“Listen to that, will you, Snuffin!” he cried. “Listen to that! He says he blew his whistle to tell us he was going to turn in.”
“That’s what I did!” said Tom, calmly.
“Preposterous! Did you hear it, Snuffin?” puffed the important man.
“Yes—yes, I think I did, sir,” answered the machinist, in a hesitating voice.
“You did? What! You mean to tell me you heard their whistle?”
“Yes—yes, sir!”
“Why—why—er—I—” the big man puffed and blew, but seemed to find no words in which to express himself. “Snuffin, I’ll have a talk with you when we get home,” he finally said, most significantly. “The idea of saying you heard a whistle blown! There was nothing of the kind! I shall make a complaint against these land-lubbers myself. Do you know who they are, Snuffin?”
“Yes—yes, sir,” was the answer, as the man glanced at Tom. “At least I know one of them, sir.”
“Very good. Give me his name. I’ll attend to the rest.”
Tom looked at the big man sharply. He had never seen him before, as far as he could recall. As for the machinist, the young inventor had a dim recollection that once the man might have worked in his shop.
“Go ahead, Snuffin!” said the big man, mopping his face with a large silk handkerchief, which, even at that distance, gave out a powerful perfume. “Go ahead, Snuffin, and we will settle this matter later,” and, adjusting a large rose in his buttonhole, the self-important individual took his place on the cushioned seat at the wheel, while the big red motor boat drew off down the river.
“Well, of all the nerve!” gasped Ned. “Isn’t he the limit?”
“Never mind,” spoke Tom, with a little laugh. “I’m sorry I lost my temper, and even bothered to answer him. We’ll let the lawyers do the rest of the talking. Take the wheel, Ned.”
“But are you going to let him get away like this, Tom? Without asking him to pay for the damage to your boat, when he was clearly in the wrong?”
“Oh, I’ll ask him to pay all right; but I’ll do it the proper way. Now come on. If we stay here chinning much longer the Kilo will go down. I must find out who he is. I think I know Snuffin—he used to work for me, I now recall.”
“Don’t you know who that big man is?” asked Ned, as he took the wheel, while Tom again started the motor. The water was now almost up to the lower rim of the fly wheel.
“No; who is he?” asked Tom.
“Shallock Peters.”
“Well, I know as much as I did before,” laughed Tom. “That doesn’t tell me anything.”
“Why, I thought everybody in the town knew Shallock Peters,” went on Ned. “He tried to do some business with our bank, but was turned down. I hear he’s gone to the other one, though. He’s what we call a get-rich-quick schemer, Tom—a promoter.”
“I thought he acted like that sort of a character.”
“Well, that’s what he is. He’s got half a dozen schemes under way, and he hasn’t been in town over a month. I wonder you haven’t seen or heard of him.”
“I’ve been too busy over my photo telephone.”
“I suppose so. Well, this fellow Peters struck Shopton about a month ago. He bought the old Wardell homestead, and began to show off at once. He’s got two autos, and this big motor boat. He always goes around with a silk hat and a flower in his buttonhole. A big bluff—that’s what he is.”
“He acted so to me,” was Tom’s comment. “Well, he isn’t going to scare me. The idea! Why, he seemed to think we were in the wrong; whereas he was, and his man knew it, too.”
“Yes, but the poor fellow was afraid to say so. I felt sorry for him.”
“So did I,” added Tom. “Well, Kilo is out of commission for the present. Guess we’ll have to finish our outing by walking, Ned.”
“Oh, I don’t mind. But it makes me mad to have a fellow act the way he did.”
“Well, there’s no good in getting mad,” was Tom’s smiling rejoinder. “We’ll take it out of him legally. That’s the best way in the end. But I can’t help saying I don’t like Mr. Shallock Peters.”
“And I don’t either,” added Ned.
CHAPTER VI
A WARNING
“There, she’s about right now, Ned. Hold her there!”
“Aye, aye, Captain Tom!”
“Jove, she’s leaking like a sieve! We only got her here just in time!”
“That’s right,” agreed Ned.
