The two chums were busy in the aeroplane hangar a few days after this, nailing up the last of some light cases containing medicines, personal effects and comforts that would accompany them on their trip.
“Well, I’m glad of one thing,” remarked Tom thoughtfully, as he drove home the last nail in a box, “and that is that we won’t be bothered with that Andy Foger on this trip. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him in some time. I guess he and his father are down and out.”
“I guess so. I haven’t seen him either.”
“Massa Andy were in town a few days ago,” ventured Eradicate.
“He was?” cried Tom. “Did you see him? What was he doing, Rad?”
“Nuffin, same as usual. He done say I were too old to go on any more hexpiditions wif yo’ an’ I proved dat I wasn’t.”
“Proved that you weren’t, Rad? How?” And Tom looked anxiously at his colored helper.
“Why, I done say t’ him dat I was gwine wif yo’-all dis time, t’ dat Comeaway country after a big orchard plant. Dat’s how I done prove it to dat Andy Foger.”
“Rad, you didn’t tell him we were going to South America?” asked Tom reproachfully.
“Suah I done so, Massa Tom. Dat were de only way t’ prove t’ him dat I wa’an’t gittin’ too old.”
“Oh, Rad! I’m afraid—” and Tom hesitated.
“Oh, I don’t believe it amounted to anything,” interposed Ned. “Andy didn’t have any one with him, did he, Rad?”
“No, Massa Ned. He were all alone by hisse’f.”
“Then I guess it’s all right, Tom. Andy was only rigging Eradicate, and he didn’t pay any attention to what he said.”
“Well, I hope so,” and the young inventor wore a thoughtful air as he resumed the finish of the packing.
The colored man, blissfully unconscious that he had been the innocent cause of a grave danger that overhung Tom and his friends, whistled gaily as he gathered the boxes, bales and packages into a pile, ready for the expressman, who was to call in the morning.
Tom, together with Ned, Mr. Damon and Eradicate, were to leave the following afternoon, and stay in New York until the sailing of the steamer. They preferred to be a day or so ahead of time than half an hour late, and were taking no chances.
“Bless my timetable!” exclaimed Mr. Damon that night, as they sat in the library of the Swift home, checking over the lists to make sure that nothing had been forgotten, “bless my timetable, but it doesn’t seem possible that we are going to start at last.”
“Yes, we’ll soon be on the way to giant land,” spoke Tom in a low voice. Somehow the young inventor did not seem to be in his usually bright spirits.
“You don’t seem very enthusiastic,” remarked Ned. “What’s the matter, Tom?”
“Oh, nothing much. Though I would feel better if I knew that Andy Foger didn’t have any inkling of what our plans were,” he added, for Eradicate was not present.
“Oh, nonsense!” exclaimed his chum. “Mr. Preston will be here in the morning, and he’ll know whether his rival has any idea of camping on our trail. Cheer up!”
“Yes, I suppose I am foolish to worry,” admitted Tom, “but, somehow I can’t help it. I wish Mr. Preston was here now to tell us that Wayland Waydell had gone off to the centre of Africa for a dwarf. Then I’d know we had nothing to fear. But I guess—”
Tom did not finish his sentence for, at that moment, there came a peal at the door bell. Instinctively every one started, and Mr. Damon exclaimed:
“Bless my burglar alarm! What’s that?”
“Someone at the door, Tom,” replied Mr. Swift calmly. “That’s nothing unusual. It’s early yet.”
But, in spite of his reassuring words, there was a feeling of vague alarm.
“I’ll see who it is,” volunteered Ned. “If it’s Andy Foger—”
Mrs. Baggert entered the room at that moment. She had hurried to the door, and, as she entered she announced:
“Mr. Preston!”
“Yes, it is I!” added the circus man following her quickly into the room. “I came on tonight instead of waiting for the morning, Tom. I have bad news for you!”
“Bad news!” gasped the young inventor. “Has Waydell got hold of your plans.”
“I’ll wager it has something to do with Andy Foger!” exclaimed Ned.
