"You two make me tired."

CHAPTER V

O'MALLEY BAGS A JERRY GUN

No call came for Red Flight until late afternoon. Other flights roared
away to strafe the French coast, or to meet incoming bomber formations,
or to do scout duty; but Allison and his crew just sat around and
groused. O'Malley's good humor finally broke down and he began prowling
around hurling choice Irish words at the mess crew.

When the call did come, he was out of the room like a wild bushman. By
the time Allison and Stan reached the cab rank, he was jerking his hatch
cover into place and feeling out his Merlin.

"You'd think the boy was off to raid Berlin," Allison said sourly. "All
we have is a call from a few barges of coal."

Red Flight roared out and up, heading toward the channel. Stan had
checked his instruments carefully. Everything seemed to be in working
order, though he could not be sure of his wing guns until he opened them
up.

"Keep in close," Allison's voice droned.

They were up now and heading for the channel where a few big clouds hung
over the sea. So far as Stan could see they were kings of the air and
there might have been no war on at all. Not a wing was in sight except
their own.

"Red Flight, level off."

They leveled off and headed for a big cloud. That seemed the most likely
hunting ground. The three Spitfires were not up high because the clouds
were hanging over the sea. Below, Stan saw the cause of their call.
Seven of the foulest old tubs he had ever laid an eye on were churning
and wallowing in the choppy sea. Their propellers thrashed the water
into tawny foam. Their plates were scarred and patched with daubs of
vermillion. Red, rusty streams of water trickled down their sides. Seven
piles of rust, grime and junk belching smoke like so many volcanoes.
Coasters and not one of them over twelve hundred tons.

The boats rode high and Stan decided they were making the run from
Portsmouth to London under ballast to pick up coal. Running what was
supposed to be a death channel the old tubs would slide under the big
coastal guns of the Germans. In a few days they would plough back loaded
with coal. Their audacity made Stan grin. The British were certainly a
stubborn race of people and when they had a sea course marked out they
stayed with it. A sleek gray destroyer nosed the string of ancient boats
along like a nervous hound herding a flock of fat pigs.

"Two bandits coming out of a cloud, quarter right,"