Sally Saw Two Sailors Carry Riggs Out
Sally Saw Two Sailors Carry Riggs Out
Sally Saw Two Sailors Carry Riggs Out
“Working. Thank God! Call this—one—seven—three—seven. Repeat it in code, three times.”
She put in the call. Then they waited. Suddenly, the radio began to snap.
“That’s their answer,” she said quietly.
“Tell them to send bombers. We’re being attacked by subs, this position.” He laid a paper before her.
She set the accelerator talking.
Again they waited.
Again came the snap-snap of code.
“Repeat,” she wired back.
The message was repeated. “Okay,” she wired. “They’re sending twenty bombers,” she said quietly.
“Good! What about Riggs?” the Captain asked.
“I wasn’t here. They carried him out,” said Sally.
“And Tobin?”
“He has two broken ribs,” was the quiet reply.
“I’ll send you a young second lieutenant. He knows radio.”
“We—we’ll make out.” Sally hated herself for stammering.
“Good!” He was gone.
Had the enemy gun crew had their way, Sally would by this time have been among the missing. But, thanks to the timely warning, all the men of the aircraft carrier had been at their posts when the sub appeared on the surface.
The instant the sub poked its snout out of the water the long noses of five-inch guns were being trained on it. The first enemy shot had crashed into the radio cabin, but every other shot went wild. One went singing over Sally’s head and another cut a stanchion not ten feet from where she stood, but she had worked on.
More and more guns were trained on the sub. A colored crew chanted: “’Mm, I got shoes, you got shoes, all God’s chillun got shoes.”
“Bang! Pass up another shell, brother. That un wrecked the conning tower. ’Ummm, I got shoes, you got shoes—”
Bang! One split second passed and there came a terrific explosion. The sub had blown up.
By this time the enemy’s plan was plain to see. This sub had been sent in to wreck the ship’s radio at once, then to sink her at their leisure. It would be impossible this way for the carrier to summon aid from land planes. It was true that this task might have been taken over by a cargo ship or a destroyer but before these ships could know of the need, it would be too late.
With the threat to his ship removed, the Captain ordered his planes off on a search for the remainder of the wolf-pack.
With a strange feeling at the pit of her stomach, Sally heard them take off one after the other.
“Fred and all his comrades,” she whispered. “What will the score be now?”
A youthful face appeared at the door. “I’m Second Lieutenant Burns,” said the boy. “I was sent to pinch-hit on the radio.”
“That’s fine!” Sally gave him her best smile. “You just look things over. If you want to give me a few moments off, it will be a blessing straight from Heaven.”
“Things happen pretty fast.” He smiled back at her.
“Too fast.” She was rocking a little on her feet.
“You were lucky at that.” He grinned. “I watched those shots. If it hadn’t been for that singing gun crew, one of those shells would have blown this cabin sky high.”
“But it didn’t.” Sally felt a little sick. “I’ll just get back to my secret radio for a moment,” she said.
“Okay, I’ll take over.” He settled down in his place.
The messages she picked up on her radio were a jumble of sounds. Every broadcaster of the enemy subs was trying to talk to every other.
“We got their leader!” she thought as her heart gave a triumphant leap. “Now they’re all looking for orders and getting none.”
Her hope for a quick and easy victory over this new and more powerful sub pack was soon dashed to the ground. In a very short time there came into the enemy broadcasts a firmer and more confident note.
“Oh!” Sally exclaimed. “Some other sub commander has taken charge of the pack! Now there will be a real fight.”
Soon enough the fliers who went out to the attack found this to be true. Warned, no doubt, by the experience of that other sub pack, these subs came in with only their periscopes showing. Fred, who carried a radioman who was also a gunner in his two-seated plane, searched the sea in vain for a full fifteen minutes. Then suddenly he caught over his radio a call for help from one of the tankers.
“We’re about to be attacked,” was the terse message.
Only twenty seconds from that very tanker, Fred swung sharply about, barked an order to his gunner, then moved in.
“There’s the sub!” the gunner shouted. “Over to the left.”
Sighting his target, Fred swung wide and low. Aiming at the white wake of the sub’s periscope he let go a depth bomb. It was a near hit and brought the sub to the surface but it seemed to the young flier that she came up shooting; at least, by the time they had swung back, the sub’s gun was barking.
“Hang onto your shirt,” Fred called to his gunner. “Get ready to mow ’em down, we’re dropping in on them.” At that he shot straight down two thousand feet, leveled off with a wide swoop, then sent a murderous hail of machine-gun bullets sweeping across the sub’s crowded deck. As they passed on, his gunner sent one more wild burst tearing at them.
