Pursuit type planes, Don explained, could have made the distance quicker, but could not carry enough gas for a round trip.
Don’s second plan was for Panama and an expert machine gunner to take Splendor’s armed seaplane up at crack of dawn to watch for enemy aircraft, and fight them off. Even if hopelessly outnumbered, the pilot and his gunner could delay an attack upon the Gatoon.
“And that,” boomed Michael Splendor, his eyes gleaming eagerly, “is the very job I picked for meself! I’ll need no legs to use a machine gun, ye see. I’ve already talked it over with my pilot. The lad is anxious to try his luck in a real air fight, whatever the odds. And now, Commander, let’s have your third scheme. I’ve no doubt it includes yourself, and that redheaded lieutenant. If so, it will be the most dangerous job of all, and the most difficult, too.”
“I’m not so sure of that, sir,” Don protested. “In fact it’s as simple as jumping overboard with a life preserver on. That’s what the Scorpion’s gang expect their two spies to do; so what’s to keep Red and me from taking their places?”
“And then what, Don?” asked Mercedes Colby in a strained tone. “I suppose you think a Scorpion pilot will pick you up without asking questions or bothering to recognize you? More likely he’ll turn his machine gun on you and leave you for the fishes. Oh, Don, don’t try anything so desperately foolish!”
XI
JAWS OF DEATH
It was Michael Splendor whose reasoning finally calmed the girl’s worst fears for Don and Red. It was a known rule of “Scorpia,” he pointed out, that only agents who had to work in close contact should know each other, even by sight. Therefore, dressed in seamen’s uniforms, the two young officers would run little risk of discovery until they actually boarded the pickup plane.
After that, things would begin to happen fast, with probably fatal results to someone!
“You see, Mercedes,” Don added, “we’ve simply got to capture that enemy ship! It’s bound to be armed with one or more machine guns. In any case, it would double our chances of beating off enemy bombers until our own squadron shows up. And, by the way—we’ve got just two hours now to sunrise. We’d better get started without any more delay!”
Returning on deck, the officers found Red Pennington just signing off a code conversation with Captain Holding in Washington. The Intelligence Officer had been routed out of bed and was personally directing the despatch of fighting planes to the Gatoon’s rescue. It seemed doubtful, however, that the squadron could arrive in less than three hours.