Rick swung into the Seaford turnoff and slowed for the main street. He went straight ahead to the water front and then turned right. In a few moments the car drew up in front of Cap'n Mike's shack.
The captain opened the door and peered out. "Be with you in a minute." In much less than a minute he was out again, clad in a jacket and officer's cap.
"Howdy," he greeted them. "See much from your airplane?"
"How did you know it was our airplane?" Rick asked curiously.
"Pshaw! You don't give people credit for knowing much, do you? I'll bet everyone in Seaford knows about your airplane. Everyone who reads the Whiteside Morning Record, anyway."
"But all Cubs look alike," Rick protested, "and most of them are painted yellow."
Cap'n Mike snorted. "What of it? No other yellow planes in this area, and you been seen on the ground in Seaford twice already. What would anyone think? Especially when you're on a direct bearing for Spindrift when you leave?"
"He's got something there," Scotty said. "It's a logical conclusion."
Rick had to agree. "Well, you're the guide, Cap'n. Where to?"
"The pier." Cap'n Mike looked at the fast-fading light in the west. "It's time for the trawlers to be coming in. Reckon we'll talk to a couple of folks and get a look at the Albatross and her crew."