Tom Swift and his Wireless Message
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Victor Appleton >> Tom Swift and his Wireless Message
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"Shall I keep supper for you?" asked Mrs. Baggert, the housekeeper.
"I don't know," answered Tom, with a laugh. "Perhaps I'll drop down
at Miss Nestor's, and have some apple turnovers," for he had told
them or the incident of hiring the new cook. "Well," he went on to
Mr. Damon, "are you all ready?"
"As ready as I ever shall be. Do you think we'll have to do any vol-
planing, Tom?"
"Hard to say, but it's not dangerous when there's no wind. All
right, Garret. Start her off."
The engineer whirled the big wooden, built-up propeller, and with a
rattle and roar of the motor, effectually drowning any but the
loudest shouts, the BUTTERFLY was ready for her flight. Tom let the
engine warm up a bit before calling to his friends to let go, and
then, when he had thrown the gasolene lever forward, he shouted a
good-by and cried:
"All right! Let go!"
Forward, like a hound from the leash, sprang the little monoplane.
It ran perhaps for five hundred feet, and then, with a tilting of
the wings, to set the air currents against them, it sprang into the
air.
"We're off!" cried Mr. Damon, waving his hand to those on the ground
below.
"Yes, we're off," murmured Tom. "Now for the Quaker City!"
He had mapped out a route for himself the night before, and now,
picking out the land-marks, he laid as straight a course as possible
for Philadelphia.
The sensation of flying along, two thousand feet high, in a machine
almost as frail as a canoe, was not new to Tom. It was, in a degree,
to Mr. Damon, for, though the latter had made frequent trips in the
large airship, this mode of locomotion, as if he was on the back of
some bird, was much different. Still, after the first surprise, he
got used to it.
"Bless my finger ring!" he exclaimed, "I like it!"
"I thought you would," said Tom, in a shout, and he adjusted the oil
feed to send more lubricant into the cylinders.
The earth stretched out below them, like some vari-colored relief
map, but they could not stop to admire any particular spot long, for
they were flying fast, and were beyond a scene almost as quickly as
they had a glimpse of it.
"How long will it take us?" yelled Mr. Damon into Tom's ear.
"I hope to do it in three hours," shouted back the young inventor.
"What! Why it takes the train over five hours."
"Yes, I know, but we're going direct, and it's only about two
hundred and fifty miles. That's only about eighty an hour. We're
doing seventy-five now, and I haven't let her out yet."
"She goes faster than the RED CLOUD," cried Mr. Damon.
Tom nodded. It was hard work to talk in that rush of air. For an
hour they shot along, their speed gradually increasing. Tom called
out the names of the larger places they passed over. He was now
doing better than eighty an hour as the gage showed. The trip was a
glorious one, and the eyes of the young inventor and his friend
sparkled in delight as they rushed forward. Two hours passed.
"Going to make it?" fairly howled Mr. Damon.
Tom nodded again.
"Be there in time for dinner," he announced in a shout.
It lacked forty minutes of the three hours when Tom, pointing with
one hand down below, while with the other he gripped the lever of
the rudder, called:
"North Philadelphia!"
"So soon?" gasped Mr. Damon. "Well, we certainly made speed! Where
are you going to land?"
"I don't know," answered the young inventor, "I'll have to pick out
the best place I see. It's no fun landing in a city. No room to run
along, after you're down."
"What's the matter with Franklin Field?" cried Mr. Damon. "Out where
they play football."
"Good! The very thing!" shouted Tom.
"Mr. Fenwick lives near there," went on Mr. Damon, and Tom nodded
comprehendingly.
They were now over North Philadelphia, and, in a few minutes more
were above the Quaker City itself. They were flying rather low, and
as the people in the streets became aware of their presence there
was intense excitement. Tom steered for the big athletic field, and
soon saw it in the distance.
With a suddenness that was startling the motor ceased its terrific
racket. The monoplane gave a sickening dip, and Tom had to adjust
the wing tips and rudder quickly to prevent it slewing around at a
dangerous angle.
"What's the matter?" cried Mr. Damon, "Did you shut it off on
purpose?"
"No!" shouted Tom, "Something's gone wrong!"
"Gone wrong! Bless my overshoes! Is there any danger?"
"We'll have to vol-plane to earth," answered Tom, and there was a
grim look on his face. He had never executed this feat with a
passenger aboard He was wondering how the BUTTERFLY would behave.
But he would know very soon, for already the tiny monoplane was
shooting rapidly toward the big field, which was now swarming with a
curious crowd.
