As Dawson grated out the words he automatically checked to make sure that his guns were ready for action. They were, but in the next split second the fear was his that he might not be able to use them. Those aboard the Kawanishi flying boat had obviously spotted his approach, because the huge craft had suddenly changed course and was racing upward and eastward toward the safety of a towering bank of clouds. Dave instantly nosed the Dauntless up for altitude, and shook his head savagely.
"No, not even that way!" he shouted aloud into the thunder of his own engine. "We'll smoke you out of there even if it takes all night. Nope! You rats are all washed up, and I don't mean maybe!"
With a vigorous nod for emphasis, Dawson hunched forward even more on the seat and let fly with a short burst from his guns to warm them up. Perhaps the Japs heard his firing and accepted it as a challenge. Or maybe the slant-eyed killer at the controls saw that he wouldn't be able to make the safety of the clouds in time, and was veering around to present less of a target to the oncoming Dauntless.
At any rate, the huge craft came curving around in the air, and its blunt nose started spewing out a jetting ribbon of red flame. Dave grinned and inched his plane up a little more.
"Thanks for saving me the trouble of hunting you out!" he shouted. "But you'd be a flock of dead ducks, no matter what you tried. Me and Freddy have been around, slobs, see? We sort of know most of the answers, now, when it comes to you baby killers. Okay! Try this one on your rice bowl!"
As the last left Dave's lips he pulled the nose of the Douglass Dauntless straight up toward Heaven. He let the plane prop claw upward until it was just this side of the stalling point. Then, with a kick on the rudder pedal and a swift pass at the controls, he whipped the scout-bomber over and down at practically the vertical. As he had been going straight up, theKawanishi had been rushing straight forward, and so as a result the big craft was almost directly below when Dawson came rushing down again. He had only to ease just a little out of his dive to catch the top of the flying boat in his sights. And the instant he had it pinned in his sights he let go with his forward guns.
For one brief instant nothing seemed to happen. Then suddenly the huge Kawanishi appeared to stand still in the air. Stand still and spew out jetting ribbons of red flame from a dozen different points from the nose of the hull clear back to the tail. The jetting ribbons of flame marked the efforts of the Jap gunners aboard to get the diving Dauntless in their sights. However, they might just as well have tried to pick off a haywire comet rushing down at them.
And then, as the flying boat seemed to come to a dead halt in the air, the efforts of the Jap gunners came to a swift and abrupt halt. A tiny tongue of flame shot up from the forward end. Then as though by magic it spread out fan-shaped and went sweeping backward to engulf everything in a raging inferno of flame. Eyes popping, and heart practically standing still, Dawson stared in awe at the horrible sight. And then in the nick of time he snapped out of his trance, and hauled the plunging Dauntless offto the side and into the clear.
"About time, little man!" he heard Freddy Farmer shout. "I thought you were going to run into the beggar, and tell him you were sorry. But you know you're very hoggish, don't you. A very greedy beggar, if there ever was one."
Dawson didn't make any reply at once. He brought the Dauntless back onto even keel, and then turned in the seat to look back at the Kawanishi. That is, he turned in the seat to look back at what wasleftof the huge flying boat. And that was just a great ball of flame and smoke that hovered in midair for a moment or two before it started dropping earthward trailing behind a long column of fluffy black. Dave followed it all the way down until it smacked into the Southwest Pacific with a mighty splash.
"What was that you were babbling about, pal?" he then demanded of his flying mate.
"I was remarking that you are a rotter!" Freddy Farmer snapped. "Very definitely so. And twice as greedy, too. What do you think I'm back here for, with guns of my own, eh?"
"I sure could answer that one, but skip it, pal!" Dave laughed at him. "But it was just one of those things, Freddy, so help me. I must have nailed the pilot and one of the tanks firstburst. Boy! Did he burn up and go down quick! Talk about shooting clay pigeons! That was certainly the cinchiest thing I ever tackled. I—Holy smoke! Hold it a moment, Freddy! I should be reporting to the carrier."
Forgetting Freddy Farmer for the moment, Dave concentrated on raising the carrier on the radio, and made his report. His report was acknowledged, and he was given orders to return to the surface vessel at once. The orders had been short and sweet, and Dave broke off contact with a faint frown.
"Now what, I wonder?" he grunted absently. "They didn't seem to be very pleased about it. What did they expect, anyway?"
"Good grief, what didyouexpect?" Freddy Farmer snapped at him. "A citation for a medal while you're still in the air? Use your head, old thing. The carrier task force commander is pleased right enough, I fancy. But undoubtedly quite worried, too. He wants us back in a hurry for questioning."
"Huh?" Dave echoed, and started searching the surrounding skies. "You mean, because maybe there's some more of those big babies around?"
"Oh my hat!" the English youth groaned. "At times I swear you absolutely have not a brain inyour head, Dave. And this is one of them. Radio, my little man. Radio!"
Dave turned in the seat and gave Freddy a nasty stare.
"All right, wise guy!" he growled. "Stop playing riddles, and out with it. What do you mean, radio?"
"The Jap radio!" Freddy came right back at him fast. "The radioon that Kawanishithat you just shot down so expertly. Perhaps they sighted our task force and radioed word to their base before you put the lot of them out of commission. Now do you see?"
Dave stiffened in the seat, let out a yelp, and clapped one hand to his forehead.
