merely rattled out blow after blow, and then, as another thought came
to him, he adopted a certain plan. Some time previous, when he and Mr.
Sharp had planned their trip in the air, the two had adopted a code of
signals. As it was difficult in a high wind to shout from one end of
the airship to the other, the young inventor would sometimes pound on
the pipe which ran from the pilot house of the Red Cloud to the
engine-room. By a combination of numbers, simple messages could be
conveyed. The code included a call for help. Forty-seven was the
number, but there had never been any occasion to use it.
Tom remembered this now. At once he ceased his indiscriminate
hammering, and began to beat out regularly--one, two, three, four--then
a pause, and seven blows would be given. Over and over again he rang
out this number--forty seven--the call for help.
"If Mr. Sharp only comes back he will hear that, even in the house,"
thought poor Tom "Maybe Garret or Mrs. Baggert will hear it, too, but
they won't know what it means. They'll think I'm just working on the
submarine."
It seemed several hours to Tom that he pounded out that cry for aid,
but, as he afterward learned, it was only a little over an hour. Signal
after signal he sent vibrating from the steel sides of the tank. When
one arm tired he would use the other. He grew weary, his head was
aching, and there was a ringing in his ears; a ringing that seemed as
if ten thousand bells were jangling out their peals, and he could
barely distinguish his own pounding.
Signal after signal he sounded. It was becoming like a dream to him,
when suddenly, as he paused for a rest, he heard his name called
faintly, as if far away.
"Tom! Tom! Where are you?"
It was the voice of Mr. Sharp. Then followed the tones of the aged
inventor.
"My poor boy! Tom, are you still alive?"
"Yes, dad! In the starboard tank!" the lad gasped out, and then he lost
his senses. When he revived he was lying on a pile of bagging in the
submarine shop, and his father and the aeronaut were bending over him.
"Are you all right, Tom?" asked Mr. Swift.
"Yes--I--I guess so," was the hesitating answer. "Yes," the lad added,
as the fresh air cleared his head. "I'll be all right pretty soon. Have
you seen Andy Foger?"
"Did he shut you in there?" demanded Mr. Swift.
Tom nodded.
"I'll have him arrested!" declared Mr. Swift. "I'll go to town as soon
as you're in good shape again and notify the police."
"No, don't," pleaded Tom. "I'll take care of Andy myself. I don't
really believe he knew how serious it was. I'll settle with him later,
though."
"Well, it came mighty near being serious," remarked Mr. Sharp grimly.
"Your father and I came back a little sooner than we expected, and as
soon as I got near the house I heard your signal. I knew what it was in
a moment. There were Mrs. Baggert and Garret talking away, and when I
asked them why they didn't answer your call they said they thought you
were merely tinkering with the machinery. But I knew better. It's the
first time we ever had a use for 'forty-seven,' Tom."
"And I hope it will be the last," replied the young inventor with a
faint smile. "But I'd like to know what Andy Foger is doing in this
neighborhood."
Tom was soon himself again and able to go to the house, where he found
Mrs. Baggert brewing a big basin of catnip tea, under the impression
that it would in some way be good for him. She could not forgive
herself for not having answered his signal, and as for Mr. Jackson, he
had started for a doctor as soon as he learned that Tom was shut up in
the tank. The services of the medical man were canceled by telephone,
as there was no need for him, and the engineer came back to the house.
Tom was fully himself the next day, and aided his father and Mr. Sharp
in putting the finishing touches to the Advance. It was found that some
alteration was required in the auxiliary propellers, and this, much to
the regret of the young inventor, would necessitate postponing the
trial a few days.
"But we'll have her in the water next Friday," promised Mr. Swift.
"Aren't you superstitious about Friday?" asked the balloonist.
"Not a bit of it," replied the aged inventor. "Tom," he added, "I wish
you would go in the house and get me the roll of blueprints you'll find
on my desk."
As the lad neared the cottage he saw, standing in front of the place, a
small automobile. A man had just descended from it, and it needed but a
glance to show that he was Mr. Addison Berg.
"Ah, good morning, Mr. Swift," greeted Mr. Berg. "I wish to see your
father, but as I don't wish to lay myself open to suspicions by
entering the shop, perhaps you will ask him to step here."
"Certainly," answered the lad, wondering why the agent had returned.
Getting the blueprints, and asking Mr. Berg to sit down on the porch,
Tom delivered the message.
