The arrival of several policemen, who were attracted by the crowd, served to keep the curious ones back away from theButterfly, or the men, boys and women (for there were a number of the latter in the throng) might have caused serious trouble.
Tom made a hasty examination of the motor, and, having satisfied himself that only a minor difficulty had caused it to stop, he decided to put the monoplane in some safe place, and proceed to Mr. Fenwick's house.
The lad was just asking one of the officers if the air craft could not be put in one of the grandstands which surrounded the field, when a voice on the outskirts of the crowd excitedly exclaimed:
"Let me pass, please. I want to see that airship. I'm building one myself, and I need all the experience I can get. Let me in, please."
A man pushed his way into the crowd, and wormed his way to where Tom and Mr. Damon stood. At the sight of him, the eccentric individual cried out:
"Why bless my pocket-knife! If it isn't Mr. Fenwick!"
"Mr. Fenwick?" gasped Tom.
"Yes. The inventor we came to see!"
At the same moment the newcomer cried out:
"Wakefield Damon!"
"That's who I am," answered Tom's friend, "and let me introduce you to Mr. Swift, the inventor of more machines than I can count. He and I were coming to see you, when we had a slight accident, and we landed here. But that didn't matter, for we intended to land here anyhow, as I knew it was near your house. Only we had to vol-plane back to earth, and I can't say that I'd care for that, as a steady diet. Bless my radiator, but I'm glad we've arrived safely."
"Did you come all the way from your home in that?" asked Mr. Fenwick of Tom, as he shook hands with him, and nodded at the monoplane.
"Oh, yes. It's not much of a trip."
"Well, I hope my airship will do as well. But something seems to be wrong with it, and I have hopes that you can help me discover what it is, I know your father, and I have heard much of your ability. That is why I requested your aid."
"I'm afraid I've been much overrated," spoke Tom, modestly, "but I'll do all I can for you. I must now leave my monoplane in a safe place, however."
"I'll attend to that," Mr. Fenwick hastened to assure him. "Leave it to me."
By this time a lieutenant of police, in charge of several reserve officers, had arrived on the scene, for the crowd was now very large, and, as Mr. Fenwick knew this official, he requested that Tom's machine be protected from damage. It was arranged that it could be stored in a large, empty shed, and a policeman would be left on guard. Then, seeing that it was all right, Tom, Mr. Damon and Mr. Fenwick started for the latter's house.
"I am very anxious to show you theWhizzer," said Mr. Fenwick, as they walked along.
"TheWhizzer?" repeated Tom, wonderingly.
"Yes, that's what I call my electric airship. It hasn't 'whizzed' any to speak of yet, but I have hopes that it will, now that you are here to help me. We will take one of these taxicabs, and soon be at my house. I was out for a stroll, when I saw your monoplane coming down, and I hastened to Franklin Field to see it."
The three entered an automobile, and were soon being driven to the inventor's home. A little later he led them out to a big shed which occupied nearly all of a large lot, in back of Mr. Fenwick's house.
"Does it take up all that room?" asked Tom.
"Oh, yes, theWhizzeris pretty good size. There she is!" cried Mr. Fenwick proudly, as he threw open the doors of the shed, and Tom and Mr. Damon, looking in, saw a large triplane, with a good-sized gas bag hovering over it, and a strange collection of rudders, wings and planes sticking out from either side. Amidships was an enclosed car, or cabin, and a glimpse into it served to disclose to the young inventor a mass of machinery.
"There she is! That's theWhizzer!" cried Mr. Fenwick, with pride in his voice. "What do you think of her, Tom Swift?"
Tom did not immediately answer. He looked dubiously at the electric airship and shrugged his shoulders. It seemed to him, at first glance, that, it would never sail.
"Well, what do you think of it?" asked Mr. Fenwick again, as Tom walked all about the electric airship, still without speaking.
"It's big, certainly," remarked the lad.
"Bless my shoe horn! I should say it was!" burst out Mr. Damon. "It's larger than yourRed Cloud, Tom."
"But will it go? That's what I want to know," insisted the inventor. "Do you think it will fly, Tom? I haven't dared to try it yet, though a small model which I made floated in the air for some time. But it wouldn't move, except as the wind blew it."
"It would be hard to say, without a careful examination, whether this large one will fly or not," answered Tom.
"Then give it a careful examination," suggested Mr. Fenwick. "I'll pay you well for your time and trouble."
"Oh if I can help a fellow inventor, and assist in making a new model of airship fly, I'm only too glad to do it without pay," retorted Tom, quickly. "I didn't come here for that. Suppose we go in the cabin, and look at the motor. That's the most important point, if your airship is to navigate."
There was certainly plenty of machinery in the cabin of theWhizzer. Most of it was electrical, for on that power Mr. Fenwick intended to depend to sail through space. There was a new type of gasolene engine, small but very powerful, and this served to operate a dynamo. In turn, the dynamo operated an electrical motor, as Mr. Fenwick had an idea that better, and more uniform, power could be obtained in this way, than from a gasolene motor direct. One advantage which Tom noticed at once, was that theWhizzerhad a large electric storage battery.
This was intended to operate the electric motor in case of a break to the main machinery, and it seemed a good idea. There were various other apparatuses, machines, and appliances, the nature of which Tom could not readily gather from a mere casual view.
"Well, what's your opinion, now that you have seen the motor?" asked Mr. Fenwick, anxiously.
"I'd have to see it in operation," said Tom.
"And you shall, right after dinner," declared the inventor. "I'd like to start it now, and hear what you have to say, but I'm not so selfish as that. I know you must be hungry after your trip from Shopton, as they say aeroplaning gives one an appetite."
"I don't know whether it's that or not," answered Tom with a laugh, "but I am certainly hungry."
"Then we'll postpone the trial until after dinner. It must be ready by this time, I think," said Mr. Fenwick, as he led the way back to the house. It was magnificently furnished, for the inventor was a man of wealth, and only took up aeroplaning as a "fad." An excellent dinner was served, and then the three returned once more to the shed where theWhizzerwas kept.
"Shall I start the motor in here?" asked Mr. Fenwick, when he had summoned several of the machinists whom he employed, to aid himself and the young inventor.
"It would be better if we could take it outside," suggested Tom, "yet a crowd is sure to gather, and I don't like to work in a mob of people."
"Oh, we can easily get around that," said Mr. Fenwick. "I have two openings to my aeroplane shed. We can take theWhizzerout of the rear door, into a field enclosed by a high fence. That is where I made all my trials, and the crowd couldn't get in, though some boys did find knot-holes and use them. But I don't mind that. The only thing that bothers me is that I can't make theWhizzergo up, and if it won't go up, it certainly won't sail. That's my difficulty, and I hope you can remedy it, Tom Swift."
"I'll do the best I can. But let's get the airship outside."
This was soon accomplished, and in the open lot Tom made a thorough and careful examination of the mechanism. The motor was started, and the propellers, for there were two, whirled around at rapid speed.
