A good fifteen minutes of silence settled over the two battle-scarred youths before it was broken. And when it was, it was not by either of them. On the contrary, it was broken by a third party. By an unusually tall, and well built Japanese Navy officer who opened the door of the empty cabin and came striding inside. Both boys were startled by his sudden approach, they were amazed by his huge size, and they also noticed that he was unarmed save for the samurai sword hung at his belt. But when they looked at his face, at his eyes, they both gulped impulsively.
The newcomer's eyes were plenty Jap. They were also even more than that. The first impression that came to Dave was that he was lookinginto a pair of devil's eyes, if ever a pair existed. They were more black than brown, and they had the sagging double upper lid that distinguishes a Jap's eyes from those of a Chinese. But there was still something else about them. A certain something that was in their depths. Call it all the hideous cruelty in the world reflected there. Or call it the true look of a born killer and savage. Or call it what you will. There was something there that made Dawson catch his breath, and go hot and cold all over. It was like looking down the muzzle of a rifle and watching the finger crooked about the trigger tighten slowly. In the next split second—
"Come with me, please!"
The words that fell from the Jap's lips were like rifle shots. Hardly realizing that they were doing so, both youths sprang quickly up onto their feet. The big Jap smiled broadly.
"Good," he said, and bobbed his close shaven head. "I can see that you have learned a little of the lesson you should have learned a long time ago. Come with me, and do not let there be any trouble, please."
As a warning gesture the big Jap patted the hilt of his samurai sword, and then stepped aside and jerked his head in a silent order for Dawson and Freddy Farmer to step by him and outside.They stepped out into a fairly wide companionway, and as the Jap motioned for them to move off to the right, they saw that the far end of the companionway opened up into what was obviously one of the hangar decks of the carrier. They could see Zeros and Nakajimas, and a couple of other types that they could not make out at that distance.
They didn't have much time to study the parked planes they could see far ahead, however. The big Jap soon ushered them into a much narrower companionway off to the right, and then up a ladder. They came off the top of the ladder onto the broad flat flight deck of the carrier. It seemed covered from bow to stern with planes, with a narrow runway lane down the middle. Gazing at it, Dawson couldn't help but think of what a mess it would make if just a single plane taking off should skid to either side and lock wings with the long rows of parked planes.
"Or just a couple of well placed incendiary bombs!" he murmured absently to himself. "Boy! What a bonfire that would be!"
"Eh, Dave?" Freddy Farmer whispered at his elbow. "What was that?"
"Nothing, pal," Dawson sighed. "Just a little wishful thinking!"
At that moment the big Jap gave them a gentle push and nodded along the flight deck in the direction of the flight bridge and ship control turrets. The two youths obeyed at once, and as Dawson weaved his way in and out among the parked planes, close cropped Jap heads seemed to pop up from all sides and grin and leer at him. He paid them little attention, however. He was more interested in getting a look at the rest of the Jap force spread out over the surrounding waters. It was difficult, however, because folded wings and parked fuselages kept cutting off his line of view. He did sight the two other carriers for a brief instant—and sort of wished he hadn't. A three-carrier task force meant at least fifty other ships of different descriptions. And a surprise force that size could cause a lot, an awful lot, of trouble if it got the breaks. In fact, it might well change the entire course of the war in the far flung Pacific.
Fortunately for Dawson, he wasn't allowed much time in which to brood over that possibility. He and Farmer soon reached a point directly below the flight bridge. There the big Jap ushered them through a door and along a companionway, and up a couple of more deck ladders. Their little "walk" finally terminated in the well appointed quarters of none otherthan Admiral Suicide Sasebo himself. And the mad killer was there in the flesh, too, flanked on both sides by his runt-sized staff officers and aides. Short, overfed, bandy-legged and squint-eyed, the whole lot of them. At first glance they looked like a bunch of cross-eyed street urchins dressed up for a cops and robbers masquerade.
If Dawson were to have seen that same picture flash across the screen in a movie theatre he would have fallen out of his seat with laughter. But there was no laughter on his lips now. Not even in the back of his thoughts. Not one single giggle, for each pair of those eyes fixed upon him were not the eyes of a street urchin, but of an inhuman savage who would gladly carve him to shreds for the sheer joy of it all. No, there was no laughter in Dawson, or Freddy Farmer, as the big Jap pulled them up to an abrupt halt. Truth to relate, there was only a lot of cold fear, and twice as much worry.
Suddenly to Dave's tensed senses there came a sound akin to that of somebody putting sheets of tin to a buzz saw blade. He jumped inwardly and then realized that the ear-rasping sound was the Jap behind him addressing his commanding officer in their native tongue. Impulsively he looked at the row of Jap figures to make sure his guess as to which was Admiral Sasebo wascorrect. And it was correct. The little runt in the middle of the row, wearing fewer decorations than any of the others, made movements with his head, as though somebody were working it with strings from behind, and then made some reply in a soft sing-song note.
As the echo of the sounds he made died away, he looked at Dawson and Farmer. And to their dumbfounded belief he smiled broadly, and executed a slight bow.
"Welcome, Honorable Enemy Gentlemen," he said in fairly good English. "It is a pleasure to have you aboard my ship. Be seated, please. I am about to dismiss my officers. Then we will discuss your little problem."
The Jap Admiral bowed slightly again, then half turned and looked at the officers on one side. He said a few words, bobbed his head, and then turned to the officers on his other side and spoke to them. All of them bowed way over, murmured something, and went single file outside. And soon the cabin was empty save for the two boys, the Admiral, and the big Jap officer.
