“We’re a bit ahead of schedule,” he explained, “because of the extra speed we made on the surface. Coming into Panama, we’ve got to surface and run exactly on schedule and on course. Patrol craft and planes are expecting us and they’ll bomb us out of sight if we’re five minutes off schedule or two degrees off course.” When they resumed speed, on the surface, March checked the boat’s position regularly to make sure of their course. The first time a big Martin PBM-1 shot out of a cloud ahead of them, March felt his throat grow dry. If they were _not_ exactly where they should be at that moment, he knew what would happen to a beautiful new sub and about sixty-four good men of Uncle Sam’s Navy. But the patrol plane just circled low overhead, gunned its motors and flew away. He knew that its radio reported the sub’s position to other patrol craft, and that they would be checked up on regularly. Two other planes came over for a look on their way in toward the Canal, and for the last twenty-five miles they were sighted by half a dozen surface ships. “Are we to go right on through without stopping?” March asked the Skipper. “Stop long enough to take on the Canal pilot,” he replied. “Nothing else.” The Skipper was on the bridge, along with Corvin, as they ran alongside the jetty leading to the first locks. As they tied up at the dock below the locks, Corvin stepped ashore. He came back shortly with a gray-haired man who would pilot them through the Canal. The weather was clear and the sun beat down warmly, so half the crew were lined up on the deck, and all hatches were open. All officers were on the bridge, except McFee, who stayed below in charge. Even Stan left his Diesels long enough to come up for a look at the Canal, for all the submarine’s engines were off as they were pulled through the locks by the little donkey engines running on tracks alongside. The Canal pilot came aboard and climbed to the bridge. Lines were cast, cables attached fore and aft to the donkey engines on both sides, and they began to move forward on the pilot’s orders. Ahead March saw the huge steel doors into the first lock. Slowly and steadily the pigboat moved into the chamber, and the great doors swung silently shut behind them. Then water rushed into the lock and the boat gently moved upward as the surface of the water rose. Soon they were level with the water in the next lock and the gates ahead of them swung back against the walls. They saw, in the lock next to them, a battered destroyer heading the other direction. “She’s been through something, all right,” Gray commented. “Going home for repairs.” The crew on the destroyer waved to the men on _Kamongo_ and for a time there were shouts back and forth. Then they had moved out of the second lock into Gatun Lake, as the destroyer sank down in its lock toward the level of the ocean.