed. “Hunt for a piece of rope or wire,” he said swiftly, and began running down the reef, eyes searching the dark ground. Scotty went to the other side and began to search, too. Rick knew they would find what he wanted on the wreck of the trawler but hoped he wouldn’t have to go that far. He was in luck. He stumbled over a loop of rusty wire, grabbed it, and heaved. It came free. Swiftly his fingers explored it. About eight feet. That was good. Probably it had been buried when the part of the reef nearest the hotel had been filled in with trash to make a parking area. He had noticed odds and ends of junk around. He ran over to Scotty and told him what else was needed and they both hunted until they found a jagged piece of metal that would suit. It weighed about two pounds, and it had holes along one edge, probably originally drilled for rivets. They unkinked the wire carefully, then Rick passed one end through a hole in the steel and made it fast while Scotty bent a loop in the other end and wound the wire around itself to make a handhold.

“You do it,” Rick whispered.

Scotty put a hand through the loop he had made and gripped it tight, then he went as close to the hotel fence as he could without raising the trajectory too high and began to whirl the contraption around his head. Faster and faster he whirled it until it began to whine, then with all the momentum of his body he released it.

The missile soared away in a long, low arc, past the hotel and on. The boys waited, not breathing, and heard it crunch through the reeds on the far side of the hotel. They ran to the creek end of the fence and looked around. The men at the pier were looking toward the marsh behind the garage. Red Kelso was walking that way and Carrots was running, rifle lifted.

Scotty and Rick rounded the corner and ran silently to the front of the hotel. Now to find Jerry! Rick stepped to the front porch and tried the door. It was unlocked. Taking his nerve in both hands, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

It was quiet in the hotel. He knew the layout; they had explored every inch of it. He led the way toward the kitchen, then flattened against the wall of the hallway as he saw the light streaming through. He felt Scotty brush against him. Rick leaned forward, keeping his face in the shadow, just as Brad Marbek, his curiosity getting the better of him, walked to the side door and stepped out.

Rick took a long step into the kitchen. No one in it. Then he saw a lighted doorway across the room. It was a good bet. With his eyes on the door through which Brad had gone, he trotted swiftly across the floor. Scotty was right behind him.

Rick smothered an exclamation as he saw Jerry. The reporter was seated in a chair, tied fast to it. The gag, a bundle of rags, had been stuffed into his mouth. There was a bad bruise over his left eye and another on his left temple. Rick was at his side in three long steps. He jerked the gag from Jerry’s mouth, cautioned him to silence, and started to untie him. Scotty went to the window, which fortunately faced the Seaford side of the house, and leaned out.

Rick heard Brad call, “Find anyone?” Then a faint answering call. “No one here.”

“Hurry,” Scotty whispered. He went to the door and stood to one side of it, looking into the kitchen.

Rick tugged at a recalcitrant knot, then got it loose. Jerry stood up, hands still tied behind him. Rick fought with the knot and wished for a knife.

There were footsteps in the kitchen. Rick’s fingers got a hold and he heaved. The footsteps came closer. Scotty crouched. Brad Marbek entered the room and stepped into a terrific roundhouse swing with all of Scotty’s frantic weight behind it. Brad stumbled backward and fell, and he roared.

“They’re in the house! Cover the doors!”

He got to his feet and his powerful legs drove him forward. Scotty stepped directly into his way.

The rope loosened in Rick’s hand. He unwound Jerry, working as fast as he could. He turned just in time to see Brad’s arms reach for Scotty. The fisherman’s face was distorted in a snarl and blood trickled from his cut lip.

Scotty back-pedaled swiftly. He took Brad’s out-stretched hands, then fell backward, feet lifting, catching Brad in the stomach. Scotty heaved. The heave and the smuggler’s momentum shot him headlong. He smashed into the wall.

Scotty leaped to his feet. “Run!” he yelled.

Rick propelled Jerry into the kitchen, and as they started across the room he saw Red Kelso at the door. “The front,” he called. “Hurry, Jerry.”

The reporter was fast getting the use of his limbs back. Scotty led the way to the front hall and Jerry stumbled after him. As Rick passed through the doorway from the kitchen into the wide hallway he spotted a cabinet. He grabbed it and tugged. It came away from the wall and he stepped from under it, letting it crash at an angle across the passageway. That would hold Red for a few seconds. They sprinted for the open front door and met Carrots head on just inside the entrance.

Scotty dove at him. His shoulder caught the redhead in the chest and slammed him backward. Carrots’ arms flew up and the rifle he was carrying sailed from his grasp and slid across the porch to the sidewalk. The boys started to pile out over him, then they stopped short. Two of the crew were pounding up the sidewalk, leaping to the steps, and they carried clubs!

