Angry black storm clouds swept far to the roar of the Consolidated Catalina flying boat. Brilliant sunshine bathed the craft in its warm glow from the hull nose clear back to the tail, and from wingtip to wingtip. Below and just ahead heaving seas caused by the passing storm were slowly subsiding. Patches of white foam were fast disappearing; dissolving into thin air under the steady rays of the sun.
"It should be soon, Dave," Freddy presently broke the silence in a strained voice. "And if it isn't, I swear I'll blessed well blow my topper!"
"Keep your shirt on, pal," Dave grunted good-naturedly. "We can travel plenty fast, remember. That raider is in the water, not in the air with wings. It'll take time for her to get clear. How about trying a check on her?"
"I did just a moment ago," the English youth replied. "The signals were clear as a bell. She's traveling under forced draft, and her commander begged me not to lose touch with the convoy. He also wanted to know if British navy boats and aircraft were escorting the convoy."
"And you told him?" Dave murmured.
"Same as the first message I tried to get through to him, of course," Freddy said in a slightly hurt tone. "No escorting aircraft as yet, as the convoy hasn't reached the rendezvous point. And that there're only two Corvettes leading the merchant ships."
"Beautiful, if he only swallows it, which I guess he's done," Dave said with a chuckle. "Boy, what a nice surprise that guy's going to get! He figures that he's going to sneak up on the unprotected rear of that convoy and go through it like hot coals through snow. Instead, though, he's going to plow right into a mess of screaming shells from British navy guns, and depth charges, and bombs, and everything else. If only they can ring those U-boats before they duck down deep and skip away."
"The boys of the Fleet Air Arm will take care of that," Freddy said confidently. "They'll be up aloft, and they'll spot the raider long before she spots them. They'll give the range to the gunners on the ships, and then dive bomb the U-boats before they hardly have time to stick their noses under."
"Well, you sure make it listen good," Dave grinned. "And I'm keeping my fingers crossed that you're right.Eureka!Pay me the five pounds, Freddy! Look off down there. Just to the left of that patch of cloud scud. It's a ship. It's our raider, Freddy! See? See? Her U-boats are all on the surface. See those globs of grey in fan shape formation a quarter of a mile astern of her. Freddy! That's her, and no kidding about it!"
The English youth didn't utter a sound. He hunched forward and sighted along Dave's trembling pointed finger. Then he saw her, too. Saw the wolf-pack of U-boats running at top speed on the surface astern of the raider. Smoke from the raider's single funnel was streaming back low over the stern of the craft. A clear indication that she was getting every ounce of drive out of her propellers. She was low in the water and rather than ride up over each roller, her sharp bow cut through it like a knife and sent sheets of frothing water mounting high over her forecastle. A ship of speed, and deadly fighting power, yet ugly and repulsive looking even though you did not know of the mission of murdering destruction on which she was bent.
"And there you are, you dirty sea rat!" Dave grated through clenched teeth. "Think you're on your way to hurt England, eh? Well, you've got another...."
Crack!
The bark of the gun was like the world exploding apart to Dave and Freddy. And even as the sharp sound came to their ears they both saw the tiny hole and mass of cracks that appeared as though by magic in the forward window. For a brief instant they both stared at it as though hypnotized. Then as one man they whirled around in their seats and gaped aft.
If the bark of a gun and a bullet hole in the forward window surprised them, then sight of the figure clutching the gun stunned them completely. He wore the uniform of an R.A.F. Flying Officer, but the uniform was splotched with dirt, and grease, and oil. He wore no cap and his hair dangled down over his forehead. On the right cheek of his not too bad looking face was an ugly gash that ran straight up and down. A few tiny drops of blood seeped out the lower end and dribbled down to the line of his jaw and dropped off to stain the front of his tunic. Apparently he had stowed away in an aft compartment of the plane.
Ten thousand exclamations surged up to Dave's lips but for the life of him he could not speak a word. His throat was bone dry, and his tongue was as big as a baseball bat in his mouth. It was the same with Freddy Farmer, and it seemed almost to be the same with the man holding the gun, for he said not a word either. He simply stood braced on the cat-walk leading aft, a cruel twist to his lips, a burning look of hatred in his eyes, and the Luger in his hand held rock steady and unwavering.
And then sound exploded from Dave Dawson's lips.
"Baron von Khole!" he cried.
The man with the gun stiffened slightly. Startled surprise and annoyance flashed across his face. Then suddenly he relaxed, smiled tight lipped, and made a short little bow from the waist.
"But, of course," he said in perfect English, as though talking to himself. "That swine, Manners, must have spoken to you. Anyway, you are correct, my young friend. I don't mind admitting it,now!"
"And we first met you as Steffins!" Freddy cried as he suddenly found his own tongue.
The German agent flecked a glance at the English youth and nodded faintly.
"Splendid!" he said with a chuckle. "You two children really aren't fools, are you? You have brains, and you use them. Yes, that is true. I met you as Steffins."
"Steffins, the yellow belly!" Dave blurted out before he could cut off the words.
A cold deadly look leaped into the Nazi's eyes, and his finger crooked about the Luger's trigger seemed to tighten a hair.
"You are asking for death sooner than I had planned it, little boy!" he spat out harshly. "No one who desires to live even for a minute should call me a coward. That little affair on the train was as I planned it."
"And the strafing plane was some kind of a signal for you, too, wasn't it?" Dave shot out the question.
"Donder and Blitzen!" the German exclaimed in a whisper. "It is too bad you do not belong to German Intelligence. Yes, we could make good use of you. It was a signal, yes. And you can probably guess why. That doddering fool, Manners, has probably told you the whole story."
"I know what you mean!" Freddy cried. "That rotten business you were doing in London. The diving plane was a signal that your hide-out in London had been found, and that they were after you!"
"My, my, never have I met such clever little boys!" von Khole said with a marked sneer. "However, that's just about correct. It was a warning. So that is why I did not report to Squadron Seventy-Four. But it wasn't necessary, anyway.Don't, my young Dawson! Don't be a foolish child and think you can move faster than I can shoot!"
Dave had moved slightly in his seat, but he froze stiff as the Nazi's gun muzzle bored straight at a point between his eyes. A smarting retort rose to his lips, but common sense made him choke it back. So long as they kept the German talking, so long would they have the chance to do something about their predicament.Predicament?That was indeed putting it mildly. Not since that day in war blasted France when he and Freddy had first met had they been in such a tight corner as now.[3]And never had death been so close and so certain. No, their only hope was to stall for time. For while there is time there is hope, and while there is hope there is life.
"So you didn't report to Plymouth Base, eh?" he murmured and forced a puzzled note into his voice. "Then how in the world were you able to steal that Fairey Swordfish plane and follow us down to that rendezvous area for the raider and her wolf-pack of U-boats? You sure must have taken plenty of chances."
"Yes, you certainly must have!" Freddy cried eagerly and twitched in his seat. "Ouch, my elbow! But tell us, von Khole. How in the world did you manage that?"
The German's eyes narrowed with suspicion, but when he saw the eager and excited looks on the boys' faces he relaxed and smirked in triumph. He drew himself up straight but didn't take the gun off them for a single instant.
