They were on their way down the lake when, in the air overhead they saw a balloon on fire, with a man clinging to the trapeze. They managed to save the fellow’s life, after a strenuous endeavor. The balloonist, John Sharp, was destined to play quite a part in Tom’s life.
Mr. Sharp was more than an aeronaut—he was the inventor of an airship—that is, he had plans drawn for the more important parts, but he had struck a “snag of clouds,” as he expressed it, and could not make the machine work. His falling in with Mr. Swift and his son seemed providential, for Tom and his father were at once interested in the project for navigating the upper air. They began a study of Mr. Sharp’s plans, and the balloonist was now in a fair way to have the difficulty solved.
His airship was, primarily an aeroplane, but with a sustaining aluminum container, shaped like a cigar, and filled with a secret gas, made partly of hydrogen, being very light and powerful. It was testing the effect of this gas on a small model of the aluminum container that the explosion, told of in the first chapter, occurred. In fact it was only one of several explosions, but, as Tom said, all the while they were eliminating certain difficulties, until now the airship seemed almost a finished thing. But a few more details remained to be worked out, and Mr. Swift and his son felt that they could master these.
So it was with a feeling of no little elation, that the young inventor followed Mr. Sharp into the shop. The balloonist, it may be explained, had been invited to live with the Swifts pending the completion of the airship.
“Do you think we’ll get on the right track if we put the needle valve in?” asked Tom, as he noted with satisfaction that the damage from the explosion was not great.
“I’m sure we will,” answered the aeronaut. “Now let’s make another model container, and try the gas again.”
They set to work, with Mr. Swift helping them occasionally, and Garret Jackson, the engineer, lending a hand whenever he was needed. All that afternoon work on the airship progressed. The joint inventors of it wanted to be sure that the sustaining gas bag, or aluminum container, would do its work properly, as this would hold them in the air, and prevent accidents, in case of a stoppage of the engine or propellers.
The aeroplane part of the airship was all but finished, and the motor, a powerful machine, of new design, built by Mr. Swift, was ready to be installed.
All that afternoon Tom, his father and Mr. Sharp labored in the shop. As it grew dusk there sounded from the house the ringing of a bell.
“Supper time,” remarked Tom, laying aside a wrench. “I wish Mrs. Baggert would wait about an hour. I’d have this valve nearly done, then.”
But the housekeeper was evidently not going to wait, for her voice supplemented the bell.
“Supper! Sup-per!” she called. “Come now, Mr. Swift; Tom, Mr. Sharp! I can’t wait any longer! The meat and potatoes will be spoiled!”
“I s’pose we’d better go in,” remarked Mr. Sharp, with something of a sigh. “We can finish tomorrow.”
The shop, where certain parts of the airship were being made, was doubly locked, and Jackson, the engineer, who was also a sort of watchman, was bidden to keep good guard, for the fear of the gang of unscrupulous men, who had escaped from jail during a great storm, was still in the minds of Mr. Swift and his son.
“And give an occasional look in the shed, where the aeroplane is,” advised Mr. Sharp. “It wouldn’t take much to damage that, now.”
“I’ll pay particular attention to it,” promised the engineer. “Don’t worry, Mr. Sharp.”
After supper the three gathered around the table on which were spread out sheets of paper, covered with intricate figures and calculations, which Mr. Swift and the balloonist went over with care. Tom was examining some blue prints, which gave a sectional view of the proposed ship, and was making some measurements when the bell rang, and Mrs. Baggert ushered in Ned Newton, the most particular chum of the young inventor.
“Hello, Ned!” exclaimed Tom. “I was wondering what had become of you. Haven’t seen you in a dog’s age.”
“That’s right,” admitted Ned. “We’ve been working late nights at the bank. Getting ready for the regular visit of the examiner, who usually comes along about this time. Well, how are things going; and how is the airship?” for, of course, Ned had heard of that.
