The English born R.A.F. ace took a quick look around, and shook his head.
"Can't say I do," he said. "Unless you mean us tooting around up here for no apparent reason ... at least, not to us. Why? What do you mean?"
Dave made a little gesture with one hand that included a sweep of the surrounding air.
"Just that," he said. "Full of nothing but sky and air. How come? How come we're the only plane that's burning gas and oil in these parts? Why isn't there a sign of any Singapore Base planes out on patrol? Particularly the U-boat patrol planes. Don't they care any more if supply ships heading for Singapore get torpedoed? In short, where is everybody?"
"By jove, that's right, Dave!" Freddy Farmer breathed with a catch in his voice. "Of course, they may have scared U-boats and surface raiders away from here for good, yet.... Yet you'd think they'd still maintain some kind of daylight patrol just in case."
"Took the words right out of my mouth," Dawson said with a grave nod. "Of course, it is the month of December, and maybe they've declared a truce out here until Xmas comes and goes. But it's darn queer. No planes in the air. No ships on the water. Even the Harkness is out of sight, now. Just us."
"And those queer light flashes down there," Freddy Farmer added. "Dave! I think we should...."
"Doggone right!" Dave cut in and shoved the stick forward. "We'll take us a better look anyway. Hang on, pal! These Swordfish jobs lose altitude in plenty hurry!"