Their light, showing a rusting iron ladder, also revealed the surface of stagnant water, around a small landing stage, built to float up and down with the tide. Around it, thickly clustered, were the dozen dories owned by Toby Tew.
Boards, on the lee side, nailed to the string-pieces, served to keep wind out in storms, and since the boarding was carried down below the tide marks, disturbances from wind drift did not much affect the tethered crabbing boats.
“If we find anything,” Don held the light while Chick descended, head bent to screen his eyes, “if we find a projector, and a battery, it will narrow down our suspicions to Toby, and point to him after all.”
“It will!” Chick agreed, reaching up to take the light, then jumping from the lower rungs of the hanging ladder which did not quite go down to the platform, allowing for its rise with the tide.
“Here I come!”
Don, with Chick lighting his way, made the climb and jump.
“Nothing on the platform,” remarked Chick sending the beam to and fro.
“Put it on the dories—that’s it. There!”
A note of triumph was in Don’s voice.
They hurried to the edge of the platform, drew a dory close, and were quickly within its cluttered hull.