Tom made some tests and calculations, at which he was an expert, and applied the brake test, to see how much horse power the motor would deliver.
"I think there is one trouble that we will have to get over," he finally said to Mr. Fenwick.
"What is that?"
"The motor is not quite powerful enough because of the way in which you have it geared up. I think by changing some of the cogs, and getting rid of the off-set shaft, also by increasing the number of revolutions, and perhaps by using a new style of carburetor, we can get more speed and power."
"Then we'll do it!" cried Mr. Fenwick, with enthusiasm. "I knew I hadn't got everything just right. Do you think it will work after that?"
"Well," remarked Tom, hesitatingly, "I think the arrangement of the planes will also have to be changed. It will take quite some work, but perhaps, after a bit, we can get theWhizzerup in the air."
"Can you begin work at once?" asked the inventor, eagerly.
Tom shook his head.
"I can't stay long enough on this trip," he said. "I promised father I would be back by to-morrow at the latest, but I will come over here again, and arrange to stay until I have done all I can. I need to get some of my special tools, and then, too, you will require some other supplies, of which I will give you a list. I hope you don't mind me speaking in this way, Mr. Fenwick, as though I knew more about it than you do," added Tom, modestly.
"Not a bit of it!" cried the inventor heartily. "I want the benefit of your advice and experience, and I'll do just as you say. I hope you can come back soon."
"I'll return the first of the week," promised Tom, "and then we'll see what can be done. Now I'll go over the whole ship once more, and see what I need. I also want to test the lifting capacity of your gas bag."
The rest of the day was a busy one for our hero. With the aid of Mr. Damon and the owner of theWhizzer, he went over every point carefully. Then, as it was too late to attempt the return flight to Shopton, he telegraphed his father, and he and Mr. Damon remained over night with Mr. Fenwick.
In the morning, having written out a list of the things that would be needed, Tom went out to Franklin Field, and repaired his own monoplane. It was found that one of the electric wires connected with the motor had broken, thus cutting off the spark. It was soon repaired, and, in the presence of a large crowd, Tom and Mr. Damon started on their return flight.
"Do you think you can make theWhizzerwork, Tom?" asked Mr. Damon, as they were flying high over Philadelphia.
"I'm a little dubious about it," was the reply. "But after I make some changes I may have a different opinion. The whole affair is too big and clumsy, that's the trouble; though the electrical part of it is very good."
Shopton was reached without incident, in about three hours, and there was no necessity, this time, of vol-planing back to earth. After a short rest, Tom began getting together a number of special tools and appliances, which he proposed taking back to Philadelphia with him.
The young inventor made another trip to Mr. Fenwick's house the first of the following week. He went by train this time, as he had to ship his tools, and Mr. Damon did not accompany him. Then, with the assistance of the inventor of theWhizzer, and several of his mechanics, Tom began making the changes on the airship.
"Do you think you can make it fly?" asked Mr. Fenwick, anxiously, after several days of labor.
"I hope so," replied our hero, and there was more confidence in his tone than there had been before. As the work progressed, he began to be more hopeful. "I'll make a trial flight, anyhow, in a few days," he added.
"Then I must send word to Mr. Damon," decided Mr. Fenwick. "He wants to be on hand to see it, and, if possible, go up; so he told me."
"All right," assented Tom. "I only hope it does go up," he concluded, in a low tone.
During the following week, Tom was kept busy over the airship. He made many important changes, and one of these was to use a new kind of gas in the balloon bag. He wanted a gas with a greater lifting power than that of the ordinary illuminating vapor which Mr. Fenwick had used.
"Well," remarked Tom, as he came from the airship shed one afternoon, "I think we can give it a try-out, Mr. Fenwick, in a few days more. I shall have to go back to Shopton to get some articles I need, and when I come back I will bring Mr. Damon with me, and we will see what theWhizzercan do."
"Do you mean we will make a trial flight?"
"Yes."
"For how long a distance?"
"It all depends on how she behaves," answered Tom, with a smile. "If possible, we'll make a long flight."
"Then I'll tell you what I'm going to do," went on the inventor, "I'm going to put aboard a stock of provisions, and some other supplies and stores, in case we are two or three days in the air."
"It might not be a bad plan," agreed Tom, "though I hardly think we will be gone as long as that."
"Well, being out in the air always makes me hungry," proceeded Mr. Fenwick, "so I'm going to take plenty of food along."
The time was to come, and that very soon, when this decision of the inventor of theWhizzerstood the adventurers in good stead.
Tom returned to Shopton the next day, and sent word to have Mr. Damon join him in time to go back to the Quaker City two days later.
"But why don't you start right back to Philadelphia to-morrow," asked Mr. Swift of his son.
"Because," answered Tom, and that was all the reason he would give, though had any one seen him reading a certain note a few minutes before that, which note was awaiting him on his arrival from the Quaker City, they would not have wondered at his decision.
The note was brief. It merely said:
"Won't you come, and have some apple turnovers? The new cook is a treasure, and the girls are anxious to meet you."
It was signed: Mary Nestor.
"I think I could enjoy some apple turnovers," remarked Tom, with a smile.
Having gotten ready the few special appliances he wished to take back to Philadelphia with him, Tom went, that evening, to call on Miss Nestor. True to her promise, the girl had a big plate full of apple turnovers, which she gaily offered our hero on his arrival, and, on his laughing declination to partake of so many, she ushered him into a room full of pretty girls, saying:
"They'll help you eat them, Tom. Girls, here is Mr. Swift, who doesn't mind going up in the air or under the ocean, or even catching runaway horses," by which last she referred to the time Tom saved her life, and first made her acquaintance.
As for the young inventor, he gave a gasp, almost as if he had plunged into a bath of icy water, at the sight of so many pretty faces staring at him. He said afterward that he would rather have vol-planed back to earth from a seven-mile height, than again face such a battery of sparkling eyes.
But our hero soon recovered himself, and entered into the merriment of the evening, and, before he knew it he was telling Miss Nestor and her attractive guests something of his exploits.
"But I'm talking altogether too much about myself." he said, finally. "How is the new cook Miss Nestor; and have you heard from your father and mother since they sailed on theResolutefor the West Indies?"
"As to the new cook, she is a jewel of the first water," answered Miss Nestor. "We all like her, and she is anxious for another ride in a taxicab, as she calls your auto."
"She shall have it," declared Tom, "for those are the best apple turnovers I ever ate."
"I'll tell her so," declared Mary. "She'll appreciate it coming from an inventor of your ability."
"Have you heard from your parents?" asked Tom, anxious to change the subject.
"Oh, yes. I had a wire to-day. They stopped at St. Augustine to let me know they were having a glorious time aboard the yacht. Mr. Hosbrook, the owner, is an ideal host, mamma said. They are proceeding directly to the West Indies, now. I do hope they will arrive safely. They say there are bad storms down there at this time of year."
