Tom Swift and the Electronic Hydrolung

by II Victor Appleton

  CHAPTER VIII

  DATE TROUBLE

  The boys exchanged looks of fear through their face masks as theknifelike hull and conning tower of the submarine loomed gray andghostly.

  Was the sub Brungarian? And what was it up to? Were the two young skindivers about to be run down or kidnaped?

  _Or was its crew friendly?_

  "Better not chance it," Tom decided fast. He caught Bud's eye again andmotioned upward with a jerk of his thumb. "Topside, pal!"

  "Roger!" Bud's lips shaped the word silently behind his face mask.

  In a twinkling both boys flicked their density controls and zoomedupward. The sub at once seemed to betray a hostile intent. It blew itstanks and planed upward in pursuit. But Tom and Bud easily pulled away.Their density units worked like magic, shooting them straight towardthe surface.

  "Wow!" Bud shoved back his face mask as they broke water. "That baby wasafter us and no mistake!"

  Tom nodded, treading water. "Let's not stick around here, either! We'llsoon have company again if we do!"

  Bud did not argue. "Where to, skipper?"

  In the fresh salt air, with the sunshine sparkling on the waves, it washard to believe that an enemy submarine was hot on their trail. But bothyouths realized their peril was growing by the moment.

  "Back toward the _Sea Hound_," Tom said, pointing north-northwest."Submerge as we go!"

  Bud circled his thumb and forefinger, then adjusted his mask, and thetwo boys plunged back in. On a sloping downward course, they sped alonglike undersea rockets, their ion jets functioning perfectly. Minuteslater, they sighted the seacopter.

  Hank waved to them through the cabin window as they glided past. The airlock opened speedily and the two boys entered. Both heaved sighs ofrelief when they were safely inside.

  "Somethin' wrong?" Chow asked, sniffing trouble.

  "A strange submarine," Tom reported. "Brungarian more than likely. Itmay be heading this way if they've tracked us."

  "A sub?" Hank was startled. "We've picked up nothing on sonar!"

  "Check again," Tom ordered.

  The sonarman bent to his scope and Hank listened intently over thehydrophones. Neither could detect any sign of another craft.

  "Probably the same one that fired on us the last time," Tom said grimly."We'd better clear out before they take another pot shot at us."

  Hank sent the _Sea Hound_ zooming toward the surface while the boyschanged quickly into slacks and T shirts. Then Tom took over thecontrols for the flight home.

  "Brand my vitamin vittles! Are we just goin' to turn tail an' run everytime them varmints come skulkin' around?" Chow fumed as the seacopterarrowed northward.

  "Not if I can help it," Tom vowed. "But first I must figure out a way tomake our own craft invisible, so to speak. It's the only way to protectour American crews, Chow, if we hope to do any secret digging for thatlost missile."

  "Want another suggestion, skipper?" Bud put in. "This one is about thehydrolung."

  "Sure. Speak up."

  "How about putting some sort of communications system into our hydrolunggear? If I hadn't been close enough to grab you when I spotted thatsub, it might have been curtains, pal!"

  "You're right," Tom agreed. "I'll get to work on it."

  It was sunset when Fearing Island came into sight. The boys flew aPigeon Special back to Enterprises, where Tom phoned a full report onthe mystery sub to the Navy Department. Then the two chums drove to theSwift home for a late supper.

  Phyl Newton was visiting Sandy that evening, but the girls displayed amarked coolness toward Tom and Bud. Instead of engaging in conversation,they retired to Sandy's room upstairs to play records, while Mrs. Swiftserved the boys a warmed-up but tasty meal of roast beef and mince pie.

  "What's wrong? Are we repulsive or something?" Bud asked as they ate.

  Tom shrugged, concentrating on a mouthful of roast beef. "Search me. Wesure don't seem very popular with the girls tonight."

  Mrs. Swift, overhearing their remarks in the kitchen, smiled butmaintained a diplomatic silence.

  Suddenly Bud slapped his forehead. "Good night! No wonder!"

  Tom looked up with a grin of interest. "Well, what have we done?"

  "It's what we _haven't_ done, pal!" Bud retorted. "We had a date thisafternoon, remember? That beach party and dance put on by Sandy andPhyl's school sorority!"

  Tom gulped. "Oops! Boy, we really did pull a boner this time! Icompletely forgot!"

