Tom Swift and His Airship
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Victor Appleton >> Tom Swift and His Airship
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"What did you tell him?"
"Well, I was so surprised that I didn't know what to say, and, before
I could get my wits together the man had seen his mistake and hurried
on. He joined the man I had collided with, and the two skipped off in
the darkness. But not before a third man had come across the street,
from in front of the bank, and hurried off with them."
"Well?" asked Tom, as his chum paused.
"I don't know what to think," resumed Ned. "These men were certainly
acting suspiciously, and, now that you tell me the Anson Morse gang is
not locked up-well, it makes me feel that these must be some of their
crowd."
"Of course they are!" declared Tom positively. "That blue ring proves
it!"
"I wouldn't go so far as to say that," declared Ned. "The man
certainly had a blue ring tattooed on his finger-the same finger where
you say Happy Harry had his. But what would the men be doing in this
neighborhood? They certainly have had a lesson not to meddle with any
of your things."
"No, I don't believe they are after any of dad's inventions this time.
But I tell you what I do believe."
"What?"
"Those men are planning to rob the Shopton Bank, Ned! And I advise you
to notify the officers. That Morse gang is one of the worst in the
country," and Tom, much excited, began to pace the room, while Ned,
who had not dreamed of such an outcome to his narrative, looked
startled.
Chapter 3 - Whitewashed
"Let's tell your father, Tom," suggested Ned, after a pause. "He'll
know what to do."
"No, I'd rather not," answered the young inventor quickly. "Dad has
had trouble enough with these fellows, and I don't want him to worry
any more. Besides, he is working on a new invention, and if I tell him
about the Happy Harry gang it will take his attention from it."
"What invention is he planning now?"
"I don't know, but it's something important by the way he keeps at it.
He hardly spares time to help Mr. Sharp and me on the airship. No,
we'll keep this news from dad."
"Then I'll inform the bank officials, as you suggest. If the place was
robbed they might blame me; if they found out I had seen the men a
failed to tell them."
"Well, that gang would only be too glad to have the blame fall on some
one else."
Tom little knew how near the truth he had come in his chance
expression, or how soon he himself was to fall under suspicion in
connection with this same band of bad men.
"I'll telephone to the president on my way home," decided Ned, "and he
can notify the watchman at the bank. But do you really expect to have
your airship in shape to fly soon?"
"Oh, yes. Now that we have found out our mistake about the gas, the
rest will be easy."
"I think I'd like to take a trip in one myself, if it didn't go too
high," ventured Ned.
"I'll remember that, when we have ours completed," promised his chum,
"and I'll take you for a spin."
The boys talked for perhaps an hour longer, mostly about the airship,
for it was the latest mechanical affair in which Tom was interested,
and, naturally, foremost in his thoughts. Then Ned went home first,
however, telephoning from Tom's house to the bank president about
having seen the suspicious men. That official thanked his young
employee, and said he would take all necessary precautions. The
telephone message was not sent until Mr. Swift was out of hearing, as
Tom was determined that his father should have no unnecessary worry
about the unscrupulous men. As it was, the news that the gang was out
of jail had caused the aged inventor some alarm.
It was not without some anxiety that Tom arose the next morning,
fearing he would hear news that the bank had been broken into, but no
such alarming report circulated in Shopton. In fact having made some
inquiries that day of Ned, he learned that no trace had been seen of
the mysterious men. The police had been on the lookout, but they had
seen nothing of them.
"Maybe, after all, they weren't the same ones," suggested Ned, when he
paid Tom another visit the next night.
"Well, of course it's possible that they weren't," admitted the young
inventor. "I'd be very glad to think so. Even if they were, your
encounter with them may have scared them off; and that would be a good
thing."
The next two weeks were busy ones for Tom and Mr. Sharp. Aided
occasionally by Mr. Swift, and with Garret Jackson, the engineer, to
lend a hand whenever needed, the aeronaut and the owner of the speedy
Arrow made considerable progress on their airship.