“Neither one,” spoke the circus man. “But I have just had a cable dispatch from one of my animal agents in Brazil, saying that war has broken out among the tribes in the central part of South America. A big native war is being waged all around giant land, as near as we can figure it out.”
“War among the native tribes!” exclaimed Mr. Swift.
“Yes, and one of the worst in years. Of course, Tom, after such alarming news as this I won’t hold you to your promise to go. It’s all off. I’m sorry, but you’d better wait. It won’t be safe to go there now. Better unpack, Tom.”
For a moment there was a silence in the room. Then the young inventor leaped to his feet and faced the circus man.
“Unpack?” cried Tom in ringing tones. “Never! I’m going to giant land, fight or no fight! Ned, come with me and we’ll put in some of my electric rifles. I wasn’t going to take them along, but I will now. Unpack? I guess not! I’m going to get a giant for you, Mr. Preston, and save Jake Poddington if he’s alive. Come on, Ned.”
CHAPTER VII
FIRE ON BOARD
“Your electric rifles!” exclaimed Ned Newton, as he followed his chum to the storeroom, where Tom kept a number of spare guns. “It’s a good thing you thought of them, Tom.”
“Yes, I didn’t think we’d need them, for I believe peaceable means are the best to use on natives. But if there’s a war, and we have to defend ourselves against the tribes, we’ll take along something that will do more damage than an ordinary rifle, and yet I can regulate it so that it will only stun, and not kill.”
“That’s the stuff, Tom. No use in being needlessly cruel. How many will you take?”
“Two or three. We may need ’em all.”
A little later the two lads returned to the library where Mr. Damon, Mr. Swift and the circus man were anxiously awaiting them. Mr. Preston looked curiously at several objects which Tom and Ned carried. The objects looked like guns but were different from any the giant-seeker had seen.
“What are they?” he asked Tom.
“Electric rifles. One of my inventions,” and Tom showed how the weapon worked. Those of you who have read the volume entitled, “Tom Swift and His Electric Rifle” will remember this curious weapon. It was worked by a stored charge of magnetism of the wireless kind. By this a concentrated globule of electricity was projected from the muzzle, and it could be made strong or weak at the will of the marksman. It could be made so powerful that it would totally annihilate a whale, as Tom had once proved, or it could be made so mild that it would put an enemy, or several of them, to sleep almost as gently as some narcotic, and they would awaken after several hours, little the worse for their experience.
A charge of electricity as powerful as five thousand volts could be concentrated into a small wireless globule the size of a bullet, and this would fly through space, or even through solid objects until, reaching the limit of the range set, would strike the object aimed at. With his wonderful electric rifle Tom had not only killed elephants, and other big game, but fought off the red pygmies of Africa.
“And we may have a use for it in South America,” he added as he explained the workings to Mr. Preston.
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t back out,” commented the circus man, “and this may come in mighty handy. I’ll feel easier about you now, Tom, when I know you have some electric rifles with you.”
The circus man was told of what Eradicate had said to Andy, but he was of the opinion that no harm would result from it.
“As far as I can learn,” went on Mr. Preston, “my old rival Waydell has given up the giant idea. He is looking for a two-headed crocodile, said to be somewhere
along the Nile river, and he’s fitting out an expedition there I understand. I guess we won’t be bothered with him. But the giant for mine! If I get that sort of an attraction his two-headed crocodile won’t be in it. I hope you have luck, Tom Swift.”
The last details of the expedition were considered. Nothing seemed to have been left undone, and though carrying the electric rifles would make a little more baggage, no one minded that.
“I kin carry dem,” said Eradicate. “I ain’t got much baggage of mah own.”
So it was arranged, and early the next morning the little band of intrepid travelers, who were going in search of giant land, started for New York. They little knew what was ahead of them, nor what dire perils they were to pass through.
Of course Tom had said good-bye to Mary Nestor and half-jokingly, he had promised to bring back a giant of his own, that she might see one outside of a circus.