"You come back with me, Tom," said his father. "I want you to be a
witness to what he says. I'm not going to get into trouble with these
people."
Mr. Berg came to the point at once.
"Mr. Swift," he said, "I wish you would reconsider your determination
not to enter the Government trials. I'd like to see you compete. So
would my firm."
"There is no use going over that again," replied the aged inventor. "I
have another object in view now than trying for the Government prize.
What it is I can't say, but it may develop in time--if we are
successful," and he looked at his son, smiling the while.
Mr. Berg tried to argue, but it was of no avail. Then he changed his
manner, and said:
"Well, since you won't, you won't, I suppose. I'll go back and report
to my firm. Have you anything special to do this morning?" he went on
to Tom.
"Well, I can always find something to keep me busy," replied the lad,
"but as for anything special--"
"I thought perhaps you'd like to go for a trip in my auto," interrupted
Mr. Berg. "I had asked a young man who is stopping at the same hotel
where I am to accompany me, but he has unexpectedly left, and I don't
like to go alone. His name was--let me see. I have a wretched memory
for names, but it was something like Roger or Moger."
"Foger!" cried Tom. "Was it Andy Foger?"
"Yes, that was it. Why, do you know him?" asked Mr. Berg in some
surprise.
"I should say so," replied Tom. "He was the cause of what might have
resulted in something serious for me," and the lad explained about
being imprisoned in the tank.
"You don't tell me!" cried Mr. Berg. "I had no idea he was that kind of
a lad. You see, his father is one of the directors of the firm by whom
I am employed. Andy came from home to spend a few weeks at the seaside,
and stopped at the same hotel that I did. He went off yesterday
afternoon, and I haven't seen him since, though he promised to go for a
ride with me. He must have come over here and entered your shop
unobserved. I remember now he asked me where the submarine was being
built that was going to compete with our firm's, and I told him. I
didn't think he was that kind of a lad. Well, since he's probably gone
back home, perhaps you will come for a ride with me, Tom."
"I'm afraid I can't go, thank you," answered the lad. "We are very busy
getting our submarine in shape for a trial. But I can imagine why Andy
left so hurriedly. He probably learned that a doctor had been summoned
for me, though, as it happened, I didn't need one. But Andy probably
got frightened at what he had done, and left. I'll make him more sorry,
when I meet him."
"Don't blame you a bit," commented Mr. Berg. "Well, I must be getting
back."
He hastened out to his auto, while Tom and his father watched the agent.
"Tom, never trust that man," advised the aged inventor solemnly.
"Just what I was about to remark," said his son. "Well, let's get back
to work. Queer that he should come here again, and it's queer about
Andy Foger."
Father and son returned to the machine shop, while Mr. Berg puffed away
in his auto. A little later, Tom having occasion to go to a building
near the boundary line of the cottage property which his father had
hired for the season, saw, through the hedge that bordered it, an
automobile standing in the road. A second glance showed him that it was
Mr. Berg's machine. Something had gone wrong with it, and the agent had
alighted to make an adjustment.
The young inventor was close to the man, though the latter was unaware
of his presence.
"Hang it all!" Tom heard Mr. Berg exclaim to himself. "I wonder what
they can be up to? They won't enter the Government contests, and they
won't say why. I believe they're up to some game, and I've got to find
out what it is. I wonder if I couldn't use this Foger chap?"
"He seems to have it in for this Tom Swift," Mr. Berg went on, still
talking to himself, though not so low but that Tom could hear him. "I
think I'll try it. I'll get Andy Foger to sneak around and find out
what the game is. He'll do it, I know."
By this time the auto was in working order again, and the agent took
his seat and started off.
"So that's how matters lie, eh?" thought Tom. "Well, Mr. Berg, we'll be
doubly on the lookout for you after this. As for Andy Foger, I think
I'll make him wish he'd never locked me in that tank. So you expect to
find out our 'game,' eh, Mr. Berg? Well, when you do know it, I think
it will astonish you. I only hope you don't learn what it is until we
get at that sunken treasure, though."
But alas for Tom's hopes. Mr. Berg did learn of the object of the
treasure-seekers, and sought to defeat them, as we shall learn as our
story proceeds.
Chapter Six
Turning the Tables
When the young inventor informed his father what he had overheard Mr.
Berg saying, the aged inventor was not as much worried as his son
anticipated.