"Knock me for an outside loop, am I dumb!" he cried. "Am I thick, and dumb, and stupid! Holy smokes, yes, Freddy! And I'm taking off my humble hat to you. That's right, pal. If they did sight our carrier task force and got word of it back to their base in time, then we certainly are off to a terrible start, and how. Jeepers! I wonder just how far from home that Kawanishi was?"
"We'll probably never know, but what does it matter?" the English youth grunted. "The point is,didthey get word back about the Hawk and the Carson, or didn't they? I bet ColonelWelsh and Admiral Jackson are having a few very bad moments right now. That Kawanishi business could turn everything upside down, you know. And worse luck, it probably will."
Dawson just nodded, and let it go at that as he gave his attention to getting back to the task force as quickly as he could. It was about fifteen minutes before they spotted the force on the horizon. And it was another ten before they were safely aboard the Carson, and a junior officer was leading them to the Admiral's quarters. They found Colonel Welsh there, too. And also the ship's executive flight officer. The Admiral took the salute, but it was Colonel Welsh who spoke to them.
"Nice shooting," he said quietly. "Now let's have your report in detail. Did the Jap see you approach, or did you get him before he realized what was happening?"
Dave glanced at Freddy, got the sign to do the talking, and made a little gesture with one hand.
"I'm afraid he saw us, sir," he replied. And then he reported in detail their flight from take-off to landing.
When he had finished a heavy silence hung over the Admiral's quarters. It was plain to see that the news was not what they had been hopingit would be. And after a few moments Admiral Jackson looked at Colonel Welsh, and sighed heavily.
"Well, that changes our plans, I guess, Colonel," he said. "The Japs must certainly know where we are, now, even though they don't know where we're heading. And by morning they're bound to have flocks of their long range planes out looking for us. That makes it not so good."
Colonel Welsh nodded in unhappy agreement and chewed on his lower lip.
"Not good at all," he murmured. "A rotten bit of luck right at the start. One hour sooner and we'd have been covered by darkness. But why talk about that now? He knows where we are, and so the next move is up to us. I'm afraid, Admiral, our only hope is to fall back on the substitute plan, and take our chances."
"Confound that Kawanishi!" Admiral Jackson grated, and banged a bunched fist on the desk top. "Ten to one he was probably way off his patrol course, and just happened to bump into us by accident. Not the first time that sort of thing has happened, either. Yes, I guess you're right, Colonel. We've got to go back to the substitute plan, and pray. I'll inform the other carrier and the rest of the task force."
The Admiral sighed, shook his head in an unhappy gesture, and then looked at Dawson and Freddy Farmer.
"Don't take any of the blame for the rotten luck, you two," he said with a faint smile. "You did the best you could. At least it's something that they'll never go back to their base to report in detail. Very well, then, gentlemen. If you'll excuse me I'll give my orders to the signal officer."
The others took the "hint" and filed quickly out of the Admiral's quarters. Dawson and Freddy Farmer went down onto the flight deck and over to where crew men were checking over their Dauntless.
"Any damage?" Dave asked the aviation machinist's mate in charge. "Did we catch any lead?"
"Not a bit, sir," the other replied. "Not a scar any place. You must have jumped on him fast, and plenty."
"Not too fast, I'm afraid," Dawson replied with a rueful grin. "They were just rotten shots, I guess."
"Maybe, sir," the machinist's mate said with a shrug. "But you smacked 'em, and that's what they pay off on in this man's war."
Dave grinned and nodded silently, and startedalong the flight deck with Freddy. However, they had progressed but a few steps toward the companionway leading down below decks when they heard their names called. They turned around to see Colonel Welsh striding toward them.
"I just want to repeat that it was a good job you did on that Jap rat snooping plane," the senior officer said when he reached them. "Also, don't feel too badly that you didn't get to it sooner. After all, it wasn't your fault. Our own scouting planes should have been aloft and spotted it. It was just one of those things, so don't let it throw you, eh?"
The colonel cocked a brow and smiled as he spoke the last. Dave returned the smile and shook his head.
"I won't, sir," he said. "A tough break that just couldn't be helped. Maybe we'll have better luck next time."
As Dave spoke the last he looked hard at Colonel Welsh, and so did Freddy Farmer. The senior officer appeared not to notice for a moment or two. Then he grinned slowly.
"Neither of you would be curious, would you?" he chuckled.
"Could be, sir," Dave replied with a laugh. "Is that substitute plan you and the Admiralwere talking about strictly hush-hush?"
"I guess there's no harm in telling you," the colonel said after a long pause. "Because of the size of this task force we were going to follow a roundabout route to the searching area. However, now that the Japs know that we're here, and have guessed our approximate course, they'll probably have their torpedo planes and dive bombers out combing this area as soon as daylight comes tomorrow."
"And a jolly lot of good it would do them!" Freddy Farmer said grimly.
"Probably true," the colonel said with a faint smile. "No doubt the chaps here on the Carson and those over on the Hawk, could make it quite a disastrous affair for the Japs. But that isn't the point. Our advantage of surprise on this maneuver would be completely lost. We might even sustain some damage, and be forced to put back to port. And that, of course, is the one thing we can't afford to do. There isn't too much time on our side as it is. So the only thing we can do, now, is to carry out our substitute plan. Just as soon as darkness settles down we're going to change course to due north and sneak right up by the Solomons to the searching area. By light tomorrow we hope to be well north of the Islands and out of sight of their patrol planesbased there."
As the colonel stopped Dawson whistled softly.