Tom and his chum had managed to get the Kilo to Ramsey’s dock, and over the ways of the inclined marine railway that led from the shop on shore down into the river. Then, poling the craft along, until she was in the “cradle,” Ned held her there while Tom went on shore to wind up the windlass that pulled the car, containing the boat, up the incline.
“I’ll give you a hand, as soon as I find she sets level,” called Ned, from his place in the boat.
“All right—don’t worry. There are good gears on this windlass, and she works easy,” replied Tom.
In a short time the boat was out of the water, but, as Tom grimly remarked, “the water was not out of her,” for a stream poured from the stuffing-box, through which the propeller shaft entered, and water also ran out through the seams that had been opened by the collision.
“Quite a smash, Tom,” observed the boat repairer, when he had come out to look over the Kilo. “How’d it happen?”
“Oh, Shallock Peters, with his big red boat, ran into us!” said Ned, sharply.
“Ha, Peters; eh?” exclaimed the boatman. “That’s the second craft he’s damaged inside a week with his speed mania. There’s Bert Johnson’s little speeder over there,” and he pointed to one over which some men were working. “Had to put a whole new stern in her, and what do you think that man Peters did?”
“What?” asked Tom, as he bent down to see how much damage his craft had sustained.
“He wouldn’t pay young Johnson a cent of money for the repairs,” went on Mr. Houston, the boatman. “It was all Peters’s fault, too.”
“Couldn’t he make him pay?” asked Tom.
“Well, young Johnson asked for it—no more than right, too; but Peters only sneered and laughed at him.”
“Why didn’t he sue?” asked Ned.
“Costs too much money to hire lawyers, I reckon. So he played you the same trick; eh. Tom?”
“Pretty much, yes. But he won’t get off so easily, I can tell you that!” and there was a grim and determined look on the face of the young inventor. “How long will it take to fix my boat, Mr. Houston?”
“Nigh onto two weeks, Tom. I’m terrible rushed now.”
Tom whistled ruefully.
“I could do it myself quicker, if I could get her back to my shop,” he said. “But she’d sink on the home trip. All right, do the best you can, Mr. Houston.”
“I will that, Tom.”
The two chums walked out of the boat-repair place.
“What are you going to do, Tom?” asked Ned, as they strolled along.
“Well, since we can’t go motor boating, I guess I may as well go back and see if that new supply of selenium has come. I do want to get my photo telephone working, Ned.”
“And that’s all the outing you’re going to take—less than an hour!” exclaimed Ned, reproachfully.
“Oh, well, all you wanted to do was to get me out of a rut, as you called it,” laughed Tom. “And you’ve done it—you and Mr. Peters together. It jolted up my brain, and I guess I can think better now. Come on back and watch me tinker away, Ned.”
“Not much! I’m going to stay out and get some fresh air while I can. You’d better, too.”
“I will, later.”
So Tom turned back to his workshop, and Ned strolled on into the country, for his day’s work at the bank was over. And for some time after that—until far into the night—Tom Swift worked at the knotty problem of the photo telephone.
But the young inventor was baffled. Try as he might, he c
ould not get the image to show on the metal plate, nor could he get any results by using a regular photographic plate, and developing it afterward.
“There is something wrong with the transmission of the light waves over the wire,” Tom confessed to his father.
“You’ll never do it, Tom,” said the aged inventor. “You are only wasting a whole lot of time.”
“Well, as I haven’t anything else to do now, it isn’t much loss,” spoke Tom, ruefully. “But I’m going to make this work, Dad!”
“All right, son. It’s up to you. Only I tell you it can’t be done.”
Tom, himself, was almost ready to admit this, when, a week later, he seemed to be no nearer a solution of the problem than he was at first. He had tried everything he could think of, and he had Eradicate and Koku, the giant, almost distracted, by making them stay in small telephone booths for hours at a time, while the young inventor tried to get some reflection of one face or the other to come over the wire.
Koku finally got so nervous over the matter, that he flatly refused to “pose” any longer, so Tom was forced to use Eradicate. As for that elderly man of all work, after many trials, all unsuccessful, he remarked:
“Massa Tom, I reckon I knows what’s wrong.”
“Yes, Rad? Well, what is it?”
