reef off the north end of a large island. The southern side was densely
overgrown with palmettoes, pines, oaks and a tangled thicket of
mangroves along shore.
“Get out the field glasses, Billy,” she ordered “and we’ll see if we
can find any pirates.”
“Oh-h!” gurgled Billy. He made a dive for the stern locker where they
kept odds and ends. It was all wonderful make-believe to him.
Kitty had slowed the launch, and before she took the glasses she cut
off the motor and let the boat drift. A quick survey of the dump heap
made her want to explore, even if it was a repulsive spot, but that was
out of the question with Billy along. She was afraid to come even this
close for fear he would pick up some germ. The very thought made her
hand him the glasses and start the motor again.
Though it was already growing late she decided to take a turn around
the small island. She was glad she had taken the chance when she
reached the opposite side. There she found a deep, open channel, moving
eastward toward the sea. Billy kept looking through the glasses toward
the island while Kitty studied the channel.
“Looks deep enough to float a sub,” she thought.
“Kit, let’s go home!” exclaimed Billy, sudden terror in his voice.
“Why?”
“I saw somebody looking at us from the woods yonder. Maybe it was a
pirate.”
Though Kitty took the glasses from her small brother’s hands she could
see nothing in the mangrove jungle. Had it been only his vivid
imagination, or had he seen someone? However, she did not tarry to find
out as she gave her motor all the power it would take and headed for
home.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER TEN
THE BEACH PARTY
It was four o’clock by the time Kitty came ashore on Palmetto Island at
a landing spot a block behind her house. She sent Billy home with an
armful of bundles to bring Jane down to help with the unloading.
There was many a job to be done in the next hour, but Kitty had learned
how to make every minute count. She put the groceries in the closet and
the perishable food in the ice box, she planned the evening meal for
her father and Billy, and had just put on her slacks when Vera drove up
and honked the horn.
It was nice to sit back, temporarily free of responsibility, and enjoy
her ride across the island with the competent Vera at the wheel. In the
basket at her feet were the ingredients for Chief Krome’s famous shrimp
creole, all except the shrimp which the boys were at that moment
catching.
The drive to the beach carried them over a half dozen bridges, spanning
marshy inlets. Finally they rolled off the pavement into a sand-rutted
road, winding through a palmetto thicket. The station wagon turned off
finally to the hard beach, and they rolled along within a few feet of
the tumbling breakers.
As Kitty looked across the blue-green water mottled with whitecaps, she
found it difficult to believe that enemy subs might, at that very
moment, be lurking in the cool depths.
“Somebody sent down a boat off shore in the last twenty-four hours,”
said Sally. “Look at that oily scum on the water, and the junk floating
ashore.”
The receding tide had left part of a water-soaked bunch of bananas
right in their path, while crates, bottles, empty boxes and splintered
timbers bobbed up and down on the tide.
“We have just three hours to fix our chow, eat and get out of here,”
said Vera, “or I’ll never get through that sandy road without lights.”
“I suppose it is too close to the beach to use headlights in there,”
said Judy.
They all knew that no lights were permitted anywhere along the entire
shore, and that the beach was even more carefully patrolled at night
than in the day.
“I don’t care to get stuck on a sandy road again,” said Vera.
They were to meet the boys a mile downshore where an inlet cut through
the beach to join the sea. The boys had already been shrimping a couple
of hours in the shallows of this inlet. When the station wagon turned a
sharp bend in the beach the girls saw a curl of smoke rising beyond a
large sand dune that shielded the light of the campfire from possible
watchers at sea.
Vera had to keep the car to a narrow strip of beach between the rolling
dry dunes and the breakers. When the boys saw them pull up behind the
dune they came trotting over to help unload.
“We’ve got the nicest mess of shrimp you ever saw,” boasted Ned Miller
proudly.
“How long have you been here?” asked Kitty.
“Long enough to catch something more than shrimp,” retorted Jimmy.
“You’re not ahead of us,” Sally told them. “We saw rubbish washing up
all along shore. A U-boat must have hit somebody out there.”
“We don’t claim we’ve located the U-boat,” admitted Ned, “but we did
find an old bateau hidden under some mangroves.”
“At least five miles from any habitation,” added Jimmy.
“Oh, I thought they had something,” said Vera with a laugh. “If you had
lived in this part of the country as long as I have, you’d be used to
bateaux and old boats in all sorts of nooks.”