"What is your father so busy over?" asked Mr. Sharp one day, when the
new aluminum gas holder was about completed.
"I don't know," answered Tom, with a somewhat puzzled air. "He doesn't
seem to want to talk about it, even to me. He says it will
revolutionize travel along a certain line, but whether he is working
on an airship that will rival ours, or a new automobile, I can't make
out. He'll tell us in good time. But when do you think we will finish
the-well, I don't know what to call it-I mean our aeroplane?"
"Oh, in about a month now. That's so, though, we haven't a name for
it. But we'll christen it after it's completed. Now if you'll tighten
up some of those bolts I'll get the gas generating apparatus in
readiness for another test."
A short description of the new airship may not be out of place now. It
was built after plans Mr. Sharp had shown to Tom and his father soon
after the thrilling rescue of the aeronaut from the blazing balloon
over Lake Carlopa. The general idea of the airship was that of the
familiar aeroplane, but in addition to the sustaining surfaces of the
planes, there was an aluminum, cigar-shaped tank, holding a new and
very powerful gas, which would serve to keep the ship afloat even when
not in motion.
Two sets of planes, one above the other, were used, bringing the
airship into the biplane class. There were also two large propellers,
one in front and the other at the rear. These were carefully made, of
different layers of wood "built up" as they are called, to make them
stronger. They were eight feet in diameter, and driven by a twenty-
cylinder, air-cooled, motor, whirled around at the rate of fifteen
hundred revolutions a minute. When operated at full speed the airship
was capable of making eighty miies an hour, against a moderate wind.
But if the use of the peculiarly-shaped planes and the gas container,
with the secret but powerful vapor in it were something new in airship
construction, so was the car in which the operator and travelers were
to live during a voyage. It was a complete living room, with the
engine and other apparatus, including that for generating the gas, in
a separate compartment, and the whole was the combined work of Tom and
Mr. Sharp. There were accommodations for five persons, with sleeping
berths, a small galley or kitchen, where food could be prepared, and
several easy chairs where the travelers could rest in comfort while
skimming along high in the air, as fast as the fastest railroad train.
There was room enough to carry stores for a voyage of a week or more,
and enough gas could be manufactured aboard the ship, in addition to
that taken in the aluminum case before starting, to sustain the ship
for two weeks. The engine, steering apparatus, and the gas machine
were within easy reach and control of the pilot, who was to be
stationed in a small room in the "bow" of the ship. An electric stove
served to warm the interior of the car, and also provided means for
cooking the food.
The airship could be launched either by starting it along the ground,
on rubber-tired wheels, as is done in the case of the ordinary
aeroplane, or it could be lifted by the gas, just as is done with a
balloon. In short there were many novel features about the ship.
The gas test, which took place a few days later, showed that the young
inventor and Mr. Sharp had made no mistake this time. No explosion
followed, the needle valve controlling the powerful vapor perfectly.
"Well," remarked Mr. Sharp, one afternoon, "I think we shall put the
ship together next week, Tom, and have a trial flight. We shall need a
few more aluminum bolts, though, and if you don't mind you might jump
on your motor-cycle and run to Mansburg for them. Merton's machine
shop ought to have some."
Mansburg was the nearest large city to Shopton, and Merton was a
machinist who frequently did work for Mr. Swift.
"All right," agreed Tom. "I'll start now. How many will you need?"
"Oh, a couple of dozen."
Tom started off, wheeling his cycle from the shed where it was kept.
As he passed the building where the big frame of the airship, with the
planes and aluminum bag had been assembled, he looked in.
"We'll soon be flying through the clouds on your back," he remarked,
speaking to the apparatus as if it could understand. "I guess we'll
smash some records, too, if that engine works as well when it's
installed as it does now."
