Dave Dawson didn't so much as bother to turn his head and look in the direction Freddy Farmer pointed. The Catalina flyingboat had come to a full stop not twenty yards from the water logged Fairey Fulmar. Its pilot was keeping it heading into the wind with the aid of his engines and sea rudder. A hull door had been pushed open and an R.A.F. clad figure appeared in the opening with a casting line in his hand. Dave gave him but a single glance, then shoved a hand against the small of Freddy Farmer's back.

"We swim for it, and fast, Freddy!" he shouted.

The English youth shouted a reply but it was cut off short in the middle as he dived headlong into the water. A split second later Dave dived in too. He hit the water with arms and legs working furiously. Perhaps it was a matter of five seconds before he reached the side of the flying boat's hull, but every second seemed a soul torturing eternity in length. Every second he expected to hear the thunderous roar of a U-boat torpedo crashing into the Catalina. Every second he expected to be his last in this war, and in this world.

Then suddenly he and Freddy were at the side of the flying boat. Waiting hands reached down and hauled them scrambling aboard.

"I say, why the blasted rush?" cried a voice in Dave's ear. "We could have pulled you aboard dry as a bone. Here there, what the devil, man?"

The last was because Dave had bounced up on his feet and shoved the speaker roughly to one side. Without wasting breath to either explain or apologize Dave dashed along the hull cat-walk leading to the pilots' compartment. He went through the small compartment door like a twelve inch shell, fell over the chief pilot's shoulder and rammed both throttles wide open.

"Port rudder!" he screamed in the dumbfounded pilot's ear. "Port rudder, man, for Heaven's sake!"

Though still completely dumbfounded the pilot was a man trained for split second action. He jammed on port rudder and the roaring engines swung the huge craft around to the left. Panting and gasping for air, Dave turned his head and looked out the compartment window. What he saw froze every drop of blood in his veins, and made his heart stand still. No more than fifty yards away a white frothy line was being traced in the water and the front end of the line was heading straight for the Catalina.

He tried to shout out but the words clogged in his throat. He automatically reached out with his hand again and pressed it hard against the already wide open throttles, as though in so doing he might add speed to the flying boat that was slowly getting under way. And every instant of the time he kept his gaze riveted on the white frothy line that drew closer and closer to the flying boat. A second, an hour, or maybe it was ten years dragged by. The sea, the sky, and the whole world seemed to stand still. Nothing seemed to move save that deadly white line being traced in the water. It moved right up to the flying boat and then passed out of Dave's vision. He held his breath, closed his eyes, and awaited that last horrible second.

Then came sound. But it was the sound of an excited voice and not that of a world blasting explosion.

"Torpedo off our stern, sir!" shouted a figure that suddenly appeared in the compartment doorway. "Only missed us by inches. Came from dead starboard, sir!"

Dave wanted to shout, wanted to cry, wanted to get up and dance a jig of joy. He did none of those, however. Instead reaction set in and for a moment turned all of his muscles into so much limp rubber. He slipped off the back of the pilot's seat and flopped down on the floor boards. By the time he had been lifted to his feet the huge Catalina was clear of the water and arcing up toward the sky. Dave wiped sweat and sea water from his face and grinned crookedly at the pilot at the controls.

"That was the idea of my haywire actions," he said. "There wasn't time to explain."

The pilot grinned, reached out with one hand and pressed Dave's arm hard.

"Thank God you didn't take time to explain!" he cried. "We'd all be shark food now. You're Dawson, aren't you? I'm Featherstone, and my co-pilot here is Williams."

"Never so glad to meet two fellows in all my life," Dave said with a nod and a grin. "But, look, didn't you get my wig-wag stuff? Things went all haywire. I'll explain later, but right now contact the fleet and tell it to stand clear of this area. I don't know what's up, but I'm pretty sure Jerry is trying to spring a trap on us."

"Hold your horses, my lad!" Featherstone said as Dave started unconsciously pounding him on the shoulder. "You'll have me black and blue for a week. The fleet's standing clear, and has been for an hour or more. The Old Man didn't like the way your signal stopped so soon. According to our calculations you had no sooner reached the edge of the suspected area than your signal went off the air. The Old Man got the idea you had run into Jerry planes, so he sent us off for a look-see. As we came down I sent back word in code that there was not a thing to be seen but your plane in the water. What happened, anyway?"

