The Tom Swift Megapack

by Victor Appleton

  “I mean to say that we’re at exactly the spot Where Hardley said she went down,” corrected Tom, “and we weren’t there before—that is not so that we actually knew it. Now we are, and we’re going down. But that doesn’t guarantee that we’ll find the wreck. She may have shifted, or be covered with sand. All that I said before in reference to the difficulty in locating something under the surface of the sea still holds good.”

  Once more, to make very certain there was no error, the figures were gone over, Then, as one result checked the other, Tom put away the papers, the nautical almanac, and said:

  “Let’s go!”

  Slowly the tanks of the M. N. 1 began to fill. It was decided to let her sink straight down, instead of descending by means of the vertical rudders. In that way it was hoped to land her as nearly as possible on the exact spot where the Pandora was supposed to be.

  “How deep will it be, Tom?” asked Ned, as he stood beside his chum in the forward observation cabin and watched the needle of the gauge move higher and higher.

  “About six hundred feet, I judge, going by the character of the sea bottom around here. Certainly not more than eight hundred I should say.” And Tom was right. At seven hundred and eighty-six feet the gauge stopped moving, and a slight jar told all on board that the submarine was again on the ocean floor.

  “Now to look for the wreck!” exclaimed Tom. “And it will be a real search this time. We know we are starting right.”

  “Are you going to put on diving suits and walk around looking for her?” asked Ned.

  “No, that would take too long,” answered Tom. “We’ll just cruise about, beginning with small circles and gradually enlarging them, spiral fashion. We’ll have to go up a few feet to get off the bottom.”

  As Tom was about to give this order Ned looked from the glass windows. The powerful searchlight had been switched on and its gleams illuminated the ocean in the immediate vicinity of the craft.

  As was generally the case, the light attracted hundreds of fish of various shapes, sizes, and, since the waters were tropical, beautiful colors. They swarmed in front of the glass windows, and Ned was glad to note that there were no large sea creatures, like horse mackerel or big sharks. Somehow or other, Ned had a horror of big fish. There were sharks in the warm waters, he well knew, but he hoped they would keep away, even though he did not have to encounter any in the diving suit.

  Slowly the submarine began to move. And as she was being elevated slightly above the ocean bed, to enable her to proceed, Ned uttered an exclamation and pointed to the windows.

  “Look, Tom!” he cried.

  “What is it?” the young inventor asked.

  “Snakes!” whispered his chum. “Millions of ’em! Out there in the water! Look how they’re writhing about!”

  Tom Swift laughed.

  “Those aren’t snakes!” he said. “That’s serpent grass—a form of very long seaweed which grows on certain bottoms. It attains a length of fifty feet sometimes, and the serpent weed looks a good deal like a nest of snakes. That’s how it got its name. I didn’t know there was any here. But we must have dropped down into a bed of it.”

  “Any danger?” asked Ned.

  “Not that I know of, only it may make it more difficult for us to see the wreck of the Pandora.”

  As Tom turned to leave the cabin the submarine suddenly ceased moving. And she came to a gradual stop as though she had been “snubbed” by a mooring line.

  “I wonder what’s the matter!” exclaimed Tom. “We can’t have come upon the wreck so soon.”

  At that moment a man entered the cabin.

  “Trouble, Mr. Swift!” he reported.

  “What kind?” asked Tom.

  “Our propellers are tangled with a mass of serpent weed,” was the answer. “They’re both fouled, and we can’t budge.”

  “Bless my anchor chain!” ejaculated Mr. Damon. “Stuck again!”

  CHAPTER XX

  THE DEVIL FISH

  It was true. The long sinuous strands of ocean grass, known under the name of “serpent weed,” had caught around the whirling propellers and there had been wound and twisted very tightly. Just as sometimes the stern line gets so tightly twisted around a motor boat propeller as to require hours of work with an axe to free it, the seaweed was twisted around the blades of the M. N. 1.