Kitty watched Brad’s face intently during this exchange, and finally
their eyes met. His expression implied that he would tell her more
later. There was no opportunity, however, in the next hour for them to
talk privately. The boys were already preparing the shrimp for the pot,
and Kitty quickly mixed the other ingredients.
The shrimp creole was soon cooking. In the meantime they sat on the
sands around the campfire. Its warm glow was more than welcome in the
biting salt air. Jimmy Barnes amused them with a hair-raising tale
while they waited.
“The beach guard stopped to chat with us a few minutes ago,” Jimmy
began.
The Coast Guard Station was several miles down the coast from the
Marine Base. Kitty had seen very little of those men since she came to
Palmetto Island.
“Jim asked the chap if he didn’t get lonesome down here,” put in Ned.
“‘Lonesome,’ said the guard, ‘why man, I’ve got a box seat at the
livest show in America.’ Then he told us something that’ll make your
eyes pop,” explained Jimmy. “About a week ago he said a sub was hit
right in sight of Palmetto Island, and you’d never guess what they
found aboard.”
“Cut out the suspense, Ned, and tell us what,” Vera ordered.
“Fresh bread wrapped in Bayshore Bakery paper.”
“No, not really!” exclaimed Kitty, recalling her interesting visit to
the bakery, and the spicy little cakes each nutrition student had been
given as a souvenir.
“Of course nobody can blame the Bayshore Bakery,” Jimmy hastened to
say. “But it only goes to show that the U-boats are getting all sorts
of supplies from our own towns. They say that bread was fresh—couldn’t
have been more than a day old.”
“It’s hard to believe such things are going on,” said Lana Bright, her
big brown eyes wide as she glanced anxiously toward the eastern horizon.
In the good old days there had always been steamers or small craft on
the horizon, but now every ship that passed must be convoyed for
protection against subs. Sally and Lana had been brought up on the
southern coast and found it hard to realize that a death-dealing enemy
could encroach on their childhood playground, as they had always
considered the beach.
“And that’s still happening even after most people feel we’ve
practically got the U-boat situation in hand,” commented Kitty.
“Yes, and when we take the complacent attitude that we’ve got any of
this war business under control and sit down on the job there’s bound
to be trouble,” stated Brad.
“That Coast Guard chap also told us about those oil tankers that were
attacked right off this very shore last week,” continued Jimmy.
“I heard the firing!” exclaimed Kitty. “At first I thought it was
thunder, but Dad said when he came home that a U-boat had been sunk out
here.”
“And the guard saw the whole works,” Ned told them eagerly. “He said
the tankers were going down-coast when the sub attacked them. In two
minutes he had the Coast Guard Station over his walkie-talkie, and ten
minutes later our planes were dropping depth bombs. And boy, they got
that sub! I’d have given anything to be down here! Makes me wish I’d
gone into the Coast Guard!”
After hearing all this Kitty felt still more uneasy about her
experience earlier in the afternoon. Could it be possible that the man
Billy had seen on the island was the same who owned that boat hidden in
the mangroves? She had noticed no boat herself, but one certainly could
have been hidden in the dense shrubbery that overhung the water.
Kitty was relieved when their supper was ready, and the hungry boys had
been served. Vera poured the hot coffee, and Sally supplied them with
fresh bread from the Bayshore Bakery.
“Makes you feel sort of funny, eating this bread and knowing the
Germans have recently eaten bread out of the same kind of wrappers,”
said Kitty, giving Brad a significant look as she handed him a
high-piled plate.
“Let’s sit over on that palmetto log,” he suggested when she picked up
her own plate.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
[Illustration: _“The Coast Guard Saw It All,” Ned Told Them_]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Other couples had paired off, and Kitty was glad that at last she had a
chance to talk privately with Brad.
“What about that boat you saw?” she asked in a low tone when they were
seated.
“Wish the others hadn’t spread the news around.”
“Do you think it has any connection with the mysterious business we’re
trailing?”
“There’s no telling. If it leaks out at the hospital that people are
getting wise to the skulduggery it may put a temporary stop to the
dirty business and throw us off the trail.”
“Where did you see that boat?” Kitty asked.
“South end of that island—opposite where they’re burning the hospital
waste.”
Kitty’s fork stopped in mid-air, and she stared speechless at Brad a
moment. “Why Brad, I passed that very spot today.”
“You?” he exclaimed incredulously. “What were you doing there alone?”
