foot cautiously in front of the other. "I guess this place is empty, so
we might as well sit on the deck and try to be comfortable. Come on over
here, Freddy. We can use this bulkhead wall for a back rest. We _are_ in
a jam, Freddy!"
The English-born air ace didn't speak until both of them were sitting on
the smooth steel deck and were leaning back against the bulkhead wall.
Then he sighed, and groaned softly.
"Quite!" he muttered. "A blasted awful mess, too. It makes me ill to
think of what they said. Man! Dave! The blighters _know_ about our plans
to attack Guadalcanal. I thought I'd choke when I heard that. That's
bad, you know, Dave."
"You're telling me, son?" Dawson echoed. "It's worse than that. But it
doesn't help much to groan about it. What worries me is what's going to
happen when that ten cent Jap dumps us in Suicide Sasebo's lap? We had
that thick-headed Nazi believing us about our forces being way up
north. I thought for a moment--that is, I hoped that--Aw, nuts! We
couldn't hope to work a break _that_ good!"
"We may yet," Freddy Farmer remarked after a long moment of silence. "If
we could only just get this Sasebo to believe that there is nothing
south of him, and that all our naval and air forces are way up north and
about to strike at Japan direct, then--"
The English youth suddenly seemed to realize he was reaching for stars,
and let the rest trail off into silence.
"And get him to change his plans and go high balling with his whole
force north for another one of his pet suicide ventures?" Dave more or
less finished for him. "Sure, pal, that would be tops. It would be
almost as good as if we could dive right out through these steel plates
and swim to the Carson and tell Admiral Jackson the exact location of
Suicide's force moving south."
"Yes, absolutely!" Freddy grunted. Then, after a slight pause, he added,
"And the truth of the matter is that I _could_ tell Admiral Jackson
where Sasebo's force is, _if_ I could get to him."
Dawson gasped, choked, and gaped toward his pal in the pitch darkness.
"Whoa, pal!" he cried. "That clout on the head _did_ send you spinning.
Take it easy, kid!"
"Take it easy, nothing!" Freddy replied hotly. "I _could_, Dave. And if
you'd used your eyes, you'd have learned what I did!"
"The--the location of Suicide's force?" Dawson asked incredulously.
"Exactly!" Freddy told him firmly. "At least what it was at ten o'clock
this morning. It was One Hundred and Forty degrees West, and Five
degrees North. I saw the position marked on the desk chart in that
Nazi's cabin. And do you know what _that_ means, Dave?"
"Well, I'll be a bowlegged son of a gun!" Dawson gulped out in awed
admiration. "Kid Bright Eyes to the rescue again. Boy! I sure hand it to
you when it comes to coming through in the clinches! Just like that he
learns what Admiral Jackson's whole force wants to know. Holy smokes!"
"And a fine lot of good it does me to know, locked up in this blasted
steel closet!" Freddy Farmer groaned. "But I asked you, do you know what
that means? Do you happen to know where One Forty West and Five North
happens to be?"
"Huh?" Dawson echoed. "Where?"
"I noticed it on the chart, of course," Freddy replied. "It happens to
be a good hundred miles _west_ of the area our planes have been
searching. In other words, Colonel Welsh and Admiral Jackson are not
going to find the Japs in the area they're searching. Sasebo is well
west of them. So he didn't go south, as was reported. He moved west from
Truk for almost five hundred miles and _then_ turned south. And as of
ten o'clock this morning he was heading for Jap-held New Guinea. And--"
"Jumping jeepers!" Dawson broke in with a gasp. "So that's it? He's
going to slip through between New Guinea and New Britain and catch our
attacking force on Guadalcanal from the south? Cut our supply lines to
shreds, and then follow through with a main attack on whatever our boys
have gained. Good night! That'll be a heck of a note, Freddy!"
"Quite, and definitely!" the English youth replied with a faint tremor
in his voice. "Either that, or he'll go all the way around the western
end of New Guinea, and split his forces. Half to cut off our forces on
Guadalcanal, and half to make a sea and air attack against perhaps
Darwin on the northern side of Australia. Who knows _what_ that cunning
devil has up his sleeve? And to think we know where his confounded
force is! Man! I could shoot myself in despair!"
"Here, cut that out, pal!" Dave snapped. "Get that old chin up. We're
still alive, and that's something."
"You wouldn't care to tell me how much, would you?" the English youth
grunted.
"No, I guess not," Dawson said with a chuckle. "But you get the idea
just the same. But, boy, oh boy! If we only could get word to Colonel
Welsh and Admiral Jackson. Darn it, Freddy! We've got to, somehow. We've
just got to!"