On the sub men went down in rows. The sea was dotted by their struggling forms. Those who remained crowded down the conning tower. Then the sub crash-dived. For the time, at least, the tanker and its priceless cargo were saved.
But now there came a call from the big transport which carried a thousand men in khaki on its crowded decks. She too was about to be attacked. Sally, standing on the tower, watching, ready to blink signals, caught the message but could do nothing. The small English packet, theOrissa, also caught the message. Small as she was, and armed with but one gun, she moved swiftly in, cutting off the sub’s line of attack on the big transport.
As if angered, by this interference, the sub commander brought his sub to the surface, prepared to finish off the small ship with gunfire. But two can play with firearms. The packet carried a gun crew that had done service on many seas. The foam was hardly off the sub when a shell from theOrissablasted off one side of the sub’s conning tower. The shot was returned but without great harm. One more shot from theOrissa’splucky gunners and the sub’s gun was out of commission. Perhaps, after this beating, the sub’s commander planned to submerge and leave the scene of action. Whatever his plans might have been, they were never carried out, for a fighter from the aircraft carrier that had come to the rescue swung low to place a bomb squarely on the sub’s deck. TheOrissawas showered with bits of broken steel as the sub blew up with a great roar.
This was a good start but there were many subs, some of them very large. Without doubt they had received orders to get that convoy at any cost, for they kept coming in.
Fred and his partner, still scouring the sea, discovered a sub slipping up on one of the liberty ships. Swinging low they scored a near hit with a bomb. The sub’s periscope vanished. Was it a hit? They could not tell. One more miss and they were soaring back to their own deck for a fresh cargo of death.
Seeing them coming in, Sally handed her blinker to Nancy and raced down to find out how things were going.
“It’s bad enough,” was Fred’s instant response. “We’ve lost one plane to AA fire but the pilot bailed out and was picked up by a destroyer. A sub scored a hit on one of the liberty ships but it is all shored up and holding its own. If only those big bombers from England would come!” His brow wrinkled.
“Well, I’ll be seein’ you.” He climbed into his plane and was once more in the air.
“If only those big bombers would come!” Sally echoed his words as she returned to the tower.
Now, once again, a large sub, apparently assigned to the task, slipped in close to the aircraft carrier, and life on board became tense indeed. Two additional airplanes were thrown into the battle. One of these brought the sub to the surface with a depth charge. Sally drew in a deep breath as she saw the sub’s size. “Big as a regular ship,” she murmured to herself.
“And twice as dangerous,” said the young lieutenant who stood at her side.
The truth of this was not long in proving itself, for suddenly a shell went screaming past them and a second tore bits of the tower away.
But the sub was not having things all her own way. A daring young flier swooped low to pour a deadly fire across her bow. For a moment her guns were silenced, but no longer. This time she directed her fire skyward and with deadly effect. A fighter, some three thousand feet in the air, was hit and all but cut in two.
“Oh!” Sally exclaimed. “They got that plane.” She knew the plane and the boys who flew her. Now her eyes were glued on the sky. Her lips parted with a sigh of relief as a parachute blossomed in the sky. But where was the other one? It never blossomed. The plane came hurtling down to vanish instantly.
“If only those big bombers would come!” Sally’s cry was one of anguish. She could not stand seeing those fine boys go down to death.
Another shell sped across their deck. At the same time there came again the cry, “Torpedo off the port bow.”
Once more, with terror in her eyes, Sally watched a torpedo speed toward the broad side of their ship. This time it seemed it could not miss. But again came that strange hum, as the gun crew began to sing, “I got shoes, you got shoes.”
There was a splash close to the speeding torpedo, and another and yet another. It seemed impossible that any gun could fire so fast. And then an explosion rocked the ship. What had happened? Sally had looked away for the moment.
“That’s some gun crew,” the lieutenant exclaimed. “They just blew that torpedo out of the water.”
“Wonderful!” Sally exclaimed. “All the same, this can’t last. There are too many of those subs. I do wish the big bombers would come.”
As if in answer to her prayer, there came a great rumbling in the clouds that hung high over them in the evening sky and suddenly, as if it had seen all and had been sent to deliver them from the giant sub, a four-motored bomber came sweeping down. As Sally watched, breathless, she saw a dozen white spots emerge from the big bomber and come shooting down. It was strange. At first they seemed a child’s toy. Then they were like large arrows with no shafts, just heads and feathered ends. And then they were a line of bombs speeding toward their target. She watched, eyes wide, lips parted, as they hit the sea. The first one fell short, and the second, and third and then once more there was a roar.
