The two R.A.F. pilots grinned, but they both shook their heads.
"Sorry, sir, but it's as much of a mystery to us," Freddy Farmer spoke for them. "Air Vice Marshal Bostworth didn't even give us an inkling that he might be coming out here. It really is surprising news to us, sir."
Captain Standers hesitated as though about to speak, then thought better of it and pushed up onto his feet.
"Well, one can't know about everything in this blasted war, I fancy," he grunted. "You two had better get on with it. Use the plane on Catapult Number Three. I've already told the signal officer to make ready. Good luck. And, by the way!"
"Yes, sir?" the two pilots murmured as the Cruiser's commander paused and scowled at his gnarled hands.
"When you finally land at Singapore R.A.F. Base," he finally said, "please mention to Air Vice Marshal Bostworth that I'd jolly well like to have the plane back before we put to sea again. Planes are hard enough to get as it is. Well, luck to you anyway."
Some twenty minutes later Dave Dawson and Freddy Farmer were seated in a pontoon fitted, Bristol Pegasus engined Fairey "Swordfish" mounted on the starboard launching arm of Number Three catapult. The engine was ticking over and the Signal Officer standing on the flight bridge was ready to "shoot" the plane off into the air as soon as Dave at the controls gave him the signal.
Checking his engine instruments for the last time, the Yank R.A.F. ace turned in the seat and looked back at his English pal.
"All set for the mystery ride, Freddy?" he called out.
Young Farmer made a face and nodded.