“And so we must stick to our post for it may happen all over again.”
In the quiet days that followed there was an hour of dancing every night. These were hours of real joy for Sally. The Captain, apparently considering that he had shown her all due courtesy, seldom asked for a dance. This left her free to enjoy Fred and his fellow fliers. Erma Stone seemed to have forgotten her, but this, she told herself, was only a lull before another storm.
One night while she stood by the rail, watching the black waters roll by and thinking gloomy thoughts, she suddenly found the Captain at her side.
“I just wanted to tell you, Sally,” there was a mellow tone in his voice, “that I haven’t forgotten Danny. I shall never forget him. He was one of my finest. I am hoping our paths may cross yet.”
“How—how can they?” she asked huskily.
“We are taking this convoy to a certain port in England. There it will be split up into smaller groups and convoyed by other fighting ships to other ports.”
“That leaves us free?” There was a glad ring in her voice.
“Yes. We will follow the same course back. We have the spot where Danny was lost marked on the chart and have a record of currents and winds that may carry him off our course.”
“Then you really think there is a chance?”
“Most certainly, a real chance. We shall send out planes and scour the sea.”