  Slowly the undersea craft came to a stop, and there she remained, floating freely enough, but a few feet above the bottom of the ocean. There was a look of alarm on the faces of Ned and Mr. Damon, but Tom Swift smiled.

  “This is annoying, and may cause us delay,” he announced, “but there is no danger.”

  “How are we to get free from the weed?” asked Mr. Damon. “We can’t move if it’s wound around our propellers, can we?”

  “Not very well,” Tom answered. “But all that will have to be done will be for some of us to put on diving suits, go out and chop the strands of weed away. We can do it more easily than could an ordinary vessel, for they would have to go into dry dock for the purpose. I think I’ll go out myself. I want to look around a little.”

  “I’ll go with you,” said Ned. “As long as we haven’t seen any sharks I don’t mind.”

  “Nor gigantic starfish, either,” added Tom with a smile, and Ned nodded in agreement.

  “We might try reversing the propellers,” suggested the man from the engine room, who had come in with the information about the serpent weed. “The chief didn’t like to try that. We saw the weed from our observation windows and stopped as soon as we felt we had fouled it.”

  “That was right,” commended Tom. “Well, try reversing. It can’t do any harm, and it may make it easier for us to free the propellers when we go out.”

  He went to the engine room himself to see that everything was properly attended to. Slowly the motors were reversed, and only a slight current was given them, as, with the resistance of the tightly wound weed, too powerful a force might burn out the insulation.

  Slowly the starting lever was thrown over. There was a low humming and whining as the current jumped from the batteries, and a slight vibration of the craft. Tom looked at the movable pointer which showed the speed and direction of the propellers. The hand oscillated slightly and then stopped.

  “Shut off the current!” cried Tom. “It’s of no use. The propellers are held as tight as a drum! We’ve got to go out and cut loose the serpent weed!”

  The experiment of reversing the propellers had failed. But still Tom did not believe his craft was in danger. He gave orders for the engine room force to stand by and then arranged for himself, Ned, and Koku to go outside in diving dress and cut the weed off the shafts. There were twin propellers on the submarine, each revolving independently by separate motors, and each capable of being sent in forward or reverse direction.

  “Start the engines as soon as we give the signal,” Tom told the machinist. “Two knocks on the hull with an axe will mean go ahead, and three will mean reverse.”

  “I understand,” said Weyth, the machinist. “But stand away from the propellers after you give the signal. I’ll give you three minutes to move clear.”

  “That will be enough,” Tom said. “But better make it half speed in either case. My idea is that if we can partly cut the weed off, starting the propellers, either forward or in reverse, will finish the trick.”

  “It may,” agreed Weyth.

  Armed with axes and sharp steel bars, Tom, Ned, and Koku were soon ready to step outside the submarine.

  They entered the diving chamber. In the usual manner water was admitted, and, when the pressure was equalized, the outer door was opened and they walked out on the floor of the ocean, the submarine having been allowed to settle down again on the bottom of the Atlantic.

  The powerful searchlight had been turned so that the beams were diffused toward the stern. In addition to this Tom and his two companions carried, attached to their suits, small, but brilliant, electric torches. Of course they had their air tanks w
ith them, and also the telephones, by means of which they could communicate with one another.

  As they emerged into the warm waters surrounding the submarine they disturbed thousands of small fish which were feeding all about. Like ocean swallows, the creatures scattered in all directions, some even brushing the divers as they slowly made their way toward the stern of the craft.

  “Nice place here,” said Ned to Tom, as they walked along, Koku coming just behind them.

  “Yes. If we could take this up above and exhibit it in some city park it would make a hit all right,” answered the young inventor.

  They were walking on the pure, white, sandy floor of the ocean, some seven hundred feet below the surface, protected from the awful pressure of the water by means of the specially constructed suits which Tom had invented. About them, growing as if in a garden, were great masses of coral, some so thin and sinuous that it waved as do palms and ferns in the open air. Other coral was in great rock masses.