"All we'll have to do, Tom," he said, "is to keep quiet about where we
are going. Once we have the Advance afloat, and try her out, we can
start on our voyage for the South American Coast and search for the
sunken treasure. When we begin our voyage under water I defy any one to
tell where we are going, or what our plans are. No, I don't believe we
need worry about Mr. Berg, though he probably means mischief."
"Well, I'm going to keep my eyes open for him and Andy Foger," declared
Tom.
The days that followed were filled with work. Not only were there many
unexpected things to do about the submarine, but Mr. Sharp was kept
busy making inquiries about the sunken treasure ship. These inquiries
had to be made carefully, as the adventurers did not want their plans
talked of, and nothing circulates more quickly than rumors of an
expedition after treasure of any kind.
"What about the old sea captain you were going to get to go with us?"
asked Mr. Swift of the balloonist one afternoon. "Have you succeeded
in finding one yet?"
"Yes; I am in communication with a man I think will be just the person
for us. His name is Captain Alden Weston, and he has sailed all over
the world. He has also taken part in more than one revolution, and, in
fact, is a soldier of fortune. I do not know him personally, but a
friend of mine knows him, and says he will serve us faithfully. I have
written to him, and he will be here in a few days."
"That's good. Now about the location of the wreck itself. Have you
been able to learn any more details?"
"Well, not many. You see, the Boldero was abandoned in a storm, and the
captain did not take very careful observations. As nearly as it can be
figured out the treasure ship went to the bottom in latitude forty-five
degrees south, and longitude twenty-seven east from Washington. That's
a pretty indefinite location, but I hope, once we get off the Uruguay
coast, we can better it. We can anchor or lay outside the harbor, and
in the small boat we carry go ashore and possibly gain more details.
For it was at Montevideo that the shipwrecked passengers and sailors
landed."
"Does Captain Weston know our object?" inquired Tom.
"No, and I don't propose to tell him until we are ready to start,"
replied Mr. Sharp. "I don't know just how he'll consider a submarine
trip after treasure, but if I spring it on him suddenly he's less
likely to back out. Oh, I think he'll go."
Somewhat unexpectedly the next day it was discovered that certain tools
and appliances were needed for the submarine, and they had been left in
the house at Shopton, where Eradicate Sampson was in charge as
caretaker during the absence of Mr. Swift and his son and the
housekeeper.
"Well, I suppose we'll have to go back after them," remarked Tom.
"We'll take the airship, dad, and make a two-days' trip of it. Is there
anything else you want?"
"Well, you might bring a bundle of papers you'll find in the lower
right hand drawer of my desk. They contain some memoranda I need."
Tom and Mr. Sharp had become so used to traveling in the airship that
it seemed no novelty to them, though they attracted much attention
wherever they went. They soon had the Red Cloud in readiness for a
flight, and rising in the air above the shop that contained the
powerful submarine, a craft utterly different in type from the
aeroplane, the nose of the airship was pointed toward Shopton.
They made a good flight and landed near the big shed where the bird of
the air was kept. It was early evening when they got to the Swift
homestead, and Eradicate Sampson was glad to see them.
Eradicate was a good cook, and soon had a meal ready for the travelers.
Then, while Mr. Sharp selected the tools and other things needed, and
put them in the airship ready for the start back the next morning, Tom
concluded he would take a stroll into Shopton, to see if he could see
his friend, Ned Newton. It was early evening, and the close of a
beautiful day, a sharp shower in the morning having cooled the air.
Tom was greeted by a number of acquaintances as he strolled along, for,
since the episode of the bank robbery, when he had so unexpectedly
returned with the thieves and the cash, the lad was better known than
ever.
"I guess Ned must be home," thought our hero as he looked in vain for
his chum among the throng on the streets. "I've got time to take a
stroll down to his house."
Tom was about to cross the street when he was startled by the sound of
an automobile horn loudly blown just at his side. Then a voice called:
"Hey, there! Git out of the way if you don't want to be run over!"
He looked up, and saw a car careening along. At the wheel was the
red-haired bully, Andy Foger, and in the tonneau were Sam Snedecker and
Pete Bailey.
"Git out of the way," added Sam, and he grinned maliciously at Tom.
The latter stepped back, well out of the path of the car, which was not
moving very fast. Just in front of Tom was a puddle of muddy water.
There was no necessity for Andy steering into it, but he saw his
opportunity, and a moment later one of the big pneumatic tires had
plunged into the dirty fluid, spattering it all over Tom, some even
going as high as his face.
"Ha! ha!" laughed Andy. "Maybe you'll get out of my way next time, Tom
Swift."
