The Tom Swift Megapack

by Victor Appleton

  “Bless my socks, Tom!” cried the short, stout man. “There sure is trouble!”

  “I should say So, Massa Tom!” added the colored man. “I done did prognosticate dat some day de combustible material of which dat shed am composed would conflaggrate—”

  “What’s the matter?” interrupted Tom, jumping forward. “Speak out! Eradicate! Mr. Damon, what is it?”

  “The red shed!” cried the short little man. “The red shed, Tom!”

  “It’s on fire!” yelled the colored man.

  “Great thunderclaps!” cried Tom. “Come on—everybody on the job!” he yelled. “Koku, pull the alarm! If that red shed goes—”

  Instantly the place was in confusion. Tom and Ned, looking from a window of the hangar, saw a billow of black smoke roll across the yard. But already the private fire bell was clanging out its warning. And, while the work of fighting the flames is under way, I will halt the progress of this story long enough to give my new readers a little idea of who Tom Swift is, so they may read this book more intelligently. Those of you who have perused the previous volumes may skip this part.

  Tom Swift, though rather young in years, was an inventor of note. His tastes and talents were developed along the line of machinery and locomotion. Motorcycles, automobiles, motorboats, submarine craft, and, latest of all, craft of the air, had occupied the attention of Tom Swift and his father for some years.

  Mr. Swift was a widower, and lived with Tom, his only son, in the village of Shopton, New York State. Mrs. Baggert kept house for them, and an aged colored man, Eradicate Sampson, with his mule, Boomerang, did “odd jobs” about the Shopton home and factories.

  Among Tom’s friends was a Mr. Wakefield Damon, from a nearby village. Mr. Damon was always blessing something, from his hat to his shoes, a harmless sort of habit that seemed to afford him much comfort. Then there was Ned Newton, a boyhood chum of Tom’s, who worked in the Shopton bank. I will just mention Mary Nestor, a young lady of Shopton, in whom Tom was more than ordinarily interested. I have spoken of Koku, the giant. He really was a giant of a man, of enormous strength, and was one of two whom Tom had brought with him from a strange land where Tom was held captive for a time. You may read about it in a book devoted to those adventures.

  Tom took Koku into his service, somewhat to the dismay of Eradicate, who was desperately jealous. But poor Eradicate was getting old, and could not do as much as he thought he could. So, in a great measure, Koku replaced him, and Tom found much use for the giant’s strength.

  Tom had begun his inventive work when, some years before this story opens, he had bargained for Mr. Damon’s motorcycle, after that machine had shot its owner into a tree. Mr. Damon was, naturally, perhaps, much disgusted, and sold the affair cheap. Tom repaired it, made some improvements, and, in the first volume of this series, entitled “Tom Swift and His Motor-cycle,” you may read of his rather thrilling adventures on his speedy road-steed.

  From then on Tom had passed a busy life, making many machines and having some thrilling times with them. Just previous to the opening of this story Tom had made a peculiar instrument, described in the volume entitled “Tom Swift and His Photo-Telephone.” With that a person talking could not only see the features of the person with whom he was conversing, but, by means of a selenium plate and a sort of camera, a permanent picture could be taken of the person at either end of the wire.

  By means of this invention Tom had been able to make a picture that had saved a fortune. But Tom did not stop there. With him to invent was as natural and necessary as breathing. He simply could not stop it. And so we find him now about to show to his chum, Ned Newton, his latest patent, an aerial warship, which, however, was not the success Tom had hoped for.

  But just at present other matters than the warship were in Tom’s mind. The red shed was on fire.

  That mere statement might not mean anything special to the ordinary person, but to Tom, his father, and those who knew about his shops, it meant much.

  “The red shed!” Tom cried. “We mustn’t let that get the best of us! Everybody at work! Father, not you, though. You mustn’t excite yourself!”

  Even in the midst of the alarm Tom thought of his father, for the aged man had a weak heart, and had on one occasion nearly expired, being saved just in time by the arrival of a doctor, whom Tom brought to the scene after a wonderful race through the air.

  “But, Tom, I can help,” objected the aged inventor.