"There is nothing too difficult for Baron von Khole!" he cried in a loud voice and thumped his chest with his free hand. "It was nothing, that little bit at Plymouth. It was so simple. I merely made myself up as a mechanic and walked in through the main gates and past the stupid guards. A question here and there, and I learned of a plane that was going to be tested. I hid in the hangar and took care of the pilot when he arrived! I saw you two little ones take off. Of course I already knew the contents of your sealed orders, and I had made arrangements for the raider and her U-boats to be elsewhere. However, I had decided that Manners should be made to realize what a fool he was to think he could outwit us Germans. So I arranged for one U-boat to remain. A single U-boat to remain and sink the very first British warship that came to the spot. And so...."
"And so that idea fell flat," Dave interrupted with a grim nod.
Von Khole shrugged.
"You were lucky," he grunted. "And the U-boat's commander was a fool to come to the surface before you were in the water. But it does not matter, now. Your precious Air Marshal Manners knows what a fool he made of himself. And by the by, you two owe me your thanks. I could have killed you very easily, you know. But we Germans do not like to make war on mere boys ... unless we are forced to."
The deadly undernote of the last sent a chill cutting straight through Dave's heart. Von Khole didn't have to write him a letter to explain that the moment to "make war on mere boys"had now arrived!
He covered up his inner feelings however with a beautiful Bronx cheer.
"Says you, von Khole!" he jeered. "You owe us that kind of a vote of thanks. I had you in my sights cold, and you know darn well I did. I could have shot the pants right off you, and with both eyes shut, too."
"And you didn't?" the German echoed in mock surprise. "How strange! Or perhaps it was that your guns jammed at that very crucial moment, eh? I have heard that sort of explanation many times."
"It was my fault!" Freddy Farmer blurted out, and moved some more in his seat. "I was the one who stopped him. And I was a blasted fool for doing it, I can tell you. Rubbish to what you think! Dawson could have shot you down as easy as pie."
Von Khole nodded his head in mock patience.
"Well, well, what a shame!" he sighed. "And what a shame, my young Dawson, we'll never have another chance to see who is the better pilot. Yes, too bad, but one cannot expect everything in war, you know."
As the Nazi finished the last he leaned forward slightly and shot a quick glance down over the bow of the hull. Regardless of orders not to move, Dave turned his head and took a look himself. His heart leaped up into his throat when he saw that the raider had altered her course, and with her wolf-pack of U-boats in tow was steaming at full draftdue north! He turned back and shot a quizzical look at von Khole. The German accepted the look with a smile and a nod.
"Yes, your little game is over, my young ones," he said. "There is work, great work for that raider to perform, and so she is hurrying on her way."
"What's that?" Freddy cried and spun front in his own seat to look. "Good grief, it can't be! What made that raider change her course? She headed directly for...!"
The English youth choked himself off and turned back to stare wide eyed at von Khole. The Nazi laughed out loud at the horror and misery on Freddy's face.
"Did you think this was the only airplane in the world?" he cried in a taunting voice. "Do you think all German pilots are asleep?Himmel!What fools to even hope you could be successful! What dunces to even think you could outwit me, Baron von Khole. Mere children! Bah!"
The Nazi agent made as though to spit as he spoke the last, and his whole face flamed red with withering scorn and contempt. A thousand cannons began booming in Dave's brain. He trembled from head to foot with the furious desire to leap at von Khole, and the heck with the Luger pointed his way. But with all his raging fury he still retained his common sense. And so he stayed right where he was.
"I get it," he said suddenly. "Your scouting planes have known the raider's position all along, huh?"
"But naturally," the German said. "And the way that ship is now headed means thatour aircraft have sighted your precious convoy and have communicated its position to the raider! True, you contacted her first. I suspected that you probably would, but I didn't care. I decided to wait until you had actually sighted her and then put an end to your little game. From this moment on she will receive the true location and course of the convoy. She will close in and strike at the proper moment. The raider, her U-boats, and our long range bombers. It will be a great victory for Der Fuehrer, and a crushing blow to your doomed England.Himmel!Do you think I would have stayed hidden aboard this flying boat listening to you two children jabber about the British Fleet units and the wonderful things they were going to do, if I did not know for certain that this moment of triumph would arrive? But of course not. I only wish I could see the face of your naval ship commanders as they waitand waitfor a raider to come sailing into their gun range. A raider that will be hundreds of miles away, and her work well done, before they even start combing the ocean!"
The Nazi was almost screaming by the time he finally came to a pause. Dave, looking at his flushed face, spittle drooling mouth, and popping eyes, knew that he was not looking at just one man but at a living symbol of the whole rotten to the core Nazi breed. Just as Air Marshal Manners had said, "Clever, cunning, and a genius at his work, but a black hearted, ruthless murderer."
"Your raider will not even get in sight of that convoy!" Freddy cried, his face white and strained. "It's well guarded. I can assure you of that."
"Now, can you, my little fellow?" von Khole sneered at him. "You are completely wrong. Perhaps you do not know it, but youare! Until the rendezvous point is reached, only two Corvettes are guarding that convoy. That is another stupid blunder on the part of your willy-nilly superiors. They decided to let the convoy come across with but two Corvettes to protect her until close off shore, instead of sending out naval ships to a rendezvous far at sea. But, no. They decided to spread their navy ships about the ocean and trap our powerful raider and her U-boats. Clever, they thought. Fool the Germans completely. Ah, yes! They thought it was a wonderful idea. Well, you see what a wonderful idea it turned out to be? Long before the convoy reaches the rendezvous point with your Catalinas and your destroyers it will be at the bottom of the Atlantic. Every ship.All of them!"
For a second Dave thought Freddy was going to hurl himself right out of the seat and lunge for the Nazi's throat. Instead, the English youth suddenly threw back his head and roared with laughter. Von Khole's face went dark, a scowl creased his brows, and a puzzled glint came into his eyes.
"So, you laugh when your countrymen are about to die?" he snarled as Freddy subsided a little.
"Mycountrymen die?" Freddy shot at him. "Why, you balmy Jerry, if they do, it will be from laughing. Laughing at you, and your blessed Fuehrer, at the whole lot of you silly Nazis. Shall we tell him, Dave?"
Freddy looked at Dave and winked the eye turned away from von Khole. Dave had no idea what the act was about, but he played up to it instantly. He shrugged and made a little gesture with his hands.
"Why bother?" he grunted. "Let him find out for himself."
Freddy pursed his lips, half turned and gave von Khole an accusing look.
"I say, let's stop playing with this stupid game," Freddy said. "I jolly well fancy you know all about it. Good grief, man, youmustknow if you're as clever as they say you are."
"I think you are talking in riddles," the Nazi said in a wary tone. "And I do not like riddles. What is this interesting thing you feel positive I should know?"
Freddy gave an exasperated shake of his head.
"The convoy, of course!" he snapped. "Its arrival! What else, my dear fellow?"
"Arrival?" von Khole echoed in a harsh voice.
