“From reports I have received, I am led to believe that the storm may not have passed over Danny’s part of the ocean. It was a tropical storm, violent in intensity, but narrow in scope.”
“Oh!” she breathed. “If that is only true. If it is—”
“It won’t be long now, Sally. Tonight we’ll say a prayer for Danny.”
“Let’s do,” she whispered.
“Captain,” she spoke again, “when the planes go out on the search, may Danny’s pal, Fred, fly a two-seater and may I ride in the second seat?”
“Yes, Sally, you just tell Fred I said he must take you for luck.”
A few moments later she was back in her quarters, saying her prayer for Danny.
The hour came at last when, on a wide open sea, the big ship came to a halt, turned half about to give the planes the advantage of the wind, then stood by while, one by one, they roared away.
“This is the beginning of the end,” Sally thought as she strapped on her parachute. Would it be a sad or a happy ending? She dared not hazard a guess. She did not dare to hope.
Their plane was slower in its upward climb than any that had gone before.