CHAPTER VI
THE NEW AIRSHIP
For a brief instant after the stopping of the motor, and the
consequent sudden dropping toward the earth of the monoplane, Tom
glanced at Mr. Damon. The latter's face was rather pale, but he
seemed calm and collected. His lips moved slightly, and Tom, even in
those tense moments, wondered if the odd gentleman was blessing
anything in particular, or everything in general.
Tom threw up the tilting plane, to catch more air beneath it, and
bring the BUTTERFLY in a more parallel position to the earth. This,
in a manner, checked the downward flight, and they glided along
horizontally for a hundred feet or more.
"Is--is there any great danger, Tom?" asked Mr. Damon.
"I think not," answered the young inventor, confidently. "I have
done this same thing before, and from greater heights. The only
thing that bothers me is that there are several cross-currents of
air up here, which make it difficult to manage the planes and wing
tips. But I think we'll make a good landing."
"Bless my overcoat!" exclaimed Mr. Damon "I certainly hope so."
Conversation was more easily carried on now, as the motor was not
spitting fire and throbbing like a battery of Gatling guns. Tom
thought perhaps it might start on the spark, as the propeller was
slowly swinging from the force of air against it. He tried, but
there was no explosion. He had scarcely hoped for it, as he realized
that some part of the mechanism must have broken.
Down they glided, coming nearer and nearer to the earth. The crowd
in the big athletic field grew larger. Shouts of wonder and fear
could be heard, and people could be seen running excitedly about. To
Tom and Mr. Damon they looked like dolls.
Reaching the limit of the parallel glide the monoplane once more
shot down on an incline toward the earth with terrible speed. The
ground seemed to rush up to meet Mr. Damon.
"Look out!" he cried to Tom. "We're going to hit something!"
"Not yet," was the calm answer "I'm going to try a new stunt. Hold
fast!"
"What are you going to do?"
"Some spirals. I think that will let us down easier, but the craft
is likely to tilt a bit, so hold on."
The young inventor shifted the movable planes and rudder, and, a
moment later, the BUTTERFLY swung violently around, like a polo pony
taking a sudden turn after the ball. Mr. Damon slid to one side of
his seat, and made a frantic grab for one of the upright supports.
"I made too short a turn!" cried Tom, easing off the craft, which
righted itself in an instant. "The air currents fooled me."
Under his skillful guidance, the monoplane was soon slowly
approaching the earth in a series of graceful curves. It was under
perfect control, and a smile of relief came on the face of the young
inventor. Seeing it Mr. Damon took courage, and his hands, which had
grasped the uprights with such firmness that his knuckles showed
white with the strain, were now removed. He sat easily in his seat.
"We're all right now," declared Tom. "I'll take a couple of forward
glides now, and we'll land."
He sent the machine straight ahead. It gathered speed in an instant.
Then, with an upward tilt it was slackened, almost as if brakes had
been applied. Once more it shot toward the earth, and once more it
was checked by an up-tilted plane.
Then with a thud which shook up the occupants of the two seats, the
BUTTERFLY came to the ground, and ran along on the three bicycle
wheels. Swiftly it slid over the level ground. A more ideal landing
place would have been hard to find. Scores of willing hands reached
out, and checked the momentum of the little monoplane, and Tom and
Mr. Damon climbed from their seats.
The crowd set up a cheer, and hundreds pressed around the aviators.
Several sought to reach, and touch the machine, for they had
probably never been so close to one before, though airship flights
are getting more and more common.
"Where did you come from?"
"Are you trying for a record?"
"How high did you get?"
"Did you fall, or come down on purpose?"
"Can't you start your motor in mid-air?"
These, and scores of other questions were fairly volleyed at Tom and
Mr. Damon. The young inventor good-naturedly answered them as best
he could.
"We were coming down anyhow," he explained, "but we did not
calculate on vol-planing. The motor was stalled, and I had to glide.
Please keep away from the machine. You might damage it."
The arrival of several policemen, who were attracted by the crowd,
served to keep the curious ones back away from the BUTTERFLY, or the
men, boys and women (for there were a number of the latter in the
throng) might have caused serious trouble.
Tom made a hasty examination of the motor, and, having satisfied
himself that only a minor difficulty had caused it to stop, he
decided to put the monoplane in some safe place, and proceed to Mr.
Fenwick's house.
The lad was just asking one of the officers if the air craft could
not be put in one of the grandstands which surrounded the field,
when a voice on the outskirts of the crowd excitedly exclaimed:
"Let me pass, please. I want to see that airship. I'm building one
myself, and I need all the experience I can get. Let me in, please."