"Perhaps, if they are shipwrecked, Mr. Swift will go to their rescue in one of his airships, or a submarine," suggested Mabel Jackson, one of the several pretty girls.
"Oh, I hope he doesn't have to!" exclaimed Mary. "Don't speak of shipwrecks! It makes me shudder," and she seemed unduly alarmed.
"Of course they won't have any trouble," asserted Tom, confidently, more to reassure Miss Nestor, than from any knowledge he possessed; "but if they do get cast away on a desert island, I'll certainly go to their rescue," he added.
It was late when Tom started for home that night, for the society of Miss Nestor and her friends made the time pass quickly. He promised to call again, and try some more samples of the new cook's culinary art, as soon as he had gotten Mr. Fenwick's airship in shape for flying.
As, later that night, the young inventor came in sight of his home, and the various buildings and shops surrounding it, his first glance was toward the shed which contained his monoplane,Butterfly. That little craft was Tom's pet. It had not cost him anything like as much as had his other inventions, either in time or money, but he cared more for it than for his big airship,Red Cloud. This was principally because theButterflywas so light and airy, and could be gotten ready so quickly for a flight across country. It was capable of long endurance, too, for an extra large supply of gasolene and oil was carried aboard.
So it was with rather a start of surprise that Tom saw a light in the structure where theButterflywas housed.
"I wonder if dad or Mr. Jackson can be out there?" he mused. "Yet, I don't see why they should be. They wouldn't be going for a flight at night. Or perhaps Mr. Damon arrived, and is out looking it over."
A moment's reflection, however, told Tom that this last surmise could not be true, since the eccentric man had telegraphed, saying he would not arrive until the next day.
"Somebody's out there, however," went on Tom, "and I'm going to see who it is. I hope it isn't Eradicate monkeying with the monoplane. He's very curious, and he might get it out of order."
Tom increased his pace, and moved swiftly but softly toward the shed. If there was an intruder inside he wanted to surprise him. There were large windows to the place, and they would give a good view of the interior. As Tom approached, the light within flickered, and moved to and fro.
Tom reached one of the casements, and peered in. He caught a glimpse of a moving figure, and he heard a peculiar ripping sound. Then, as he sprang toward the front door, the light suddenly went out, and the young inventor could hear some one running from the shop.
"They've seen me, and are trying to get away," thought the lad. "I must catch them!"
He fairly leaped toward the portal, and, just as he reached it, a figure sprang out. So close was Tom that the unknown collided with him, and our hero went over on his back. The other person was tossed back by the force of the impact, but quickly recovered himself, and dashed away.
Not before, however, Tom had had a chance to glance at his face, and, to the chagrin of the young inventor, he recognized, by the dim light of a crescent moon, the countenance of Andy Foger! If additional evidence was needed Tom fully recognized the form as that of the town bully.
"Hold on there, Andy Foger!" shouted the young inventor. "What are you doing in my shed? What right have you in there? What did you do?"
Back came the answer through the night:
"I told you I'd get square with you, and I've done it," and then Andy's footsteps died away, while a mocking laugh floated back to Tom. What was Andy's revenge?
For a moment, Tom gazed after the fleeting figure of the cowardly bully. He was half-minded to give pursuit, and then, realizing that he could find Andy later if he wanted him, the young inventor decided his best plan would be to see what damage had been done. For that damage would follow Andy's secret visit to the shop, Tom was certain.
Nor was his surmise wrong. Stepping into the building, the lad switched on the lights, and he could not repress an exclamation of chagrin as he looked toward his trim little monoplane, theButterfly.
Now it was aButterflywith broken wings, for Andy had slashed the canvas of the planes in a score of places.
"The scoundrel!" growled Tom. "I'll make him suffer for this! He's all but ruined my aeroplane."
Tom walked around his pet machine. As he came in front, and saw the propeller, he gave another exclamation. The fine wooden blades of several layers, gracefully curved, which had cost him so much in time and labor to build up, and then fashion to the right shape, had been hacked, and cut with an axe. The propeller was useless!
"More of Andy's work," murmured Tom. "This is about the worst yet!"
There came over him a feeling of great despondency, which was succeeded by a justifiable rage. He wanted to take after the bully, and give him a merciless beating. Then a calmer mood came over Tom.
"After all, what's the use?" he reasoned. "Whipping Andy wouldn't mend theButterfly. She's in bad shape, but I can repair her, when I get time. Luckily, he didn't meddle with the engine. That's all right." A hasty examination had shown this. "I guess I won't do anything now," went on Tom. "I'll have my hands full getting Mr. Fenwick's airship to run. After that I can come back here and fix up my own. It's a good thing I don't have to depend on her for making the trip to Philadelphia. PoorButterfly! you sure are in a bad way," and Tom felt almost as if he was talking to some living creature, so wrapped up was he in his trim little monoplane.
After another disheartening look at his air craft, the young inventor started to leave the shop. He looked at a door, the fastening of which Andy had broken to gain admittance.
"I should have had the burglar alarm working, and this would never have happened," reasoned Tom. All the buildings were arranged so that if any one entered them after a certain hour, an alarm would ring in the house. But of late, the alarm had not been set, as Tom and his father were not working on any special inventions that needed guarding. It was due to this oversight that Andy was able to get in undetected.
"But it won't happen again," declared Tom, and he at once began connecting the burglar-apparatus. He went into the house, and told his father and the engineer what had occurred. They were both indignant, and the engineer declared that he would sleep with one eye open all night, ready to respond to the first alarm.
"Oh, there's no danger of Andy coming back right away," said Tom. "He's too frightened. I wouldn't be surprised if he disappeared for a time. He'll be thinking that I'm after him."
This proved true, as Andy had left town next morning, and to all inquiries his mother said he had gone to visit relatives. She was not aware of her son's meanness, and Tom did not tell her.
Mr. Damon arrived from his home in Waterfield that day, and, with many "blessings," wanted to know if Tom was ready for the trial of the electrical airship.
"Yes, we'll leave for Philadelphia to-morrow," was the answer.
"Are we going in theButterfly? Bless my watch chain, but I like that little machine!"
"It will be some time before you again have a flight in her," said Tom, sorrowfully, as he told of Andy's act of vandalism.
"Why, bless my individuality!" cried Mr. Damon, indignantly. "I never heard of such a thing! Never!"
It did little good to talk of it, however, and Tom wanted to forget about it. He wished he had time to repair the monoplane before he left home, but there was much to do to get ready for the trial of theWhizzer.
"When will you be back, Tom?" asked Mr. Swift, as his son and Mr. Damon departed for the Quaker City the following morning.
"Hard to say, dad. If I can make a long flight in theWhizzerI'll do so. I may even drop down here and pay you a visit. But if I find there are many more changes to make in her construction, which is more than likely, I can't say when I'll return. I'll keep you posted, however, by writing."
