The Tom Swift Megapack

by Victor Appleton

  “He’s blowing hard!” exclaimed one of the sailors. “I guess he’s about done for!”

  “Which one?” asked Tom.

  “The whale,” was the reply. “The killer has the best of the big fellow,” and the sailor quickly explained how the smaller killer fish, by the peculiarity of its attack, and its great ferocity, often bested its larger antagonist.

  The battle was now at its height, and Tom and the others were interested spectators. At times neither of the big creatures could be seen, because of the smother of foam in which they rolled and threshed about. The whale endeavored to sound, or go to the bottom, but the killer stuck to him relentlessly.

  Suddenly, however, as Tom looked, the whale, by a stroke of his broad tail, momentarily stunned his antagonist. Instantly realizing that he was free the great creature, which was about ninety feet long, darted away, swimming on the surface of the water, for he needed to get all the air possible.

  Quickly acquiring momentum, the whale came on like a locomotive, spouting at intervals, the vapor from the blowholes looking not unlike steam from some submarine boat.

  “He looks to be heading this way,” remarked Mr. Durban to Tom.

  “He is,” agreed the young inventor, “but I guess he’ll dive before he gets here. He only wants to get away from the killer. Look, the other one is swimming this way, too!”

  “Bless my harpoon, but he sure is!” called Mr. Damon. “They’ll renew the fight near here.”

  But he was mistaken, for the killer, after coming a little distance after the whale, suddenly turned, hesitated for a moment, and then disappeared in the depths of the ocean.

  The whale, however, continued to come on, speeding through the water with powerful strokes. There was an uneasy movement among some of the passengers.

  “Suppose he strikes the ship,” suggested one woman.

  “Nonsense! He couldn’t,” said her husband.

  “The old man had better get under way, just the same,” remarked a sailor near Tom, as he looked up at the bridge where the captain was standing.

  The “old man,” or commander, evidently thought the same thing, for, after a glance at the oncoming leviathan, which was still headed directly for the vessel, he shoved the lever of the telegraph signal over to “full speed ahead.”

  Hardly had he done so than the whale sank from sight.

  “Oh, I’m so glad!” exclaimed the woman who had first spoken of the possibility of the whale hitting the ship, “I am afraid of those terrible creatures.”

  “They’re as harmless as a cow, unless they get angry,” said her husband.

  Slowly the great ship began to move through the water. Tom and his friends were about to go back to their cabin, for they thought the excitement over, when, as the young inventor turned from the rail, he felt a vibration throughout the whole length of the steamer, as if it had hit on a sand-bar.

  Instantly there was a jangling of bells in the engine room, and the Soudalar lost headway.

  “What’s the matter?” asked several persons.

  They were answered a moment later, for the big whale, even though grievously wounded in his fight with the killer, had risen not a hundred feet away from the ship, and was coming toward it with the speed of an express train.

  “Bless my blubber!” cried Mr. Damon. “We must have hit the whale, or it hit us under the water and now it’s going to attack us!”

  He had no more than gotten the words out of his mouth ere the great creature of the deep came on full tilt at the vessel, struck it a terrific blow which made it tremble from stem to stern, and careen violently.

  There was a chorus of frightened cries, sailors rushed to and fro, the engine-room bells rang violently, and the captain and mates shouted hoarse orders.

  “Here he comes again!” yelled Mr. Durban, as he hurried to the side of the ship. “The whale takes us for an enemy, I guess, and he’s going to ram us again!”

  “And if he does it many times, he’ll start the plates and cause a leak that won’t be stopped in a hurry!” cried a sailor as he rushed past Tom.

  The young inventor looked at the oncoming monster for a moment, and then started on the run for his cabin.

  “Here! Where are you going?” cried Mr. Damon, but Tom did not answer.

  CHAPTER X

  OFF IN THE AIRSHIP

  As Tom Swift hurried down the companionway he again felt the ship careen as the whale struck it a powerful blow, and he was almost knocked off his feet. But he kept on.

