Realizing that it was useless to pick up the two parachutists by seaplane, the Japs were going to hold Dave and Freddy at bay by the sheer power of their concentrated fire, and steam alongside the two spies, who were no longer floating down through the air, but had hit the water and were floating around in their orange-colored life jackets. Dave cast a quick glance down at those two gobs of orange in the water, and groaned in bitter exasperation. How simple if Freddy and he were fighting on Adolf Hitler's and Hirohito's side! All he would have to do would be to stick the nose down at those two orange spots in the water and no more than brush his finger across the trigger button of his guns. Just a short burst and two rats would be dead, never to reveal what they knew. How simple, how easy it would be to do it that way! But he couldn't. And he knew that deep in his heart, and in his soul. No matter how much he hated the Nazis and the Japs, and all the ruthless, rotten things they stood for, it wasn't a hate that could make him murder in cold blood. He and Freddy would have to accomplish their purpose some other way. Some other way? Those three words exploded in his brain like bombs. As more shells from the cruisers' guns exploded well overhead, he twisted around in the seat and stared at Freddy Farmer. The English youth was gripping his guns with white knuckles and staring down at the floating spies. But stamped on Freddy's face was the very same thing that was in Dave's brain. It would be so very, very simple. Yet it couldn't be done. It wasn't the way of the civilized white man. "We've got to try it, Freddy!" Dave shouted, and was conscious of the dry tightness in his throat. "It's our only hope--our only one. If either cruiser gets alongside those two rats in the water--" Dave stopped and let a shrug speak the rest. Freddy turned his eyes from the surface of the water, looked at him, and nodded grimly. "Quite!" he said, tight-lipped. "Us against those two blasted cruisers. We're mad even to try it. If a single one of their shells gets close before we've got rid of our torpedo and bombs, why then--" It was Freddy's turn to cut off his words, and let a gesture of his hand finish the sentence. "Yeah, we'd probably come down on the moon, or on a star!" Dave shouted, and banked the Devastator around toward the north. "We can get one with our torpedo, and go after the other with our bombs. Darn it, anything to stop them from picking up those two rats, finding out things, and getting busy on the radio. It's a job that can't be done, Freddy. But, heck! We've got to _do_ it!" "Then get on with it!" the English youth cried. "They may try to catapult more planes, and we certainly can't do a million different things at once." "Here we go!" Dave roared, and pushed the Devastator's nose down. "Good luck to us both, Freddy. And it's been nice knowing you, pal!"