Pat covered the other flyer with his machine gun. Tim recognized the pilot as the man who had flown the amphibian for Sladek on the trip to Cedar river valley. Fierce anger glowed in the eyes of the other pilot, but he remained silent as Tim scrambled onto the right pontoon and made his way toward the rear cockpit. "Don't try any funny business," Tim warned. "My partner's got an itchy trigger finger." "You'll never get away with this," snarled the other. "Don't let that trouble you," retorted Tim. "You'd better worry how you're going to get away from here. You know if we decided to put a few holes in your pontoons it would be a long swim to the _Iron Mate_ and the sharks might be hungry." "You wouldn't dare do that." "You tried to sink the _S-18_," snapped Tim. "Now get out of that cockpit and crawl down on the other pontoon." "What are you going to do?" "Shut up and get down on the pontoon like he told you," roared Pat, waving his gun menacingly. The pilot of the disabled plane obeyed the command and Tim scrambled into the cockpit. In the bottom was what he had hoped for, half a dozen small, high-explosive bombs. In less than five minutes he transferred the deadly cargo to his own plane. "Thanks a lot for the pineapples," he yelled at the disgruntled flyer clinging to the pontoon. "I guess we won't sink your plane after all." "Give me those surprise parties," said Pat. "You can't gauge air speed," replied Tim. "I can fly and handle the bombing at the same time. We'll go low and you may be able to rake the deck of the _Iron Mate_ with your gun." Pat grinned and gave voice to a wild, Irish battle cry as the Sea King leaped into the air. There was a gun both fore and aft on the _Iron Mate_, and both of them were firing steadily at the _S-18_ when the Sea King flashed over the first time. Pat, leaning over the edge of the cockpit, let a blistering blast of fire loose and Tim dropped one of the bombs. It struck a scant 25 yards beyond the _Iron Mate_, sending a great spray of water into the air. Banking the Sea King sharply, they swept back toward the tramp steamer. Men were running excitedly about the deck for the attack from the air had taken them by surprise. Again Pat raked the deck with fire while Tim, working rapidly, dropped two bombs overboard. The first one missed, falling short, but the second struck only a few feet from the gun on the fore deck. There was a shattering blast of flame and smoke, the scream of rent steel, and the cries of frightened men. Relentlessly the Sea King bore down again. This time Tim aimed at the after deck. There were only three bombs left. He swooped low, dropping only one of the missiles, but he had the range and scored a direct hit. In less than a minute both guns had been put out of commission and the ship badly damaged. "We'll plant another 'egg' midships and then call it a day," yelled Tim.