“But, Tom,” Mary exclaimed with a laugh, “what will you do with one of the big creatures if you get one?”
“Have him help me on my newest invention—the noiseless airship,” answered the young inventor. “I need some one to lift heavy weights. It will save putting up a derrick. Yes, I think I’ll get a giant of my own.”
The last good-byes were said, and the parting between Tom and his father was affecting.
“I’ll soon be back, dad,” he said in as cheerful a tone as he could assume, “and I’ll help you finish your gyroscope.”
“I hope you will, Tom,” and then, with a pressure of his son’s hand, Mr. Swift turned away and went into the house, closing the door after him.
The first part of the trip to New York was rather a silent one, no one caring to talk much. Eradicate was the only cheerful member of the party, which included the circus man, who was going as far as the steamer with Tom and his friends.
“Say,” Ned exclaimed finally, “any one would think we were going to a funeral!”
“That’s right,” agreed Tom. “I guess something is on all our nerves. Let’s do something to take it off. Here comes a boy with some funny papers. We’ll buy some and read all the jokes.”
This proved a diversion, and before the train had gone many miles more the giant-hunters were talking and laughing as though they were merely starting on a short pleasure trip, instead of an expedition to the dangerous jungles of South America.
They put up at a good hotel in New York, and as soon as they were established Tom and Mr. Preston went to the steamer Calaban which was to land them at Buenos Ayres. They found that there was some confusion about their luggage and boxes, and it took them the better part of a day to get the tangle straightened out, and their stuff stored together in one hold.
“It will be easier to get it out if it’s all together,” said Tom, at the conclusion of their labors, and then he and the circus man returned to the hotel. The ship was to sail two days later, and, several hours before the time set for the departure, Tom and his friends were on board.
“You don’t see anything of your rival circus friend, do you?” asked Tom, of the man who wanted a giant.
“Not a sign,” was the answer, as Mr. Preston glanced over the throng of on-coming passengers. “I guess we’ve either given him the slip, or he’s given up the game. You won’t have to worry about him. Just take it easy until you start for the interior, and from then on you’ll have hard work enough.”
The last of the cargo was being taken aboard, the late passengers had arrived and were anxiously watching to see that their baggage was not lost. As Mr. Preston stood talking with Tom near the gangplank, a clerical looking gentleman approached the circus man.
“I beg your pardon,” he began in mild accents, “but could you tell me where my stateroom is?” and he showed his ticket. “I’m not used to traveling,” he needlessly added for that fact was very evident. Mr. Preston informed him how to get to his berth, and the gentleman went on: “Are you going all the way to Buenos Ayres?”
“No, but my friend is,” and the circus man nodded at Tom.
“Oh, I’m so glad!” the stranger exclaimed. “Then I shall have someone of whom I can ask questions. I am quite lost when I travel.”
“I’ll help you all I can,” volunteered Tom, “and I’ll show you to your stateroom now.”
“Ah, thank you. Your name is—”
“Tom Swift,” supplied the young inventor.
“Ah, yes, I believe I have read about your airships. I am the Reverend Josiah Blinderpool. I am taking a little vacation. I trust we shall become good friends.”
“Humph, he’s a regular infant, to be away from civilization,” mused Tom, when he had showed the clergyman to the proper stateroom. “He’ll get into trouble, he’s so innocent.” If he could have seen that same “clergyman” double up with mirth when he had closed his stateroom door after him, Tom would not have felt so sure about that same “innocence.”
“To think that I was talking face to face with Sam Preston and he never tumbled to who I was!” exclaimed the newcomer softly. “That’s rich! Now if I play my cards right I shouldn’t be surprised but what they’d invite me to come along with them. That would just suit me. I wouldn’t have any trouble then, getting on the track of those giants. The information Waydell got from that red-haired Foger chap wasn’t any too definite,” and once more the man wearing the garb of a minister chuckled.
“Well, I’ll say good-bye,” remarked Mr. Preston, a little later, when the warning bell had rung. “I guess you’ll get along all right. I haven’t seen a sign of Waydell, or any of his slick agents. You’ll have no trouble I guess.”
