The Tom Swift Megapack

by Victor Appleton

  “It’s almost perfect,” declared Tom. “A few touches and she’ll be all right.”

  “Is it all right?” asked Ivan Petrofsky anxiously, as the three left the cabin, and Eradicate hitched his mule to the glider to take it back to the shed.

  “I see where it can be improved,” he said, as they made ready to descend. “I’ll soon have it in shape.”

  “Then we can go to Siberia?”

  “In less than a month. The big airship needs some repairs, and then we’ll be off.”

  The Russian said nothing, but he looked his thanks to Tom, and the manner in which he grasped the hand of our hero showed his deep feelings.

  The glider was given several more trials, and each time it worked better. Tom decided to change some of the weights, and he devoted all his time to this alteration, while Ned, Mr. Damon, and the others labored to get the big airship in shape for the long trip to the land of the exiles.

  So anxious was Tom to get started, that he put in several nights working on the glider. Ned occasionally came over to help him, while Mr. Damon was on hand as often as his wife would allow. Mr. Petrofsky spent his nights writing to friends in Russia, hoping to get some clue as to the whereabouts of his brother.

  It was on one of these nights, when Tom and Ned were laboring hard, with Eradicate to help them that an incident occurred which worried them all not a little. Tom was adjusting some of the new weights on the sliding rods, and called to Ned:

  “I say, old man, hand me that big monkey wrench, will you. I can’t loosen this nut with the small one. You’ll find it on the bench by that back window.”

  As Ned went to get the tool he looked from the casement. He started, stood staring through the glass for a moment into the outer darkness, and then cried out:

  “Tom, we’re being watched! There are some spies outside!”

  “What?” exclaimed the young inventor “Where are they? Who are they?”

  “I don’t know. Those Russian police, maybe out front, and maybe we can catch them!”

  Grabbing up the big monkey wrench, Ned made a dash for the large sliding doors, followed by Tom who had an iron bar, and Eradicate with a small pair of pliers.

  “By golly!” cried the colored man, “ef I gits ’em I’ll pinch dere noses off!”

  CHAPTER X

  OFF IN THE AIRSHIP

  Going from the brightly lighted shop into the darkness of the night, illuminated as it was only by the stars, neither Tom, Ned, nor Eradicate, could see anything at first. They had to stand still for a moment to accustom their eyes to the gloom.

  “Can you see them?” cried Tom to his chum.

  “No, but I can hear them! Over this way!” yelled Ned, and then, being able to dimly make out objects, so he would not run into them, he started off, followed by the young inventor.

  Tom could hear several persons running away now, but he could see no one, and from the sound he judged that the spies, if such they were, were hurrying across the fields that surrounded the shop.

  It was almost a hopeless task to pursue them, but the two lads were not the kind that give up. They rushed forward, hoping to be able to grapple with those who had looked in the shop window, but it was not to be.

  The sound of the retreating footsteps became more and more faint, until finally they gave no clue to follow.

  “Better stop,” advised Tom. “No telling where we’ll end up if we keep on running. Besides it might be dangerous.”

  “Dangerous; how?” panted Ned.

  “They might dodge around, and wait for us behind some tree or bush.”

  “An’ ef dat Foger feller am around he jest as soon as not fetch one ob us a whack in de head,” commented Eradicate grimly.

  “Guess you’re about right,” admitted Ned. “There isn’t much use keeping on. We’ll go back.”

  “What sort of fellows were they?” asked Tom, when, after a little further search, the hunt was given up. “Could you see them well, Ned?”

  “Not very good. Just as I went to get you that wrench I noticed two faces looking in the window. I must have taken them by surprise, for they dodged down in an instant. Then I yelled, and they ran off.”

  “Did you see Andy Foger?”

  “No, I didn’t notice him.”

  “Was either of them one of the spies who had Mr. Petrofsky in the hut?”

  “I didn’t see those fellows very well, you remember, so I couldn’t say.”