  Below he found some frightened men and women, a number of whom were adjusting life preservers about them, under the impression that the ship had struck a rock and was going down. They had not been up on deck, and did not know of the battle between the killer and the whale, nor what followed.

  “Oh, I know we’re sinking!” cried one timid woman. “What has happened?” she appealed to Tom.

  “It will be all right in a little while,” he assured her.

  “But what is it? I want to know. Have we had a collision.”

  “Yes, with a whale,” replied Tom, as he grabbed up something from his stateroom, and again rushed up on deck. As he reached it the whale came on once more, and struck the ship another terrific blow. Then the monster sank and could be seen swimming back, just under the surface of the water, getting ready to renew the attack.

  “He’s going to ram us again!” cried Mr. Damon. “Bless my machine oil! Why doesn’t the captain do something?”

  At that moment the commander cried from the bridge:

  “Send a man below, Mr. Laster, to see if we are making any water. Then tell half a dozen of the sailors to get out the rifles, and see if they can’t kill the beast. He’ll put us in Davy Jones’s locker if he keeps this up! Lively now, men!”

  The first mate, Mr. Laster, called out the order. A sailor went below to see if the ship was leaking much, and the captain rang for full speed ahead. But the Soudalar was slow in getting under way again, and, even at top speed she was no match for the whale, which was again rushing toward the vessel.

  “Quick with those rifles!” cried the captain. “Fire a volley into the beast!”

  “There’s no need!” suddenly called Mr. Damon, who had caught sight of Tom Swift, and the object which the lad carried.

  “No need?” demanded the commander. “Why, has the whale sunk, or made off?”

  “No,” answered the eccentric man, “the whale is still coming on, but Tom Swift will fix him. Get there, Tom, and let him have a good one!”

  “What sort of a gun is that?” demanded the commander as the young inventor took his place at the rail, which was now almost deserted.

  Tom did not answer. Bracing himself against the rolling and heaving of the vessel, which was now under about half speed, Tom aimed his electric rifle at the oncoming leviathan. He looked at the automatic gage, noted the distance and waiting a moment until the crest of a wave in front of the whale had subsided, he pressed the button.

  If those watching him expected to hear a loud report, and see a flash of flame, they were disappointed. There was absolutely no sound, but what happened to the whale was most surprising.

  The great animal stopped short amid a swirl of foam, and the next instant it seemed to disintegrate. It went all to pieces, just as had the dummy figure which Tom on one occasion fired at with his rifle and as had the big packing-cases. The whale appeared to dissolve, as does a lump of sugar in a cup of hot tea, and, five seconds after Tom Swift had fired his electric gun, there was not a sign of the monster save a little blood on the calm sea.

  “What—what happened?” asked the captain in bewilderment. “Is—is that monster gone?”

  “Completely gone!” cried Mr. Damon. “Bless my powder horn, Tom, but I knew you could do it!”

  “Is that a new kind of whale gun, firing an explosive bullet?” inquired the commander, as he came down off the bridge and shook hands with Tom. “If it is, I’d like to buy one. We may be rammed again by another whale.” />
  “This is my new, electric rifle,” explained the young inventor modestly, “and it fires wireless charges of electricity instead of bullets. I’m sorry I can’t let you have it, as it’s the only one I have. But I guess no more whales will ram us. That one was evidently crazed by the attack of the killer, and doubtless took us for another of its enemies.”

  Sailors and passengers crowded around Tom, eager to shake his hand, and to hear about the gun. Many declared that he had saved the ship.

  This was hardly true, for the whale could not have kept up its attacks much longer. Still he might have done serious damage, by causing a leak, and, while the Soudalar was a stanch craft, with many water-tight compartments, still no captain likes to be a week from land with a bad leak, especially if a storm comes up. Then, too, there was the danger of a panic among the passengers, had the attacks been kept up, so, though Tom wanted to make light of his feat, the others would not let him.