"That'll be cutting it close!" he said. "Here's hoping we don't bump into a couple of their destroyers on the prowl, and get our hand tipped."
"Yes, here's hoping!" the colonel said almost fervently. "If they spot us sneaking by the Islands our whole maneuver will go higher than a kite. But we've got to take that chance, and pray as none of us has ever prayed before."
"Amen!" Freddy Farmer breathed softly.
When darkness settled down, the two-carrier task force changed course to due north, spread out considerably, and went churning forward at full knots, and with not so much as a speck of light showing any place. For a couple of hours after evening mess Dawson and Farmer loafed around on deck, as did almost everybody else who was not on duty. Little was spoken, though, in the way of conversation, and then only in low tones. From bow to stern, and from keel to signal bridge, there prevailed an atmosphere of tense, silent excitement. Everybody aboard knew that the task force would pass almost within a stone's throw of the Jap occupied Solomons some time during the night. And every other split second at least a hundred pairof eyes peered out over the port rail at the wall of night to the west.
Eventually, though, the desire for sleep was stronger than the desire to remain awake just in case. And so one by one the pilots went below. And Dave and Freddy were among the first in the parade.
"This isn't any pleasure cruise, so we might as well catch all the shut-eye we can," Dave summed it up as he stretched out in his bunk. "It's a cinch the Admiral isn't going to send word around when we reach the closest point to the Solomons, so why stay up on deck staring at nothing but darkness?"
"Quite," Freddy murmured. "And if the force is sighted we'll know about it soon enough."
"Now, isn't that a sweet thought to go to sleep on?" Dave growled, and rolled over on his side. "See you in the morning, sweetheart. Stay up and worry if you want to. But not me!"
"Who said who was worrying?" the English youth snapped. "I was only remarking that—"
Freddy cut himself off short and glared at Dawson's bunk. A faint snore told him that he was addressing an audience that consisted of only himself. He made a face, snapped off the light, and pulled aside the blackout curtainsover the ports to let in the night air, and then stretched out himself and thought of his homeland many thousands of miles away. However, he didn't think of England for very long. Sleep soon pulled down his eyelids and off he drifted.
The next thing either of them knew was the blaring of the inter-ship alarm siren, and the hubbub and scuffle of activity on the deck above. Instantly both were wide awake and leaping out of their bunks.
"Trouble!" Dave snapped. "Let's go. Hey! It's light! We must be past the Solomons!"
"There's one way to find out!" Freddy shot back at him, and grabbed up his helmet and goggles.
Dawson, also, had slept in his clothes so as to be ready for any emergency. So he grabbed his helmet and goggles and followed Freddy out of the cabin. When they reached the flight deck it was to find that all the commotion was caused by the carrier's early patrol getting off for a quick look-see ahead. There was no sign of enemy planes in the dawn-tinted heavens. In fact, as Dawson took a good look toward all four points of the compass he realized that there was no sign of anything save the flock of ships that made up the task force, and countless square miles of rolling blue-green ocean. He turned toFreddy to make some remark about the situation, but checked the words as Donald Duck blared out an announcement.
"All pilots assigned to special duty will go below for breakfast, and then report to the Ready-Room for briefing!"
"That's us, Freddy, old—" Dave began, and stopped short.
The English youth was already on his way down to eat. Dave chuckled, gave a little shake of his head, and followed his pal. And just thirty minutes later all of the special assignment pilots were gathered in the Ready-Room. Colonel Welsh and the executive flight officer were there, and the colonel started talking as soon as the last pilot to arrive had seated himself.
"Well, we made it, we think," he began. "Nothing was sighted last night, and right now we are on the edge of the area to be searched. The searching patrols are to be made in relays. That is, all of you will go out and fly your patrols, and as you are returning to refuel the Hawk will launch her planes to take up where you left off. Here on the table in front of me are envelopes containing patrol courses and instructions for every flying team. Your names are printed on the outside, so before you leave come up and get your envelope. Well, I guessthat's all, except this. We feel, now, that the Jap snooper business late yesterday afternoon didn't do us any harm. At least we hope and pray that it is like that. However, there is just a chance that the Japs have managed to trail us somehow, and will attempt to cross us up by launching a land-based attack. For that reason, keep your radios open all the time you are in the air. You may get the call to come back here in a hurry."
The colonel paused, started to make a gesture of dismissal, but checked himself.
"Now, there's one more thing I'd better mention, though you'll find it included in your sealed orders," he said. "And it is this. The safety of this task force is of prime importance. At least, until we have found this unknown Jap force and are engaging it. I mean by that, if any of you get into any personal trouble, such as being jumped by surprise by Jap planes, or something goes wrong that forces you down into the drink, don't count on any help from this task force. You will be strictly on your own. In short, as you will learn when you read your individual orders, you arenotto make radio contact with this task forceunless you sight Jap surface units of three or more ships in number. One reason for that is to prevent any Japs fromlistening in on your wave lengths, and learning of the force's existence in these waters by taking a bearing to locate our position. And the reason it must be three or more Jap ships that you sight is because the Japs might possibly try to decoy us into a favorable position for them. Well, that is all, now. Good luck, and Godspeed to all of you. We have two days and one night in which to accomplish this mighty difficult job. If we don't sight that Jap force today, then we've absolutelygotto do it tomorrow. The attack on Guadalcanal and Tulagi will begin on the morning of the third day—whether we succeed, or fail. And so it's up to you pilots. And I know you'll make the grade. Good luck, again."
