Tom Swift and His Airship
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Victor Appleton >> Tom Swift and His Airship
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The craft mounted rapidly upward, but before it was beyond rifle shot
another volley was fired, one bullet sending some splinters flying
from the wooden framework.
"Whew! That was a narrow escape!" exclaimed Mr. Sharp. "What in the
world can those people be up to, anyhow?"
Chapter 16 - Over a Fiery Furnace
Down below, the aeronauts could see the crowd, led by the police,
scurrying to and fro. Many individuals beside the officers appeared to
be holding weapons, and, from the puffs of smoke that spurted out, it
was evident that more shots were being fired. But the bullets could do
no harm, and the Red Cloud, under the force of the rapidly revolving
propellers, was soon beyond the center of the city.
"Well, if that isn't the limit!" cried Tom. "They must have taken us
for a German war balloon, about to drop explosives on them."
"Bless my liver!" ejaculated Mr. Damon, "I believe you're right. Eh,
Mr. Sharp?"
The veteran balloonist took a careful look over the craft before
replying. Then he spoke:
"It couldn't be that," and he shook his head, as if puzzled. "They
would know no foreign airship would try any trick like that. Beside,
if by some remote possibility they did imagine it, there would be
soldiers shooting at us, instead of the police. As it was, the whole
population seemed anxious to bring us down."
"And they nearly did," added Mr. Damon. "If they had shot a few holes
in the gas bag where would we be?"
"Right in the air," answered the balloonist. "It would take several
volleys of bullets to damage our aluminum container. It is in sections
and when one, or even five compartments, for that matter, are pierced,
there is enough gas in the others to sustain us. So they could not
have damaged us much, even if they had shot a lot of holes in us. Even
without the gas container we can keep afloat by constantly moving, for
the planes will serve their purpose. Of course they could damage us,
and maybe put some of our machinery out of business, and that would be
a serious thing. But what puzzles me is why they fired at us at all."
"It couldn't be out of pure mischief; could it?" asked the young
inventor.
"Hardly. If we were in a savage country I could understand the natives
firing at some such object as this airship, but the people of that
city must have known what our craft was. They probably have read
something about it in the news papers, and to deliberately fire on us,
with the chance of disabling us, seems worse than barbarous."
"Well, we won't give 'em another opportunity," commented Mr. Damon.
"No, indeed, not this city, but who knows but what the example may
spread? We may be fired at the next town we sail over."
"Then steer clear of the towns," advised Tom.
"Impossible. We must pass over some, but I'd like to solve this
mystery."
The day passed without further incident, though they did not go low
enough down over any city to drop any messages. It was decided that it
would not be safe.
"We'll take a chance at night," suggested Tom, and that evening,
approaching a good-sized town in the dusk, several of the weighted
envelopes were dropped overboard. Doubtless persons walking along the
street, who were startled by hearing something fall with a "thud" at
their feet, were much startled to look up and see, dimly, a great,
ghostly shape moving in the air. But there was no shooting, and,
eventually, some of the messages reached Mr. Swift, in Shopton. But he
could not answer them for the airship kept on the move.
The night was spent floating in the air, with the engine stopped, and
the Red Cloud floating lazily this way and that as the gentle winds
shifted, for it was calm. The "anchorage" if such it may be called,
was above a sparsely settled part of the country, and if the lights of
the airship were seen from below, the farmers doubtless took them for
some new stars or, possibly, a comet.
"Now then for a fast, straight run!" cried Tom, after breakfast had
been served, and the big motor, with its twenty cylinders, started.
"We'll be able to make the turn to-day, and then make for home, won't
we, Mr. Sharp?"
"Well, we could do it, Tom," was the answer, "but I like this mode of
traveling so that I think I'll lengthen the voyage. Instead of turning
at Atlanta, what do you say to making for Key West, and then starting
back? That will be something of a trip. The Red Cloud is behaving much
better than I hoped she would."
"I'm willing to go further if Mr. Damon is."
"Oh, bless my shoe strings, I'm game!" exclaimed the eccentric man. "I
always did want to go to Key West, anyhow."
The craft was speeding along at a fast clip, and dinner that day was
served about three miles in the air. Then, desiring to test the
gliding abilities of the airship, it was sent down on a long slant,
with the propellers stationary, the shifting planes and rudders alone
guiding it.
As the craft fairly slid down out of the sky, like a sled on a bank of
fleecy snow, Tom, who was peering ahead, with his hand on the steering
wheel, cried out "I say! It looks as if we were going to run into a
thunder storm!"
"How's that?" inquired Mr. Sharp, poking his head from the motor
compartment.
