The Tom Swift Megapack

by Victor Appleton

  “Then you’re going to put several guns on the Mars?” asked Ned.

  “Yes, four quick-firers, at least, two on each side, and heavier guns at the bow and stern, to throw explosive shells in a horizontal or upward direction. For a downward direction we won’t need any guns, we can simply drop the bombs, or shells, from a release clutch.”

  “Drop them on other air craft?” Ned wanted to know.

  “Well, if it’s necessary, yes. Though I guess there won’t be much chance of doing that to a rival aeroplane or dirigible. But in flying over cities or forts, explosive bombs can be dropped very nicely. For use in attacking other air craft I am going to depend on my lateral fire, from the guns mounted on either beam, and in the bow and stern.”

  “You speak as though you, yourself, were going into a battle of the air,” said Ned.

  “No, I don’t believe I’ll go that far,” Tom replied. “Though, if the government wants my craft, I may have to go aloft and fire shots at targets for them to show them how things work.

  “Please don’t think that I am in favor of war, Ned,” went on Tom earnestly. “I hate it, and I wish the time would come when all nations would disarm. But if the other countries are laying themselves out to have aerial battleships, it is time the United States did also. We must not be left behind, especially in view of what is taking place in Europe.”

  “I suppose that’s right,” agreed Ned. “Have you any of your guns ready?”

  “Yes, all but the mounting of them on the supports aboard the Mars. I haven’t dared do that yet, and fire them, until I provided some means of taking up the recoil. Now I’m going to get right to work on that problem.”

  There was considerable detailed figuring and computation work ahead of Tom Swift, and I will not weary you by going into the details of higher mathematics. Even Ned lost interest after the start of the problem, though he was interested when Tom took down the door-check and began measuring the amount of force it would take up, computing it on scales and spring balances.

  Once this had been done, and Tom had figured just how much force could be expected to be taken up by a larger check, with stronger hydrostatic valves, the young inventor explained:

  “And now to see how much recoil force my guns develop!”

  “Are you really going to fire the guns?” asked Ned.

  “Surely,” answered Tom. “That’s the only way to get at real results. I’ll have the guns taken out and mounted in a big field. Then we’ll fire them, and measure the recoil.”

  “Well, that may be some fun,” spoke Ned, with a grin. “More fun than all these figures,” and he looked at the mass of details on Tom’s desk.

  This was the second or third day after the fire in the red shed, and in the interim Tom had been busy making computations. These were about finished. Meanwhile further investigation bad been made of clues leading to the origin of the blaze in the shed, but nothing had been learned.

  A photo-telephone had been installed near Eradicate’s quarters, in the hope that the mysterious stranger might keep his promise, and come to see about the mule. In that case something would have been learned about him. But, as Tom feared, the man did not appear.

  Ned was much interested in the guns, and, a little later, he helped Tom and Koku mount them in a vacant lot. The giant’s strength came in handy in handling the big parts.

  Mr. Swift strolled past, as the guns were being mounted for the preliminary test, and inquired what his son was doing.

  “It will never work, Tom, never!” declared the aged inventor, when informed. “You can’t take up those guns in your air craft, and fire them with any degree of safety.”

  “You wait, Dad,” laughed Tom. “You haven’t yet seen how the Newton hydrostatic recoil operates.”

  Ned smiled with pleasure at this.

  It took nearly a week to get all the guns mounted, for some of them required considerable work, and it was also necessary to attach gauges to them to register the recoil and pressure. In the meanwhile Tom had been in further communication with government experts who were soon to call on him to inspect the aerial warship, with a view to purchase.

  “When are they coming?” asked Ned, as he and Tom went out one morning to make the first test of the guns.

  “They will be here any day, now. They didn’t set any definite date. I suppose they want to take us unawares, to see that I don’t ‘frame-up’ any game on them. Well, I’ll be ready any time they come. Now, Koku, bring along those shells, and don’t drop any of them, for that new powder is freakish stuff.”