Tom had purchased the bolts, and was on his way back with them, when,
as he passed through one of the outlying streets of Mansburg,
something went wrong with his motor-cycle. He got off to adjust it,
finding that it was only a trifling matter, which he soon put right,
when he was aware of a man standing, observing him. Without looking up
at the man's face, the young inventor was unpleasantly aware of a
sharp scrutiny. He could hardly explain it, but it seemed as if the
man had evil intentions toward him, and it was not altogether
unexpected on Tom's part, when, looking up, he saw staring at him,
Anson Morse, the leader of the gang of men who had caused such trouble
for him.
"Oh, it's you; is it?" asked Morse, an ugly scowl on his face. "I
thought I recognized you." He moved nearer to Tom, who straightened
up, and stood leaning on his wheel.
"Yes; it's me," admitted the lad.
"I've been looking for you," went on Morse. "I'm not done with you
yet, nor your father, either."
"Aren't you?" asked Tom, trying to speak coolly, though his heart was
beating rather faster than usual. Morse had spoken in a threatening
manner, and, as the youth looked up and down the street he saw that it
was deserted; nor were there any houses near.
"No, I'm not," snapped the man. "You got me and my friends in a lot of
trouble, and-"
"You didn't get half what you deserved!" burst out Tom, indignant at
the thought of what he and his father had suffered at the hands of the
gang. "You ought to be in jail now, instead of out; and if I could see
a policeman, I'd have you arrested for threatening me! That's against
the law!"
"Huh! I s'pose you think you know lots about the law," sneered Morse.
"Well, I tell you one thing, if you make any further trouble for me,
I'll- "
"I'll make all the trouble I can!" cried Tom, and he boldly faced the
angry man. "I'm not afraid of you!"
"You'd better be!" and Morse spoke in a vindictive manner. "We'll get
even with you yet, Tom Swift. In fact I've a good notion now to give
you a good thrashing for what you've done."
Before Tom was aware of the man's intention, Morse had stepped quickly
into the street, where the lad stood beside his wheel, and grasped him
by the shoulder. He gave Tom a vicious shake.
"Take your hand off me!" cried Tom, who was hampered by having to hold
up his heavy machine.
"I will when I've given you what I owe you!" retorted the scoundrel.
"I'm going to have satisfaction now if I never-"
At that instant there came from down the street the sound of a
rattling and bumping. Tom looked up quickly, and saw approaching a
rattletrap of a wagon. drawn by a big, loose-jointed mule, the large
ears of which were flapping to and fro. The animal was advancing
rapidly, in response to blows and words from the colored driver, and,
before the uplifted fist of Morse could fall on Tom's head, the outfit
was opposite them.
"Hold on dar, mistah! Hold on!" cried the colored man in the wagon.
"What are yo' doin' to mah friend, Mistah Swift?"
"None of your business!" snapped Morse. "You drive on and let me
manage this affair if you don't want trouble! Who are you anyhow?"
"Why doan't yo' know me?" asked the colored man, at whom Tom looked
gratefully. "I's Eradicate Sampson, an' dish yeah am mah mule,
Boomerang. Whoa, Boomerang! I reckon yo' an' I better take a hand in
dish yeah argument."
"Not unless you want trouble!" cried Morse.
"I doan't mind trouble, not in de leastest," answered Eradicate
cheerfully. "Me an' Boomerang has had lots of trouble. We's used to
it. No, Mistah Man, you'd better let go ob mah friend, Mistah Swift,
if yo' doan't want trouble yo' ownse'f."
"Drive on, and mind your business!" cried Morse, now unreasoningly
angry. "This is my affair," and he gave Tom a shake.
Our hero was not going to submit tamely, however. He had one hand
free, and raised to strike Morse, but the latter, letting go his hold
on the lad's shoulder, grasped with that hand, the fist which the
young inventor had raised. Then, with his other hand, the scoundrel
was about to hit Tom.
"Break away four him, Mistah Swift!" directed the colored man. "Yo'
can fight him, den!"
