"What the—?" Dave shouted, and then stopped short. "My gosh!" he then blurted out. "I'll never live this down with you around. Boy! Am I bright!"
Dave shook his head in a sheepish gesture and kept his face front so that Freddy couldn't see its bright color even in the faint pale glow of the instrument board light. He had started to radio check with Operations aboard the Victory only to have Freddy's descending hand and wise-crack wake him up to the fact that the Skua's radio had been taken out, and that he had actually just been talking into thin air. The flap-mike was fastened to the lower part of his helmet, but it wasn't hooked up to anything.
He mentally kicked himself all over the plane for being so stupid, and finally turned around to grin at Freddy.
"You want to change seats after that one?" he asked.
The English youth grinned, but shook his head.
"No, I think not," he said. "If that's the worst you do before we're back, everything will come out all right."
"It will come out all right!" Dave echoed in a rush of words. "This job means a lot, Freddy. We can't let the Fleet Air Arm down."
"We won't," Freddy said, and the look in his eyes said that he meant just that.
"Atta boy!" Dave chuckled. "That's the old fight. And don't worry, pal, I won't let you down, either. Gosh! I'd cut my throat if I did."
"Oh no, you wouldn't!" Freddy said firmly.