For the next hour Barry flew the big bomber, while her “Old Man” dozed in his seat. Below them the clouds continued unbroken. The moonlight on their gleaming crests and ridges gave the young co-pilot a queer sensation. It was hard not to believe that he was guiding a fantastic ship over the surface of a strange planet, thousands of light-years from Earth. In the lightless cockpit nothing seemed real. “You fool—snap out of it!” Barry found himself muttering. “You’re heading into dreamland with your throttles wide. And that blur on the window isn’t imagination—_it’s oil_!” ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER SIX SUBMARINES TO THE RIGHT “A cracked cylinder!” was Fred Marmon’s verdict, the minute he saw the oil spray on the window. “How near are we to landing, navigator?” “Less than an hour,” Lieutenant Levitt answered, “provided there’s enough ceiling under those clouds.” “I think there will be,” Captain O’Grady told them. “See! There’s a break in the overcast, dead ahead. We’ll go downstairs for a look.” Taking over the controls, he nosed the _Rosy_ downward through the black hole in the clouds. A moment later Barry could see moonlight glinting on the wave crests. At a thousand feet the Fortress leveled out. Above her the cloud scuff was breaking up rapidly. “Got that radio damage located yet, Babbitt?” O’Grady asked through the interphone. “We really ought to let Trinidad know that we’re on our way in, so they won’t be throwing up a lot of flak at us.” “I’ll have the trouble fixed in about five minutes, sir,” Soapy replied. “Good thing we have plenty of spare parts. What that freak lightning bolt did to us was a caution!” Just ahead a dark land mass rose out of the sea. “That’s the upper jaw of the ‘Dragon’s Mouth,’” O’Grady remarked. “Trinidad is just beyond. I’m going upstairs again, until Soapy gets our radio working.” The big bomber nosed sharply upward. For a few moments she clawed her way in almost pitch darkness through a cloud. Then the moonlight shone clear through the windows. Suddenly a shaft of brilliant light burst through a rent in the scuff below them. Other searchlights stabbed upward. A sharp detonation jarred the Fortress. “Antiaircraft shell!” grunted _Rosy’s_ Old Man. “Evidently they don’t like unidentified planes cruising over the airfield. We’d better spin off.” WHAMM! BLAMM! Two shells, still closer than the first, made the big plane rock. Tex O’Grady pulled the stick back between his knees and gave the engine full throttle. “Guess those hombres mean business, Blake,” he chuckled. “How do you like being under fire for the first time?” “I don’t know,” replied Barry with a forced grin. “Somehow it doesn’t seem quite real, being shot at by your own ground forces. The trouble is that those shells would hurt just as much as Jap flak.” [Illustration: _“Radio’s Okay, Sir!” Came Soapy Babbitt’s Voice_]