“Watch out for that dark-faced siren.”

It was Danny’s flying pal who spoke. The dance was still on and he, Fred Angel, was dancing with Sally.

“You mean the Captain’s yeoman?” she suggested.

“Sure I do. While you were dancing with him, she looked as if she’d like to murder you.”

“Fred, why doesn’t she like me?”

“Can’t you guess?” He grinned.

“I might try, but I’d probably be wrong.”

“She thinks her boss is sweet on you.”

“Fred! That’s ridiculous! He’s been good to me because I’ve been lucky enough to help out.”

“Sure! That’s it,” he agreed.

“He’s interested in just one thing, the same as the rest of us, helping to bring this terrible war to an end.”

“The thing that most of us are interested in,” Fred corrected her. “Some people never get their minds off themselves for long. Miss Stone is like that. You never worked in a large organization, did you, where there were a lot of really big shots?”

“No. I’m a small town girl.”

“That’s where you were lucky. Me, I worked with a big city outfit and I saw a lot of private secretaries like Erma Stone.”

“Were they all like her?”

“Most of them were, the very successful ones. They work like slaves, do the boss’s work as well as their own. By and by they get to thinking they own the boss. Erma is like that.”

“And she thinks I’m trying to steal her property? That’s absurd!” Sally laughed.

“That’s just part of it. Erma is a two-timer. She has got to like Danny pretty well, too.”

“You don’t blame her, do you?” Sally spoke with feeling.

“Not a bit. Danny’s one of the swellest guys I’ve ever known. He got a real break last trip, sank a sub all by himself, and the rest of us never even got a look-in,” Fred replied with enthusiasm.

“So Erma set a trap to catch him, too?” Sally asked.

“That’s what she did. And now, well, you know the answer from the books you have read. Keep an eye on her, Sally. She’ll get to you sooner or later. She may beat your time with the Old Man, but never with Danny, for you’re in solid there—”

“Danny,” she whispered, swallowing hard. “We may never see him again.”

“There’s a chance there, but I’m betting on Danny!”

The dance was at an end.

“I’ll keep my eyes open,” she whispered. “Fred,” her voice was low and tense—they were walking slowly toward her post of duty, “will we go back the way we came?”

“No one knows that.”

“But do you think we will?” she insisted.

He knew she was still thinking of Danny and wanted to help her, but lies, he knew, never help. “Well, yes,” he spoke slowly, “the Old Man will return this way for he never forgets his boys. Grand old boy, Captain MacQueen is.”

“Thanks, Fred. That really helps a lot. And, Fred,” they were at the door of the radio cabin, “if you are sent out to search for Danny on the way back, will you take me along?”

“Well, now that—” he pondered, “yes, I will, if I can, I’ll even let you stow away.”

“Stowaway. That’s a lovely word,” she laughed. “Shake. It’s a date.” With a hearty handclasp, they parted.

That night Sally insisted on taking a two-hour shift with Riggs, blinking out her messages to the ships of the convoy.

“I want to do something besides sitting and listening for trouble,” she told him.

Truth was, a great loneliness had come sweeping over her. Perhaps the dance had done that. Certainly it had brought back memories of other times. Gay days at high school when she joined in the school hops which had not been so grand but had for all that given her a feeling of buoyant youth. There had been times too when, out with her father on a fishing trip, she had fallen in with a jolly crowd and had danced by the light of a campfire.

Now that the ship’s dance was over, and she stood looking at the endless black waters rolling by, she felt very blue. But the instant the blinker was in her hands and bright little messages came to her out of the night, loneliness fled.

“We’re a big family,” she said to Riggs.

“A family of ships,” he agreed.

“And on those ships are enough people to populate a town as large as the one where I was raised.”

“Quite a young city,” he agreed.

“But it seems so sad that they should all be carried away from their home towns.”

“Some of them got pretty tired of the old home town,” he mused. “But, boy! Won’t they be happy when they get a chance to go back!”

“I hope it may be soon.”

Riggs was a fine fellow. Sally liked him a lot.

“Riggs,” she said, “if I get into trouble, really serious trouble, I’ll come to you first thing.”

“You do just that, Sally.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “You just spill it all to old Riggs. He’ll pull you out of it or die in the attempt.”

“Thanks, Riggs. I feel so much better.”

“It’s the dance that did that,” he slowly insisted. “Really there must be some change in our lives or we break. The Old Man knows that. Great old fellow, the Captain.”

Sally and Nancy worked out a schedule all their own. Four hours on and four off, day and night, turn and turn about, they stayed by the secret radio.

“It seems such a simple thing to do!” Nancy exclaimed, after a full twenty-four hours of it.

“Yes, I know,” Sally agreed. “Nothing ever happens. I hear a little ‘put-put-put-put-a-put’ now and then—”

“Sure! So do I but it sounds far away. The subs seem close together so they can’t be near—

“So we just set the dials and sit and listen, and wait. But just think what has already happened and may happen again!”