  “You’re entitled to the thanks of all on board,” declared Captain Wendon, “and I’ll see that the owners hear of what you did. Well, I guess we can go on, now. I’ll not stop again to see a fight between a killer and a whale.”

  The steamer resumed her way at full speed, and the sailor, who had gone below, came up to report that there was only a slight leak, which need not cause any uneasiness.

  Little was talked of for the next few days but the killing of the whale, and Tom had to give several exhibitions of his electric rifle, and explain its workings. Then, too, the story of his expedition became known, and also the object of Mr. Anderson’s quest, and Tom’s offer of aid to help rescue the missionaries, so that, altogether, our hero was made much of during the remainder of the voyage.

  “Well, if your gun will do that to a whale, what will it do to an elephant?” asked Mr. Durban one morning, when they were within a day’s steaming of their port. “I’m afraid it’s almost too strong, Tom. It will leave nothing—not even the tusks to pick up.”

  “Oh, I can regulate the power,” declared the lad. “I used full force on the whale, just to see what it would do. It was the first tine I’d tried it on anything alive. I can so regulate the charge that it will kill even an elephant, and leave scarcely a mark on the beast.”

  “I’d like to see it done,” remarked the old hunter.

  “I’ll show you, if we sight any sharks,” promised Tom. He was able to keep his word for that afternoon a school of the ugly fish followed the steamer for the sake of the food scraps thrown overboard. Tom took his position in the stern, and gave an exhibition of shooting with his electric gun that satisfied even Mr. Durban, exacting as he was.

  For the lad, by using his heaviest charges, destroyed the largest sharks so that they seemed to instantly disappear in the water, and from that he toned down the current until he could kill some of the monsters so easily and quickly that they seemed to float motionless on the surface, yet there was no life left in them once the electric charge touched them.

  “We’ll use the light charges when we’re killing elephants for their tusks,” said Tom, “and the heavy ones when we’re in danger from a rush of the beasts.”

  He little knew how soon he would have to put his plan into effect.

  They arrived safely at Majumba, the African coast city, and for two days Tom was kept busy superintending the unloading of the parts of his airship. But it was safely taken ashore, and he and his friends hired a disused warehouse in which to work at reassembling the Black Hawk.

  Tom had everything down to a system, and, in less than a week the aircraft was once more ready to be sent aloft. It was given a try- out, much to the astonishment of the natives, and worked perfectly. Then Tom and his friends busied themselves laying in a stock of provisions and stores for the trip into the interior.

  They made inquiries about the chances of getting ivory and were told that they were good if they went far enough into the jungle and forests, for the big beasts had penetrated farther and farther inland.

  They also tried to get some news regarding the captive missionaries, but were unsuccessful nor could they learn what had become of Tomba, who had brought the dire news to civilization.

  “It’s too soon to hope for anything yet,” said Mr. Anderson. “Wait until we get near the country of the red pygmies.”

  “And then it may be too late,” said Tom in a low voice.

  It was two weeks after their arrival in Majumba that Tom announced that all was in readiness. The airship was in perfect working order, it was well stocked with food, arms, articles and trinkets with which to trade among the natives, spare parts for the machinery, special tools and a good supply of the chemicals needed to manufacture the lifting gas.

  Of course Tom did not leave behind his electric weapon and Mr. Durban and the others took plenty of ammunition for the ordinary rifles which they carried.

  One morning, after cabling to his father that they were about to start, Tom gave a last careful look to his airship, tested the motor and dynamos, took a hasty survey of the storeroom, to see that nothing had been forgotten, and gave the word to get aboard.

  They took their places in the cabin. Outside a crowd of natives, and white traders of many nationalities had gathered. Tom pulled the starting lever. The Black Hawk shot across a specially prepared starting ground, and, attaining sufficient momentum, suddenly arose into the air.

  There was a cheer from the watching crowd, and several superstitious blacks, who saw the airship for the first time, ran away in terror.

