As though the very air were greased the Catalina flying boat went streaking down at the raider. Dave felt her tremble and vibrate from hull nose to tail, and from wingtip to wingtip. He felt parts of the plane let go. A brace girder or perhaps a strip of her fuselage covering, but he didn't give it a second thought. This was the last dive on the raider. This time he would release every bomb in the special hull racks. This time it was the raider, or the Catalina, and maybe both.

"Nice day, isn't it?" he suddenly shouted inanely at Freddy. "Is that shooting I hear?"

"A beautiful day!" Freddy shouted back automatically. "Oh, my, no! That's not shooting. Just some old geezer in the next room rattling his evening paper. And I say, Dave, could we stop for a bite to eat? I'm famished!"

At that instant a shell from the raider's forward gun seemed to explode right on the hull nose of the Catalina. There was a mighty roar of sound, and a cloud of vivid red flame. Then the flying boat was down through it and still going.

"Like fish?" Dave yelled out.

"Hate it!" Freddy cried and made a face.

"Too bad!" Dave yelled. "Chances are that's all you're going to get, pal. Fish, and all kinds!"

"Right-o!" the English youth echoed. "But get that blasted raider, first!"

Freddy Farmer's remark ended the bit of by-play between them. The raider was looming up large below the nose of their diving plane, and the air all about them quivered and shuddered with a terrific bedlam of sound. So great was the din, Dave could hardly hear the screaming howl of the Catalina's over-revving engines. And although he held a thumb jabbed against the trigger release on the Dep wheel he could not hear his forward guns firing. He could only see the stabbing jets of flame that spewed out from the nose and streaked down toward the raider.

A mighty power dive straight down into a whole world exploding sound and flames. Time ceased to exist. Time stood still. A hundred thousand crazy, inane thoughts raced across Dave Dawson's brain, but they were forgotten almost before they were registered on the screen of his mind. And then suddenly the raider was once more directly under the nose. Another instant and the Catalina would go hurtling in to its own doom. In that last remaining instant Dave pulled out of the dive, roared straight along the entire length of the raider and pounded down the last load of the flying boat's bombs. And then like before he was once again zooming up and away.

This time, though, it was different. The American built flying boat had taken a terrific beating from Nazi guns. It had taken enough bullets and screaming fragments of anti-aircraft shells to break up a half dozen planes. Yet it still held together. Still held together and valiantly climbed upward, though it shook like rotten timber under strain from nose to tail, and though both engines coughed and sputtered, and threatened to quit cold in the very next second. Dave could sense the flying boat failing in its mighty effort to keep on going, and an icy hand closed over his heart as he wondered just how long she would last. How long before she would break up and they would go tumbling down into that inferno of gunfire below?

As a matter of fact he felt as though a miracle had actually come to pass. The miracle that Freddy and he still lived. The miracle that they had been able to hold off the Nazi aircraft this long, and to have been able to make that last do-or-die bomb dive on the raider. A Catalina was not a bomb diver. That wasn't her job. But this old girl had proved that she could tackle anything when necessary. The ship of ships, but she was doomed. Doomed just as sure as there was the golden blue of the heavens above and the raging fury of war below.

"Did it, Dave, did it!" Freddy's voice suddenly screamed in his ears. "Right on the topper this time. Look, she's heeling over! No, she's coming back up on even keel. But she's really on fire this time, and she's losing headway fast!"

Even as the English youth screamed the words Dave was staring downward at the raider. Though still plowing sluggishly forward, the raider didn't look much like a surface ship any more. She looked little more than a narrow stream of fire that bulged out slightly in the middle. About her sides water boiled and foamed white. And in the next instant there was a blast of red and a sheet of flame up toward the bow. The raider seemed to stop dead and rear up by the prow. She settled back almost immediately and continued to stagger onward like some wounded beast of prey half lurching and half walking toward its hole.

"The U-Boats!" Dave heard his own voice cry out hoarsely. "Look! They're starting to scatter. They're quitting the raider cold. Running away from her like so many rats. And we haven't any more bombs left. Darn those rats! If only there were British planes around to give us a hand. If only...."

At that exact instant came the mighty blast of worlds colliding. Red fire and clouds of smoke seemed to completely envelop Dave and blot out all else. The Catalina lurched drunkenly off onto the left wing. In the next instant it seemed to roll completely over. Instinct and instinct alone caused Dave to grab the controls with both hands and fight to get the craft back onto even keel. Yet, no matter which way he moved the Dep wheel and control column, the Catalina continued to roll over like a huge tired bird.

