Harold L. Goodwin

“ Rick's interest in the life of the great bay was to be expected. As son of the director of the world-famous Spindrift Scientific Foundation, located on Spindrift Island off the coast of New Jersey, he had been brought up among scientists. The habit of observation had developed along with his natural—and insatiable—curiosity.
The tall, slim, brown-haired, brown-eyed boy was completely happy. He enjoyed casual living, especially on the water, and life on the Spindrift couldn't have been more casual. He was dressed in a tattered pair of shorts and a wristwatch. ”

“ Rick managed a grin. "It's okay," he said hoarsely.
"If being alive is okay, then it's okay," Scotty said with relief. "But you're a mess, boy."
Rick looked up dazedly. Steve was smiling at him, and next to Steve, Orvil Harris! "Glad you're all right," the boy murmured.
"Thanks, Rick. I'm glad you finally came around. You had us worried for a bit. And, Rick, meet my cousin Link."
A tall, gaunt man stepped forward. "Howdy, Rick? How do you feel?"
"Woozy," Rick said honestly. "Help me up, somebody."
Scotty lifted him, then guided him to a lawn chair. "Sit down. You're too weak to stand." ”

“ By the time the storm last night had ended, darkness had set in, and it was only sensible to turn on the anchor light and remain in the Swamp Creek cove for the night. In spite of his unsettling experience, Rick and Scotty had not been deeply disturbed. Neither he nor Scotty believed in flying saucers—at least, not in saucers that kidnaped people, and the object Rick had seen had not been saucer-like. It had been shaped like a stingaree.
Stingarees don't fly.
Rick smiled to himself. During another vacation, skin diving in the Virgin Islands, he and Scotty had proved that octopuses don't wail. ”

“ Steve nodded approvingly. "Very good reasoning. Now connect up an electronics crook, Camillion, and that peculiar antenna."
"The balloons carry radio equipment," Scotty said promptly. "The antenna picks up their signals."
Steve nodded again. "That's reasonable. Now, why do the balloons carry radio equipment? And why are they launched?"
"We're like a dog chasing his tail," Rick said with a grin. "We're not getting anywhere, but we're covering plenty of ground." ”

“ What's shaped like a sting ray and flies over Chesapeake Bay? This is the eerie riddle which confronts Rick Brant and his friend Don Scott when, seeking shelter from a storm, they anchor the houseboat Spindrift in a lonely cove along the Maryland shore and spot the flying stingaree.
The "thing," they learn, is not the only one of its kind—one is actually suspected of having kidnaped a man!
The residents of the Eastern Shore of Maryland believe the strange objects are flying saucers, but, weary of ridicule, have ceased reporting the sightings. ”

“ That he was really toted off by some mysterious object? Nope. You assume he was hurt or killed falling out of the boat. You know that sharks come into the bay and sometimes swim up creeks. You figure that the currents sometimes act in odd ways, depending on the winds. You figure a dozen natural kinds of things, none connected with mysterious flying objects. You call a coroner's jury, and not a man on it is willing to say for the record that he believes in flying saucers. What happens?"
"Case closed," Scotty said slowly, "because the body isn't around. No proof of death, or even of accident. ”

“ Rick nodded sleepily. "That's what solid rocket fuel is called. It's poured into the casing around a form. The form is withdrawn after the fuel hardens. The shape is designed to give maximum burning surface. Since the solid fuel is grainy, it's called grain."
"Logical," Scotty replied with a languid wave of his hand. "All perfectly logical. I also understand that a rockoon is a combination of a rocket and a balloon. The balloon carries the rocket up to where the air is less dense, then the rocket fires and breaks away. How does the rocket know when to fire?" ”

“ I'll take your tank, since you have the most air, and swim right into the cove, find the 'what's-it' and swim out again. If it's too heavy to tow far, I can at least wrestle it part of the way, and then bury it in the mud. Meanwhile, you get the boat out where it's clear and be ready to pick me up."
"They'll see your bubbles, but they can't do anything about it with rifles," Scotty pointed out. "One thing they can do, though, is jump in after you. The cove isn't so deep that a pair of good swimmers couldn't tackle you. The lung wouldn't improve your chances by much."
"Too true," Rick observed. ”