  Then, too, there was the unpleasant serpent weed. It did not grow all over, but in patches here and there, as rank grass springs up in a meadow.

  And it had been the misfortune of the M. N. 1 that she poked her tail into a mass of this long, tough grass, which was now wound about her propellers.

  In addition to the many wonderful vegetable forms that grew on the ocean floor, some rivalling in beauty the orchids of the tropics, and almost as delicate, there were the fishes, which darted to and fro, now swiftly swimming beneath some coral arch, and again poising around some mass of waving sea fronds.

  “Well, let’s get busy,” called Tom to Ned through the telephone. “We want to free the propellers and find the wreck of the Pandora. She may be a hundred feet from us, or a mile away, and in that case it’s going to take longer to locate her.”

  Together they walked to the stern of the disabled craft. One look at the propeller shafts, the examination being made by the diffused glow from the searchlight, as well as from the electric torches carried, showed that the diagnosis of the trouble was correct.

  Wound around both propellers was a mass of the serpent weed, tightly bound because the machinery had whirled it around and around after the grass had once been caught. It was almost as bad as though manila cable had been thus accidentally fastened.

  “Well, might as well begin to cut it loose,” said Tom to his companions. “Koku, you take the port propeller, and Ned and I will work on the other. You ought to be able to beat us at this game.”

  “Me do,” said the giant, as he got his axe ready for work.

  Blows struck in water lose much of their force. This can easily be proved by filling a bathtub full of water, rolling up the sleeves, and then taking a hammer in the hand, immersing it fully, and trying to strike some object held in the other hand. The water hampers the blows.

  It was this way with Tom and his friends. Nearly half of Koku’s great strength was wasted. But they knew they could take their time, though they did not want to waste many hours.

  The streamers of weed were like strands of tightly wound rope, and this, under certain circumstances, acquires almost the density of wood. Tom and Ned, working together, had managed to chop a little off their propeller shaft, and Koku had done somewhat better with his task, when Ned became aware of a shadow passing above him.

  Instinctively he looked up, and as he did so he could not repress a start of horror. Tom, too, as well as Koku, saw the menacing shadow. Ned grasped more tightly his sharp, steel bar and spoke through the telephone to his companions.

  “Devil fish!” he said. “The devil fish are after us.”

  CHAPTER XXI

  A WAR REMINDER

  To a large number of people the name devil fish brings to mind a conception of an octopus, squid, cuttle fish, or a member of that species. This is, however, a mistake.

  The true devil fish of the tropics is a member of the sting ray family, and the common name it bears is given to it because of two prongs, or horns, which project just in front of its mouth. His Satanic Majesty is popularly supposed to have horns, together with a tail, hoofs and other appendages, and the horns of this sting ray fish are what give it the name it bears.

  The devil fish, some specimens of which grow to the weight of a ton and measure fifteen feet from wing tip to wing tip, are armed with a long tail, terminating in a tough, horny substance, like many of the ray family members. This horn-tipped tail, lashing about in the water, becomes a terrible weapon of defense. Possibly it is used for offense, as the devil fish feeds on small sea animals, sweeping them into its mouth by movements of the horns mentioned. These horns, swirled about in the water, create a sort of suction current, and on that the food fishes are borne into the maw of the gigantic creature.

  A whale rushes through a school of small sea animals with open mouth, takes in a great quantity of water, and the fringe of whalebone acts as a strainer, letting out the water and retaining the food. In like manner the devil fish feeds, except that it has no whalebone. Its “horns” help it to get a meal.

  The “wing tips” of the devil fish have been spoken of. They are not really wings, though when one of these fish breaks water and shoots through the air, it appears to be flying. The wings are merely fins, enormously enlarged, and these give the fish its great size, rather than does the body itself. It is the whipping spike-armed tail of the devil fish that is to be feared, aside from the fact that the rush of a monster might swamp a small boat.

  It was two or three of these devil fish that were now floating in the water above Tom and his companions, who were grouped about the stern of the disabled submarine.

