ing spray and turbulence from the blast. Tom dared not land too close for fear of injuring the men still struggling in the water.
The other boats picked them up, then rowed toward the seacopter. Her hatch was flung open and the Rockwell’s seamen scrambled aboard.
“Did everyone get off in time?” Tom inquired.
“Right, sir. We mustered all hands before the boats were lowered, and Captain Grimsby saw the last man off,” a bosun told him. “But some of the men will need medical attention.”
Several men had been injured by flying debris or in the confusion when the lifeboats capsized. Captain Grimsby, the last to climb aboard the S^a Hound, had suffered a bad cut over one eye.
“Sorry it turned out this way, sir,” Tom said.
Grimsby gave a wry smile. “We didn’t expect any picnic when we volunteered for this job.”
Hank Sterling took charge of giving first aid to the injured. Soon the Sky Queen arrived on the scene with Doc Simpson aboard and a Swift pilot, Slim Davis, at the controls. As the huge three-decker craft hovered close to the water, a sling was lowered, then a ladder, and the Rockwell’s crew were taken off the Sea Hound.
“Navy subs are on the way, skipper,” Slim reported to Tom.
“We may not be around when they get here, but I’ll radio our course, which will be to follow the pirates I believe are hauling the freighter away,”
DANGER TRAIL 167
Tom replied. He was chafing with impatience, knowing the enemy submarine no doubt was already a good distance away with its “prize.”
As soon as the Sky Queen took off, the Sea Hound submerged, and Tom switched on the aquatomic tracker. To his dismay, not a single light flashed on the readout panel!