“ By the time the boys met Steve at the small airport, both Rick and Scotty had writer's cramp, and the notebook was nearly used up. They had recorded over half a hundred sightings.
Steve listened to a report of their day with an appreciative smile. "Nothing like a mystery for keeping you two out of mischief," he told them. "Want to eat out? Or cook a steak in the yard?"
"Eat out," Scotty said promptly.
"We can get steak at home," Rick added. "But not Chesapeake Bay clam fritters or Maryland crab cakes." ”

“ Rick said softly.
"Okay. When we get to the boat, we'll wade across the channel and continue right on through the marsh grass to the bank of the creek. We'd better be as quiet as possible."
"I'm with you."
Carrying their swim fins, the boys started through the dense growth, Scotty in the lead. It was hard going. Mosquitoes whined in a steady swarm around their heads, but with the neoprene suits and helmets, only their faces and hands were exposed. Each traveled with one hand outstretched to fend off branches, the other hand waving the fins to chase the insects from their faces. ”

“ Rick said reluctantly. "We'll settle in, but we won't move in. We'll sleep on the boat. No need to use up your linens and stuff when we have sleeping bags if the weather is cold and cotton blankets when it's warm. Besides, housekeeping is easier on the boat."
Steve grinned. "I'll bet it is. If I know you two, you eat out of cans and never use a dish if you can help it. Your idea of washing a coffee cup is to hold it under running water or to dip it in the bay. Wait until your mother and the girls join you. Life will undergo a drastic change."
"Don't rub it in," Scotty said ruefully. ”

“ Steve had breakfast cooking when they arrived at the farmhouse, and after coffee, bacon, and eggs, they started on their mission.
"Daybreak is the lowest peak of daily activity," Steve said as they climbed into the runabout. He took the pilot's seat, while Rick and Scotty prepared to cast off.
"You might say that the first glimmer of daylight is man's worst hour," Steve continued. "It's the time when battles start, when planes take off for dawn bombing runs. I've read that it's the time when most deaths occur in hospitals, although I don't know for certain that it's true. ”

“ Rick hadn't told Steve of last night's meeting with the white-haired man or of the thinly veiled warning. He described them now in detail.
"Odd," Steve said. "This familiar face needs identifying. No normal person worries about anyone asking casual questions. That's a sure mark of insecurity. In other words, the man is afraid. People who are afraid often have something to hide. Do you have any reason to think he may be tied up with the flying stingarees or saucers?"
"None at all," Rick answered.
"Do you know where Calvert's Favor is?" Scotty asked. ”

“ Scotty approved. "The only thing that doesn't fit is the shape."
Rick asked, "What's a balloon? It's just a gas-tight container. We're used to thinking of balloons as spheres, because it's the most efficient shape for internal pressure. But a balloon can be any shape. Another thing—balloons for high altitudes aren't fully inflated on the ground. Maybe the flying stingarees have a different shape when they get higher and in less dense atmosphere where the gas distends them." ”

“ People around here are used to seeing them to the southeast, over Wallops. When I saw that sightings had been made over Swamp Creek at the time of sodium shots, I got an idea. It wasn't much to go on, but it was at least a good clue. The computer did the rest."
"Then Lefty Camillion and his friends have been intercepting data from our rocket launchings at Wallops," Scotty said unbelievingly. "But why? How could Lefty use data like that? It's all straight, unclassified scientific and meteorological stuff. He's no scientist."
Steve grinned. "I doubt that he even knows what the data are. ”

“ What's more important to us, it's the time of day when guards are most sleepy and least alert."
The young agent had been working as he talked, checking the outboard motor, checking the connections to the gasoline tank, and pumping pressure into it. Now he pressed the starter and the well-kept motor caught at once. Rick and Scotty cast off bow and stern lines and settled themselves in the seat next to Steve.
"Unless this mysterious Mr. Merlin suffers from sleepless nights, he's deep in slumber. The sound of a small boat won't disturb him, because he's used to the noise of motors from crabbers. ”

“ Rick nodded. "The circle we drew around all the sightings doesn't cover a very large territory. All the sightings have been within that circle. People had to look toward Swamp Creek to see the objects. Yet, they did something interesting. They grew smaller. What makes things seem to grow smaller?"
"Apparent size decreases with distance," Scotty replied promptly.
"Sure. And how do you get distance, when the sightings are all within a circle only a few miles in diameter?"
"Only one way. With altitude. The things had to be going up." ”

