A flurry of activity followed as Tom detailed ships for the search and
rounded up crews. He was interrupted by a phone call in the loading
shed. It was the control-tower operator.
"One of our drone planes has spotted a sub approaching, skipper," the
operator reported.
"What bearing?" Tom demanded excitedly.
"One-seven-six." Tom was about to hang up and grab a pair of binoculars
when the operator added hastily, "Wait! It's responding to our radio
challenge!... That's ours, all right!"
Tom dashed out of the shed and scanned the sea to the southward. Sure
enough, a jetmarine had surfaced and was speeding toward the sub docks.
Minutes later, Tom was shaking hands warmly with Zimby Cox and Mack
Avery.
"Is Bud okay?" was Zimby's first question.
"Right! I just heard from him," Tom replied. "He and Mel captured those
enemy frogmen and a copter's on the way to pick them up. What happened
to you fellows?"
Zimby confirmed Bud's guess that they had taken off in pursuit of the
enemy craft.
"We figured Bud and Mel could make out on their own," Zimby explained.
"And we thought the sub's course or actions might tip us off to its
nationality. Also, if it tried any sabotage or mine-planting, we could
radio the Navy."
Instead, Cox went on, the mysterious craft had proceeded to a point
about ten miles offshore where it rendezvoused with another submarine.
Pages:
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108