On Friday night, Scotty glanced up from the leather chair in Rick's room. "What time is it?"
Rick was lying on the bed, studying the ceiling and working on the problem of the tower scratches and the shifting current. He looked at his watch. "Ten of nine. Why?"
"Almost time for the trawlers to be getting back to Seaford."
"As though I didn't know it! Unless we get a call within the next half-hour, we might as well forget it for tonight, too."
Scotty went back to his book. Rick resumed staring at the ceiling. It had occurred to him that there was an old wrecker's trick, well used in the days of sailing ships. The trick was to extinguish a navigation light so ships would run aground and be easy prey for the wreckers. And sometimes the wreckers helped out by raising false lights. Now if the automatic light at the tip of the reef could be cut off, and if a false light were raised on the old tower . . . they just had to talk with Captain Killian! Bill Lake thought a shift of current and a patch of mist had been responsible for him losing the light and putting him off course. But what if Smugglers' Light had been cut off and a false light lighted on the old tower?
Rick snapped his fingers. "I've got it!"
Scotty looked up. "Got what?"
Just then the phone rang.
The boys almost fell over each other in their haste. Rick got to it first and said a breathless hello.
"Cap'n Mike speaking. Rick?"