“Take care of yourselves now,” advised the young aero-inventor, as he entered the cabin, finding it hard work to close the door against the terrific wind pressure.
“Why?” asked Ned.
“Because we are going to turn around and fight our way back against the gale. We may be turned topsy-turvy for a second or two.”
“Bless my shoe-horn!” cried Mr. Damon. “Do you mean upside down, Tom?”
“No, not that exactly. But watch out!”
Tom went forward to the pilot-house, followed by Ned and the lieutenant. The latter wanted to take official note of what happened. Tom relieved the man at the wheel, and gradually began to alter the direction of the craft.
At first no change was noticeable. So strong was the force of the wind that it seemed as though the Mars was going in the same direction. But Ned, noticing a direction compass on the wall, saw that the needle was gradually shifting.
“Hold fast!” cried Tom suddenly. Then with a quick shift of the rudder something happened. It seemed as though the Mars was trying to turn over, and slide along on her side, or as if she wanted to turn about and scud before the gale, instead of facing it. But Tom held her to the reverse course.
“Can you get her around?” cried the lieutenant above the roar of the gale.
“I—I’m going to!” muttered Tom through his set teeth.
Inch by inch he fought the big craft through the storm. Inch by inch the indicator showed the turning, until at last the grip of the gale was overcome.
“Now she’s headed right into it!” cried Tom in exultation. “She’s nosing right into it!”
And the Mars was. There was no doubt of it. She had succeeded, under Tom’s direction, in changing squarely about, and was now going against the wind, instead of with it.
“But we can’t expect to make much speed,” Tom said, as he signaled for more power, for he had lowered it somewhat in making the turn.
But Tom himself scarcely had reckoned on the force of his craft, for as the propellers whirled more rapidly the aerial warship did begin to make headway, and that in the teeth of a terrific wind.
“She’s doing it, Tom! She’s doing it!” cried Ned exultingly.
“I believe she is,” agreed the lieutenant.
“Well, so much the better,” Tom said, trying to be calm. “If she can keep this up a little while I’ll give her a rest and we’ll go up above the storm area, and beat back home.”
The Mars, so far, had met every test. Tom had decided on ten minutes more of gale-fighting, when from the tube that communicated with the engine-room came a shrill whistle.
“See what that is, Ned,” Tom directed.
“Yes,” called Ned into the mouthpiece. “What’s the matter?”
“Short circuit in the big motor,” was the reply. “We’ve got to run on storage battery. Send Tom back here! Something queer has happened!”
CHAPTER XX
THE STOWAWAYS
Ned repeated the message breathlessly.
“Short circuit!” gasped Tom. “Run on storage battery! I’ll have to see to that. Take the wheel somebody!”
“Wouldn’t it be better to turn about, and run before the wind, so as not to put too great a strain on the machinery?” asked Lieutenant Marbury.
“Perhaps,” agreed Tom. “Hold her this way, though, until I see what’s wrong!”
Ned and the government man took the wheel, while Tom hurried along the runway leading from the pilot-house to the machinery cabin. The gale was still blowing fiercely.
The young inventor cast a hasty look about the interior of the place as he entered. He sniffed the air suspiciously, and was aware of the odor of burning insulation.
“What happened?” he asked, noting that already the principal motive power was coming from the big storage battery. The shift had been made automatically, when the main motor gave out.
“It’s hard to say,” was the answer of the chief engineer. “We were running along all right, and we got your word to switch on more power, after the turn. We did that all right, and she was running as smooth as a sewing-machine, when, all of a sudden, she short-circuited, and the storage battery cut in automatically.”
“Think you put too heavy a load on the motor?” Tom asked.
“Couldn’t have been that. The shunt box would have taken that up, and the circuit-breaker would have worked, saving us a burn-out, and that’s what happened-a burn-out. The motor will have to be rewound.”
