ng and hope the R.A.F.
life jacket was as good as it was supposed to be. He stared downward at
the choppy surface that seemed to sweep upward to meet him, gritting his
teeth to drive fear away. This was a chance every channel flier took ...
and sometimes they were rescued.

He handled the chute controls skillfully, easing himself down with the
wind while he fought to loosen the buckles that held the straps tightly
about him. If he went into the water with that chute dragging him down
there wouldn't be any chance of eventual rescue.

As his numbed fingers tore at the buckles he wondered what it felt like
to drown. The sea was close now. A bleak gray expanse of waves that
reached hungry arms upward to receive another human sacrifice. One
buckle came free, then another. He ripped himself out of the harness and
plummeted down the last ten feet, his body driving deep into the icy
cold water.

He came to the surface sputtering and beating the water madly, then
remembered the life jacket he wore, and let its buoyancy support him
while he took stock of the situation.

It looked hopeless. He was a single tiny speck floating on a vast
expanse of sea where every surface craft was subject to attack and more
intent on making port than searching for downed fliers. The sky overhead
was clear of planes now. He wondered if anyone had seen him bailing out.
He had reported he was short of gas. If either Allison or O'Malley made
it back safely, he had a hunch they wouldn't rest until they returned to
search the sea for him or the wreckage of his plane.

That was his only hope. Any other rescue would be purely accidental. The
icy fingers of the water were eating into his flesh. The heavy flying
togs were becoming water-soaked, dragging him down. He didn't know how
long he could hold out. He tried to swim toward the dimly distant shore
line, but the waves battered him back and the numbing cold stole away
his strength.

He forced himself to relax, let the life jacket support him. It might be
hours before rescue came. It looked hopeless, but a man never gave up
hope while life remained in his body. If he could keep his head above
water, keep from swallowing too much of the salt sea, he could last a
few hours at least.

And he clung to the belief that Allison or O'Malley would return to look
for him. Though he didn't know just what either of them could do if they
did spot him from the sky. If one of them could get hold of a seaplane
he