Dave heaved a long sigh of relief and started to speak but checked himself as Freddy came through the compartment doorway looking very much like a half drowned rat. Dave made introductions all around and then opened his mouth to speak again. But once again he checked himself and gave Featherstone a hard stare. The flying boat's captain looked mystified for a moment. Then his face brightened and he laughed shortly.

"It's quite all right, Dawson, old chap," he said. "You won't be telling any state secrets. The Old Man acquainted us with the orders you received from Air Marshal Manners. Naturally some of us had to know, you see, in order to carry out our part of the assignment. Of course, though, if you'd rather not, then don't tell me a thing. I'll get it later from the Old Man's report."

"Oh, it's okay by me," Dave said. Then in a sudden excited voice, "Man, oh, man, am I slipping! That U-boat! We should have been hunting for it instead of standing here jawing!"

"Relax, Dawson!" Featherstone said with a good-natured laugh. "Really, man, give us credit for a little sense! I've been circling ever since we cleared the water and the crew has maintained a constant watch. Williams, here, too. See those headphones on him? Intra-plane communication, you know. What's the word, Williams?"

The co-pilot shook his head.

"Not the ghost of a sign," he said. "She probably went right down to sit on the bottom when she saw she'd missed us."

"And she'll probably stay there until dark," Featherstone added.

"Okay, okay, I'm over the jitters," Dave said with a gesture of one hand. "Well, here's what happened."

Beginning with the moment they opened their sealed orders Dave gave Featherstone a detailed account of exactly what had happened.

"Don't ask me what I think about it," he finished up, "because it sure has me in a flat spin. It stands to reason, though, that the Jerries knew more about our little trap than we did. Anyway, something went haywire."

Dave emphasized his words with a shrug and looked at Freddy Farmer.

"Did I leave out anything?" he asked.

"No, that was the whole story," the English youth said. "But, now that we're sure the U-boat's gone I think we'd better get back to Plymouth Base as fast as we can. The Fairey Swordfish had Seventy-Four markings, you know. And I got the number on the tail. I think the first thing we should do is check up on that plane at once."

"I agree," Featherstone said. "But just a minute, lads. I can't take you back to Plymouth. My orders were to take you back to the Old Man aboard the Aircraft Carrier Tornado. That is, if I picked you up, and I did. The Tornado isn't far off, and...."

"And we'll just be wasting time," cut in Dave. "Look, Featherstone, be a good guy and radio the Tornado's skipper. Tell him I'm requesting permission for you to fly us to Plymouth at once. Say that I have to report to Air Marshal Manners in person at the earliest possible moment."

The Catalina's captain looked dubious for a moment, then gave a little shrug of his shoulders.

"Right you are, then," he said and nodded at the waiting Co-pilot Williams. "The Old Man's wrath will be on your shoulders, not mine. And he's a lad with a sharp tongue, I can tell you. Go ahead, Williams."

Nobody said anything while the co-pilot got busy on the radio. Two minutes later he slipped off his headphones and looked at Dave with a faint trace of awe in his eyes.

"You must rate with the Old Man, Dawson," he said. "Or perhaps mentioning Air Marshal Manners was the bit of magic. Anyway, his orders were to grant your request at once."

"God bless you for making the suggestion, Dawson!" Featherstone cried. "Frankly, I've been praying the answer would be yes. We've been in the air a solid eighteen hours and a bit of rest and an odd spot of liquid refreshment at Plymouth Base won't make us mad at all. Right-o! Plymouth it is, and in a hurry. You and Farmer better go aft and get some dry duds on. The Sergeant Gunner will dig up something for you. And thanks again for that little bit of haywire action of yours when you came aboard. Hate like the devil to get shot down by a torpedo, you know. Would be kind of fantastic, wouldn't it?"

"Also final," Dave said with a grin. "But if you want the truth, I was thinking only of my own skin all the time."

"Liar!" Featherstone snapped, but softened it with a smile and a look that spoke volumes. "Now, get back there and into some dry things. Both of you."

"We're gone," Dave said and pushed Freddy Farmer ahead of him through the compartment door.