“Well, no use trying to fight this gale with the storage battery,” Tom said, after a moment’s thought. “We’ll run before it. That’s the easiest way. Then we’ll try to rise above the wind.”
He sent the necessary message to the pilot-house. A moment later the shift was made, and once more the Mars was scudding before the storm. Then Tom gave his serious attention to what had happened in the engine room.
As he bent over the burned-out motor, looking at the big shiny connections, he saw something that startled him. With a quick motion Tom Swift picked up a bar of copper. It was hot to the touch—so hot that he dropped it with a cry of pain, though he had let go so quickly that the burn was only momentary.
“What’s the matter?” asked Jerry Mound, Tom’s engineer.
“Matter!” cried Tom. “A whole lot is the matter! That copper bar is what made the short circuit. It’s hot yet from the electric current. How did it fall on the motor connections?”
The engine room force gathered about the young inventor. No one could explain how the copper bar came to be where it was. Certainly no one of Tom’s employees had put it there, and it could not have fallen by accident, for the motor connections were protected by a mesh of wire, and a hand would have to be thrust under them to put the bar in place. Tom gave a quick look at his men. He knew he could trust them—every one. But this was a queer happening.
For a moment Tom did not know what to think, and then, as the memory of that warning telegram came to him, he had an idea.
“Were any strangers in this cabin before the start was made?” he asked Mr. Mound.
“Not that I know of,” was the answer.
“Well, there may be some here now,” Tom said grimly. “Look about.”
But a careful search revealed no one. Yet the young inventor was sure the bar of copper, which had done the mischief of short-circuiting the motor, had been put in place deliberately.
In reality there was no danger to the craft, since there was power enough in the storage battery to run it for several hours. But the happening showed Tom he had still to reckon with his enemies.
He looked at the height gauge on the wall of the motor-room, and noted that the Mars was going up. In accordance with Tom’s instructions they were sending her above the storm area. Once there, with no gale to fight, they could easily beat their way back to a point above Shopton, and make the best descent possible.
And that was done while, under Tom’s direction, his men took the damaged motor apart, with a view to repairing it.
“What was it, Tom?” asked Ned, coming back to join his chum, after George Ventor, the assistant pilot, had taken charge of the wheel.
“I don’t exactly know, Ned,” was the answer. “But I feel certain that some of my enemies came aboard here and worked this mischief.”
“Your enemies came aboard?”
“Yes, and they must be here now. The placing of that copper bar proves it.”
“Then let’s make a search and find them, Tom. It must be some of those foreign spies.”
“Just what I think.”
But a more careful search of the craft than the one Tom had casually made revealed the presence of no one. All the crew and helpers were accounted for, and, as they had been in Tom’s service for some time, they were beyond suspicion. Yet the fact remained that a seemingly human agency had acted to put the main motor out of commission. Tom could not understand it.
“Well, it sure is queer,” observed Ned, as the search came to nothing.
&nb
sp; “It’s worse than queer,” declared Tom, “it’s alarming! I don’t know when I’ll be safe if we have ghosts aboard.”
“Ghosts?” repeated Ned.
“Well, when we can’t find out who put that bar in place I might as well admit it was a ghost,” spoke Tom. “Certainly, if it was done by a man, he didn’t jump overboard after doing it, and he isn’t here now. It sure is queer!”
Ned agreed with the last statement, at any rate.
In due time the Mars, having fought her way above the storm, came over Shopton, and then, the wind having somewhat died out, she fought her way down, and, after no little trouble, was housed in the hangar.
Tom cautioned his friends and workmen to say nothing to his father about the mysterious happening on board.
“I’ll just tell him we had a slight accident, and let it go at that,” Tom decided. “No use in causing him worry.”
“But what are you going to do about it?” asked Ned.
“I’m going to keep careful watch over the aerial warship, at any rate,” declared Tom. “If there’s a hidden enemy aboard, I’ll starve him out.”
