The plane traveled in a straight line right across North Cove. The houseboat was at anchor a few hundred yards offshore, and the pram was tied up to the rear rail. There was no sign of life.
The boys reached the Whiteside pier without seeing the girls or the boat. Scotty put the plane into a tight circle and looked at Rick helplessly. "Now what?"
"They can't have gone far," Rick mused. "Not in the rowboat."
"They had the aqualungs," Scotty pointed out. "They must have expected to use them."
"Right. But how? If they planned to get aboard the houseboat, they wouldn't be using the aqualungs. Or would they?"
"Search me."
"Wouldn't they just row up to the houseboat on some excuse or other? I wish I'd looked. Barby might have taken those clothes Dad wore home last night."
"We can't just float around and talk," Scotty said urgently. "Let's do something."
Rick felt the same way. "Okay. Throttle down and go slow. We'll scan the whole coastline from here to Spindrift."
Scotty did so, holding the little plane barely above stalling speed. Rick leaned out and traced the shore with anxious eyes.