Dave Dawson on Guadalcanal Part 15

From a long way off came the faint rumble of sound. It grew louder and louder, and took on the steady, rhythmic beat of powerful engines giving of their best. Every so often a different sound broke through the rhythmic beat, but it faded out almost instantly, and the steady beat continued on forever--and ever--endlessly.

Seconds, minutes, and years dragged by, and then Dave Dawson was conscious of the fact that the rhythmic beat came from all about him, and that his body was absorbing the vibration of it. Not yet did it occur to him to try to move, or even to open his eyes. As a matter of fact, either of those physical accomplishments was far beyond his powers. And he continued to remain in a befuddled world of rhythmic beats, vibration, and darkness.

And then, suddenly, there was light all around him. But a few extra seconds ticked by before his half frozen brain could grasp the fact that his eyes had more or less automatically opened and that he was staring up at a light grey-painted ceiling and walls, and that up off to his left there was a round window through which light was pouring. He saw the ceiling, the grey-painted walls, and the round window, and although they registered upon his brain individually, they meant nothing to him as a whole.

More years dragged by, and the thought finally came to him to move his legs and his arms. He did so, but the pains that shot through his st.u.r.dy, youthful body caused him to gasp and groan, and relax completely to wait for the film of red to pa.s.s from his eyes. And when it did he saw the strained, anxious face of Freddy Farmer bending over him. The English youth's lips moved, and the words just barely seeped through Dawson's ears.

"Dave, old man, look at me! Speak to me, Dave! Are you all right? Oh, blast those devils! Dave! Come out of it. It's Freddy! This is Freddy Farmer. Your pal. _Dave!_"

A tiny spark was touched off in Dawson's brain, and the flame from it seemed to start strength surging through him. He licked his lips, swallowed, and gulped. Hardly realizing he was doing so, he pushed himself up onto one elbow. Then Freddy caught him around the shoulders and eased him up to a sitting position.

"Thank G.o.d!" the English youth sobbed. "Good grief, Dave, I thought you were a goner for sure!"

"What--what happened?" Dave mumbled, and the effort to speak made his throat burn. "What happened? Did we crash--or something? Bail out--and forget to pull the rip-cord, huh?"

"That blasted j.a.p!" Freddy Farmer grated. "He slipped, and you went cras.h.i.+ng down on the deck on your head. Man! I was sure you had been killed right then and there!"

Dawson blinked hard, put his finger tips to his temples and pressed as though he could push away the fog that clouded his brain.

"j.a.p?" he muttered thickly. "I fell on my head? What j.a.p, Freddy? What are you talking about? I haven't got a head. I've got _two_ of them.

Split right down the middle. And--Hey! What gives? What's this place?

Where the heck are we? What in thunder has happened, Freddy?"

Freddy Farmer didn't answer, because he wasn't there. He had moved away somewhere. But he returned almost immediately and held a gla.s.s of water to Dawson's lips. The Yank ace drank greedily, and the cold water did wonders for the burning in his throat. It also helped to drive the fog from his brain, and give him more strength in both mind and body.

"Thanks, pal!" he gasped when he had drained the gla.s.s of its last drop.

"You're a lifesaver, what I mean, kid. Thanks, plenty. Now, what in the world has happened?"

But even before Freddy Farmer could form the words with his lips, a little door in Dawson's brain seemed to pop open and vivid memory came rus.h.i.+ng back to him.

"My gosh, I catch!" he cried. "We had been trussed up by those j.a.ps, and they were carrying us up onto the deck of that U-boat! That j.a.p rat officer was going to fly us to the Suicide Sasebo's flags.h.i.+p. What happened? Did the dirty b.u.ms change their minds? And hey! We're not aboard any U-boat now! Or are we?"

"If you'll only shut up!" Freddy Farmer barked, but there was great joy glistening in his eyes. "Just keep that mouth of yours shut tight, and I'll tell you as much of it as I can."

"Okay, go ahead," Dave told him. "The lip is all zippered up, kid.

Shoot."

"Well, they trussed us up, and carried us out on deck," the English youth began. "The beggar who was carrying you, though, slipped and went flat. He just dumped you off, and you landed on your head. I guess it was your helmet that saved your life. At least, saved you from a nasty skull fracture. However, you went out cold, much to the amus.e.m.e.nt of the j.a.ps. And then--well, I blessed well hope I'll never have to live through anything like it again!"

The English-born air ace paused, and there were actually beads of sweat on his face. Dave gasped at him as he brushed them off with his hand.

"Then what, Freddy?" the Yank asked. "Oh! You mean because you thought I'd kicked the bucket? That my number had gone up?"

"Partly," the other replied. "But mostly because the j.a.ps decided that you wouldn't be of any use to them in that condition. That j.a.p officer blighter was about to have you just tossed into the water for shark food."

Dawson gulped hard, and every drop of blood seemed to drain right down through his feet, and on out of his body.

"Sweet tripe, no kidding?" he gagged. "Jeepers! And there I was not able to do a thing about it. Boy, oh boy! Praise be to Allah, they didn't!"