“Not alone. Billy was with me.” Briefly she gave him an account of her
day, beginning with the conversation in her father’s office. “Brad, I’m
convinced Punaro is smuggling something out of the hospital with the
garbage. Who knows but what he’s the one keeping these U-boats supplied
with fresh bread, green vegetables and stuff like that.”
“They’re getting it from somewhere, and that’s a certainty,” stated
Brad. He was silent a moment, then said anxiously, “But Kitty, you
shouldn’t have gone off there in the marshes alone.”
“Billy was with me. You forget I was practically brought up in a boat,
Brad. I’m never afraid on the water.”
“But it’s dangerous now. Promise me, Kit, you won’t ever go off like
that alone again.”
She laughed at his fears, but her pulse beat a little faster because of
his solicitude.
“I may have to sometime, Brad. But I’ll promise to be more careful.”
“Why, anything could have happened to you. That man could have fired
from the mangroves, and nobody would ever have known what had become of
you two.”
“But I had to know where that barge took the stuff, what the general
situation was. I didn’t even think about being nervous—that is, not
till Billy told me about seeing the man through our glasses.”
They were silent while they finished their supper, then Kitty said,
“Brad, I’ve always heard—that spies come ashore from the subs in
rubber boats.”
“So they do.”
“But didn’t Jimmy say the one they saw was an old bateau?”
“So it was. Maybe that’s the boat that comes out to meet the enemy
boats. We’ve already caught several of the native fishermen round here
in the pay of enemy spies. No doubt there’re still plenty of others
free and active.”
“It seems incredible that anyone could be so unpatriotic and low.”
“You don’t know people like I do, Kit. Plenty of people will sell their
very souls for a little money.”
“But the risks they take! How do they get away with it?”
“You’d be surprised if you knew. Why, when we first went to war fishing
boats all along the coast were supplying German subs with gasoline
right under the nose of the authorities.”
“And all of us so skimped for gasoline!”
“Then the government took over most of the fishing boats, and
conditions improved.”
Kitty leaned closer and said with determination, “And Brad, we’re going
to put a stop to the dirty work going on at our hospital! If I can’t
give all my time to my country maybe I can help in this way.”
“I’m afraid we’ve got a big job, Kit. But every day I become more
certain that there’s something going on round there that is really bad.”
She glanced at him sharply. “Anything new turned up?”
He nodded. “It may or may not be important. I talked to Ivy, the man
who looks after the incinerator.”
“Oh! Do you think he’s working with Punaro and maybe Lieutenant Cary?”
“No, I don’t. I believe Ivy’s on the level if ever a man was. He’s
terribly upset over not being able to get the incinerator fixed. He
says repair parts have come twice, and both times they didn’t fit.”
“Somebody at the factory is trying to hold up the repairs?”
“Looks that way. And Ivy swears the explosion in the incinerator was
the work of saboteurs. Poor fellow, he almost got a bob-tail for it
himself. If he hadn’t had such a wonderful record for five years back I
guess he would have.”
“What do you think all this adds up to, Brad?”
“Seems plain as the nose on a man’s face. The incinerator is kept out
of order to give a free hand to the spies in getting the stuff out of
the hospital and into the marshes, where it can be picked up by the
enemy.”
Kitty felt the goose flesh prickle along her spine. She had never
dreamed when she came to Palmetto Island and went into Canteen work
that she would find herself in the midst of such dangerous intrigue.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
CHAPTER ELEVEN
TERRAPIN ISLAND
Kitty saw her father reading the evening paper as Brad brought her home
about nine o’clock.
“Won’t you come in?” she asked, though she knew her voice betrayed her
weariness.
“Not tonight. You’ve had a full day and better get some rest.”
“I am tired,” she admitted, but she felt a glow of happiness that he
was so understanding.
“Guess your dad is sort of lonesome. He’ll want to hear all about what
you’ve been doing. He wouldn’t like it, Kit, if he knew what chances
you’ve been taking.”
“No, I suppose not,” she admitted. “I’d better be careful what I say,
or he may try to stop my Sherlock Holmes business.”
When she went into the living room her father glanced over the top of
his paper. “Enjoy your trip to the beach?” he asked, still somewhat
preoccupied.
“It was wonderful. Almost like old times.” She sat on a footstool near
him, and took off the kerchief that had bound up her hair. All the
girls had worn slacks and kerchiefs for the picnic instead of their
Canteen uniforms.