With an effort Dawson tried to shake the cobwebs out of his brain, and get himself on the alert. But it was like trying to wake himself up out of the middle of a crazy, cockeyed dream. In fact, that's just exactly what all this businessseemed like. Like part of some dizzy dream in which nobody acts his correct part. "Then we will discuss your little problem." What was going on here, anyway? And, "Welcome, Honorable Enemy Gentlemen!" Where did the guy get that welcome stuff? For fair, somebody was just plain nuts. And Dawson was worried not a little that maybe he was the one.
"Be seated, Honorable Enemy Gentlemen, please. We have plenty of time. And in war it is a good thing to relax and be comfortable whenever one gets the chance. Yes, in those chairs behind you, please."
If Dawson and Farmer had been under a complete hypnotic spell they couldn't have obeyed more mechanically as they backed up until the chair edge hit them behind the knees, and then sat down. And like a couple of dazed puppets waiting to be moved around, they just sat there with eyes fixed on the Jap Admiral. He seated himself, and stared at them for a long time before he spoke.
"So you have very interesting news for me?" he suddenly said with a rising inflection of voice. "Well, I am interested. So tell me all about it, please?"
Dawson gulped slightly and tried desperately to bat his brains off the merry-go-round on whichthey were riding, and get them to function properly. If he ever was to play a game of wits, this was the time. But at that precise moment he couldn't have spoken his own name correctly for the life of him.
Freddy Farmer, however, rushed to his rescue. The English youth looked the Jap Admiral straight in the eye, and shook his head.
"Too late, now," he said quietly. "Neither of us knows where our force is now. It may still be up north off your Japanese coast, or perhaps it is now steaming back to Pearl Harbor."
"That is too bad," the Jap said without a single change of expression. "I was hoping that perhaps I could detach one or two of my destroyers to go meet them and sink them."
Both boys got the full meaning of the "one or two destroyers" crack, but both refused to rise to the bait. They simply shrugged and waited for the Jap Navy big shot to take the lead again. They thought they saw a faint flicker of anger cross his flat, shiny face, indicating that he was a little annoyed. But that's all the sign he gave. He stared at them each in turn for several more minutes, then seemed to fix his gaze on Dawson's face.
"You say there arefivecarriers?" he asked.
"Yes, five carriers and—" Dawson replied,and then stopped dead as the walls of the room seem to come tumbling down around his ears.
He heard Freddy Farmer's startled gasp, and wished in that moment that he possessed a gun so that he could shoot his brains out. Of all the stupid, dumb fools, he took the prize. With his bare face hanging out he had walked straight into the Jap Admiral's trap, and had been caught cold. In short, the Jap had suddenly addressed him inGerman, and without thinking, fathead that he was, he had started to reply in thesametongue.
"And you Americans boast of being so very, very clever!" the Jap Navy big shot was now sneering at him. "Fools! Little children! You are all soft, and eaten away in the brain. You are finished. Do you not realize that?"
Dawson didn't say anything. He was mentally kicking himself too much to bother about speaking words. And God knows he had spoken too many words as it was—in the wrong tongue. Fathead of fatheads. Of course that Jap pilot rat had reported the entire conversation aboard the U-boat. Had mentioned, no doubt, that he and the Nazi had spoken in German so that the two prisoners wouldn't understand. But they had understood everything spoken. And now the Jap Admiralknewthat they had understood. Inshort, he had only to add two and two to make a pretty sure guess that they hadn't spoken a word of truth aboard the U-boat, and had played dumb in an attempt to pick up information they might use if they ever managed to escape. And, to put it another way, the Jap Admiral had checkmated them cold when they had barely begun to sell him a load of phoney goods.
"Yes, Japan's enemies are so cleverly foolish!" the slant-eyed one continued amidst hissing sounds. "However, you are here under my watchful eye now. And no real damage has been done. So we will forget all else that has been said, and start over again."
The Jap stopped suddenly, and leaned forward a little over the desk at which he had seated himself.
"You were shot down after having flown from an American carrier," he said. "Now, what was the name of that carrier?"
"The Tokyo Express," Dawson replied quickly. "And the first stop is Tokyo, too, believe it or not."
The faint attempt to wisecrack was completely lost on the flat-faced Jap. Which was of course to be expected, for included in the countless things that the Japanese people do not possess is a sense of humor. Even a joke that would sendan Englishman into fits of laughter would sail right over a Jap's thick-boned head. So the Admiral simply wagged his head from side to side gravely, and made a little shaking motion with the index finger of his right hand.
"That is not the truth," he said in his soft sing-song voice. "The name of your carrier was either the Carson, or the Hawk. They were both in a task force sighted two days ago. You come from one of those carriers, so it is proved that that force has moved up into waters considerably north of where it was two days ago."
"That's what we've been saying," Freddy Farmer shot at him. "The Carson, the Hawk, and you can guess how manyothercarriers. But much,muchfarther north than you suspect."
The Jap started to wag his head again gravely, but at that instant an inspiration which might enable him to regain a little of the beans he had spilled clicked in Dawson's brain. He held up a hand to check whatever the Jap Admiral was about to say.