  “They won’t attack us unless we disturb them,” said Tom through his telephone, speaking to Ned and Koku. “Keep still and they’ll swim away. I guess they’re trying to find out what new kind of fish our boat is.”

  All might have gone well had not Koku acted precipitately. One of the devil fish, the smallest of the trio, measuring about ten feet across, swam down near the giant. It was an uncanny looking creature, with its horns swirling about in the water and its bone-tipped tail lashing to and fro like a venomous serpent.

  “Look out!” cried Tom. But he was too late. Koku raised his axe and struck with all his force at the sea beast. He hit it a glancing blow, not enough to kill it, but to wound it, and immediately the sea was crimsoned with blood.

  The devil fish was able to observe under water better than its human enemies, and it was in no doubt as to its assailant. In an instant it attacked the giant, seeking to pierce him with the deadly tail.

  These tails are not only armed with a tip of horn-like hardness, they are also poisonous, and their penetrating power is great. Fishermen have sometimes caught small sting rays, which are a sort of devil fish. Lashing about in the bottom of a boat a sting ray can send its tail tip through the sole of a heavy boot and inflict a painful wound which may cause serious results.

  The beast Koku had wounded was trying to sting the giant, and the latter, aware of his peril, was striking out with the axe.

  “Look out, Tom!” called Ned through his telephone, as he saw one of the two unwounded devil fish swirl down toward the young inventor. Tom looked up, saw the big, horrible shape above him, and jabbed it with the sharp, steel bar. He inflicted a wound which added further to the crimson tinge in the sea, and that fish now attacked Tom Swift.

  In another instant all three divers were fighting the terrible creatures, that, knowing by instinct they were in danger, were using the weapon with which nature had provided them. They lashed about with their sharp-pointed tails, and more than one blow fell on the suits of the divers.

  Had there been the least penetration, of course almost instant death would have followed. For the sea, at that depth and pressure, entering the suits would have ended life suddenly. But Tom had seen to it that the suits were well made and strong, with a lining of steel. And however great a thickness of leather the devil fish could send his sting through, it could not overcome steel.

  Ther
e was danger, though, that the slender tip might slip through the steel bars across the windows in the helmets and shatter the glass. And that would be as great a danger as if the suits themselves were penetrated.

  “We’ve got to fight ’em!” gasped Tom through his instrument, and, seeing his chance, he gave another jab to the devil fish attacking him. Koku, too, was standing up well under the attack of the monster he had first wounded. Ned, watching his chance, got in several blows, first at one and then at the other of the huge creatures. The third devil fish, which had not been wounded, had disappeared. Finally Koku, with a desperate blow, succeeded in severing the tail from the beast attacking him, and that battle was over.

  As if realizing that it had lost its power to harm, the devil fish at once swam off, grievously wounded. Then Koku turned his attention to Tom’s enemy. Ned, too, lent his aid, and they succeeded in wounding the creature in several places, so that it sank to the bottom of the sea and lay there gasping.

  Slowly the red waters cleared and the three divers, exhausted by the fight, could view the remaining creature—the one wounded to death. It was the largest of the three, and truly it was a monster. But it was past the power to harm, and in a few minutes an under sea current carried it slowly away. Later it would float, doubtless, or be devoured by sharks or other ocean pirates before reaching the surface.

  “Thank goodness that’s over!” said Ned to Tom. “I don’t want to see any more of them.”

  “There may be more about,” Tom said. “We’d better keep watch. Ned, you lay off and Koku and I will work on the propellers. Then you can take your turn.”

  This plan was followed. Koku, not being tired, did not need to stop working, and he was the first to free his shaft partially of the entangling weeds. Tom rapped a signal, the blades were slowly revolved and then came free. A little later the second was in like condition.

  “Now we can move!” said Tom, as they started back toward the diving chamber. “I hope we don’t run into another patch of that serpent grass.”

  “Nor see any more devil fish,” added Ned.