“A direct hit!” the young lieutenant shouted. “That does it.”
When the smoke and spray had drifted away, Sally saw the giant sub standing on one end. Then, as the last rays of the setting sun gilded it with a sort of false glory, the sub slowly sank from sight.
“Oh!” Sally breathed. “How grand!” For all that there was a sinking feeling at the pit of her stomach. The men on that sub too were human, and some were very young.
They Watched Breathlessly as the Bomb Struck
They Watched Breathlessly as the Bomb Struck
They Watched Breathlessly as the Bomb Struck
Suddenly the sky was full of giant bombers and the air noisy with the shouts of thousands of voices welcoming the deliverers.
“Here,” Sally handed the blinker to Nancy, “take this. I’ve just thought of something that needs doing.” At that she sped away.
A moment later Sally was in her stateroom listening to the secret radio. The question uppermost in her mind at that moment was: How will the enemy subs take this new turn in the battle? She had the answer very soon; they were not taking it. At first there came a series of hurried and more or less jumbled messages from very close in. After that the enemy radio messages settled down and were spaced farther apart. Each new burst of “put-puts” came in more faintly, which meant that the subs were withdrawing.
When at last she was sure that, for the time, the fight was over, she hurried to the Captain’s cabin.
“The subs have withdrawn,” she announced.
“Good!” the Captain exclaimed. “How far? Are they still withdrawing?”
“That’s hard to tell,” Sally replied cautiously.
“They’ll withdraw for now,” he prophesied, “and come back to the attack at dawn. Their theory will be that the big bombers will have to return to their land bases.”
“Which they must.”
“That’s right. But there is no reason why they should not return at dawn if there is still work for them to do. Our enemy does not yet realize that, thanks to your secret radio, we can keep track of their movements. Perhaps we can catch them off guard at dawn and finish them. That,” the Captain added, “will depend on you and your secret radio.”
“It’s a terrible responsibility,” was the girl’s quiet reply, “but I accept it. I shall be listening, all through the night.”
That night will live long in Sally’s memory. She slept not at all. At all hours the headset was over her ears. At first there were few messages passing from sub to sub.
“They are sleeping,” she told herself. Then the lines of a very old poem ran through her mind:
At midnight in his guarded tent the Turk lay dreaming of the hourWhen Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, should tremble at his power.
At midnight in his guarded tent the Turk lay dreaming of the hourWhen Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, should tremble at his power.
“There will be no trembling,” she told herself stoutly. She knew that all had been arranged. If she reported that the subs were again moving in to the attack, the big land bombers would be notified and would return to surprise the wary foe. But would the subs attack? Only time could tell.
At the eerie hour of three in the morning, she began picking up messages, sent from sub to sub, some near, some far away.
“I think reinforcements are coming in,” she phoned the Skipper, who was at the bridge.
“Good! Then we will have more to destroy,” was his reply.
The hour before dawn came at last and with it the enemy subs, at least ten in number, slowly closing in. With a radio message sent to the mainland, they could but wait the dawn.
This time, confident of success and eager for the kill, the subs surfaced and came racing in. They were met by bombs from every plane the aircraft carrier could muster and from thirty land bombers as well. Their rout was complete, and the destruction, insofar as could be learned, was to them a great disaster.
Leaving the land-based bombers to finish the job, the convoy steamed on toward its destination.
CHAPTER NINETEENOH, DANNY BOY!
In the hours that followed every nerve was tense. They had won another battle but not without loss. The terrors of war at sea had come to stand out before every WAVE on board in sharper reality than ever before.
It was so with Sally and Nancy. They had volunteered for sea duty and, as long as their services in this capacity were required, there would be no turning back. The spirit of youth that had flowed in their veins as they boarded the ship only a few days before was being exchanged for sterner stuff.
Uppermost in the minds of all was the question of enemy subs. Twice they had been defeated, but the convoy they had hoped to destroy was priceless. Would they strike again?
Throughout one long, sleepless night both Sally and Nancy hovered over their secret radio. The “put-put-put” of strange enemy broadcasts was coming in constantly. There were still plenty of subs about. At first they appeared to be scattered far apart. But in time they seemed to be assembling for attack.
Every hour Sally reported to the Captain. In spite of the fact that it was impossible to tell the exact position of this sub pack, at three in the morning huge four-motored bombers, hovering overhead, were radioed a message and they went zooming away in the bright moonlight.
An hour later a message came in that they had surprised two large subs on the surface, probably engaged in charging batteries, and had sunk them both.
Just before dawn Sally, tired but happy, reported to the Captain:
“The loss of those two subs seems to have broken the pack up.”