"I never want to live those minutes over again!" Freddy Farmer breathed fervently. "I tried to call out and tell them something that would stop them, but that confounded cord around my neck was digging in so deep that I could hardly breathe. And then you, yourself, got them to change their minds."

"Me?" Dave echoed wildly. "What in thunder did _I_ do?"

"You seemed to come out of it for a second or so," the other told him.

"You opened your eyes, glared your worst at the j.a.p rat officer, and actually tried to push yourself up off the deck. Of course you barely moved, bound up as you were. But you certainly looked and acted quite the tough guy, old thing."

"Yeah?" Dawson echoed, and grinned faintly. "Well, that's me all over, pal. Tough as they come--when I'm out cold! So I sort of saved my own life, eh?"

"Just about," Freddy Farmer nodded. "The j.a.p rat decided that he wasn't through with you, so he had the seaman pick you up again. I guess you had pa.s.sed out again by then. And you stayed that way--lucky beggar. I also hope and pray I'll never have an airplane ride like that one!

Heaven preserve me, please! I'm still not quite sure that I've got hands, and feet, and a neck. The blighters rammed us down in the rear pit of that seaplane so tight I was afraid I wasn't going to be able to breathe. You certainly missed something, Dave! You certainly did, old chap!"

"Yeah, and am I glad!" Dawson grunted, and glanced about him.

It was then he saw that Freddy and he were in an absolutely bare cabin aboard some kind of a s.h.i.+p. It was not until then that he realized that the rhythmic beat was the s.h.i.+p's powerful turbines driving it through the water. He glanced out the round-shaped "window" and saw cloud-dotted azure blue sky drifting by. Then he looked quickly back at Freddy, and the English youth nodded gravely.

"That's right, Dave," he said quietly. "Welcome to the flags.h.i.+p of Admiral Suicide Sasebo's force. And, good grief, Dave! It's a tremendous force! Three carriers of the Kaga cla.s.s, a dozen troop s.h.i.+ps, and scads and scads of cruisers, destroyers, and supply vessels. Even from the air they appear to take up the whole blasted ocean. Very definitely, a big force. But, as I was saying, it was an absolutely terrible ride. I think I fainted once or twice, myself. Just couldn't seem to hang on somehow.

Then after years and years we sat down in the middle of this force and came alongside this carrier flags.h.i.+p. They let down a hoist cable and took us right up on board. I really was pretty hazy by then, and I don't remember just what followed, exactly. But it wasn't much. Yet, no, it was a whole lot, I guess you'd say. They took those cursed ropes off us both, anyway. Then they carried you, and half dragged me, down to this cabin, and kicked us inside. Ever since I've been trying to decide whether to pray you wouldn't recover and thus get out of it all, or to pray for you to recover, and carry on with me."

Dawson smiled and reached over a hand and pressed Freddy Farmer's knee.

It was then he saw the ugly-looking red welts that circled his wrists.

And also the circle of red welts about Freddy's wrists.

"Well, here I am anyway, kid," he said softly. "No rotten j.a.p rats can break up this old combination, hey, fellow? But how long have we been here?"

"About two hours, I fancy," Freddy said. "We got here about the middle of the afternoon, so now it must be around five o'clock. I don't know the time, exactly. They took my wrist watch, and yours, too. Souvenirs, no doubt. I hope the things refuse to run for them, the dirty thieving beggars. Gos.h.!.+ How my hatred for them just grows and grows! I could--"

"Well, don't let it throw you, and blow your top, kid!" Dave cut in with a soothing note. "Going haywire won't help a thing. And at least we've got one thing to cling to."

"What?" the English youth grunted. "Each other?"

"Yes, that, too," Dave replied with a nod. "But that isn't what was in my mind. I mean, we're both still alive. If they didn't _want_ us alive, we certainly wouldn't be here in this place. So it means that they figure we've got something they want. See?"

"Perhaps," Freddy said slowly. "Perhaps not, too. Our little talk session with the n.a.z.i U-boat commander didn't cut any ice with that j.a.p rat officer. I wouldn't be at all surprised but that we're here just so's he and his dirty pals can take their time and fully enjoy torturing us and killing us. Gos.h.!.+ A horrible thought, what?"

Dawson shook his head, and waved one hand back and forth.

"I don't think I'll buy any of that," he said. "This Sasebo is on a darned important mission. Much as he likes to see guys die, I don't think he'll bother much with a couple of guys named Joe. Nope, Freddy, we're here because they think they can gain something from us."

"And when they don't?" Freddy Farmer murmured, and looked him straight in the eye.

"Yeah!" Dawson breathed. "Maybe then the fun _will_ begin. So it's up to us to beat them to the punch. To keep them on the ropes, and undecided what to do next. Maybe even get them high tailing north for a big killing that isn't going to come off."

"What a blasted faint hope, that last!" Freddy snorted. "I'm not even giving it a thought. If there is anything that we _can_ do, or try to do, it's to somehow get one of their planes and go straight to Admiral Jackson's force."

"Sure, that would be nice, too," Dawson grunted. "But it happens to be all reversed now, Freddy."

"What is?" the other demanded. "What do you mean by that, Dave?"

"The whole darn situation," Dawson told him. "Yesterday we didn't know where this force was, but we did know where Admiral Jackson's force was.