"Can't you arrange to send me some wireless messages?" asked the older inventor, with a smile.
"I could, if I had thought to rig up the apparatus on Mr. Fenwick's airship," was the reply. "I'll hardly have time to do it now, though."
"Send wireless messages from an aeroplane?" gasped Mr. Damon. "Bless my gizzard! I never heard of such a thing!"
"Oh, it can be done," Tom assured him. And this was a fact. Tom had installed a wireless apparatus on hisRed Cloudrecently, and it is well known that several of the modern biplanes can send wireless messages. The crossing and bracing wires of the frame are used for sending wires, and in place of ground conductors there are trailers which hang below the aeroplane. The current is derived directly from the engine, and the remaining things needed are a small step-up transformer, a key and a few other small parts. Tom had gone a step farther than this, and had also arranged to receive wireless messages, though few modern aeroplanes are thus equipped as yet.
But, of course, there was no time now to install a wireless apparatus on Mr. Fenwick's craft. Tom thought he would be lucky if he got theWhizzerto make even a short flight.
"Well, let me hear from you when you can," requested Mr. Swift, and Tom promised. It was some time after that, and many strange things happened before Tom Swift again communicated with his father, at any length.
The young inventor had bidden farewell to Miss Nestor the night previous. She stated that she had a message that day from her parents aboard theResolute, which spoke a passing steamer. Mr. and Mrs. Nestor, and the other guests of Mr. Hosbrook were well, and anticipated a fine time on reaching the West Indies.
Tom now said good-by to his father, the housekeeper and Mr. Jackson, not forgetting, of course, Eradicate Sampson.
"Don't let Andy Foger come sneaking around here, Rad," cautioned the young inventor.
"'Deed an' I won't!" exclaimed the colored man. "Ef he do, I'll hab Boomerang kick him t' pieces, an' den I'll whitewash him so his own folks won't know him! Oh, don't you worry, Massa Tom. Dat Andy won't do no funny business when I'm around!"
Tom laughed, and started for the station with Mr. Damon. They arrived in Philadelphia that afternoon, the trip being very slow, as compared with the one made by the monoplane. They found Mr. Fenwick anxiously awaiting them, and Tom at once started work on the airship.
He kept at it until late that night, and resumed early the next morning. Many more changes and adjustments were made, and that afternoon, the young inventor said:
"I think we'll give it a try-out, Mr. Fenwick."
"Do you mean make a flight?"
"Yes, if she'll take it; but only a short one. I want to get her up in the air, and see how she behaves."
"Well, if you find out, after you're up, that she does well, you may want to take a long flight," suggested Mr. Fenwick. "If you do, why I have everything aboard necessary for a long voyage. TheWhizzeris well stocked with provisions."
An hour later, the big electric machine was wheeled out into the yard, for, in spite of her size, four men could easily move the craft about, so well was she balanced. Aside from a few personal friends of the inventor, himself, his machinists, Tom and Mr. Damon, no one was present at the try-out.
Tom, Mr. Damon and Mr. Fenwick climbed into the car which was suspended below the gas bag, and between the wing-like planes on either side. The young inventor had decided to make theWhizzerrise by scudding her across the ground on the bicycle wheels, with which she was equipped, and then by using the tilting planes to endeavor to lift her off the earth. He wanted to see if she would go up that way, without the use of the gas bag.
All was in readiness. The motor was started and the machinery began to hum and throb. The propellers gained speed with every revolution. The airship had been made fast by a rope, to which was attached a strong spring balance, as it was desired to see how much pull the engine would give.
"Eight hundred pounds," announced one of the machinists.
"A thousand would be better, but we'll try it," murmured Tom. "Cast off!"
The rope was loosened, and, increasing the speed of the engine, Tom signalled to the men to give a little momentum to the craft. She began running over the smooth ground. There was a cheer from the few spectators. Certainly theWhizzermade good time on the earth.
Tom was anxiously watching the gages and other instruments. He wanted a little more speed, but could not seem to get it. He ran the motor to the utmost, and then, seeing the necessity of making an attempt to get up into the air, before the end of the speeding ground was reached, he pulled the elevating plane lever.
The front of theWhizzerrose, and then settled down. Tom quickly shut off the power, and jammed on the brake, an arrangement of spikes that dug into the earth, for the high board fence loomed up before him.
"What's the matter?" cried Mr. Fenwick, anxiously.
"Couldn't get up speed enough," answered the young inventor. "We must have more momentum to make her rise."
"Can it be gotten?"
"I think so. I'll gear the motor higher."
It took an hour to do this. Once more the scale test was applied. It registered a pull of fifteen hundred pounds now.
"We'll go up," said Tom, grimly.
Once more the motors spit out fire, and the propellers whirled so that they looked like mere circles of light. Once more theWhizzershot over the ground, but this time, as she neared the fence, she rose up like a bird, cleared it like a trick horse, and soared off into the air!
TheWhizzerwas flying!
"Hurrah!" cried Mr. Fenwick in delight. "My machine is really flying at last!"
"Yes," answered Tom, as he adjusted various levers and gears, "she is going. It's not as high as I'd like, but it is doing very well, considering the weight of the craft, and the fact that we have not used the gas bag. I'm going to let that fill now, and we'll go up. Don't you want to steer, Mr. Fenwick?"
"No, you manage it, Tom, until it's in good running shape. I don't want to 'hoodoo' it. I worked as hard as I could, and never got more than two feet off the ground. Now I'm really sailing. It's great!"
He was very enthusiastic, and Tom himself was not a little pleased at his own success, for certainly the airship had looked to be a very dubious proposition at first.
"Bless my gaiters! But we are doing pretty well," remarked Mr. Damon, looking down on the field where Mr. Fenwick's friends and the machinists were gathered, cheering and waving their hands.
"We'll do better," declared Tom.
He had already set the gas machine in operation, and was now looking over the electric apparatus, to see that it was working well. It needed some adjustments, which he made.
All this while theWhizzerwas moving about in a big circle, for the rudder had been automatically set to so swing the craft. It was about two hundred feet high, but soon after the gas began to enter the bag it rose until it was nearly five thousand feet high. This satisfied Tom that the airship could do better than he expected, and he decided to return nearer earth.
In going down, he put the craft through a number of evolutions designed to test her ability to answer the rudders promptly. The lad saw opportunity for making a number of changes, and suggested them to Mr. Fenwick.
"Are you going any farther?" asked the owner of theWhizzer, as he saw that his craft was slowly settling.
"No, I think we've done enough for the first day," said Tom, "But I'd like you to handle her now, Mr. Fenwick. You can make the landing, while I watch the motor and other machines."
"Yes. I guess I can make a landing all right," assented the inventor. "I'm better at coming down than going up."
He did make a good descent, and received the congratulation of his friends as he stepped from the airship. Tom was also given much praise for his success in making the craft go at all, for Mr. Fenwick and his acquaintances had about given up hope that she ever would rise.
