The Tom Swift Megapack

by Victor Appleton

  Tom had no desire to administer more than a deserved reward to the bully, but perhaps he did add a little for interest. At any rate Andy thought so.

  “You just wait!” he cried, as he limped off. “I’ll make you sorry for this.”

  “Oh, don’t go to any trouble on my account,” said Tom gently, as he put on his coat. But Andy did go to considerable trouble to be revenged on the young inventor, and whether be succeeded or not you may learn by reading the fourth book of this series, to be called “Tom Swift and His Submarine Boat; or, Under the Ocean for Sunken Treasure,” in which I shall relate the particulars of a voyage that was marvelous in the extreme.

  Tom reached home in a very pleasant frame of mind that afternoon. Things had turned out much better than he thought they would. A few weeks later the two bank robbers, who were found guilty, were sentenced to long terms, but their companions were not captured. Tom sent Sheriff Durkin a share of the reward, and the lad invested his own share in bank stock, after giving some to Mr. Sharp. Mr. Damon refused to accept any. As for Mr. Swift, once he saw matters straightened out, and his son safe, he resumed his work on his prize submarine boat, his son helping him.

  As for Tom, he alternated his spare time between trips in the airship and his motor-boat, and frequently a certain young lady from the Rocksmond Seminary was his companion. I think you know her name by this time. Now, for a while, we will take leave of Tom Swift and his friends, trusting to meet them again.

  TOM SWIFT AND HIS SUBMARINE BOAT

  CHAPTER ONE

  NEWS OF A TREASURE WRECK

  There was a rushing, whizzing, throbbing noise in the air. A great body, like that of some immense bird, sailed along, casting a grotesque shadow on the ground below. An elderly man, who was seated on the porch of a large house, started to his feet in alarm.

  “Gracious goodness! What was that, Mrs. Baggert?” he called to a motherly-looking woman who stood in the doorway. “What happened?”

  “Nothing much, Mr. Swift,” was the calm reply “I think that was Tom and Mr. Sharp in their airship, that’s all. I didn’t see it, but the noise sounded like that of the Red Cloud.”

  “Of course! To be sure!” exclaimed Mr. Barton Swift, the well-known inventor, as he started down the path in order to get a good view of the air, unobstructed by the trees. “Yes, there they are,” he added. “That’s the airship, but I didn’t expect them back so soon. They must have made good time from Shopton. I wonder if anything can be the matter that they hurried so?”

  He gazed aloft toward where a queerly-shaped machine was circling about nearly five hundred feet in the air, for the craft, after Swooping down close to the house, had ascended and was now hovering just above the line of breakers that marked the New Jersey seacoast, where Mr. Swift had taken up a temporary residence.

  “Don’t begin worrying, Mr. Swift,” advised Mrs. Baggert, the housekeeper. “You’ve got too much to do, if you get that new boat done, to worry.”

  “That’s so. I must not worry. But I wish Tom and Mr. Sharp would land, for I want to talk to them.”

  As if the occupants of the airship had heard the words of the aged inventor, they headed their craft toward earth. The combined aeroplane and dirigible balloon, a most wonderful traveler of the air, swung around, and then, with the deflection rudders slanted downward, came on with a rush. When near the landing place, just at the side of the house, the motor was stopped, and the gas, with a hissing noise, rushed into the red aluminum container. This immediately made the ship more buoyant and it landed almost as gently as a feather.

  No sooner had the wheels which formed the lower part of the craft touched the ground than there leaped from the cabin of the Red Cloud a young man.

  “Well, dad!” he exclaimed. “Here we are again, safe and sound. Made a record, too. Touched ninety miles an hour at times—didn’t we, Mr. Sharp?”

  “That’s what,” agreed a tall, thin, dark-complexioned man, who followed Tom Swift more leisurely in his exit from the cabin. Mr. Sharp, a veteran aeronaut, stopped to fasten guy ropes from the airship to strong stakes driven into the ground.

  “And we’d have done better, only we struck a hard wind against us about two miles up in the air, which delayed us,” went on Tom. “Did you hear us coming, dad?”

  “Yes, and it startled him,” put in Mrs. Baggert. “I guess he wasn’t expecting you.”

