"Same here," Scotty replied. "Let's get into swim trunks."
As the two changed, Rick asked, "Suppose we find something, but can't get it up without help? How do we mark the place?"
Scotty paused. Normally they would simply attach a line to a float and secure the float to the object. But a float would attract attention. "Take bearings?"
Rick shook his head. "The boat will be swinging at anchor. It might be hard to get good bearings. Would a piece of fish line work? We could tie it to the object, carry it to the shore, and secure it to something underwater. The line would sink. Later, we could just drag until we caught the line."
"It would work," Scotty agreed. "There's a new spool of heavy line on the shelf in the closet. Fifty yards. That should do."
"Especially since the most we would need is fifty feet," Rick agreed. "I'll stick it in a belt pocket, just in case."
Back on deck, Rick started the houseboat's outboard motors and listened critically. They were operating smoothly. Scotty walked up the pier and untied the bowline. At Rick's signal, he stepped aboard on the foredeck, bringing the line with him. Rick cast off the stern line, pushed the houseboat away from the pier, then put the motors in gear.
The trip to Swamp Creek was a familiar one now. Rick cut corners, knowing he had enough water under the keel, heading directly for the creek entrance. Scotty came back to the cockpit and joined him.
"Do you suppose Orvil Harris will be around?"
Rick shrugged. "It's pretty late for a crabber. He's probably gone by now."