Mr. Berg came to the point at once.
“Mr. Swift,” he said, “I wish you would reconsider your determination not to enter the Government trials. I’d like to see you compete. So would my firm.”
“There is no use going over that again,” replied the aged inventor. “I have another object in view now than trying for the Government prize. What it is I can’t say, but it may develop in time—if we are successful,” and he looked at his son, smiling the while.
Mr. Berg tried to argue, but it was of no avail Then he changed his manner, and said:
“Well, since you won’t, you won’t, I suppose. I’ll go back and report to my firm. Have you anything special to do this morning?” he went on to Tom.
“Well, I can always find something to keep me busy,” replied the lad, “but as for anything special—”
“I thought perhaps you’d like to go for a trip in my auto,” interrupted Mr. Berg. “I had asked a young man who is stopping at the same hotel where I am to accompany me, but he has unexpectedly left, and I don’t like to go alone. His name was—let me see. I have a wretched memory for names, but it was something like Roger or Moger.”
“Foger!” cried Tom. “Was it Andy Foger?”
“Yes, that was it. Why, do you know him?” asked Mr. Berg in some surprise.
“I should say so,” replied Tom. “He was the cause of what might have resulted in something serious for me,” and the lad explained about being imprisoned in the tank.
“You don’t tell me!” cried Mr. Berg. “I had no idea he was that kind of a lad. You see, his father is one of the directors of the firm by whom I am employed. Andy came from home to spend a few weeks at the seaside, and stopped at the same hotel that I did. He went off yesterday afternoon, and I haven’t seen him since, though he promised to go for a ride with me. He must have come over here and entered your shop unobserved. I remember now he asked me where the submarine was being built that was going to compete with our firm’s, and I told him. I didn’t think he was that kind of a lad. Well, since he’s probably gone back home, perhaps you will come for a ride with me, Tom.”
“I’m afraid I can’t go, thank you,” answered the lad. “We are very busy getting our submarine in shape for a trial. But I can imagine why Andy left so hurriedly. He probably learned that a doctor had been summoned for me, though, as it happened, I didn’t need one. But Andy probably got frightened at what he had done, and left. I’ll make him more sorry, when I meet him.”
“Don’t blame you a bit,” commented Mr. Berg. “Well, I must be getting back.”
He hastened out to his auto, while Tom and his father watched the agent.
“Tom, never trust that man,” advised the aged inventor solemnly.
“Just what I was about to remark,” said his son. “Well, let’s get back to work. Queer that he should come here again, and it’s queer about Andy Foger.”
Father and son returned to the machine shop, while Mr. Berg puffed away in his auto. A little later, Tom having occasion to go to a building near the boundary line of the cottage property which his father had hired for the season, saw, through the hedge that bordered it, an automobile standing in the road. A second glance showed him that it was Mr. Berg’s machine. Something had gone wrong with it, and the agent had alighted to make an adjustment.
The young inventor was close to the man, though the latter was unaware of his presence.
“Hang it all!” Tom heard Mr. Berg exclaim to himself. “I wonder what they can be up to? They won’t enter the Government contests, and they won’t say why. I believe they’re up to some game, and I’ve got to find out what it is. I wonder if I couldn’t use this Foger chap?”
“He seems to have it in for this Tom Swift,” Mr. Berg went on, still talking to himself, though not so low but that Tom could hear him. “I think I’ll try it. I’ll get Andy Foger to sneak around and find out what the game is. He’ll do it, I know.”
By this time the auto was in working order again, and the agent took his seat and started off.
“So that’s how matters lie, eh?” thought Tom. “Well, Mr. Berg, we’ll be doubly on the lookout for you after this. As for Andy Foger, I think I’ll make him wish he’d never locked me in that tank. So you expect to find out our ‘game,’ eh, Mr. Berg? Well, when you do know it, I think it will astonish you. I only hope you don’t learn what it is until we get at that sunken treasure, though.”
But alas for Tom’s hopes. Mr. Berg did learn of the object of the treasure-seekers, and sought to defeat them, as we shall learn as our story proceeds.
CHAPTER SIX
TURNING THE TABLES
When the young inventor informed his father what he had overheard Mr. Berg saying, the aged inventor was not as much worried as his son anticipated.
