The Tom Swift Megapack

by Victor Appleton

  The guns there were made double, with the extra barrel filled with water or sand, that could be shot out as was the regular charge. As both barrels were fired at the same time, and in opposite directions, with the same amount of powder, one neutralized the other, and the recoil was canceled, the ship remaining steady after fire.

  “By Jove! I believe that will do the trick!” cried Tom. “I’m going to try it.”

  “Good luck to you!” cried Ned.

  It was no easy matter to change all the guns of the Mars, and fit them with double barrels. But by working day and night shifts Tom managed it. Meanwhile, a careful watch was kept over the shops. Several new men applied for work, and some of them were suspicious enough in looks, but Tom took on no new hands.

  Finally the new guns were made, and tried with the Mars held on the ground. They behaved perfectly, the shooting of sand or water from the dummy barrel neutralizing the shot from the service barrel.

  “And now to see how it works in practice!” cried Tom one day. “Are you with me for a long flight, Ned?”

  “I sure am!”

  The next evening the Mars, with a larger crew than before, and with Tom, Ned, Mr. Damon and Lieutenant Marbury aboard, set sail.

  “But why start at night?” asked Ned.

  “You’ll see in the morning,” Tom answered.

  The Mars flew slowly all night, life aboard her, at about the level of the clouds, going on almost as naturally as though the occupants of the cabins were on the earth. Excellent meals were served.

  “But when are you going to try the guns?” asked Ned, as he got ready to turn in.

  “Tell you in the morning,” replied Tom, with a smile.

  And, in the morning, when Ned looked down through the plate glass in the cabin floor, he uttered a cry.

  “Why, Tom! We’re over the ocean!” he cried.

  “I rather thought we’d be,” was the calm reply. “I told George to head straight for the Atlantic. Now we’ll have a test with service charges and projectiles!”

  CHAPTER XVIII

  IN A STORM

  Surprise, for the moment, held Mr. Damon, Ned and Lieutenant Marbury speechless. They looked from the heaving waters of the ocean below them to the young pilot of the Mars. He smiled at their astonishment.

  “What—what does it mean, Tom?” asked Ned. “You never said you were going to take a trip as far as this.”

  “That’s right,” chimed in Mr. Damon. “Bless my nightcap! If I had known I was going to be brought so far away from home I’d never have come.”

  “You’re not so very far from Waterford,” put in Tom. “We didn’t make any kind of speed coming from Shopton, and we could be back again inside of four hours if we had to.”

  “Then you didn’t travel fast during the night?” asked the government man.

  “No, we just drifted along,” Tom answered. “I gave orders to run the machinery slowly, as I wanted to get it in good shape for the other tests that will come soon. But I told George, whom I left in charge when I turned in, to head for New York. I wanted to get out over the ocean to try the guns with the new recoil arrangement.”

  “Well, we’re over the ocean all right,” spoke Ned, as he looked down at the heaving waters.

  “It isn’t the first time,” replied Tom cheerfully. “Koku, you may serve breakfast now,” for the giant had been taken along as a sort of cook and waiter. Koku manifested no surprise or alarm when he found the airship floating over the sea. Whatever Tom did was right to him. He had great confidence in his master.

  “No, it isn’t the first time we’ve taken a water flight,” spoke Ned. “I was only surprised at the suddenness of it, that’s all.”

  “It’s my first experience so far out above the water,” observed Lieutenant Marbury, “though of course I’ve sailed on many seas. Why, we’re out of sight of land.”

  “About ten miles out, yes,” admitted Tom. “Far enough to make it safe to test the guns with real projectiles. That is what I want to do.”

  “And we’ve been running all night?” asked Mr. Damon.

  “Yes, but at slow speed. The engines are in better shape now than ever before,” Tom said. “Well, if you’re ready we’ll have breakfast.”

