"We're not likely to," Rick assured him.
As they sped past the Seaford water front toward Smugglers' Reef, Rick plotted a plan of action. First, if they were to spy on Creek House, they needed to know a little more about the area. He assumed that they would hurry from Spindrift by boat, since it would take too long to go to Whiteside and try to get a car. The Cub was out; there was no place to land at Seaford.
The best way of finding a good hide-out from which to watch the Kelsos would be to take a photograph from the air. He could do that this very afternoon and develop it at home. An enlargement, which the photo lab at Spindrift was equipped to make, would be better than a map.
He felt better now that they had an objective. But! "Suppose the Albatross doesn't do any smuggling before Saturday?" he asked Scotty.
"Tough luck. Captain Tyler will just have to suffer a while longer. Besides, this is only a hearing. If he's tried, it won't be until later."
"Guess that's right," Rick agreed. He swung the launch around the tip of Smugglers' Reef, past the light and the wreck of the Sea Belle. For the first time since the fatal night, there was no one at the trawler or on the reef. He put the launch close in shore at the sandy strip near the Creek House fence, and Scotty jumped to the beach with the anchor as before.
Rick joined him on the sand. "Now for a look at the tower. Where did you see the marks?"
Scotty pointed to the rusted structure. There were four upright girders slanting inward from the base to where the top platform had been. Horizontal girders held the structure together one-third and two-thirds of the way up. "The marks are on the first row of cross-pieces," he said. "On this side."
The steel climbing ladder was on the Seaford, or opposite side, of the tower halfway between the uprights. Rick looked at it dubiously. "It's pretty rusty. Think it will bear our weight?"
"Maybe only one of us had better go," Scotty conceded. "I'll try it."