  Up into the blue atmosphere Tom took his craft. He looked down on the city over which he was flying. Then he pointed the prow of the Black Hawk toward the heart of the dark continent.

  “Off for the interior!” he murmured. “I wonder if we’ll ever get out again?”

  No one could answer. They had to take their chances with the dangers and terrors of elephant land, and with the red pygmies. Yet Tom Swift was not afraid.

  CHAPTER XI

  ANCHORED TO EARTH

  With the voyage on the steamer, their arrival in Africa, the many strange sights of the city of Majumba, and the refitting of the airship, our friends had hardly had time to catch their breath since Tom Swift’s determination to go elephant hunting. Now, as the Black Hawk was speeding into the interior, they felt, for the first time in many weeks, that they “could take it easy,” as Ned Newton expressed it.

  “Thank goodness,” said the bank clerk, “I can sit down and look at something for a while,” and he gazed out of the main cabin windows down at the wild country over which they were then flying.

  For, so swiftly had the airship moved that it was hardly any time at all before it had left Majumba far behind, and was scudding over the wilderness.

  “Bless my camera,” exclaimed Mr. Damon, who had brought along one of the picture machines, “bless my camera! I don’t call that much to look at,” and he pointed to the almost impenetrable forest over which they then were.

  “No, it isn’t much of a view,” said the old elephant hunter, “but wait. You’ll soon see all you want to. Africa isn’t all like this. There are many strange sights before us yet. But, Tom Swift, tell us how the airship is working in this climate. Do you find any difficulty managing it?”

  “Not at all,” answered Tom, who was in the cabin then, having set the automatic steering apparatus in the pilot house, and come back to join the others. “It works as well as it did in good old York State. Of course I can’t tell what affect the continual hot and moist air will have on the gas bag, but I guess we’ll make out all right.”

  “I certainly hope so,” put in Mr. Anderson. “It would be too bad to be wrecked in the middle of Africa, with no way to get out.”

  “Oh, you needn’t worry about that,” said Ned with a laugh. “If the airship should smash, Tom would build another out of what was left, and we’d sail away as good as before.”

  “Hardly that,” answered the young inventor.

  “But we won’t cross a bridge until we hear it coming, as E
radicate would say. Hello, that looks like some sort of native village.”

  He pointed ahead to a little clearing in the forest, where a number of mud and grass huts were scattered about. As they came nearer they could see the black savages, naked save for a loin cloth, running about in great excitement, and pointing upward.

  “Yes, that’s one of the numerous small native villages we’ll see from now on,” said Mr. Durban. “Many a night have I spent in those same grass huts after a day’s hunting. Sometimes, I’ve been comfortable, and again not. I guess we’ve given those fellows a scare.”

  It did seem so, for by this time the whole population, including women and children, were running about like mad. Suddenly, from below there sounded a deep booming noise, which came plainly to the ears of the elephant hunters through the opened windows of the airship cabin.

  “Hark! What’s that?” cried Tom, raising his hand for silence.

  “Bless my umbrella! it sounds like thunder,” said Mr. Damon.

  “No, it’s one of their war drums,” explained Mr. Durban. “The natives make large ones out of hollow trees, with animal skins stretched over the ends, and they beat them to sound a warning, or before going into battle. It makes a great noise.”

  “Do you think they want to fight us?” asked Ned, looking anxiously at Tom, and then toward where his rifle stood in a corner of the cabin.

  “No, probably that drum was beaten by some of the native priests,” explained the hunter. “The natives are very superstitious, and likely they took us for an evil spirit, and wanted to drive us away.”

  “Then we’ll hustle along out of their sight,” said Tom, as he went to the pilot house to increase the speed of the airship, for he had been letting it drift along slowly to enable the adventurers to view the country over which they were passing. A few minutes later, under the increased force of the machinery, the Black Hawk left the native village, and the crowd of frightened blacks, far behind.