  The meal was served by Koku with as much unconcern as though they were in the Swift homestead back in Shopton, instead of floating near the clouds. And while it was being eaten in the main cabin, and while the crew was having breakfast in their quarters, the aerial warship was moving along over the ocean in charge of George Watson, one of Tom’s engineers, who was stationed in the forward pilot-house.

  “So you’re going to give the guns a real test this time, is that it, Tom?” asked Ned, as he pushed back his plate, a signal that he had eaten enough.

  “That’s about it.”

  “But don’t you think it’s a bit risky out over the water this way. Supposing something should—should happen?” Ned hesitated.

  “You mean we might fall?” asked Tom, with a smile.

  “Yes; or turn upside down.”

  “Nothing like that could happen. I’m so sure that I have solved the problem of the recoil of the guns that I’m willing to take chances. But if any of you want to get off the Mars while the test is being made, I have a small boat I can lower, and let you row about in that until—”

  “No, thank you!” interrupted Mr. Damon, as he looked below. There was quite a heavy swell on, and the ocean did not appear very attractive. They would be much more comfortable in the big Mars.

  “I think you won’t have any trouble,” asserted Lieutenant Marbury. “I believe Tom Swift has the right idea about the guns, and there will be so small a shock from the recoil that it will not be noticeable.”

  “We’ll soon know,” spoke Tom. “I’m going to get ready for the test now.”

  They were now well out from shore, over the Atlantic, but to make certain no ships would be endangered by the projectiles, Tom and the others searched the waters to the horizon with powerful glasses. Nothing was seen and the work of loading the guns was begun. The bomb tubes, in the main cabin, were also to be given a test.

  As service charges were to be used, and as the projectiles were filled with explosives, great care was needed in handling them.

  “We’ll try dropping bombs first,” Tom suggested. “We know they will work, and that will be so much out of the way.”

  To make the test a severe one, small floating targets were first dropped overboard from the Mars. Then the aerial warship, circling about, came on toward them. Tom, seated at the range-finders, pressed the button that released the shells containing the explosives. One after another they dropped into the sea, exploding as they fell, and sending up a great column of salt water.

  “Every one a hit!” reported Lieutenant Marbury, who was keeping “score.”

  “That’s good,” responded Tom. “But the others won’t be so easy. We have nothing to shoot at.”

  They had to fire the other guns without targets at which to aim. But, after all, it was the absence of recoil they wanted to establish, and this could be done without shooting at any particular object.

  One after another the guns were loaded. As has been explained, they were now made double, one barrel carrying the projectile, and the other a charge of water.

  “Are you ready?” asked Tom, when it was time to fire. Lieutenant Marbury, Ned and Mr. Damon were helping, by being stationed at the pressure gauges to note the results.

  “All ready,” answered Ned.

  “Do you think we’d better put on life preservers, Tom?” asked Mr. Damon.

  “Nonsense! What for?”

  “In case—in case anything happens.”

  “Nothing will happen. Look out now, I’m going to fire.”

  The guns were to be fired simultaneously by means of an electric current, when Tom pressed a button.

  “Here they go!” exclaimed the young inventor.

  There was a moment of waiting, and then came a thunderin
g roar. The Mars trembled, but she did not shift to either side from an even keel. From one barrel of the guns shot out the explosive projectiles, and from the other spurted a jet of water, sent out by a charge of powder, equal in weight to that which forced out the shot.

  As the projectile was fired in one direction, and the water in one directly opposite, the two discharges neutralized one another.

  Out flew the pointed steel shells, to fall harmlessly into the sea, where they exploded, sending up columns of water.

  “Well!” cried Tom as the echoes died away. “How was it?”

  “Couldn’t have been better,” declared Lieutenant Marbury. “There wasn’t the least shock of recoil. Tom Swift, you have solved the problem, I do believe! Your aerial warship is a success!”

  “I’m glad to hear you say so. There are one or two little things that need changing, but I really think I have about what the United States Government wants.”

