Freddy Farmer had of course been waiting for just such an opening, and he quickly took advantage of it.
"Keep your mouth shut, Dave!" he cried in an expert burst of anger. "Besides, it all depends upon their rendezvous with Task Forces Seven and Ten."
"Now who's blabbing?" Dave snarled, and whirled on him. "Why don't you keep your big mouth shut, too?"
Freddy started to make a blistering retort but simply went through the facial motions of being about to say it.
"Oh, what does it matter, anyway?" he finally said sullenly. "If they've been patrolling these waters they know as much about these things as we do. Quite a bit more, I fancy."
"Ah!" the Nazi breathed hard. "So you are English, yes? Now I understand your words. The English always quit before the battle is completely lost. Look at Dunkirk. They ran from us there. And Greece, and Crete. And even at Singapore and Malaya you ran from the brave Japanese. Yes, yes. What does it matter now? You English know in your dirty hearts that you can never win!"
Real, honest to goodness anger blazed up in Freddy's face, and for one terrible moment Dawson feared that his English pal was going to hurl himself bare-handed at the Nazi. Freddy, however, managed to keep a firm grip on himself, and he eyed the German coldly.
"The opinion of a Nazi is unimportant," he said in a scathing voice. "It always has been among the peoples of the civilized world."
The U-boat commander, however, was not to be excited into anything. Perhaps he was too comfortable in his chair. Perhaps for once in his baby-killing life he decided that brute violence wouldn't gain him what he wanted. So instead he laughed at Freddy as one might laugh at a little boy who has suddenly flown into a childish tantrum.
"Even save the life of an Englishman, and he is still an ungrateful dog," he finally sneered. "But all this does not interest me. So you have five carriers, eh? And they are up north meeting two other task forces, eh? That is interesting. What are they doing up there?"