Dave Dawson on Convoy Patrol

by Robert Sidney Bowen

He tried to shout out but the words clogged in his throat. He automatically reached out with his hand again and pressed it hard against the already wide open throttles, as though in so doing he might add speed to the flying boat that was slowly getting under way. And every instant of the time he kept his gaze riveted on the white frothy line that drew closer and closer to the flying boat. A second, an hour, or maybe it was ten years dragged by. The sea, the sky, and the whole world seemed to stand still. Nothing seemed to move save that deadly white line being traced in the water. It moved right up to the flying boat and then passed out of Dave's vision. He held his breath, closed his eyes, and awaited that last horrible second.

Then came sound. But it was the sound of an excited voice and not that of a world blasting explosion.

"Torpedo off our stern, sir!" shouted a figure that suddenly appeared in the compartment doorway. "Only missed us by inches. Came from dead starboard, sir!"

Dave wanted to shout, wanted to cry, wanted to get up and dance a jig of joy. He did none of those, however. Instead reaction set in and for a moment turned all of his muscles into so much limp rubber. He slipped off the back of the pilot's seat and flopped down on the floor boards. By the time he had been lifted to his feet the huge Catalina was clear of the water and arcing up toward the sky. Dave wiped sweat and sea water from his face and grinned crookedly at the pilot at the controls.

"That was the idea of my haywire actions," he said. "There wasn't time to explain."

The pilot grinned, reached out with one hand and pressed Dave's arm hard.

"Thank God you didn't take time to explain!" he cried. "We'd all be shark food now. You're Dawson, aren't you? I'm Featherstone, and my co-pilot here is Williams."

"Never so glad to meet two fellows in all my life," Dave said with a nod and a grin. "But, look, didn't you get my wig-wag stuff? Things went all haywire. I'll explain later, but right now contact the fleet and tell it to stand clear of this area. I don't know what's up, but I'm pretty sure Jerry is trying to spring a trap on us."

"Hold your horses, my lad!" Featherstone said as Dave started unconsciously pounding him on the shoulder. "You'll have me black and blue for a week. The fleet's standing clear, and has been for an hour or more. The Old Man didn't like the way your signal stopped so soon. According to our calculations you had no sooner reached the edge of the suspected area than your signal went off the air. The Old Man got the idea you had run into Jerry planes, so he sent us off for a look-see. As we came down I sent back word in code that there was not a thing to be seen but your plane in the water. What happened, anyway?"

Dave heaved a long sigh of relief and started to speak but checked himself as Freddy came through the compartment doorway looking very much like a half drowned rat. Dave made introductions all around and then opened his mouth to speak again. But once again he checked himself and gave Featherstone a hard stare. The flying boat's captain looked mystified for a moment. Then his face brightened and he laughed shortly.