"

"I don't know," the English-born air ace replied with a shrug of his
shoulders. "Frankly, though, I don't think I'm annoyed by this message.
Fact is, I'm just a bit glad. Much rather see him tonight, instead of
waiting until we get to Natal."

Dawson grinned faintly, and nodded.

"Yeah, I get what you mean," he murmured. "Maybe there's a connection
between this and what happened a while ago, eh?"

"If not, I'll be very much surprised," Freddy Farmer said slowly. "And
yet I may be a bit balmy to say that. How could there possibly be any
connection?"

Dawson shrugged, but made no reply. He stuffed the coded message into
his pocket, and turned to where Major Parker was inspecting the Vultee.

"Thanks for giving us the message, sir," he said. Then he added with a
grin, "It sort of looks as though we've been fired, you might say. Our
superior officer is joining us here at midnight. Would it be all right
for us to eat in the Officers' Club and sort of kill time until he gets
here?"

"Certainly, Dawson," the major replied at once. "The place is yours.
Help yourself to anything you like. So your survey flight is called off,
eh?"

"Well, temporarily, anyway," Dave replied. "But don't ask me why,
because I wouldn't know, Major."

"Okay, I won't," the other smiled. "I'll ask you this, instead. What
kind of trouble did you run into on the way down here?"

"Trouble, Major?" Dawson echoed, and stared at him hard.

"These holes," the senior officer replied, and pointed to a cluster of
four bullet holes six inches in from the Vultee's left wing tip.
"Somebody been sticking a pencil through the wing skin, eh?"

"No; Nazi slugs," Dawson told him. "We--we came across a surfacing
U-boat about eighty miles out. It crash dived right after it sighted us,
but it threw up a few slugs in the meantime. We got a couple of its
crew, though. We radioed Puerto Rico patrol base and gave them the
U-boat's position. Have you heard any report that she was caught and
nailed?"

"None," the major said, and then pointed across the field. "We wouldn't
get that sort of thing, anyway. This is a British-owned base, you know.
That we're here is a sort of lend-lease in reverse, you might say. And
radio stuff such as your call would be picked up by them over there. Too
bad, though, you didn't have a couple of depth charges aboard."

"You're telling me, sir?" Dawson echoed with a grim laugh. "I'd have
given my right eye for just one! I don't thi