"Just a minute, Admiral Sasebo!" he cried out. "Think what you like, but do somethinking. The war for my pal and me is all over. Ten to one we'll never leave this ship alive. And how! The whole darn world knows what you Japsdoto pilots you capture. Okay! We tookour chances, and we lost. So all that's left is the chance to rub it into you a bit, because you're headed for a loss, too, see? Think I'm kidding. All right, then, getthis! Get hold of that double-crossing flying ape of yours who shot us down, and ask him—what direction was our plane flying when he shot us down!Go ahead, ask him that, and he'll tell yousouth!And if he had his eyes open he probably saw us dump our gas hoping that the empty tank would keep us afloat longer. But it was punctured, so the plane sank in a hurry. But here's the point. Ask him about how much gas he saw us dump to empty the tank. If he can't tell you,I can. It was practicallya full tank!So figure it out, Admiral, figure it out. We were flying south with practically a full tank. Flyingbackto our carrier? Not a chance! We were scouting out from our carrier trying to find out if your force, this force right here, wastrailing us up north!"
Dawson emphasized his words with a violent nod of his head. And then he added just one more word jab for good measure.
"Okay. Throw us to the sharks. We're all washed up. But at least we've had the satisfaction of having the horse laugh onyou. And what a horse laugh, as you'll soon find out!"
As Dawson got the last off his lips he instinctively steeled himself and waited for the Jap Admiral to start screaming his head off. However, if he expected the Nippon killer to fly into a tantrum he was doomed to disappointment. Suicide Sasebo simply stared at him expressionlessly for a long, long time. Then he spoke in his native tongue, but his words were addressed to the big Jap standing just in back of the two air aces. Yet he held them with his eyes all the time he spoke.
A few moments of silence followed his words, and then the big Jap spoke. A flicker of light, or something, seemed to pass across the Admiral's face. And then he spoke for the second time. The big Jap made hissing sounds, bowed low, and then took hold of Dawson's arm and Freddy Farmer's arm with fingers of steel, and turned them around and led them out into the companionway.
Bewilderment and a faint sense of uneasiness welled up in Dawson, for he had no idea what the two Japs had spoken to each other. And if only hedidknow! It would save so much for Freddy Farmer and himself. The first time Sasebo spoke he had ordered the big one to take the two prisoners down onto the flight deck, shoot them, and toss their bodies over the side. But he had only spoken thus to see if either ofthe prisoners understood Japanese. And when he realized that they did not, and the big Jap had made a polite suggestion, he had agreed at once, given the necessary instructions, and then ordered the two air aces to be taken away.
With the measured steps of a man deep in thought, and very much worried, Colonel Welsh, Chief of Combined U. S. Intelligence, paced up and down the full length of the Carrier Carson's flight deck. He walked as a man who cared not where he was headed, because he knew that he would find nothing when he arrived there. Pilots and plane crews lounging in the crash nets that stretched the full length of the flight deck on both sides stopped talking as he passed, looked at him, gave a little shake of their heads, and murmured inaudible words of sympathy.
Suddenly the alarm system announced the approach of aircraft, the Carson's aircraft. Colonel Welsh stiffened in a halt, lifted his head andpeered at the growing dots coming out of the sky to the north. Then he wheeled quickly, ran across the flight deck and hurried up aloft to the flight bridge. And there he came to a halt, gripping the bridge rail hard with both hands, and straining his eyes at the oncoming planes.
"Too bad again, Colonel," Admiral Jackson spoke quietly in his ear. "Those are the eight who went out on the last patrol. Here, look at them through my glasses, if you wish."
"Thank you, sir," the Colonel replied in a low voice, and fixed the glasses on the approaching planes.
A few moments later he lowered them from his eyes, and handed them back to the Admiral without any word. He focussed his naked eyes on the planes, and watched as they came up in line astern formation and circled the Carson until the leader got the flag to come aboard. Then one by one they slid down aboard to practically roll into the waiting hands of the plane crews. But as each pilot passed the flight bridge he looked up at Colonel Welsh, shook his head, and made a thumbs down gesture. And when the last pilot to come aboard had done that, and rolled on down the deck, Colonel Welsh gripped the flight bridge railing so hard his knuckles showed white through the stretched skin. Andhe had to swallow hard several times to stifle the groan of anguish that struggled for expression.
"Let's have some coffee in my quarters, Colonel," the task force commander said gently. "The executive can bring us the patrol report there."
"Thank you, thank you very much, sir," Colonel Welsh mumbled, and followed the other off the flight bridge.
When they were settled in the Admiral's quarters, and had been served coffee, the Chief of Combined U. S. Intelligence glanced over at the Navy officer with a faint apologetic smile.
"I'm afraid I'm not acting the good soldier very well, sir," he said. "I hope you'll accept my apologies. But this is getting me where it hurts the most."
"I quite understand, Colonel," the other said quietly. "It gets me, too, to have pilots reported missing in action, whether I know them personally or not. You just can't help feeling it deep."
"And those two I knew so well!" Colonel Welsh breathed sadly. "I couldn't know them any better if they were my own sons. And in a way I'm directly responsible for whatever has happened to them. I was the one who assigned them to this carrier. As I told you, they hadjust completed a very dangerous mission in China. They had postponed leave to carry out the mission for me. And if any two in this war rate leave, they certainly do. But—well, it struck me I needed them badly on this job. They both have all what it takes, and—well, they performed more than one absolutely impossible miracle in the past. So I decided to order them to take a hand in this job. And—"
As the colonel paused he couldn't stop the groan this time.
"And they are the only two that we have lost," he finally completed the sentence. "If only I had an idea of what happened, I don't think it would be so bad. Death comes swiftly and suddenly in this war, so we constantly have to steel ourselves on that subject. If they were killed in action, then that's something different. But just plain missing—and when no other pilot has reported a blessed thing. Well, that is the part so hard to take. But forgive me for rambling like this, sir."