The young inventor was almost speechless from righteous anger. He wiped
the mud from his face, glanced down at his clothes, which were all but
ruined, and called out:
"Hold on there, Andy Foger! I want to see you!" for he thought of the
time when Andy had shut him in the tank.
"Ta! ta!" shouted Pete Bailey.
"See you later," added Sam.
"Better go home and take a bath, and then sail away in your submarine,"
went on Andy. "I'll bet it will sink."
Before Tom could reply the auto had turned a corner. Disgusted and
angry, he tried to sop up some of the muddy water with his
handkerchief. While thus engaged he heard his name called, and looked
up to see Ned Newton.
"What's the matter? Fall down?" asked his chum.
"Andy Foger," replied Tom.
"That's enough," retorted Ned. "I can guess the rest. We'll have to
tar and feather him some day, and ride him out of town on a rail. I'd
kick him myself, only his father is a director in the bank where I
work, and I'd be fired if I did. Can't afford any such pleasure. But
some day I'll give Andy a good trouncing, and then resign before they
can discharge me. But I'll be looking for another job before I do that.
Come on to my house, Tom, and I'll help you clean up."
Tom was a little more presentable when he left his chum's residence,
after spending the evening there, but he was still burning for revenge
against Andy and his cronies. He had half a notion to go to Andy's
house and tell Mr. Foger how nearly serious the bully's prank at the
submarine had been, but he concluded that Mr. Foger could only uphold
his son. "No, I'll settle with him myself," decided Tom.
Bidding Eradicate keep a watchful eye about the house, and leaving word
for Mr. Damon to be sure to come to the coast if he again called at the
Shopton house, Tom and Mr. Sharp prepared to make their return trip
early the next morning.
The gas tank was filled and the Red Cloud arose in the air. Then, with
the propellers moving at moderate speed, the nose of the craft was
pointed toward the New Jersey coast.
A few miles out from Shopton, finding there was a contrary wind in the
upper regions where they were traveling, Mr. Sharp descended several
hundred feet. They were moving over a sparsely settled part of the
country, and looking down, Tom saw, speeding along a highway, an
automobile.
"I wonder who's in it?" he remarked, taking down a telescope and
peering over the window ledge of the cabin. The next moment he uttered
a startled exclamation.
"Andy Foger, Sam Snedecker and Pete Bailey!" he cried. "Oh, I wish I
had a bucket of water to empty on them."
"I know a better way to get even with them than that," said Mr. Sharp.
"How?" asked Tom eagerly.
"I'll show you," replied the balloonist. "It's a trick I once played on
a fellow who did me an injury. Here, you steer for a minute until I get
the thing fixed, then I'll take charge."
Mr. Sharp went to the storeroom and came back with a long, stout rope
and a small anchor of four prongs. It was carried to be used in
emergencies, but so far had never been called into requisition.
Fastening the grapple to the cable, the balloonist said:
"Now, Tom, they haven't seen you. You stand in the stern and pay out
the rope. I'll steer the airship, and what I want you to do is to catch
the anchor in the rear of their car. Then I'll show you some fun."
Tom followed instructions. Slowly he lowered the rope with the dangling
grapple. The airship was also sent down, as the cable was not quite
long enough to reach the earth from the height at which they were. The
engine was run at slow speed, so that the noise would not attract the
attention of the three cronies who were speeding along, all unconscious
of the craft in the air over their heads. The Red Cloud was moving in
the same direction as was the automobile.
The anchor was now close to the rear of Andy's car. Suddenly it caught
on the tonneau and Tom called that fact to Mr. Sharp.
"Fasten the rope at the cleat," directed the balloonist.
Tom did so, and a moment later the aeronaut sent the airship up by
turning more gas into the container. At the same time he reversed the
engine and the Red Cloud began pulling the touring car backward, also
lifting the rear wheels clear from the earth.
A startled cry from the occupants of the machine told Tom and his
friend that Andy and his cronies were aware something was wrong. A
moment later Andy, looking up, saw the airship hovering in the air
above him. Then he saw the rope fast to his auto. The airship was not
rising now, or the auto would have been turned over, but it was slowly
pulling it backward, in spite of the fact that the motor of the car was
still going.
"Here! You let go of me!" cried Andy. "I'll have you arrested if you
damage my car."
"Come up here and cut the rope," called Tom leaning over and looking
down. He could enjoy the bully's discomfiture. As for Sam and Pete,
they were much frightened, and cowered down on the floor of the tonneau.