“All we’ll have to do, Tom,” he said, “is to keep quiet about where we are going. Once we have the Advance afloat, and try her out, we can start on our voyage for the South American Coast and search for the sunken treasure. When we begin our voyage under water I defy any one to tell where we are going, or what our plans are. No, I don’t believe we need worry about Mr. Berg, though he probably means mischief.”
“Well, I’m going to keep my eyes open for him and Andy Foger,” declared Tom.
The days that followed were filled with work. Not only were there many unexpected things to do about the submarine, but Mr. Sharp was kept busy making inquiries about the sunken treasure ship. These inquiries had to be made carefully, as the adventurers did not want their plans talked of, and nothing circulates more quickly than rumors of an expedition after treasure of any kind.
“What about the old sea captain you were going to get to go with us?” asked Mr. Swift of the balloonist one afternoon. “Have you succeeded in finding one yet?”
“Yes; I am in communication with a man think will be just the person for us. His name is Captain Alden Weston, and he has sailed all over the world. He has also taken part in more than one revolution, and, in fact, is a soldier of fortune. I do not know him personally, but a friend of mine knows him, and says he will serve us faithfully. I have written to him, and he will he here in a few days.”
“That’s good. Now about the location of the wreck itself. Have you been able to learn any more details?”
“Well, not many. You see, the Boldero was abandoned in a storm, and the captain did not take very careful observations. As nearly as it can be figured out the treasure ship went to the bottom in latitude forty-five degrees south, and longitude twenty-seven east from Washington. That’s a pretty indefinite location, but I hope, once we get off the Uruguay coast, we can better it. We can anchor or lay outside the harbor, and in the small boat we carry go ashore and possibly gain more details. For it was at Montevideo that the shipwrecked passengers and sailors landed.”
“Does Captain Weston know our object?” inquired Tom.
“No, and I don’t propose to tell him until we are ready to start,” replied Mr. Sharp. “I don’t know just how he’ll consider a submarine trip after treasure, but if I spring it on him suddenly he’s less likely to back out. Oh, I think he’ll go.”
Somewhat unexpectedly the next day it was discovered that certain tools and appliances were needed for the submarine, and they had been left in the house at Shopton, where Eradicate Sampson was in charge as caretaker during the absence of Mr. Swift and his son and the housekeeper.
“Well, I suppose we’ll have to go back after them,” remarked Tom. “We’ll take the airship, dad, and make a two-days’ trip of it. Is there anything else you want?”
“Well, you might bring a bundle of papers you’ll find in the lower right hand drawer of my desk. They contain some memoranda I need.”
Tom and Mr. Sharp had become so used to traveling in the airship that it seemed no novelty to them, though they attracted much attention wherever they went. They soon had the Red Cloud in readiness for a flight, and rising in the air above the shop that contained the powerful submarine, a craft ut
terly different in type from the aeroplane, the nose of the airship was pointed toward Shopton.
They made a good flight and landed near the big shed where the bird of the air was kept. It was early evening when they got to the Swift homestead, and Eradicate Sampson was glad to see them.
Eradicate was a good cook, and soon had a meal ready for the travelers. Then, while Mr. Sharp selected the tools and other things needed, and put them in the airship ready for the start back the next morning, Tom concluded he would take a stroll into Shopton, to see if he could see his friend, Ned Newton. It was early evening, and the close of a beautiful day, a sharp shower in the morning having cooled the air.
Tom was greeted by a number of acquaintances as he strolled along, for, since the episode of the bank robbery, when he had so unexpectedly returned with the thieves and the cash, the lad was better known than ever.
“I guess Ned must be home” thought our hero as he looked in vain for his chum among the throng on the streets. “I’ve got time to take a stroll down to his house.”
Tom was about to cross the street when he was startled by the sound of an automobile horn loudly blown just at his side. Then a voice called:
“Hey, there! Git out of the way if you don’t want to be run over!”
He looked up, and saw a car careening along. At the wheel was the red-haired bully, Andy Foger, and in the tonneau were Sam Snedecker and Pete Bailey.
“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 sub marine had been, but be 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.
CHAPTER SEVEN
MR. DAMON WILL GO
“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 tomorrow,” 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 motor-cycle, 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.
The Tom Swift Megapack Page 42