As the colonel stopped talking there was no burst of applause, or anything like that, from the pilots. Each man simply nodded gravely and then went up to the table to collect his sealed orders. Dave got the envelope for Freddy and himself, and without stopping to open it the pair hurried top-side to where their aircraft was waiting with prop already ticking over. Settling themselves in the aircraft, they took out their orders and read them over carefully. The course they were to fly extended out over the water for some three hundred and fifty milesin a dead northwest direction. They were to keep at an altitude of eight thousand feet, unless clouds or storms interfered, and their code call was to be Tiger, just as it had been yesterday.
"Okay, Mister Navigator," Dave said, and passed the course chart over to Freddy. "You keep track of our position, pal. And don't bother to explain if you get us lost. Just jump over the side and leave your parachute behind, see?"
"Oh, really?" the English youth growled. "Well, don't worry about me, my good man. I'll take care of my end, thank you. Just concentrate on keeping usinthe air. Matter of fact, I think it's rather silly of me to take you along. Perhaps I should speak of that to Colonel Welsh, right now."
"Do, sweetheart, by all means!" Dawson snarled, and pointed a finger toward the sky. "I'll be up there waiting for you when you get back!"
Freddy started to say something in return but checked himself as he caught sight of the signal officer pointing his flag.
"Get going, Dave," he said, and winked. "Off we go, and luck to both of us, old thing."
"Right on the old beam, pal," Dawson replied, and turned front. "You, me, and this baby with wings. Maybe we'll all be heroes of thetask force, come sundown."
"You be the hero," Freddy laughed at him. "AllIwant to be islucky, and to find the Jap force!"
"And you've really got something there, kid!" Dawson agreed instantly, and then gave his attention to the flag pointing signal officer on the flight bridge.
Just three minutes and twenty seconds later Dawson took the Dauntless off the flight deck and nosed it up toward the early morning sky. He kept on going up until the altimeter said eight thousand feet. There he leveled off, set his course according to the instructions Freddy Farmer gave him, took a last look down at the Carson that was launching her planes at the rate of one every fifteen seconds, and then turned front and settled himself comfortably in the seat. Minutes later the task force was out of sight far behind and Freddy and he were alone in a world of dawn light and limitless expanse of ocean below.
"How you doing, Freddy? Having fun, huh?"
As he asked the questions Dawson twisted around in the seat and grinned. They were close to the end of their patrol "beat." Soon they would turn around and retrace their air tracks to the carrier Carson.
"Me?" the English youth echoed with a forced smile supposed to indicate mock happiness. "Why, I never had so much fun in my life. Such wonderful sun-filled air. And isn't all that water down there just beautiful? I could just sit here and look at it all day—I don't think! Man! I wish we could get a look at something. Anything would be perfectly all right with me."
"And how!" Dave breathed, and pushed uphis goggles. "Boy! Am I sick of looking at water. When we took off I was all hopped up and bubbling over with expectations. But no more now. Nothing can take the starch out of you like looking for something, and not finding it. So I guess this isn't our day, pal. At least not this patrol. If there's any Jap force around these parts, it's down there under water, and I can't see it."
"Quite!" Freddy grunted, and then gave a little harsh laugh. "But, after all, why should we expect fate to play into our hands? We're just two of many working on the job. It's quite possible that the blasted Jap force has already been spotted by one of the other chaps, and our force isn't going to further risk revealing its position by recalling us. Maybe—"
"Here, here, put on the brakes, pal!" Dawson laughed, and nodded his head at the radio. "If and when that Jap force is sighted we'll all be recalled and pronto. We'll be needed in the scrap, and how!"
"Yes, of course, you're right," Freddy said with a slightly sheepish grin. "Still—"
The English youth cut himself off short, stiffened slightly, and blinked toward the east.
"What's the matter, kid?" Dave asked, and turned his own head that way. "Don't tell meyou see something?"
"I'm not sure; I can't say," Freddy replied, and continued to stare hard. "Thought I saw a flash of something out there a way. Like sun on the wings of a plane. Or maybe it was just the sun on a wave."
"Probably," Dave grunted, and strained his own eyes. "But maybe the team to our right has gotten off course and swung closer to us. You—"
"There it is again!" Freddy broke in excitedly, and pointed. "Right out there. And it is a plane, though I can't tell what kind."
Dawson hesitated for a split second, and then as he, too, caught sight of sunlight flashing off the wings of a moving plane he made up his mind, and banked the plane around.
"Maybe we'd better take a look, just in case, Freddy," he said. "Maybe it's one of ours way off course. And then again, maybe it isn't. So we'll go look-see."
Freddy Farmer simply nodded, and made no comment as Dawson brought the Dauntless all the way around, and gave the Cyclone in the nose full throttle. And during the next couple of minutes neither of them spoke. Both were too busy trying to keep the distant plane in sight. It was more or less between them and the sunclimbing up toward the zenith, and for that reason they kept losing sight of the other plane in the sun's brilliance.
They quickly picked it out again, and presently they were close enough to get a good look.
"Hey, what do you know!" Dave cried in astonishment. "That's not one of ours, but whose is it? I sure never saw a job like that before. Did you ever, Freddy?"
The English youth shook his head and frowned at the other plane. It was a double pontooned seaplane with short, stubby-tipped bi-plane wings. It was painted a light, light gray, but carried no markings or insignia of any sort.