"Think nothing of it, Colonel," the Admiral said, and added a drop more of cream to his coffee. "Frankly, I've been giving the puzzle more than a little thought. For two days, now, we've combed every square mile of this area, and no pilot has seen a trace or sign of anything. Not so much as a thread of smoke on the horizon. It has me worried, Colonel."
The Chief of Combined U. S. Intelligence stuck out his lower lip and gave a little half twist of his head.
"I'm very much worried, too, sir," he said. "If that reported Jap force is in these waters, it must be at the bottom of them. It certainly isn't in the area we've scouted. And that fact is what gives me cause for thought. A lot of thought. Technically, this area we're patrolling is Japanese-controlled. And yet, not a single Jap surface ship, submarine, or plane has shown its face. And I'm afraid, sir, the answer is that confounded Kawanishi flying boat that we shot down the other evening. It stands to reason that they must have sent out a radio report to their base before Dawson and Farmer nailed them."
"I'm afraid you're right about that, Colonel," the Admiral agreed with a nod. Then, as his brows furrowed in a frown, "But we were just off New Caledonia then, and headed east. We changed the course to north after darkness had fallen. And I'm positive we weren't detected during the night, nor have we been spotted since."
"But, unfortunately, the Japs are no fools," Colonel Welsh said grimly. "They are mightyclever, and have a way of accurately figuring things out for themselves. And they probably started adding things up when their patrol planes spotted no sign of us the next morning. It's possible that they outguessed us and sent word to the commander of this Jap force we're trying to hunt down. And he took measures to make sure that we wouldn't find him. He may have changed his course and moved far over to the west."
"If he did," the Admiral grunted, and rubbed one clenched fist on the arm of his chair, "then we won't find him before the attack on Guadalcanal gets started at dawn tomorrow. Even at top speed we couldn't get over to where he may be that soon. And, of course, it's only a guess that the force is over there. Also, it would be too risky. He might swing back along the northern New Guinea coast, and slip down past Lae. Or he may force his ships and cut around the western end of New Guinea, and strike at Australia from the north. However, if the Jap commander figures that weareup here looking for him, he'll undoubtedly take the double back route. That will get him to Lae by dawn. And when he gets there he is bound to get wind of our doings against Guadalcanal. Any way you look at it, we're in a bad spot. And that is not sayinga thing about our forces taking part in the Guadalcanal business."
Colonel Welsh nodded soberly, but for a long moment he didn't say anything. He sat with his head slightly bent and his eyes fixed unwinkingly on the half filled cup of coffee he held in his hands. Presently he sighed, gave a little shake of his head, and looked up at the task force commander.
"Yes, you're dead right, sir, in everything you say," he spoke in a weary voice. "So I'll step to one side, sir, and let you have charge of things from here on. I thought sure we would catch that Jap force as a result of this search, but—well, Intelligence has been wrong before. No use weeping over it. We just didn't click this time. So go ahead, sir, and issue the order to abandon the search."
"Thank you, Colonel," the task force commander said with just the faintest note of relief in his voice. "I'm afraid we are wasting time way up here. And I'm mighty sorry, sir, about Dawson and Farmer. I sincerely hope that they will pop up again, just as you have told me they have done so many times in the past. At least it's some satisfaction to know that those two will take some beating before they'll give up. And a pair like them will never give up."
"Never!" Colonel Welsh echoed grimly. "And we can both hope, and pray. But may I ask you something, sir?"
"Why, certainly, Colonel," the other replied instantly. "I don't think you and I have any secrets aboard this ship. Go right ahead and ask."
"Your plans," the Intelligence Chief asked bluntly. "Just what do you plan to do now, sir?"
The Admiral didn't answer at once. Yet it was not because he was reluctant to speak. It was simply a case of wanting to choose his words first.
"The Solomons," he said, and glanced at the huge naval chart of the Southwest Pacific that covered all of one wall in his quarters. "By pushing things we can get within striking distance by early dawn. I think that's the thing to do. The only thing we can do. Get right down in there and do what we can to help the land forces."
"Yes, I guess that's best," Colonel Welsh said, and glanced sadly out one of the ports at the red ball of fire that was the dying sun balanced on the western lip of the wall. "But what if we get down in among those islands and that Jap force comes up on us by surprise? You'll be in mighty tight waters. And they're boundto send dive bombers over from their Lae base, too."
"Do?" the task force commander echoed in a harsh voice, as his chin came out in a fighting pose. "I'll slug it out with them until I haven't a plane left or a deck under my feet, sir! And I can tell you, sir, that my ships and planes will not be theonlyones lost, if the Japs catch us with our bows to those islands. Our forces havegotto take Guadalcanal! And that's all there is to that. We can't let them trim us this time. By God, no, sir!"
Colonel Welsh smiled, nodded, and lifted his coffee cup and held it poised in midair.
"To whatever happens, sir," he toasted. "And may we have all the best of it!"
The task force commander lifted his own coffee cup, and nodded, too.
"And we will, by God, sir!" he said through clenched teeth. "Just as long as we've got a ship floating or a plane flying! Amen!"
And the two high ranking officers drank silently.
"And now, the sixty-four dollar question," Dave Dawson got out in a bitter, puzzled voice. "What in thunder is the big idea? Go ahead and answer, Freddy."
"I can't even make a guess," the English youth groaned, and turned from staring out the empty cabin port. "All I can say is that I am absolutely and completely baffled. I don't understand it at all. What the deuce suddenly caused that Sasebo to have us herded back to this empty cabin again? After the way you raved at him, if he had drawn his samurai sword and chopped off your thick head, I could have understood. But to not so much as bat an eye, and then obviously order that big chap to bring us back here...? Well, it's quite beyond me. Quite!"