They were trapped! “Up the stairs,” Rick said hoarsely.

Scotty bent over the fallen Carrots and jerked him to his feet.
“You’re coming with us,” he grated.

Rick was already halfway to the stairs. Red Kelso was climbing over the blockade in the hallway, Brad Marbek behind him. Rick stopped. “Hurry, Scotty!”

“Hostage,” Scotty grunted. He took Carrots’ arm in a Japanese wristlock and rushed him across the room. Carrots struggled, then let out a yelp. It was either go peacefully or break his own arm. “Run,” Scotty commanded, and Carrots ran, up the stairs. Jerry followed and Rick brought up the rear. Their pursuers were gaining!

Rick’s mind raced as he climbed two stairs at a time, reconstructing the plan of the house. He rejected the idea of barricading themselves in a room on the second or third floor; the halls would give their enemies too much room for a battering rush against the door. “The attic,” he called ahead to Scotty, “and step on it! They’re gaining!”

They crossed the second-floor landing and went up the stairs to the third. At the top of the third landing was a rusty bucket, full of sand. Rick knew, because he had been forced to dig through the sand. It was evidently a relic of Coast Guard occupancy, placed there to extinguish incendiaries. He pressed hard against Jerry’s heels, hearing the thud of footsteps on the stairs behind him and the cries of “Get ’em” from Red Kelso.

Scotty, Carrots, and Jerry sprinted for the attic stairs. Rick paused long enough to scoop up the bucket of sand. He hurled it after him, straight into the faces of the smugglers and found time for a grin at their yells and curses.

The attic stairs led straight up, with no landing at the top. The door was ajar. Rick’s trick had gained a little time. They went through it with seconds to spare, and Rick slammed it shut. “Find a light,” he gasped. “There’s one up here.” He remembered a tiny bulb, high in the ceiling.

“Key,” Scotty snapped. “In the door. Outside. It was there last time.”

Rick opened the door and had a quick glimpse of dark figures rushing up the stairs. He fumbled for the key, jerked it loose, and slammed the door. With his shoulder against it he inserted the key on their side and twisted it just as bodies thumped against the other side.

Jerry found the light switch and turned it on. Carrots, lips drawn tight, was bent over in the judo hold Scotty had on him. Rick found a few old pieces of overstuffed furniture, too disreputable to have been moved or sold, and he and Jerry pushed them against the door.

“If we can hold out,” Jerry said between swollen lips, “Captain Douglas will get here.”

“If!” Rick echoed.

Red Kelso called through the door. “Okay, you kids. Open up and we’ll make things easy on you. But if we have to break the door down, it’ll be rugged.”

The boys looked at each other. Carrots grinned. Rick didn’t like the grin. He yelled back, “Try to come through that door and we throw your son out the window!”

Carrots turned white.

“Stop talking like a fool and open up,” Kelso demanded.

“We warned you,” Rick yelled.

There was a solid thump as shoulders hit the door. Rick cast a desperate look at Scotty. The door wouldn’t hold long. Scotty winked at Rick and jerked his chin at Carrots’ back.

“Out the window with him,” Rick growled. He lunged forward and took the boy’s legs. Jerry, who had caught the wink too, took his shoulders while Scotty kept a wristlock clamped tight. They rushed Carrots to the window and Rick let go long enough to throw up the sash. Then they lifted Carrots to the sill.

“Pop!” he screamed. “They’re throwing me out!”

The thumping at the door ceased. The elder Kelso called, “Keep your head, Jimmy. They don’t dare. They know we’re comin’ in, anyway, and if they throw you out they haven’t got a chance.”

Kelso had spoken the exact truth, and the boys knew it. They let Carrots slump to the floor. “Get close,” Scotty said. He spoke into Carrots’ ear. “One peep out of you and I’ll break your arm. Listen. We’ve got to have help and quick. Who’s the fastest runner?”

“Jerry,” Rick said promptly. The reporter had been a sprinting champion in school. “Are you okay now?”

“Fine. What’s your plan?”

A door panel splintered as shoulders crashed against it. Good thing there was little space to stand out there. The smugglers couldn’t get much leverage. Scotty talked fast. “We’ll unblock the door and open it suddenly, then, Rick, you dive into the mob. They’ll be off balance because the stairs are steep. Jerry, you’ll have to leap for it, over their heads, and try to get away.” He was behind Carrots and his wink was concealed. “Carrots will help us.”

“I won’t,” Carrots stated.

