“It was positively baffling,” stated Mr. Pauling in reply to a question. “I knew they were filled to the gunwales with liquor and I knew as well as I wanted to that the cargo was going to the States and yet, when they got here and our men boarded them they were either empty or carried legitimate cargoes or else they never touched our ports and came back empty. It’s common talk that the stuff is going to us, but no one has given away how it’s
done yet. Why, I even had one trailed—shadowed by a disguised cutter—and they kept her within sight for days and then I’ll be hanged if she didn’t come back without a sign of cargo. Now where did they land it? Only solution is they got cold feet and heaved it overboard.”
“More likely they met some other craft during the night and transhipped,” suggested Mr. Henderson. “I imagine that’s how they get it in. Have some prearranged signal and spot and ship the stuff in at another port while they sail boldly into harbor. Of course we’re watching for them and let up on other places and while we’re boarding the suspect the other craft gets in on some unfrequented bit of coast and meets a truck or car. It’s not hard. We can’t guard all the coast with our force and I’m sure that game’s played sometimes, if not always. We’ve taken a lot of stuff that afterwards proved to be colored water or cane-juice and of course they didn’t bring that from Cuba or the Bahamas just for the sake of getting our goats.”
“And then there were the Chinese,” resumed Mr. Pauling. “Of course there we’ve another difficulty
because, once set ashore or near shore, John can look after himself and doesn’t need a truck to carry him out of our sight. Just the same I’d give a lot to know the secret of their putting it over on us.”
“I’ve often wondered if those boys—Tom and Frank—weren’t right about that strange conversation they overheard,” ruminated Mr. Henderson. “I’m morally certain they were all right in their cross bearings with their loops, although I didn’t tell them so—and yet we found nothing there. Have you asked the boys if they’ve heard anything more of it lately?”
“No, but I will,” Mr. Pauling replied. “They’ve been so busy with this new idea I expect they’ve forgotten all about it. I promised I’d go down to see their— Hello, there’s the phone. Wonder who ’tis.”
Leaning forward, Mr. Pauling drew the extension phone towards him, lifted the receiver and placed it at his ear.
“Yes, this is Mr. Pauling speaking,” he said. Then his face blanched, his cigar dropped from his fingers and in anxious, frightened tones he
cried, “What’s that you say? Frank! What’s that? Tom under water! Calling for help! Having a fight with—with what? Never mind! Calling through the radio! Yes, I’ll be down instantly!”