"I guess he'll have his own troubles doing that," sneered Morse.
"Not ef I help him," answered Eradicate promptly, as he climbed back
off the seat, into the body of his ramshackle vehicle.
"Don't you interfere with me!" stormed the man.
An instant later Tom broke away from his tormentor, and laid his
motor-cycle on the ground, in order to have both hands free for the
attack he felt would follow.
"Ha! You think you're going to escape, do you?" cried Morse, as he
started toward Tom, his eyes blazing. "I'll show you who you're
dealing with!"
"Yes, an' I reckon I'll show yo' suffin yo' ain't lookin' fer!"
suddenly cried Eradicate.
With a quick motion he picked up a pail of white-wash from his wagon,
and, with sure aim, emptied the contents of the bucket over Morse, who
was rushing at Tom. The white fluid spread over the man from head to
foot, enveloping him as in a white shroud, and his advance was
instantly checked.
"Dar! I reckon dat's de quickest white-washin' job I done in some
time!" chuckled Eradicate, as he grasped his long handled brush, and
clambered down from the wagon, ready for a renewal of the hostilities
on the part of Morse. "De bestest white-washin' job I done in some
time; yais, sah!"
Chapter 4 - A Trial Trip
There was no fear that Anson Morse would return to the attack. Blinded
by the whitewash which ran in his eyes, but which, being slaked, did
not burn him, he grouped blindly about, pawing the air with his
outstretched hands.
"You wait! You wait! You'll suffer for this!" he spluttered, as soon
as he could free his mouth from the trickling fluid. Then, wiping it
from his face, with his hands, as best he could, he shook his fist at
Tom. "I'll pay you and that black rascal back!" he cried. "You wait!"
"I hopes yo' pays me soon," answered Eradicate, "'case as how dat
whitewash was wuff twenty-five cents, an' I got t' go git mo' to
finish doin' a chicken coop I'm wurkin' on. Whoa, oar Boomerang. Dere
ain't goin' t' be no mo' trouble I reckon."
Morse did not reply. He had been most unexpectedly repulsed, and, with
the white-wash dripping from his garments, he turned and fairly ran
toward a strip of woodland that bordered the highway at that place.
Tom approached the colored man, and held out a welcoming hand.
"I don't know what I'd done if you hadn't come along, Rad," the lad
said. "That fellow was desperate, and this was a lonely spot to be
attacked. Your whitewash came in mighty handy."
"Yais, sah, Mistah Swift, dat's what it done. I knowed I could use it
on him, ef he got too obstreperous, an' dat's what he done. But I were
goin' to fight him wif mah bresh, ef he'd made any more trouble."
"Oh, I fancy we have seen the last of him for some time," said Tom,
but he looked worried. It was evident that the Happy Harry gang was
still hanging around the neighborhood of Shopton, and the fact that
Morse was bold enough to attack our hero in broad day-light argued
that he felt little fear of the authorities.
"Ef yo' wants t' catch him, Mistah Swift," went on Eradicate, "yo' kin
trace him by de whitewash what drops offen him," and he pointed to a
trail of white drops which showed the path Morse had taken.
"No, the less I have to do with him the better I like it," answered
the lad. "But I can't thank you enough, Rad. You have helped me out of
difficulties several times now. You put me on the trail of the men in
the deserted mansion, you warned me of the log Andy Foger placed
across the road, and now you have saved me from Morse."
"Oh, dat's nuffin, Mistah Swift. Yo' has suah done lots fo' me.