  “I am, also, of that belief, Tom. If only—” The officer stopped suddenly.

  “Well?” asked Tom suggestively.

  “I was going to say if only those foreign spies don’t make trouble.”

  “I think we’ve seen the last of them,” Tom declared. “Now we’ll go on with the tests.”

  More guns were fired, singly and in batteries, and in each case the Mars stood the test perfectly. The double barrel had solved the recoil problem.

  For some little time longer they remained out over the sea, going through some evolutions to test the rudder control, and then as their present object had been accomplished Tom gave orders to head back to Shopton, which place was reached in due time.

  “Well, Tom, how was it?” asked Mr. Swift, for though his son had said nothing to his friends about the prospective test, the aged inventor knew about it.

  “Successful, Dad, in every particular.”

  “That’s good. I didn’t think you could do it. But you did. I tell you it isn’t much that can get the best of a Swift!” exclaimed the aged man proudly. “Oh, by the way, Tom, here’s a telegram that came while you were gone,” and he handed his son the yellow envelope.

  Tom ripped it open with a single gesture, and in a flash his eyes took in the words. He read:

  “Look out for spies during trial flights.”

  The message was signed with a name Tom did not recognize.

  “Any bad news?” asked Mr. Swift.

  “No—oh, no,” replied Tom, as he crumpled up the paper and thrust it into his pocket. “No bad news, Dad.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear that,” went on Mr. Swift. “I don’t like telegrams.”

  When Tom showed the message to Lieutenant Marbury, that official, after one glance at the signature, said:

  “Pierson, eh? Well, when he sends out a warning it generally means something.”

  “Who’s Pierson?” asked Tom.

  “Head of the Secret Service department that has charge of this airship matter. There must be something in the wind, Tom.”

  Extra precautions were taken about the shops. Strangers were not permitted to enter, and all future work on the Mars was kept secret. Nevertheless, Tom was worried. He did not want his work to be spoiled just when it was about to be a success. For that it was a success, Lieutenant Marbury assured him. The government man said he would have no hesitation in recommending the purchase of Tom’s aerial warship.

  “There’s just one other test I want to see made,” he said.

  “What is that?” Tom inquired.

  “In a storm. You know we can’t always count on having good weather, and I’d like to see how she behaves in a gale.”

  “You shall!” declared the young inventor.

  For the next week, during which finishing touches were put on the big craft, Tom anxiously waited for signs of a storm. At last they came. Danger signals were put up all along the coast, and warnings were sent out broadcast by the Weather Bureau at Washington.

  One dull gray morning Tom roused his friends early and announced that the Mars was going up.

  “A big storm is headed this way,” Tom said, “and we’ll have a chance to see how she behaves in it.”

  And even as the flight began, the forerunning wind and rain came in a gust of fury. Into the midst of it shot the big aerial warship, with her powerful propellers beating the moisture-laden air.

  CHAPTER XIX

  QUEER HAPPENINGS

  “Say, Tom, are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Of course I am! What do you mean?”

  It was Ned Newton who asked the question, and Tom Swift who answered it. The chums were in the pilot-house of the dipping, swaying Mars, which was nosing her way into the storm, fighting on an upward slant, trying, if possible, to get above the area of atmospheric disturbance.

  “Well, I mean are you sure your craft will stand all this straining, pulling and hauling?” went on Ned, as he clung to a brass hand rail, built in the side of the pilot-house wall for the very purpose to which it was now being put.

  “If she doesn’t stand it she’s no good!” cried Tom, as he clung to the steering wheel, which was nearly torn from his hands by the deflections of the rudders.

  “Well, it’s taking a big chance, it seems to me,” went on Ned, as he peered through the rain-spotted bull’s-eyes of the pilot-house.

