There was no hesitation in Bob’s reply.
“We’re going on as rapidly as we can. Every minute counts now. We may run straight into a whole kettle of trouble, but we’ll have to handle it in some fashion.”
They lapsed into silence as the sturdy amphibian sped out over Chesapeake Bay. Fishing boats could be seen below and several freighters, bound for Baltimore, churned up a white wake in the blue of the bay. It was indeed a calm and peaceful afternoon but Bob’s mind was anything but peaceful or calm.
Then they were over Maryland and a few minutes later the uneven line of the east shore was visible.
The pilot, in his cockpit up ahead, was scanning the ground intently. The ship veered a little to the right and they circled over a sprawling village before which a broad, sandy beach broke the gentle swell of the Atlantic. Half a mile from the village proper was a sheltered cove with a score of small fishing wharfs. It was toward this that the pilot of the amphibian nosed his craft.
As they swung over the cove Bob could see the upturned faces of fishermen as they stared at the unexpected visitor. Bob looked at the boats in the cove with extreme care, but none of them were unusual and none appeared capable of great speed.
The amphibian smacked the water and spray flew out on both sides as they slowed down and taxied in toward the shore. The pilot cut the engine when they were near a low wharf and dropped a light anchor.
A friendly fisherman put out in a dory and pulled alongside the plane.
“Any trouble?” he asked.
“Not yet,” replied Lieutenant Gibbons, “but we’re looking for a black speed boat. It’s been described as about 30 feet long and capable of 40 miles an hour. It’s a cabin boat with an antennae above the cabin. Ever seen anything like it around here?”