"Certainly!" Freddy snapped at him again. "It docked at English ports early last night. All this business is simply an attempt to remove your wonder raider and her school of tin fish out of this blasted war once and for all."
"You little lying swine!" the German hissed as his eyes clouded up with thunder heads of berserk rage. "Do you think I'd believe that for an instant? No, my little boy. Your precious convoy has not made port, yet. And it never will! I can see that you have learned some things from your American friend, Dawson, here. He has taught you how to bluff. But I am one you cannot bluff."
"Okay, have it your way," Dave said, catching on to Freddy's effort to stall for time, and keep stalling. "You know your own codes, don't you? Your aircraft codes?"
"But naturally," the German said. "What of it?"
Dave lifted his hand enough to indicate the main radio fitted to its panel in front of Freddy Farmer's seat.
"Then get to work on that thing, and check," Dave said in a defiant tone. "Call your scouting aircraft and find out if they've spotted a big convoy. Yes, I saidbigconvoy. Go on! Contact them and find out how many ships there are in the convoyyou thinkthat raider's headed toward. Go on, I dare you!"
Baron von Khole raked Dave's face with his eyes as though he were attempting to look right into the brain and read the truth there. Dave returned his stare and grinned a challenge.
"Farmer and I know that we're all washed up, von Khole," he said. "You beat us to the punch before we could guide the raider to within range of the British warships. Okay, you win that one. But if you think there's any big convoy waiting to be picked off, you're all wet. And I mean, all wet!"
The German continued to glare at them out of half closed eyes, and Dave kept the taunting grin on his face though his heart was pounding like a trip hammer against his ribs. Perhaps von Khole's next move would be the break that he and Freddy needed so desperately. If the German took up the challenge and bent forward to take the head phones from Freddy and use the radio the movement would bring him close. Please, God, close enough to make a wild grab for that Luger. It was their only chance. To overpower von Khole and get back on the job. The raider and her U-boats were moving northward fast. She had to be stopped. Shehadto be stopped! Please, God, make von Khole move closer ... move just a couple of feet closer!
One, two, three seconds ticked by as Dave kept his eyes locked with von Khole's. A conglomeration of expressions flitted across the man's face. Four, five, six seconds! Anger, wonder, suspicion, and scorn showed in the German's face. He made as though to move, checked himself, and remained where he was. Seven, eight, nine seconds!
And then Dave wanted to weep with rage. Von Khole smiled and shook his head.
"No, my little fools!" he said with a dry chuckle. "I am not as stupid as that. You would like to grab for this gun, eh, as I reached for the radio? Bah! I can see the desire in your faces. But that is not why I know you lie. You, my little Farmer! Your bluff was almost convincing. Perhaps it even would have convinced me if you had not made that slip of the tongue when you first saw that the raider was heading north. Ah, yes! You were about to say she was heading directly for the convoy, when you cut yourself off. Your radio? I shall have plenty of time to use it later. Right now it amuses me to see the misery and the defeat in your faces."
As the German stopped talking a strange sensation began to ripple through Dave. It was as though something were definitely wrong with the picture. It was as though von Khole were hesitating for some mysterious reason. As though he wanted to act but couldn't make up his mind whether to act or not. Dave knew that the Nazi intended to rid himself of them both. He was positive that von Khole had a bullet for each of them in that Luger held steady in his hand. Yet the man seemed in no hurry to shoot. Instead he was waiting. Why? Waiting for what? Dave stared hard at the Nazi's face but there was absolutely nothing there to give him an inkling of what was going on in the brain behind it.
Suddenly Dave thought of the two shots that had been fired in the dark back at the Lands End Base. Two shots that sounded as though they had come from a rifle fitted with a silencer. Had that been the case, or had shooting across water given him that impression? And, also, he and Freddy had found the hull door of the Catalina swung wide open. A split second later he was sure he knew the truth about that incident.
"You fired those shots at us from the mooring basin!" he blurted out. "You were already in this flying boat, and you fired from inside through the open hull door so that the flash would not be seen ashore!"
"Splendid, splendid!" von Khole cried. Then with an annoyed toss of his head, "And I am ashamed of myself. I am a perfect shot, but I was not last night. I missed you both completely. However, the darkness made accurate shooting impossible. Too bad I missed. It would have been quite a shock for your wonderful Air Marshal Manners to find you two dead, and this Catalina flying boat stolenanyway!"
"You certainly don't like that guy, do you?" Dave said to keep the Nazi talking.
"The swine has caused me much trouble!" von Khole bit off savagely. "But I will have plenty of time to deal with him when this little affair is finished."
As the German spoke the words his eyes left Dave's face for a brief instant and he shot a scowling glance at the radio panel. That glance made Dave's heart loop over. Was the radio the reason why von Khole was hesitating in pulling the Luger's trigger, and waiting? If so, why? Dave wracked his brain for an answer to that one, but there was none to be found.
"How the heck did you know we were going to use this Catalina?" he asked quickly as a sudden look of anger leaped into the Nazi's eyes. "And as far as that goes, how in thunder did you know we were at Lands End Base? Of course you were in that Messerschmitt that tried to trail us?"
"Yes, I was in that plane," von Khole said absently.
"But that was a Nazi plane!" Freddy exclaimed. "And.... Wait! I get it! You flew that Fairey Swordfish to occupied France and returned in a Messerschmitt to trail Air Marshal Manners down from London. You had got word he was heading for Plymouth?"
"Correct!" von Khole snapped. "I am informed of everything as soon as it happens. We intercepted your aircraft carrier's message to Manners saying that you two had been picked up. I decided to remove the real menace to my future plans, Air Marshal Manners! However, he reached Plymouth before I could meet him in the air. Too bad. However, there is tomorrow, and the next day, and lots of days after that. I have promised myself that Air Marshal Manners shall feel my bullets cutting into his swine hide. And I do not break, a promise to myself!"
"But I lost you cold as we were returning to London!" Dave said with a puzzled frown. "And, Mister, we darn near washed each other out in those clouds. Another foot the wrong way and it would have been curtains for the lot of us. Parachutes wouldn't have done any of us any good with those two ships smacking each other at that speed. But it wasn't untilafterthat that Manners ordered me to head for Lands End. I said you maybe had cat's eyes, and you certainly must have had them then. Did you actually trail us to Lands End Base?"
The sudden beam of vanity that lighted up von Khole's face sent a warm glow of new hope surging through Dave. If he could only keep the Nazi talking for a little longer. If he only could! A wild, crazy plan had come into his head all of a sudden. There was just about one chance in six billion that he could carry it out successfully. But the odds against him didn't matter. It was a chance, and that was the all important thing. But he must keep von Khole talking on. Praise the dirty rat. Flatter him! Do anything just to keep him talking!
"No kidding?" Dave pressed his question in an awed tone. "Did you really and truly trail us down to Lands End Base?"
The German laughed softly and shook his head and gestured with his free hand, palm upward.
"No, because I didn't have to," he said. "I have brains, and so I simply used them. I realized that Manners must know I was in the Messerschmitt. I realized that he would of course change his course, and not head for London. Then where would he head? Back to Plymouth? No. Then where? It was obvious that he would head for another Coastal Command Base. That he would head in the opposite direction from London. And that would be? Toward Southampton, of course. So I flew in that direction, myself, and circled about until I saw your plane. And when I saw that you were heading west, the answer was simple. Where else but Lands End? So I went to Lands End, myself!"