“What’s happening now?” he asked.
“They’re spreading out. Their messages are fading.”
“Perhaps they have given it up and are heading for their home ports. If so, that’s good news. In less than twenty-four hours we shall be safe in port.”
“Oh! Happy day!” Sally exclaimed.
And it was indeed a happy day when, with her convoy, every precious ship of it safe, the aircraft carrier dropped anchor in a broad harbor. A small puffing tug came alongside to take members of the crew, who had been granted shore leave, to the dock. Among these were Sally, Nancy, Erma Stone, Riggs, and Mrs. Duke.
Sally, Nancy, and Danny’s mother stuck close together once they entered the streets of the only European city they had ever known.
“So this is merry England,” said Nancy. “It doesn’t seem very merry.”
And indeed it did not. A heavy fog hung over the city. The streets were narrow and dark. The people were poorly dressed. They seemed overworked and weary.
“They are merry in a way, all the same,” said Sally. “Take a look at their faces.”
Nancy did just that and was amazed. In every face was the glorious light of hope.
“How can you be happy after so many months of war?” Sally asked of a very old lady.
“Oh, the Americans are coming,” the cracked old voice replied. “You are an American, aren’t you?” she asked, peering at Sally’s blue uniform.
“Yes, of course. I’m a WAVE.”
“Oh! A lady soldier?”
“No, a lady sailor,” Sally laughed.
“Then you were in the convoy that just came in.” The woman’s voice dropped to a whisper. “How many of your ships did they get?”
Sally hesitated. She looked the woman over. She was English from head to toe. She was old and tired, hungry, too, yet she dared be cheerful. She wanted good news. Well, then, she should have it.
“Not a ship,” she whispered.
“Oh, then you brought us good luck,” the old woman cackled joyously. “You must come again and again.”
“I think I shall,” said Sally. “It’s been truly wonderful.
“And terrible,” she whispered to herself when the old woman had moved on.
Sally put a hand in her coat pocket, then laughed low. In that pocket was a present for someone.
A little farther on they overtook a small girl. She was thinly clad. Her thin face appeared pinched by the fog and cold.
“See, I have a present for you,” said Sally, taking her hand out of the pocket. In the hand were two hard-boiled eggs. She had saved them from her breakfast.
The girl’s eyes shone, but she did not take the eggs. Instead she grasped Sally by the hand. After leading her down a narrow alley, she opened a door in the brick wall, then stood politely aside while Sally, Nancy, and Mrs. Duke walked in.
“See, I Have a Present for You” Said Sally
“See, I Have a Present for You” Said Sally
“See, I Have a Present for You” Said Sally
The room they entered was a small kitchen. It was scrupulously clean. Beside a small fire on an open hearth stood the girl’s mother.
“Oh, you have brought us company, Mary!” she exclaimed. “These fine ladies from the boats. Won’t you be seated?” she invited.
“Oh, we won’t stay,” Sally smiled. “I offered Mary two eggs. I saved them just for her. Why didn’t she take them?”
“Two eggs in the middle of the month!” the mother exclaimed. “That is unheard of. One egg at the first of each month. That is all we are allowed.”
“But if the eggs are a present from America?” Sally insisted.
“Oh! That is different.” The woman’s face beamed.
“Then you and Mary shall each have an extra egg.” Sally placed them on the table.
“May God bless you.” The woman was close to tears.
“That,” said Danny’s mother, once they were on the street, “is why we came.”
“All those ships,” Sally exclaimed, “and all safe! I’ve been told that our convoy brought three shiploads of food.”
“Food will win the war,” said Nancy. “We’ll come again.”
Sally’s impatience grew with every passing hour. Why weren’t they heading back? Every hour’s delay seemed a crime, for Danny was still out there on the tossing sea. Or was he? She dared still to hope.
“We’ll be heading back just as soon as we take on fuel and get our clearance,” said the Captain. “I’m as anxious to be moving as you are.
“And once we get started, we’ll really make time. When it’s not hampered by a convoy, our ship can do close to thirty knots. We’ll steer a straight course. It won’t be long, once we are on our way.”
Sally did not say: “Long before what?” She knew he meant long before they reached the spot where Danny had last been seen.
“The Skipper never forgets one of his boys,” had been Riggs’s word for it. “And he never fails to do all he can for them.”
On the second day Nancy remained on board, but Sally and Danny’s mother once again went ashore.
“The time will pass quicker that way,” Mrs. Duke said.
“Yes, and while we are in England we should see all we can of the English people. The more we learn of them the more we’ll know the things we’re fighting for.”