'Sides, mah mule, Boomerang, am entitled t' de most credit dish yeah
time. I were comin' down de street, on mah way t' a whitewashin' job,
when I seen yo', an yo' lickitysplit machine," for so Eradicate
designated a motorcycle. "I knowed it were yo', an' I didn't laik de
looks ob dat man. Den I see he had hold ob you, an' I t'ought he were
a burglar. So I yelled t' Boomerang t' hurry up. Now, mostly, when I
wants Boomerang t' hurry, he goes slow, an' when I wants him t' go
slow, he runs away. But dish yeah time he knowed he were comin' t'
help yo', an' he certainly did leg it, dat's what he done! He run laik
he were goin' home t' a stable full ob oats, an' dat's how I got heah
so quick. Den I t'ought ob de whitewash, an' I jest. used it."
"It was the most effective weapon you could have used," said Tom,
gratefully.
"Deed no, Mistah Swift, I didn't hab no weapon," spoke Eradicate
earnestly. "I ain't eben got mah razor, 'case I left it home. I didn't
hab no weapon at all. I jest used de whitewash, laik yo' seen me."
"That's what I meant," answered Tom, trying not to laugh at the simple
negro's misunderstanding. "I'm ever so much obliged to you, just the
same, and here's a half dollar to pay for the whitewash."
"Oh, no, Mistah Swift, I doan't want t' take it. I kin make mo'
whitewash."
But Tom insisted, and picked up his machine to sprint for home.
Eradicate started to tell over again, how he urged Boomerang on, but
the lad had no time to listen.
"But I didn't hab no weapon, Mistah Swift, no indeedy, none at all,
not even mah razor," repeated Eradicate. "Only de pail ob whitewash.
That is, lessen yo' calls mah bresh a weapon."
"Well, it's a sort of one," admitted Tom, with a laugh as he started
his machine. "Come around next week, Rad. We have some dirt
eradicating for you to attend to."
"Deed an' I will, Mistah Swift. Eradicate is mah name, an' I
eradicates de dirt. But dat man such did look odd, wif dat pail ob
whitewash all ober him. He suah did look most extraordinarily. Gidap,
Boomerang. See if yo' can break some mo' speed records now."
But the mule appeared to be satisfied with what he had done, and, as
he rode off, Tom looked back to see the colored man laboring to get
the sleepy, animal started.
The lad did not tell his father of the adventure with Morse, but he
related the occurrence to Mr. Sharp.
"I'd like to get hold of that scoundrel, and the others in the gang!"
exclaimed the balloonist. "I'd take him up in the airship, and drop
him down into the lake. He's a bad man. So are the others. Wonder what
they -want around here?"
"That's what's puzzling me," admitted Tom. "I hope dad doesn't hear
about them or he will be sure to worry; and maybe it will interfere
with his new ideas."
"He hasn't told you yet what he's engaged in inventing; has he?"
"No, and I don't like to ask him. He said the other day, though, that
it would rival our airship, but in a different way."
"I wonder what be meant?"
"It's hard to say. But I don't believe he can invent anything that
will go ahead of our craft, even if he is my own father, and the best
one in the world," said Tom, half jokingly. "Well, I got the bolts,
now let's get to work. I'm anxious for a trial trip."
"No more than I am. I want to see if my ideas will work out in
practice as well as they do in theory."
For a week or more Tom and Mr. Sharp labored on the airship, with Mr.
Jackson to help them. The motor, with its twenty cylinders, was
installed, and the big aluminum holder fastened to the frame of the
planes. The rudders, one to control the elevation and depression of
the craft, and the other to direct its flight to the right or left,
were attached, and the steering wheel, as well as the levers
regulating the motor were put in place.
"About all that remains to be done now," said the aeronaut one night,
as he and Tom stood in the big shed, looking at their creation, "is to
fit up the car, and paint the machine."
"Can't we make a trial trip before we fit up the car ready for a long
flight?" asked the young inventor.
"Yes, but I wouldn't like to go out without painting the ship. Some
parts of it might rust if we get into the moist, cloudy, upper
regions."
"Then let's paint it to-morrow, and, as soon as it's dry we'll have a
test."
"All right. I'll mix the paint the first thing in the morning."
It took two days to paint the machine, for much care had to be used,
and, when it was finished Tom looked admiringly up at it.
