"Yes, quite," Freddy grunted. Then, "Except for one thing, old bean."
"Such as?"
"Such as the radio that would be in the Jap plane," the English youth replied quickly. "If we could get a Jap plane."
Dawson chuckled in spite of the seriousness of the situation, and gave a little shake of his head.
"Leave it to the kid, here!" he breathed. "The firm's brains, that's what he is. But, kidding aside, you've got something, pal. I really think that maybe you have. With a Jap radio—and I guess one of them isn't too tough to work—we could sure tell the whole cockeyed world plenty. Boy, oh boy! Would that burn up Sasebo, to hear us telling the world about his force, where it is, and how many ships, and so forth. I bet he'd dive over the side, and commit hara-kiri on the way down!"
"Well, don't consider it as good as done," the English youth cautioned. "Stealing a plane in story books is quite simple, of course. But the real thing is quite something else. Just the same, though, I very definitely would like it that way."
"And while we're at it, let's shoot the works," Dawson said with a dry chuckle. "We'll not only swipe a plane, but we'll also swipe all of Sasebo's task force plans before we leave. And maybe even his samurai sword. Now, there is something that would sure get the guy's goat. And I don't mean perhaps!"
Freddy Farmer joined Dave in laughing, and then, suddenly, as their eyes met both sobered in a flash. All that had happened to them, and the terrific strain under which they were right then, was fast catching up with them. It was causing them to become just a bit light-headed, to talk through their hats, and—and, if they didn't call a halt, send them haywire like a couple of babbling idiots. They saw that approaching breaking point in each other's eyes. And it straightened them up, and fast.
"Well, anyway, we got some of it off our chests," Dawson muttered, and stared down at his red welt-marked wrists.
"Yes, quite," Freddy Farmer echoed absently. "And I fancy it helped a little. But I wonder what, Dave?"