  “Oh, well, I shouldn’t have been so alarmed, only I was thinking deeply about a certain change I am going to make in the submarine, Tom. I was daydreaming, I think, when your ship whizzed through the air. But tell me, did you find everything all right at Shopton? No signs of any of those scoundrels of the Happy Harry gang having been around?” and Mr. Swift looked anxiously at his son.

  “Not a sign, dad,” replied Tom quickly. “Everything was all right. We brought the things you wanted. They’re in the airship. Oh, but it was a fine trip. I’d like to take another right out to sea.”

  “Not now, Tom,” said his father. “I want you to help me. And I need Mr. Sharp’s help, too. Get the things out of the car, and we’ll go to the shop.”

  “First I think we’d better put the airship away,” advised Mr. Sharp. “I don’t just like the looks of the weather, and, besides, if we leave the ship exposed we’ll be sure to have a crowd around sooner or later, and we don’t want that.”

  “No, indeed,” remarked the aged inventor hastily. “I don’t want people prying around the submarine shed. By all means put the airship away, and then come into the shop.”

  In spite of its great size the aeroplane was easily wheeled along by Tom and Mr. Sharp, for the gas in the container made it so buoyant that it barely touched the earth. A little more of the powerful vapor and the Red Cloud would have risen by itself. In a few minutes the wonderful craft, of which my readers have been told in detail in a previous volume, was safely housed in a large tent, which was securely fastened.

  Mr. Sharp and Tom, carrying some bundles which they had taken from the car, or cabin, of the craft, went toward a large shed, which adjoined the house that Mr. Swift had hired for the season at the seashore. They found the lad’s father standing before a great shape, which loomed up dimly in the semi-darkness of the building. It was like an immense cylinder, pointed at either end, and here and there were openings, covered with thick glass, like immense, bulging eyes. From the number of tools and machinery all about the place, and from the appearance of the great cylinder itself, it was easy to see that it was only partly completed.

  “Well, how goes it, dad?” asked the youth, as he deposited his bundle on a bench. “Do you think you can make it work?”

  “I think so, Tom. The positive and negative plates are giving me considerable trouble, though. But I guess we can solve the problem. Did you bring me the galvanometer?”

  “Yes, and all the other things,” and the young inventor proceeded to take the articles from the bundles he carried.

  Mr. Swift looked them over carefully, while Tom walked about examining the submarine, for such was the queer craft that was contained in the shed. He noted that some progress had been made on it since he had left the seacoast several days before to make a trip to Shopton, in New York State, where the Swift home was located, after some tools and apparatus that his father wanted to obtain from his workshop there.

  “You and Mr. Jackson have put on several new plates,” observed the lad after a pause.

  “Yes,” admitted his father. “Garret and I weren’t idle, were we, Garret?” and he nodded to the aged engineer, who had been in his employ for many years.

  “No; and I guess we’ll soon have her in the water, Tom, now that you and Mr. Sharp are here to help us,” replied Garret Jackson.

  “We ought to have Mr. Damon here to bless the submarine and his liver and collar buttons a few times,” put in Mr. Sharp, who brought in another bundle. He referred to an eccentric individual Who had recently made an airship voyage with himself and Tom, Mr. Damon’s peculiarity being to use conti
nually such expressions as: “Bless my soul! Bless my liver!”

  “Well, I’ll be glad when we can make a trial trip,” went on Tom. “I’ve traveled pretty fast on land with my motor-cycle, and we certainly have hummed through the air. Now I want to see how it feels to scoot along under water.”

  “Well, if everything goes well we’ll be in position to make a trial trip inside of a month,” remarked the aged inventor. “Look here, Mr. Sharp, I made a change in the steering gear, which I’d like you and Tom to consider.”

  The three walked around to the rear of the odd-looking structure, if an object shaped like a cigar can be said to have a front and rear, and the inventor, his son, and the aeronaut were soon deep in a discussion of the technicalities connected with underwater navigation.

  A little later they went into the house, in response to a summons from the supper bell, vigorously rung by Mrs. Baggert. She was not fond of waiting with meals, and even the most serious problem of mechanics was, in her estimation, as nothing compared with having the soup get cold, or the possibility of not having the meat done to a turn.

