“How recently?” Harry asked, not questioning how he knew. Joe was known as an excellent tracker.
“Within twenty-four hours. Bushes disturbed. Nothing cut.”
“Someone who didn’t want anyone to know they were here.” Silas said what all three of them were thinking and his companions nodded.
“Follow me,” Joe said, moving into the heavy brush. “Old path. Hard to follow.”
After nearly an hour of trudging through the brush of a path only Joe had knowledge of, he stopped. “Now, we go up about ten feet.”
“Up?” Silas echoed.
“And I’m guessing after that it’s all downhill, right?” Harry said as they went up a low slope. “And then we need the flashlights.”
Just as the ground beneath their feet levelled out, Joe pushed aside the brush, cutting a few branches in the process, and revealed a narrow opening in the side of the hill.
“How far is it down to the cave?” Harry asked.
Joe shrugged. “Never been down there.”
As they paused to drink from their water bottles, Harry said, “Lights on at all times and tread carefully. We don’t want any mishaps.”
Joe took the lead. It was easy going and they settled into a regular pace. Suddenly, Joe stopped. “Lights off,” he said. Harry and Silas turned off their lights and stayed quiet, not knowing if Joe had heard something. “I hear water,” he said.
Harry checked his watch. “Fifty minutes, not bad.” They could all hear the sounds now, like ocean waves washing up on the shore. As their eyes adjusted, they realized it was no longer completely dark, there seemed to be a very faint light ahead. “We might not be too far from the bottom,” he added.
“Not far,” Silas agreed. “I can smell salt water.”
“Me too,” Joe said.
“You two must have noses like bloodhounds,” Harry grumbled. “I can’t smell anything.”
Joe gave a hoot of laughter. “Your loss. Let’s go.”
Twenty minutes later, they stopped in their tracks and surveyed the scene before them. The cave was about fifteen feet in diameter and just in front of them was a sandy beach, sprinkled with rocks. The seaside entrance was high enough above water to admit plenty of light. But it was easy to see why boats could not enter. Across the entrance was a barrier of jagged rock peaks, about eight to twelve inches above the surface.
“Picnic on the beach.” Joe was the first to break the silence as he sat down on the sand and opened his backpack. The others joined him.
“I don’t think our theory of rum-runners is the explanation,” Silas said quietly.
“Not drug smugglers either,” Harry agreed. “Too risky to try getting in through there.”
“Poachers,” said Joe and the other two looked at him. Joe pointed to the right. There was a stake sticking up out of the sand with a rope tied to it down close to the bottom. “At least one lobster pot, maybe several.”
“Now that never crossed my mind,” Silas said.
