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."

"I wonder if he'll ever see any flying stingarees come out of the
creek."

Rick shook his head. "Most of the sightings are in the late morning or
late afternoon. Only a couple were around dawn."

While the houseboat moved across the Little Choptank, Scotty checked the
tide tables. He reported that the tide was coming in. It was about one
hour from high tide. Rick had been studying the chart. "No problem," he
said. "Mean low water averages four feet in the cove, with seven feet in
the middle. Think your stake will be long enough?"

Scotty had placed the sapling with its winding of rope on the cabin top.
He estimated its length again. "Depends on how deep the mud is. If it's
more than three feet, the top of the stake will be under water."

"Three feet is a lot of mud," Rick said. "It's likely a lot less than
that."

He turned into the creek mouth, throttling back. It would be hard to
anchor precisely where the houseboat had been anchored that first night,
but he was sure they could find the spot within twenty feet. Scotty went
up on the bow and got the anchor ready.

"Use about thirty feet of line," Rick called. He took the houseboat to
the exact center of the cove, as closely as he could estimate, then put
the motors in reverse to kill the speed. When it fell t