  The meal was interspersed with remarks about the recent airship flight of Tom and Mr. Sharp, and discussions about the new submarine. This talk went on even after the table was cleared off and the three had adjourned to the sitting-room. There Mr. Swift brought out pencil and paper, and soon he and Mr. Sharp were engrossed in calculating the pressure per square inch of sea water at a depth of three miles.

  “Do you intend to go as deep as that?” asked Tom, looking up from a paper he was reading.

  “Possibly,” replied his father; and his son resumed his perusal of the sheet.

  “Now,” went on the inventor to the aeronaut, “I have another plan. In addition to the positive and negative plates which will form our motive power, I am going to install forward and aft propellers, to use in case of accident.”

  “I say, dad! Did you see this?” suddenly exclaimed Tom, getting up from his chair, and holding his finger on a certain place in the page of the paper.

  “Did I see what?” asked Mr. Swift.

  “Why, this account of the sinking of the treasure ship.”

  “Treasure ship? No. Where?”

  “Listen,” went on Tom. “I’ll read it: ‘Further advices from Montevideo, Uruguay, South America, state that all hope has been given up of recovering the steamship Boldero, which foundered and went down off that coast in the recent gale. Not only has all hope been abandoned of raising the vessel, but it is feared that no part of the three hundred thousand dollars in gold bullion which she carried will ever be recovered. Expert divers who were taken to the scene of the wreck state that the depth of water, and the many currents existing there, due to a submerged shoal, preclude any possibility of getting at the hull. The bullion, it is believed, was to have been used to further the interests of a certain revolutionary faction, but it seems likely that they will have to look elsewhere for the sinews of war. Besides the bullion the ship also carried several cases of rifles, it is stated, and other valuable cargo. The crew and what few passengers the Boldero carried were, contrary to the first reports, all saved by taking to the boats. It appears that some of the ship’s plates were sprung by the stress in which she labored in a storm, and she filled and sank gradually.’ There! what do you think of that, dad?” cried Tom as he finished.

  “What do I think of it? Why, I think it’s too bad for the revolutionists, Tom, of course.”

  “No; I mean about the treasure being still on board the ship. What about that?”

  “Well, it’s likely to stay there, if the divers can’t get at it. Now, Mr. Sharp, about the propellers—”

  “Wait, dad!” cried Tom earnestly.

  “Why, Tom, what’s the matter?” asked Mr. Swift in some surprise.

  “How soon before we can finish our submarine?” went on Tom, not answering the question.

  “About a month. Why?”

  “Why? Dad, why can’t we have a try for that treasure? It ought to be comparatively easy to find that sunken ship off the coast of Uruguay. In our submarine we can get close up to it, and in the new diving suits you invented we can get at that gold bullion. Three hundred thousand dollars! Think of it, dad! Three hundred thousand dollars! We could easily claim all of it, since the owners have abandoned it, but we would be satisfied with half. Let’s hurry up, finish the submarine, and have a try for it.”

  “But, Tom, you forget that I am to enter my new ship in the trials for the prize offered by the United States Government.”

  “How much is the prize if you win it?” asked Tom.

  “Fifty thousand dollars.”

  “Well, here’s a chance to make three times that much at least, and maybe more. Dad, let the Government prize go, and try for the treasure. Will you?”

  Tom looked eagerly at his father, his eyes shining with anticipation. Mr. Swift was not a quick thinker, but the idea his son had proposed made an impression on him. He reached out his hand for the paper in which the young inventor had seen the account of the sunken treasure. Slowly he read it through. Then he passed it to Mr. Sharp.

  “What do you think of it?” he asked of the aeronaut

  “There’s a possibility,” remarked the balloonist “We might try for it. We can easily go three miles down, and it doesn’t lie as deeply as that, if this account is true. Yes, we might try for it. But we’d have to omit the Government contests.”

  “Will you, dad?” asked Tom again.

  Mr. Swift considered a moment longer.

  “Yes, Tom, I will,” he finally decided. “Going after the treasure will be likely to afford us a better test of the submarine than would any Government tests. We’ll try to locate the sunken Boldero.”

  “Hurrah!” cried the lad, taking the paper from Mr. Sharp and waving it in the air. “That’s the stuff! Now for a search for the submarine treasure!”