“A boat’s been sunk offshore. The beach was full of wreckage.”
“Yes. One went down not far from here yesterday.”
“I had no idea so many were still being sunk.”
“Far more than get into the papers.”
“One of the boys told us about them capturing a sub that had fresh
bread on it from Bayshore Bakery. That seems incredible!”
Her father let his paper slide to his lap and reached for his pipe.
“Oh, they’re getting supplies all the time—food, gasoline, and many
other things, no doubt.”
“Can’t they put a stop to it?”
“Not as long as weak human beings can be bribed by the glint of gold.”
“And for other reasons, too. Do you suppose any men are in our Army and
Navy who are agents of the Nazis and Japs?”
“Certainly not, Kit,” her father answered, then added a bit dubiously.
“Well, I suppose it could happen. In an organization as large and as
rapidly built as this, one might slip through. But you may be sure they
would not stay long, for with our intelligence service, their
activities would soon be brought to light.”
“But sometimes even high officials are new men, haven’t been in
long—like the doctors they recruit.” Kitty was thinking definitely of
Lieutenant Cary, but didn’t mention his name.
“Yes, of course. They have to give a man of that caliber a commission.”
“And right away they’re put into positions of authority where they can
help the enemy, if they’ve a mind to.”
“Yes, of course. But, as I said, they soon show their colors.”
Her father paused, his match halfway to his pipe as he looked at her
searchingly. “But why all this interest in such things, Kitten? You’ve
become a walking question-box.”
“Oh, the talk you pick up makes you wonder about lots of things,” she
replied evasively. “After I asked you this morning about the disposal
of the waste I got to wondering what they do with all the food scraps.”
Her father looked surprised at such a question and repeated, “Food
scraps?”
“I often see the ward boys dumping food left by the patients into big
buckets.”
“Oh, that. It’s contracted for by a cattleman. Beeson, I believe his
name is. He lives on Terrapin Island, and uses the waste to feed his
hogs.”
* * * * *
Next morning Brad came by to go to church with Kitty. As they were
walking home together she asked, “Brad, do you know where Terrapin
Island is?”
“No, but I can find out. Up at the hospital they have some very fine,
detailed maps of every island and inlet along this coast.”
“Soundings, too, and water depths?”
“I should think so. I never studied them closely. They were done by
some boys over at the Marine Base—fellows who used to work for the
Coast Geodetic Survey.”
“Wish I could have a look at them.”
“Might stir up some comment, Kit. No use to lay ourselves open to
questioning.”
“No, of course not.”
“What did you want to look up specially?”
“I was wondering yesterday when I went exploring if that inlet flowing
around the south end of that island is deep enough to float a sub.”
Brad laughed. “You can put that worry out of your mind, Kit. Any inlet
along this coast that’s deep enough to float a sub is thoroughly
guarded and protected by netting at the sea entrance—under water of
course.”
“But that’s no assurance that small rubber boats can’t come in for
supplies.”
“Oh, no, nor that traitors from our shores can’t slip out to waiting
subs. And, of course, we know that’s being done all the time.”
“Brad, wouldn’t it be wonderful if you and I could do something to nip
that sort of thing in the bud?”
“Kit, don’t be too sure we can do anything about it. We’re dealing with
clever crooks, with devilishly keen minds.”
A few minutes later when Brad paused at Kitty’s door she said, “Can’t
you come in and have dinner with us? Jane always fixes something a
little extra because Dad eats dinner with us at noon on Sundays.”
“You’re a peach, Kit! It really would feel good to stick my feet under
a home table once more.”
Mr. Carter made Brad welcome while Kitty went back to have Jane set an
extra place at the table.
They were half through dinner when Billy said, “Dad, let’s go boat
riding. You promised to take me some time.”
“So you did, Dad, as soon as the weather was mild enough. It couldn’t
be a more perfect day to get out.”
Mr. Carter glanced at Brad and said, “They forget a war’s on, and we
have to use gasoline sparingly.”
“What’s wrong with a bit of rowing?” suggested Brad. “A little exercise
like that would do me good.”
“Wouldn’t do me any harm either,” agreed Mr. Carter. “I sit in my
office so much my muscles are getting flabby.”
“How about asking Hazel?” Kitty suggested. “She’s been wanting to
explore these marshes a long time.”
“A brilliant idea, Kitten!” Her father showed real interest now. “We
can catch the rising tide up into the marshes and come back when it
turns.”
