t the blast was now coming down the creek,
swinging the houseboat around. That probably was why the anchor had
shifted. He knelt and took the line in his fingers. It no longer seemed
to be slipping, but it was better not to take a chance. He unloosed the
half hitches that held it to the cleat, threw off all but one
figure-eight turn, and let the anchor line run out slowly. When he
estimated about fifty feet had run through, he put on more figure eights
around the cleat, then dropped half hitches over to secure the line.
Once more he reached out and held the taut line. It didn't seem to be
slipping. He pulled on it hard, and felt the boat move. The anchor was
in solidly this time.

Rick turned and started back to the catwalk, rain lashing his back.
Sudden instinct made him whirl around in time to see something huge and
black rushing at him out of the storm. Rain blurred his vision. He had a
swift impression of a black figure, shaped like a diamond, coming at
him. He threw himself flat on the foredeck. There was a rustling sound
overhead, and something clanged off the cabin top's aluminum rail. Rick
was on his feet again. Heart pounding, he looked around. There was
nothing but rain and wind. He stood upright and looked across the cabin
top. For an instant he glimpsed a black object above the canopy over the
rear cockpit, then that, too, was lost in the rain.

Shaken, Rick made his way back to the cabin, entered, closed the door,
and leaned against it. Scotty looked up, and was on his feet in an
instant.

[Illustration (2 page 29 and 30)]

"Rick! What happened? You're white as a sheet!" he exclaimed.

"Saw one," Rick managed. He was still shaking. "It went right over the
boat. I think it hit the upper rail. We'll check later. But it wasn't a
flying saucer. I'm sure of that."

"What was it?" Scotty demanded.

"A flying stingaree!"

CHAPTER III

Orvil Harris, Crabber

Rick Brant awoke to the sound of a motor. For a moment he lay quietly in
his bunk, listening. The sun through the cabin windows told him it was
early in the morning. The sunlight still had the red quality of early
sunrise. He watched the light shift as the houseboat swung on its
anchor.

By the time the storm last night had ended, darkness had set in, and it
was only sensible to turn on the anchor light and remain in the Swamp
Creek cove for the night. In spite of his unsettling experience, Rick
and Scotty had not been deeply disturbed. N