Duke grinned. "That isn't coffee, skipper. It's printer's ink with cream and sugar. Go on, Rick, or someone. Read the rest of it."
"Byline," Rick said, "by Jerry Webster, and under that it says copyrighted by the Morning Record. How did you copyright it so quickly, Duke?"
"Sent a copy air mail to the copyright office and enclosed a dollar. The letter will go out tonight. It's standard procedure. Go on, read. I edited Jerry's story so fast I didn't have a chance to enjoy it."
Rick read on. "'A Seaford trawler captain, four members of his crew, and two New Yorkers were arrested tonight on gunrunning charges after a surprise raid by State Police officers culminated a series of events that included the wrecking of the trawler Sea Belle, the use of a new invention by the two youngest members of the Spindrift Island Foundation to photograph the transfer of arms under cover of darkness on the high seas, the kidnapping and maltreatment of a Morning Record reporter, and a fight in the attic of the Creek House hotel that was ended by the timely intervention of a retired sea captain.'" Rick got the last words out with his last bit of breath.
Scotty looked at Jerry with admiration. "He's not only a distance runner, he's a distance writer. That was a hundred-yard sentence."
"I cannot tell a lie," Jerry said modestly. "I did it with my little dictionary. Written by an ancestor who was also famous. Noah Webster."
"'One of the most surprising disclosures,'" Rick read on, "'was the reason for the stubborn silence of Captain Thomas Tyler, master of the trawler Sea Belle, which was wrecked on Smugglers' Reef a week ago. As reported in previous editions, Captain Tyler maintained an obstinate silence as to the real reason for the wreck of the trawler in the face of pleas from friends and officials. He had maintained that he was solely responsible and that his error in judgment had been caused by liquor. After the arrest of the smugglers, Captain Tyler willingly told this reporter that he had discovered the smuggling activities of Captain Bradford Marbek and Roger and James Kelso two weeks before.'"
"That was a good guess we made," Cap'n Mike said soberly. "Poor Tom. He was in some spot. He knew about the smuggling, but he was like we were. Couldn't prove a thing. He could have told the police and asked for protection, but they wouldn't have had grounds for holding Brad and the Kelsos. They would have been free to carry out their threats against his family inside of twenty-four hours."
"That's right," Scotty said. "But he didn't know any more than we did what they were smuggling."
The axes of police officers had disclosed rifles, submachine guns, and ammunition in the cases innocently labeled as sewing machines, and no one had been more surprised than the boys.