"No, I never have," Freddy Farmer finally replied to Dave's question. "Rather a queer-looking thing, isn't it? A two-place aircraft, too. And what in the world is it doing way out here, I'd like to know? A thing that small certainly can't carry much gas!"
"Just what I'm thinking, too!" Dawson grunted, and took his eyes off the other plane to sweep the surrounding waters carefully. "I'd bet it isn't a land-based job. Must be from some surface ship. And, doggone it, don't they see us coming over? Why don't they give some sign whether they're foe or friend? Maybe I should let them have a burst to wake them up!"
"Not a bad idea, Dave; go ahead," Freddy said. "They—no, wait a bit! They've spotted us, and are coming over. See?"
Freddy's exclamation was a waste of breath as far as Dawson was concerned. He had already seen the seaplane bank around toward them and came prop clawing across the sky. For some unknown reason, which he didn't bother to fathom at that moment, the old familiar warning of impending danger rippled across the back of his neck. And he impulsively slid the guard off the electric firing button of his forward guns, and got set to catch the oncoming seaplane in his sights at an instant's alarm.
There seemed no need to be on the alert for danger, however. The figure in the rear pit of the strange-looking seaplane stood up in the slip-stream and waved both hands in greeting. Because of the helmet and goggles the figure was wearing neither Dave nor Freddy could get a look at his face. And a flying jacket covered up whatever kind of uniform he was wearing. In short, the waving figure could well have been a daredevil ace from Timbuktu as far as Dave Dawson and Freddy Farmer were concerned.
"Who the heck are you?" Dave shouted just to let off steam. "Friend or foe? And where in the world did you dig up that crate, anyway?"
Of course the thunder of the Dauntless' Cyclone drowned out Dave's words, but a split second later it was almost as though the two unknowns in the other plane had heard and understood. This time the figure in the pilot's pit stood up, and waved. Then he stopped waving and pointed past the Dauntless. Dawson frowned, then instinctively twisted around in the pit to stare back. He saw Freddy start to twist around, and then violently check himself as wild alarm lighted up his face.
"Dave! Look out! The blasted beggars are—!"
And that's all Dawson heard of Freddy Farmer's screaming voice, for the rest was drowned out by the savage yammer of aerial machine guns. He jerked front just in time to see the seaplane boring straight in at him from the left. It was headed dead for the nose of the Dauntless, and in the infinitesimal period of frozen astonishment Dawson saw the bullets from the guns of the other plane hammer and chew their way through the Cyclone's cowling. And then before he could move the control stick, or jump on a rudder pedal, the seaplane had flashed by him, and his Cyclone was starting to cough raspingly and spew black smoke out of its exhaust.
"Why, you dirty, low down rat!" Dave roared, and dropped the nose of the Dauntless. "You—you double-crossing, cheating bum! I'll teach you to pull a dirty one like that! Come back here and take—!"
But Dawson was simply exploding words, and he ended them with a bitter groan, as more smoke poured back from the bullet-damaged engine, and the power plant quit altogether. He and Freddy had been tricked as neatly as could be. There was no doubt, now, as to whether the occupants of the strange-looking seaplane were friend or foe. They were Jap rats, and true to their rotten race they had struck their blow under false colors.
And a blow they had struck, too! No doubt about that, either. Their well placed bullets had finished the Wright Cyclone, and the Dauntless was nosing down toward the waters of the Southwest Pacific below. And the danger wasn't passed, either. With a dead engine the plane was just a gliding target for those two Japs in the seaplane. They had only to sneak up under and out of reach of Freddy Farmer's rear pit guns, and drill the scout-bomber like a setting hen on a fence.
And as thoughts crashed through his brain Dawson twisted around quickly to be ready todo what little he could when the seaplane came winging back. Freddy Farmer had swung his guns around, and was waiting to catch the seaplane in his sights if he got the chance. Not a word had he spoken since his cry of alarm to Dave, but the look of raging anger on his flushed face indicated that he wasthinkingplenty.
Dave caught that look in one flashing glance and then whipped his gaze out across the air space to where the strange-looking seaplane was circling about slowly just out of range of Freddy's guns.
"What the heck?" Dave gasped impulsively, and scowled. "What's wrong with those rats? Afraid to come in for the kill? Holy smokes! They've got us cold, darn their rotten hides."
"That's what I'm wondering, too," Freddy Farmer said in a tight voice as he spoke for the first time since the sudden attack. "They're either afraid, or else theyaren'tJaps!"
"Huh?" Dawson gulped. "What do you mean by that, Freddy?"
"Just crippling a chap's engine wouldn't suit Japs," the English youth replied. "They have to slaughter, too. That's half the enjoyment for them, blast their black hearts. So they must be afraid that I'll pick them off, if they come in closer. Or maybe they're hoping we'll bail out.Thenit would be more fun for them!"
"Yeah!" Dawson grunted, and took a quick look down at the surface of the water now less than two thousand feet below the wings of the helpless Dauntless. "Yeah! Or maybe they want to play target practice after we land in the water. Maybe that would be even more fun for the dirty killers. Gosh, I'm sorry, Freddy. I'm a sap, a dope, and I should be—"
"Don't be silly!" young Farmer snapped at him. "Cut it out, Dave! We're both equally at fault for letting them slip in on us, and falling for that fake pointing business. But, good grief! What else would anybody have done in our shoes? Nothing. At least nothing, and have been human. Man! If only they'd come in just a little closer. I'd give them something they'd not forget, the dirty blighters!"