“Oh, pretty good. Had another explosion today, I s’pose you heard.”
“No, I hadn’t.”
“I thought everyone in town had, for Andy Foger and his two cronies were on hand, and they usually tell all they know.”
“Oh, Andy Foger! He makes me sick! He was scooting up the street in his auto just as I was coming in, ‘honking-honking’ his horn to beat the band! You’d think no one ever had an auto but him. He certainly was going fast.”
“Wait until I get in our airship,” predicted Tom. “Then I’ll show you what speed is!”
“Do you really think it will go fast?”
“Of course it will! Fast enough to catch Anson Morse and his crowd of scoundrels if we could get on their track.”
“Why, I thought they were in jail,” replied Ned, in some surprise. “Weren’t they arrested after they stole your boat?”
“Yes, and put in jail, but they managed to get out, and now they’re free to make trouble for us again.”
“Are you sure they’re out of jail?” asked Ned, and Tom noted that his chum’s face wore an odd look.
“Sure? Of course I am. But why do you ask?”
Ned did not answer for a moment. He glanced at Tom’s father, and the young inventor understood. Mr. Swift was getting rather along in age, and his long years of brain work had made him nervous. He had a great fear of Morse and his gang, for they had made much trouble for him in the past. Tom appreciated his chum’s hesitancy, and guessed that Ned had something to say that he did not want Mr. Swift to hear.
“Come on up to my room, Ned. I’ve got something I want to show you,” exclaimed Tom, after a pause.
The two lads left the room, Tom glancing apprehensively at his father. But Mr. Swift was so engrossed, together with the aeronaut, in making some calculations regarding wind pressure, that it is doubtful if either of the men were aware that the boys had gone.
“Now what is it, Ned?” demanded our hero, when they were safe in his apartment. “Something’s up. I can tell by your manner. What is it?”
“Maybe it’s nothing at all,” went on his chum. “If I had known, though that those men had gotten out of jail, I would have paid more attention to what I saw tonight, as I was leaving the bank to come here.”
“What did you see?” demanded Tom, and his manner, which had been calm, became somewhat excited.
“Well, you know I’ve been helping the payingteller straighten up his books,” went on the young bank employee, “and when I came out tonight, after working for several hours, I was glad enough to hurry away from the `slave-den,’ as I call it. I almost ran up the street, not looking where I was going, when, just as I turned the corner, I bumped into a man.”
“Nothing suspicious or wonderful in that,” commented Tom. “I’ve often run into people.”
“Wait,” advised Ned. “To save myself from falling I grabbed the man’s arm. He did the same to me, and there we stood, for a moment, right under a gas lamp. I looked down at his hands, and I saw that on the little finger of the left one there was tattooed a blue ring, and—”
“Happy Harry—the tramp!” exclaimed Tom, now much excited. “That’s where he wears a tattooed ring!”
“That’s what I thought you had told me,” resumed Ned, “but I didn’t pay any attention to it at the time, as I had no idea that the men were out of jail.”
“Well, what else happened?” inquired Tom
“Not much more. I apologized to the man, and he to me, and we let go of each other.”
“Are you sure about the ring on his finger?”
“Positive. His hand was right in the light. But wait, that isn’t all. I hurried on, not thinking
much about it, when, I saw another man step out of the dark shadows of Peterby’s grocery, just beyond the bank. The man must have mistaken me for some one else, for he spoke to me.”
“What did he say?”
“He asked me a question. It was: `Is there any chance tonight?’ ”
“What did you tell him?”
“Well, I was so surprised that I didn’t know what to say, and, before I could get my wits together the man had seen his mistake and hurried on. He joined the man I had collided with, and the two skipped off in the darkness. But not before a third man had come across the street, from in front of the bank, and hurried off with them.”
“Well?” asked Tom, as his chum paused.
“I don’t know what to think,” resumed Ned. “These men were certainly acting suspiciously, and, now that you tell me the Anson Morse gang is not locked up—well, it makes me feel that these must be some of their crowd.”
