After listening in vain for any sound of enemy subs, she drew on slacks, slippers, and a heavy bathrobe, and went out on the deck. As she passed along toward the ladder leading to the flight deck above, she saw gunners standing like wax statues by their guns.
“There won’t be any subs tonight,” she paused to whisper. “I have had my radio on for half an hour. Not a sound.”
“Perhaps not,” was the low response. “But the Skipper isn’t taking any chances.”
“Boy! We gave them subs plenty, comin’ over,” came from another statue. “I’ll bet we got twenty of them.”
“Not that many, Old Kentuck,” said another statue. “But plenty. And they say it’s on account of one of them WAVES having some queer sort of radio. Great little dame, I’d say.”
“Sure brought us a lot of luck!” said the first shadow.
“They haven’t recognized me!” Sally thought, feeling all sort of good inside. “And I won’t tell them. That would spoil it. I’ve always thought it would be fun to be famous, if nobody ever found it out.” Wrapping her robe a little more tightly about her, she climbed the ladder to the flight deck where she could get a better view of the sea.
The view was worth the climb. Riding high, the moon had painted a path of gold across the sea. They were heading into the wind. They cut across long lines of low waves. All this made the boat seem to race like mad over the sea.
“It won’t be long now,” she whispered. Then her heart sank. “Three days,” the Old Man had said. “Three days and we’ll be near the spot where Danny was last seen.”
“Oh, Danny Boy!” she sang softly. “Oh, Danny Boy!”