"You can say that again for me!" Dawson grunted. "But where do you get that chopped off your thick head stuff, huh?"
"Definitely!" Freddy snapped, and gave him a withering glare. "In future kindly remember that though you may wish to get killed on the spot, because you rile up some blasted cut-throat,Ihaven't the same desire to die!"
Dawson grinned and let it grow into a chuckle.
"Boy!" he breathed. "I kind of told him a thing or six, didn't I, huh? Oh, heck, Freddy, I'll admit it was taking a chance. But between you, me, and the flight deck of this tub, I've got a hunch I put a little bee in that guy's bonnet."
"I hope so, but I sincerely doubt it," Freddy Farmer said. "That bloke is nobody's fool, even though he may look like one. However, I sincerely hope you are right, Dave. You mean, about trying to make him believe that Admiral Jackson's force is up north off the Japanese coast?"
"Yes, that's what I meant," Dave nodded. "And I think he swallowed the bait, too. I'm almost willing to bet that before long he'll swing this task force about and start high-balling back up north. And send out some of his long range scout-bombers, too."
"But maybe he won't," Freddy Farmerargued. "So where does that leave us? I'll tell you! Penned up in this blasted cabin while Jackson's force is hunting for something that isn't there. And, good grief, Dave! Tomorrow at dawn is the time for the Guadalcanal attack. If this force goes sliding right on down by Jackson's position, there'll be the deuce to pay. You'll remember what Colonel Welsh kept pounding home to us? If he doesn't drive off this force, at least, the Tulagi and Guadalcanal attacks may turn out terrible flops. And at a terrible price, too. Gosh! Things are so blessed well mixed up I don't know what to think. Fact is, I can't think of anything but that we're prisoners here on this confounded vessel. If there were only some way we could escape and get in touch with Admiral Jackson's force."
"Yeah, if only!" Dawson grated with a frown as he twisted one clenched fist into the palm of his other hand. "I'd give my right arm, and maybe a couple of legs, just for a fifty-fifty chance to get out of this jam. And I've been thinking, too, Freddy."
"Thinking of what?" the English-born air ace demanded as Dawson lapsed into sudden silence.
Dave stared at him for a moment as though he hadn't heard, so engrossed was he with his own thoughts. Then suddenly he snapped hisfingers and nodded abruptly.
"About where we are, right now," he said. "And where Admiral Jackson's force should be, if they've been carrying out the search according to schedule. Freddy! If we could only get away in one of those Jap crates up on the deck, I think I could find Jackson's force before the fuel gave out. And, of course, if we failed first to raise the force on the Jap radio in the plane. Freddy, pal! You and I are wasting precious time, cooling our heels in this place. Remember what I said? If we don't get a break, it's up to us tomakeone. Well, it's up to us, and now, Freddy!"
"Now that you've brought up the subject, I fancy that I could find our force, too," the English youth replied with a nod. "It would be blasted close, but I think I could find it if Ihadto. But so what, Dave, old thing? It all boils down to the same problem we've faced since that two-faced blighter shot us down. How in the world are we going to escape?"
"Makethe break, as I just said," Dawson came back quickly. Then, looking steadily at his pal, he continued, "Make a break for both of us, I hope. But maybe it'll turn out a break for onlyoneof us. Get what I mean, son?"
"Yes, and go on," Freddy said quietly. "Thatdoesn't worry me a bit. I'm a very lucky chap, you know."
"Thanks, and it's been nice knowing you, you bum!" the Yank air ace said with a grin. And then in a deadly serious tone he went on, "It might be curtains for one of us, Freddy, though I hope and pray not. However, you never can tell, you know."
Dawson ended the last with a faint hunch of his shoulders, and an adequate gesture with both hands. Freddy Farmer looked at him for a moment, and then snorted softly.
"All right, old chap, all right!" he finally got out. "What do I have to do? Get down on my blasted hands and knees and beg? What in the world are you driving at, anyway?"
"Just this, pal!" Dawson came right back at him, and stuck out his jaw. "Both of us, or one of us, anyway, has got to grab one of the Jap crates up on the flight deck, and scram. Now, hold everything a minute, and let me finish. I know that we are locked up here, and no way to get out. So we've got to make a way, such as this. We bang on that door, there, and shout our heads off. Somebody is bound to come. We tell them we want to make a deal with Suicide Sasebo. In short, if he guarantees that we'll be taken to Japan as special prisoners of war, thenwe'll—"
"Definitely, no!" Freddy Farmer snapped. "I wouldn't give that blighter the satisfaction of—"
"Clam up your yap, will you?" Dawson hurled at him. "For cat's sakes, let me finish, dope! I'm simply telling you what we're going to say,notwhat we're going todo! So just keep your shirt on, mug, and let me finish. Okay! We bang and thump on the door there. Some guy comes, and we give him a song and dance about how we're willing to swap military info for a square deal from Sasebo. It stands to reason that the guy will either go tell Sasebo on the run, or take us there. Okay. Remember that last trip?"
"What do you mean, do I remember that last trip?" the English-born air ace asked.
Dawson groaned and made the motions with his hands of twisting an invisible neck.
"What do I mean, he says!" Dave grated. "I mean this, pal. To go see Sasebo we have to walk along the flight deck, and weave in and out among all those planes, okay. Supposing we suddenly duck under a wing, leap into a cockpit, and kick the engine into life, and—and away we go, huh?"
"I'm with you all the way, old thing," Freddy Farmer said quietly. "Of course you know that,what?"