But Freddy was simply "shooting the breeze" to let off steam, too. The Japs were sticking to their distance, and even if they suddenly should come ripping in it was questionable whether Freddy would be able to stop them from cutting the helpless Dauntless to pieces, to say nothing of bullet riddling its two occupants.
However, the strange-looking seaplane did stay well clear, and a couple of moments later Dave stall-landed the dead engined plane in thewater. As soon as the plane stopped mushing forward and began to settle slowly by the nose, Dawson unsnapped his safety harness, twisted the little valve knob that automatically inflated his "Mae West," and then gave Freddy Farmer a hand in getting the collapsible rubber life raft over the side. Into it they tossed the few things they could take with them and then climbed in and shoved off from the sinking plane.
Neither of them spoke. Both were thinking the same thing, and didn't wish to alarm the other by speaking of it. In short, both were thinking of the strange-looking seaplane now circling about above them, and waiting for it to come gun spitting down in its power dive of death. But finally Dawson broke the silence as he stared up at the circling plane.
"All right, killers!" he got out hoarsely. "The stage is all set. Here we are. Just a couple of clay pigeons named Joe. Come on down and do your dirty work. We've got a few million pals who'll even it up for us some day. So come on down, darn you! We can take it, see? You're darn right we can!"
"Easy, Dave, old man!" Freddy soothed, and placed a hand on Dawson's knee. "It isn't going to help any to rave at the beggars."
"Who says it isn't?" Dave rasped, and kepthis gaze fixed on the circling plane. "It makes me feel better, anyway. Oh, don't worry, kid. I'm not blowing my top, or going off the beam. I just figure it's curtains, and, by gosh, I've got a few things I want to get off my chest. I hate those rotten—Well, for the love of Mike, maybe I am going nuts, and seeing things! Do you see what I see, Freddy? Or am I just looking at a sky mirage?That doggone plane is flying away!"
And that was the truth! The strange-looking seaplane had circled down to some five hundred feet above the floating life raft, and then suddenly flattened out and was now making tracks toward the northeast.
"No, it's no mirage, Dave," Freddy said in an awed voice. "The blighters are certainly leaving us. But why, I wonder? Dave! Maybe they've sighted one of our planes, or one of our ships, or something!"
Dawson didn't make any reply. Wild hope choked up in his throat, and he eagerly searched both sky and water. However, that's all he saw. Just sky and water, save for the seaplane that was fast becoming a disappearing dot in the northeast. Freddy helped him look, and for ten minutes neither of them spoke. Then Dave groaned and gave a little shake of his head.
"Well, if it was a ship or a plane, it's gone now," he grunted. "So it looks like we'll have to keep each other company for a spell longer, pal."
"Oh, yes, quite," Freddy Farmer murmured, and nodded absently. "A blasted funny business this, though. I still can't make up my mind if those seaplane beggarswereJaps. Why did they just force us down, and then let us alone? That's definitely not Jap style. And to say that that seaplane was—But, man! That's impossible! Definitely!"
"What is?" Dave wanted to know.
"That it was one of our planes, and they shot us down by mistake," Freddy said. "But that couldn't be. Our markings were as plain as day for anybody to see."
"Yeah," Dave said, and sighed. "But maybe welooklike Japs, and they figured we'd swiped the Dauntless."
Freddy Farmer's comment on Dave's wisecrack was a pronounced snort. Then both lapsed into brooding silence and stared more or less unseeingly out across the limitless expanse of ocean.
The sun was a shimmering ball of brass that seemed to hang motionless in the high heavens forever and ever. At least it seemed forever to Dawson and Farmer, huddled down in the small rubber life raft that rose and fell with maddening monotonous regularity under the urging of the long, rolling swells of the Southwest Pacific. Brassy sun on high, all about them, and even dancing up off the waters straight into their eyes.
"Oh, for a shack about six miles this side of the North Pole!" Dave groaned, and licked his cracked lips. "What I wouldn't give for a spot like that, right now!"
"Yes, quite," Freddy answered listlessly. "And, of course, during the six months of nightthey have up there. You know, Dave, I—I say! Look! Look, Dave! To starboard. Way out where the blasted sky meets the blasted water! Do you see something?"
For a couple of moments Dawson refused to turn his head. It seemed as though he had spent his entire life in this raft squinting hopefully at imagined objects, only to be slapped in his burning, stinging face by lost hope. For twenty-six heart-crushing long hours Freddy and he had been floating about in the raft on the crest of the Southwest Pacific. Twelve of those hours had been spent in the darkness of night, hoping, hoping, hoping that dawn's light would bring them a sight of one of their own planes, or one of the task force ships. Just to see something besides sky, water, and darkness would have been something, even if it hadn't meant rescue for them. But it had been only sky, water, and darkness. Then sky, and water again, and a blast furnace sun that seemed to pierce the top of their heads and burn their brains to a crisp.
But presently Dawson did turn his head, cup his hands to his tired eyes, and peer in the direction Freddy Farmer was pointing. At first he saw absolutely nothing. Then, suddenly, his heart leaped high in his chest. Therewassomething way out there! Something on the surfaceof the water, or just over it. He couldn't tell for sure. And he definitely couldn't even guess at what it might be. The dazzling rays of the sun dancing up off the surface of the water were like hot needle points that drew blood in his eyes. But there was something way out there on the horizon. Yes, definitely something, but did it mean life, or death?