"Well, what do you think of her?" Mr. Fenwick wanted to know of the young inventor, who replied that, as soon as some further changes had been made, they would attempt a long flight.
This promise was kept two days later. They were busy days for Tom, Mr. Fenwick and the latter's assistants. Tom sent a short note to his father telling of the proposed long flight, and intimated that he might make a call in Shopton if all went well. He also sent a wire to Miss Nestor, hinting that she might have some apple turnovers ready for him.
But Tom never called for that particular pastry, though it was gotten ready for him when the girl received his message.
All was in readiness for the long flight, and a preliminary test had demonstrated that theWhizzerhad been wonderfully improved by the changes Tom made. The young inventor looked over the supply of food Mr. Fenwick had placed aboard, glanced at the other stores, and asked:
"How long do you expect to be gone, Mr. Fenwick?"
"Why, don't you think we can stay out a week?"
"That's quite a while," responded Tom. "We may be glad to return in two days, or less. But I think we're all ready to start. Are any of your friends going?"
"I've tried to pursuade some of them to accompany me, but they are a bit timid," said the inventor. "I guess we three will make up the party this time, though if our trip is a successful one I'll be overwhelmed with requests for rides, I suppose."
As before, a little crowd gathered to see the start. The day was warm, but there was a slight haziness which Tom did not like. He hoped, though, that it would pass over before they had gone far.
"Do you wish to head for any particular spot, Mr. Fenwick?" asked Tom, as they were entering the cabin.
"Yes, I would like to go down and circle Cape May, New Jersey, if we could. I have a friend who has a summer cottage there, and he was always laughing at my airship. I'd just like to drop down in front of his place now, and pay him a call."
"We'll try it," assented Tom, with a smile.
An auspicious start was made, theWhizzertaking the air after a short flight across the ground, and then, with the lifting gas aiding in pulling the craft upward, the airship started to sail high over the city of Philadelphia.
So swiftly did it rise that the cheers of the little crowd of Mr. Fenwick's friends were scarcely heard. Up and up it went, and then a little later, to the astonishment of the crowds in the streets, Tom put the airship twice in a circle around the statue of William Penn, on the top of the City Hall.
"Now you steer," the lad invited Mr. Fenwick. "Take her straight across the Delaware River, and over Camden, New Jersey, and then head south, for Cape May. We ought to make it in an hour, for we are getting up good speed."
Leaving the owner in charge of his craft, to that gentleman's no small delight, Tom and Mr. Damon began an inspection of the electrical and other machinery. There was much that needed attention, but Tom soon had the automatic apparatus in working order, and then less attention need be given to it.
Several times the young investor looked out of the windows with which the cabin was fitted. Mr. Damon noticed this.
"Bless my shoe laces, Tom," he said. "What's the matter?"
"I don't like the looks of the weather," was the answer. "I think we're in for a storm."
"Then let's put back."
"No, it would be too bad to disappoint Mr. Fenwick, now that we have made such a good start. He wants to make a long flight, and I can't blame him," spoke Tom, in a low voice.
"But if there's danger--"
"Oh, well, we can soon be at Cape May, and start back. The wind is freshening rather suddenly, though," and Tom looked at the anemometer, which showed a speed of twenty miles an hour. However, it was in their favor, aiding them to make faster time.
The speed of theWhizzerwas now about forty miles an hour, not fast for an air craft, but sufficiently speedy in trying out a new machine. Tom looked at the barograph, and noted that they had attained an altitude of seven thousand five hundred feet.
"That's better than millionaire Daxtel's distance of seven thousand one hundred and five feet," remarked the lad, with a smile, "and it breaks Jackson's climb of seven thousand three hundred and three feet, which is pretty good for your machine, Mr. Fenwick."
"Do you really think so?" asked the pleased inventor.
"Yes. And we'll do better than that in time, but it's best to go slow at first, until we see how she is standing the strain. This is high and fast enough for the present."
They kept on, and as Tom saw that the machinery was working well, he let it out a little, TheWhizzerat once leaped forward, and, a little later they came within sight of Cape May, the Jersey coast resort.
"Now to drop down and visit my friend," said Mr. Fenwick, with a smile. "Won't he be surprised!"
"I don't think we'd better do it," said Tom.
"Why not?"
"Well, the wind is getting stronger every minute and it will be against us on the way back. If we descend, and try to make another ascension we may fail. We're up in the air now, and it may be easy to turn around and go back. Then, again, it may not, but it certainly will be easier to shift around up here than down on the ground. So I'd rather not descend--that is, not entirely to the ground."
"Well, just as you say, though I wanted my friend to know I could build a successful airship."
"Oh, we can get around that. I'll take her down as low as is safe, and fly over his house, if you'll point it out, and you can drop him a message in one of the pasteboard tubes we carry for that purpose."
"That's a good idea," assented Mr. Fenwick. "I'll do it."
Tom sent theWhizzerdown until the hotels and cottages could be made out quite plainly. After looking with a pair of opera glasses, Mr. Fenwick picked out the residence of his friend, and Tom prepared to circle about the roof.
By this time the presence of the airship had become known to hundreds, and crowds were eagerly watching it.
"There he is! There's my friend who didn't believe I would ever succeed!" exclaimed Mr. Fenwick, pointing to a man who stood in the street in front of a large, white house. "I'll drop him a message!"
One was in readiness in a weighted pasteboard cylinder, and soon it was falling downward. The airship was moving slowly, as it was beating against the wind.
Leaning out of the cabin window, Mr. Fenwick shouted to his friend:
"Hey, Will! I thought you said my airship would never go! I'll come and give you a ride, some day!"
Whether the gentleman understood what Mr. Fenwick shouted at him is doubtful, but he saw the inventor waving his hand, and he saw the falling cylinder, and a look of astonishment spread over his face, as he ran to pick up the message.
"We're going up now, and will try to head for home," said Tom, a moment later, as he shifted the rudder.
"Bless my storage battery!" cried Mr. Damon. "But we have had a fine trip."
"A much better one than we'll have going back," observed Tom, in a low voice.
"Why; what's the matter?" asked the eccentric man.
"The wind has increased to a gale, and will be dead against us," answered Tom.
Mr. Fenwick was busy writing another message to drop, and he paid little attention to the young inventor. Tom sent the craft well up into the air, and then tried to turn it about, and head back for Philadelphia. No sooner had he done so than the airship was met by the full force of the wind, which was now almost a hurricane. It had steadily increased, but, as long as they were moving with it, they did not notice it so much. Once they attempted to stem its fury they found themselves almost helpless.
Tom quickly realized this, and, giving up his intention of beating up against the wind, he turned the craft around, and let it fly before the gale, the propellers aiding to get up a speed of seventy miles an hour.