"He says there's a big storm ahead," repeated Mr. Damon, "and I guess
he's right. I see a big bank of dark clouds, and there is a roaring in
the air."
Mr. Sharp, who had been making some adjustments to the motor went
forward to take a look. The Red Cloud was swiftly gliding downward on
a slant, straight toward a dark mass of vapor, that seemed to be
rolling first one way, and then another, while as Mr. Damon had said,
there was a low rumbling proceeding from it.
"That doesn't seem to be a thunder storm," spoke the balloonist, with
a puzzled air.
They all regarded the dark mass of vapor intently for a few seconds.
Tom had brought the airship to a more level keel, and it was now
spinning along under its own momentum, like a flat piece of tin,
scaled by some lead. But it was headed for the clouds, if such they
were, though losing speed by degrees.
"I'll have to start the motor!" exclaimed Mr. Sharp. "We don't want to
run into a storm, if we can help it, though I don't ever remember
seeing a thunder disturbance like that."
"Whew! It's getting warm," suddenly announced the youth, and he let go
of the steering wheel for a moment, while he took off his coat.
"That's what it is," agreed Mr. Damon, who also divested himself of
his garments. "Bless my spark plug, but it's like a July day. No
wonder there's a thunderstorm ahead."
Then Mr. Sharp uttered a cry. "That's no storm!" he fairly shouted.
"It's a big forest fire! That's smoke we see! We must get out of this.
Turn around Tom, while I start the engine. We must rise above it!"
He fairly leaped for the motor, and Tom and Mr. Damon could hear him
turning the levers and wheels, ready to start. But before the
explosions came something happened. There was a sound as of some
great, siren whistle blowing, and then, with a howl of the on rushing
air, the Red Cloud, the propellers of which hung motionless on their
shafts, was fairly sucked forward toward the fire, as the current
sucks a boat over a water fall.
"Start the motor! Start the motor, Mr. Sharp!" cried Tom.
"I'm trying to, but something seems to be the matter."
"We're being drawn right over the fire!" yelled Mr. Damon. "It's
getting hotter every minute! Can't you do something?"
"You take the wheel," called the balloonist to Mr. Damon. "Steer
around, just as if it was an auto when we start the engine. Tom, come
here and give me a hand. The motor has jammed!"
The young inventor sprang to obey. Mr. Damon, his face showing some of
the fear he felt, grasped the steering wheel. The airship was now
about a quarter of a mile high, but instead of resting motionless in
the air, sustained by the gas in the container, she was being pulled
forward, right toward the heart of the mass of black vapor, which it
could now be seen was streaked with bright tongues of flame.
"What's making us go ahead, if the motor isn't going?" asked Tom, as
he bent over the machine, at which the aeronaut was laboring.
"Suction-draught from the fire!" explained Mr. Sharp. "Heated air
rises and leaves a vacuum. The cold air rushes in. It's carrying us
with it. We'll be right in the fire in a few minutes, if we can't get
started with this motor! I don't see what ails it."
"Can't we steer to one side, as it is?"
"No. We're right in a powerful current of air, and steering won't do
any good, until we have some motion of our own. Turn the gasolene
lever on a little more, and see if you can get a spark."
Tom did so, but no explosion resulted. The twenty cylinders of the big
engine remained mute. The airship, meanwhile, was gathering speed,
sucked onward and downward as it was by the draught from the fire. The
roaring was plainer now, and the crackling of the flames could be
heard plainly. The heat, too, grew more, intense.
Frantically Tom and Mr. Sharp labored over the motor. With the
perverseness usual to gas engines, it had refused to work at a
critical moment.
"What shall I do?" cried Mr. Damon from his position in the pilot
house. "We seem to be heading right for the midst of it?"
"Slant the elevation rudder," called Tom. "Send the ship up. It will
be cooler the higher we go. Maybe we can float over it!"
"You'd better go out there," advised Mr. Sharp. "I'll keep at this
motor. Go up as high as you can. Turn on more gas. That will elevate
us, but maybe not quick enough. The gas doesn't generate well in great
heat. I'm afraid we're in for it," he added grimly.
Tom sprang to relieve Mr. Damon. The heat was now intense. Nearer and
nearer came the Red Cloud to the blazing forest, which seemed to cover
several square miles. Great masses of smoke, with huge pieces of
charred and blazing wood carried up by the great draught, circled
around the ship. The Red Cloud was being pulled into the midst of the
fire by the strong suction. Tom yanked over the elevation rudder, and
the nose of the craft pointed upward. But it still moved downward,
and, a moment later the travelers of the air felt as if they were over
a fiery furnace.
