"The tripod," Rick requested in a low whisper. "If the ground is so soft I can't get a firm stance, I'll need it."
Scotty handed him the equipment, then went back and got the tripod. Rick screwed the camera into place with a few turns of the tripod nut. Scotty disconnected the power cord that led from the power pack to the camera and coiled it up. They could reconnect it when they needed it. Meanwhile, it would interfere with their progress. He slung the power pack over his shoulder.
Rick put the camera and tripod on the deck, then turned his back to the creek and lowered himself. The water was cold and the muck seemed to reach up for him. He felt firmer ground under his toes and let himself go, then held his hands within reach of the boat as he continued to sink. He was up to his thighs when the ground finally held. He reached up and took the camera, holding it high in the air, and started forward.
Each step was an effort. He had to lift his leg high before each step, and the mud clung. Behind him, he heard the sucking, splashing, of Scotty's progress.
Then the ground began to get firmer until at last there was only a thin film of water and about a foot of mud. The lights of Creek House could be seen through the rushes now. He held up his hand as a warning to Scotty. They were close to the bank. In a moment he parted the reeds and looked through. Scotty moved to his side. The Albatross was tying up at Creek House pier, and Brad Marbek was just leaping to the dock where the Kelsos waited. But the boys were too far down toward the creek mouth. They would have to move along the bank. Rick gave Scotty a little push in that direction and Scotty understood. He went back into the marsh a few feet, then led the way.
It was easier going, but still far from pleasant. The muck gave every step a slurping sound, and it clung in gobs. Then the vantage point Scotty selected was reached, directly opposite the pier. They parted the rushes slightly and looked out.
The crew of the Albatross was climbing down under the pier. As the boys watched, they poled out a shallow-draft, broad-beamed rowboat about fifteen feet long. It was the barge on which the contraband had waited in the swamp.
Rick put his lips to Scotty's ear. "Wonder why Captain Douglas didn't see that?"
"He probably did. It wouldn't mean anything with the cargo gone."
Sensible, Rick thought. There would have been no occasion for the captain to mention it. He searched for a bit of firmer ground on which to rest the camera and found it. He began to worry about the hum of the dynamo. Would it be heard when they turned it on? And the filament of the infrared searchlight would be visible, too, against the dark background of the marsh. Did they dare try it?