  “Me no drop any, Master,” spoke the giant, as he lifted the boxes of explosives in his strong arms.

  The largest gun was loaded and aimed at a distant hill, for Tom knew that if the recoil apparatus would take care of the excess force of his largest gun, the problem of the smaller ones would be easy to solve.

  “Here, Rad, where are you going?” Tom asked, as he noticed the colored man walking away, after having completed a task assigned to him.

  “Where’s I gwine, Massa Tom?”

  “Yes, Rad, that’s what I asked you.”

  “I—I’se gwine t’ feed mah mule, Boomerang,” said the colored man slowly. “It’s his eatin’ time, jest now, Massa Tom.”

  “Nonsense! It isn’t anywhere near noon yet.”

  “Yais, sab, Massa Tom, I knows dat,” said Eradicate, as he carefully edged away from the big gun, “but I’se done changed de eatin’ hours ob dat mule. He had a little touch ob indigestion de udder day, an’ I’se feedin’ him diff’rent now. So I guess as how yo’ll hab t’ ’scuse me now, Massa Tom.”

  “Oh, well, trot along,” laughed the young inventor. “I guess we won’t need you. Is everything all right there, Koku?”

  “All right, Master.”

  “Now, Ned, if you’ll stand here,” went on Tom, “and note the extreme point to which the hand on the pressure gauge goes, I’ll be obliged to you. Just jot it down on this pad.”

  “Here comes someone,” remarked the bank clerk, as he saw that his pencil was sharpened. He pointed to the field back of them.

  “It’s Mr. Damon,” observed Tom. “We’ll wait until he arrives. He’ll be interested in this.”

  “Bless my collar button, Tom! What’s going on?” asked the eccentric man, as he came up. “Has war been declared?”

  “Just practicing,” replied the young inventor. “Getting ready to put the armament on my aerial warship.”

  “Well, as long as I’m behind the guns I’m all right, I suppose?”

  “Perfectly,” Tom replied. “Now then, Ned, I think we’ll fire.”

  There was a moment of inspection, to see that nothing had been forgotten, and then the big gun was discharged. There was a loud report, not as heavy, though, as Ned had expected, but there was no puff of smoke, for Tom was using smokeless powder. Only a little flash of flame was observed.

  “Catch the figure, Ned!” Tom cried.

  “I have it!” was the answer. “Eighty thousand!”

  “Good! And I can build a recoil check that will take up to one hundred and twenty thousand pounds pressure. That ought to be margin of safety enough. Now we’ll try another shot.”

  The echoes of the first had hardly died away before the second gun was ready for the test. That, too, was satisfactory, and then the smaller ones were operated. These were not quite so satisfactory, as the recoil developed was larger, in proportion to their size, than Tom had figured.

  “But I can easily put a larger hydrostatic check on them,” he said. “Now, we’ll fire by batteries, and see what the total is.”

  Then began a perfect bombardment of the distant hillside, service charges being used, and explosive shells sent out so that dirt, stones and gravel flew in all directions. Danger signs and flags had been posted, and a cordon of Tom’s men kept spectators away from the hill, so no one would be in the danger zone.

  The young inventor was busy making some calculations after the last of the firing had bee
n completed. Koku was packing up the unfired shells, and Mr. Damon was blessing his ear-drums, and the pieces of cotton he had stuffed in to protect them, when a tall, erect man was observed strolling over the fields in the direction of the guns.

  “Somebody’s coming, Tom,” warned Ned.

  “Yes, and a stranger, too,” observed Tom. “I wonder if that can be Eradicate’s Frenchman?”

  But a look at the stranger’s face disproved that surmise. He had a frank and pleasant countenance, obviously American.

  “I beg your pardon,” he began, addressing everyone in general, “but I am looking for Tom Swift. I was told he was here.”

  “I am Tom Swift,” replied our hero.

  “Ah! Well, I am Lieutenant Marbury, with whom you had some correspondence recently about—”

  “Oh, yes, Lieutenant Marbury, of the United States Navy,” interrupted Tom. “I’m glad to see you,” he went on, holding out his hand. “We are just completing some tests with the guns. You called, I presume, in reference to my aerial warship?”