Chapter 17 - "Wanted For Robbery!"
Choking and gasping for breath, feeling as if they could not stand the
intense heat more than a moment longer, the young inventor and his
companions looked at each other. Death seemed ready to reach out and
grasp them. The mass of heated air was so powerful that it swung and
tossed the Red Cloud about as if it were a wisp of paper.
"We must do something!" cried Mr. Damon, beginning to take off his
collar and vest. "I'm choking!"
"Lie down in the bottom of the car," suggested Mr. Sharp. "The smoke
won't trouble you so much there."
The eccentric man, too startled, now, to use any of his "blessing"
expressions, did so.
"Can't you start the motor?" asked Tom frantically, as he stuck to his
post, with his hand on the steering wheel, the elevation lever jammed
back as far as it would go.
"I've done my best," answered the balloonist, gasping as he swallowed
some smoke. "I'm afraid--afraid it's all up with us. We should have
steered clear of this from the first. My, how it roars!"
The crackling and snapping of the flames below them, as they fed on
the dry wood, which no rain had wet for weeks, was like the rush of
some great cataract. Up swirled the dark smoke-clouds, growing hotter
and hotter all the while as the craft came nearer and nearer to the
center of the conflagration.
"We must rise higher!" cried Tom. "It's our only chance. Turn on the
gas machine full power, and fill the container. That will carry us
up!"
"Yes, it's our only hope," muttered Mr. Sharp. "We must go up, but the
trouble is the gas doesn't generate so fast when there's too much
heat. We're bound to have to stay over this fiery pit for some time
yet."
"We're going up a little!" spoke Tom hopefully, as he glanced at a
gauge near him. "We're fifteen hundred feet now, and we were only
twelve a while ago."
"Good! Keep the elevation rudder as it is, and I'll see what I can do
with the gas," advised the balloonist. "It's our only hope," and he
hurried into the engine room, which, like the other parts of the
cabin, was now murky with choking vapor and soot.
Suddenly the elevation gauge showed that they were falling. The
airship was going down.
"What's the matter?" called Mr. Damon, from the cabin floor.
"I don't know," answered Tom, "unless the rudder has broken."
He peered through the haze. No, the big elevation rudder was still in
place, but it seemed to have no effect on the shim
"It's a down draught!" cried Mr. Sharp. "We're being sucked down. It
won't last but a few seconds. I've been in 'em before."
He seemed to have guessed rightly, for, the next instant the airship
was shooting upward again, and relief came to the aeronauts, though it
was not much, for the heat was almost unbearable, and they had taken
off nearly all their clothing.
"Lighten ship!" sung out Mr. Sharp. "Toss over all the things you
think we can spare, Tom. Some of the cases of provisions-we can get
more-if we need 'em. We must rise, and the gas isn't generating fast
enough!"
There was no need for the young inventor at the steering wheel now,
for the craft simply could not be guided. It was swirled about, now
this way, now that, by the currents of heated air. At times it would
rise a considerable distance, only to be pulled down again, and, just
before Tom began to toss overboard some boxes of food, it seemed that
the end had come, for the craft went down so low that the upward
leaping tongues of flame almost reached the lower frame.
"I'll help you," gasped Mr. Damon, and while he and Tom tossed from
the cabin windows some of their stores, Mr. Sharp was frantically
endeavoring to make the gas generate faster.
It was slow work, but with the lightening of the ship their situation
improved. Slowly, so slowly that it seemed an age, the elevation
pointer went higher and higher on the dial.
"Sixteen hundred feet!" sung out Tom, pausing for a look at the gauge.
"That's the best yet!"
The heat was felt less, now, and every minute was improving their
situation. Slowly the hand moved. The gas was being made in larger
quantities now that the heat was less. Ten minutes more of agony, and
their danger was over. They were still above the burning area, but
sufficiently high so that only stray wisps of smoke enveloped them.
"Whew! But that was the worst ever!" cried Tom, as he sank exhausted
on a bench, and wiped his perspiring face. "We sure were in a bad
way!"
"I should say so," agreed Mr. Sharp. "And if we don't get a breeze we
may have to stay here for some time."
"Why, can't you get that motor to work yet?" asked Mr. Damon. "Bless
my gaiters, but I'm all in, as the boys say."
"I'll have another try at the machine now," replied Mr. Sharp.
"Probably it will work now, after we're out of danger without the aid
of it."
His guess proved correct, for, in a few minutes, with the aid of Tom,
the motor started, the propellers revolved, and the Red Cloud was sent
swiftly out of the fire zone.
