THE KEEL IS LAID
“You have convinced yourself that this amount will finance the great
scheme, have you, Tom?” asked Ned Newton, leaning back in his chair
in the private office of the Swift Construction Company at Shopton.
“We can’t be too particular about the financial end of it.”
“All right, Old Cerberus,” laughed Tom Swift, who called his friend
everything from the “Watchdog of the Treasury” to “Tightwad, the
Penny Squeezer.” “I’ve told you how far I have gone. I have O.K.’d
several contracts for parts of the _Winged Arrow_——”
“Is that going to be the name of the boat?”
“I think so. We have to call her something. I am going to lay
her keel—the keel of her boat-cabin—within the fortnight, if
circumstances permit. If I don’t fall down on it, Ned, she is going
to be a worthy craft!”
“Naturally,” Ned rejoined loyally. “You would not waste your time on
anything mediocre, I am sure.”
“Many, many thanks,” returned Tom, getting up to bow to his treasurer.
“But tell me more about it. Let’s have the particulars,” said Ned,
with interest.
“I will give you a few figures to consider,” Tom said promptly,
picking up a paper from his desk and reading from it. “The boat
will be sixty feet long. That is about the length of the keel. She
will have cabin space for ten or twelve people. I plan to have the
wings spread at least one hundred and ten feet. She will be driven
by two Liberty motors, each of four hundred horsepower. If I can’t
get a hundred miles an hour speed out of her I shall be gravely
disappointed.”
“Whew! Some boat!” muttered Ned. “But if it is practical, we may make
some money out of it.”
“Miser!” chuckled Tom.
“That’s all right. Just spending money for the fun of it will get
you nowhere,” said Ned soberly. “It is going to cost a pretty penny.
But if you can sell it to the Government, for instance; or some
government——”
“Whatever I build, is at the service of our country,” Tom said
promptly. “But I am not going to peddle my inventions to other
nations. I don’t need to.”
“‘Pride goeth before a fall,’” quoted Ned Newton. “The time may come
when the Swift Construction Company will need cash. Then these
experiments of yours will breed some ducats.”
“This flying boat is my pet project, Ned,” Tom said soberly. “I
believe a deal of experimenting is going on all over the world in the
constructing of seaplanes. It is the most practical end of the flying
game.”
“So it appears.”
“Then, we want to keep in the lead. The Swift Construction Company
ought to put out a boat that will lead them all, even if we never
make a penny out of it.”
“Don’t talk that way!” urged Ned. “Our books have got to show a
balance on the right side at the end of the year. Go ahead. Do all
the experimenting you want. But in the end, Tom Swift, I shall expect
you to evolve something that will pay the company _big_.”
In secret Tom believed that was exactly what he should do. But he
did not like to be too sanguine. After all, a good many of the ideas
he had evolved regarding the new invention were so embryonic that he
hesitated to go into particulars about them with Ned, or even with
his father.
Barton Hopkins had been a dreamer, like his son, in his younger days.
But age usually makes a man critical. Tom did not want anybody to
tell him a thing could not be done until he had tried it out himself
and was satisfied that it was impossible.
During these days after the departure of Mr. Damon and Mary’s father
for Denmark Tom lived in a good deal of a mental haze. He allowed
nothing, at least, to interfere any more with his consideration of
the new invention. Rad Sampson declared that the younger Swift was so
absorbed by his work that he did not know what he ate half the time.
“Dat boy sartain sure work hisself sick,” grumbled the old colored
man. “Dem things he is playin’ wid take all his mind off’n ’portant
things. Suah do!”
To Rad the pleasures of the table were far more important than the
building of a flying boat that was to astonish the world.
“Some shingles an’ pigs’ bladders and pieces of string—huh!” grumbled
Rad. “Let dis yere Koku play wid ’em. They jest de sort ob things
childern and heathens plays wid. I’s ’shamed of Mars’ Tom.”