Dave grinned, reached out a hand and slapped the English youth on the back.
"My pal, always!" he said, and meant it. "Well, that's what I mean, kid. Maybe we both wouldn't make it, but—doggone, it, Freddy! One of us has just got to make it. The way those planes are parked up there we could get off before they knew what the heck was going on! Am I right, or am I right?"
"Don't bother asking me," Freddy replied, "because I'm all for the idea. But there's one thing I think we'd better check, Dave, just in case we don't make it together."
"Shoot, pal," Dawson said instantly. "What's on your mind?"
"The approximate location of Admiral Jackson's force," the English youth replied at once. "I think we'd better agree where it is, or at least where we think it is. You see what I mean?"
Dawson nodded, and started to speak, but at that moment he experienced a crazy, daffy feeling. He felt as though there were a third person in the room, and as if that third person were listening to everything that was said, and—and chuckling up his sleeve.
"I don't think we have to worry about that, kid," Dawson replied. "I think we both knowjust about where Admiral Jackson's force should be. The big idea is, can we grab a plane and scram away from this tub? In other words, are you game, Freddy?"
The English youth didn't reply at once. He just stared at Dawson, and smouldering fires glowed in his eyes.
"And to use a thoroughly Yank expression," he eventually said, tight-lipped, "what do you think, eh?"
Dave grinned, and nodded happily.
"Okay, kid," he said, "I was only asking. Well—what are we waiting for, huh?"
The English-born air ace seemed to hesitate a brief moment, and then he smiled and nodded.
"I'll bite," he said. "Just what are we waiting for? Go ahead, old thing. Anything is better than this, what?"
Dawson hesitated, and shot Freddy a keen look, as though he was trying to check up and make sure that his pal was definitely in favor of the plan. Then he nodded silently, turned and walked over to the cabin door with one fist raised to pound against it.
But, miracle of miracles, before his knuckles had so much as touched the cabin door, he heard the key grate in the lock, and the door opened in his face to reveal the huge Jap officer whohad conducted them to Sasebo's quarters that other time. Eyes popping, and mouth hanging open, Dawson stared at the huge Jap. The son of Nippon smiled, nodded, and made a faint gesture with one hand.
"Come with me," he said. "Honorable Admiral desires to talk with you again. Come please."
For a moment Dawson could hardly believe his eyes and ears. He gaped at the Jap and then looked at Freddy Farmer. A look of astonished disbelief was stamped on the English youth's face. Dawson looked back at the big Jap, and nodded.
"Okay," he said. "Lead the way. It so happens that we want to see the Admiral, too."
The big Jap smiled, and a funny look suddenly gleamed in his double-lidded eyes. It struck Dawson as though the man were enjoying some little secret—at their expense. However, he didn't give the Jap's expression more than a passing thought. Lady Luck was indeed smiling on Freddy Farmer and him. Things were working out even better than he had hoped. Just one more break and everything would be perfect. Just the chance to suddenly duck away from this big Jap and pile into the pit of one of those Jap planes up on the flight deck. Once Freddy andhe were in the pit the rest would be a cinch. They'd go scooting down that narrow take-off lane before the dumbfounded Japs realized what had happened. Right! Just one little more break, and then it would be the Japs' turn to receive some knockout surprises.
And so, with a fervent prayer in his heart, Dawson shot a last second warning look at Freddy Farmer, and then stepped through the cabin door, and out into the companionway. A couple of minutes later he was leading the way up the ladder to the flight deck. His heart was doing wild outside loops in his chest, and the blood was racing through his veins. And as he neared the top of the ladder he heard the glorious sound of Jap aircraft engines warming up. That made it better and better. Maybe ten minutes more and Freddy and he would be streaking away on a bee-line course toward where they believed Admiral Jackson's powerful task force to be!
When Dawson reached flight deck level he slowed up his pace as though waiting for the big Jap to give him the order to continue on toward the flight bridge. As a matter of fact, though, that was not his real intention. He slowed up a little to give Freddy Farmer time to catch up closer, and, also, to take a quick furtive look around. What he saw caused his heart to pound harder than ever. Not thirty yards away, and right smack in take-off position, was a Jap Mitsubishi two-seater, long range "Karigane" MK-11. And what's more, its prop was idling over! And if that wasn't enough to make Dawson's heart sing with wild happiness, there was not a single Jap anywhere near it. Not even a member of the deck crew.
"Hot dog, hot dog!" Dawson whispered inwardly. "Almost as though we'd requested these slant-eyed rats to set the stage for us, and they had done it. An MK-11, no less. Boy, oh boy! Do Freddy and I know that Jap crate, and how! Lady Luck, you're my dream girl for life, and I don't mean perhaps!"[B]
Hardly daring to risk it, Dawson shot a quick glance at Freddy Farmer just the same. And that one quick look was enough to tell him that Freddy had spotted the MK-11, and was simply waiting for him to make the break. In fact, Dawson was positive that he had seen his English-born pal give a faint nod of his head in a signal as their eyes met.
"You will walk toward the flight bridge, please!" the big Jap snapped and pointed. "The Honorable Admiral is waiting."
Dawson nodded, shrugged, and turned forward to start walking a little faster. But he took only six or seven steps; then he suddenly half whirled, ducked down fast, and went under the wing of a parked plane. As he came out on the other side of the wing he shot a quick glance back over his shoulder and felt like yelling with joy. Good old Freddy Farmer was so close behind that the English youth was practically running up his back.
