“If I am granted a transfer to the Sea Patrol I shall ask that we be allowed to patrol that portion of the air over the Atlantic beneath which the Queen Bess was fired upon and sunk.” “I see.” The commander’s face was thoughtful. “That is not all.” The lines on the young Lord’s brow deepened. “I shall ask that we be allowed to carry two five-hundred pound bombs and be commissioned to search for the merciless sea raider that sank that shipload of children. It is still at large.” The commander nodded. “She attacked a convoy last night. Gave no warning. Sank three ships, then was away.” For a moment the commander sat staring at the wall. “It’s very irregular,” he murmured. “This is an irregular war, not fought by rules. Fought by men. Thank God for that!” The young Lord’s chin was up. “All right. I’ll see what I can do.” The commander stood up. “Report to me here at noon.” The young Lord saluted, then marched away. An hour later he was engaged in a heated argument with his good friend, Alice. “But, Alice!” his voice rose. “It’s impossible! A woman on a sea-patrol bomber! Suppose we catch up with that ruthless pirate.” “All right.” Alice stood up sturdy and tall. “Suppose we do?” “It won’t be a one-sided fight. That raider carries anti-aircraft guns. Death may be waiting at those crossroads of the sea.” “Death.” Alice’s voice was low. “In this war not just young men are giving their lives for the land they love. Men and women and children are. It’s everybody’s war. “Harm!” (She seldom used that name of other days. In her soul was written traditional homage to nobility.) “It is Cherry who is out there on those black waters. Our Cherry! Peggy and Tillie are with her. A woman’s eyes are always sharper than a man’s. Always when we were children it was my eyes, not yours, that saw the lark soaring skyward or the finches hiding in the hedges. Harman, let me go!” “But the farm, Alice?” The young Lord was weakening. “Surely you can spare Jeff Weeks and his wife for a few days to look after this farm.” “A few days? Yes. But suppose it is forever?” The young Lord’s voice was low. “Alice, more important than our search for Cherry, much as we all love her, is to be our hunt for the sea-raider. And if we find it there will be no quarter! It shall be that ship or our plane. Such is war.” “If it is to be forever?” There was a smile on the girl’s lips. “We die but once. The farm will not matter. Let me go!” The young Lord threw up his hands. “I surrender,” he whispered hoarsely. And so it happened that, when the transfer had been granted and the young Lord had been put in command of a sea-scouting bomber, one of the fastest in the service, and when it sailed away into the blue, it carried not five but six men. One of these “men” had short, bobbed hair, and as he stood by the one-legged, gray-haired rear gunner, he looked remarkably like a girl.