“Of course they are!” declared Tom positively. “That blue ring proves it!”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,” declared Ned. “The man certainly had a blue ring tattooed on his finger—the same finger where you say Happy Harry had his. But what would the men be doing in this neighborhood? They certainly have had a lesson not to meddle with any of your things.”
“No, I don’t believe they are after any of dad’s inventions this time. But I tell you what I do believe.”
“What?”
“Those men are planning to rob the Shopton Bank, Ned! And I advise you to notify the officers. That Morse gang is one of the worst in the country,” and Tom, much excited, began to pace the room, while Ned, who had not dreamed of such an outcome to his narrative, looked startled.
CHAPTER 3
WHITEWASHED
“Let’s tell your father, Tom,” suggested Ned, after a pause. “He’ll know what to do.”
“No, I’d rather not,” answered the young inventor quickly. “Dad has had trouble enough with these fellows, and I don’t want him to worry any more. Besides, he is working on a new invention, and if I tell him about the Happy Harry gang it will take his attention from it.”
“What invention is he planning now?”
“I don’t know, but it’s something important by the way he keeps at it. He hardly spares time to help Mr. Sharp and me on the airship. No, we’ll keep this news from dad.”
“Then I’ll inform the bank officials, as you suggest. If the place was robbed they might blame me; if they found out I had seen the men a failed to tell them.”
“Well, that gang would only be too glad to have the blame fall on some one else.”
Tom little knew how near the truth he had come in his chance expression, or how soon he himself was to fall under suspicion in connection with this same band of bad men.
“I’ll telephone to the president on my way home,” decided Ned, “and he can notify the watchman at the bank. But do you really expect to have your airship in shape to fly soon?”
“Oh, yes. Now that we have found out our mistake about the gas, the rest will be easy.”
“I think I’d like to take a trip in one myself, if it didn’t go too high,” ventured Ned.
“I’ll remember that, when we have ours completed,” promised his chum, “and I’ll take you for a spin.”
The boys talked for perhaps an hour longer, mostly about the airship, for it was the latest mechanical affair in which Tom was interested, and, naturally, foremost in his thoughts. Then Ned went home first, however, telephoning from Tom’s house to the bank president about having seen the suspicious men. That official thanked his young employee, and said he would take all necessary precautions. The telephone message was not sent until Mr. Swift was out of hearing, as Tom was determined that his father should have no unnecessary worry about the unscrupulous men. As it was, the news that the gang was out of jail had caused the aged inventor some alarm.
It was not without some anxiety that Tom arose the next morning, fearing he would hear news that the bank had been broken into, but no such alarming report circulated in Shopton. In fact having made some inquiries that day of Ned, he learned that no trace had been seen of the mysterious men. The police had been on the lookout, but they had seen nothing of them.
“Maybe, after all, they weren’t the same ones,” suggested Ned, when he paid Tom another visit the next night.
“Well, of course it’s possible that they weren’t,” admitted the young inventor. “I’d be very glad to think so. Even if they were, your encounter with them may have scared them off; and that would be a good thing.”
The next two weeks were busy ones for Tom and Mr. Sharp. Aided occasionally by Mr. Swift, and with Garret Jackson, the engineer, to lend a hand whenever needed, the aeronaut and the owner of the speedy Arrow made considerable progress on their airship.
“What is your father so busy over?” asked Mr. Sharp one day, when the new aluminum gas holder was about completed.
“I don’t know,” answered Tom, with a somewhat puzzled air. “He doesn’t seem to want to talk about it, even to me. He says it will revolutionize travel along a certain line, but whether he is working on an airship that will rival ours, or a new automobile, I can’t make out. He’ll tell us in good time. But when do you think we will finish the—well, I don’t know what to call it—I mean our aeroplane?”