“Yes. We stopped them. Stopped them dead. Ships and lives would have been lost.”

“And so we must stick to our post for it may happen all over again.”

In the quiet days that followed there was an hour of dancing every night. These were hours of real joy for Sally. The Captain, apparently considering that he had shown her all due courtesy, seldom asked for a dance. This left her free to enjoy Fred and his fellow fliers. Erma Stone seemed to have forgotten her, but this, she told herself, was only a lull before another storm.

One night while she stood by the rail, watching the black waters roll by and thinking gloomy thoughts, she suddenly found the Captain at her side.

“I just wanted to tell you, Sally,” there was a mellow tone in his voice, “that I haven’t forgotten Danny. I shall never forget him. He was one of my finest. I am hoping our paths may cross yet.”

“How—how can they?” she asked huskily.

“We are taking this convoy to a certain port in England. There it will be split up into smaller groups and convoyed by other fighting ships to other ports.”

“That leaves us free?” There was a glad ring in her voice.

“Yes. We will follow the same course back. We have the spot where Danny was lost marked on the chart and have a record of currents and winds that may carry him off our course.”

“Then you really think there is a chance?”

“Most certainly, a real chance. We shall send out planes and scour the sea.”

“What a pity it could not have been done the hour he was lost.”

“The battle was still on, then came the fog. After that we were far away and this great convoy hung on our shoulders like a crushing weight.” The Skipper sounded old and very tired. “It’s war, Sally. War! God grant that it may soon be at an end.”

As she returned to her cabin after this talk she had with the Captain she ran upon Danny’s mother. She had seen her several times of late, but they had never spoken of Danny. Now she had something cheery to tell.

“Come in, Mrs. Duke,” she invited. “I’ll make a cup of hot chocolate on my electric plate, and we’ll have a talk.”

When the cocoa had been poured steaming hot, she said: “I had a talk with the Captain.”

“Was it about Danny?” Mrs. Duke smiled knowingly.

“Yes, who else?” Sally smiled back.

“Danny’s all right, that is, up to now.”

Sally did not ask how she knew. That would have been questioning a mother’s faith.

“And he’s going to be all right,” Sally replied cheerfully. “The Captain says we are to turn right back the moment we reach England, and that we’ll have a look for Danny.”

“That’s fine. Really, the Captain is a great and grand man.” Mrs. Duke was warm in her praise.

Sally told all she knew. Danny’s mother beamed her gratitude. But as she rose to go, a wrinkle came to her brow. “It’s going to storm,” she said. “I feel it in my bones.”

Sally didn’t say: “That will be bad for Danny.” She said nothing at all, just watched the older woman as she walked out into the night.

Those had been strange, hard days for Danny. He was not long in learning that there is nothing so lonely as an empty sea. “If I get out of this alive,” he told himself, “I’ll always carry some book with thin pages and lots of reading, a Bible, a volume of Shakespeare, just anything.”

His threatened storm turned into a gentle shower. Spreading out his coat, he caught a quart of water and poured it into a rubber bottle. The supply of water that could be produced by his still, he knew, was limited, and this might be a long journey.

That he was slowly going somewhere, he knew well enough. Winds and currents would see to that. Perhaps he would in time come to land. What land? Some wild, uninhabited island, a friendly shore, or beneath an enemy’s frowning fortifications? He shuddered at the thought.

At times he tried reciting poetry. One verse amused him:

“‘This is the ship of pearl, which poets feign, sails the unshadowed main.’ It’s a rubber ship,” he told himself, “but why quibble over small details?”

As he recalled the poem it ended something like this:

“That’s a fine idea,” he thought, “if I could make this rubber raft grow. But I can’t, so I’d better catch me a fish.”

The sharks were gone. His fishing on that day met with marvelous success. After a terrific struggle in which his boat was all but capsized a dozen times, he succeeded in landing a twenty-pound king salmon.

“Boy, oh, boy!” he exclaimed. “How did you get way out here?”

That was not an important question. After cutting off the salmon’s head, he sliced the rich, red steaks into strips and set them drying along the sides of his boat.

“‘Take, eat, and be content,’” he quoted. “‘These fishes in your stead were sent by him who sent the tangled ram, to spare the child of Abraham.’”

He didn’t know what that was all about, but it did somehow seem to fit his case, so he liked it.

One evening his sea was visited by one more flight of small birds with big, ugly heads. By one device and another he captured six of these. Five went into his larder but the sixth being young-appearing and innocent got a new lease on life. He tied it to the boat by a string. At first his pet objected strenuously, but in the end he settled down to a diet of dried salmon meat and was content to sit by the hour perched on the side of Danny’s boat. He looked like a parrot but, try as he might, Danny could not make him talk.

And then this young “ancient mariner” was visited by both hope and despair. A lone boat appeared on the horizon. It remained there for hours, at last came much closer, and then was swallowed up by a great bank of clouds rolling over the surface of the sea.