"No doubt of it," Freddy mumbled gloomily in the darkness. "But how?
That's the stickler, old thing. _How?_"
"I don't know," Dawson murmured. "But maybe we'll get some kind of a
break. If we don't, we'll just have to make one, that's all. This Jap
rat who shot us down, I wonder how he figures to fly us to Suicide's
force?"
"That one is easy," Freddy Farmer sighed. "You'll see. Tied hand and
foot, and jammed down into the rear pit of that seaplane like a couple
of sardines, I fancy. No, I don't think I'm looking forward to that
particular airplane ride."
"Yeah, like a couple of helpless sardines, probably," Dave murmured.
"Yes, I guess I can think of more comfortable flights I've had, too.
Oh, well, a guy can always hope."
And with that listless comment Dave lapsed into brooding silence, and
Freddy Farmer joined him. For quite some time neither of them spoke.
What was there to say, anyway? What was there to say that hadn't already
been spoken? Absolutely nothing. And so it was better just to sit and
keep one's thoughts to oneself. What the future would bring it would
bring, and that was that!
After a long, long spell of mutual silence a sudden change in the
movement of the U-boat told them both that the undersea craft was going
up to the surface. Dawson grunted and sat up a little straighter.
"Up we go," he grunted. "So things will be happening soon."
"Can't say I'd be mad if said things were bombs dropping on this thing
from a chance plane or two of ours!" Freddy Farmer growled. "The way I
feel right now, I don't think I'd mind at all. Oh, blast it! I guess
that gun slap from that Jap rotter did do something to my nerve. I feel
in an awful funk, Dave."
"Swell, perfect, pal!" Dave said with a chuckle. "Keep right on feeling
that way, and everything will be okay."
"Not much it will!" the English youth grated. "And what the deuce do you
mean by that crack, anyway?"
"I mean that I've seen you like this before, and plenty!" Dawson told
him, and squeezed his arm in the darkness. "And those other times you
just hauled back and knocked 'em high, wide and handsome. So it's okay
by me, kid. Very much okay. You'll get us some action, if I don't."
"Thanks, old thing," Freddy said with a faint huskiness in his voice.
"And I am a rotter to try and drag you down, too. Sorry no end, Dave.
I'll try and buck up and not be such a wet wack."
"Wet _smack!_" Dave corrected with a laugh. "Holy smokes! Aren't you
ever going to learn to speak the language, huh?"
The English youth grunted, but before he could make any reply to that
there came the final lurching motion as the U-boat broke surface, and
even in their steel-walled prison they could hear the sounds of feverish
activity. A moment or two later they could tell that the U-boat was
motionless on the surface. And then more sounds, the whine and grind of
turning gears, caused them to guess that the small seaplane was being
hoisted up out of its hold hangar.
Suddenly, Dave began to chuckle softly. And Freddy Farmer peered at him
in the darkness.
"What's wrong with you, Dave?" he asked, "What's so blasted funny?"
"I was just thinking," Dawson replied. "Remember that stuffed shirt
ground major at the Broome field in Australia?"
"The one whose feet you dusted off with the prop-wash of the plane?" the
English youth echoed. "Yes, I remember him. What about him?"
"I was just thinking," Dave said. "Maybe I gave that chump the right tip
after all. Maybe he went dancing into his C.O.'s office with the real
dope, and got tossed out for passing around such a cockeyed rumor."
"Yes, maybe you did at that," Freddy Farmer said soberly. "If Suicide
Sasebo does strike at Australia, you will have given the tip-off days in
advance, only you didn't know it. But I can't see anything to laugh
about!"
"Okay, sober sides, I guess you're right," Dawson muttered. "But I sure
could do with a good laugh, right about now. I--Oh-oh! I suspect here
comes company. Watch it, Freddy. And hang on hard, pal."
"Right-o, Dave!" the English youth breathed. "Be right in there with
you, old thing."
Freddy had hardly got the words off his lips when a key grated in the
door lock and the door was kicked open with a crash. Pale light
instantly poured into the room, and for a moment Dave and Freddy could
see only blurred silhouettes in the companionway outside. Presently
their eyes focussed to the change of light and they saw the Jap naval
officer and two Jap seamen leering at them. The officer was dressed for
flying. In his hand he carried his ever present gun. And each of the
sailors carried a coil of thin, tough line.
"Turn around, and face the other way!" the Jap officer suddenly hissed
at them.