Then, as though by magic, the red fire and the smoke cleared away, and they both saw the jagged hole in the hull nose. Hole? There just wasn't any hull nose left! And as Dave looked out to the left he saw the left wingtip let go and go sailing off into oblivion. With a part of its lifting surface gone, the Catalina began to lurch and stagger crazily about in the air. No matter what Dave did with the controls it just didn't seem to make any difference.

"A direct hit on us!" he heard his own voice faintly. "The bums. They had to get in one last lucky shot!"

"The raider's stern gun!" came Freddy Farmer's voice through the terrible din of sound that still raged on all sides. "I saw the flash just before it hit us. We're sunk!"

"We will be darn soon!" Dave panted and struggled with the controls to counteract the flying boat's crazy maneuvers.

However, for all the good it did him, he might just as well have walked out on the wing and patched up the damaged tip. The Catalina just wasn't flyable any more and she was flip flopping seaward at an alarming rate.

"Cold meat for those Jerry planes!" Dave said savagely. "They'll have great sport picking us off like a helpless clay pigeon, now. Okay, do your darnedest, you vultures. We got some of you first, and your raider is junk ticketed for the bottom of the Atlantic. Go on and...."

Dave cut himself off short, gasped and hunched forward to gape down at the water. It looked as though a couple of dozen subterranean volcanoes had let go and were belching their fury up to the surface of the Atlantic. The area covered by the crippled raider and her wolf-pack of U-boats was virtually alive with mounting columns of water and flame. Even as Dave gaped downward the raider disappeared completely in a mighty geyser of foaming water and flame and smoke. An instant later when he saw it again the raider was broken in two pieces and plunging down under the waves.

"Dave, the Fleet!" Freddy shrilled and pounded him on the shoulder. "They're shelling them. And look. Planes. Our planes! From the Fleet Air Arm. They're giving those U-boats everything. Just look, will you! Nothing can live in that sea, now! We win, Dave. We win!"

Not quite sure whether he was alive or dreaming, Dave stared down at the holocaust of war being created on the surface of that part of the Atlantic. Hundreds of shells were raining down to explode among the fleeing U-boats and turn the waters into an oily froth. Shells from British battleship guns still out of sight below the horizon. And hundreds of bombs were dropping down upon the U-boat flotilla from the planes of the Fleet Air Arm. Dave looked up at the sky filled with British wings and could hardly believe his eyes. Flight after flight of them had appeared as though by magic. As though the heavens had split apart and the Fleet Air Arm ships had come tearing down through. While the bombers concentrated on the U-boats below the escort fighters tore into the Nazi planes swarming about the helpless Catalina and practically shot them out of the sky with their withering bursts of fire. In less than nothing flat, bombs were not only tumbling down into the Atlantic, but Nazi planes as well.

"Our planes?" Dave shouted when he found his voice. "But how the heck did they...?"

He didn't have the chance to finish the question. At that instant a lone remaining German plane wheeled in close and let fire at almost point blank range at the stumbling Catalina. Dave saw it coming out the corner of his eye, and sight and action were one for him. He let go of the Dep wheel, lunged out and hooked Freddy about the neck and then ducked forward and down. The compartment windows gave way like tissue paper before the furious blast of bullets. A sound akin to that of somebody tearing a strip off a tin roof filled Dave's ears as the shower of bullets raked the instrument panels and turned the thing into a shambles.

"Hey, what the dickens!" came Freddy's choked cry as the youth struggled to free himself from Dave's bear hug hold.

Dave let go and straightened up. So did Freddy, and the English youth's face turned from beet red to paper white as he saw the instrument panel.

"Good grief!" he got out in a tight voice. "I'd have been punched full of holes, Dave, if you hadn't grabbed...."

A short sharp explosion to their left cut off Freddy Farmer's voice. Almost instantly a spear of fire shot down across the shattered front window. Then in the next split second there was an unearthly whine and something glistening sliced right down through the anti-aircraft shell blasted hull nose. Both boys turned their heads quickly to look, but both knew instinctively what had happened.

It was Dave who shouted the truth.

"Port engine's exploded, and the prop blades have let go!" he cried. "And the wing's on fire."

"And we're too low to jump!" Freddy echoed. "Blast it! What more hard luck is going to pick on us?"

"We'll soon find out!" Dave yelled and hauled back on the control column with every ounce of his strength. "One ocean coming up! Brace yourself, Freddy, and be set to scramble out fast. She's so full of holes she'll probably sink like a rock as soon as we touch. I'm going to try and belly flop us in, but I can't guarantee a thing, pal!"

