e, and
were obviously disappointed. Then a shrill order in sing-song Japanese
snapped the look of disappointment from their slant-eyed faces. They
grunted at the two boys and then nodded toward the conning tower bridge
where the Nazi commander of the craft stood waiting. They went over and
up the short companion ladder with a couple of Japs sticking
conveniently at their heels. They halted in front of the bull-necked
German, who eyed them as though he'd never seen a couple of white men in
his life before. Which, of course, was quite possible, in view of the
fact he was of German birth.

Then, suddenly, he exploded in a booming voice that almost blew the boys
over.

"What's the name of your carrier?" he thundered. "And how long ago were
you shot down?"

Dawson hesitated a moment, and then let him have it. In a very meek and
humble voice, too.

"We weren't assigned to any special carrier, sir," he said. "We flew off
any one of the five of them. And we've been in the water for about a
week now. No, call it an even eight days."

The Nazi's eyes widened and he blinked them hard.

"What's this?" he cried.

Before he could get his breath to say anything else, one of the Jap
naval officers stepped forward.

"He lies, _Kommandant_," he said in perfect German. "All American pigs
lie. The United States have not five carriers left in all of their navy.
Besides, we know these two were shot down by our plane yesterday."

The two words "our plane" had all of the effect on Dawson of a swift
punch to the jaw. Impulsively he raced his eyes along the length of the
U-boat, and particularly the forward end. It was then that he spotted
telltale objects that told him the truth, and cleared up a little of the
mystery of yesterday's meeting in the air with that strange seaplane. In
short, he saw a plane hoist secured to the port side of the forward
deck. It was fastened down in a horizontal position, but it could be
raised upright at a moment's notice. He also saw that just about the
entire forward deck consisted of two hatch covers that could be folded
back to make a good sized opening in the deck. And although he could not
look down through the steel plates to what was below, he had the very
definite feeling that stowed neatly in the forward hold of the U-boat
was that strange type seaplane with its wings folded back.
Airplane-carrying submarines were nothing new to Dawson, or to Freddy
Farmer, either. But it was a bit of a shock