Accordingly, a guard, under the direction of Koku, was posted about the big shed, but nothing came of it. No stranger was observed to sneak out of the ship, after it had been deserted by the crew. The mystery seemed deeper than ever.
It took nearly a week to repair the big motor, and, during this time, Tom put some improvements on the airship, and added the finishing touches.
He was getting it ready for the final government test, for the authorities in Washington had sent word that they would have Captain Warner, in addition to Lieutenant Marbury, make the final inspection and write a report.
Meanwhile several little things occurred to annoy Tom. He was besieged with applications from new men who wanted to work, and many of these men seemed to be foreigners. Tom was sure they were either spies of some European nations, or the agents of spies, and they got no further than the outer gate.
But some strangers did manage to sneak into the works, though they were quickly detected and sent about their business. Also, once or twice, small fires were discovered in outbuildings, but they were soon extinguished with little damage. Extra vigilance was the watchword.
“And yet, with all my precautions, they may get me, or damage something,” declared Tom. “It is very annoying!”
“It is,” agreed Ned, “and we must be doubly on the lookout.”
So impressed was Ned with the necessity for caution that he arranged to take his vacation at this time, so as to be on hand to help his chum, if necessary.
The Mars was nearing completion. The repaired motor was better than ever, and everything was in shape for the final test. Mr. Damon was persuaded to go along, and Koku was to be taken, as well as the two government officials.
The night before the trip the guards about the airship shed were doubled, and Tom made two visits to the place before midnight. But there was no alarm.
Consequently, when the Mars started off on her final test, it was thought that all danger from the spies was over.
“She certainly is a beauty,” said Captain Warner, as the big craft shot upward. “I shall be interested in seeing how she stands gun fire, though.”
“Oh, she’ll stand it,” declared Lieutenant Marbury. The trip was to consume several days of continuous flying, to test the engines. A large supply of food and ammunition was aboard.
It was after supper of the first day out, and our friends were seated in the main cabin laying out a program for the next day, when sudden yells came from a part of the motor cabin devoted to storage. Koku, who had been sent to get out a barrel of oil, was heard to shout.
“What’s up?” asked Tom, starting to his feet. He was answered almost at once by more yells.
“Oh, Master! Come quickly!” cried the giant. “There are many men here. There are stowaways aboard!”
CHAPTER XXI
PRISONERS
For a moment, after hearing Koku’s reply, neither Tom nor his friends spoke. Then Ned, in a dazed sort of way, repeated:
“Stowaways!”
“Bless my—” began Mr. Damon, but that was as far as he got.
From the engine compartment, back of the amidship cabin, came a sound of cries and heavy blows. The yells of Koku could be heard above those of the others.
Then the door of the cabin where Tom Swift and his friends were was suddenly burst open, and seven or eight men threw themselves within. They were led by a man with a small, dark mustache and a little tuft of whiskers on his chin—an imperial. He looked the typical Frenchman, and his words, snapped out, bore out that belief.
What he said was in French, as Tom understood, though he knew little of that language. Also, what the Frenchman said produced an immediate result, for the men following him sprang at our friends with overwhelming fierceness.
Before Tom, Ned, Captain Warner, Mr. Damon or Lieutenant Marbury could grasp any weapon with which to defend themselves, had their intentions been to do so, they were seized.
Against such odds little could be done, though our friends did not give up without a struggle.
“What does this mean?” angrily demanded Tom Swift. “Who are you? What are you doing aboard my craft? Who are—”
His words were lost in smothered tones, for one of his assailants put a heavy cloth over his mouth, and tied it there, gagging him. Another man, with a quick motion, whipped a rope about Tom’s hands and feet, and he was soon securely bound.
In like manner the others were treated, and, despite the struggles of Mr. Damon, the two government men and Ned, they were soon put in a position where they could do nothing—helplessly bound, and laid on a bench in the main cabin, staring blankly up at the ceiling. Each one was gagged so effectively that he could not utter more than a faint moan.