By mid-afternoon they were ready for a rest. Seeing a throng entering a service club, they followed.
An entertainment was in progress. A group of Tommies was putting on an amusing skit about life on the African front.
When this was done, the band from Sally’s own ship came on the platform to give the English people a taste of real American swing tunes. They were received with hilarious applause.
Then a beautiful lady in a gorgeous costume mounted the platform and, as a pianist gave her the chords, began to sing. She had a marvelous deep voice. Being English and having known the cruel war as only the English people do, she sang with power and feeling. The song was entitled “Danny Boy.”
“Come on,” Sally whispered with something like a sob. “I can’t listen to all of that. Let’s get out.”
They did hear more, for as they moved down the aisle and out into the open air, the words were wafted back to them.
After walking away a little, they sat down on a bench at the edge of a narrow square. Neither spoke. There was no need. The rare, bright sun came out to bless them. From the harbor came the hoarse call of a ship’s whistle. Sally wished it were her own, but knew it was not.
Then, suddenly, another sound reached their ears, the rather high-pitched laugh that could only come from the throat of an American.
Sally looked back. It was Erma Stone who had laughed. Her arm was linked in that of an admiral. She had had a shampoo. Her suit was pressed. She “looked like a million” and was beaming on the admiral in a dazzling manner.
“Life is strange,” Sally whispered to her white-haired companion.
“Yes, child,” was the solemn reply. “Very, very strange.”
That night Sally was awakened by the throb of the ship’s motors. They were on their way back.
CHAPTER TWENTYA GLEAM FROM THE SEA
As she lay there in her berth, still too tired and dreamy to do more than think, all the events of the past few months seemed to pass in review before her mind’s eye.
She saw herself a normal young lady in a normal, slightly humdrum world, going her regular daily rounds, work at the shop during the day, dinner with her father at night, and after that an easy chair and a book, varied now and then by a party or a ride in the moonlight.
“Some life!” she whispered. Had it been? She did not really know. She found herself longing for it now in a dreamy sort of way. But would she be happy there now? She doubted that.
And then again she saw herself at the great airport, directing huge bombers and other planes to their places on the field. With Silent Storm as her guide, instructor, and friend, she had lived a happy life. The work she had been doing had been important, very important. One false move, one misdirected training bomber and a dozen fine young men from Colorado, Vermont, Illinois—might have gone crashing to earth.
“Silent Storm,” she whispered. “A grand friend. Barbara, a good, staunch pal. I am going back to them.” The speedy aircraft carrier seemed to fairly leap along, carrying her home to America.
“Shall I stay there always?” she asked herself.
To this question she found no certain answer. Probably she would not be the one to answer that question. This trip, made by a dozen WAVES, had been an experiment. Had it been successful? Would it be repeated? She could not tell.
She found herself hoping it might be, for the good of others as well as herself. The Captain had told her that on this trip his men had been happier, steadier, more contented than ever before.
“Ladies add a touch to every organization that can be had in no other way.” That was his way of putting it.
On shore in the harbor city many fine American boys were located. She had talked to some of them. One boy had said:
“You don’t know what it means to meet an honest-to-goodness American girl over here.”
“Why not?” she asked herself now, almost fiercely. “If the boys can die for their country, why not the girls as well? Thousands of good English women died in the terrible bombings, but the others never faltered.”
Yes, she was sure that she wanted to stay with the ship, to sail the sea, to do her bit, to fight and die if need be for her beloved land. But would they let her? Only time could tell.
After listening in vain for any sound of enemy subs, she drew on slacks, slippers, and a heavy bathrobe, and went out on the deck. As she passed along toward the ladder leading to the flight deck above, she saw gunners standing like wax statues by their guns.
“There won’t be any subs tonight,” she paused to whisper. “I have had my radio on for half an hour. Not a sound.”
“Perhaps not,” was the low response. “But the Skipper isn’t taking any chances.”
“Boy! We gave them subs plenty, comin’ over,” came from another statue. “I’ll bet we got twenty of them.”
“Not that many, Old Kentuck,” said another statue. “But plenty. And they say it’s on account of one of them WAVES having some queer sort of radio. Great little dame, I’d say.”
“Sure brought us a lot of luck!” said the first shadow.
“They haven’t recognized me!” Sally thought, feeling all sort of good inside. “And I won’t tell them. That would spoil it. I’ve always thought it would be fun to be famous, if nobody ever found it out.” Wrapping her robe a little more tightly about her, she climbed the ladder to the flight deck where she could get a better view of the sea.