“Mah face am too black—dat’s de trouble. You done want a white-complected gen’man to stand in dat booth an’ look at dat lookin’ glass plate. I’se too black! I suah is!”
“No, that isn’t it, Rad,” laughed Tom, hopelessly. “If the thing works at all it will send a black man’s face over the wire as well as a white man’s. I guess the truth of it is that you’re like Koku. You’re getting tired. I don’t know as I blame you. I’m getting a bit weary myself. I’m going to take a rest. I’ll send for another kind of selenium crystals I’ve heard of, and we’ll try them. In the meanwhile—I’ll take a little vacation.”
“Get out my small airship, Rad, and I’ll take a little flight.”
“Dat’s de way to talk, Massa Tom,” was the glad rejoinder.
“I’m going over to see Mr. Damon, Father,” announced Tom to Mr. Swift a little later, when his speedy monoplane was waiting for him. “I haven’t seen him in some time, and I’d like to get at the truth of what Mr. Halling said about Mr. Damon’s fortune being in danger. I’ll be back soon.”
“All right, Tom. And say—”
“Yes, Dad, what is it?” asked Tom, as he paused in the act of getting in the seat.
“If he wants any ready cash, you know we’ve got plenty.”
“Oh, sure. I was going to tell him we’d help him out.”
Then, as Koku spun the propeller blades, Tom grasped the steering wheel, and, tilting the elevating rudder, he was soon soaring into the air, he and his craft becoming smaller and smaller as they were lost to sight in the distance, while the rattle and roar of the powerful motor became fainter.
In a comparatively short time Tom had made a successful landing in the big yard in front of Mr. Damon’s house, and, walking up the path, kept a lookout for his friend.
“I wonder why he didn’t come out to meet me?” mused Tom, for usually when the eccentric man heard the throbbing of Tom’s motor, he was out waiting for the young inventor. But this time it was not the case.
“Is Mr. Damon in?” Tom asked of the maid who answered his ring.
“Yes, Mr. Swift. You’ll find him in the library,” and she ushered him in.
“Oh, hello, Tom,” greeted Mr. Damon, but the tone was so listless, and his friend’s manner so gloomy that the young inventor was quite embarrassed.
“Have a chair,” went on Mr. Damon. “I’ll talk to you in a minute, Tom. I’ve got to finish this letter, and it’s a hard one to write, let me tell you.”
Now Tom was more astonished than ever. Not once had Mr. Damon “blessed,” anything, and when this did not happen Tom was sure something was wrong. He waited until his friend had sealed the letter, and turned to him with a sigh. Then Tom said boldly:
“Mr. Damon, is it true that you’re having hard luck—in money matters?”
“Why, yes, Tom, I’m afraid I am,” was the quick answer. “But who told you?”
“Grant Halling. He was over to get me to fix his airship,” and Tom briefly related what had happened.
“Oh, yes, I did mention the matter to him,” went on Mr. Damon, and his tone was still listless. “So he told you; did he? Well, matters aren’t any better, Tom. In fact, they’re worse. I just had to write to a man who was asking for help, and I had to refuse him, though he needs it very much. The truth is I hadn’t the money. Tom, I’m afraid I’m going to be a very poor man soon.”
“Impossible, Mr. Damon! Why, I thought your investments—”
“I’ve made some bad ones of late, Tom. I’ve been pretty foolish, I’m afraid. I drew out some money I had in government bonds, and invested in certain stocks sold by a Mr. Shallock Peters.”
“Shallock Peters!” cried Tom, almost jumping out of his chair. “Why, I know him—I mean I’ve met him.”
“Have you, Tom? Well, then, all I’ve got to say is to steer clear of him, my boy. Don’t have anything to do with him,” and, with something of a return of his usual energy Mr. Damon banged his fist down on his desk. “Give him a wide berth, Tom, and if you see him coming, turn your back. He’d talk a miser into giving him his last cent. Keep away from Shallock Peters, Tom. Bless my necktie, he’s a scoundrel, that’s what he is!” and again Mr. Damon banged his desk forcibly.