But if the circus man could have seen the “clergyman” at that same time looking over letters addressed to “Hank Delby,” and signed “Wayland Waydell” he would not have been so confident.
Mr. Preston bade good-bye to his friends, the gangplank was hauled up, and a hoarse blast came from the whistle of the Calaban.
“Bless my pocketbook!” cried Mr. Damon. “We’re off!”
“Yep, off t’ git dat big, giant orchard plant,” chimed in Eradicate.
“Hush!” exclaimed Tom, who did not like the use of the word “giant” even in that connection. “Don’t tell everyone our business, Rad.”
“Dat’s right, Massa Tom. I clean done forgot dat it’s a sort of secret. I’ll keep mighty still ’bout it.”
The Calaban swung out into the river and began steaming down the bay.
The first week of the voyage was uneventful. The weather was exceptionally fine, and hardly any one was seasick. The Reverend Mr. Blinderpool was often on deck, and he made it a point to cultivate the acquaintance of Tom and his friends. In spite of the fact that he said he had traveled very little, he seemed to know much about hidden corners of the world, but always, as on an occasion when he had accidentally let slip some remark that showed he had been in far-off China or Asia, he would suddenly change the conversation when it verged to travel.
“There’s something queer about that minister,” said Ned after one of these occasions, “but I can’t decide what it is.”
“Nonsense!” exclaimed Tom, who rather liked the man.
“No nonsense about it. Why should a minister take a trip like this when he isn’t sick, and when he isn’t going to establish a mission in South America? There’s something queer about it, for, by his own words he just took this voyage as a whim.”
“Oh, you’re too fussy,” declared Tom; and for the time the subject was dropped.
They ran into a storm when about ten days out, and for a while they had a rough time of it, and then the weather cleared again.
It was one evening, after the formal dinner, when Tom and Ned were strolling about on deck, before turning in, that, the quiet of the ship was broken by what is always an alarming cry at sea.
“Fire! Fire!” shouted a man, pointing to a thin wisp of smoke curling up from the deck amidships.
“Keep quiet!” yelled one of the stewards. “It is nothing!”
“It’s a fire,
I tell you!” insisted the man, and several others took up the cry.
A panic was imminent, and the captain came running from his quarters.
“What is it?” he asked.
An officer hurried to his side, and said something but in such a low voice that Tom, who was standing close beside the two, scarcely heard it. But he did hear this:
“There’s a fire, sir, in hold number seventeen. We have turned the hose in there, and the pumps are working.”
“Very good, Mr. Meld. Now try and quiet the passengers. Tell them it doesn’t amount to much, and if it does we can flood that compartment.”
Tom started at that.
“Come on, Ned!” he cried, grabbing his chum by the arm.
“Why, what’s up? What’s the matter?”
“Matter? Matter enough! The fire is in the hold where all our stuff is stored, and if the flames reach that box I packed last—well, I wouldn’t give much for the ship!” and fairly dragging his chum along, Tom raced for the place where the smoke was now coming up in thicker clouds.
CHAPTER VIII
A NARROW ESCAPE
“Here, come back! You can’t go past here!”
“But I’ve got to go! I tell you I must go! It’s important!”
The first speaker was one of the ship’s officers, and the other was Tom Swift, who, accompanied by his chum, was trying to get past a rope that had been hastily stretched in front of the hold where the smoke was rolling up in ever-thickening clouds.
“It’s important that you stay where you are,” insisted the officer. “Look here young man, do you want to start a panic? You know what that is on board ship. Keep cool, we’ll get the fire out all right.”
“I am cool,” responded Tom, and, though he did look a bit excited, he was calm enough to know what he was doing.
“Then keep back!” insisted the officer.
A crowd was gathering and there were ominous whispers sent back and forth. Some hysterical women were beginning to scream, and there were anxious looks on all faces.
“I tell you it’s important that I go down there,” insisted Tom. “I want to get a box—”
The Tom Swift Megapack Page 156