“You will,” Scotty corrected, “and you’ll say ’Pop, hold it a minute. They want to talk it over.’ Just like that.” He twisted his hand slightly and Carrots yelped.

Scotty marched him to the door. Rick and Jerry slid the furniture away. The door was close to giving in now, the hinges starting to pull loose. Rick put one hand on the key and the other on the knob, hoping he had interpreted Scotty’s wink correctly. Jerry crouched to one side of the door. Scotty held Carrots directly in front of it and commanded: “Speak your piece.”

Carrots did, willingly, under the pressure of Scotty’s hand.

The thumping stopped.

“What do they want to talk over?” Kelso demanded.

Scotty nodded. Rick spun the key and jerked the door open. Carrots, all of Scotty’s driving weight behind him, catapulted headlong and smashed into the men on the stairs like a battering ram. They tumbled down under the impact like a row of dominoes, and Jerry went out the door as though shot from a crossbow. His flying feet struck backs, legs, and spurned faces. He gained the landing in a mad dive, scrambled to his feet, and was gone.

The smugglers clambered to their feet, or tried to. “After him,”
Marbek bellowed.

Red Kelso had fallen backward, and his legs were almost at the door. Scotty and Rick grabbed simultaneously and heaved, sending the upper men sprawling again. Then the boys withdrew and slammed and locked the door. Jerry had had the advantage of complete surprise, and his momentum had gotten him past the men on the lower stairs. Rick and Scotty couldn’t have made it after the initial shock.

They pushed the furniture against the door again and drew back. Unless help was near, they were done for. There was nothing more they could do except wait, and fight once the door gave. Rick wrenched the leg from an ancient and broken chair and silently handed it to Scotty. Then he found one for himself.

The banging had renewed almost instantly. Scotty went to the window and looked out. Rick joined him just in time to see Jerry round the corner of the fence.

“He made it,” Rick said with satisfaction. Two of the seamen crossed below, but Rick knew they would never catch his friend. He turned to face the door.

“Closer,” Scotty said.

They moved closer and took places, one on each side of the door, and waited.

Smash. And again, and again. Wood dust flew as hinge screws gave with a loud screech. The door was just hanging now. One more smash! It flew inward and Red and Brad charged, two seamen close behind them.

Rick met Brad Marbek with a lightning thrust of his chair leg, and the smuggler doubled up. But his great body could absorb more punishment than Rick could give. He drove forward, brushed aside a swing of the chair leg, and his arms locked around the boy. Rick groaned as the steely hug drove the air from him; he felt a hand loosen, and kicked frantically for Brad’s legs, then Brad’s free hand caught him behind the ear, stunning him. Rick slumped to the floor fighting for breath and consciousness. Across the room, the seamen had Scotty, grabbing for his flailing arms while Red Kelso stood back and shot punches at him. Then the seamen got a firm grip and held him fast. Kelso’s open hand slapped, back and forth, until Scotty’s head sagged.

Carrots crawled into the room, his face contorted, one hand on his ribs. He got to his feet and walked unsteadily over to Scotty. He swung a roundhouse right. Scotty’s head moved an inch. Carrots missed, and the force of his swing spun him around and he almost fell.

Rick laughed gaspingly.

Carrots’ face turned scarlet. He walked over to where Rick was struggling for wind and drew his foot back. “I’m goin’ to kick your teeth right down your throat,” he grated.

Cap’n Mike’s voice came from the doorway. “I’d call that mighty impolite!”

Rick turned on his side and stared unbelievingly. The old sea captain stood rock steady in the door, and at his shoulder was Carrots’ rifle.

He spoke calmly. “Only got one shot in here. You could get me before I had time to pump it up again. Found it on the porch and took me a few minutes to figure it out. Almost put a slug through my foot doing it. But I got it in hand now. Got one shot. Who wants it?”

Marbek took a half step forward and the muzzle swung to cover him. Cap’n Mike’s finger tightened. “You, Brad?”

Marbek stepped back.

“Come toward me, both of you,” Cap’n Mike said. “Rick and Scotty.”

Rick crawled forward, under the line of fire. Scotty, suddenly released, dropped to the floor and did the same.

The smugglers stayed where they were, frozen by the calm threat of the old man’s voice. “Been eel fishing,” he said. “Saw that young reporter skate around the corner with two men after him. Then I noticed Scotty and Rick looking out, and I thought I better take a hand. Didn’t know just what to do until I spotted this BB gun in front of the porch.”

His voice hardened as Red Kelso shifted position. “But now I know what to do.”

Far down Million Dollar Row, Jerry met the State Police cars. And as Rick grinned up at the Captain, he heard the welcome sound of sirens.