IN DIRE PERIL
Upward shot the Falcon. With every revolution of her big propellers
she came nearer and nearer to the fleeing craft of the supposed
smugglers who were using every endeavor to escape.
"Do you think you can catch them, Tom?" asked Mr. Whitford as he stood
at the side of our hero in the pilot house, and looked upward and
forward to where, bathed in the light of the great search-lantern, the
rival craft was beating the air.
"I'm sure we can--unless something happens."
"Bless my overshoes! What can happen?" asked Mr. Damon, who, after
finding that everything in the motor room was running smoothly, had
come forward. Ned was attending to the searchlight. "What can
happen, Tom?"
"Almost anything, from a broken shaft to a short-circuited motor.
Only, I hope nothing does occur to prevent us from catching them."
"You don't mean to say that you're actually going to try to catch
them, do you, Tom?" asked the custom officer, "I thought if we could
trail them to the place where they have been delivering the goods,
before they shipped them to Shopton we'd be doing well. But I never
thought of catching them in mid-air."
"I'm going to try it," declared the young inventor. "I've got a
grappling anchor on board," he went on, "attached to a meter and
windlass. If I can catch that anchor in any part of their ship I can
bring them to a stop, just as a fisherman lands a trout. Only I've
got to get close enough to make a cast, and I want to be above them
when I do it."
"Don't you think you can catch them, Tom?" asked Mr. Damon.
"Well, I'm pretty sure I can, and yet they seem to have a faster
biplane than I gave them credit for. I guess I'll have to increase
our speed a little," and he shifted a lever which made the Falcon
shoot along at nearly doubled speed.
Still the other airship kept ahead, not far, but sufficiently so to
prevent the grappling anchor from being tossed at her rail.
"I wonder if they are the smugglers?" questioned Mr. Damon. "It
might be possible, Tom, that we're chasing the wrong craft."
"Possible, but not probable," put in Mr. Whitford. "After the clew
we got, and what the Indians told us, and then to have a biplane
come sailing over our heads at night, it's pretty sure to be the one
we want. But, Tom, can't you close up on 'em?"
"I'm going to try. The machinery is warmed up now, and I'll send it
to the limit."
Once more he adjusted the wheels and levers, and at his touch the
Falcon seemed to gain new strength. She fairly soared through the
air.
Eagerly those in the pilot house watched the craft they were
pursuing. She could be seen, in the glare of the big searchlight,
like some bird of gloom and evil omen, fluttering along ahead of
them.
"They certainly have a fine motor!" cried Tom. "I was sure I could
have caught up to them before this."
"How do you account for it?" asked Mr. Damon.
"Well, they're flying a good deal lighter than we are. They probably
have no load to speak of, while we carry a heavy one, to say nothing
of Koku."
"Diamonds aren't very heavy," put in Mr. Whitford grimly. "I think
they are smuggling diamonds to-night. How I wish we could catch
them, or trace them to where they have their headquarters."
"We'll do it!" declared Tom.
"Bless my stars! They've gone!" suddenly exclaimed Mr. Damon.
"They've disappeared, Tom, I can't see them."
It was indeed true. Those in the pilot house peering ahead through
the darkness, could not get a glimpse of the airship they were
pursuing. The beam of the searchlight showed nothing but a black
void.
All at once the beam shifted downward, and then it picked up the
white-winged craft.
"They went down!" cried Tom. "They tried to drop out of sight."
"Can't you get them?" asked Mr. Whitford.
"Oh, yes, we can play that game too. I'll do a little volplaning
myself," and the young inventor shut off the power and coasted
earthward, while Ned, who had picked up the forward craft, kept the
searchlight playing on her.
And now began a wonderful chase. The smugglers' craft, for such she
proved later to be, did her best to dodge the Falcon. Those managing
the mechanism of the fleeing airship must have been experts, to hold
out as they did against Tom Swift, but they had this advantage, that
their craft was much lighter, and more powerfully engined as regards
her weight. Then, too, there were not so many on board, and Tom,
having a combined balloon and aeroplane, had to carry much
machinery.
It was like the flight of two big birds in the air. Now the
smugglers' craft would be mounting upward, with the Falcon after
her. Again she would shoot toward the earth, and Tom would follow,
with a great downward swoop.
Ned kept the great lantern going, and, though occasionally the craft
they were after slipped out of the focus of the beams, the young
bank clerk would pick her up again.
To the right and left dodged the forward airship, vainly endeavoring
to shake off Tom Swift, but he would not give up. He followed move
for move, swoop for swoop.
"She's turning around!" suddenly cried Mr. Damon. "She's given up
the flight, Tom, and is going back!"
"That's so!" agreed Mr. Whitford. "They're headed for Canada, Tom.
We've got to catch 'em before they get over the Dominion line!"
"I'll do it!" cried Tom, between his clenched teeth.
He swung his airship around in a big circle, and took after the
fleeing craft. The wind was against the smugglers now, and they
could not make such good speed, while to Tom the wind mattered not,
so powerful were the propellers of the Falcon.
"I think we're gaining on them," murmured Mr. Damon.
Suddenly, from the engine room, came a cry from Ned.
"Tom! Tom!" he shouted, "Something is wrong with the gas machine!
She registers over five hundred pounds pressure, and that's too
much. It's going up, and I haven't touched it!"
"Mr. Damon, take the wheel!" exclaimed the young inventor. "I've got
to see what's wrong. Hold her right on their trail."
Tom sprang to the motor room, and one glance at the gas generating
machine showed him that they were in dire peril. In some manner the
pressure was going up enormously, and if it went up much more the
big tank would blow to pieces.
"What is it?" cried Ned, from his position near the light.
"I don't know! Something wrong."
"Are you going to give up the chase?"
"I am not. Stick to the light. Koku, tell Mr. Damon to hold her on
the course I set. I'll try to get this pressure down!" And Tom Swift
began to work feverishly, while his ship rushed on through the night
in danger, every moment, of being blown to atoms. Yet the young
inventor would not give up, and descend to earth.