But even as he snapped a glance back to make e that Freddy was right there with him, Dawson was in high gear again. Like a broken field runner going absolutely haywire he dodged this way and that, and ducked under wings, or around parked planes. Every split second of the time he expected to hear the big Jap let out a scream of rage, but if there was a scream he didn't hear it. Nor, praise be to God, did any other Japs pop up in his path.
As a matter of fact nothing popped up to stop either of the youthful air aces as they zigzagged through the parked planes at top speed, and then reached the MK-11 and virtually hurled themselves into the pits. No sooner was Dawson in the plane than he kicked off the wheel brakes, and hand heeled home the throttle. The one thousand horsepower engine in the nose roared out its song of mighty power, and the two-seater fairly leaped forward along the narrow lane on the deck that permitted room for taking-off. With every revolution of the prop the plane picked up more and more speed, so that in no time at all the parked planes that formed the two sides of the take-off lane were little more than blurred streaks rushing past either wingtip.
No wild cries from the Japs, and no bursts of machine gun or pistol fire? Dawson was surprised by the absence of fire from the Japs for maybe a whole split second. And then he forgot all about it. The MK-11 had cleared the flight deck of the Jap carrier and was prop clawing upward. However, Dawson checked the climb instantly. In fact, he actually nosed the aircraft downward until the belly of the plane was practically kissing the tops of the long blue-green rollers of the Southwest Pacific. To climb for altitude would make him an even better target for the shipboard anti-aircraft guns that were bound to go into action in another second or two. Also, to climb would mean to sacrifice speed, and speed with which to get away from the whole darn task force in a hurry was what he wanted most. And so he hugged the wave tops, headed straight for an escorting cruiser, and went past it with his wingtips almost kissing the cruiser's mast top.
"Hey, not so close!" Freddy Farmer shouted in a moment of wild alarm. "Don't spoil our luck by ramming into one of these cursed things!"
"Just hold onto your hat, pal, and don't worry!" Dawson shouted back happily. "Pretty good we are, huh, kid? Guess those slant-eyesare still wondering what the heck happened. They haven't fired a single shot at us. Boy, wearegood, I guess!"
"Well, don't make too much of it, old thing!" the English youth shouted with a new note of alarm in his voice. "Three of the blighters are taking off from the very same carrier we did. Fancy they think they can get us in the air, and save gun shells. So keep right on going, old thing!"
Dawson gulped at that announcement and took a second or two off from his flying to sneak a quick glance back over his shoulder. And, sure enough, Freddy Farmer hadn't been kidding him! Three Jap planes were taking off from the same carrier. And his heart leaped up into his throat when he saw that they were Jap carrier Zeros. And the reason his heart leaped into his throat was because he knew that a Zero can catch up with an MK-11 any day in the week.
"Hang on, Freddy, hang on!" he thundered, and turned front again. "We've just got to get away from those Zeros. If not, then you've got to keep them at a safe distance with your rear guns. So I'll fly for us, and you fight for us. That's the way it has got to be."
"Right you are, Dave!" the English youth called forward to him. "I'll—Oh, good gosh!Dave! How about your radio? Has it got a mike?"
Impulsively Dawson switched his gaze to his radio in the front pit. And it was then that he had the queer feeling of lumps of cold lead bouncing around in the pit of his stomach. There were earphones for the radio, but no mike. The little hook at the side was empty. And the wire that ran down into the set wasn't there. It had been removed completely.
"Sweet tripe!" he gasped. "This darn set's no good for sending. Not even a mike. Hey, Freddy, have—?"
Dawson didn't bother to finish the rest. He choked off his words and twisted around in the seat instead. And when he saw the look on Freddy's face, and saw his pal sadly shake his head, little fingers of ice seemed to clutch at his heartstrings. Freddy's radio set was the same as his. Okay for receiving, but not a darned bit of good for sending.
And so it was Satan's turn to laugh now. They had stolen a plane, and had managed to get away from the Jap carrier, but what they had hoped and prayed for most had been denied them. They had been denied the chance to raise Admiral Jackson's task force on the radio and reveal to the Admiral the position and course ofAdmiral Suicide Sasebo's carrier force.
Yes, that hope was gone now. Their only chance of making any kind of a success out of this cockeyed venture was to find the Yank task force wherever it was in that vast corner of the Southwest Pacific. They had to find that Yank force somehow, but—but what about those three Jap Zeros that had taken off in pursuit of them? Yes, what aboutthem?
As that heart-chilling question pounded and hammered around in Dawson's head he turned in the seat again for another look at those three Zeros. They were in the air, now, butclimbing. Yes, instead of coming straight after the MK-11 the three Zeros were heading up for altitude as though they were actually setting off on some routine patrol. Incidentally, were it not for the fact that the three Zeros were heading in the same direction as the MK-11, Dawson would have believed that Freddy and he had made their escape one hundred per cent successful. He knew differently, however. He knew darned well that the Jap pilot in each of the three Zeros had his double-lidded eyes fixed on the MK-11, and was keeping them fixed on it, too. But why the thunder were they climbing? Why didn't they come flat out so as to catch up with the stolen MK-11 as fast as they could?
"There's something blasted funny about this, Dave!" Freddy Farmer's voice cut into his thoughts. "We neither of us can use the radio, and those blighters back there are making no effort to catch up with us. I don't like it at all. In fact—but, good Heavens, that couldn't possibly be, I'm sure!"
Dawson took his eyes off the climbing Zeros long enough to look at his pal.
"What now?" he barked. "What do you mean by that last, huh?"
Freddy Farmer didn't reply at once, and the dark frown on his face told clearly that he was struggling with some very disagreeable thoughts. Eventually the English youth bit his lip and pointed at the little hook in his pit that should have a broadcasting mike hanging on it, but didn't.
