"Yeah, like a couple of helpless sardines, probably," Dave murmured. "Yes, I guess I can think of more comfortable flights I've had, too. Oh, well, a guy can always hope." And with that listless comment Dave lapsed into brooding silence, and Freddy Farmer joined him. For quite some time neither of them spoke. What was there to say, anyway? What was there to say that hadn't already been spoken? Absolutely nothing. And so it was better just to sit and keep one's thoughts to oneself. What the future would bring it would bring, and that was that! After a long, long spell of mutual silence a sudden change in the movement of the U-boat told them both that the undersea craft was going up to the surface. Dawson grunted and sat up a little straighter. "Up we go," he grunted. "So things will be happening soon." "Can't say I'd be mad if said things were bombs dropping on this thing from a chance plane or two of ours!" Freddy Farmer growled. "The way I feel right now, I don't think I'd mind at all. Oh, blast it! I guess that gun slap from that Jap rotter did do something to my nerve. I feel in an awful funk, Dave." "Swell, perfect, pal!" Dave said with a chuckle. "Keep right on feeling that way, and everything will be okay." "Not much it will!" the English youth grated. "And what the deuce do you mean by that crack, anyway?" "I mean that I've seen you like this before, and plenty!" Dawson told him, and squeezed his arm in the darkness. "And those other times you just hauled back and knocked 'em high, wide and handsome. So it's okay by me, kid. Very much okay. You'll get us some action, if I don't." "Thanks, old thing," Freddy said with a faint huskiness in his voice. "And I am a rotter to try and drag you down, too. Sorry no end, Dave. I'll try and buck up and not be such a wet wack." "Wet _smack!_" Dave corrected with a laugh. "Holy smokes! Aren't you ever going to learn to speak the language, huh?" The English youth grunted, but before he could make any reply to that there came the final lurching motion as the U-boat broke surface, and even in their steel-walled prison they could hear the sounds of feverish activity. A moment or two later they could tell that the U-boat was motionless on the surface. And then more sounds, the whine and grind of turning gears, caused them to guess that the small seaplane was being hoisted up out of its hold hangar. Suddenly, Dave began to chuckle softly. And Freddy Farmer peered at him in the darkness. "What's wrong with you, Dave?" he asked, "What's so blasted funny?" "I was just thinking," Dawson replied. "Remember that stuffed shirt ground major at the Broome field in Australia?" "The one whose feet you dusted off with the prop-wash of the plane?" the English youth echoed. "Yes, I remember him. What about him?"