Dawson held the plane at low cruising throttle, and on a general southwesterly compass course for the next ten minutes. Then Freddy Farmer came back with his findings.
"Not too bad, Dave," he announced. "It might have been a whole lot worse, considering. The blasted thing blew us about sixty-five miles east of our true course. Here's your new course."
Dave took Freddy's new course instructions with a heavy heart. True, he was glad that they had survived the terrible storm, and that that howling wind hadn't driven them even farther off course. However, it was bad enough as it was. They were still a good two hours' calm weather flying from their objective, and as close as he could figure it, they had just about an hour and three quarters supply of fuel left in the tanks. Perhaps if they eased up gently for altitude they might make that last fifteen minutes with gliding. But it certainly wasn't a chance for even a fool to bet on.
"Oke, and thanks, pal," he said aloud in a cheerful voice. "Be there presently, I figure. We'd both better keep our eyes skinned, now that it's starting to get light. We're in a Jap-infested part of the world now. And if those rats that have taken the northern sections of the Philippines have got any air patrols out, we may have to do a wee bit of detouring."
"That's quite all right, Dave, old thing," Freddy Farmer said quietly. "Don't try to be a liar, old chap, just to make me feel good. I've done a little figuring myself, Dave. Unless we have the good fortune to pick up a tail wind, we're going to have a very touch and go fifteen minutes at the end of this trip."
"But we'll make it, kid," Dave said grimly. "And that's a promise from me to you. Count on it. Sure wish we had a load of bombs along, though."
"A load of bombs?" the English youth echoed. "Why in the world bombs? You plan to blast out a spot to land? Say in the water, if our gas doesn't last?"
"I was thinking of MacArthur's boys on Bataan, and Corregidor!" Dawson said grimly. "I'd certainly give plenty to lay some eggs on the little brown rats pestering those fellows. What a scrap they've put up. History that will never die. And even if the darn Japs do finally push them out, it'll be a mighty hollow victory. I bet it's one big surprise to those pint-sized butchers that the Philippines are no push-over."
"No place would be a push-over with General MacArthur in command, I fancy," Freddy murmured. "He's one of the finest generals of all time."
"Check and double check!" Dawson echoed instantly. "And could we do with a dozen like him. But—Hold it! Hold everything, Freddy! Dead ahead, there. Is that landfall, or just a trick of my eyes?"