“Walk up toward the tent, Crunch.” It was Dietz’s voice. “Keep them from coming down here if they wake up. Okay, Specks, start drilling.”
That was the plot! Drill holes in the dory. Make it unfloatable. What devilment had they planned for the cruiser? These thoughts flashed through Biff’s mind.
Just as Specks lifted one leg over the gunwale, Charlie Keene, still hidden, let go with his automatic. Eight shots in rapid succession shattered the night silence.
From the cabin cruiser came blast after blast from the boat’s foghorn. Hurrammppp! ... Hurrammppp! ... Hurrammppp!
Specks leaped out of the dory.
“They’re laying for us,” Dietz shouted. “Run for the boat!”
Uncle Charlie had slipped in another cartridge clip, and this time his eight rapid-fire shots were aimed just over the heads of the fleeing Dietz and Specks. Derek kept working the foghorn. The noise tore at the night.
Dietz slipped and fell into the water as he jumped for his boat. Specks was frantically shoving it off the beach. Dietz scrambled in. Bullets from the automatic’s third clip were stinging the water around Dietz’s boat like angry wasps.
The frightened pair finally got their engine started, backed off at full throttle, swung around and headed out to sea.
The foghorn continued its angry growling.