  “That is it—yes. Have you it ready for a trial flight?”

  “Well, almost. It can be made ready in a few hours. You see, I have been delayed. There was a fire in the plant.”

  “A fire!” exclaimed the officer in surprise. “How was that? We heard nothing of it in Washington.”

  “No, I kept it rather quiet,” Tom explained. “We had reason to suspect that it was a fire purposely set, in a shed where I kept a quantity of explosives.”

  “Ha!” exclaimed Lieutenant Marbury. “This fits in with what I have heard. And did you not receive warning?” he asked Tom.

  “Warning? No. Of what?”

  “Of foreign spies!” was the unexpected answer. “I am sorry. Some of our Secret Service men unearthed something of a plot against you, and I presumed you had been told to watch out. If you had, the fire might not have occurred. There must have been some error in Washington. But let me tell you now, Tom Swift—be on your guard!”

  CHAPTER VIII

  A SUSPECTED PLOT

  The officer’s words were so filled with meaning that Tom started. Ned Newton, too, showed the effect he felt.

  “Do you really mean that?” asked the young inventor, looking around to make sure his father was not present. On account of Professor Swift’s weak heart, Tom wished to spare him all possible worry.

  “I certainly do mean it,” insisted Lieutenant Marbury. “And, while I am rather amazed at the news of the fire, for I did not think the plotters would be so bold as that, it is in line with what I expected, and what we suspected in Washington.”

  “And that was—what?” asked Tom.

  “The existence of a well-laid plot, not only against our government, but against you!”

  “And why have they singled me out?” Tom demanded.

  “I might as well tell it from the beginning,” the officer went on. “As long as you have not received any official warning from Washington you had better hear the whole story. But are you sure you had no word?”

  “Well, now, I won’t be so sure,” Tom confessed. “I have been working very hard, the last two days, making some intricate calculations. I have rather neglected my mail, to tell you the truth.

  “And, come to think of it, there were several letters received with the Washington postmark. But, I supposed they had to do with some of my patents, and I only casually glanced over them. There was one letter, though, that I couldn’t make head or tail of.”

  “Ha! That was it!” cried the lieutenant. “It was the warning in cipher or code. I didn’t think they would neglect to send it to you.”

  “But what good would it do me if I couldn’t read it?” asked Tom.

  “You must also have received a method of deciphering the message,” the officer said. “Probably you overlooked that. The Secret Service men sent you the warning in code, so it would not be found out by the plotters, and, to make sure you could understand it, a method of translating the cipher was sent in a separate envelope. It is too bad you missed it.”

  “Yes, for I might have been on my guard,” agreed Tom. “The red shed might not have burned, but, as it was, only slight damage was done.”

  “Owing to the fact that Tom put the fire out with sand ballast from his dirigible!” cried Ned. “You should have seen it!”

  “I should have liked to be here,” the lieutenant spoke. “But, if I were you, Tom Swift, I would take means to prevent a repetition of such things.”

  “I shall,” Tom decided. “But, if we want to talk, we had better go to my office, where we can be more private. I don’t want the workmen to hear too much.”

  Now that the firing was over, a number of Tom’s men from the shops had assembled around the cannon. Most of them, the young inventor felt, could be trusted, but in so large a gathering one could never be sure.

  “Did you come on from Washington yesterday?” asked Tom, as he, Ned and the officer strolled toward the shed where was housed the aerial warship.

  “Yes, and I spent the night in New York. I arrived in town a short time ago, and came right on out here. At your house I was told you were over in the fields conducting experiments, so I came on here.”

  “Glad you did,” Tom said. “I’ll soon have something to show you, I hope. But I am interested in hearing the details of this suspected plot. Are you sure one exists?”

  “Perfectly sure,” was the answer. “We don’t know all the details yet, nor who are concerned in it, but we are working on the case. The Secret Service has several agents in the field.

