THE “WHITE SHARK.”
“Who hasn’t heard of Daniel Dancer?” cried Tom enthusiastically. “Why,
as dad used to say, your name is almost a household word in the field
of invention.”
The gray-haired man regarded him quizzically.
“Possibly it is,” he rejoined, “but at the present moment I am as much
at sea regarding a mechanical problem as any tyro.”
He nodded his head in the direction of the model-bestrewn table.
“What I meant to make the crowning achievement of my career, my diving
torpedo boat, the _White Shark_, is at present at a dead standstill.”
The two boys regarded him wonderingly.
“You mean that work on it is at a standstill?” inquired Jack presently.
“Precisely so. I have to face certain mechanical problems that have—I
am free to admit it—fairly stumped me.”
“You see,” he continued briefly, “the _White Shark_ is to be a
combination diving and ‘skimming’ boat.”
The boys merely nodded and waited for Mr. Dancer to continue. Plainly,
developments of possibly startling interest were at hand.
“But it is impossible for me to explain to you just what the _White
Shark_ is, and what I hope to accomplish with her, without affording
you a view of the craft,” resumed Mr. Dancer; “if you feel strong
enough I will show her to you.”
“But it seems to me that I read in a Boston paper some time ago that
your work here was of the most secret sort,” said Jack.
“So far as the outside public is concerned such is the case,” was the
reply, “but to my fellow laborers in the same field, as it were, I am
glad to be of service and to provide them with an interesting sight;
for I am vain enough to believe that the _White Shark_ is one of the
most remarkable craft in the world at the present time.”
“I should like to see it above all things,” cried Jack eagerly.
“The same here,” responded Tom, with expectant eyes, “I feel quite
recovered from my shaking up.”
“That is good. Now if you will get up and follow me, I think I can show
you something that will surprise you.”
So saying the inventor crossed the room to another door than the one by
which he had entered. The boys, following him, found themselves in a
big shed from which “ways” sloped down to the water’s edge. An extended
view of the ocean was not possible, for two doors of stout construction
barred the gaze of any curious person who might have tried to obtain a
view of the _White Shark_ from the sea.
But for these details the boys had no eyes. Their gaze was riveted
on what, in outside appearance, at any rate, fully justified its
designer’s appellation: “One of the most remarkable craft in the world.”
The _White Shark_ was secured at the top of the ways, presumably ready
to take a plunge into the element for which she was designed. She was
about seventy feet in length, and shaped like a rather stout barrel
with pointed, conical ends.
At one end was a propeller of bronze, and at the other a long tube,
like a snout, or nose. This puzzled the boys greatly, but for the time
they refrained from asking questions. The material of which the _White
Shark_ was constructed was a mystery also. It glistened like polished
nickel and was as smooth and bright as a mirror.
“The _White Shark_ is built throughout of Monel metal, a material that
will not tarnish or corrode, but always remains bright,” explained Mr.
Dancer.
Jack nodded his head.
“It’s something quite new, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Yes. It’s the invention of a friend of mine in New Jersey. It is
almost as light and far stronger than aluminum.”
There was a ladder leaning against the side of the odd craft and Mr.
Dancer, beckoning to the boys, signed them to follow him. He ascended
the rungs with remarkable agility for a man of his apparent age and
reached the top of the cylindrical craft long before the boys did.
The rounded top of the diving craft was as smooth and bright as
its sides. A low rail ran round the “upper deck,” if such it could
be called, and at first sight it appeared that there was no way of
penetrating to the interior of the _White Shark_.
Mr. Dancer bent, however, and pressed a button, at first hardly
discernible. A panel slid back noiselessly, revealing the first steps
of a flight of steep stairs.
“One moment till I light your way,” said the inventor, “I don’t want
you to fall down stairs and get into trouble twice in one day.”
He gave an odd, dry little laugh as he said this and reaching within,
he pressed another button. There came a sharp click, and below them
the fascinated boys saw the interior of the unique vessel illuminated
by a soft white light of intense radiance.
“I invite you on board the _White Shark_,” said Mr. Dancer with a bow
and a wave of his hand toward the entrance; “you will be the first
outsiders to visit it.”
With hearts that beat a little faster than usual at the idea of the
novel experience before them the two lads stepped within the opening
and began the descent of the stairs.