"Now we'd better take account of ourselves, our provisions, and the
ship," said Mr. Sharp, when they had flown about twenty miles, and
were much refreshed by the cooler atmosphere. "I don't believe the
craft is damaged any, except some of the braces may be warped by the
heat. As for the provisions, you threw over a lot; didn't you, Tom?"
"Well, I had to."
"Yes, I guess you did. Well, we'll make a landing."
"Do you think it will be safe?" asked Mr. Damon anxiously. "We might
be fired upon again."
"Oh, there's no danger of that. But I'll take precautions. I don't
want a big crowd around when we come down, so we'll pick out a
secluded place and land just at dusk. Then in the morning we can look
over the ship, and go to the nearest town to buy provisions. After
that we can continue our journey, and we'll steer clear of forest
fires after this."
"And people who shoot at us," added Mr. Damon.
"Yes. I wish I knew what that was done for," and once again came that
puzzled look to the face of the balloonist.
The airship gently descended that evening in a large level field, a
good landing being made. just before the descent Tom took an
observation and located, about two miles from the spot they selected
for an "anchorage," a good-sized village.
"We can get provisions there," he announced.
"Yes, but we must not let it be known what they are for," said Mr.
Sharp, "or we'll have the whole population out here. I think this will
be a good plan: Tom, you and Mr. Damon go into town and buy the things
we need. I'll stay here with the airship, and look it all over. You
can arrange to have the stuff carted out here in the morning, and left
at a point say about a quarter of a mile away. Then we can carry it to
the ship. In that way no one will discover us, and we'll not be
bothered with curiosity-seekers."
This was voted a good idea, and, when the landing had been made, and a
hasty examination showed that the ship had suffered no great damage
from the passage over the fire, the young inventor and Mr. Damon
started off.
They soon found a good road, leading to town, and tramped along it in
the early evening. The few persons they met paid little attention to
them, save to bow in a friendly fashion, and, occasionally wish them
good evening.
"I wonder where we are?" asked Tom, as they hurried along.
"In some southern town, to judge by the voices of the people, and the
number of colored individuals we've met," answered Mr. Damon.
"Let's ask," suggested Tom.
"No, if you do they'll know we're strangers, and they may ask a lot of
questions."
"Oh, I guess if it's a small place they'll know we're strangers soon
enough," commented Tom. "But when we get to the village itself we can
read the name on the store windows."
A few minutes later found them in the midst of a typical southern
town. It was Berneau, North Carolina, according to the signs, they
saw.
"Here's a restaurant," called Tom, as they passed a neat-appearing
one. "Let's go inside and get some supper before we buy our supplies."
"Good!" exclaimed Mr. Damon. "Bless my flapjacks, but I am beginning
to feel hungry."
The eating place was a good one, and Tom's predictions about their
being taken for strangers was verified, for, no sooner had they given
their orders than the pretty, white girl, who waited on the table
remarked
"Ah reckon yo' all are from th' no'th; aren't yo'?"She smiled, as she
spoke, and Tom smiled back as he acknowledged it.
"Have you a paper-a newspaper I could look at?" he asked.
"Ah guess Ah can find one," went on the girl. "Ah reckon yo' all are
from N' York. N' Yorkers are so desperant bent on readin' th' news."
Her tones were almost like those of a colored person.
"Yes, we're from a part of New York," was Tom's reply.
When a newspaper was brought to him, after they had nearly finished
their meal, the young inventor rapidly scanned the pages. Something on
the front sheet, under a heading of big, black type caught his eye. He
started as he read it
WANTED FOR ROBBERY!
BANK LOOTERS ESCAPE IN RED AIRSHIP-FIRED AT
BUT DISAPPEAR
"Great Jehosophat!" exclaimed Tom, in a low voice. "What on earth can
this mean?"
"What?" inquired Mr. Damon. "Has anything happened?"
"Happened? I should say there had," was the answer. "Why, we're
accused of having robbed the Shopton Bank of seventy-five thousand
dollars the night before we left, and to have taken it away in the Red
Cloud. There's a general alarm out for us! Why this is awful!"
"It's preposterous!" burst out Mr. Damon. "I'll have my lawyers sue
this paper. Bless my stocks and bonds, I!"
"Hush! Not so loud," cautioned Tom, for the pretty waitress was
watching them curiously. "Here, read this, and then we'll decide what
to do. But one thing is certain, we must go back to Shopton at once to
clear ourselves of this accusation."
"Ha!" murmured Mr. Damon, as he read the article rapidly. "Now I know
why they fired at us. They hoped to bring us down, capture us, and get
the five thousand dollars reward!"