"In a Nazi Messerschmitt?" Freddy Farmer gasped before he could check himself.
Von Khole gave him a reproachful look, and shook his head sadly from side to side.
"You stupid English!" he groaned. "You do not have the imagination of a fly. But of course not. I stayed in the clouds for a bit longer and worked back over land between Southampton and Lands End. Then I pointed my plane northward with the controls set for level flight, and jumped with my parachute. By the time I reached earth the Messerschmitt was many miles away. And a time bomb in it eventually blew it into a million pieces so that it would never be recognized for what it really was. Soldiers rushed me when I landed, but of course I carry identification papers that nobody would ever question. I told them that my plane had caught fire in the air and that I had been forced to jump. I even told them I was on a special courier mission, and...."
The German paused to laugh heartily.
"What stupid swine, the English!" he cried. "Be polite, be the gentleman, and they will believe anything you say. The soldiers took me to their commanding officer where I repeated my story. He believed me, also. And he actually loaned me his car in which to continue my journey.Himmel!After the war I shall write a book on the English. It will be the funniest thing ever written. Anyway, I abandoned the car just before I reached Lands End, and made the rest of the way on foot. The field guards saluted me as I walked past them, and that was all there was to it. And now...."
"Not quite all, von Khole," Dave spoke up quickly. "There's still the most mysterious part of it all that I can't figure. I mean, how in heck did you find out that Farmer and I were going to steal this plane? Or maybe you just watched us, and guessed, huh? That sure was a bit of smart guessing, is all I can say."
"Quite!" Freddy echoed. "It's almost unbelievable!"
The Nazi spy snorted in scorn.
"Guess?" he said sharply. "Of course not. I saw Manners talking to you on that strip of sandy beach. I simply listened to what he told you, and learned everything."
"You listened?" Dave cried. "Hey! Don't try to stuff that one down my throat. There wasn't anybody within two hundred yards of us. And don't say that Manners bellowed at us through a megaphone, because that's out, too. What do you mean, listened?"
"Not with my ears, with my eyes, my simple one!" the Nazi clipped at him. "For years I have been an expert lip reader. I hid in the shore grass a good quarter of a mile from where you sat, trained a powerful pair of binoculars on Manners' face and read every word he spoke to you. After that I simply watched you two every instant of the time.Himmel!It was child's play compared to lots of other tasks I have accomplished for my Fatherland."
"Well, I'll be cow-kicked!" Dave breathed in frank admiration. "Lip-read every word Air Marshal spoke! Boy oh boy! Did we have two strikes on us before we even got started!"
"What?" von Khole echoed with a puzzled frown. "Two strikes? You speak of labor trouble in the United States?"
"No," Dave said. Then with a grin, "Brooklyn Dodger trouble when Ernie White of the St. Louis Cards is pitching against them. But skip it. What happened to your face? Did you run into a door that wasn't shut?"
Baron von Khole scowled and impulsively reached up and touched his cut cheek with his free hand. It was not until then that Dave saw that the German had a beautiful goose egg on the left side of his head.
"I can thank you for that!" the German said sharply. "You and this cursed plane that bucks like a wild horse. About two hours after your take-off a movement of the plane hurled me out of my hiding place aft and I struck my head on one of the bracing girders, and a bolt end cut my cheek. But it is nothing."
A glimmer of truth suddenly flashed through Dave's brain.
"Yes, I remember that tough air pocket we smacked into," he said with an understanding nod. "It bounced Farmer and me around plenty, too. It was just before we sighted those signal lights of some craft down on the water."
The German seemed to look blank for the tiniest part of a split second. Then he nodded his head vigorously.
"Yes, it was shortly before then," he said. "But it's nothing. And now, my little boys, we have done enough talking, you and I. There is more for me to do, and unfortunately for you, you are in my way. I cannot waste any more time. What happens, must happen."
Dave looked blank, but his brain was clicking over at lightning like speed. The truth, and he was sure it was the truth, was as clear as high noon in his brain. Yes, he knew, now, why von Khole had hesitated using the Luger, and had waited, casting expectant glances at the radio every now and then. The reason was because the Nazi was worried. Worried about what messages Dave and Freddy had sent and receivedwhile Baron von Khole was out cold from the crack he received on his head. And the manhadbeen knocked unconscious. Dave knew that for a certainty. He knew it, because he had lied about sighting signal lights from a boat below them.There hadn't been any signal lights!They hadn't even sighted a boat!
Yes, von Khole had delayed action because he was worried. Ten to one the man had only gained consciousness when the Catalina was climbing up out of the storm to make eye contact with the raider. He didn't know what had happened during the hours he was unconscious. He knew, of course, that radio contact had been made with the raider, but who else had Freddy contacted over the ether waves? British planes? British Navy ships? The Nazi didn't know. He had no way of knowing. So he had delayed and waited, hoping that the radio might start crackling, and he could snatch the phones from Freddy Farmer and perhaps gain an inkling of what had transpired during his unconscious hours.
However, the radio had remained silent, and the Nazi did not dare wait any longer. Whatever his next move was in his devilish game, he had to get on with it, and soon!
The blood began to pound at Dave's temples, and for one awful instant every muscle and nerve in his body seemed to turn into water. He wanted to look at Freddy, but he didn't dare take his eyes off Baron von Khole's face. Gone was the smirk, the scorn, and the look of delighted triumph from the German's face. It had become set, hard and cruel, and the light of a born killer glowed in his eyes. Dave knew that it was only a matter of split seconds. Perhaps not even that length of time. He tried to speak, but the horrible moment froze his tongue to the roof of his mouth. Then with desperate effort he tore his eyes from von Khole's face and shot a quick glance out the side compartment window.
"Planes coming!" he cried in a hoarse voice.
Von Khole stiffened and half turned his head. In that infinitesimal split second of time Dave Dawson staked his life, Freddy's life, and the success or complete failure of their mission, on a single lightning-like action. With every ounce of his strength he shoved forward the foot he had eased up to rest against the control column of the plane. The mighty effort rammed the column forward, and sent the craft lurching down by the nose. As a result the tail surged upward and the cat-walk practically fell away from under von Khole's feet.
The German half toppled over backwards and then seemed to rise right straight up in the air. A horrible curse of rage spilled from his lips, and the Luger in his hand barked three times. His backward movement however had tilted the gun barrel upward and all three bullets ripped harmlessly through the roof of the compartment. Then the German crashed the top of his head against the strong cross brace girder of the top section of the fuselage. Even above the howl of the engines Dave heard the sickening crunching sound. Baron von Khole's eyes went glassy. Then they closed shut, and he tumbled down on the cat-walk, limp and still as a wet dish rag.
"At him, Freddy!" Dave screamed and hurled himself backward out of his seat.