“Oh, in about a month now. That’s so, though, we haven’t a name for it. But we’ll christen it after it’s completed. Now if you’ll tighten up some of those bolts I’ll get the gas generating apparatus in readiness for another test.”
A short description of the new airship may not be out of place now. It was built after plans Mr. Sharp had shown to Tom and his father soon after the thrilling rescue of the aeronaut from the blazing balloon over Lake Carlopa. The general idea of the airship was that of the familiar aeroplane, but in addition to the sustaining surfaces of the planes, there was an aluminum, cigar-shaped tank, holding a new and very powerful gas, which would serve to keep the ship afloat even when not in motion.
Two sets of planes, one above the other, were used, bringing the airship into the biplane class. There were also two large propellers, one in front and the other at the rear. These were carefully made, of different layers of wood “built up” as they are called, to make them stronger. They were eight feet in diameter, and driven by a twenty-cylinder, air-cooled, motor, whirled around at the rate of fifteen hundred revolutions a minute. When operated at full speed the airship was capable of making eighty miies an hour, against a moderate wind.
But if the use of the peculiarly-shaped planes and the gas container, with the secret but powerful vapor in it were something new in airship construction, so was the car in which the operator and travelers were to live during a voyage. It was a complete living room, with the engine and other apparatus, including that for generating the gas, in a separate compartment, and the whole was the combined work of Tom and Mr. Sharp. There were accommodations for five persons, with sleeping berths, a small galley or kitchen, where food could be prepared, and several easy chairs where the travelers could rest in comfort while skimming along high in the air, as fast as the fastest railroad train.
There was room enough to carry stores for a voyage of a week or more, and enough gas could be manufactured aboard the ship, in addition to that taken in the aluminum case before starting, to sustain the ship for two weeks. The engine, steering apparatus, and the gas machine were within easy reach and control of the pilot, who was to be stationed in a small room in the “bow” of the ship. An electric stove served to warm the interior of the car, and also provided means for cooking the food.
The airship could be launched either by starting it along the ground, on rubber-tired wheels, as is done in the case of the ordinary aeroplane, or it could be lifted by the gas, just as is done with a balloon. In short there were many novel features about the ship.
The gas test, which took place a few days later, showed that the young inventor and Mr. Sharp had made no
mistake this time. No explosion followed, the needle valve controlling the powerful vapor perfectly.
“Well,” remarked Mr. Sharp, one afternoon, “I think we shall put the ship together next week, Tom, and have a trial flight. We shall need a few more aluminum bolts, though, and if you don’t mind you might jump on your motor-cycle and run to Mansburg for them. Merton’s machine shop ought to have some.”
Mansburg was the nearest large city to Shopton, and Merton was a machinist who frequently did work for Mr. Swift.
“All right,” agreed Tom. “I’ll start now. How many will you need?”
“Oh, a couple of dozen.”
Tom started off, wheeling his cycle from the shed where it was kept. As he passed the building where the big frame of the airship, with the planes and aluminum bag had been assembled, he looked in.
“We’ll soon be flying through the clouds on your back,” he remarked, speaking to the apparatus as if it could understand. “I guess we’ll smash some records, too, if that engine works as well when it’s installed as it does now.”
Tom had purchased the bolts, and was on his way back with them, when, as he passed through one of the outlying streets of Mansburg, something went wrong with his motor-cycle. He got off to adjust it, finding that it was only a trifling matter, which he soon put right, when he was aware of a man standing, observing him. Without looking up at the man’s face, the young inventor was unpleasantly aware of a sharp scrutiny. He could hardly explain it, but it seemed as if the man had evil intentions toward him, and it was not altogether unexpected on Tom’s part, when, looking up, he saw staring at him, Anson Morse, the leader of the gang of men who had caused such trouble for him.
“Oh, it’s you; is it?” asked Morse, an ugly scowl on his face. “I thought I recognized you.” He moved nearer to Tom, who straightened up, and stood leaning on his wheel.
The Tom Swift Megapack Page 27