  “That’s so, but I’ll bet that’s who they were.”

  “What do you think they’re after, Tom?”

  “One of two things. They either want to get our Russian friend into their clutches again, or they’re after me—to try to stop me from going to Siberia.”

  “Do you think they’d go to such length as that?”

  “I’m almost sure they would. Those Russian police are wrong, of course, but they think Mr. Petrofsky is an Anarchist or something like that, and they think they’re justified in doing anything to get him back to the Siberian mines. And once the Russian government sets out to do a thing it generally does it—I’ll give ’em credit for that.”

  “But how do you suppose they know you’re going to Russia?”

  “Say, those fellows have ways of getting information you and I would never dream of. Why, didn’t you read the other day how some fellow who was supposed to be one of the worst Anarchists ever, high up in making bombs, plotting, and all that sort of thing—turned out to be a police spy? They get their information that way. I shouldn’t be surprised but what some of the very people whom Mr. Petrofsky thinks are his friends are spies, and they send word to headquarters of every move he makes.”

  “Why don’t you warn him?”

  “He knows it as well as I do. The trouble is you can’t tell who the spies are until it’s too late. I’m glad I’m not mixed up in that sort of thing. If I can get to Siberia, help Mr. Petrofsky rescue his brother, and get hold of some of that platinum I’ll be satisfied. Then I won’t go back to the land of the Czar, once I get away from there.”

  “That’s right. Well, let’s go back and work on the glider.”

  “And we’ll have Eradicate patrolling about the shop to make sure we’re not spied on again.”

  “By golly! Ef I sees any oh ’em, I suah will pinch ’em!” cried the colored man, as he clicked the pliers.

  But there was no further disturbance that night, and, when Tom and Ned ceased work, they had made good progress toward finishing the air glider.

  The big airship was almost ready to be given a trial flight, with her motors tuned up to give more power, and as soon as the Russian exile had a little more definite information as to the possible whereabouts of his brother, they could start.

  In the days that followed Tom and his friends worked hard. The air glider was made as nearly perfect as any machine is, and in a fairly stiff gale, that blew up about a week later, Tom did some things in it that made his friends open their eyes. The young inventor had it under nearly as good control as he had his dirigible balloons or aeroplanes.

  The big airship, too, was made ready for the long voyage, extra large storage tanks for gasolene being built in, as it was doubtful if they could get a supply in Siberia without arranging for it in advance, and this they did not want to do. Besides there was the long ocean flight to provide for.

  “But if worst comes to worst I can burn kerosene in my motor,” Tom explained, for he had perfected an attachment to this end. “You can get kerosene almost anywhere in Russia.”

  At last word was received from Russia, from some Revolutionist friends of the exile, stating that his brother was supposed to be working in a certain sulphur mine north of the Iablonnoi mountains, and half way between that range and the city of Iakutsk.

  “But it might be a salt mine, just as well,” said Mr. Petrofsky, when he told the boys the news. “Information about the poor exiles is hard to get.”

  “Well, we’ll take a chance!” cried Tom determinedly.

  Th
e preparations went on, and by strict watchfulness none of the spies secured admission to the shop where the air glider was being finished. The big airship was gotten in shape for the voyage, and then, after a final trial of the glider, it was taken apart and put aboard the Falcon, ready for use on the gale-swept plains of Siberia.

  The last of the stores, provisions and supplies were put in the big car of the airship, a route had been carefully mapped out, and Tom, after saying good-bye to Mary Nestor, his father, the housekeeper, and Eradicate, took his place in the pilot house of the airship one pleasant morning at the beginning of Summer.

  “Don’t you wish you were going, Rad?” the young inventor asked, for the colored man had decided to stay at home.

  “No indeedy, Massa Tom,” was the answer. “Dat’s a mighty cold country in Shebeara, an’ I laik warm wedder.”

  “Well, take care of yourself and Boomerang,” answered Tom with a laugh. Then he pulled the lever that sent a supply of gas into the big bag, and the ship began to rise.