For a split second the two youths hesitated as red waves of rebellion
surged up in them. But in that same split second they realized that any
show of resistance would be the same as putting a gun to their heads and
pulling the trigger. They were as helpless as a couple of caged
sparrows, and to do anything about it would be plain, downright
stupidity. And so they slowly turned around and suffered themselves to
be trussed up hand and foot by the two Jap sailors.
And suffer they did, in every sense of the word. It was a joy to those
two sons of heathens to have the opportunity to tie up two white men,
and they went about their tasks with savage glee. And the Jap officer,
standing to one side with his gun ready, took almost as much joy in the
operations as they did. For Dawson and Freddy Farmer it was terrible
torture to both mind and soul. The loops of the thin, tough line were
yanked so tight that they felt like cords of white fire burning into
their flesh. Then long before the two Jap seamen had completed the job
the feeling of burning bands of white fire disappeared. There was just a
dull, throbbing numbness in their legs and in their arms. And as the
final fiendish touch the end of the line was looped about their necks,
and drawn back tight and tied so that every time they moved their heads
the loop bit into their throats and choked off their wind.
Finally, through the pounding in his ears, Dawson heard the Jap officer
scream something in his native tongue. Then he felt himself being lifted
up and slung across one of the Japs' shoulders like a sack of wet meal.
And he could not keep track of just exactly what happened after that.
All the bombs in the world were exploding in his brain. His lungs were
on fire, and his thumping heart was pounding its way out through his
ribs. He seemed to lose control of the movement of his eyeballs. They
kept rolling back up into his brain, and vision was impossible.
Everything was just a surging ocean of red waves. In a crazy abstract
sort of way he wondered if he had lost consciousness. He decided he
hadn't, otherwise he wouldn't be thinking such a jumble of thoughts.
Then, suddenly, instinct told him that he was falling. He tried to cry
out in alarm, but there was no sound of his own voice in his ringing
ears. There was just the wild, angry jabbering of Japanese. A tiny
thought whipped through his brain to tell him that his Jap seaman had
missed his footing and was lunging downward. And the instinct of
self-preservation caused him to strain at his bonds. And that was the
very last thing he remembered. The whole world blew up in that instant
and he went sailing off into a great void of utter silence and
darkness.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
_Haywire Nerves_
From a long way off came the faint rumble of sound. It grew louder and
louder, and took on the steady, rhythmic beat of powerful engines giving
of their best. Every so often a different sound broke through the
rhythmic beat, but it faded out almost instantly, and the steady beat
continued on forever--and ever--endlessly.
Seconds, minutes, and years dragged by, and then Dave Dawson was
conscious of the fact that the rhythmic beat came from all about him,
and that his body was absorbing the vibration of it. Not yet did it
occur to him to try to move, or even to open his eyes. As a matter of
fact, either of those physical accomplishments was far beyond his
powers. And he continued to remain in a befuddled world of rhythmic
beats, vibration, and darkness.
And then, suddenly, there was light all around him. But a few extra
seconds ticked by before his half frozen brain could grasp the fact that
his eyes had more or less automatically opened and that he was staring
up at a light grey-painted ceiling and walls, and that up off to his
left there was a round window through which light was pouring. He saw
the ceiling, the grey-painted walls, and the round window, and although
they registered upon his brain individually, they meant nothing to him
as a whole.
More years dragged by, and the thought finally came to him to move his
legs and his arms. He did so, but the pains that shot through his
sturdy, youthful body caused him to gasp and groan, and relax completely
to wait for the film of red to pass from his eyes. And when it did he
saw the strained, anxious face of Freddy Farmer bending over him. The
English youth's lips moved, and the words just barely seeped through
Dawson's ears.
"Dave, old man, look at me! Speak to me, Dave! Are you all right? Oh,
blast those devils! Dave! Come out of it. It's Freddy! This is Freddy
Farmer. Your pal. _Dave!_"
A tiny spark was touched off in Dawson's brain, and the flame from it
seemed to start strength surging through him. He licked his lips,
swallowed, and gulped. Hardly realizing he was doing so, he pushed
himself up onto one elbow. Then Freddy caught him around the shoulders
and eased him up to a sitting position.
"Thank God!" the English youth sobbed. "Good grief, Dave, I thought you
were a goner for sure!"
"What--what happened?" Dave mumbled, and the effort to speak made his
throat burn. "What happened? Did we crash--or something? Bail out--and
forget to pull the rip-cord, huh?"
"That blasted Jap!" Freddy Farmer grated. "He slipped, and you went
crashing down on the deck on your head. Man! I was sure you had been
killed right then and there!"