Mr. Fenwick, who had dropped the last of his messages, came from his small private cabin, to where Mr. Damon and Tom were in a low-voiced conversation near the engines. The owner of theWhizzer, happened to look down through a plate-glass window in the floor of car. What he saw caused him to give a gasp of astonishment.
"Why--why!" he exclaimed. "We--we're over the ocean."
"Yes," answered Tom, quietly, as he gazed down on the tumbling billows below them. They had quickly passed over Cape May, across the sandy beach, and were now well out over the Atlantic.
"Why--why are we out here?" asked Mr. Fenwick. "Isn't it dangerous--in an airship that hasn't been thoroughly tried yet?"
"Dangerous? Yes, somewhat," replied Tom, slowly. "But we can't help ourselves, Mr. Fenwick. We can't turn around and go back in this gale, and we can't descend."
"Then what's to be done?"
"Nothing, except to keep on until the gale blows itself out."
"And how long will that be?"
"I don't know--a week, maybe."
"Bless my coffee pot, I'm glad we've got plenty on board to eat!" exclaimed Mr. Damon.
After the first shock of Tom's announcement, the two men, who were traveling with him in the airship, showed no signs of fear. Yet it was alarming to know that one was speeding over the mighty ocean, before a terrific gale, with nothing more substantial under one that a comparatively frail airship.
Still Mr. Damon knew Tom of old, and had confidence in his ability, and, while Mr. Fenwick was not so well acquainted with our hero, he had heard much about him, and put faith in his skill to carry them out of their present difficulty.
"Are you sure you can't turn around and go back?" asked Mr. Fenwick. His knowledge of air-currents was rather limited.
"It is out of the question," replied Tom, simply. "We would surely rip this craft to pieces if we attempted to buffet this storm."
"Is it so bad, then?" asked Mr. Damon, forgetting to bless anything in the tense excitement of the moment.
"It might be worse," was the reply of the young inventor. "The wind is blowing about eighty miles an hour at times, and to try to turn now would mean that we would tear the planes loose from the ship. True, we could still keep up by means of the gas bag, but even that might be injured. Going as we are, in the same direction as that in which the wind is blowing, we do not feel the full effect of it."
"But, perhaps, if we went lower down, or higher up, we could get in a different current of air," suggested Mr. Fenwick, who had made some study of aeronautics.
"I'll try," assented Tom, simply. He shifted the elevating rudder, and theWhizzerbegan to go up, slowly, for there was great lateral pressure on her large surface. But Tom knew his business, and urged the craft steadily. The powerful electric engines, which were the invention of Mr. Fenwick, stood them in good stead, and the barograph soon showed that they were steadily mounting.
"Is the wind pressure any less?" inquired Mr. Damon, anxiously.
"On the contrary, it seems to be increasing," replied Tom, with a glance at the anemometer. "It's nearly ninety miles an hour now."
"Then, aided by the propellers, we must be making over a hundred miles an hour." said the inventor.
"We are,--a hundred and thirty," assented Tom.
"We'll be blown across the ocean at this rate," exclaimed Mr. Damon. "Bless my soul! I didn't count on that."
"Perhaps we had better go down," suggested Mr. Fenwick. "I don't believe we can get above the gale."
"I'm afraid not," came from Tom. "It may be a bit better down below."
Accordingly, the rudder was changed, and theWhizzerpointed her nose downward. None of the lifting gas was let out, as it was desired to save that for emergencies.
Down, down, down, went the great airship, until the adventurers within, by gazing through the plate glass window in the floor of the cabin, could see the heaving, white-capped billows, tossing and tumbling below them.
"Look out, or we'll be into them!" shouted Mr. Damon.
"I guess we may as well go back to the level where we were," declared Tom. "The wind, both above and below that particular strata is stronger, and we will be safer up above. Our only chance is to scud before it, until it has blown itself out. And I hope it will be soon."
"Why?" asked Mr. Damon, in a low voice.
"Because we may be blown so far that we can not get back while our power holds out, and then--" Tom did not finish, but Mr. Damon knew what he meant--death in the tossing ocean, far from land, when theWhizzer, unable to float in the air any longer, should drop into the storm-enraged Atlantic.
They were again on a level, where the gale blew less furiously than either above or below, but this was not much relief. It seemed as if the airship would go to pieces, so much was it swayed and tossed about. But Mr. Fenwick, if he had done nothing else, had made a staunch craft, which stood the travelers in good stead.
All the rest of that day they swept on, at about the same speed. There was nothing for them to do, save watch the machinery, occasionally replenishing the oil tanks, or making minor adjustments.
"Well," finally remarked Mr. Damon, when the afternoon was waning away, "if there's nothing else to do, suppose we eat. Bless my appetite, but I'm hungry! and I believe you said, Mr. Fenwick, that you had plenty of food aboard."
"So we have, but the excitement of being blown out to sea on our first real trip, made me forget all about it. I'll get dinner at once, if you can put up with an amateur's cooking."
"And I'll help," offered Mr. Damon. "Tom can attend to the airship, and we'll serve the meals. It will take our minds off our troubles."
There was a well equipped kitchen aboard theWhizzerand soon savory odors were coming from it. In spite of the terror of their situation, and it was not to be denied that they were in peril, they all made a good meal, though it was difficult to drink coffee and other liquids, owing to the sudden lurches which the airship gave from time to time as the gale tossed her to and fro.
Night came, and, as the blackness settled down, the gale seemed to increase in fury. It howled through the slender wire rigging of theWhizzer, and sent the craft careening from side to side, and sometimes thrust her down into a cavern of the air, only to lift her high again, almost like a ship on the heaving ocean below them.
As darkness settled in blacker and blacker, Tom had a glimpse below him, of tossing lights on the water.
"We just passed over some vessel," he announced. "I hope they are in no worse plight than we are." Then, there suddenly came to him a thought of the parents of Mary Nestor, who were somewhere on the ocean, in the yachtResolutebound for the West Indies.
"I wonder if they're out in this storm, too?" mused Tom. "If they are, unless the vessel is a staunch one, they may be in danger."
The thought of the parents of the girl he cared so much for being in peril, was not reassuring to Tom, and he began to busy himself about the machinery of the airship, to take his mind from the presentiment that something might happen to theResolute.
"We'll have our own troubles before morning," the lad mused, "if this wind doesn't die down."
There was no indication that this was going to be the case, for the gale increased rather than diminished. Tom looked at their speed gage. They were making a good ninety miles an hour, for it had been decided that it was best to keep the engine and propellers going, as they steadied the ship.
"Ninety miles an hour," murmured Tom. "And we've been going at that rate for ten hours now. That's nearly a thousand miles. We are quite a distance out to sea."
He looked at a compass, and noted that, instead of being headed directly across the Atlantic they were bearing in a southerly direction.
"At this rate, we won't come far from getting to the West Indies ourselves," reasoned the young inventor. "But I think the gale will die away before morning."