  “Now, you just take care of yourself, Father!” Tom cried. “There are enough of us to look after this fire, I think.”

  “But, Tom, it—it’s the red shed!” gasped Mr. Swift.

  “I realize that, Dad. But it can’t have much of a start yet. Is the alarm ringing, Koku?”

  “Yes, Master,” replied the giant, in correct but stilted English. “I have set the indicator to signal the alarm in every shop on the premises.”

  “That’s right.” Tom sprang toward the door. “Eradicate!” he called.

  “Yais, sah! Heah I is!” answered the colored man. “I’ll go git mah mule, Boomerang, right away, an’ he—”

  “Don’t you bring Boomerang on the scene!” Tom yelled. “When I want that shed kicked apart I can do it better than by using a mule’s heels. And you know you can’t do a thing with Boomerang when he sees fire.”

  “Now dat’s so, Massa Tom. But I could put blinkers on him, an’—”

  “No, you let Boomerang stay where he is. Come on, Ned. We’ll see what we can do. Mr. Damon—”

  “Yes, Tom, I’m right here,” answered the peculiar man, for he had come over from his home in Waterford to pay a visit to his friends, Tom and Mr. Swift. “I’ll do anything I can to help you, Tom, bless my necktie!” he went on. “Only say the word!”

  “We’ve got to get some of the stuff out of the place!” Tom cried. “We may be able to save it, but I can’t take a chance on putting out the fire and letting some of the things in there go up in smoke. Come on!”

  Those in the shed where was housed what Tom hoped would prove to be a successful aerial warship rushed to the open. From the other shops and buildings nearby were pouring men and boys, for the Swift plant employed a number of hands now.

  Above the shouts and yells, above the crackle of flames, could be heard the clanging of the alarm bell, set ringing by Koku, who had pulled the signal in the airship shed. From there it had gone to every building in the plant, being relayed by the telephone operator, whose duty it was to look after that.

  “My, you’ve got a big enough fire-fighting force, Tom!” cried Ned in his chum’s ear.

  “Yes, I guess we can master it, if it hasn’t gotten the best of us. Say, it’s going some, though!”

  Tom pointed to where a shed, painted red—a sign of danger—could be seen partly enveloped in smoke, amid the black clouds of which shot out red tongues of flame.

  “What have you got it painted red for?” Ned asked pantingly, as they ran on.

  “Because—” Tom began, but the rest of the sentence was lost in a yell.

  Tom had caught sight of Eradicate and the giant, Koku, unreeling from a central standpipe a long line of hose.

  “Don’t take that!” Tom cried. “Don’t use that hose! Drop it!”

  “What’s the matter? Is it rotten?” Ned wanted to know.

  “No, but if they pull it out the water will be turned on automatically.”

  “Well, isn’t that what you want at a fire—water?” Ned demanded.

  “Not at this fire,” was Tom’s answer. “There’s a lot of calcium carbide in that red shed—that’s why it’s red—to warn the men of danger. You know what happens when water gets on carbide—there’s an explosion, and there’s enough carbide in that shed to send the whole works sky high.

  “Drop that hose!” yelled Tom in louder tones. “Drop it, Rad—Koku! Do you want to kill us all!”

  CHAPTER III

  A DESPERATE BATTLE

  Tom’s tones and voice were so insistent t
hat the giant and the colored man had no choice but to obey. They dropped the hose which, half unreeled, lay like some twisted snake in the grass. Had it been pulled out all the way the water would have spurted from the nozzle, for it was of the automatic variety, with which Tom had equipped all his plant.

  “But what are you going to do, Tom, if you don’t use water?” asked Ned, wonderingly.

  “I don’t know—yet, but I know water is the worst thing you can put on carbide,” returned Tom. For all he spoke Slowly his brain was working fast. Already, even now, he was planning how best to give battle to the flames.