That last question pounded around and around inside Dave's head as he strained his eyes at the distant horizon.
"Do you see it, Dave?" Freddy Farmer's voice broke into his thoughts.
"Yeah, I see it, but what?" he replied. "A ship, a plane, or maybe just some kind of a bird?"
"My guess is a submarine," Freddy said. Then, an instant later, he exclaimed, "Yes, I'm sure of it! I can make out the conning tower. Good grief! Dave!It's a Nazi U-boat!"
"Huh?" Dave gasped, and sat up so violently that he rocked the raft. "You're nuts, Freddy. This is the Pacific, not the Atlantic!"
"That may be!" the English youth shot right back at him. "But that thing out there is a Nazi U-boat, or I never saw one. See? It's coming toward us now. It must have sighted us!"
"Nuts again!" Dave replied. "We'd only bea speck at that distance, even in glasses. It just happens that it's heading our way."
Freddy shrugged and made a little gesture with one hand.
"Have it your own way, old thing," he said. "It's heading right for us just the same. And if they haven't sighted us, they certainly will soon. There! See, Dave? Men are climbing out of the conning tower hatch onto the deck!"
"Yeah, I see," Dave replied gloomily. "Which means they must be pretty sure they've got this neck of the woods all to themselves. I wonder just how far we've drifted in twenty-six hours? I wonder where the Carson is? And how the others made out? I—Oh, nuts! What good does it do to wonder about anything right now? Heck! We couldn't change anything, anyway. That confounded seaplane, and the rats in her! Boy! Does that burn me up! I could kick myself all over this here Pacific Ocean!"
"Easy, old chap," Freddy said gently. "Don't let it get you down so, Dave. Good grief! What else could you have done?"
"Plenty!" Dawson said with an angry nod of his head. "I could have kept my eye on the ball, for one thing, and not let them get so close they could cut in with a few snap bursts. But no! I had to fall like a ton of brick for that moss-covered trick of getting a guy to look the other way when you're about to slug him. So help me! I'll feel like a chump for that if I live to be a million."
"Well, go ahead then!" Freddy said in exasperation. "But you're definitely silly to feel as you do. Besides, what does it matter now? There's a U-boat coming toward us, and they certainly see us, now."
Dave looked and saw the U-boat now less than a mile away.
"Too bad we didn't strip off one of your guns and take it with us, Freddy," he said. "With a machine gun we could dust off quite a few of those apes on the deck there. And—Hey! What gives now? That's a U-boat, sure enough, Freddy. But those guys on deck aren't Jerries. They're Japs, what I mean!"
"Yes, I know," the English youth replied. "Which proves the rumors that I've heard: that Hitler has loaned some of his U-boats to the Japs, some of his old ones."
"Well, that one's not old," Dave declared, and stared hard at the approaching undersea craft. "That's a new one, or I'll eat my shirt. That's a big baby, Freddy, very big. If it wasn't for the conning tower you'd almost take it for a destroyer. No wonder we could spot it wayover on the horizon. And—Oh-oh! Andhowthey spot us! Look at the rats!"
The last was caused by quick movements on the bow deck of the approaching U-boat. A machine gun had been set up, and the man behind it was training the gun on the floating raft. For a couple of seconds Dave's heart came up to jam hard against his back teeth, as he half expected to see fire spurt out from the muzzle of the machine gun, and to feel the hot sting of bullets biting into his flesh.
The gun did not fire, however, and presently the U-boat was practically on top of the raft. Dark blue garbed Japs seemed to be swarming all over the place, and Dave's hatred for them mounted to white fury as he watched them, agate-eyed. Then suddenly the head and shoulders of a bull-necked officer of the Nazi Navy appeared up out of the conning tower hatch. He put a small megaphone to his lips and bellowed the words across the water.
"Make any effort to resist, and you will be killed where you are!" he thundered. "Be sensible! We are taking you aboard. I warn you to keep your hands in sight!"
The man spoke almost perfect English, and both boys blinked in surprise.
"Yes, I would, if I only had a machine gun!"Dave grated under his breath. "Nothing I'd like better than to knock you and your little brown pals kicking."
"Shut up, Dave!" Freddy ordered him: "Stop trying to play blasted soldier. You know perfectly well you wouldn't shoot, even if you did have a gun. You'd be too thankful for the chance to get out of this raft, just as you are now. And you know it!"
"Okay, okay, let me up; I'm all cut!" Dave grunted at him. "Just the same, pal, I never did care much for U-boat rides."
"Well, I'm afraid we have no choice in the matter, old thing," Freddy sighed, and let the subject drop.
The U-boat was close to the bobbing raft now. And just as a matter of precaution both Dave and Freddy made very sure that they kept their hands in full view of all those aboard the undersea craft. The two Japs behind the deck mounted machine gun leered at them over the bead sight, and it was easy to see they wouldn't mind at all an order to pull the trigger. No such order was given, however, and a couple of moments later one of the Jap sailors caught hold of the raft with a boat hook, pulled it close, and the two youths clambered up onto the wet deck of the U-boat.
No sooner had they climbed up on deck than a couple of Jap Navy officers moved in on them quickly, and searched for weapons. They found none, and were obviously disappointed. Then a shrill order in sing-song Japanese snapped the look of disappointment from their slant-eyed faces. They grunted at the two boys and then nodded toward the conning tower bridge where the Nazi commander of the craft stood waiting. They went over and up the short companion ladder with a couple of Japs sticking conveniently at their heels. They halted in front of the bull-necked German, who eyed them as though he'd never seen a couple of white men in his life before. Which, of course, was quite possible, in view of the fact he was of German birth.