  As they finished supper, the boys discussed various ways to make amends.Boxes of chocolates? Flowers? None of their ideas seemed to have theproper spark.

  "We'll have to come up with something super," Bud said.

  "Right!" Tom agreed. "Let's sleep on it and see if we can't dream upsomething by tomorrow morning that'll really wow them."

  The next morning Tom had a flash of inspiration as he drove to the plantin his sports car. He hailed Bud at the first opportunity.

  "I have it, pal! What say we stage an old-fashioned square dance Tuesdaynight at the yacht club on Lake Carlopa?"

  Bud's eyes lighted up. "Hey, that's a great idea! We'll invite a wholegang, get Chow to handle the refreshments, and make it a real shindig!"

  The boys shook hands enthusiastically. Eager to patch matters up as soonas possible, they invited Sandy and Phyl out to lunch that day. Overdessert, the boys announced their plans for a square dance.

  "We--uh--realize we goofed yesterday on that beach party," Tom saidsheepishly. "But we're hoping you'll give us another chance."

  The girls looked at each other, their eyes twinkling, then burst intogiggles.

  "You're forgiven completely!" Phyl declared.

  "Then it's a date?" Bud put in.

  "You bet it's a date, and don't you forget it!" Sandy warned. "Phyl andI are going right over to Dorman's Department Store and pick out somecute outfits for the dance!"

  Tom and Bud chuckled over the success of their scheme as they drove backto Enterprises. Later that afternoon a telephone call interrupted Tom ashe worked in his lab on a sonic-communications system for the hydrolungapparatus.

  "This is Lester Morris," said the voice at the other end of the line.The name did not register with Tom at first until his caller added, "Ihear you're planning a square dance Tuesday night at the yacht club."

  Suddenly Tom remembered. Lester Morris was a popular dance orchestraleader in and around Shopton. He was also much in demand as asquare-dance caller and fiddler.

  "That's right," Tom said with a chuckle. "News must travel fast. We justphoned invitations to our friends."

  Morris asked if musicians had been hired for the evening. When Tom saidNo, his caller volunteered for the job, offering to provide a smallcombo of country-style players. His asking price sounded like a bargainrate, and Tom, knowing Morris's reputation, was only too glad to engagehim.

  "Lucky break, his calling," the young inventor thought as he hung up.

  Bud was delighted to hear of the arrangement when he came into thelaboratory a while later. The boys talked over their dance plans for afew moments, then Bud asked:

  "How's our underwater talkie system coming?"

  Tom scratched his jaw thoughtfully. "A bit tricky but not toodifficult," he replied. "It's mostly a job of adapting the sonarphonearrangement from our Fat Man suits--in miniature."

  A tiny mike, Tom explained, would be installed on the inside of eachface mask, with its output feeding to a sonar transducer on theexterior. The receiving transducers would feed from amplifiers toearphones. The hookup would be powered by the solar battery in thehydrolung power unit, by connecting wires through the breathing tube.

  "That's neat, Tom," Bud said. "Need any help?"

  "You can mold us a pair of new face masks--big enough to cover theearphones," Tom suggested. He handed Bud a penciled sketch from theworkbench, adding, "Then drill the holes for the mikes andearphones--the dimensions are there on the drawing. But watch it soyou don't crack the plastic."

  _Chow w
as wild-eyed with panic!_]

  While Bud complied, Tom began assembling the tiny electronic parts. Intwo hours the gear was ready for testing.

  Tom wiped his perspiring forehead and gave Bud a grin of satisfaction."Go get your swim trunks, fly boy. Let's give it a tryout in the tank."

  "Swell idea! Be back in a jiff!"

  After a quick change, the boys strapped on the new hydrolung equipment.Before adjusting his face mask, Tom mentioned that he had insertedscrambling circuits into the communicators to foil any enemyeavesdroppers.

  "If they do pick up anything, it'll sound like chop suey," Tom endedwith a chuckle.

  The boys submerged in the test tank and proceeded to give the newunderwater communication system a thorough check-out. It workedperfectly. Ten minutes later Tom and Bud clambered out again, drippingwet but well satisfied.

  They had just peeled off their masks when Chow came charging into thelab, with a crowd of workmen and technicians at his heels. The cook waswild-eyed with panic.

  "What's wrong, Chow?" Tom asked in alarm.