The great motors of the plane roared into action again as Vernon finished speaking. He motioned her to lie back and rest, for even his voice was not yet strong enough to carry above that roar.
Nancy had a struggle to force her mind to any degree of calmness. The swift changes of the last few minutes and her renewed hope about Tommy brought an enervating reaction.
Though the island where Tommy had been marooned was the goal of their sailing from the time Olan learned of it, Nancy could scarcely believe they had actually come within reasonable range of it. That the rescue expedition, which she had instigated back on Koshu Island, would be the means of saving her own life, too, seemed now almost uncanny. This war had certainly woven some strange and incredible designs into the tapestry of life.
So relieved was she to sink into the comfort of that berth and know she would be taken back to safety, that not even her suspense about Tommy kept off her drowsiness as the plane gained height. She felt as she once had when going under an anesthetic.
Some time later a gentle hand on her cheek roused her. “We’re flying over the island,” Vernon said in her ear.
She was confused for a moment, then asked, “Is there a window where I can look out?”
He helped her down and over to a window from where she could see the verdant blotch entirely surrounded by a blue lagoon fringed with reefs on which tumbling waves broke, an emerald set in sapphire and pearls. The plane crossed the island at great height, then circled and came back much lower, just leaving a safe margin above the towering palms.
“He signaled from the western shore,” Vernon said.
Nancy saw the gunner’s hand tremble violently as he steadied himself against the seat in front.
The great ship roared south, then north above the western shore of the island.