From the rock came a roar of farewells. Then two bronze giants leaped into the water to push the plane away.
Ted set his motor roaring, slowed it to a crawl, then sent his fighter gliding out onto the moonlit sea.
A moment later, like wild birds separated for a time, two planes—one a fighter, the other a freak—came close to one another, then streaked away toward the western night skies.
Ted was in the lead. From time to time Jack banked this way and that, testing the jet plane. He went into a short spiral, then righted the plane to climb back into position.
“Boy!” he exclaimed. “This is the smoothest flying kite I ever hope to see!”
He wanted to tilt her nose and aim at the stars, to try out the plane in the stratosphere, but he could not be sure of the oxygen, and besides, he did not wish to lose contact with Ted. Ted had the chart showing the course the task force was taking. It would be easy to become lost on the vast Pacific, to run out of gas and fall into the sea. What a climax to an exciting adventure that would be!
The sky had cleared. The moon shone in all its glory. “No trouble finding the task force on such a night,” he said to Stew.
“None at all,” Stew agreed.
They zoomed along until Jack’s dial indicated that they had passed the halfway mark in their journey. Should overtake the Black Bee in another hour at the most, he thought.
Meanwhile in the plane ahead a transformation was taking place. The battered overnight bag that Mary had taken aboard contained all the small civilian articles she had possessed before leaving Corregidor—also her nurse’s uniform.