The model Tom had built upon his bedroom table, however, was all that
Rad saw of the flying boat. It was merely a rough suggestion of what
the young inventor hoped the _Winged Arrow_ would be when it was
done. In one of the locked rooms attached to his office suite at the
works he was working out in full detail the mysterious seaplane.
The workmen, even the most trusted ones, had little idea as yet as to
what Tom Swift was about. But when a part of the erecting shop was
cleared for the keel of the big boat they all grew excited. The Swift
Construction Company was about to evolve another wonder!
When Tom himself appeared in the erecting shop in working clothes the
men might well be sure that something of importance was under way.
There was another sign that never failed. Koku, the giant, was close
at hand.
The strange fellow had believed for a long time now that his beloved
young “Master” was threatened by malign enemies, both of a physical
and spiritual kind. No talking to Koku or explanation of religious
matters could convince the giant that there were not actual “devils,”
as well as evil influences, at work in the world.
Tom had been in so many perils from certain evil people who were
opposed to the Government during the war, and who were the young
inventor’s personal enemies as well, that the poor savage expected
harm to come to his master at any and all times.
When Tom was working around machinery or engaged in any matter where
there were other men about—especially rough looking men—Koku did not
intend to be far away from Tom Swift. He watched the young fellow and
all those who approached him with a gaze as sharp as that of a lynx.
Sometimes Tom turned around quickly to find the giant almost at his
elbow, his savage gaze enough to startle any one. Koku’s eyes had the
quality of a cat’s. They narrowed to a wicked slit in the daytime,
and were yellow. At night they expanded and were glowing, and it had
often been proved that he could see farther and more distinctly in
the dark than any American of European descent.
As Tom moved about briskly, appointing each man his task, advising
here and ordering there, Koku was sometimes quite put to it to keep
within arm’s reach of his master. But, at least, he never lost sight
of him, and the giant could move so quickly and lightly that he was
seldom in anybody’s way.
Having selected most of his mechanics with much care and after giving
heedful attention to their characters as well as to their ability as
workmen, Tom had no suspicion at this time that a single man in the
works felt any enmity toward him. He laughed with his father and with
Ned Newton, therefore, over Koku’s careful watch upon him and those
about him.
And yet, there arose a situation, totally unexpected, almost
inexplicable, which might have been considered with justice a direct
attempt to injure the young inventor. And in the thrilling action of
the moment in question it seemed that Tom Swift would neither carry
through his attempt to build a wonderful flying boat nor accomplish
any other future marvel.
Certain steel trusses were being arranged along the measured length
of the floor of the shop devoted to the laying of the keel. The keel
had reached Shopton in sections, and nobody outside the works could
have guessed what the shining metal parts were as the trucks brought
them from the railroad to the shops.
The traveling crane picked up these numbered parts of the keel and in
succession delivered them to the gang handling the emplacement on the
trusses. The prow was railroaded to the far end of the building and
eased into place. The second section was brought forward.
The gang was busy with this while the crane, traveling upon an
overhead rail, was supposed to drift down the length of the shop
again, drawn by the power of the stationary engine. The crane and its
swinging hooks and loops of chain traveled almost silently.
No workman around the keel noted that the crane stopped half way
to the door of the shop. It seemed to have fouled, for it stopped
abruptly and the overhead rail shivered through its entire length.
Tom had mounted to one of the trusses and with voice and gesture was
advising his helpers how he wished the last piece of the keel placed.
The clanging of other machinery, the echo of hammers, the roar of
escaping steam, well nigh deafened them all.
Of a sudden Koku, the giant, emitted a shriek that might have been
envied by a steam locomotive! He leaped directly at Tom. He hurdled
two of the trusses as though they were no higher than croquet hoops,
and with broad-spread arms and clutching hands, lunged at the young
inventor.
“Look out there, Mr. Tom!” cried one of the men, making his voice
heard even above Koku’s roar. “That giant’s gone crazy!”
Before the young fellow could turn to see what was threatening him,
Koku was upon him and had seized him in his mighty arms.