"I—I wonder if the beggarsletus escape, Dave?" he finally spoke in a hesitant voice. "Yes, I wonder very much if they didn't let us get away. After all, not a shot was fired. Fact is, I didn't see a single Jap on that flight deck try to head us off from reaching this plane. And itwassquare in position for a quick take-off, too!"
Dawson gulped, and his mouth seemed full of sawdust, and little cold shivers rippled through his body. He stared at Freddy, and then shookhis head angrily.
"Don't be nuts, Freddy!" he snapped. "Why in thundershouldthey let us escape? You're crazy, pal!"
"Possibly," Freddy Farmer replied. "But you're forgetting that there are two sides to this business."
"And so?" Dawson echoed when Freddy stopped talking. "Out with the rest of it! What do you mean, two sides?"
"What theJapswant to know, of course!" the English youth flung at him. "Why do you suppose the Japs let us stay alive so long? Because they knew we were from some Yank carrier task force, and because they wanted to find out from uswhere it is. We made that thick-headed Nazi U-boat commander believe something that wasn't the truth. But Sasebo didn't swallow our story, Dave. Not one bit of it. So they tried a trickto find out for themselves. You see?"
Dawson didn't. In fact, he didn't see any part of it. But he didn't say anything for a while. He turned front, and gave half of his attention to his flying, and mulled over Freddy's most unpleasant words. A couple of times he glanced back at the Zeros. They had leveled off at around five thousand feet, and seemed to be coasting along a couple of miles behind theMK-11. And each time Dawson turned front a few more cold shivers rippled through his body. And the lumps of lead in his stomach did some more bouncing around.
And so little by little he was forced to admit that maybe there was something in what Freddy Farmer had said. Yet it still didn't make sense to him. Heck! How did the Japsknowthat they planned to escape? And darn it, why did the Japs let them get away without a struggle? Finally Dawson turned around and caught Freddy's eye again.
"Okay, okay, maybe," he said. "But tell me this, kid? How the heck did they know we would plan to escape? And why?"
"I can only guess, Dave," the English youth replied with a frown. "But I have a very strong feeling that it is the truth. Look at the facts, Dave. They had a pretty good idea that we knew where our task force was. They figured that we would head straight for it if we ever got our hands on a plane. Fact is, Dave, they knew we'd do just that because theyheardus talking about it!"
"What?" Dawson exploded. "Heard us? What in thunder are you raving about?"
Freddy Farmer made a little impatient motion with one hand and leaned farther forward.
"Look, Dave," he said, "right after you went to town on that Sasebo he said something to that other Jap. The other Jap answered him. Then Sasebo nodded, and spoke again. Andthen, with not so much as a how do you do, or why, we were taken back to that empty cabin. There we talked over our plans of how we might manage an escape. We agreed to give it a good try, and then what happens? Everything works out as smooth as can be. We're not stopped, an aircraft is in take-off position practically waiting for us, and not a shot is fired at us from any of the task force ships. But now two things we didn't count on pop up. One, neither of us can raise Admiral Jackson's task force because the speaker units have been removed from both sets. And, two, three faster Jap Zeros are trailing us, and making no effort to catch up! Why? Because they hope forus to lead themto Jackson's force. Then they can send the news back to Sasebo, and shoot us down. As the saying goes, old thing, dead men tell no tales. Sasebo will know where Jackson is, but Jackson won't know where Sasebo is. And knowingwherethe other chap is, so that you can sneak up on him in surprise, is half the battle with aircraft carrier task forces, you see?"
"That much, yes," Dawson replied with afrown. "Yes, you're selling me a fair load of goods, Freddy. But there's one thing you haven't explained. How in thunder did theyhearus chewing over what we were going to do? Answer me that?"
"I can't prove it, unless you want to take us back to that Jap carrier!" the English youth replied in an exasperated tone. "But I'd bet anything on it. And I'm amazed that you haven't thought of it yet!"
"Okay, wonderful one!" Dawson growled. "Folks call me Dummy Dawson. So be big-hearted, and tell me the answer."
"Adictograph, of course!" Freddy snapped at him. "A dictograph put in that empty cabin while we were having our little chat-chat with Sasebo. Or maybe the confounded thing was hidden there all along. But it must have been a dictograph, and—and the beggars made all the arrangementswewanted!"
Dawson didn't say anything. He just sat stiff and straight as though he had been shot. Then he gasped, and clapped his free hand to his forehead.
"So help me, the guy must be right!" he mumbled. "The guymust be right!A dictograph as sure as the earth grows little apples. And me thinking thatwe'dpulled off somethingvery bright. Holy smoke! We really are in a jam now, Freddy!"
"Quite!" the English youth replied, and glanced back over his shoulder. "If we lead those Zero pilots to within sight of Admiral Jackson's force, it might result in a terrible thing. Just the exact opposite of what we really want to do. And that's why those devils are hanging back up there, Dave, instead of coming down to do us in. They are going to follow us until Jackson's force is sighted. Then the beggarswillcome down, no fear!"
"What now, what now?" Dawson mumbled helplessly, and stared back at the Jap Zeros himself. "If we let them trail us to Jackson's position, who knows what may come of it? And if we lead them in the wrong direction, we'll run out of gas eventually, and be forced to sit down in the water. Then Jackson will not know that Sasebo's force is moving down on Guadalcanal by a roundabout course. And Jackson will not know that Saseboknowsabout the attempt to take Guadalcanal and Tulagi. Jeepers! A choice of two things, and both bad!"