  “We are convinced in Washington,” went on Lieutenant Marbury, when he, Tom and Ned were seated in the private office, “that foreign spies are at work against you and against our government.”

  “Why against me?” asked Tom, in wonder.

  “Because of the inventions you have perfected and turned over to Uncle Sam—notably the giant cannon, which rivals anything foreign European powers have, and the great searchlight, which proved so effective against the border smugglers. The success of those two alone, to say nothing of your submarine, has not only made foreign nations jealous, but they fear you—and us,” the officer went on.

  “Well, if they only take it out in fear—”

  “But they won’t!” interrupted the officer—”They are seeking to destroy those inventions. More than once, of late, we have nipped a plot just in time.”

  “Have they really tried to damage the big gun?” asked Tom, referring to one he had built and set up at Panama.

  “They have. And now this fire proves that they are taking other measures—they are working directly against you.”

  “Why, I wonder?”

  “Either to prevent you from making further inventions, or to stop you from completing your latest—the aerial warship.”

  “But I didn’t know the foreign governments knew about that,” Tom exclaimed. “It was a secret.”

  “Few secrets are safe from foreign Spies,” declared Lieutenant Marbury. “They have a great ferreting-out system on the other side. We are just beginning to appreciate it. But our own men have not been idle.”

  “Have they really learned anything?” Tom asked. “Nothing definite enough to warrant us in acting,” was the answer of the government man. “But we know enough to let us see that the plot is far-reaching.”

  “Are the French in it?” asked Ned impulsively.

  “The French! Why do you ask that?”

  “Tell him about Eradicate, and the man who wanted to buy the mule, Tom,” suggested Ned.

  Thereupon the young inventor mentioned the story told by Eradicate. He also brought out the fire-bomb, and explained his theory as to how it had operated to set the red shed ablaze.

  “I think you are right,” said Lieutenant Marbury. “And, as regards the French, I might say they are not the only nation banded to obtain our secrets—yours and the government’s!”

  “But I thought the French and the English were friendly toward us!” Ned excla
imed.

  “So they are, in a certain measure,” the officer went on. “And Russia is, too. But, in all foreign countries there are two parties, the war party, as it might be called, and the peace element.

  “But I might add that it is neither France, England, nor Russia that we must fear. It is a certain other great nation, which at present I will not name.”

  “And you think spies set this fire?”

  “I certainly do.”

  “But what measures shall I adopt against this plot?” Tom asked.

  “We will talk that over,” said Lieutenant Marbury. “But, before I go into details, I want to give you another warning. You must be very careful about—”

  A sudden knock on the door interrupted the speaker.

  CHAPTER IX

  THE RECOIL CHECK

  “Who is that?” asked Ned Newton, with a quick glance at his chum.

  “I don’t know,” Tom answered. “I left orders we weren’t to be disturbed unless it was something important.”

  “May be something has happened,” suggested the navy officer, “another fire, perhaps, or a—”

  “It isn’t a fire,” Tom answered. “The automatic alarm would be ringing before this in that case.”

  The knock was repeated. Tom went softly to the door and opened it quickly, to disclose, standing in the corridor, one of the messengers employed about the shops.

  “Well, what is it?” asked Tom a bit sharply.

  “Oh, if you please, Mr. Swift,” said the boy, “a man has applied for work at the main office, and you know you left orders there that if any machinists came along, we were to—”

  “Oh, so I did,” Tom exclaimed. “I had forgotten about that,” he went on to Lieutenant Marbury and Ned. “I am in need of helpers to rush through the finishing touches on my aerial warship, and I left word, if any applied, as they often do, coming here from other cities, that I wanted to see them. How many are there?” Tom asked of the messenger.

  “Two, this time. They both say they’re good mechanics.”

  “That’s what they all say,” interposed Tom, with a smile. “But, though they may be good mechanics in their own line, they need to have special qualifications to work on airships. Tell them to wait, Rodney,” Tom went on to the lad, “and I’ll see them presently.”