The view was worth the climb. Riding high, the moon had painted a path of gold across the sea. They were heading into the wind. They cut across long lines of low waves. All this made the boat seem to race like mad over the sea.
“It won’t be long now,” she whispered. Then her heart sank. “Three days,” the Old Man had said. “Three days and we’ll be near the spot where Danny was last seen.”
“Oh, Danny Boy!” she sang softly. “Oh, Danny Boy!”
Something stirred. She turned about. Danny’s mother stood beside her.
“I—I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know you were there or I wouldn’t have sung it.”
“It was lovely,” the white-haired woman’s voice was low. “Out here where you can catch the full sweep of the sea, he seems very near tonight. I wish you would sing it all.”
So again, softly, Sally began to sing: “Oh, Danny Boy.”
“He is in God’s hands tonight, and God’s hands are good hands,” said the mother. “No matter whether Danny comes back or not, I want to stay with Danny’s ship—at least until the ship goes down to be with Danny.”
For some time after that they stood there in silence, looking away at the sea and at the path of gold that seemed to lead to Danny.
From that night on, to Sally, every throb of the great ship’s engines seemed to be the beating of a mighty heart, a throbbing that each hour brought them nearer to a spot where they might have a tryst with life or death.
On the second night, as she stood alone on the upper deck, now watching the dark waters swirl by, and now lifting her face to the sky where a million stars shone, she was joined by the Skipper.
“Captain,” she said after a few moments of talk, “where’s your lady yeoman? I haven’t seen her since we left port. Is she ill?”
“No-oo,” he rumbled. “Miss Stone isn’t with us anymore. I traded her to an admiral for a young man and two very fine old French etchings. I like the etchings. They just hang on the wall and don’t say a thing.” He laughed in a dry sort of way.
“But Miss Stone must have been a good yeoman. She gave up a very fine position to join the WAVES,” Sally suggested.
“Yes, that’s true, she did. But in this man’s war, in fact any war, it’s not the wonderful things you have done in the past; it’s what you can do now that counts.
“‘Not to the strong is the battle,’” he quoted. “‘Not to the swift is the race, but to the true and the faithful.’
“The faithful, always the faithful, Sally,” he repeated. “Most of the girls we took on trial have been very fine. You, Sally, and your pal, Nancy, may stay on my ship as long as she flies the Stars and Stripes and sails the seas. I’ll even offer you the honor of going over her side with me when the subs get her and she prepares to sink beneath the waves.”
“They’ll never get her,” Sally declared stoutly, “but, Captain, I wish to thank you from deep in my heart. Those are the finest words I’ve ever heard spoken.”
“They were spoken from the heart, Sally.”
For a time after that they were silent, then Sally spoke in a deep voice:
“Captain, do you really think we’ll find Danny?”
“Only time will tell. We have taken account of wind and tide, done everything we could. When we think we have located the approximate spot, we’ll heave to and send out a full complement of planes to search for him.”
“But the storm?” she whispered hoarsely. “It seems impossible.”
“From reports I have received, I am led to believe that the storm may not have passed over Danny’s part of the ocean. It was a tropical storm, violent in intensity, but narrow in scope.”
“Oh!” she breathed. “If that is only true. If it is—”
“It won’t be long now, Sally. Tonight we’ll say a prayer for Danny.”
“Let’s do,” she whispered.
“Captain,” she spoke again, “when the planes go out on the search, may Danny’s pal, Fred, fly a two-seater and may I ride in the second seat?”
“Yes, Sally, you just tell Fred I said he must take you for luck.”
A few moments later she was back in her quarters, saying her prayer for Danny.
The hour came at last when, on a wide open sea, the big ship came to a halt, turned half about to give the planes the advantage of the wind, then stood by while, one by one, they roared away.
“This is the beginning of the end,” Sally thought as she strapped on her parachute. Would it be a sad or a happy ending? She dared not hazard a guess. She did not dare to hope.
Their plane was slower in its upward climb than any that had gone before.
“Our plane seems tired,” she said to Fred.
“That’s because I’m carrying an extra gas tank lashed to the fuselage,” he explained. “We may not find Danny, but we’ll be the last ones back from the search.”
After sailing aloft, they began to circle, while with powerful binoculars Sally searched the sea for some sign, a speck of white, a dark, drifting object, just anything that spoke of life.
As the moments passed, their circle grew ever wider. Slowly, the big ship faded into the distance.
From time to time, with eager eyes, Sally lifted her glasses to scan the sky and count the planes slowly soaring there. She hoped against hope that one of these might show some sign of an all important discovery, but still they circled on.
At last she saw them, one by one, start winging their way back toward the carrier.
