"Did I leave out anything?" he asked.
"No, that was the whole story," the English youth said. "But, now that we're sure the U-boat's gone I think we'd better get back to Plymouth Base as fast as we can. The Fairey Swordfish had Seventy-Four markings, you know. And I got the number on the tail. I think the first thing we should do is check up on that plane at once."
"I agree," Featherstone said. "But just a minute, lads. I can't take you back to Plymouth. My orders were to take you back to the Old Man aboard the Aircraft Carrier Tornado. That is, if I picked you up, and I did. The Tornado isn't far off, and...."
"And we'll just be wasting time," cut in Dave. "Look, Featherstone, be a good guy and radio the Tornado's skipper. Tell him I'm requesting permission for you to fly us to Plymouth at once. Say that I have to report to Air Marshal Manners in person at the earliest possible moment."
The Catalina's captain looked dubious for a moment, then gave a little shrug of his shoulders.
"Right you are, then," he said and nodded at the waiting Co-pilot Williams. "The Old Man's wrath will be on your shoulders, not mine. And he's a lad with a sharp tongue, I can tell you. Go ahead, Williams."
Nobody said anything while the co-pilot got busy on the radio. Two minutes later he slipped off his headphones and looked at Dave with a faint trace of awe in his eyes.
"You must rate with the Old Man, Dawson," he said. "Or perhaps mentioning Air Marshal Manners was the bit of magic. Anyway, his orders were to grant your request at once."
"God bless you for making the suggestion, Dawson!" Featherstone cried. "Frankly, I've been praying the answer would be yes. We've been in the air a solid eighteen hours and a bit of rest and an odd spot of liquid refreshment at Plymouth Base won't make us mad at all. Right-o! Plymouth it is, and in a hurry. You and Farmer better go aft and get some dry duds on. The Sergeant Gunner will dig up something for you. And thanks again for that little bit of haywire action of yours when you came aboard. Hate like the devil to get shot down by a torpedo, you know. Would be kind of fantastic, wouldn't it?"
"Also final," Dave said with a grin. "But if you want the truth, I was thinking only of my own skin all the time."