“A signal!” Jerry whispered. “He’s trying to attract the attention of a boat out at sea!”
“Shall we go for him?” asked Mr. Parker.
“Wait!” Jerry advised. “He’s not the only one we’re after. We’re stalking bigger game.”
At intervals for the next fifteen minutes, George Emory repeated the flashlight signals. Then he turned off the light and waited.
Anxiously, Jerry, Penny and Mr. Parker kept their faces turned to the sea. They sensed that the hour of action was at hand, and it worried them that Army men had failed to arrive.
“Look, Dad!” Penny suddenly whispered. She had glimpsed far from shore a long shadowy object which easily could be a boat. No lights were showing nor had she heard any sound.
“I don’t see a thing,” Mr. Parker whispered back. “Yes! Now I do! Jove! It looks like a submarine that’s surfaced. I can make out the conning tower!”
“But why would it dare come here?” Penny speculated. “Won’t it be detected by the patrol planes?”
“Tonight’s a bad night,” Jerry pointed out. “Besides, the shore is so indented at this point of coast that perfect protection is almost impossible. They’re sending a boat, that’s sure!”
A small craft had been launched from the wave-washed deck of the submarine. Manned by two men who rowed with muffled oars, it slowly approached the shore. When it was very close the watchers behind the sand dune saw by its grotesque sausage shape that it was a large, rubber boat. Like a gray ghost it slid over the water.