Smugglers! by Karen King Page A

all the stuff that had happened and I tossed and turned for ages. I’d just managed to drop off when my cellphone rang. I took it from under my pillow and checked the screen. Max. I looked at the time. One thirty. What was he doing awake at this time of night, never mind phoning me? I answered it. ‘This had better be good.’
    ‘Look out the window; there’s a light flashing.’
    ‘What?’ I scrambled out of bed and dashed over to the window. Sure enough, there was a light flashing from the direction of the beach, just like I’d seen on Sunday night. And, at exactly the same time too! It was the smuggler again!
    ‘I’m going down to investigate,’ I said, reaching out to grab my jeans from the chair beside my bed.
    ‘I’m coming too …’
    ‘NO YOU ARE NOT!’ I shouted down the phone, before realising I didn’t want to wake Gran and Mr Winkleberry up again. ‘You stay here. You’re just a kid. You hear me?’ I whispered.
    ‘But …’
    ‘No buts. I’ve got enough to deal with trying to catch the smugglers, never mind watching over you. Besides, I need you here. If you don’t hear from me within an hour, you call the police and tell them what’s happened. Got it?’
    ‘Okay.’ He didn’t sound too pleased. ‘You be careful, right?’
    ‘I will.’
    I pulled on my black jeans, then reached for a black hoody. It was always chilly at night and the hood would come in useful if I needed to disguise myself (and black would mean I wouldn’t get spotted easily). I crept down the stairs and went out of the front door, closing it quietly behind me.
    The street was deserted. I heard a tap as I passed Max’s house and glanced up to see him waving out of his bedroom window at me. I waved back, then hurried down the hill towards the beach.
    I was nervous. No use pretending I wasn’t. I was on my own against a bunch of smugglers. I wasn’t planning on playing the hero though – I had my cellphone, my micro-recorder and a penlight. All I wanted to do was get enough evidence to nail them and then come home. I could show all the evidence to PC Lambard tomorrow, and he could arrest the smuggler. Or smugglers.
    A gang of youths were gathered around the harbour, drinking out of bottles. They didn’t seem to have noticed me, so I pulled my hood up, kept to the other side of the road and hurried past without glancing at them. My pulse was racing. I must be mad coming out alone at this time of night. I hadn’t really stopped to consider the danger. Thank goodness I’d insisted that Max didn’t come with me.
    Luckily, I reached Smugglers’ Bay without any incident. I peered over the wall at the beach below. The almost full moon and scattering of stars in the sky provided enough light for me to see that it was deserted. Smugglers’ Bay wasn’t visible from up here, of course, but I could make out the shape of a big boat floating out at sea around the bay area. It didn’t seem to be going anywhere in a hurry. I wondered if it was the smugglers.
    I carefully descended the broken stone steps, glad that I was wearing black so I wouldn’t be visible from the boat, and then ran across the sand to the secret cove, keeping close to the rocks for cover. When the rocks got small enough I peeped over to see if anyone was there and had to put a hand over my mouth to stop myself from gasping out loud. A rowing boat was moored on the sand, and a shadowy figure was taking crates out of the boat, while two others were carrying crates over to the cave.
    Smugglers!
    I watched as the figures came back out of the cave empty-handed, got into the small boat and rowed over to the big boat out at sea. I guessed they’d hidden the crates in the secret cave, ready for the Little Cragg smuggler to collect. It had to be Sid the Sniff. He’d said he was getting more supplies this weekend. Would he climb down through the manhole on the cliffs, I wondered, or come down to the beach to collect the goods? I figured he would probably use the