Having watched them as they made their search and noted their landing, the pilot of a huge four-motored bomber came circling back. By code messages they made contact with their headquarters. Plans were made and orders given. The big bomber that had turned back was to supply the young Lord with extra gasoline, then was to pick up the seamen and bring them to England. The young Lord and his crew were to carry Cherry and the seven children to America.
“And after that,” the Squadron Commander’s voice boomed over the air, “the young Lord Applegate and his crew are to have a two-weeks’ leave in America. Good-luck and fine flying!”
“Cherry,” Alice teased, when their supreme moment was at an end, “you have your voice now. You should go straight back to England.”
“Oh, no!” Cherry threw up her hands. “I—I started to America. I’m still on my way. Beside,” she added soberly. “There are the children.”
Ah, yes, there were the children, Tillie, Peggy and five others. How brave they had been through all the long hours, only Cherry could tell. As they climbed aboard the plane, all undaunted, Peggy, the little alley rat from the London slums, struck up, “Roll out the Barrel.” And they all joined in.
“But, Cherry,” Dave asked when once again they were headed for America, “how did your voice come back?”
“Oh!” Cherry laughed. “It was the night our ship was attacked. We had been fired upon, the ship was sinking. Boats were being swamped by the waves. But through it all we must keep the children calm and in line. There’s nothing like singing in a time like that. I thought of a song, a silly, terrible, glorious song. Its words were on my lips. I opened my mouth. The words came out, “Roll out the Barrel.” ‘And we’ll all have fun.
When we roll out the barrel.’
“The children sang. We all sang. We all remained calm. And we got away.
“Some of us got away,” she added soberly. “But my voice, that was a miracle, I guess. God knew I needed it so very, very badly for that trying hour.”