Dawson blinked hard, put his finger tips to his temples and pressed as
though he could push away the fog that clouded his brain.
"Jap?" he muttered thickly. "I fell on my head? What Jap, Freddy? What
are you talking about? I haven't got a head. I've got _two_ of them.
Split right down the middle. And--Hey! What gives? What's this place?
Where the heck are we? What in thunder has happened, Freddy?"
Freddy Farmer didn't answer, because he wasn't there. He had moved away
somewhere. But he returned almost immediately and held a glass of water
to Dawson's lips. The Yank ace drank greedily, and the cold water did
wonders for the burning in his throat. It also helped to drive the fog
from his brain, and give him more strength in both mind and body.
"Thanks, pal!" he gasped when he had drained the glass of its last drop.
"You're a lifesaver, what I mean, kid. Thanks, plenty. Now, what in the
world has happened?"
But even before Freddy Farmer could form the words with his lips, a
little door in Dawson's brain seemed to pop open and vivid memory came
rushing back to him.
"My gosh, I catch!" he cried. "We had been trussed up by those Japs, and
they were carrying us up onto the deck of that U-boat! That Jap rat
officer was going to fly us to the Suicide Sasebo's flagship. What
happened? Did the dirty bums change their minds? And hey! We're not
aboard any U-boat now! Or are we?"
"If you'll only shut up!" Freddy Farmer barked, but there was great joy
glistening in his eyes. "Just keep that mouth of yours shut tight, and
I'll tell you as much of it as I can."
"Okay, go ahead," Dave told him. "The lip is all zippered up, kid.
Shoot."
"Well, they trussed us up, and carried us out on deck," the English
youth began. "The beggar who was carrying you, though, slipped and went
flat. He just dumped you off, and you landed on your head. I guess it
was your helmet that saved your life. At least, saved you from a nasty
skull fracture. However, you went out cold, much to the amusement of the
Japs. And then--well, I blessed well hope I'll never have to live
through anything like it again!"
The English-born air ace paused, and there were actually beads of sweat
on his face. Dave gasped at him as he brushed them off with his hand.
"Then what, Freddy?" the Yank asked. "Oh! You mean because you thought
I'd kicked the bucket? That my number had gone up?"
"Partly," the other replied. "But mostly because the Japs decided that
you wouldn't be of any use to them in that condition. That Jap officer
blighter was about to have you just tossed into the water for shark
food."
Dawson gulped hard, and every drop of blood seemed to drain right down
through his feet, and on out of his body.
"Sweet tripe, no kidding?" he gagged. "Jeepers! And there I was not able
to do a thing about it. Boy, oh boy! Praise be to Allah, they didn't!"
"I never want to live those minutes over again!" Freddy Farmer breathed
fervently. "I tried to call out and tell them something that would stop
them, but that confounded cord around my neck was digging in so deep
that I could hardly breathe. And then you, yourself, got them to change
their minds."
"Me?" Dave echoed wildly. "What in thunder did _I_ do?"
"You seemed to come out of it for a second or so," the other told him.
"You opened your eyes, glared your worst at the Jap rat officer, and
actually tried to push yourself up off the deck. Of course you barely
moved, bound up as you were. But you certainly looked and acted quite
the tough guy, old thing."
"Yeah?" Dawson echoed, and grinned faintly. "Well, that's me all over,
pal. Tough as they come--when I'm out cold! So I sort of saved my own
life, eh?"
"Just about," Freddy Farmer nodded. "The Jap rat decided that he wasn't
through with you, so he had the seaman pick you up again. I guess you
had passed out again by then. And you stayed that way--lucky beggar. I
also hope and pray I'll never have an airplane ride like that one!
Heaven preserve me, please! I'm still not quite sure that I've got
hands, and feet, and a neck. The blighters rammed us down in the rear
pit of that seaplane so tight I was afraid I wasn't going to be able to
breathe. You certainly missed something, Dave! You certainly did, old
chap!"
"Yeah, and am I glad!" Dawson grunted, and glanced about him.
It was then he saw that Freddy and he were in an absolutely bare cabin
aboard some kind of a ship. It was not until then that he realized that
the rhythmic beat was the ship's powerful turbines driving it through
the water. He glanced out the round-shaped "window" and saw cloud-dotted
azure blue sky drifting by. Then he looked quickly back at Freddy, and
the English youth nodded gravely.
