Copyright 1968 by Carl L. Biemiller
Published by Doubleday & Company, Inc., Garden City, NY
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number 68-25597

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Kent was thoughtful. "May I use that phone to talk to my father?" he asked Dr. Castle.

"Sure. Give me your number and I'll put the call in for you. No mystery about it, though. Just ask for the marine operator and give her your boat number and identification."

Dad's voice was tinny, but warm as always, as Kent explained that he had heard the news about the big prize offer. Dad knew all about it. He asked Kent about shark fishing and Kent told him all about the hammerhead. Dad said that he'd meet him at the dock when the Dolphin got back. Dad said there was a lot of confusion and that the advertising agency which represented the brewery and some of the New Jersey State people had invited a lot of newspapermen to meet the boat.

"This time I guess we have to talk to them," said Dad. "Unless you have a better idea."

"I might have an idea at that," said Kent. "I might have a couple of ideas."

Kent said goodbye to Dad and thanked Dr. Castle for the call.

Dr. Castle nodded. "I'm trying to decide whether to go back and hack at my white shark or wait until I get it into the Lab. Already I've decided against hacking. It'll keep until I'm ready. You wouldn't want a glass of milk, would you?"

"I would," said Leo.

The cook was snappish when they reached the galley. He had already chased the coffee drinkers to the upper decks. He chased Dr. Castle and Leo and Kent, too, after giving them milk. "I am going to have a mighty fine dinner around here in another hour or so. It will not cook itself. I personally have to cook it. Beat it. I don't fish while you are fishing. I don't need any extra hands when I am cooking."

The after work deck looked like a camp meeting. The college men, Dr. Castle's assistant, three of the crew and an engine-room hand were talking. They were discussing an albino bluefish worth $250,000. Plus $1000.

"I'll bet they ran that offer through a computer," said one of the college men. "The odds probably came up about fifty million to one against any individual bluefish among all the millions in the sea ever being caught, especially an albino, a fish never before heard of, much less caught twice."

"They are thinking about making beer sales to some eight million salt-water fishermen, and making about four million new fishermen to sell more beer," added the engine-room hand.

"There will be more beer cans at sea than fish. Maybe enough to build a new artificial reef for fish to use, and make more fish for more beer drinkers," contributed another college man.

"There is something rare and exciting about their idea," mused Leo. "That's because the albino blue itself is so rare and exciting. But there ought to be a way to turn the search around and make it, I don't know, sort of useful."

A little flicker of excitement tingled at the base of Kent's spine. He did have an idea. It might be a whopper of an idea. He would see how Dad felt about it. He would see how Leo felt about it, and although he hesitated, maybe Dr. Castle. He made up his mind.

"May I speak to you alone, sir?" he asked Dr. Castle. He plunked a finger into Leo's ribs. "You, too."

They went below, down the hatch steps to the forecastle, and sat on bunks. Kent explained his idea. It was a beautifully simple one. It was one that straightened out his own mind and made him happier with himself. But would it work? After all, he was dealing with adult types.

"My, my," said Dr. Castle, "And yes. What do I have to lose except my job? But this thing will have to be done exactly right."

Leo looked like an elf cramming for a mischief examination.

"There'll be a lot of fuss at the dock," he said. "You saw all those first newspaper stories, and the brewery's advertising people will make more hoopdoodle. Maybe they'll want you for a big TV show. That would be a nice place to tell your idea. But I wouldn't tell right at first. See what your father says. He's a lawyer. He might have another idea."

"Dad will be waiting when we get in," said Kent, "but, if there's funny stuff, I might not get a chance to talk to him, really talk, that is."

"There will be people. Oh, my yes, people. The State didn't send that helicopter out for nothing. After all, Dr. Vernon and John Colin doubtless told the State publicity people you were aboard. They had to do it. But the State fellows probably see nine jillion tourists all arriving to fish," mused Dr. Castle.

"Ouuwha! How would you like to be me?" Kent asked Leo.

Leo was not a Harvard man for nothing. "With a little help, I could be when we get in. I don't think anybody's thought about the fact that there are two kids aboard when they only have one in mind. Take off over the bow when we get in, find your dad, make arrangements."

"Marine biology is very uncertain work," said Dr. Castle. "I think we'll get your father back on the phone. You can tell him your idea. You can tell him...mmmmhmmhm...it may be almost dark when we get in."

Dr. Castle and Leo listened as Kent spoke to his father. They raised eyebrows in question when he finished.

"He says that there may be some noses out of joint, but none in the Palmer family," reported Kent. "He hopes for good things."

The Dolphin coasted through a pale mirror of sea in the endless light of late afternoon with what could only be considered measured haste. The cook served roast beef, green beans and corn from cans, oven-brown potatoes, two kinds of gravies, one thick, one thin, apple pie and crumbly, rat cheese. He beamed upon the boat's appetites, a steamy, blessed man in an undershirt. Table talk was sparse, and mostly sometimes.

"It is my opinion," said one of the college men, "that if the brewery figures it never has to pay off, it should have offered a million dollars. I like a round, fat sum."

"We should have named the hammerhead babies," said another. "I think there is something unfeeling about them swimming around with just a Lab number. Hannah, Hester, Hebe, Hortense, Hilda, Hepziba, Helen Hammerhead."

"You are a knucklehead," said Leo.

It was coming dusk when the Dolphin slipped into Sandy Hook Bay and butted her way to dock. The July evening was tawny and rose above the Highlands whose tree-green knees were dark with approaching night. The captain, with some change in his usual mooring routine, put the Dolphin in bow first.

There were lights on the pier-side and people, many more than the usual none which greeted most working vessel returns. There were men with cameras. The captain watched them from his bridge as he eased the boat to dock much as he would eye a pirate boarding party. The crew made fast the mooring lines and joined Dr. Castle and his scientists on the work-deck aft. All of the crew seemed to be on the after deck, and in their midst was a dancing Leo looking more pint sized than ever.

On the bow was Kent, huddled by the windshield of the bridge. As the men on the pier pushed aboard and made their way to the after deck, he dropped to the boat's catwalk to the pier-side ladder and to the dock. No one paid him any attention. He could hear Leo's shrill voice piping.

"Here I am. Here I am," screeched Leo.

Kent felt his inside grin. There Leo was, indeed, and telling a loud truth. Kent jogged across the pier to the little dockside walk where the Bluefish bobbed, up the walk to the Coast Guard dock, and into the road. Dad's car was parked just past the Coast Guard and Dad was in it. Kent opened the car door and slipped into the front seat.

"Hi," he said.

"And hi to you, young man," spoke a voice from the back seat. It was Dr. Vernon.

"Good evening, sir," said Kent, and he couldn't keep the surprise from his voice.

Dad banged him on the knee and laughed.

"We're going home to talk things over," he said. "Dr. Vernon is going with us."

"And Dr. Vernon is leaving the press, the agents of the State, several beer men and assorted advertising people behind him," recited Dr. Vernon genially.

"Dr. Vernon is a sound man," said Dad. "Like you, Kent."