some five thousand feet of air under the wings.
"What suits me?" the English youth echoed back. "This plane, or your
flying, or what? Of course, if you mean your flying, why--"
"Save it, sweetheart, save it!" Dave growled. "No. This pip of a plane,
and _my_ expert flying, go without saying. What I meant was, how does
this Jap hunt shape up to you?"
"Could be worse, I fancy," Freddy replied. "Truth to tell, though, I
could do with a whole lot more details. The colonel didn't say very
much, you know."
"Well, for cat's sake, what else could he say?" Dawson demanded.
"Somewhere in an area of about a hundred thousand square miles is
supposed to be a big Jap force on its way south to make plenty of
trouble. Maybe it isn't going south. The colonel doesn't know. Or
anybody else, for that matter. However, the colonel can't take chances
on our Guadalcanal and Tulagi attack going haywire. I mean, having this
Jap force bump into them right at the beginning of the attack. See what
I mean?"
"Rot!" Freddy snorted. "As if a ten-year-old child couldn't reason
_that_ out? Certainly! Of course, you silly blighter. Naturally the
colonel doesn't know _where_ this Jap force is. But I meant, more
details on how, and when, and how long we're to patrol, and stuff? He
only touched on that part by saying that we're to find the Jap force."
"Okay, okay, fire horse!" Dave grunted. "Just be patient. I promise you,
I'll refuse to take off on a single patrol until your craving for
details is completely satisfied. Will that be all right, fussy pants?"
Freddy Farmer made some remark, but Dave didn't hear it. He didn't
because at that moment he heard the call signal from the carrier in his
earphones. He answered at once, and his heart started hammering against
his ribs as the crisp spoken orders came through from the carrier far
below and several miles to the north of his position.
"Proceed due east from your position, Tiger!" the carrier officer said,
using the Dauntless' code name. "Scout for unidentified aircraft.
Proceed at full throttle. If it is an enemy aircraft, attack and destroy
at once. Repeat! Attack and _destroy_ at once!"
"Orders received and understood, Swordfish!" Dawson called back
instantly. "On course, now!"
As Dave had spoken the words he had heeled the Dauntless around on
wingtip, opened up the Cyclone wide, and was now streaking across the
Southwest Pacific sky toward the east. Their headphones being connected,
Freddy Farmer had heard the orders at the same time. And so, naturally,
he asked no questions about Dave's sudden and violent maneuver. As a
matter of fact he said nothing. He simply sat tight in his pit, and like
Dave riveted his eyes on the eastern sky ahead.
The east was a little smudgy because night was approaching. Also there
were some cloud banks hanging in the sky that cast all kinds of crazy
shadows. As a matter of fact, half a dozen times Dawson was dead sure he
spotted the shadow of a moving plane hugging close to the clouds. But
each time he opened his mouth to call out to Freddy Farmer the "shadow"
just melted away into nothing.
Eventually, though, Freddy Farmer's eagle eyes scored a hit on something
that wasn't just a shadow that melted away the next time he looked. He
called out sharply to Dave, and pointed with his hand.
"A lone aircraft ahead and about ten degrees to starboard, Dave!" he
announced. "See it? Just under that cloud that's shaped like a pear. See
it? See...? By Jove, Dave, get us more speed! That's a blasted Jap
snooper! Good grief! And this far south? Wait! Yes, Dave, yes! It is one
of their four-engined Kawanishi flying boats, just as sure as you're a
foot high. Blast them! Way down here snooping on us!"
For some four or five seconds Dawson didn't make any reply. He leaned
forward in the seat, as though that would aid his vision, and stared
hard at the heavens ahead and ten degrees to starboard. But for those
number of seconds he couldn't see a single thing that increased his
heart beat. Then, suddenly, he did see it. He saw the huge four-engined
long range flying boat type of craft that the Japs had copied from the
type of flying boat that the French had used before the war on the mail
and passenger run between Dakar and Brazil. Now that he could see it he
was amazed that he hadn't seen it much sooner because of its tremendous
size. The wing span was a good one hundred and thirty-two feet, and the
hull made him think of a good sized destroyer. And as he peered at it
and impulsively tried to force the Dauntless on to even greater speed by
pressing the heel of one palm hard against the already wide open
throttle, he realized without getting any closer that the huge flying
boat was well armed.
"Don't you see it yet, Dave?" Freddy Farmer's voice cut into this
thoughts. "It's just under--"
"Don't worry; I spot it, eagle eyes!" Dawson cut him off. "I'm just
selecting which part of it to smack first. Come snooping down here on
us, huh? Not today, my little Jap rats. At least, not any more. Just
another couple of shakes, now, and you're going to only have eyes that
are blind! And how!"
CHAPTER SEVEN
_Discovered?_
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, the Kawanishi 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
off to 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 was _left_ of 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 first burst. 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 did _you_ expect?" 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 in your 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 radio _on that
Kawanishi_ that 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, _did_ they get word back about the Hawk and the
Carson, or didn't they? I bet Colonel Welsh 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 hoping it
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 started along 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 Admiral were 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 planes based
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.
CHAPTER EIGHT
_Eagle's Eyes_
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 pair of 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 curtains over 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 to Freddy 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 guess that'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 are _not_ to make radio contact with this task force _unless
you sight Jap surface units of three or more ships in number_. One
reason for that is to prevent any Japs from listening 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 absolutely _got_ to 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."