oice made both youths start a little. Dawson
quickly got control of himself, and shrugged.

"We're very glad to be rescued," he said in a flat voice. "But in
another couple of days the fleet would have been back from up north, and
we'd probably have been sighted."

The Nazi arched his eyebrows and looked politely impressed. That is,
save for his eyes. In their depths flickered pin points of polished
steel.

"From up north, eh?" he murmured. "All the five carriers are returning
in two days, yes?"

"That was the plan of operation, and--" Dave said, and then stopped
himself, and bit his lip.

Freddy Farmer had of course been waiting for just such an opening, and
he quickly took advantage of it.

"Keep your mouth shut, Dave!" he cried in an expert burst of anger.
"Besides, it all depends upon their rendezvous with Task Forces Seven
and Ten."

"Now who's blabbing?" Dave snarled, and whirled on him. "Why don't you
keep your big mouth shut, too?"

Freddy started to make a blistering retort but simply went through the
facial motions of being about to say it.

"Oh, what does it matter, anyway?" he finally said sullenly. "If they've
been patrolling these waters they know as much about these things as we
do. Quite a bit more, I fancy."

"Ah!" the Nazi breathed hard. "So you are English, yes? Now I understand
your words. The English always quit before the battle is completely
lost. Look at Dunkirk. They ran from us there. And Greece, and Crete.
And even at Singapore and Malaya you ran from the brave Japanese. Yes,
yes. What does it matter now? You English know in your dirty hearts that
you can never win!"

Real, honest to goodness anger blazed up in Freddy's face, and for one
terrible moment Dawson feared that his English pal was going to hurl
himself bare-handed at the Nazi. Freddy, however, managed to keep a firm
grip on himself, and he eyed the German coldly.

"The opinion of a Nazi is unimportant," he said in a scathing voice. "It
always has been among the peoples of the civilized world."

The U-boat commander, however, was not to be excited into anything.
Perhaps he was too comfortable in his chair. Perhaps for once in his
baby-killing life he decided that brute violence wouldn't gain him what
he wanted. So instead he laughed at Freddy as one might laugh at a
little boy who has suddenly flown into a childish tantrum.

"Even save the life of an Englishman, and he is still an ungrateful
dog," he finally sneere