The storm did not, however. More fiercely it blew through the hours of darkness. It was a night of terror, for they dared not go to sleep, not knowing at what moment the ship might turn turtle, or even rend apart, and plunge with them into the depths of the sea.
So they sat up, occasionally attending to the machinery, and noting the various gages. Mr. Damon made hot coffee, which they drank from time to time, and it served to refresh them.
There came a sudden burst of fury from the storm, and the airship rocked as if she was going over.
"Bless my heart!" cried Mr. Damon, springing up. "That was a close call!"
Tom said nothing. Mr. Fenwick looked pale and alarmed.
The hours passed. They were swept ever onward, at about the same speed, sometimes being whirled downward, and again tossed upward at the will of the wind. The airship was well-nigh helpless, and Tom, as he realized their position, could not repress a fear in his heart as he thought of the parents of the girl he loved being tossed about on the swirling ocean, in a frail pleasure yacht.
They sat in the cabin of the airship, staring helplessly at each other. Occasionally Tom rose to attend to one of the machines, or Mr. Fenwick did the same. Occasionally, Mr. Damon uttered a remark. Then there was silence, broken only by the howl of the gale.
It seemed impossible for theWhizzerto travel any faster, yet when Tom glanced at the speed gage he noted, with a feeling of surprise, akin to horror, that they were making close to one hundred and fifty miles an hour. Only an aeroplane could have done it, and then only when urged on by a terrific wind which added to the speed produced by the propellers.
The whole craft swayed and trembled, partly from the vibration of the electrical machinery, and partly from the awful wind. Mr. Fenwick came close to Tom, and exclaimed:
"Do you think it would be any use to try once more to go above or below the path of the storm?"
Tom's first impulse was to say that it would be useless, but he recollected that the craft belonged to Fenwick, and surely that gentleman had a right to make a suggestion. The young inventor nodded.
"We'll try to go up," he said. "If that doesn't work, I'll see if I can force her down. It will be hard work, though. The wind is too stiff."
Tom shifted the levers and rudders. His eyes were on the barograph--that delicate instrument, the trembling hand of which registered their height. Tom had tilted the deflection rudder to send them up, but as he watched the needle he saw it stationary. They were not ascending, though the great airship was straining to mount to an upper current where there might be calm.
It was useless, however, and Tom, seeing the futility of it, shifted the rudder to send them downward. This was more easily accomplished, but it was a change for the worse, since, the nearer to the ocean they went, the fiercer blew the wind.
"Back! Go back up higher!" cried Mr. Damon,
"We can't!" yelled Tom. "We've got to stay here now!"
"Oh, but this is awful!" exclaimed Mr. Fenwick. "We can never stand this!"
The airship swaged more than ever, and the occupants were tossed about in the cabin, from side to side. Indeed, it did seem that human beings never could come alive out of that fearful ordeal.
As Tom looked from one of the windows of the cabin, he noted a pale, grayish sort of light outside. At first he could not understand what it was, then, as he observed the sickly gleams of the incandescent electric lamps, he knew that the hour of dawn was at hand.
"See!" he exclaimed to his companions, pointing to the window. "Morning is coming."
"Morning!" gasped Mr. Damon. "Is the night over? Now, perhaps we shall get rid of the storm."
"I'm afraid not," answered Tom, as he noted the anemometer and felt the shudderings of theWhizzeras she careened on through the gale. "It hasn't blown out yet!"
The pale light increased. The electrics seemed to dim and fade. Tom looked to the engines. Some of the apparatus was in need of oil, and he supplied it. When he came back to the main cabin, where stood Mr. Damon and Mr. Fenwick, it was much lighter outside.
"Less than a day since we left Philadelphia," murmured the owner of theWhizzer, as he glanced at a distance indicator, "yet we have come nearly sixteen hundred miles. We certainly did travel top speed. I wonder where we are?"
"Still over the ocean," replied Mr. Damon, as he looked down at the heaving billows rolling amid crests of foam far below them. "Though what part of it would be hard to say. We'll have to reckon out our position when it gets calmer."
Tom came from the engine room. His face wore a troubled look, and he said, addressing the older inventor:
"Mr. Fenwick, I wish you'd come and look at the gas generating apparatus. It doesn't seem to be working properly."
"Anything wrong?" asked Mr. Damon, suspiciously.
"I hope not," replied Tom, with all the confidence he could muster. "It may need adjusting. I am not so familiar with it as I am with the one on theRed Cloud. The gas seems to be escaping from the bag, and we may have to descend, for some distance."
"But the aeroplanes will keep us up," said Mr. Daman.
"Yes--they will," and Tom hesitated. "That is, unless something happens to them. They are rather frail to stand alone the brunt of the gale, and I wish--"
Tom did not complete the sentence. Instead, he paused suddenly and seemed to be intently listening.
From without there came a rending, tearing, crashing sound. The airship quivered from end to end, and seemed to make a sudden dive downward. Then it appeared to recover, and once more glided forward.
Tom, followed by Mr. Fenwick, made a rush for the compartment where the machine was installed. They had no sooner reached it than there sounded an explosion, and the airship recoiled as if it had hit a stone wall.
"Bless my shaving brush! What's that?" cried Mr. Damon. "Has anything happened?"
"I'm rather afraid there has," answered Tom, solemnly. "It sounded as though the gas bag went up. And I'm worried over the strength of the planes. We must make an investigation!"
"We're falling!" almost screamed Mr. Fenwick, as he glanced at the barograph, the delicate needle of which was swinging to and fro, registering different altitudes.
"Bless my feather bed! So we are!" shouted Mr. Damon. "Let's jump, and avoid being caught under the airship!"
He darted for a large window, opening from the main cabin, and was endeavoring to raise it when Tom caught his hand.
"What are you trying to do," asked the lad, hoarsely.
"Save my life! I want to get out of this as soon as I can. I'm going to jump!"
"Don't think of it! You'd be instantly killed. We're too high for a jump, even into the ocean."
"The ocean! Oh, is that still below us? Is there any chance of being saved? What can be done?" Mr. Damon hesitated.
"We must first find out how badly we are damaged," said Tom, quietly. "We must keep our heads, and be calm, no matter what happens. I need your help, Mr. Damon."
This served to recall the rather excited man to his senses. He came back to the centre of the cabin, which was no easy task, for the floor of it was tilted at first one angle, and then another. He stood at Tom's side.
"What can I do to help you?" he asked. Mr. Fenwick was darting here and there, examining the different machines. None of them seemed to be damaged.
"If you will look and see what has happened to our main wing planes, I will see how much gas we have left in the bag," suggested Tom. "Then we can decide what is best to be done. We are still quite high, and it will take some time to complete our fall, as, even if everything is gone, the material of the bag will act as a sort of parachute."
Mr. Damon darted to a window in the rear of the cabin, where he could obtain a glimpse of the main wing planes. He gave a cry of terror and astonishment.