Freddy Farmer made some reply to that, but Dave didn't catch what it was. The blood was roaring in his head as he exerted the very last ounce of strength to get the Catalina's shell blasted nose up so that they would not crash head on into the water. It was like trying to pull over the side of a building. His lungs felt ready to burst. His arms felt ready to snap right out of the shoulder sockets. And a weird conglomeration of colored stars danced and spun around before his eyes. He couldn't see anything. He could only feel the heartbreaking sluggish upward movement of the plane.

He was positive that the nose was not coming up enough, and his heart stood still in his chest as he waited for the sickening, terrifying sound of the shell battered nose crashing straight into the water. Then suddenly the compartment roof seemed to drop down to hit him a stunning blow on the top of the head. He heard Freddy yell as though from a thousand miles away. Then in the next instant unseen iron fists pounded and pummeled his body from head to toe. He tried to hang onto the Dep wheel for support but his hands were wrenched free. He had the crazy sensation of sailing head over heels off into space. Then just as suddenly all movement stopped, and for an instant his ears heard no sound but that of gurgling water.

Water! The very thought of the word cleared his brain. His head ceased pounding and the dancing colored lights faded away from in front of his eyes. He turned impulsively and saw Freddy Farmer sitting bolt upright, blinking stupidly, and clutching a broken section of the radio panel between his two hands. Dave reached out and shook him roughly by the shoulder.

"Drop it, Freddy!" he barked. "It came loose and the darn thing's no life preserver. You okay?"

The English youth stopped blinking and gaped down at the section of panel he held in his hands as though it were some strange and mysterious discovery. Then he shook himself and dropped the section of panel into the water that was pouring onto the compartment floor.

"I grabbed the panel for support," he choked out. "It must have come free, and...."

"And did!" Dave cut him off. "Now, out on the wing, pal. This thing's going to be an express elevator headed down in darn short order, I'm afraid. We've got to get out on the wing so's we can jump clear. Now, up with you, Freddy!"

The English youth scrambled up onto his seat, then wiggled out through the compartment window and onto the forward hull. Bracing himself as best he could, he reached back to give Dave a hand. The Yank started out through the window, then suddenly checked himself and shook Freddy's hand free.

"Oh my gosh!" he cried. "Von Khole!"

"Hey!" Freddy screamed. "Where the...?"

By then Dave had ducked back into the compartment again. Freddy saw him through the bullet and crash shattered window. Saw him plunge aft along the cat-walk and then go right out of sight under a couple of feet of water that was rising fast. A moment later Dave reappeared spouting sea water and clutching the limp form of von Khole in his arms. He waded forward along the cat-walk and hoisted the Nazi's head and shoulders up through the window.

"Catch hold, and pull him through, Freddy!" he shouted. "He's still breathing."

The English youth didn't bother to argue. He grabbed hold of the German and pulled him through onto the forward hull hatch. A couple of moments later and Dave was through the window and standing beside him.

"Don't say it, Freddy," Dave growled. "I didn't do it to save his rotten hide. He's a present for Manners. Besides, we couldn't let him drown even if he is a Nazi. Here, give me a hand undoing these ropes. I can keep him afloat better if his arms and legs are free."

"Of all the crazy, balmy idiots!" Freddy growled, but there was a warm glow in his eyes as he bent over to fumble with the water soaked knots. "With the bus liable to sink like a rock any second, the blighter goes fishing for a Nazi. Next time do it for me, but try and come up with Adolf, himself. I ... Watch it, Dave! She's settling fast. Come on! Up on the top center section of the wing. She may not go completely down under, yet."

Dave didn't waste breath making comment. His head was swimming and he had hardly the strength left to move. Somehow, though, he and Freddy managed to hoist the unconscious von Khole up onto the top center section of the wing between the mangled engines, and then scrambled up there themselves. No sooner were they up there than they stretched out flat and panted for air, and fought back the waves of black oblivion that tried to engulf them.

The roar of aircraft engines came faintly to Dave's singing ears. He turned his head as much as strength would allow and looked up through a whirling mist at a brace of British planes circling around overhead. He saw a hand waving from one of the planes, and he tried to raise his own hand to wave back. But the strength just wasn't there. His hand fell down on Baron von Khole's limp figure. He curled his fingers in water soaked uniform cloth, and then the half sunken Catalina was lifted skyward on the crest of a swell, and Dave had the crazy belief that he was flying again.

