"Yes, if there is a next time!" Freddy said gloomily.
Dave started a wise crack but let it slide.
"Yeah!" he muttered and shook his head slowly. "For a couple of fellows in the Emergency Command we're doing swell. I mean, terrible!"
[CHAPTER EIGHT]
Pilot's Luck
Right after the Consolidated Catalina flying boat had settled on the surface of the mooring basin Dave went forward and explained their plan to Featherstone, though he didn't mention Steffins by name.
"So you and the crew go ashore, Featherstone," he finished up, "and Farmer and I will wait here a spell and then slip ashore: Just make believe that you are returning from a patrol, and sat down because you were running out of gas. I'll explain to Squadron Leader Hays when I see him."
"Right you are," the Catalina's captain said. Then after a moment's hesitation, "Sure there isn't something I can do to help catch the chap, wherever he is? I think I'd rather like to bash him one on the snoot, myself. I'm sure I would when I think of that torpedo that just missed us."
"Nix, nothing doing," Dave said with a grin. "If there's any slugging to be done Freddy and I will take care of it."
"And in tip-top order, too, I can tell you!" Freddy said over Dave's shoulder. "But thanks for everything you've done, Featherstone."