A man pushed his way into the crowd, and wormed his way to where Tom
and Mr. Damon stood. At the sight of him, the eccentric individual
cried out:
"Why bless my pocket-knife! If it isn't Mr. Fenwick!"
"Mr. Fenwick?" gasped Tom.
"Yes. The inventor we came to see!"
At the same moment the newcomer cried out:
"Wakefield Damon!"
"That's who I am," answered Tom's friend, "and let me introduce you
to Mr. Swift, the inventor of more machines than I can count. He and
I were coming to see you, when we had a slight accident, and we
landed here. But that didn't matter, for we intended to land here
anyhow, as I knew it was near your house. Only we had to vol-plane
back to earth, and I can't say that I'd care for that, as a steady
diet. Bless my radiator, but I'm glad we've arrived safely."
"Did you come all the way from your home in that?" asked Mr. Fenwick
of Tom, as he shook hands with him, and nodded at the monoplane.
"Oh, yes. It's not much of a trip."
"Well, I hope my airship will do as well. But something seems to be
wrong with it, and I have hopes that you can help me discover what
it is, I know your father, and I have heard much of your ability.
That is why I requested your aid."
"I'm afraid I've been much overrated," spoke Tom, modestly, "but
I'll do all I can for you. I must now leave my monoplane in a safe
place, however."
"I'll attend to that," Mr. Fenwick hastened to assure him. "Leave it
to me."
By this time a lieutenant of police, in charge of several reserve
officers, had arrived on the scene, for the crowd was now very
large, and, as Mr. Fenwick knew this official, he requested that
Tom's machine be protected from damage. It was arranged that it
could be stored in a large, empty shed, and a policeman would be
left on guard. Then, seeing that it was all right, Tom, Mr. Damon
and Mr. Fenwick started for the latter's house.
"I am very anxious to show you the WHIZZER," said Mr. Fenwick, as
they walked along.
"The WHIZZER?" repeated Tom, wonderingly.
"Yes, that's what I call my electric airship. It hasn't 'whizzed'
any to speak of yet, but I have hopes that it will, now that you are
here to help me. We will take one of these taxicabs, and soon be at
my house. I was out for a stroll, when I saw your monoplane coming
down, and I hastened to Franklin Field to see it."
The three entered an automobile, and were soon being driven to the
inventor's home. A little later he led them out to a big shed which
occupied nearly all of a large lot, in back of Mr. Fenwick's house.
"Does it take up all that room?" asked Tom.
"Oh, yes, the WHIZZER is pretty good size. There she is!" cried Mr.
Fenwick proudly, as he threw open the doors of the shed, and Tom and
Mr. Damon, locking in, saw a large triplane, with a good-sized gas
bag hovering over it, and a strange collection of rudders, wings and
planes sticking out from either side. Amidships was an enclosed car,
or cabin, and a glimpse into it served to disclose to the young
inventor a mass of machinery.
"There she is! That's the WHIZZER!" cried Mr. Fenwick, with pride in
his voice. "What do you think of her, Tom Swift?"
Tom did not immediately answer. He looked dubiously at the electric
airship and shrugged his shoulders. It seemed to him, at first
glance, that, it would never sail.
CHAPTER VII
MAKING SOME CHANGES
"Well, what do you think of it?" asked Mr. Fenwick again, as Tom
walked all about the electric airship, still without speaking.
"It's big, certainly," remarked the lad.
"Bless my shoe horn! I should say it was!" burst out Mr. Damon.
"It's larger than your RED CLOUD, Tom."
"But will it go? That's what I want to know," insisted the inventor.
"Do you think it will fly, Tom? I haven't dared to try it yet,
though a small model which I made floated in the air for some time.
But it wouldn't move, except as the wind blew it."
"It would be hard to say, without a careful examination, whether
this large one will fly or not," answered Tom.
"Then give it a careful examination," suggested Mr. Fenwick. "I'll
pay you well for your time and trouble."
"Oh if I can help a fellow inventor, and assist in making a new
model of airship fly, I'm only too glad to do it without pay,"
retorted Tom, quickly. "I didn't come here for that. Suppose we go
in the cabin, and look at the motor. That's the most important
point, if your airship is to navigate."
There was certainly plenty of machinery in the cabin of the WHIZZER.
Most of it was electrical, for on that power Mr. Fenwick intended to
depend to sail through space. There was a new type of gasolene
engine, small but very powerful, and this served to operate a
dynamo. In turn, the dynamo operated an electrical motor, as Mr.
Fenwick had an idea that better, and more uniform, power could be
obtained in this way, than from a gasolene motor direct. One
advantage which Tom noticed at once, was that the WHIZZER had a
large electric storage battery.