  “There’s no danger,” declared Tom. “I wanted to give the ship the hardest test possible before I formally offered her to the government. If she can’t stand a blow like this she isn’t what I thought her, and I’ll have to build another. But I’m sure she will stand the racket, Ned. She’s built strongly, and even if part of the gas bag is carried away, as it was when our propeller shattered, we can still sail. If you think this is anything, wait until we turn about and begin to fight our way against the wind.”

  “Are you going to do that, Tom?”

  “I certainly am. We’re going with the gale now, to see what is the highest rate of speed we can attain. Pretty soon I’m going to turn her around, and see if she can make any headway in the other direction. Of course I know she won’t make much, if any speed, against the gale; but I must give her that test.”

  “Well, Tom, you know best, of course,” admitted Ned. “But to me it seems like taking a big risk.”

  And indeed it did seem, not only to Ned, but to some of the experienced men of Tom’s crew, that the young inventor was taking more chances than ever before, and Tom, as my old readers well know, had, in his career, taken some big ones.

  The storm grew worse as the day progressed, until it was a veritable hurricane of wind and rain. The warnings of the Weather Bureau had not been exaggerated. But through the fierce blow the Mars fought her way. As Tom had said, she was going with the wind. This was comparatively easy. But what would happen when she headed into the storm?

  Mr. Damon, in the main cabin, sat and looked at Lieutenant Marbury, the eccentric man now and then blessing something as he happened to think of it.

  “Do you—do you think we are in any danger?” he finally asked.

  “Not at present,” replied the government expert.

  “You mean we will be—later?”

  “It’s hard to say. I guess Tom Swift knows his business, though.”

  “Bless my accident insurance policy!” murmured Mr. Damon. “I wish I had stayed home. If my wife ever hears of this—” He did not seem able to finish the sentence.

  In the engine-room the crew were busy over the various machines. Some of the apparatus was being strained to keep the ship on her course in the powerful wind, and would be under a worse stress when Tom turned his craft about. But, so far, nothing had given way, and everything was working smoothly.

  As hour succeeded hour and nothing happened, the timid ones aboard began to take more courage. Tom never for a moment lost heart. He knew what his craft could do, and he had taken her up in a terrific storm with a definite purpose in view. He was the calmest person aboard, with the exception, perhaps, of Koku. The giant did not seem to know w
hat fear was. He depended entirely on Tom, and as long as his young master had charge of matters the giant was content to obey orders.

  There was to be no test of the guns this time. They had worked sufficiently well, and, if need be, could have been fired in the gale. But Tom did not want his men to take unnecessary risks, nor was he foolhardy himself.

  “We’ll have our hands full when we turn around and head into the wind,” he said to his chum. “That will be enough.”

  “Then you’re really going to give the Mars that test?”

  “I surely am. I don’t want any comebacks from Uncle Sam after he accepts my aerial warship. I’ve guaranteed that she’ll stand up and make headway against a gale, and I’m going to prove it.”

  Lieutenant Marbury was told of the coming trial, and he prepared to take official note of it. While matters were being gotten in readiness Tom turned the wheel over to his assistant pilot and went to the engine-room to see that everything was in good shape to cope with any emergency. The rudders had been carefully examined before the flight was made, to make sure they would not fail, for on them depended the progress of the ship against the powerful wind.

  “I rather guess those foreign spies have given up trying to do Tom an injury,” remarked Ned to the lieutenant as they sat in the main cabin, listening to the howl of the wind, and the dash of the rain.

  “Well, I certainly hope so,” was the answer. “But I wouldn’t be too sure. The folks in Washington evidently think something is likely to happen, or they wouldn’t have sent that warning telegram.”

  “But we haven’t seen anything of the spies,” Ned remarked.

  “No, but that isn’t any sign they are not getting ready to make trouble. This may be the calm before the storm. Tom must still be on the lookout. It isn’t as though his inventions alone were in danger, for they would not hesitate to inflict serious personal injury if their plans were thwarted.”

  “They must be desperate.”

  “They are. But here comes Tom now. He looks as though something new was about to happen.”