“Their gas is about gone,” said Fred.
“Will they refuel and come back?” Sally asked. There was a choke in her voice and an ache in her heart.
“I don’t know,” was the solemn reply. “That’s up to the big chief.”
“Danny’s out here somewhere,” she insisted. “He just must be.” Still they circled on.
Suddenly Sally cried: “Look! Fred! Way off there to the left! There’s a bright gleam on the water!”
“A sun spot,” was the quiet response. “We often see them on the water. You don’t think Danny would set fire to his raft, do you?”
“No, but Fred!” She gripped his arm in her excitement. “I read about it in a magazine.”
“Read what?”
“About some chemical. I can’t remember the name. When you pour it on the water it throws back the light of the sun, makes the water shine.”
“Never heard of it.”
“Oh! Yes, Fred! It’s true! At first the chemical didn’t work so well. It disappeared too soon, but they mixed it with other chemicals, then it lasted for a long time. They were going to put small bottles of it on the rubber rafts. It just must be true!” She pounded him on the back.
“We’ll soon know.” He headed the plane toward that gleaming spot.
For a time the light gleamed brightly, then it began to fade.
“Oh, it can’t fail us!” Sally whispered. “It just can’t! It’s our last chance.”
And it did not fail them, for, as Sally watched through her binoculars, a dark spot appeared at the center of the fading light.
“It’s Danny!” she cried. “It just has to be!”
And it was. The small bottle of chemicals was not a dream but a blessed reality. Danny had discovered it and had used it at just the right time.
As they circled low, he stood up and waved excitedly.
Fred got off a message to the boat. They promised to send a fast power boat to the spot at once. After that there was nothing left to do but circle over the spot and wait.
As Sally’s eye caught the gray spot that was the rescue boat, a sudden impulse seized her.
“Fred, I’m going to jump,” she said.
“What? Take to the parachute? Why? We’ve got plenty of gas for getting back to the ship.”
“All the same I’m going to jump. I want to be with Danny when the boat arrives. Nothing will happen to me. I’ve done it before.” Sally pulled off her shoes.
“All right,” he agreed. “But wait until the boat is almost here.”
Impatiently Sally waited. At last she said, “Now! Here I go!”
Over the side she went. She pulled the ripcord. The parachute opened, then she went drifting down. Her aim had been good. She hit the water not a hundred yards from Danny’s raft.
After releasing herself from her parachute she went into the Australian crawl and soon was there at the raft’s side.
Danny would have welcomed anyone after his long days on the sea, but to have Sally drop from the sky seemed too good to be true. Danny’s pet sea parrot, however, was not so friendly. He had become very fond of Danny, particularly fond of his dried fish. He didn’t propose to have anyone come between him and Danny, so, with his vice-like beak, he had taken a firm grip on one of Sally’s pink toes.
By the time Danny had settled the quarrel between Sally and his pet, the boat was at their side.
“Danny, are you all right?” his mother cried from the boat.
“Oh, sure! Fit as a fiddle, and I have lots more brain cells. I’ve been living on fish.” He laughed gaily.
When the raft, the pet sea parrot, all Danny’s dried fish and, of course, Danny and Sally, had been taken aboard, the boat headed for the carrier.
“Danny,” Sally asked, “how did you ever ride out that storm?”
She Hit the Water Near Danny’s Raft
She Hit the Water Near Danny’s Raft
She Hit the Water Near Danny’s Raft
“That? Why that was easy,” was his smiling reply. “You see, I didn’t really get the worst of it, just the aftermath, big rolling waves, high as a church, just rolling and rolling. I went to the top of one, slid down its side, then started up another. Talk about your roller coaster. Say! That’s tame!”
Needless to say, both Sally and Danny ate at the Captain’s table that night. When Danny had told of his glorious fishing expedition, when Sally had added the story of the rescue, and the sea parrot had screamed his approval, the applause that followed made the bulkheads ring.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONEDREAMS
The moment they were tied up at the dock in their home port Captain MacQueen got in touch with Silent Storm.
“I understand you know this inventor C. K. Kennedy,” he said over the phone. “How well do you know him?”
“Quite well, I think,” was Storm’s modest reply.
“Fine,” said MacQueen. “How about having dinner with my friend, Sally, and me tonight?”
“That will be a pleasure,” said Silent Storm, sensing at once that something big regarding Sally’s secret radio was in the offing. “But why don’t we have the dinner at my house? It’s quiet and very secret.”
“That’s okay with me,” was the prompt reply.
“Make it seven o’clock,” said Storm.
“Sally and I will be there.” And they were.
