Tom Swift and His Submarine Boat by Howard R. Garis (best e reader for manga TXT) 📕
While father and son were deep in a discussion of the apparatus of the submarine, there will be an opportunity to make the reader a little better acquainted with them. Those of you who have read the previous volumes of this series do not need to be told who Tom Swift is. Others, however, may be glad to have a proper introduction to him.
Tom Swift lived with his father, Barton Swift, in the village of Shopton, New York. The Swift home was on the outskirts of the town, and the large house was surrounded by a number of machine shops, in which father and son, aided by Garret Jackson, the engineer, did their experimental and constructive work. Their house was not far from Lake Carlopa, a fairly large body of water, on which Tom often speeded his motor-boat.
In the first volume of this series, entitled "Tom Swift and His Motor-Cycle," it was told how he became acquainted with Mr. Wakefield Damon, who suffered an accident while riding one of the speedy machines. The accident disgus
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“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.
“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 motorcycle, 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, bet 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. What 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.”
“Oh, that’s so. I’d forgotten about it. He’s going to try for the Government prize, isn’t he? But tell me more about it. Bless my scarf-pin, but I’m glad I met you! Going into town, I take it. Well, I just came from there, but I’ll walk back with you. Do you think—is there any possibility—that I could go with you? Of course, I don’t want to crowd you, but—”
“Oh, there’ll be plenty of room,” replied the young inventor. “In fact, more room than we had in the airship. We were talking only the other day about the possibility of you going with us, but we didn’t think you’d risk it.”
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