“Crunch a spy?”
From the tone of the Indian’s voice, Biff could tell that Crunch was pleased. He liked the idea of being a spy.
“That’s right, Crunch,” Uncle Charlie continued. “You’d pretend to be still working for him, but you’d watch everything he did. He might even find the pearl fishery, and we’d surely want to know about that. Then, when we got back, you could tell us everything that had been going on. How about it?”
“Crunch do it. He go now.”
The Indian rose to his feet and faded into the night for his half-mile swim back to the island camp of the enemy. Biff wondered what kind of a reception he would receive from Dietz but felt sure Crunch could take care of himself.
The next morning the boys and Charles Keene were up at the first crack of dawn. Over a hasty breakfast, they went over their plan for the last time. As the sun boiled up out of the Atlantic, the three headed out to sea.
It wasn’t long before they saw Dietz’s boat come into sight, rocking above the horizon off their starboard side.
“Here we go,” Charles Keene said. “Drop anchor.”
Derek heaved the hook over. Biff was already donning his diving apparatus. Derek was only a few moments behind as Biff slipped into the warm waters of the Caribbean and made his descent.
The boys stayed down for about half an hour. When they surfaced and climbed aboard, Biff cracked open an oyster. Immediately, he let out a shout and danced up and down.