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Updated: May 4, 2025
But somehow, Rick didn't think Orvil had been a party to the shooting. Maybe it was stubbornness, refusing to think the crabber was involved just because they liked him. Or maybe it was because the crabber had no reason for helping Merlin and his gang; at least Harris had no reason known to Rick and Scotty. They reached the boat and conferred in whispers that were inaudible six feet away.
He had no proof that the crabber hadn't suddenly turned on them; he just didn't believe it. Yesterday Scotty had seen watchers on the shore, presumably from Calvert's Favor. Apparently the watchers were there now. The boys had gone into shallow water, and their tanks had shown above the surface, drawing fire. It was the only reasonable explanation.
The boys watched in silence while the man caught a dozen crabs, then picked one from the bait and flipped it into the water. "Too small, I guess," Rick commented. "Must be. Where does the line go?" Rick pointed. A gallon oilcan, painted blue and white, bobbed gently in the creek. "That's where he's heading." The crabber approached the can, then flipped the line off the roller.
The crabber took out a blackened, much-used pipe and stoked it. "Link disappeared, all right. We found his boat yonder." He pointed to a spot on the marshy shore. "He didn't drown?" Rick pressed. Harris shrugged. "Not very likely. We'd have found his body. Way the tides were that day, there was no ebb tide strong enough to carry a body out into deep water. The creek was clear. We'd have seen him."
It was not the first time, by many, that Dick Lee had found himself bathing in that bay without any time given him to undress. And now it was discovered that the shipwrecked crabber had never for one instant lost his hold of the line, to the other end of which was fastened his precious sheep's-head.
"There's the end of his line, over near shore. He'll pass close to us." "That's why the motor sounded loud," Rick guessed. "He moves from one line to another. Last time he came by the boat he woke me up." "Same here." Scotty nodded. The crabber moved methodically, his boat proceeding at a steady pace toward the houseboat. As he came abreast, he called, "Mornin'." The boys returned the greeting.
In a few moments the motorboat, which turned out to be as long as the houseboat, came alongside. Rick took the line thrown by the crabber and made it fast so that the crab boat would drift astern. He looked into the boat with interest. Covers on four baskets showed that the crabber had collected four bushels of crabs.
Steve said nothing for a moment, then he headed directly toward the crabber. As the two boats closed, Harris paused in his crabbing and watched the three in the runabout approach. Steve matched the crab boat's speed and nudged the runabout alongside. "Howdy," he called. Orvil Harris reached out and caught the runabout's gunwale, then took the line Rick passed to him.
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