When Sally had enjoyed one more delightful dinner in the Storm home she was led away once more to Silent Storm’s secret den. There, over black coffee, the three of them talked over the future.
“I have asked you to take a part in this,” Captain MacQueen said to Storm, “because you are an old friend of C. K. Kennedy and will, perhaps, know the best manner in which to approach him. This matter of the secret radio is one of great importance. And we cannot forget that he alone holds the secret of its extraordinary performance.”
“You overestimate my influence,” was Storm’s reply. “Wouldn’t Sally do quite as well?”
“Perhaps,” the Captain admitted, “but in battles of major importance I bring up all my forces. What I want to propose is that Sally, you, and I take a plane to Washington—our ship is to be tied up long enough for this—that we pick up a rather important Government man there, and that we then go on to Sally’s home town to interview Kennedy. What do you think of that, Sally?”
“Sounds all right to me,” said Sally. “I agree with you that Major Storm will be a great help.”
“How about it, Storm?” said the Captain. “Can you arrange for the time off?”
“Oh, beyond a doubt it can be arranged,” said Storm.
“Then we are all set.” Captain MacQueen heaved a sigh of relief.
The rest of that evening was given over to telling of the aircraft carrier’s journey and the important part the secret radio had played in the winning of her battles. When he had heard the story Silent Storm was more than eager to accompany them on their journey to the home of the great inventor.
“One thing must be understood from the start,” he said as the Skipper and Sally prepared to leave. “That is that I am a real friend of old C. K. and of Sally as well. If there are negotiations going on for old C. K.’s secret, I shall act, in a way, as his lawyer.”
“And you will see that he is treated fairly,” said the Captain.
“Not only that, but I shall see that he knows that he is being treated fairly,” Storm amended.
“That’s just what I had hoped for,” the Captain agreed.
The very next day, with Danny as co-pilot for a big twin-motored plane, they set off on their journey. Twenty-four hours later they were knocking at the door of the modest shop where the secret radio had first seen the light of day.
“Sally!” the aged inventor exclaimed at sight of her. “I’m glad to see you! But how is it that you are back so soon?”
“These men can tell you more about that than I can.” Sally was beaming. “You know Major Storm.”
“Oh, yes indeed!” The two men shook hands.
The other men were introduced and then, seated on rustic benches and chairs, they told the delighted old man the story of his secret radio.
“Sally, you have done all that I hoped and much more,” he exclaimed. There were tears in his eyes. “I shall never forget.”
“That’s just fine,” said Sally, rising a bit unsteadily to her feet. “I—I’m glad you are happy. And now I am going to leave you men to finish the business of the hour. I promised to show Danny our river.”
“Danny?” the old man laughed happily. “So you’ve got you a Danny? Well then, run along. I wouldn’t keep you for the world.”
After a long, delightful tramp over the river trail, Sally and Danny came to rest on a rustic bench overlooking the river.
“It’s really slow and peaceful,” Sally murmured.
“I’ll say it is, after what we’ve gone through,” Danny agreed. “My hands fairly ache for the controls of my plane.”
“Hands,” said Sally, with a sly smile, “are sometimes used for other purposes.”
“That’s right, they are,” Danny exclaimed, seizing Sally’s hand. Sally didn’t mind, so they sat there for a time in silence.
Then came the sound of voices. “They are looking for us,” said Sally. “Time for a crash landing.” She pulled her hand away.
“So here you are!” Captain MacQueen said a moment later.
“Well, folks,” said Silent Storm, “everything is arranged. The Government gets the secret radio and your old-friend C. K. gets a liberal payment.”
“And you, Sally, are to receive half of it,” said the Captain.
“What!” Sally sprang to her feet. “Why! That’s unfair!”
“He didn’t see it that way,” Storm replied quietly. “He felt that you have done more than he to make the radio a success. I advise that you accept his offer and allow things to stand as they are. It is for the good of your country as well as yourself, and there will be plenty for you both, I assure you.” Sally settled back in her place.
“Well,” she admitted, “it will be a good opportunity to help my country in another way. I’ll invest it in War Bonds right away. C. K. will really be aiding our nation in that way, then, too.”
“Yes,” said the Captain, “that is true. Kennedy wants you to have the bungalow you have always dreamed of, when peace has come again.”
“Won’t that be sweet?” Sally said, turning to Danny with a teasing smile. Danny said never a word.
“And C. K. wants you to come back to work with him as soon as the war is over,” Storm said with a grin.
Once more Sally turned to Danny. This time he spoke. “That,” he said, “will need a lot of thinking about.”
And so, for Sally, life seemed fairly well begun.