"Okay, Mister Navigator," Dave said, and passed the course chart over to Freddy. "You keep track of our position, pal. And don't bother to explain if you get us lost. Just jump over the side and leave your parachute behind, see?"
"Oh, really?" the English youth growled. "Well, don't worry about me, my good man. I'll take care of my end, thank you. Just concentrate on keeping us in the air. Matter of fact, I think it's rather silly of me to take you along. Perhaps I should speak of that to Colonel Welsh, right now."
"Do, sweetheart, by all means!" Dawson snarled, and pointed a finger toward the sky. "I'll be up there waiting for you when you get back!"
Freddy started to say something in return but checked himself as he caught sight of the signal officer pointing his flag.
"Get going, Dave," he said, and winked. "Off we go, and luck to both of us, old thing."
"Right on the old beam, pal," Dawson replied, and turned front. "You, me, and this baby with wings. Maybe we'll all be heroes of the task force, come sundown."
"You be the hero," Freddy laughed at him. "All I want to be is lucky, and to find the Jap force!"
"And you've really got something there, kid!" Dawson agreed instantly, and then gave his attention to the flag pointing signal officer on the flight bridge.
Just three minutes and twenty seconds later Dawson took the Dauntless off the flight deck and nosed it up toward the early morning sky. He kept on going up until the altimeter said eight thousand feet. There he leveled off, set his course according to the instructions Freddy Farmer gave him, took a last look down at the Carson that was launching her planes at the rate of one every fifteen seconds, and then turned front and settled himself comfortably in the seat. Minutes later the task force was out of sight far behind and Freddy and he were alone in a world of dawn light and limitless expanse of ocean below.