“ Scotty adjusted the tripod, while Rick took the telescope out of its case with reverent hands. It was a beautiful and delicate piece of equipment, Steve's personal property, and he appreciated the trust the agent had placed in them by allowing its use. He fitted the instrument to the mounting screw on the tripod, then aimed it through the six-inch window. When he squinted through the eyepiece, he saw only willow branches, but, by keeping his eye in place and cranking the geared tripod head, he quickly aligned the telescope with the trio under the willow. ”

“ Scotty, a husky, dark-haired boy clad only in red swimming trunks, came down the ladder from the cabin top and stood beside Rick in the cockpit. "Now that you woke me up to look at a fish, suppose you tell me where we are? Last thing I remember, we were passing under the Bay Bridge off Annapolis."
"That's Bloody Point Lighthouse behind us," Rick said. "Poplar Island is on the starboard and the Eastern Shore to port. That black thing sticking up ahead of us is a light buoy. When we reach it, we should be able to see the range markers into Knapps Narrows." ”

“ Steve asked.
"I know!" Rick exclaimed. "There were a few times when people said they saw yellow glows in the sky after they saw the objects. Isn't that it?"
Scotty nodded. "I've been counting. There were five instances. Two people said the glow wasn't really connected, because it came from Wallops Island."
"Why on earth didn't you include it in the chart?" Steve demanded.
"It doesn't fit," Scotty replied. "In every single case, the glow was to the southeast."
"Maybe it does fit," Steve said emphatically. "Boys, never leave out a bit of data because it doesn't seem to fit. ”

“ About thirty yards downstream from the entrance to this creek, there is a break in the line of swamp grass along the shore. It's a little lead, a channel maybe six feet wide and from two to three feet deep. It runs into the swamp. Right at the place where the water gets too narrow for the boat, a man who didn't care if he got muddy or wet could go through the brush to an old duck blind right across from the mansion. A pair of good glasses would give him a right good view of the whole thing."
"We couldn't see the mansion from the boat?" Rick asked. ”

“ He dropped it into the water, let out line, and tied the line fast to the bow cleat. "Okay, Steve."
The three got aboard the crab boat as Harris started his engine. "Make yourselves comfortable," the crabber invited. "There's a pair of glasses on the engine box."
With the binoculars Rick and Steve had brought, that made three pairs each. The crabber swung the boat around expertly and headed upstream. The sky was light now, and far overhead a wisp of cirrus was glowing pink, a warning of coming sunrise.
Rick sat on the gunwale and looked ahead. ”

“ Steve had never met the owner of Calvert's Favor, but because of Camillion's notorious reputation, Rick had been certain that Steve would recognize him on sight.
Steve saw the expression on Rick's face. He grinned. "You disappointed? First of all, my knowledge of Camillion is not greater than yours. I've never seen him in person, or had any reason to study him. Crime isn't JANIG's business. Second, one expects to see a duck near water, or a squirrel near a tree. Criminals are generally found near centers of crime. ”

“ Rick assured him.
"All right. Listen, boys, we have no idea what we're up against, but we do have some facts." Steve ticked them off on his fingers. "One, flying objects originate at the mansion. There's no other place on the creek that seems likely. Two, the house is inhabited by a man who doesn't like questions. Three, said man has a bodyguard who gets rough. Four, one man already is missing, perhaps because he got curious. ”

“ You can drive me to the airport at Cambridge and pick me up when I come back. That will leave you a car, and you can use the motorboat for exploring or for fishing. If you feel like skin diving, you can try for rock or hardheads off the northern tip of Taylors Island, right at the mouth of the river. Did you bring gear?"
"The whole set," Rick replied. "Lungs, compressors, guns, and even suits."
"You won't need suits. The bay is shallow and warm. At night you can relax right here. Plenty of books, TV, radio, or a chessboard. If it gets cool, there's wood for the fireplace." ”

“ A barometric switch can be installed that will act at a certain altitude, or a signal can be sent from the ground."
"The antenna," Scotty said. "It can send a signal."
"Sure."
"I'm with you all the way, until you say this shows why the stingarees fly. Why send up rockoons? What's the reason?"
Rick forgot he was holding a coffee cup and waved his hand. He recovered in time to keep from spilling the hot liquid on Steve's rug. "Scientific research is usually the reason for rockoons. They carry experiments."
Scotty snorted. "Are you telling me Lefty Camillion has turned scientist?" ”