"Two of the planes are gone!" he reported. "They are torn and are hanging loose."
"I feared as much," retorted Tom, quietly, "The gale was too much for them."
"What of the lifting gas?" asked Mr. Fenwick, quickly.
"It has nearly all flowed out of the retaining bag."
"Then we must make more at once. I will start the generating machine."
He darted toward it.
"It will be useless," spoke Tom, quietly.
"Why?"
"Because there is no bag left to hold it. The silk and rubber envelope has been torn to pieces by the gale. The wind is even stronger than it was last night."
"Then what's to be done?" demanded Mr. Damon, with a return of his alarmed and nervous manner. "Bless my fingernails! What's to be done?"
For an instant Tom did not answer. It was constantly getting lighter, though there was no sun, for it was obscured by scudding clouds. The young inventor looked critically at the various gages and indicators.
"Is--is there any chance for us?" asked Mr. Fenwick, quietly.
"I think so," answered Tom, with a hopeful smile. "We have about two thousand feet to descend, for we have fallen nearly that distance since the accident."
"Two thousand feet to fall!" gasped Mr. Damon. "We can never do it and live!"
"I think so," spoke Tom.
"Bless my gizzard! How?" fairly exploded Mr. Damon.
"By vol-planing down!"
"But, even if we do, we will fall into the ocean!" cried Mr. Fenwick. "We will be drowned!"
"No," and Tom spoke more quietly than before. "We are over a large island." he went on, "and I propose to let the disabled airship vol-plane down to it. That is our only chance."
"Over an island!" cried Mr. Damon. He looked down through the floor observation window. Tom had spoken truly. At that moment they were over a large island, which had suddenly loomed up in the wild and desolate waste of the ocean. They had reached its vicinity just in time.
Tom stepped to the steering and rudder levers, and took charge. He was going to attempt a most difficult feat--that of guiding a disabled airship back to earth in the midst of a hurricane, and landing her on an unknown island. Could he do it?
There was but one answer. He must try. It was the only chance of saving their lives, and a slim one at best.
Down shot the damagedWhizzerlike some giant bird with broken wings, but Tom Swift was in charge, and it seemed as if the craft knew it, as she began that earthward glide.
Mingled feelings possessed the three adventurers within the airship. Mr. Damon and Mr. Fenwick had crowded to the window, as Tom spoke, to get a glimpse of the unknown island toward which they were shooting. They could see it more plainly now, from the forward casement, as well as from the one in the bottom of the craft. A long, narrow, rugged piece of land it was, in the midst of the heaving ocean, for the storm still raged and lashed the waves to foam.
"Can you make it?" asked Mr. Damon, in a low voice.
"I think so," answered Tom, more cheerfully.
"Shall I shut down the motor?" inquired the older inventor.
"Yes, you might as well. We don't need the propellers now, and I may be better able to make the glide without them."
The buzzing and purring electrical apparatus was shut down. Silence reigned in the airship, but the wind still howled outside. As Tom had hoped, the ship became a little more steady with the stopping of the big curved blades, though had the craft been undamaged they would have served to keep her on an even keel.
With skillful hand he so tilted the elevating planes that, after a swift downward glide, the head of theWhizzerwould be thrown up, so to speak, and she would sail along in a plane parallel to the island. This had the effect of checking her momentum, just as the aviator checks the downward rush of his monoplane or biplane when he is making a landing.
Tom repeated this maneuver several times, until a glance at his barograph showed that they had but a scant sixty feet to go. There was time but for one more upward throwing of theWhizzer's nose, and Tom held to that position as long as possible. They could now make out the topography of the island plainly, for it was much lighter. Tom saw a stretch of sandy beach, and steered for that.
Downward shot the airship, inert and lifeless. It was not like gliding his littleButterflyto earth after a flight, but Tom hoped he could make it. They were now within ten feet of the earth, skimming forward. Tom tried another upward tilt, but the forward planes would not respond. They could get no grip on the air.
With a crash that could have been heard some distance theWhizzersettled to the sand. It ran along a slight distance, and then, as the bicycle wheels collapsed under the pressure, the airship seemed to go together in a shapeless mass.
At the first impact with the earth, Tom had leaped away from the steering wheel and levers, for he did not want to be crushed against them. Mr. Damon and Mr. Fenwick, in pursuance of a plan adopted when they found that they were falling, had piled a lot of seat cushions around them. They had also provided some as buffers for Tom, and our hero, at the instant of the crash, had thrown himself behind and upon them.
It seemed as if the whole ship went to pieces. The top of the main cabin crashed down, as the side supports gave way, but, fortunately, there were strong main braces, and the roof did not fall completely upon our friends.
The whole bottom of the craft was forced upward and had it not been for the protecting cushions, there might have been serious injuries for all concerned. As it was they were badly bruised and shaken up.
After the first crash, and succeeding it an instant later, there came a second smash, followed by a slight explosion, and a shower of sparks could be seen in the engine room.
"That's the electrical apparatus smashing through the floor!" called Tom. "Come, let's get out of here before the gasolene sets anything on fire. Are you all right, Mr. Damon, and you, Mr. Fenwick?"
"Yes, I guess so," answered the inventor. "Oh, what a terrible crash! My airship is ruined!"
"You may be glad we are alive," said Mr. Damon. "Bless my top knot, I feel--"
He did not finish the sentence. At that moment a piece of wood, broken from the ceiling, where it had hung by a strip of canvas came crashing down, and hit Mr. Damon on the head.
The eccentric man toppled over on his pile of cushions, from which he was arising when he was struck.
"Oh, is he killed?" gasped Mr. Fenwick.
"I hope not!" cried Tom. "We must get him out of here, at all events. There may be a fire."
They both sprang to Mr. Damon's aid, and succeeded in lifting him out. There was no difficulty in emerging from the airship as there were big, broken gaps, on all sides of what was left of the cabin. Once in the outer air Mr. Damon revived, and opened his eyes.
"Much hurt?" asked Tom, feeling of his friend's head.
"No--no, I--I guess not," was the slow answer. "I was stunned for a moment. I'm all right now. Nothing broken, I guess," and his hand went to his head.
"No, nothing broken," added Tom, cheerfully, "but you've got a lump there as big as an ostrich egg. Can you walk?"
"Oh, I'm all right. Bless my stars, what a wreck!"
Mr. Damon looked at the remains of the airship. It certainly was a wreck! The bent and twisted planes were wrapped about the afterpart, the gas bag was but a shred, the frame was splintered and twisted, and the under part, where the starting wheels were placed, resembled a lot of broken bicycles. The cabin looked like a shack that had sustained an explosion of dynamite.
"It's a wonder we came out alive," said Mr. Fenwick, in a low voice.
"Indeed it is," agreed Tom, as he came back with a tin can full of sea water, with which to bathe Mr. Damon's head. The lad had picked up the can from where it had rolled from the wreck, and they had landed right on the beach.