Dave's cry to Freddy Farmer was just a waste of breath, for the English youth was already out of his seat with all the speed of a bullet leaving the muzzle of a gun. And it was also a waste of effort for either of them to dive down on the limp Baron von Khole. The German was completely unconscious and the deep bleeding cut in the top of his head made by contact with the fuselage girder was proof positive that he would remain unconscious for a long, long time to come. Just the same, the two fighting aces of the Royal Air Force took no chances. They took the Luger from von Khole's limp fingers, and then trussed him up tight with a length of spare mooring line.
"Beautiful, Dave!" Freddy panted as they got to their feet. "I never dreamed you had that in mind. I saw you inching your foot up but it didn't even dawn on me that you were trying to get it braced against the control column so that you could shove the nose down and spill him off his feet."
"Thank goodness it didn't even dawn on von Khole, what I was up to," Dave said with a big sigh. "But just a tap would have laid him out cold. He was still a bit punch drunk from that other crack he got on his dome."
"And to think he's been aboard and hiding aft all the time we've been in the air!" Freddy said in a slightly shaky voice. "Good grief, it gives a chap the creeps! I...."
"Let it ride, and stop thinking about it!" Dave snapped and vaulted back into the pilot's seat. "Get going on that radio, and see if we can get that raider to change her course. If we can't, then there's just one thing left for us to do."
Freddy Farmer didn't bother to ask what that was. He leaped into the co-pilot's seat and went hammer and tongs at the radio. Dave hauled the Catalina out of the dive into which he had kicked her with his foot, and climbed her up and around in the direction of the steaming raider and her flock of U-boats. Every second the raider kept on steaming northward he was filled with a great desire to yell at Freddy for speed, and more speed. But he knew that the English youth was doing his level best to reestablish contact by radio.
And then, when perhaps a year or two had dragged by, Dave suddenly looked out the window on Freddy's side of the compartment, sat up straight and yelled.
"Too late, now, Freddy!" he bellowed and rapped his pal on the arm with his free hand. "She won't listen to us, now. There's planes coming, and they're Nazis. Get aft to the tail gun. Action coming up, and coming up fast!"
Freddy Farmer jerked up his head, tore off the earphones and shot a look out the window. In practically a continuation of the general movement he started scrambling out of the seat.
"It's going to be hot, Dave!" he shouted, but there was no note of fear in his voice. "Hot as blazes. But what about the raider? We can't let her get away from us! Blast von Khole from breaking into our party. The Fleet planes and...."
"Skip it!" Dave barked. "Too late for that stuff, now. It's up to us, Freddy. Keep them off our tail as long as you can. I'm going down and dump our eggs on that raider. If we can't sink her maybe we can at least cripple her. Get aft, pal, and give the bums jumping blue blazes for the good old Royal Air Force!"
Freddy Farmer hesitated a moment, snapped a quick glance at the raider they were now fast overhauling, and then gripped Dave hard on the arm.
"Right you are, old thing!" he shouted. "You plaster her, and I'll jolly well plaster them! See you sometime, somewhere!"
"I'll be there, pal!" Dave cried as Freddy ducked aft.
Jerking his head front Dave fastened his gaze on the raider, shoved the control column forward and sent the Catalina thundering down in a long dive. Even before he had lost a couple of hundred feet of altitude he heard the savage ear splitting chatter of many aerial machine guns going into action. Their sound told him they were German guns. Then an instant later he heard the sharper and louder chatter of Freddy Farmer's guns giving answer.
"With Freddy back there picking them off, we're as safe as in church!" he muttered through set lips. "There isn't a guy in the whole Royal Air Force who can shoot like Freddy. He...."
Br-r-r-r-at!
The smack of a burst of bullets slapping against one of the compartment windows cut off Dave's sentence as though with a knife. He swallowed and instinctively ducked.
"And there's some lug flying for Hitler who isn't so bad himself!" he breathed and ruddered sharply to get out of the line of fire.
As the movement took him around slightly he caught sight of the raging ball of fire tumbling down out of the air toward the sea. He couldn't tell the exact type of the plane, but he knew that it was German. Freddy Farmer had scored first blood.
"And that's only the beginning, you tramps!" he howled and ruddered back toward the raider. "So why don't you guys get wise and go on home? Freddy...."
For the second time in as many minutes sound choked off the rest of what Dave was about to say. This time it was not the crack or slap of German aerial machine gun bullets. It was louder, and deeper, like the earth trembling bark of a gigantic dog. And even as the thunderous sound came to his ears he caught sight of the flame centered globs of ugly black smoke that appeared just off the right wing. And a snap, glance downward at the raider and her U-boats told him what he already knew. The German boats had broken out their anti-aircraft guns and were trying desperately to finish what the attacking long range German sea raiding planes had started.
The sky raking fire from below blasted Dave's last hope that they might still be able to fool the raider. A slim, crazy hope in view of the fact that those aboard the raider could most certainly see him roaring down at them. However, he had clung to that hope, crazy as it was. But now it was gone. Now it was a fight to the finish. German planes, U-boats, and a heavily armed sea raider against a lone R.A.F. Catalina flying boat of the Coastal Command manned by two stout hearted, do-or-die youths still in their teens.
"Okay, you've got the idea!" Dave shouted at the raider. "So here we come with the old one-two punch."
As the words rushed off his lips, Dave steepened his wing howling dive slightly, then took one hand from the Dep control wheel and grabbed the bomb release toggles especially fitted to the side of the compartment so that the pilot could still release eggs in case the bombing officer was killed during an action. One hand gripping the Dep wheel, and the other gripping the bomb release toggles, he sent the Catalina rocketing down lower and lower, straight through a sea of bursting, roaring flame that rose up from the guns of the raider and the U-boats.
Split seconds whipped by. He felt the Catalina buck and tremble as bits of archie shell crashed into her. He heard the steady chatter of Freddy Farmer's guns aft, and he saw two more balls of flame go tumbling seaward off to his right. And then it seemed as though the hull nose of the Catalina was going to smash right down into the black smoke belching funnel of the raider. He was so close he could see the white faces of the raider's crew crouched behind their guns and frantically striving to bring their weapons to bear right on him. He even saw some members of the crew banging away at him with machine guns, and even rifles.
He heard and saw all those things as in a dream. Then in the last split second to spare he hauled the nose of the Catalina up out of its mad dive. The instant it came up level and was rocketing forward at terrific speed he yanked back a brace of bomb release toggles. No sooner had he dropped his eggs than he pulled back on the Dep wheel control, dropped the right wing slightly and went careening around and up toward the sun flooded heavens.
No sooner had he started up than his sharp eyes caught the flash of German wings cutting in at him from an angle. His free hand flew to the forward machine gun trigger button on the stick. He booted the Catalina around a bit more at the same time, and then let go with his forward guns. Through a blur he saw that the German craft was a Junkers Ju 88, one of the most deadly type of raiders Hitler was sending against British convoys. It had both bomb power and great fire power as well. It was nothing to fool around with, and Dave didn't waste time fooling. He plastered the nose of the craft, and forced the pilot to turn away. That was the German's fatal mistake. It gave Dave a belly shot, and he took full advantage of the opportunity. He gave the Junkers everything. And a split second later it was all over for the plane and its crew. It exploded in a billion flaming pieces that seemed to go arching out toward the four horizons.
