When Jack was still in grade school he had often visited his uncle’s farm. In summer he had stayed for weeks at a time. There were ghosts that haunted the lonely country roads at night. Old Jock Gordon, the hired hand, and Maggie MacPherson, the cook, often told weird tales about these ghosts as they sat by the kitchen fire at night.

When he was out late playing with some neighbor boy and had to brave the dark roads alone, Jack had gone on tiptoe. But that didn’t always help, for more than once he saw weird white things moving in the hedge or the willows.

“Ghosts!” he would think, scared to death. But he never ran. A ghost at your back is much more terrible than one you can see. Jack always walked straight toward the ghosts, and always they vanished into thin air.
97

As he caught the hoarse whisper there on the lonely mysterious island, he thought of those ghosts, and it steadied his mind. He answered the hoarse whisper, then walked straight toward the spot from whence it came. He had gone a dozen paces when a low voice said:

“Don’t come closer.”

Gripping his gun, he stopped.

Out of the brush and the shadows stepped a figure that even in the dim moonlight appeared familiar.

“What are you doing here?” a woman’s voice asked. “How did you come? And why?”

The woman was tall, and rather slender. She wore a broad hat that hid her face.

It’s that slim queen of the island, was Jack’s thought. He had come to think of her as just that, but was astonished to discover that she spoke English fluently.

“Who are you? And what are you doing here?” he countered, taking two steps.

“It doesn’t matter who I am,” came slowly. “It will pay you to stay where you are. I am not alone.”

Jack remained where he was. He seemed to catch sight of shadowy figures in the brush. Visions of flying spears and arrows haunted him.

“We’re two fliers from the United States Navy,” he said, having decided to tell the truth. “Our plane was wrecked. We came ashore on a rubber raft. Now, who are you?” he repeated.
98

“How are we to know that you are speaking the truth?” the girl asked, ignoring his question. “There’s a Jap raft drawn up on the beach,” she went on.

“Yes. We drew it up.” Jack’s throat went dry.

“Then perhaps you came in it.”

“Do I look like a Jap?” He played his flashlight on his own face.

“Not like a Jap, but you might be a German. All the traders were Germans before the war.”

“All right. Have it your way!” He threw a flash of light into her eyes. By doing this, he discovered an added pair of eyes—small, monkey eyes. The monk was on her shoulder.

“Is that your monkey?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“How did you get that American nurse’s identification tag the monkey wears?” He asked without thinking.

“That!” There was anger in her voice. “That’s none of your affair.”

She went on after a moment, “We want to know about you.”

“And now you know.” He laughed softly.

“Do I?” She returned the laugh.

“Do you know all about those fellows who come here in that queer sort of plane?” he asked.
99

“Do you?” she came back at him.

“No.”

“Well then, that makes two of us. Thanks for listenin’. Good night.” She was gone.

She’s heard that farewell off here on the radio, Jack thought. Did missionaries have radios? He supposed they did. Queer little world he had dropped into. So she didn’t know much about those two men and the mystery plane? Well, one way or another, he was going to learn more. If they turned out to be Australian, British, or Dutch, they might give the boys a lift to some spot held by the United Nations. Then Stew and he would get back in time for the big push against Mindanao, he thought. Worth taking a chance for that, he assured himself. A very long chance.

When Kentucky and two of his night fighting comrades made their way back to the carrier they were greeted with enthusiasm.

“You did it!” The Commander gripped Kentucky’s hand. “You broke up their formation! Not a torpedo found its mark. But where is Ted?” His voice dropped.

“We don’t know, sir,” said Kentucky, wrinkling his brow. “We had to scatter, and go on our own.”

“Of course.”
100

“Red saw him climbing for altitude, sir—thought his motor might have been smoking.”

“Yes, sir. That’s the way it was,” Red put in. “After that the moon went under for quite a while. When it came out his plane was gone. I thought I saw a white gleam like a parachute in the moonlight quite close to the wa............