Brad laughed. “That method will certainly be much easier on the
muscles.”
Hazel had the day off and was delighted at the prospect of spending the
afternoon out in the sunshine.
“Tell her I’ll call for her at two-thirty,” Mr. Carter told Kitty as
she phoned.
“That’ll give me half an hour to run up to the hospital,” said Brad.
“There is something I must attend to up there before I leave.”
“Then I’ll have time to pack some sandwiches and cookies, so we can eat
our supper outdoors.”
“Another brilliant idea,” said her father. “We’ll make an afternoon of
it.”
“That will give Jane the whole afternoon off. She needs a rest,” said
Kitty, as she hurried out to the kitchen to see what she could prepare
on such short notice.
There was a long loaf of Bayshore Bakery bread that hadn’t been opened.
While she made chicken sandwiches from dinner left-overs she thought
how strange it seemed to be eating bread from the same bakery as that
eaten by the Nazis off shore. As she worked she wondered also what had
taken Brad back to the hospital.
Her father had already left in his car to bring Hazel from the hospital
when Brad came back and bolted on into the pantry.
“I made a little sketch from that big map,” he told Kitty.
“So that’s what you went for?”
“Thought we might have a chance to look up Terrapin Island while we’re
out,” he said. “Come, let me show you.”
He spread a hasty sketch on the dining-room table.
“I’ve been wondering if Terrapin Island is near the place where they
burn the hospital waste.”
“It’s the very next island, see!” Brad traced with his finger the inlet
that swung southwest around Palmetto Island, and farther south
separated Terrapin Island from its neighbor, which they discovered was
called Mangrove Island.
* * * * *
Two hours later the picnickers came ashore on an island covered with
virgin pines. By subtle suggestions Kitty and Brad had succeeded in
heading their expedition toward the goal they had in mind. Mr. Carter
and Hazel had no particular purpose but to enjoy the sunshine and
bracing air, and so were amenable to suggestions. Kitty and Hazel
insisted on doing their share of the rowing, so the trip was easy for
all.
Billy was hilarious when they climbed up the bank to a deep carpet of
pine needles under the towering trees.
“Oh, Daddy, let’s stay here a long time and play!” he exclaimed.
“We can stay two whole hours before we start back. That’s a very long
time.”
“I never saw such magnificent trees,” said Hazel. Her eyes turned here
and there as if she could not take in enough of the beauty.
“And smell the fragrance of the sun on the pine needles,” said Kitty.
“A wise old Hindu told me once that man can gain renewed vitality in a
pine grove quicker than anywhere else,” Mr. Carter told them.
“Then anybody ought to live forever here,” said Brad.
None of them had ever seen such a virgin forest. There was very little
underbrush, just the towering pines rising from their thick carpet of
brown needles, their green tops nodding against a blue sky, with a
sweet sighing in the gentle breeze.
“This carpet of brown needles doesn’t look as though a human foot had
been set here for half a century,” remarked Kitty.
“They’re protected from the sea winds by that island to the east,” said
Mr. Carter. As he glanced that way his expression changed. “I do
believe we’ve landed behind the island where they burn the hospital
refuse.”
Brad glanced at Kitty, but neither admitted that this was where they
wanted to land. Billy picked up a branch for a gun and began to play
Indian.
“Do you think this is really Terrapin Island?” Kitty asked in a low
tone when she and Brad strolled off toward the eastern shore.
He took out his little map, and they studied it.
“Can’t be any other,” he said. “There’re smoke smudges yonder. Must be
the dump heap. We’re directly west of it.”
“But there’s no sign of a hog range here.”
“The map indicates it’s a rather large island compared with many others
round here. The hogs may be at the other end. These islands are often
broken up by low lands that fill at high tide.”
“Brad, do you suppose this Beeson could be helping get stuff to the
German subs, too?”
“It all looks very suspicious to me, Kit. Here he is living right next
to where the dump is. We have every reason to doubt Punaro’s loyalty.
He’s obliged to have dealings with this hog raiser when he comes to get
the stuff from the galley. You can’t help judging people by those
they’re closely associated with.”
Billy trailed after them as they picked their way along the eastern
shore to the island. On this side there was a low bluff. Kitty glanced
back to note that her father and Hazel were sitting under a pine in
sight of their boat. She and Brad continued tramping down the eastern
shore. When they had gone about a half mile they saw an old negro
fishing from the bluff. On stiff-jointed knees he got to his feet as
they approached.