"Maybe you'll shut me in the tank again and splash mud on me!" shouted
Tom.
The rear wheels of the auto were lifted still higher from the ground,
as Mr. Sharp turned on a little more gas. Andy was not proof against
this.
"Oh! oh!" he cried. "Please let me down, Tom. I'm awful sorry for what
I did! I'll never do it again! Please, please let me down! Don't! You'll
tip me over!"
He had shut off his motor now, and was frantically clinging to the
steering wheel.
"Do you admit that you're a sneak and a coward?" asked Tom, "rubbing it
in."
"Yes, yes! Oh, please let me down!"
"Shall we?" asked Tom of Mr. Sharp.
"Yes," replied the balloonist. "We can afford to lose the rope and
anchor for the sake of turning the tables. Cut the cable."
Tom saw what was intended. Using a little hatchet, he severed the rope
with a single blow. With a crash that could be heard up in the air
where the Red Cloud hovered, the rear wheels of the auto dropped to the
ground. Then came two loud reports.
"Both tires busted!" commented Mr. Sharp dryly, and Tom, looking down,
saw the trio of lads ruefully contemplating the collapsed rubber of the
rear wheels. The tables had been effectually turned on Andy Foger. His
auto was disabled, and the airship, with a graceful sweep, mounted
higher and higher, continuing on its way to the coast.
Chapter Seven
Mr. Damon Will Go
"Well, I guess they've had their lesson," remarked Tom, as he took an
observation through the telescope and saw Andy and his cronies hard at
work trying to repair the ruptured tires. "That certainly was a corking
good trick."
"Yes," admitted Mr. Sharp modestly. "I once did something similar, only
it was a horse and wagon instead of an auto. But let's try for another
speed record. The conditions are just right."
They arrived at the coast much sooner than they had dared to hope, the
Red Cloud proving herself a veritable wonder.
The remainder of that day, and part of the next, was spent in working
on the submarine.
"We'll launch her day after to-morrow," declared Mr. Swift
enthusiastically. "Then to see whether my calculations are right or
wrong."
"It won't be your fault if it doesn't work," said his son. "You
certainly have done your best."
"And so have you and Mr. Sharp and the others, for that matter. Well, I
have no doubt but that everything will be all right, Tom."
"There!" exclaimed Mr. Sharp the next morning, as he was adjusting a
certain gage. "I knew I'd forget something. That special brand of
lubricating oil. I meant to bring it from Shopton, and I didn't."
"Maybe I can get it in Atlantis," suggested Tom, naming the coast city
nearest to them. "I'll take a walk over. It isn't far."
"Will you? I'll be glad to have you," resumed the balloonist. "A gallon
will be all we'll need."
Tom was soon on his way. He had to walk, as the roads were too poor to
permit him to use the motor-cycle, and the airship attracted too much
attention to use on a short trip. He was strolling along, when from
the other side of a row of sand dunes, that lined the uncertain road to
Atlantis, he heard some one speaking. At first the tones were not
distinct, but as the lad drew nearer to the voice he heard an
exclamation.
"Bless my gold-headed cane! I believe I'm lost. He said it was out this
way somewhere, but I don't see anything of it. If I had that Eradicate
Sampson here now I'd--bless my shoelaces I don't know what I would do
to him."
"Mr. Damon! Mr. Damon!" cried Tom. "Is that you?"
"Me? Of course it's me! Who else would it be?" answered the voice. "But
who are you. Why, bless my liver! If it isn't Tom Swift!" he cried.
"Oh, but I'm glad to see you! I was afraid I was shipwrecked! Bless my
gaiters, how are you, anyhow? How is your father? How is Mr. Sharp, and
all the rest of them?"
"Pretty well. And you?"
"Me? Oh, I'm all right; only a trifle nervous. I called at your house
in Shopton yesterday, and Eradicate told me, as well as he could, where
you were located. I had nothing to do, so I thought I'd take a run down
here. But what's this I hear about you? Are you going on a voyage?"
"Yes."
"In the air? May I go along again? I certainly enjoyed my other trip in
the Red Cloud. That is, all but the fire and being shot at. May I go?"
"We're going on a different sort of trip this time," said the youth.
"Where?"
"Under water."
"Under water? Bless my sponge bath! You don't mean it!"
"Yes. Dad has completed the submarine he was working on when we were
off in the airship, and it will be launched the day after to-morrow."