"My regards to Satan!" Dave howled at the top of his voice. "You'll be seeing him before I do, and how!"
That off his chest, Dave hauled the nose even higher and plowed straight for a long range Focke-Wulf 187 twin engined job that was trying to cut down under Freddy Farmer's withering fire from the tail turret of the Catalina. That too was a bad maneuver on the part of another one of Goering's little boys. Dave's slashing burst practically cut the Focke-Wulf in two. It stopped dead in midair as though it had smacked straight into an invisible brick wall. Then it buckled in the middle, and started slowly spinning seaward.
"Cheating on you, Freddy!" Dave shouted. "But the shot was too good to pass up. I...."
Dave stopped short as the whole sky seemed to suddenly turn into a sea of blinding red, and orange, and yellow. The Catalina shook and trembled as a thunderous blast of sound rushed in upon it from all sides. For one horrible heart stopping second Dave thought that an anti-aircraft shell from the raider or one of the U-boats below had scored a direct hit on them and that the Catalina was going up in flame. In the next instant he saw the truth; saw the mighty sheet of flame off to the left that was sliding straight down to the sea leaving behind a towering column of oily black smoke and flaming bits of debris. A second look at it and his heart burst with pride. Freddy hadn't even been paying any attention to the Focke-Wulf trying to get in at him. Instead he had ignored it for bigger game. The largest and most powerful of Hitler's aerial sea raiders. A mighty four engined Focke-Wulf "Kurier." The so-called Flying Fortress of the Nazi Air Force with tremendous bomb, and cannon, and machine gun fire power. And Freddy Farmer had brought it down. Sent it hurtling down in flames never to fly again in this war, or in this world.
In spite of the showers of death that were still whining and howling about the Catalina as it prop-clawed up for altitude, Dave threw back his head and laughed.
"And I thoughtIwas taking a Nazi away from under your nose, Freddy!" he shouted aloud. "Heck! I should have realized that you couldn't be bothered with small fry. What a man, what a man!"
Nodding his head in vigorous emphasis, Dave cut out of his zoom, curved around on wingtip to throw off the aim of another Focke-Wulf trying to cut in at him, and snapped a glance down at the water. What he saw brought a yell of wild joy to his lips. Flame and smoke were belching up out of the raider's vitals amidships. And a bit astern of her two U-boats were lunging helplessly in a whirlpool of frothy water. But his joy was short lived. Though the raider had been hit, and was obviously afire, her engines were still doing their work. She was still cutting through the foam flecked rollers at top speed. Even as Dave realized the truth the belching smoke and flame diminished considerably. The raider's crew had got the bomb fire under control, and the raider was still hurling tons of anti-aircraft steel skyward.
At that moment Dave felt rather than saw movement at his side. He snapped his head around a bit to see Freddy Farmer scramble over and into the co-pilot's seat. The English youth's face was paper white but there was a wild determined look in his eyes.
"Rear gun ammo all gone!" he shouted before Dave could ask the question. "There wasn't half enough aboard! What did they think we might have to fight? A few training planes? It's up to you, Dave! You hit her once. Now hit her again and finish the blighter, and be-darned to these Jerry buzzards whizzing around us. Go on, Dave! Go on down and get her good this time. It's our last chance. You'll never have time to make a third bomb dive on her!"
"Last chance!" Dave echoed and shoved the Catalina's nose almost down to the vertical. "Last chance! And we'll make it final for that baby, too!"
As though the very air were greased the Catalina flying boat went streaking down at the raider. Dave felt her tremble and vibrate from hull nose to tail, and from wingtip to wingtip. He felt parts of the plane let go. A brace girder or perhaps a strip of her fuselage covering, but he didn't give it a second thought. This was the last dive on the raider. This time he would release every bomb in the special hull racks. This time it was the raider, or the Catalina, and maybe both.
"Nice day, isn't it?" he suddenly shouted inanely at Freddy. "Is that shooting I hear?"
"A beautiful day!" Freddy shouted back automatically. "Oh, my, no! That's not shooting. Just some old geezer in the next room rattling his evening paper. And I say, Dave, could we stop for a bite to eat? I'm famished!"
At that instant a shell from the raider's forward gun seemed to explode right on the hull nose of the Catalina. There was a mighty roar of sound, and a cloud of vivid red flame. Then the flying boat was down through it and still going.
"Like fish?" Dave yelled out.
"Hate it!" Freddy cried and made a face.
"Too bad!" Dave yelled. "Chances are that's all you're going to get, pal. Fish, and all kinds!"
"Right-o!" the English youth echoed. "But get that blasted raider, first!"
Freddy Farmer's remark ended the bit of by-play between them. The raider was looming up large below the nose of their diving plane, and the air all about them quivered and shuddered with a terrific bedlam of sound. So great was the din, Dave could hardly hear the screaming howl of the Catalina's over-revving engines. And although he held a thumb jabbed against the trigger release on the Dep wheel he could not hear his forward guns firing. He could only see the stabbing jets of flame that spewed out from the nose and streaked down toward the raider.
A mighty power dive straight down into a whole world exploding sound and flames. Time ceased to exist. Time stood still. A hundred thousand crazy, inane thoughts raced across Dave Dawson's brain, but they were forgotten almost before they were registered on the screen of his mind. And then suddenly the raider was once more directly under the nose. Another instant and the Catalina would go hurtling in to its own doom. In that last remaining instant Dave pulled out of the dive, roared straight along the entire length of the raider and pounded down the last load of the flying boat's bombs. And then like before he was once again zooming up and away.
This time, though, it was different. The American built flying boat had taken a terrific beating from Nazi guns. It had taken enough bullets and screaming fragments of anti-aircraft shells to break up a half dozen planes. Yet it still held together. Still held together and valiantly climbed upward, though it shook like rotten timber under strain from nose to tail, and though both engines coughed and sputtered, and threatened to quit cold in the very next second. Dave could sense the flying boat failing in its mighty effort to keep on going, and an icy hand closed over his heart as he wondered just how long she would last. How long before she would break up and they would go tumbling down into that inferno of gunfire below?
As a matter of fact he felt as though a miracle had actually come to pass. The miracle that Freddy and he still lived. The miracle that they had been able to hold off the Nazi aircraft this long, and to have been able to make that last do-or-die bomb dive on the raider. A Catalina was not a bomb diver. That wasn't her job. But this old girl had proved that she could tackle anything when necessary. The ship of ships, but she was doomed. Doomed just as sure as there was the golden blue of the heavens above and the raging fury of war below.
"Did it, Dave, did it!" Freddy's voice suddenly screamed in his ears. "Right on the topper this time. Look, she's heeling over! No, she's coming back up on even keel. But she's really on fire this time, and she's losing headway fast!"
Even as the English youth screamed the words Dave was staring downward at the raider. Though still plowing sluggishly forward, the raider didn't look much like a surface ship any more. She looked little more than a narrow stream of fire that bulged out slightly in the middle. About her sides water boiled and foamed white. And in the next instant there was a blast of red and a sheet of flame up toward the bow. The raider seemed to stop dead and rear up by the prow. She settled back almost immediately and continued to stagger onward like some wounded beast of prey half lurching and half walking toward its hole.
