Pat, the light machine gun in his arms, climbed into the forward cockpit. There were parachutes for both pilot and passenger and Tim instructed his companion in the operation of the chute.
“If we go aloft I’ll get even with you for some of the unhappy hours I’ve spent in that tin fish,” chuckled Tim.
Pat, a little white around the lips at the thought of his first trip aloft, grinned gamely.
“I can take it,” he said.
The plane from the Iron Mate was darting toward the Isle of the Singing Trees. The ship was coming down now in a terrific power dive. Tim estimated the speed at nearly 150 miles an hour. The air was filled with the roar of the motor.
Then the oncoming plane levelled off and flashed over the S-18. Something black hurtled over the side.
Tim tried to shout, but his throat closed and he could only gasp. Automatically he leaped into action, his hand jamming the throttle on full. The Sea King scuttled across the water, angling away from the S-18 while down from the sky plummeted the black object. It struck the water a good hundred yards away from the S-18 and a fountain of water arose in the air. The noise of the bomb could be heard even above the roar of the Sea King's powerful motor.
Tim lifted the finely trimmed craft into the air and set out in pursuit of the bomber. Below them on deck of the S-18 Gunner Joe was training his sights on the Iron Mate. Tim, looking down, saw a puff of smoke and a fountain of water leap into the air beyond the Iron Mate. Joe had overshot his target.
But there was no time to watch the Iron Mate now. Tim concentrated on the task of bringing down the other plane. Ahead of him, Pat crouched in the cockpit, the machine gun ready.
The seaplane was making a desperate attempt to get under the shelter of the Iron Mate but Tim drove on relentlessly on the tail of the other ship. There was no chance for the pilot to land and taxi back to the steamer.