  It needed but an instant’s thought on the part of Ned to make him understand that Tom was right. It would be well-nigh fatal to use water on carbide. Those of you who have bicycle lanterns, in which that not very pleasant-smelling chemical is used, know that if a few drops of water are allowed to drip slowly on the gray crystals acetylene gas is generated, which makes a brilliant light. But, if the water drips too fast, the gas is generated too quickly, and an explosion results. In lamps, of course, and in lighting plants where carbide is used, there are automatic arrangements to prevent the water flowing too freely to the chemical. But Tom knew if the hose were turned on the fire in the red shed a great explosion would result, for some of the tins of carbide would be melted by the heat.

  Yet the fire needed to be coped with. Already the flames were coming through the roof, and the windows and door were spouting red fire and volumes of smoke.

  Several other employees of Tom’s plant had made ready to unreel more hose, but the warning of the young inventor, shouted to Eradicate and Koku, had had its effect. Every man dropped the line he had begun to unreel.

  “Ha! Massa Tom say drop de hose, but how yo’ gwine t’ squirt watah on a fire wifout a hose; answer me dat?” and Eradicate looked at Koku.

  “Me no know,” was the slow answer. “I guess Koku go pull shed down and stamp out fire.”

  “Huh! Maybe yo’ could do dat in cannibal land, where yo’ all come from,” spoke Eradicate, “but yo’ can’t do dat heah! ’Sides, de red shed will blow up soon. Dere’s suffin’ else in dere except carbide, an’ dat’s gwine t’ go up soon, dat’s suah!”

  “Maybe you get your strong man-mule, Boomerang,” suggested Koku. “Nothing ever hurt him—explosion or nothing. He can kick shed all to pieces, and put out fire.”

  “Dat’s what I wanted t’ do, but Massa Tom say I cain’t,” explained the colored man. “Golly! Look at dat fire!”

  Indeed the blaze was now assuming alarming proportions. The red shed, which was not a small structure, was blazing on all sides. About it stood the men from the various shops.

  “Tom, you must do something,” said Mr. Swift. “If the flames once reach that helmanite—”

  “I know, Father. But that explosive is in double vacuum containers, and it will be safe for some time yet. Besides, it’s in the cellar. It’s the carbide I’m most worried about. We daren’t use water.”

  “But something will have to be done!” exclaimed Mr. Damon. “Bless my red necktie, if we don’t—”

  “Better get back a way,” suggested Tom. “Something may go off!”

  His words of warning had their effect, and the whole circle moved back several paces.

  “Is there anything of value in the shed?” asked Ned.

  “I should say there was!” Tom answered. “I hoped we could get some of them out, but we can’t now—until the fire dies down a bit, at any rate.”

  “Look, Tom! The pattern shop roof is catching!” shouted Mr. Swift, pointing to where a little spurt of flame showed on the roof of a distant building.

  “It’s from sparks!” Tom said.

  “Any danger of using water there?” Ned wanted to know.

  “No, use all you like! That’s the only thing to do. Come on, you with the hose!” Tom yelled. “Save the other buildings!”

  “But are you going to let the red shed burn?” asked Mr. Swift. “You know what it means, Tom.”

  “Yes, Father, I know. And I’m going to fight that fire in a new way. But we must save the other buildings, too. Play water on all the other sheds and structures!” ordered the young inventor. “I’ll tackle this one myself. Oh, Ned!” he called.

  “Yes,” answered his chum. “What is it?”

  “You take charge of protecting the place where the new aerial warship is stored. Will you? I can’t afford to lose that.”

  “I’ll look after it, Tom. No harm in using water there, though; is there?”

  “Not if you don’t use too much. Some of the woodwork isn’t varnished yet, and I wouldn’t want it to be wet. But do the best you can. Take Koku and Eradicate with you. They can’t do any good here.”

  “Do you mean to say you’re going to give up and let this burn?”

  “Not a bit of it, Ned. But I have another plan I want to try. Lively now! The wind’s changing, and it’s blowing over toward my aerial warship shed. If that catches—”

  Tom shook his head protestingly, and Ned set off on the run, calling to the colored man and the giant to get out another line of hose.

  “I wonder what Tom is going to do?” mused Ned, as he neared the big shed he and the others had left on the alarm of fire.