This was intended to operate the electric motor in case of a break
to the main machinery, and it seemed a good idea. There were various
other apparatuses, machines, and appliances, the nature of which Tom
could not readily gather from a mere casual view.
"Well, what's your opinion, now that you have seen the motor?" asked
Mr. Fenwick, anxiously.
"I'd have to see it in operation," said Tom.
"And you shall, right after dinner," declared the inventor. "I'd
like to start it now, and hear what you have to say, but I'm not so
selfish as that. I know you must be hungry after your trip from
Shopton, as they say aeroplaning gives one an appetite."
"I don't know whether it's that or not," answered Tom with a laugh,
"but I am certainly hungry."
"Then we'll postpone the trial until after dinner. It must be ready
by this time, I think," said Mr. Fenwick, as he led the way back to
the house. It was magnificently furnished, for the inventor was a
man of wealth, and only took up aeroplaning as a "fad." An excellent
dinner was served, and then the three returned once more to the shed
where the WHIZZER was kept.
"Shall I start the motor in here?" asked Mr. Fenwick, when he had
summoned several of the machinists whom he employed, to aid himself
and the young inventor.
"It would be better if we could take it outside," suggested Tom,
"yet a crowd is sure to gather, and I don't like to work in a mob of
people."
"Oh, we can easily get around that," said Mr. Fenwick. "I have two
openings to my aeroplane shed. We can take the WHIZZER out of the
rear door, into a field enclosed by a high fence. That is where I
made all my trials, and the crowd couldn't get in, though some boys
did find knot-holes and use them. But I don't mind that. The only
thing that bothers me is that I can't make the WHIZZER go up, and if
it won't go up, it certainly won't sail. That's my difficulty, and I
hope you can remedy it, Tom Swift."
"I'll do the best I can. But let's get the airship outside."
This was soon accomplished, and in the open lot Tom made a thorough
and careful examination of the mechanism. The motor was started, and
the propellers, for there were two, whirled around at rapid speed.
Tom made some tests and calculations, at which he was an expert, and
applied the brake test, to see how much horse power the motor would
deliver.
"I think there is one trouble that we will have to get over," he
finally said to Mr. Fenwick.
"What is that?"
"The motor is not quite powerful enough because of the way in which
you have it geared up. I think by changing some of the cogs, and
getting rid of the off-set shaft, also by increasing the number of
revolutions, and perhaps by using a new style of carburetor, we can
get more speed and power."
"Then we'll do it!" cried Mr. Fenwick, with enthusiasm. "I knew I
hadn't got everything just right. Do you think it will work after
that?"
"Well," remarked Tom, hesitatingly, "I think the arrangement of the
planes will also have to be changed. It will take quite some work,
but perhaps, after a bit, we can get the WHIZZER up in the air."
"Can you begin work at once?" asked the inventor, eagerly.
Tom shook his head.
"I can't stay long enough on this trip," he said. "I promised father
I would be back by to-morrow at the latest, but I will come over
here again, and arrange to stay until I have done all I can. I need
to get some of my special tools, and then, too, you will require
some other supplies, of which I will give you a list. I hope you
don't mind me speaking in this way, Mr. Fenwick, as though I knew
more about it than you do," added Tom, modestly.
"Not a bit of it!" cried the inventor heartily. "I want the benefit
of your advice and experience, and I'll do just as you say. I hope
you can come back soon."
"I'll return the first of the week," promised Tom, "and then we'll
see what can be done. Now I'll go over the whole ship once more, and
see what I need. I also want to test the lifting capacity of your
gas bag."
The rest of the day was a busy one for our hero. With the aid of Mr.
Damon and the owner of the WHIZZER, he went over every point
carefully. Then, as it was too late to attempt the return flight to
Shopton, he telegraphed his father, and he and Mr. Damon remained
over night with Mr. Fenwick.
In the morning, having written out a list of the things that would
be needed, Tom went out to Franklin Field, and repaired his own
monoplane. It was found that one of the electric wires connected
with the motor had broken, thus cutting off the spark. It was soon
repaired, and, in the presence of a large crowd, Tom and Mr. Damon
started on their return flight.
"Do you think you can make the WHIZZER work, Tom?" asked Mr. Damon,
as they were flying high over Philadelphia.
"I'm a little dubious about it," was the reply. "But after I make some
changes I may have a different opinion. The whole affair is too big
and clumsy, that's the trouble; though the electrical part of it is
very good."
Shopton was reached without incident, in about three hours, and
there was no necessity, this time, of vol-planing back to earth.
After a short rest, Tom began getting together a number of special
tools and appliances, which he proposed taking back to Philadelphia
with him.
