“Thank you, sir,” Stan answered. “This plane is a test job and we felt she was so valuable she ought to be salvaged.”
“I see, so you set that superdemon down on my deck.” He gave Stan a searching look. “Your navy training is good. How does it come that you are not with the sea forces?”
“My friend, Lieutenant O’Malley, made the landing, sir,” Stan said.
O’Malley grinned broadly at the commander. “Sure, an’ it was pure luck, the luck o’ the Irish,” he said.
“You will be cared for and your specimen plane will be landed,” the commander promised. “In fact, I watched you dive bomb that battleship and I believe the navy could use some of this type of ship. I will make a memorandum to that effect.”
As they walked down from the bridge, Stan looked at O’Malley. “I never asked you where you learned to fly,” he said. “Could it have been the Royal Navy?”
“It could have been,” O’Malley answered and closed his big mouth tight.
Stan didn’t ask any more questions. They went below and had a good meal. Later they received word from the commander that the carrier was headed across to the Norwegian coast, but they would be sent home by motor launch. The Hendee Hawk would have to wait until the naval patrol swung around their course and slipped into Portsmouth, or some other port.
“How long will the swing take?” Stan asked.
The young officer who had delivered the message shook his head. “One never knows.”