  “I guess we’ve given those spies the slip,” remarked Ned, as they rose from the ground calling good-byes to the friends they left behind.

  “I hope so,” agreed Tom, but could he have seen two men, of sinister looks, peering at the slowly-moving airship from the shelter of a glove of trees, not far off, he might have changed his opinion, and so would Ned.

  Then, as the airship gathered momentum, it fairly sprang into the air, and a moment later, the big propellers began revolving. They were off on their long voyage to find the lost platinum mine, and rescue the exile of Siberia.

  CHAPTER XI

  A STORM AT SEA

  Tom had the choice of two routes in making his voyage to far-off Siberia. He could have crossed the United States, sailed over the Pacific ocean, and approached the land of the Czar from the western coast above Manchuria. But he preferred to take the Atlantic route, crossing Europe, and so sailing over Russia proper to get to his destination. There were several reasons for this.

  The water voyage was somewhat shorter, and this was an important consideration when there was no telling when he might have an accident that would compel him to descend. On the Atlantic he knew there would be more ships to render assistance if it was needed, although he hoped he would not have to ask for it.

  “Then, too,” he said to Ned, when they were discussing the matter, “we will have a chance to see some civilized countries if we cross Europe, and we may land near Paris.”

  “Paris!” cried Ned. “What for?”

  “To renew our supply of gasolene, for one thing,” replied the young inventor. “Not that we will be out when we arrive, but if we take on more there we may not have to get any in Russia. Besides, they have a very good quality in France, so all told, I think the route over Europe to be the best.”

  Ned agreed with him, and so did Mr. Petrofsky. As for Mr. Damon, he was so busy getting his sleeping room in order, and blessing everything he could think of, that he did not have time to talk much. So the eastern route was decided on, and as the big airship, carrying our friends, their supplies, and the wonderful air glider rose higher and higher, Tom gradually brought her around so that the pointed nose of the gas bag aimed straight across the Atlantic.

  They were over the ocean on the second day out, for Tom did not push the craft to her limit of speed, now they had time to consider matters at their leisure, for they had been rather hurried on leaving.

  The machinery was working as nearly to perfection as it could be brought, and Tom, after finding out that his craft would answer equally well as a dirigible balloon or an aeroplane, let it sail along as the latter.

  “For,” he said, “we have a long trip ahead of us and we need to save all the elevating gas we can save. If worst comes to worst, and we can’t navigate as an aeroplane any more, we can even drift along as a dirigible. But while we have the gasolene we might as well make speed and be an aeroplane.”

  The others agreed with him, and so it was arranged. Tom, when he had seen to it that his craft was working well, let Ned take charge and devoted himself to seeing that all the stores and supplies were in order for quick use.

  Of course, until they were nearer the land of the Czar, and that part of Siberia where Mr. Petrofsky’s brother was held as an exile, they could do little save make themselves as comfortable as possible in the airship. And this was not hard to do.

  Naturally, in a craft that had to carry a heavy load, and lift itself into the air, as well as propel itself along, not many things could be taken. Every ounce counted. Still our friends were not without their comforts. There was a well stocked kitchen, and Mr. Damon insisted on installing himself as cook. This had been Eradicate’s work but the eccentric man knew how to do almost everything from making soup to roasting a chicken, and he liked it. So he was allowed free run of the galley.

  Tom and Ned spent much time in the steering tower or engine room, for, though all of the machinery was automatic, there was need of almost constant attention, though there was an arrangement whereby in case of emergency, the airship would steer herself in any set direction for a certain number of hours.

  There were ample sleeping quarters for six persons, a living room and a dining saloon. In short the Falcon was much like Tom’s Red Cloud, only bigger and better. There was even a phonograph on board so that music, songs, and recitations could be enjoyed.

  “Bless my napkin! but this is great!” exclaimed Mr. Damon, about noon of the second day, when they had just finished dinner and looked down through the glass windows in the bottom of the cabin at the rolling ocean below them. “I don’t believe many persons have such opportunities as we have.”