Chapter 18 - Back For Vindication
Tom glanced around the restaurant. There were few persons in it save
himself and Mr. Damon. The pretty waitress was still regarding the two
curiously.
"We ought to take that paper along with us, to show to Mr. Sharp,"
said Tom, in a low voice to his friend. "I haven't had time to take it
all in myself, yet. Let's go. I've had enough to eat, haven't you?"
"Yes. My appetite is gone now."
As they arose, to pay their checks the girl advanced.
"Can you tell me where I can get a copy of this paper?" asked Tom, as
he laid down a generous tip on the table, for the girl. Her eyes
opened rather wide.
"Yo' all are fo'gettin' some of yo' money." she said, in her broad,
southern tones. Tom thought her the prettiest girl he ever seen,
excepting Mary Nestor.
"Oh, that's for you," replied the young inventor. "It's a tip. Aren't
you in the habit of getting them down here?"
"Not very often. Thank yo' all. But what did yo' all ask about that
paper?"
"I asked where I could get a copy of it. There is something in it that
interests me."
"Yes, an' Ah reckon Ah knows what it is," exclaimed the girl. "It's
about that airship with th' robbers in it!"
"How do you know?" inquired Tom quickly, and he tried to seem cool,
though he felt the hot blood mounting to his cheeks.
"Oh, Ah saw yo' all readin' it. Everybody down heah is crazy about it.
We all think th' ship is comin' down this way, 'cause it says th'
robbers was intendin' to start south befo' they robbed th' bank. Ah
wish Ah could collect thet five thousand dollars. If Ah could see that
airship, I wouldn't work no mo' in this eatin' place. What do yo' all
reckon thet airship looks like?" and the girl gazed intently at Tom
and Mr. Damon.
"Why, bless my-" began the eccentric man, but Tom broke in hurriedly:
"Oh, I guess it looks like most any other airship," for he feared that
if his companion used any of his odd expressions he might be
recognized, since our hero had not had time to read the article in the
paper through, and was not sure whether or not a description of
himself, Mr. Damon and Mr. Sharp was given.
"Well, Ah suah wish I could collect thet reward," went on the girl.
"Everybody is on th' lookout. Yo' all ain't see th' airship; have yo'
all?"
"Where can we get a paper like this?" asked Tom, again, not wanting to
answer such a leading question.
"Why, yo' all is suah welcome to that one," was the reply. "Ah guess
Ah can affo'd to give it to yo' all, after th' generous way yo' all
behaved to me. Take it, an' welcome. But are yo' all suah yo' are done
eatin' ? Yo' all left lots."
"Oh, we had enough," replied Tom hurriedly. His sole aim now was to
get away-to consult with Mr. Sharp, and he needed the paper to learn
further details of the astonishing news. He and his friends accused of
looting the bank, and taking away seventy-five thousand dollars in the
airship! It was incredible! A reward of five thousand dollars offered
for their capture! They might be arrested any minute, yet they could
not go on without buying some provisions. What were they to do?
Once outside the restaurant, Mr. Damon and Tom walked swiftly on. They
came to a corner where there was a street lamp, and there the young
inventor paused to scan the paper again. It was the copy of a journal
published in the nearby county seat, and contained quite a full
account of the affair.
The story was told of how the bank had been broken into, the vault
rifled and the money taken. The first clue, it said, was given by a
youth named Andy Foger, who had seen a former acquaintance hanging
around the bank with burglar tools. Tom recognized the description of
himself as the "former acquaintance," but he could not understand the
rest.
"Burglar tools? I wonder how Andy could say that?" he asked Mr. Damon.
"Wait until we get back, and we'll ask John Sharp," suggested his
companion. "This is very strange. I am going to sue some one for
spreading false reports about me! Bless my ledgers, why I have money
on deposit in that bank! To think that I would rob it!"
"Poor dad!" murmured Tom. "This must be hard for him. But what about
ordering food? Maybe if we buy any they will trail us, find the
airship and capture it. I don't want to be arrested, even if I am
innocent, and I certainly don't want the airship to fall into the
hands of the police. They might damage it"
"We must go see Mr. Sharp," declared Mr. Damon, and back to where the
Red Cloud was concealed they went.
To say that the balloonist was astonished is putting it mildly. He was
even more excited than was Mr. Damon.
"Wait until I get hold of that Andy Foger!" he cried. "I'll make him
sweat for this! I see he's already laid claim to the reward," he
added, reading further along in the article. "He thinks he has put the
police on our trail."
"So he seems to have done," added Tom. "The whole country has been
notified to look out for us," the paper says. "We're likely to be
fired upon whenever we pass over a city or a town."
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