Pat, leaning over the edge of the cockpit, let a blistering blast of fire loose and Tim dropped one of the bombs. It struck a scant 25 yards beyond the Iron Mate, sending a great spray of water into the air.
Banking the Sea King sharply, they swept back toward the tramp steamer. Men were running excitedly about the deck for the attack from the air had taken them by surprise. Again Pat raked the deck with fire while Tim, working rapidly, dropped two bombs overboard.
The first one missed, falling short, but the second struck only a few feet from the gun on the fore deck. There was a shattering blast of flame and smoke, the scream of rent steel, and the cries of frightened men.
Relentlessly the Sea King bore down again. This time Tim aimed at the after deck. There were only three bombs left. He swooped low, dropping only one of the missiles, but he had the range and scored a direct hit. In less than a minute both guns had been put out of commission and the ship badly damaged.
“We’ll plant another ‘egg’ midships and then call it a day,” yelled Tim.
Once more the Sea King, struts and wires screaming vengeance, swept down. Again Tim scored a hit, the blast from the third bomb leveling the stubby masts and the funnel. The deck of the ship was strewn with wreckage and the Iron Mate was definitely out of commission as far as any more fighting was concerned.
Tim landed the Sea King inside the barrier of reefs and taxied alongside the S-18.
“Splendid work,” shouted Commander Ford, and the others in the crew were loud in their praise.
Tim and Pat made the Sea King fast again at its moorings and rowed back to the submarine. In the distance the Iron Mate was painfully limping away from the scene.