  Tom, himself, seemed in no doubt as to his procedure With one look at the blazing red shed, as if to form an opinion as to how much longer it could burn without getting entirely beyond control, Tom set off on a run toward another large structure. Ned, glancing toward his chum, observed:

  “The dirigible shed! I wonder what his game is? Surely that can’t be in danger—it’s too far off!”

  Ned was right as to the last statement. The shed, where was housed a great dirigible balloon Tom had made, but which he seldom used of late, was sufficiently removed from the zone of fire to be out of danger.

  Meanwhile several members of the fire-fighting force that had been summoned from the various shops by the alarm, had made an effort to save from the red shed some of the more valuable of the contents. There were some machines in there, as well as explosives and chemicals, in addition to the store of carbide.

  But the fire was now too hot to enable much to be done in the way of salvage. One or two small things were carried out from a little addition to the main structure, and then the rescuers were driven back by the heat of the flames, as well as by the rolling clouds of black smoke.

  “Keep away!” warned Mr. Swift. “It will explode soon. Keep back!”

  “That’s right!” added Mr. Damon. “Bless my powder-horn! We may all be going sky-high soon, and without aid from any of Tom Swift’s aeroplanes, either.”

  Warned by the aged inventor, the throng of men began slowly moving away from the immediate neighborhood of the blazing shed. Though it may seem to the reader that some time has elapsed since the first sounding of the alarm, all that I have set down took place in a very short period—hardly three minutes elapsing since Tom and the others came rushing out of the aerial warship building.

  Suddenly a cry arose from the crowd of men near the red shed. Ned, who stood ready with several lines of hose, in charge of Koku, Eradicate and others, to turn them on the airship shed, in case of need, looked in the direction of the excited throng.

  The young bank clerk saw a strange sight. From the top of the dirigible balloon shed a long, black, cigar-shaped body arose, floating gradually upward. The very roof of the shed slid back out of the way, as Tom pressed the operating lever, and the dirigible was free to rise—as free as though it had been in an open field.

  “He’s going up!” cried Ned in surprise. “Making an ascent at a time like this, when he ought to stay here to fight the fire! What’s gotten into Tom, I’d like to know? I wonder if he can be—”

  Ned did not finish his half-formed sentence. A dreadful thought came into his mind. What if the sudden fire, and the threatened danger, as well as the prospective loss that confronted Tom, had affected his mind?

  “It certainly looks so,” mused Ned,
as he saw the big balloon float free from the shed. There was no doubt but that Tom was in it. He could be seen standing within the pilot-house, operating the various wheels and levers that controlled the ship of the air.

  “What can he be up to?” marveled Ned. “Is he going to run away from the fire?”

  Koku, Eradicate and several others were attracted by the sight of the great dirigible, now a considerable distance up in the air. Certainly it looked as though Tom Swift were running away. Yet Ned knew his chum better than that.

  Then, as they watched, Ned and the others saw the direction of the balloon change. She turned around in response to the influence of the rudders and propellers, and was headed straight for the blazing shed, but some distance above it.

  “What can he be planning?” wondered Ned.

  He did not have long to wait to find out.

  An instant later Tom’s plan was made clear to his chum. He saw Tom circling over the burning red shed, and then the bank clerk saw what looked like fine rain dropping from the lower part of the balloon straight into the flames.

  “He can’t be dousing water on from up above there,” reasoned Ned. “Pouring water on carbide from a height is just as bad as spurting it on from a hose, though perhaps not so dangerous to the persons doing it. But it can’t be—”

  “By Jove!” suddenly exclaimed Ned, as he had a better view of what was going on. “It’s sand, that’s what it is! Tom is giving battle to the flames with sand from the ballast bags of the dirigible! Hurray? That’s the ticket! Sand! The only thing safe to use in case of an explosive chemical fire.

  “Fine for you. Tom Swift! Fine!”

  CHAPTER IV

  SUSPICIONS

  High up aloft, over the blazing red shed, with its dangerous contents that any moment might explode, Tom Swift continued to hold his big dirigible balloon as near the flames as possible. And as he stood outside on the small deck in front of the pilot-house, where were located the various controls, the young inventor pulled the levers that emptied bag after bag of fine sand on the spouting flames that, already, were beginning to die down as a result of this effectual quenching.