"We ought to name it," suggested Mr. Sharp, as he removed a bit of
paint from the end of the nose.
"To be sure," agreed Tom. "And hold on, I have the very name for it-
Red Cloud!"
"Red Cloud?" questioned Mr. Sharp.
"Yes!" exclaimed Tom, with enthusiasm. "It's painted red-at least the
big, aluminum gas container is-and we hope to go above the clouds in
it. Why not Red Cloud?"
"That's what it shall be!" conceded the balloonist. "If I had a bottle
of malted milk, or something like that, I'd christen it."
"We ought to have a young lady to do that part," suggested Tom. "They
always have young ladies to name ships."
"Were you thinking of any particular young lady?" asked Mr. Sharp
softly, and Tom blushed; as he replied
"Oh no-of course that is-well--Oh, hang it, christen it yourself, and
let me alone," he finished.
"Well, in the absence of Miss Mary Nestor, who, I think, would be the
best one for the ceremony," said Mr. Sharp, with a twinkle in his
eyes, "I christen thee Red Cloud," and with that he sprinkled some
water on the pointed nose of the red aluminum gas bag, for the
aeronaut and Tom were on a high staging, on a level with the upper
part of the airship.
"Red Cloud it is!" cried Tom, enthusiastically. "Now, to-morrow we'll
see what it can do."
The day of the test proved all that could be desired in the way of
weather. The fact that an airship was being constructed in the Swift
shops had been kept as secret as possible, but of course many in
Shopton knew of it, for Andy Foger had spread the tidings.
"I hope we won't have a crowd around to see us go up," said Tom, as he
and Mr. Sharp went to the shed to get the Red Cloud in readiness for
the trial. "I shouldn't want to have them laugh at us, if we fail to
rise."
"Don't worry. We'll go up all right," declared Mr. Sharp. "The only
thing I'm at all worried about is our speed. I want to go fast, but we
may not be able to until our motor gets 'tuned-up'. But we'll rise."
The gas machine had already been started, and the vapor was hissing
inside the big aluminum holder. It was decided to try to go up under
the lifting power of the gas, and not use the aeroplane feature for
sending aloft the ship, as there was hardly room, around the shops,
for a good start.
When enough of the vapor had been generated to make the airship
buoyant, the big doors of the shed were opened, and Tom and Mr. Sharp,
with the aid of Garret and Mr. Swift, shoved it slowly out.
"There it is! There she comes!" cried several vices outside the high
fence that surrounded the Swift property. "They're going up!"
"Andy Foger is in that bunch," remarked Tom with a grim smile. "I hope
we don't fail."
"We won't. Don't worry," advised Mr. Sharp.
The shouts outside the fence increased. It was evident that quite a
crowd of boys, as well as men, had collected, though it was early in
the morning. Somehow, news of the test had leaked out.
The ship continued to get lighter and lighter as more gas was
generated. It was held down by ropes, fastened to stakes driven in the
ground. Mr. Sharp entered the big car that was suspended, below the
aeroplanes.
"Come on, Tom," the aeronaut called. "We're almost ready to fly. Will
you come too, Mr. Swift, and Garret?"
"Some other time," promised the aged inventor. "It looks as though you
were going to succeed, though. I'll wait, however, until after the
test before I venture."
"How about you, Garret?" asked Tom of the engineer, as the young
inventor climbed into the car.
"The ground is good enough for me," was the answer, with a smile.
"Broken bones don't mend so easily when you're past sixty-five."
"But we're not going to fall!" declared Mr. Sharp. "All ready, Tom.
Cast off! Here we go!"
The restraining ropes were quickly cast aside. Slowly at first, and
then with a rush, as though feeling more and more sure of herself, the
Red Cloud arose in the air like a gigantic bird of scarlet plumage. Up
and up it went, higher than the house, higher than the big shed where
it had been built, higher, higher, higher!
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