Of the riot of thoughts that ran through the heads of each one, I leave you to imagine.
What did it all mean? Where had the strange men come from? What did they mean by thus assaulting Tom and his companions? And what had happened to the others of the crew—Koku, Jerry Mound, the engineer, and George Ventor, the assistant pilot?
These were only a few of the questions Tom asked himself, as he lay there, bound and helpless. Doubtless Mr. Damon and the others were asking themselves similar questions.
One thing was certain—whatever the stowaways, as Koku had called them, had done, they had not neglected the Mars, for she was running along at about the same speed, though in what direction Tom could not tell. He strained to get a view of the compass on the forward wall of the cabin, but he could not see it.
It had been a rough-and-tumble fight, by which our friends were made prisoners, but no one seemed to have been seriously, or even slightly, hurt. The invaders, under the leadership of the Frenchman, were rather ruffled, but that was all.
Pantingly they stood in line, surveying their captives, while the man with the mustache and imperial smiled in a rather superior fashion at the row of bound ones. He spoke in his own tongue to the men, who, with the exception of one, filed out, going, as Tom and the others could note, to the engine-room in the rear.
“I hope I have not had to hurt any of you,” the Frenchman observed, with sarcastic politeness. “I regret the necessity that caused me to do this, but, believe me, it was unavoidable.”
He spoke with some accent, and Tom at once decided this was the same man who had once approached Eradicate. He also recognized him as the man he had seen in the woods the day of the outing.
“He’s one of the foreign spies,” thought Tom “and he’s got us and the ship, too. They were too many for us!”
Tom’s anxiety to speak, to hold some converse with the captor, was so obvious that the Frenchman said:
“I am going to treat you as well as I can under the circumstances. You and your other friends, who are also made prisoners, will be allowed to be together, and then you can talk to your hearts’ content.”
The other man, who had r
emained with the evident ringleader of the stowaways, asked a question, in French, and he used the name La Foy.
“Ah!” thought Tom. “This is the leader of the gang that attacked Koku in the shop that night. They have been waiting their chance, and now they have made good. But where did they come from? Could they have boarded us from some other airship?”
Yet, as Tom asked himself that question, he knew it could hardly have been possible. The men must have been in hiding on his own craft, they must have been, as Koku had cried out—stowaways—and have come out at a preconcerted signal to overpower the aviators.
“If you will but have patience a little longer,” went on La Foy, for that was evidently the name of the leader, “you will all be together. We are just considering where best to put you so that you will not suffer too much. It is quite a problem to deal with so many prisoners, but we have no choice.”
The two Frenchmen conversed rapidly in their own language for a few minutes, and then there came into the cabin another of the men who had helped overpower Tom and his friends. What he told La Foy seemed to give that individual satisfaction, for he smiled.
“We are going to put you all together in the largest storeroom, which is partly empty,” La Foy said. “There you will be given food and drink, and treated as well as possible under the circumstances. You will also be unbound, and may converse among yourselves. I need hardly point out,” he went on, “that calling for help will be useless. We are a mile or so in the air, and have no intention of descending,” and he smiled mockingly.
“They must know how to navigate my aerial warship,” thought Tom. “I wonder what their game is, anyhow?”
Night had fallen, but the cabin was aglow with electric lights. The foreigners in charge of the Mars seemed to know their way about perfectly, and how to manage the big craft. By the vibration Tom could tell that the motor was running evenly and well.
“But what happened to the others—to Mound, Ventor and Koku?” wondered Tom.
A moment later several of the foreigners entered. Some of them did not look at all like Frenchmen, and Tom was sure one was a German and another a Russian.
“This will be your prison—for a while,” said La Foy significantly, and Tom wondered how long this would be the case. A sharp thought came to him—how long would they be prisoners? Did not some other, and more terrible, fate await them?
The Tom Swift Megapack Page 228