Stan felt the Nardi hit bottom. The thought flashed through his mind that they were in shallow water. At a moment like this, cold, unwavering control of mind and body was necessary. One moment of panic meant death. Stan gritted his teeth and heaved hard. His waist pulled free and suddenly he was floating upward. His lungs were bursting with fire and his hands smarted, but he stroked hard and a few seconds later he burst out of the water, blowing and flailing. The first thing he saw was the PT boat. It was circling the spot where the Nardi had disappeared. Its skipper waved to Stan and shouted.
"Keep afloat! We'll toss you a line!"
"Thanks!" Stan shouted back.
The line came out as the boat moved closer. Stan grabbed it. Two sailors hauled him aboard. He was met by a grinning young lieutenant, junior grade.
"I sure appreciate the lift," Stan said and grinned.
The skipper stared at him. "A Yank!" he exclaimed. "Where did you get the Eity plane?"
"It was loaned to me by Italian friends," Stan replied. "I have important papers which need to be dried," he added.
"And some dry clothes," the skipper said. "Come below."
They went below and the lieutenant introduced himself. "I'm Lieutenant Del Ewing."
"I'm Lieutenant Stan Wilson, Army Air Corps," Stan said. "I have been a guest of the Italians for more weeks than are good for anyone."