  “I’m sure they do not,” added Mr. Petrofsky. “I can hardly think it true, that I am on my way back to Siberia to rescue my dear brother.”

  “And such good weather as we’re having,” spoke Ned. “I’m glad we didn’t start off in a storm, for I don’t exactly like them when we’re over the water.”

  “We may get one yet,” said Tom. “I don’t just like the way the barometer is acting. It’s falling pretty fast.”

  “Bless my mercury tube!” cried Mr. Damon. “I hope we have no bad luck on this trip.”

  “Oh, we can’t help a storm or two,” answered Tom. “I guess it won’t do any harm to prepare for it.”

  So everything was made snug, and movable articles on the small exposed deck of the airship were lashed fast. Then, as night settled down, our friends gathered about in the cheerful cabin, in the light of the electric lamps, and talked of what lay before them.

  As Mr. Damon could steer as well as Tom or Ned, he shared in the night watch. But Mr. Petrofsky was not expert enough to accept this responsibility.

  It was when Mr. Damon finished his watch at midnight, and called Tom, that he remarked.

  “Bless my umbrella, Tom. But I don’t like the looks of the weather.”

  “Why, what’s it doing?”

  “It isn’t doing anything, but it’s clouding up and the barometer is going down.”

  “I was afraid we were in for it,” answered the young inventor. “Well, we’ll have to take what comes.”

  The airship plunged on her way, while her young pilot looked at the various gages, noting that to hold her way against the wind that had risen he would have to increase the speed of the motor.

  “I don’t like it,” murmured Tom, “I don’t like it,” and he shook his head dubiously.

  With a suddenness that was almost terrifying, the storm broke over the ocean about three o’clock that morning. There was a terrific clap of thunder, a flash of lighting, and a deluge of rain that fairly made the staunch Falcon stagger, high in the air as she was.

  “Come on, Ned!” cried Tom, as he pressed the electric alarm bell connected with his chum’s berth. “I need you, and Mr. Damon, too.”

  “What’s the matter?” cried Ned, awakened suddenly from a sound sleep.

  “We’re in a bad storm,” answered Tom, “and I’ll have t
o have help. We need more gas, to try and rise above it.”

  “Bless my hanging lamp!” cried Mr. Damon, “I hope nothing happens!”

  And he jumped from his berth as the Falcon plunged and staggered through the storm that was lashing the ocean below her into white billow of foam.

  CHAPTER XII

  AN ACCIDENT

  For a few moments it seemed as if the Falcon would surely turn turtle and plunge into the seething ocean. The storm had burst with such suddenness that Tom, who was piloting his air craft, was taken unawares. He had not been using much power or the airship would have been better able to weather the blast that burst with such fury over her. But as it was, merely drifting along, she was almost like a great sheet of paper. Down she was forced, until the high-flying spray from the waves actually wet the lower part of the car, and Ned, looking through one of the glass windows, saw, in the darkness, the phosphorescent gleam of the water so near to them.

  “Tom!” he cried in alarm. “We’re sinking!”

  “Bless my bath sponge! Don’t say that!” gasped Mr. Damon.

  “That’s why I called you,” yelled the young inventor. “We’ve got to rise above the storm if possible. Go to the gas machine, Ned, and turn it on full strength. I’ll speed up the motor, and we may be able to cut up that way. But get the gas on as soon as you can. The bag is only about half full. Force in all you can!

  “Mr. Damon, can you take the wheel? It doesn’t make any difference which way we go as long as you keep her before the wind, and yank back the elevating rudder as far as she’ll go! We must head up.”

  “All right, Tom,” answered the eccentric man, as he fairly jumped to take the place of the young inventor at the helm.

  “Can I do anything?” asked the Russian, as Tom raced for the engine room, to speed the motor up to the last notch.

  “I guess not. Everything is covered, unless you want to help Mr. Damon. In this blow it will be hard to work the rudder levers.”