The young inventor made another trip to Mr. Fenwick's house the
first of the following week. He went by train this time, as he had
to ship his tools, and Mr. Damon did not accompany him. Then, with
the assistance of the inventor of the WHIZZER, and several of his
mechanics, Tom began making the changes on the airship.
"Do you think you can make it fly?" asked Mr. Fenwick, anxiously,
after several days of labor.
"I hope so," replied our hero, and there was more confidence in his
tone than there had been before. As the work progressed, he began to
be more hopeful. "I'll make a trial flight, anyhow, in a few days,"
he added.
"Then I must send word to Mr. Damon," decided Mr. Fenwick. "He wants
to be on hand to see it, and, if possible, go up; so he told me."
"All right," assented Tom. "I only hope it does go up," he
concluded, in a low tone.
CHAPTER VIII
ANDY FOGER'S REVENGE
During the following week, Tom was kept busy over the airship. He
made many important changes, and one of these was to use a new kind
of gas in the balloon bag. He wanted a gas with a greater lifting
power than that of the ordinary illuminating vapor which Mr. Fenwick
had used.
"Well," remarked Tom, as he came from the airship shed one
afternoon, "I think we can give it a try-out, Mr. Fenwick, in a few
days more. I shall have to go back to Shopton to get some articles I
need, and when I come back I will bring Mr. Damon with me, and we
will see what the WHIZZER can do."
"Do you mean we will make a trial flight?"
"Yes."
"For how long a distance?"
"It all depends on how she behaves," answered Tom, with a smile. "If
possible, we'll make a long flight."
"Then I'll tell you what I'm going to do," went on the inventor,
"I'm going to put aboard a stock of provisions, and some other
supplies and stores, in case we are two or three days in the air."
"It might not be a bad plan," agreed Tom, "though I hardly think we
will be gone as long as that."
"Well, being out in the air always makes me hungry," proceeded Mr.
Fenwick, "so I'm going to take plenty of food along."
The time was to come, and that very soon, when this decision of the
inventor of the WHIZZER stood the adventurers in good stead.
Tom returned to Shopton the next day, and sent word to have Mr.
Damon join him in time to go back to the Quaker City two days later.
"But why don't you start right back to Philadelphia to-morrow,"
asked Mr. Swift of his son.
"Because," answered Tom, and that was all the reason he would give,
though had any one seen him reading a certain note a few minutes
before that, which note was awaiting him on his arrival from the
Quaker City, they would not have wondered at his decision.
The note was brief. It merely said:
"Won't you come, and have some apple turnovers? The new cook is a
treasure, and the girls are anxious to meet you."
It was signed: Mary Nestor.
"I think I could enjoy some apple turnovers," remarked Tom, with a
smile.
Having gotten ready the few special appliances he wished to take
back to Philadelphia with him, Tom went, that evening, to call on
Miss Nestor. True to her promise, the girl had a big plate full of
apple turnovers, which she gaily offered our hero on his arrival,
and, on his laughing declination to partake of so many, she ushered
him into a room full of pretty girls, saying:
"They'll help you eat them, Tom. Girls, here is Mr. Swift, who
doesn't mind going up in the air or under the ocean, or even
catching runaway horses," by which last she referred to the time Tom
saved her life, and first made her acquaintance.
As for the young inventor, he gave a gasp, almost as if he had
plunged into a bath of icy water, at the sight of so many pretty
faces staring at him. He said afterward that he would rather have
vol-planed back to earth from a seven-mile height, than again face
such a battery of sparkling eyes.
But our hero soon recovered himself, and entered into the merriment
of the evening, and, before he knew it he was telling Miss Nestor
and her attractive guests something of his exploits.
"But I'm talking altogether too much about myself." he said,
finally. "How is the new cook Miss Nestor; and have you heard from
your father and mother since they sailed on the RESOLUTE for the
West Indies?"
"As to the new cook, she is a jewel of the first water," answered
Miss Nestor. "We all like her, and she is anxious for another ride
in a taxicab, as she calls your auto."
"She shall have it," declared Tom, "for those are the best apple
turnovers I ever ate."
"I'll tell her so," declared Mary. "She'll appreciate it coming from
an inventor of your ability."
"Have you heard from your parents?" asked Tom, anxious to change the
subject.
"Oh, yes. I had a wire to-day. They stopped at St. Augustine to let
me know they were having a glorious time aboard the yacht. Mr.
Hosbrook, the owner, is an ideal host, mamma said. They are
proceeding directly to the West Indies, now. I do hope they will
arrive safely. They say there are bad storms down there at this time
of year."
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