"The U-Boats!" Dave heard his own voice cry out hoarsely. "Look! They're starting to scatter. They're quitting the raider cold. Running away from her like so many rats. And we haven't any more bombs left. Darn those rats! If only there were British planes around to give us a hand. If only...."
At that exact instant came the mighty blast of worlds colliding. Red fire and clouds of smoke seemed to completely envelop Dave and blot out all else. The Catalina lurched drunkenly off onto the left wing. In the next instant it seemed to roll completely over. Instinct and instinct alone caused Dave to grab the controls with both hands and fight to get the craft back onto even keel. Yet, no matter which way he moved the Dep wheel and control column, the Catalina continued to roll over like a huge tired bird.
Then, as though by magic, the red fire and the smoke cleared away, and they both saw the jagged hole in the hull nose. Hole? There just wasn't any hull nose left! And as Dave looked out to the left he saw the left wingtip let go and go sailing off into oblivion. With a part of its lifting surface gone, the Catalina began to lurch and stagger crazily about in the air. No matter what Dave did with the controls it just didn't seem to make any difference.
"A direct hit on us!" he heard his own voice faintly. "The bums. They had to get in one last lucky shot!"
"The raider's stern gun!" came Freddy Farmer's voice through the terrible din of sound that still raged on all sides. "I saw the flash just before it hit us. We're sunk!"
"We will be darn soon!" Dave panted and struggled with the controls to counteract the flying boat's crazy maneuvers.
However, for all the good it did him, he might just as well have walked out on the wing and patched up the damaged tip. The Catalina just wasn't flyable any more and she was flip flopping seaward at an alarming rate.
"Cold meat for those Jerry planes!" Dave said savagely. "They'll have great sport picking us off like a helpless clay pigeon, now. Okay, do your darnedest, you vultures. We got some of you first, and your raider is junk ticketed for the bottom of the Atlantic. Go on and...."
Dave cut himself off short, gasped and hunched forward to gape down at the water. It looked as though a couple of dozen subterranean volcanoes had let go and were belching their fury up to the surface of the Atlantic. The area covered by the crippled raider and her wolf-pack of U-boats was virtually alive with mounting columns of water and flame. Even as Dave gaped downward the raider disappeared completely in a mighty geyser of foaming water and flame and smoke. An instant later when he saw it again the raider was broken in two pieces and plunging down under the waves.
"Dave,the Fleet!" Freddy shrilled and pounded him on the shoulder. "They're shelling them. And look. Planes.Ourplanes! From the Fleet Air Arm. They're giving those U-boats everything. Just look, will you! Nothing can live in that sea, now! We win, Dave.We win!"
Not quite sure whether he was alive or dreaming, Dave stared down at the holocaust of war being created on the surface of that part of the Atlantic. Hundreds of shells were raining down to explode among the fleeing U-boats and turn the waters into an oily froth. Shells from British battleship guns still out of sight below the horizon. And hundreds of bombs were dropping down upon the U-boat flotilla from the planes of the Fleet Air Arm. Dave looked up at the sky filled with British wings and could hardly believe his eyes. Flight after flight of them had appeared as though by magic. As though the heavens had split apart and the Fleet Air Arm ships had come tearing down through. While the bombers concentrated on the U-boats below the escort fighters tore into the Nazi planes swarming about the helpless Catalina and practically shot them out of the sky with their withering bursts of fire. In less than nothing flat, bombs were not only tumbling down into the Atlantic, but Nazi planes as well.
"Ourplanes?" Dave shouted when he found his voice. "But how the heck did they...?"
He didn't have the chance to finish the question. At that instant a lone remaining German plane wheeled in close and let fire at almost point blank range at the stumbling Catalina. Dave saw it coming out the corner of his eye, and sight and action were one for him. He let go of the Dep wheel, lunged out and hooked Freddy about the neck and then ducked forward and down. The compartment windows gave way like tissue paper before the furious blast of bullets. A sound akin to that of somebody tearing a strip off a tin roof filled Dave's ears as the shower of bullets raked the instrument panels and turned the thing into a shambles.
"Hey, what the dickens!" came Freddy's choked cry as the youth struggled to free himself from Dave's bear hug hold.
Dave let go and straightened up. So did Freddy, and the English youth's face turned from beet red to paper white as he saw the instrument panel.
"Good grief!" he got out in a tight voice. "I'd have been punched full of holes, Dave, if you hadn't grabbed...."
A short sharp explosion to their left cut off Freddy Farmer's voice. Almost instantly a spear of fire shot down across the shattered front window. Then in the next split second there was an unearthly whine and something glistening sliced right down through the anti-aircraft shell blasted hull nose. Both boys turned their heads quickly to look, but both knew instinctively what had happened.
It was Dave who shouted the truth.
"Port engine's exploded, and the prop blades have let go!" he cried. "And the wing's on fire."
"And we're too low to jump!" Freddy echoed. "Blast it! What more hard luck is going to pick on us?"
"We'll soon find out!" Dave yelled and hauled back on the control column with every ounce of his strength. "One ocean coming up! Brace yourself, Freddy, and be set to scramble out fast. She's so full of holes she'll probably sink like a rock as soon as we touch. I'm going to try and belly flop us in, but I can't guarantee a thing, pal!"
Freddy Farmer made some reply to that, but Dave didn't catch what it was. The blood was roaring in his head as he exerted the very last ounce of strength to get the Catalina's shell blasted nose up so that they would not crash head on into the water. It was like trying to pull over the side of a building. His lungs felt ready to burst. His arms felt ready to snap right out of the shoulder sockets. And a weird conglomeration of colored stars danced and spun around before his eyes. He couldn't see anything. He could only feel the heartbreaking sluggish upward movement of the plane.
He was positive that the nose was not coming up enough, and his heart stood still in his chest as he waited for the sickening, terrifying sound of the shell battered nose crashing straight into the water. Then suddenly the compartment roof seemed to drop down to hit him a stunning blow on the top of the head. He heard Freddy yell as though from a thousand miles away. Then in the next instant unseen iron fists pounded and pummeled his body from head to toe. He tried to hang onto the Dep wheel for support but his hands were wrenched free. He had the crazy sensation of sailing head over heels off into space. Then just as suddenly all movement stopped, and for an instant his ears heard no sound but that of gurgling water.
Water! The very thought of the word cleared his brain. His head ceased pounding and the dancing colored lights faded away from in front of his eyes. He turned impulsively and saw Freddy Farmer sitting bolt upright, blinking stupidly, and clutching a broken section of the radio panel between his two hands. Dave reached out and shook him roughly by the shoulder.
"Drop it, Freddy!" he barked. "It came loose and the darn thing's no life preserver. You okay?"
The English youth stopped blinking and gaped down at the section of panel he held in his hands as though it were some strange and mysterious discovery. Then he shook himself and dropped the section of panel into the water that was pouring onto the compartment floor.
"I grabbed the panel for support," he choked out. "It must have come free, and...."