  CHAPTER TWO

  FINISHING THE SUBMARINE

  “What’s the matter?” cried Mrs. Baggert, the housekeeper, hurrying in from the kitchen, where she was washing the dishes. “Have you seen some of those scoundrels who robbed you, Mr. Swift? If you have, the police down here ought to—”

  “No, it’s nothing like that,” explained Mr. Swift. “Tom has merely discovered in the paper an account of a sunken treasure ship, and he wants us to go after it, down under the ocean.”

  “Oh, dear! Some more of Captain Kidd’s hidden hoard, I suppose?” ventured the housekeeper. “Don’t you bother with it, Mr. Swift. I had a cousin once, and he got set in the notion that he knew where that pirate’s treasure was. He spent all the money he had and all he could borrow digging for it, and he never found a penny. Don’t waste your time on such foolishness. It’s bad enough to be building airships and submarines without going after treasure.” Mrs. Baggert spoke with the freedom of an old friend rather than a hired housekeeper, but she had been in the family ever since Tom’s mother died, when he was a baby, and she had many privileges.

  “Oh, this isn’t any of Kidd’s treasure,” Tom assured her. “If we get it, Mrs. Baggert, I’ll buy you a diamond ring.”

  “Humph!” she exclaimed, as Tom began to hug her in boyish fashion. “I guess I’ll have to buy all the diamond rings I want, if I have to depend on your treasure for them,” and she went back to the kitchen.

  “Well,” went on Mr. Swift after a pause, “if we are going into the treasure-hunting business, Tom, we’ll have to get right to work. In the first place, we must find out more about this ship, and just where it was sunk.”

  “I can do that part,” said Mr. Sharp. “I know some sea captains, and they can put me on the track of locating the exact spot. In fact, it might not be a bad idea to take an expert navigator with us. I can manage in the air all right, but I confess that working out a location under water is beyond me.”

  “Yes, an old sea captain wouldn’t be a bad idea, by any means,” conceded Mr. Swift. “Well, if you’ll attend to that detail, Mr. Sharp, Tom,
Mr. Jackson and I will finish the submarine. Most of the work is done, however, and it only remains to install the engine and motors. Now, in regard to the negative and positive electric plates, I’d like your opinion, Tom.”

  For Tom Swift was an inventor, second in ability only to his father, and his advice was often sought by his parent on matters of electrical construction, for the lad had made a specialty of that branch of science.

  While father and son were deep in a discussion of the apparatus of the submarine, there will be an opportunity to make the reader a little better acquainted with them. Those of you who have read the previous volumes of this series do not need to be told who Tom Swift is. Others, however, may be glad to have a proper introduction to him.

  Tom Swift lived with his father, Barton Swift, in the village of Shopton, New York. The Swift home was on the outskirts of the town, and the large house was surrounded by a number of machine shops, in which father and son, aided by Garret Jackson, the engineer, did their experimental and constructive work. Their house was not far from Lake Carlopa, a fairly large body of water, on which Tom often speeded his motor-boat.

  In the first volume of this series, entitled “Tom Swift and His Motor-Cycle,” it was told how be became acquainted with Mr. Wakefield Damon, who suffered an accident while riding one of the speedy machines. The accident disgusted Mr. Damon with motor-cycles, and Tom secured it for a low price. He had many adventures on it, chief among which was being knocked senseless and robbed of a valuable patent model belonging to his father, which he was taking to Albany. The attack was committed by a gang known as the Happy Harry gang, who were acting at the instigation of a syndicate of rich men, who wanted to secure control of a certain patent turbine engine which Mr. Swift had invented.

  Tom set out in pursuit of the thieves, after recovering from their attack, and had a strenuous time before he located them.

  In the second volume, entitled “Tom Swift and His Motor-Boat,” there was related our hero’s adventures in a fine craft which was recovered from the thieves and sold at auction. There was a mystery connected with the boat, and for a long time Tom could not solve it. He was aided, however, by his chum, Ned Newton, who worked in the Shopton Bank, and also by Mr. Damon and Eradicate Sampson, an aged colored whitewasher, who formed quite an attachment for Tom.