“This is terrible!” Jack groaned. “We’ll never find him now.”
“You don’t know these natives.” Mary Brown settled back in the stern. “They can find any living thing on the sea.”
“It will be keen if they find Ted and his plane in this rain,” said Stew. “That way, if his plane is still afloat, we can tow it ashore and hide it in some cove without being seen by the Japs or the Germans. And then! Boy! If that plane can be made to fly we’ll leave your little old island, Mary Brown, and we’ll take you along!”
“That sounds wonderful to me,” she laughed. “I’ll become the mascot of your carrier, or maybe its jinx.”
“I’m leaving the island in that jet plane.” Jack did not laugh.
“How will you manage it?” Mary asked soberly.
“Don’t know yet,” Jack admitted. “But you wait! We’ll manage it some way. It just has to be done!”
In a surprisingly short time Mary had her natives in their canoes around the end of the island and ready to undertake the search.
CHAPTER XXII
STAR OF THE MIST
For an hour, with the brown natives bending their stout backs to send the canoes shooting forward, they glided along through the mist. It was not raining hard—only a fine spray coming down. They were soaked to the skin, but no one minded that for the air was warm.