"And did!" Dave cut him off. "Now, out on the wing, pal. This thing's going to be an express elevator headed down in darn short order, I'm afraid. We've got to get out on the wing so's we can jump clear. Now, up with you, Freddy!"
The English youth scrambled up onto his seat, then wiggled out through the compartment window and onto the forward hull. Bracing himself as best he could, he reached back to give Dave a hand. The Yank started out through the window, then suddenly checked himself and shook Freddy's hand free.
"Oh my gosh!" he cried. "Von Khole!"
"Hey!" Freddy screamed. "Where the...?"
By then Dave had ducked back into the compartment again. Freddy saw him through the bullet and crash shattered window. Saw him plunge aft along the cat-walk and then go right out of sight under a couple of feet of water that was rising fast. A moment later Dave reappeared spouting sea water and clutching the limp form of von Khole in his arms. He waded forward along the cat-walk and hoisted the Nazi's head and shoulders up through the window.
"Catch hold, and pull him through, Freddy!" he shouted. "He's still breathing."
The English youth didn't bother to argue. He grabbed hold of the German and pulled him through onto the forward hull hatch. A couple of moments later and Dave was through the window and standing beside him.
"Don't say it, Freddy," Dave growled. "I didn't do it to save his rotten hide. He's a present for Manners. Besides, we couldn't let him drown even if he is a Nazi. Here, give me a hand undoing these ropes. I can keep him afloat better if his arms and legs are free."
"Of all the crazy, balmy idiots!" Freddy growled, but there was a warm glow in his eyes as he bent over to fumble with the water soaked knots. "With the bus liable to sink like a rock any second, the blighter goes fishing for a Nazi. Next time do it for me, but try and come up with Adolf, himself. I ... Watch it, Dave! She's settling fast. Come on! Up on the top center section of the wing. She may not go completely down under, yet."
Dave didn't waste breath making comment. His head was swimming and he had hardly the strength left to move. Somehow, though, he and Freddy managed to hoist the unconscious von Khole up onto the top center section of the wing between the mangled engines, and then scrambled up there themselves. No sooner were they up there than they stretched out flat and panted for air, and fought back the waves of black oblivion that tried to engulf them.
The roar of aircraft engines came faintly to Dave's singing ears. He turned his head as much as strength would allow and looked up through a whirling mist at a brace of British planes circling around overhead. He saw a hand waving from one of the planes, and he tried to raise his own hand to wave back. But the strength just wasn't there. His hand fell down on Baron von Khole's limp figure. He curled his fingers in water soaked uniform cloth, and then the half sunken Catalina was lifted skyward on the crest of a swell, and Dave had the crazy belief that he was flying again.
When he next opened his eyes it was to find himself in a hospital bunk. There was a strange motion to the bunk. Then suddenly he knew that he was in hospital bay aboard ship. He turned his head to see Freddy Farmer in the next bunk. The English youth's eyes met his and they both grinned broadly. Then Freddy Farmer heaved a deep sigh.
"Well, thank goodness you've regained consciousness!" he exclaimed. "Now, perhaps you'll shut up and not talk so much. Man, what a gabber! I couldn't get a word in edgeways, and mind youIwas conscious every minute after they took us aboard."
"Talking?" Dave mumbled. "Me? What do you mean, took us aboard? Where are we?"
"Aboard the cruiser Hampden," Freddy replied. "She came up and lowered a boat and took us off the Cat-boat just in time. But every blessed minute you've been aboard you've done nothing but babble out all the details of the show. Thank goodness a German ship didn't pick us up, is all I can say!"
Dave started to gulp a question, then saw Freddy Farmer look up and grin toward the other side of his bed. He turned over to stare up into the smiling face of Air Marshal Manners.
"You, sir?" he gasped. "How did you get here?"
"By plane, of course," the Air Ministry official said with a chuckle. "Heard you two had done the job and had been saved. I couldn't wait for you to come ashore. Flew out in a Cat-boat to give you two my blessing, and all that sort of thing. Don't let Farmer pull your leg too much, though. You didn't rave much in your sleep. Mostly about von Khole, anyway. You...."
"Hey, von Khole!" Dave yelped and sat up straight in his bunk before anybody could stop him. "What happened to him? Last thing I remember I had hold of him!"
"And from what they tell me, here aboard," Manners said with a chuckle, "it must have been quite a hold! Took two sailors to pry him loose from you. But don't worry. He's safely aboard, and put on ice, as they say in the States. And still alive, of course. To tell you the truth, Dawson, I've never received such a welcome present in all my life. I owe you a debt I'm sure I'll never be able to repay."
"Maybe it would have been okay to let him drown," Dave murmured. "But somehow I think it would be better to let the whole world know about his trial, and what comes after. Particularly for Adolf to know. Funny, but I guess maybe that's the real reason I did save his hide. Just to let Adolf know for sure that we got his ace rat."
"Well, we've got him, and he'll do no more damage in this world," Manners said grimly. "Now, if there's anything...?"
"Say, thereissomething!" Dave blurted out. "Maybe you can tell me, sir? How in heck did the ships of the Fleet and the Fleet Air Arm planes show up so unexpectedly? Things popped so fast that we didn't have a chance to contact them. But there they were, Johnny on the spot. I don't understand that."
Air Marshal Manners chuckled and looked at Freddy.
"Farmer understands perfectly," he said. "I know he can explain."
"Freddy?" Dave shouted and turned around to stare at his pal. "Hey! What's all this about?"
The English youth blushed to the ears, and looked as though he wanted to sink right down thorough the bunk out of sight.
"Well, good grief, I had to do a little something to help!" he said in a fussed voice. "You were doing practically everything, you know. So ... Well, remember when I said, 'Ouch, my arm'? That was to cover up what I was trying to do. The second radio under the seat. When von Khole wasn't looking I simply slipped my hand down and tuned the set to the directional finder wave length. The Fleet operators picked it up, and came a-steaming. And got there in time, thank goodness!"
Dave blinked, gulped and then grinned broadly.
"If that doesn't beat anything I've heard!" he cried. "And me sitting there dumb as an ox, not even guessing. I ... Aw, gee! And I thought I was the great hero. Doggone it, guy! You've got to cut out making me come in second all the time. You've got to let me be the big noise, at least just once, or I'll quit and find me another pal who reallyisdumb!"
"Well, I fancy there's no choice between you two heroes!" Air Marshal Manners said as they all stopped laughing. "The convoy is safely on its way to port. Nothing can harm it now. England will never forget what you two have done today. Not only England, but the entire civilized world. And if there is any request you want to make, state it and I give you my word it shall be granted."
Dave scowled thoughtfully for a moment, then brightened and looked at Freddy.
"I've got one, but go ahead and state yours first, Freddy," he said.
The English youth looked blank and shook his head.
"Can't think of a blessed thing," he said. "What's yours?"
Dave grinned at Air Marshal Manners.
"It's a request you can grant easily, sir," he said. "Me, I'd like to be assigned to a land plane squadron for a while. I'm sure fed up with falling into the water."
"Me, too!" Freddy cried. "Oh, but definitely, sir!"
THE END