CHAPTER VII
SOFT WORDS
“Well, I’m glad of one thing!” exclaimed Tom, when the ink bottle and the paper cutter on Mr. Damon’s desk had ceased rattling, because of the violence of the blow. “I’m glad of one thing.”
“What’s that, Tom?” asked his friend.
“I heard you bless something at last—the first time since I came in.”
“Oh!” and Mr. Damon laughed. “Well, Tom, I haven’t been blessing things lately—that’s a fact. I haven’t had the heart for it. There are too many business complications. I wish I’d never met this Peters.”
“So do I,” said Tom. “My motor boat would not have been damaged then.”
“Did he do that, Tom?”
“He certainly did, and then he accused me of being at fault.”
“That would be just like him. Tell me about it, Tom.”
When the young inventor finished the story of the collision Mr. Damon sat silent for a moment. Then he remarked slowly:
“That’s just like Peters. A big bluff—that’s what he is. I wish I’d discovered that fact sooner—I’d be money in pocket. But I allowed myself to be deceived by his talk about big profits. At first he seemed like a smart business man, and he certainly had fine recommendations. But I am inclined to believe, now, that the recommendations were forged.”
“What did he do to you, Mr. Damon?” asked Tom, with ready sympathy.
“It’s too complicated to go into details over, Tom, but to make a long story short, he got me to invest nearly all my fortune in some enterprises that, I fear, are doomed to failure. And if they do fail, I’ll be a ruined man.”
“No, you won’t!” exclaimed Tom. “That’s one reason why I came here today. Father told me to offer you all the ready money you needed to get out of your trouble. How much do you need, Mr. Damon?”
“Bless my collar button! That’s like your father, Tom,” and now Mr. Damon seemed more like his old self. “Bless my shoes, a man never knows who his real friends are until trouble comes. I can’t say how I thank you and your father, Tom. But I’m not going to take advantage of him.”
“It wouldn’t be taking any advantage of him, Mr. Damon. He has money lying idle, and he’d like to have you use it.”
“Well, Tom, I might use it, if I had only myself to think about. But there’s no use in throwing good money after bad. If I took yours now this fellow Peters would only get it, and that would be the last of it.”
&n
bsp; “No, Tom, thank you and your father just the same, but I’ll try to weather the storm a bit longer myself. Then, if I do go down I won’t drag anybody else with me. I’ll hang on to the wreck a bit longer. The storm may blow over, or—or something may happen to this fellow Peters.”
“Has he really got you in his grip, Mr. Damon?”
“He has, and, to a certain extent, it’s my own fault. I should have been suspicious of him. And now, Tom, let me give you a further word of warning. You heard me say to steer clear of this Peters?”
“Yes, and I’m going to. But I’m going to make him pay for damaging my boat, if I possibly can.”
“Maybe it would be wiser not to try that, Tom. I tell you he’s a tricky man. And one thing more. I have heard that this man Peters makes a specialty of organizing companies to take up new inventions.”
“Is that so?” asked Tom, interestedly.
“Yes, but that’s as far as it goes. Peters gets the invention, and the man, out of whose brain it came, gets nothing.”
“In other words, he swindles them?”
“That’s it, Tom. If not in one way, then in another. He cheats them out of the profits of their inventions. So I want to warn you to be on the lookout.”
“Don’t worry,” said Tom. “Peters will get nothing from my father or me. We’ll be on our guard. Not that I think he will try it, but it’s just as well to be warned. I didn’t like him from the moment he ran into me, and, now that I know what he has done to you, I like him still less. He won’t get anything from me!”
“I’m glad to hear you say so, Tom. I wish he’d gotten nothing out of me.”
“Are you sure you won’t let my father help you, financially, Mr. Damon?”
“No, Tom, at least not for the present. I’m going to make another fight to hold on to my fortune. If I find I can’t do it alone, then I’ll call on you. I’m real glad you called. Bless my shoestring! I feel better now.”
“I’m glad of it,” laughed Tom, and he saw that his friend was in a better state of mind, as his “blessings” showed.
Tom remained for a little longer, talking to Mr. Damon, and then took his leave, flying back home in the airship.
The Tom Swift Megapack Page 207