"That's right, Dave," he said quietly. "Welcome to the flagship of
Admiral Suicide Sasebo's force. And, good grief, Dave! It's a tremendous
force! Three carriers of the Kaga class, a dozen troop ships, and scads
and scads of cruisers, destroyers, and supply vessels. Even from the air
they appear to take up the whole blasted ocean. Very definitely, a big
force. But, as I was saying, it was an absolutely terrible ride. I think
I fainted once or twice, myself. Just couldn't seem to hang on somehow.
Then after years and years we sat down in the middle of this force and
came alongside this carrier flagship. They let down a hoist cable and
took us right up on board. I really was pretty hazy by then, and I don't
remember just what followed, exactly. But it wasn't much. Yet, no, it
was a whole lot, I guess you'd say. They took those cursed ropes off us
both, anyway. Then they carried you, and half dragged me, down to this
cabin, and kicked us inside. Ever since I've been trying to decide
whether to pray you wouldn't recover and thus get out of it all, or to
pray for you to recover, and carry on with me."
Dawson smiled and reached over a hand and pressed Freddy Farmer's knee.
It was then he saw the ugly-looking red welts that circled his wrists.
And also the circle of red welts about Freddy's wrists.
"Well, here I am anyway, kid," he said softly. "No rotten Jap rats can
break up this old combination, hey, fellow? But how long have we been
here?"
"About two hours, I fancy," Freddy said. "We got here about the middle
of the afternoon, so now it must be around five o'clock. I don't know
the time, exactly. They took my wrist watch, and yours, too. Souvenirs,
no doubt. I hope the things refuse to run for them, the dirty thieving
beggars. Gosh! How my hatred for them just grows and grows! I could--"
"Well, don't let it throw you, and blow your top, kid!" Dave cut in with
a soothing note. "Going haywire won't help a thing. And at least we've
got one thing to cling to."
"What?" the English youth grunted. "Each other?"
"Yes, that, too," Dave replied with a nod. "But that isn't what was in
my mind. I mean, we're both still alive. If they didn't _want_ us alive,
we certainly wouldn't be here in this place. So it means that they
figure we've got something they want. See?"
"Perhaps," Freddy said slowly. "Perhaps not, too. Our little talk
session with the Nazi U-boat commander didn't cut any ice with that Jap
rat officer. I wouldn't be at all surprised but that we're here just
so's he and his dirty pals can take their time and fully enjoy torturing
us and killing us. Gosh! A horrible thought, what?"
Dawson shook his head, and waved one hand back and forth.
"I don't think I'll buy any of that," he said. "This Sasebo is on a
darned important mission. Much as he likes to see guys die, I don't
think he'll bother much with a couple of guys named Joe. Nope, Freddy,
we're here because they think they can gain something from us."
"And when they don't?" Freddy Farmer murmured, and looked him straight
in the eye.
"Yeah!" Dawson breathed. "Maybe then the fun _will_ begin. So it's up to
us to beat them to the punch. To keep them on the ropes, and undecided
what to do next. Maybe even get them high tailing north for a big
killing that isn't going to come off."
"What a blasted faint hope, that last!" Freddy snorted. "I'm not even
giving it a thought. If there is anything that we _can_ do, or try to
do, it's to somehow get one of their planes and go straight to Admiral
Jackson's force."
"Sure, that would be nice, too," Dawson grunted. "But it happens to be
all reversed now, Freddy."
"What is?" the other demanded. "What do you mean by that, Dave?"
"The whole darn situation," Dawson told him. "Yesterday we didn't know
where this force was, but we did know where Admiral Jackson's force was.
Today, though, it's the other way around. We know where the enemy is,
but we don't know exactly where our forces are. There's a heck of a lot
of ocean out there, Freddy. We could use up an awful, awful lot of gas
and oil and get nowhere, and find nothing!"
"Yes, quite," Freddy grunted. Then, "Except for one thing, old bean."
"Such as?"
"Such as the radio that would be in the Jap plane," the English youth
replied quickly. "_If_ we could get a Jap plane."
Dawson chuckled in spite of the seriousness of the situation, and gave a
little shake of his head.
"Leave it to the kid, here!" he breathed. "The firm's brains, that's
what he is. But, kidding aside, you've got something, pal. I really
think that maybe you have. With a Jap radio--and I guess one of them
isn't too tough to work--we could sure tell the whole cockeyed world
plenty. Boy, oh boy! Would that burn up Sasebo, to hear us telling the
world about his force, where it is, and how many ships, and so forth. I
bet he'd dive over the side, and commit _hara-kiri_ on the way down!"
"Well, don't consider it as good as done," the English youth cautioned.
"Stealing a plane in story books is quite simple, of course. But the
real thing is quite something else. Just the same, though, I very
definitely would like it that way."