Then, suddenly, he exploded in a booming voice that almost blew the boys over.
"What's the name of your carrier?" he thundered. "And how long ago were you shot down?"
Dawson hesitated a moment, and then let him have it. In a very meek and humble voice, too.
"We weren't assigned to any special carrier, sir," he said. "We flew off any one of the five of them. And we've been in the water for about a week now. No, call it an even eight days."
The Nazi's eyes widened and he blinked themhard.
"What's this?" he cried.
Before he could get his breath to say anything else, one of the Jap naval officers stepped forward.
"He lies,Kommandant," he said in perfect German. "All American pigs lie. The United States have not five carriers left in all of their navy. Besides, we know these two were shot down by our plane yesterday."
The two words "our plane" had all of the effect on Dawson of a swift punch to the jaw. Impulsively he raced his eyes along the length of the U-boat, and particularly the forward end. It was then that he spotted telltale objects that told him the truth, and cleared up a little of the mystery of yesterday's meeting in the air with that strange seaplane. In short, he saw a plane hoist secured to the port side of the forward deck. It was fastened down in a horizontal position, but it could be raised upright at a moment's notice. He also saw that just about the entire forward deck consisted of two hatch covers that could be folded back to make a good sized opening in the deck. And although he could not look down through the steel plates to what was below, he had the very definite feeling that stowed neatly in the forward hold of theU-boat was that strange type seaplane with its wings folded back. Airplane-carrying submarines were nothing new to Dawson, or to Freddy Farmer, either. But it was a bit of a shock to realize that they had been shot down by such a craft. And, also, that they had been rescued by the mother U-boat of the plane.
"Yes, yes, I know!" Dawson heard the Nazi commander grunt impatiently at the Jap. "Of course our plane shot them down. But you do not know these American dogs as I do. Let them lie long enough and before they realize it they are telling you the truth. You will see what I mean. Well, take them to my quarters, and wait. This is a bad hour to remain on the surface too long. We will submerge at once."
The Nazi had spoken in German, and both Dawson and Freddy Farmer understood him perfectly. However, both were very careful not to let that fact show in their faces. As a matter of fact, they stared puzzle-eyed at the Nazi and then looked enquiringly at each other. The Nazi saw them do that and laughed harshly.
"Do not worry, swine," he spoke in harsh English. "When the Fuehrer is in your White House all of you American dogs will be taught to speak German. There will be but one language then. German!"
The Nazi nodded violently, and then snapped a glittering eye at the Jap naval officer as though inviting him to take issue with his words. The Jap, however, refused to take issue. He simply smiled politely and then motioned for Dave and Freddy to climb over the lip of the conning tower hatch and start down inside the boat. When they reached the bottom of the conning tower ladder which ended in the central control room, and nerve center of the U-boat, the Jap didn't give them so much as half a chance to look around. He had his gun out then, and he jabbed them both hard in the back and pointed aft. The pain from the jab made firecrackers go off in Dave's brain. And for one crazy instant he was tempted to wheel around and drive both fists into that slant-eyed, hateful face. Common sense, however, came to his rescue instantly and he checked the urge and went stumbling along in step with Freddy Farmer.
When they were about half-way aft along the narrow companionway, the Jap halted them and more or less pushed and shoved them into a fairly good sized cabin. The hundred and one different smells of the insides of a submarine were just as heavy and noticeable there as they had been in the control room. However, Dawson could not help gasping impulsively at theluxuriousness of the fittings and furnishings. He had been in other Nazi U-boats, but never in one in which the commander had fitted himself out so proudly as this one. For a second he wondered if the Nazis had been forced to "doll up" their U-boats to get commanders and crews to take them out on their hazardous voyages. On second thought, though, he decided that all this was simply a Nazi touch to impress their comrades in cold murder, the Japanese.
Just the same, the cabin was certainly well appointed, and Dave secretly hoped the Nazi would question them for quite some time so that he would have a good chance to relax and get a lot of the salt water and sun stiffness out of his joints. But he experienced a very rude awakening even as he was expressing that hope to himself and starting to sit down in one of the fancy chairs. The Jap's gun came out fast and cracked him hard on the side of the head.
"Dog!" the slant-eyed one screamed. "How dare you seat yourself in the presence of an officer of the Imperial Japanese Navy! Stand on your feet. Over there, by the door. Move a muscle and I will take greatest pleasure in shooting you."
With a tremendous effort Dawson forced back the surging, blazing anger that rose up in histhroat to choke him. Then he joined Freddy by the door and stood there with his gaze fixed hard and unwinking on the Jap. The little brown rat sneered and leered, and tried to stare Dawson down. He didn't even get to first base, though. And presently it was he who lowered his eyes. And so that was the picture as there came clanking sounds and roared out orders from various directions inside the U-boat. A moment later the craft trembled and shook from end to end. And Dave felt the deck under his feet slant as the craft dived and went under water.
Three, four, five minutes ticked by, and then the Nazi commander pushed through the door inside. He seemed surprised to see Dawson and Farmer standing stiff as a couple of wooden Indians by the door. He glanced sharply at the Jap, and made sounds under his breath. Then he went over and dropped his big frame into a chair, and sat regarding the two youths out of wide set eyes that held nothing but the look of death in them.