CHAPTER NINE
Fate Is Fickle
"How you doing, Freddy? Having fun, huh?"
As he asked the questions Dawson twisted around in the seat and grinned. They were close to the end of their patrol "beat." Soon they would turn around and retrace their air tracks to the carrier Carson.
"Me?" the English youth echoed with a forced smile supposed to indicate mock happiness. "Why, I never had so much fun in my life. Such wonderful sun-filled air. And isn't all that water down there just beautiful? I could just sit here and look at it all day—I don't think! Man! I wish we could get a look at something. Anything would be perfectly all right with me."
"And how!" Dave breathed, and pushed up his goggles. "Boy! Am I sick of looking at water. When we took off I was all hopped up and bubbling over with expectations. But no more now. Nothing can take the starch out of you like looking for something, and not finding it. So I guess this isn't our day, pal. At least not this patrol. If there's any Jap force around these parts, it's down there under water, and I can't see it."
"Quite!" Freddy grunted, and then gave a little harsh laugh. "But, after all, why should we expect fate to play into our hands? We're just two of many working on the job. It's quite possible that the blasted Jap force has already been spotted by one of the other chaps, and our force isn't going to further risk revealing its position by recalling us. Maybe—"
"Here, here, put on the brakes, pal!" Dawson laughed, and nodded his head at the radio. "If and when that Jap force is sighted we'll all be recalled and pronto. We'll be needed in the scrap, and how!"
"Yes, of course, you're right," Freddy said with a slightly sheepish grin. "Still—"