A little over an hour later the huge Catalina flying boat slid down toward a landing in the mooring basin at Plymouth Base. Perched on an empty bomb rack amidships Dave and Freddy watched the basin surface rise up toward them. During the seventy minute flight they had not spoken more than a dozen words to each other. They hadn't for the simple reason there wasn't much to say. Both realized that they could hash over their close to death adventure until the cows came home, and still be no nearer to a correct solution. Then, too, the feeling of depression that had come with failure made the speaking of words seem futile.

True, it was not their fault that they had failed. They had carried out their orders to the letter. They had even gone beyond orders and attempted to crash into the lone U-boat and disable it at the cost of their own lives. Yet, in spite of all that they felt depressed; felt that they had slipped up somewhere and brought failure to what should have been a successful mission.

Such thoughts were rambling through Dave's brain when Freddy reached out and placed a hand on his knee.

"Chin up, Dave," the English youth said with a smile. "I've been thinking."

"Well, I haven't exactly been asleep," Dave grunted. "But what has your brain been chewing over, pal?"

"The whole crazy business," Freddy replied with a heavy scowl. "I've been thinking that all this started back at Adastral House. I mean, the business was doomed to failure long before we opened our sealed orders. In fact I'm sure of it. Because, why should that Fairey Swordfish suddenly start popping up into our lives?"

"Okay, I'll bite," Dave said. "Why? But speak words I can understand this time. That last has me all balled up."

"Well, I figure it this way," Freddy said after a moment's hesitation. "Some one knew, or found out that we weren't just a couple of replacements being sent to Seventy-Four. Some one also knew what our sealed orders were going to be. So when we took off in the Fulmar that some one tagged after us in that Swordfish. Being in a Seventy-Four plane, he knew that he could get in close and smack us down without much danger to himself. And...."

"And do it without killing us, though he came close in your case!" Dave interrupted. "I get your train of thought, now. A Nazi spy in Adastral House. Maybe he's actually on Manners' staff. The Jerries know everything that is planned. They just sit back and wait for you and me to go sailing off on our little adventure. A radio message in code to some U-boat near by, and everything's set. Yeah, I get it. Joe Saps! A couple of fall guys. That's you and me."

"Quite," Freddy said with a curt nod. "But don't you get all of it?"

"Huh?" Dave grunted. "Now what?"

"Go ahead and laugh at me, but here it is," Freddy said in a deadly serious voice. "Our little boy friend on the train coming down. Flying Office Steffins!"

Dave stiffened, gave Freddy a hard stare, but he didn't laugh.

"You sure are souped up on that guy, aren't you!" he finally said. Then with a half shake of his head, "But darned if you're not getting me thinking the same thoughts. Right! I've got the hunch that Steffins was the pilot of that Swordfish. He.... You know something, Freddy? The thing has suddenly hit me like a ton of brick. Yes, sir, I'll bet you any amount of dough you want to put up!"

"I don't bet unless I know what I'm betting on," Freddy said. "So why not tell me first?"

"Then pin your ears back and listen, my little man!" Dave said with tense excitement in his voice. "We didn't see Steffins again, did we? No. And here's why. The guy was waiting until he knew our sealed orders had come through before he reported to the Base. I'll bet you that he was reporting to Squadron Leader Hays just about the time we were taking off in the Fulmar. He probably had faked papers and all the rest of it. Well, he takes up a Swordfish for a joy hop. Once he's clear of the field he heads straight for where we're heading. He knows the U-boat's there. Probably saw it. So, bang, he cracks us down and heads back for Plymouth knowing that the U-boat will pick us up and take care of us for keeps. See? Smooth as silk. The tramp double crosses our plans, gets rid of us, and now he's safe in Seventy-Four Squadron all set to do more of his dirty work!"

"But he won't!" Freddy said grimly, and bunched his two hands into rock hard fists. "We're still alive and kicking. We also got the tail number of that Swordfish. They have records at the Base that Steffins took it up. We'll cook that chap's goose for him!"

"And how!" Dave grated. "Look, what we want to do is to sneak ashore and get in touch with Squadron Leader Hays as soon as possible and tell him the whole story. Then he can grab Steffins, and that will make at least one rat who won't jam up the works next time."

"Yes, if there is a next time!" Freddy said gloomily.

Dave started a wise crack but let it slide.

"Yeah!" he muttered and shook his head slowly. "For a couple of fellows in the Emergency Command we're doing swell. I mean, terrible!"