When he next opened his eyes it was to find himself in a hospital bunk. There was a strange motion to the bunk. Then suddenly he knew that he was in hospital bay aboard ship. He turned his head to see Freddy Farmer in the next bunk. The English youth's eyes met his and they both grinned broadly. Then Freddy Farmer heaved a deep sigh.

"Well, thank goodness you've regained consciousness!" he exclaimed. "Now, perhaps you'll shut up and not talk so much. Man, what a gabber! I couldn't get a word in edgeways, and mind you I was conscious every minute after they took us aboard."

"Talking?" Dave mumbled. "Me? What do you mean, took us aboard? Where are we?"

"Aboard the cruiser Hampden," Freddy replied. "She came up and lowered a boat and took us off the Cat-boat just in time. But every blessed minute you've been aboard you've done nothing but babble out all the details of the show. Thank goodness a German ship didn't pick us up, is all I can say!"

Dave started to gulp a question, then saw Freddy Farmer look up and grin toward the other side of his bed. He turned over to stare up into the smiling face of Air Marshal Manners.

"You, sir?" he gasped. "How did you get here?"

"By plane, of course," the Air Ministry official said with a chuckle. "Heard you two had done the job and had been saved. I couldn't wait for you to come ashore. Flew out in a Cat-boat to give you two my blessing, and all that sort of thing. Don't let Farmer pull your leg too much, though. You didn't rave much in your sleep. Mostly about von Khole, anyway. You...."

"Hey, von Khole!" Dave yelped and sat up straight in his bunk before anybody could stop him. "What happened to him? Last thing I remember I had hold of him!"

"And from what they tell me, here aboard," Manners said with a chuckle, "it must have been quite a hold! Took two sailors to pry him loose from you. But don't worry. He's safely aboard, and put on ice, as they say in the States. And still alive, of course. To tell you the truth, Dawson, I've never received such a welcome present in all my life. I owe you a debt I'm sure I'll never be able to repay."

"Maybe it would have been okay to let him drown," Dave murmured. "But somehow I think it would be better to let the whole world know about his trial, and what comes after. Particularly for Adolf to know. Funny, but I guess maybe that's the real reason I did save his hide. Just to let Adolf know for sure that we got his ace rat."

"Well, we've got him, and he'll do no more damage in this world," Manners said grimly. "Now, if there's anything...?"

"Say, there is something!" Dave blurted out. "Maybe you can tell me, sir? How in heck did the ships of the Fleet and the Fleet Air Arm planes show up so unexpectedly? Things popped so fast that we didn't have a chance to contact them. But there they were, Johnny on the spot. I don't understand that."

Air Marshal Manners chuckled and looked at Freddy.

"Farmer understands perfectly," he said. "I know he can explain."

"Freddy?" Dave shouted and turned around to stare at his pal. "Hey! What's all this about?"

The English youth blushed to the ears, and looked as though he wanted to sink right down thorough the bunk out of sight.

"Well, good grief, I had to do a little something to help!" he said in a fussed voice. "You were doing practically everything, you know. So ... Well, remember when I said, 'Ouch, my arm'? That was to cover up what I was trying to do. The second radio under the seat. When von Khole wasn't looking I simply slipped my hand down and tuned the set to the directional finder wave length. The Fleet operators picked it up, and came a-steaming. And got there in time, thank goodness!"

Dave blinked, gulped and then grinned broadly.

"If that doesn't beat anything I've heard!" he cried. "And me sitting there dumb as an ox, not even guessing. I ... Aw, gee! And I thought I was the great hero. Doggone it, guy! You've got to cut out making me come in second all the time. You've got to let me be the big noise, at least just once, or I'll quit and find me another pal who really is dumb!"

"Well, I fancy there's no choice between you two heroes!" Air Marshal Manners said as they all stopped laughing. "The convoy is safely on its way to port. Nothing can harm it now. England will never forget what you two have done today. Not only England, but the entire civilized world. And if there is any request you want to make, state it and I give you my word it shall be granted."

Dave scowled thoughtfully for a moment, then brightened and looked at Freddy.

"I've got one, but go ahead and state yours first, Freddy," he said.

The English youth looked blank and shook his head.

"Can't think of a blessed thing," he said. "What's yours?"

Dave grinned at Air Marshal Manners.

"It's a request you can grant easily, sir," he said. "Me, I'd like to be assigned to a land plane squadron for a while. I'm sure fed up with falling into the water."

"Me, too!" Freddy cried. "Oh, but definitely, sir!"

THE END

[1] Dave Dawson in Libya.