Victor Appleton - Tom Swift Jr 02 by And His Jetmarine

Author:And His Jetmarine
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Published: 2011-12-05T23:24:17+00:00

CHAPTER 13

A JET RESCUE

AS BUD flopped into the copilot’s seat Tom looked at him in amazement.

“The Fat Men! Of all the things to forget! We shouldn’t make a test run without them.” Then, calming down, he added, “I’ll have somebody fly them out in one of our jets.”

Tom kept the Sky Queen hovering over Stillman’s Wharf while he radioed home. Getting Baker out of bed, Tom asked him to have the escape suits sent as quickly as possible.

“The nearest airport to this place that’ll accommodate a jet is one called Henley Field,” Tom said. “It’s ten miles from here. We’ll pick the Fat Men up at noontime. Bud will drive over in a truck.”

“I’ll attend to it right away,” Baker promised. “Good-by.”

Tom eased the giant ship slowly toward the beach. The advance crew which Tom had sent to the wharf came scurrying from a Quonset hut to watch the mammoth ship make her landing.

The Flying Lab came down perfectly, her jet lifters roaring. Tom cut the motors, taxied up to the dock, and climbed out, followed by Arv Hanson who would fly the Sky Queen back to Shopton.

“Shall we unload immediately, Tom?” one of the men asked.

“The quicker the better. We’ll get the jetmarine into the dry dock and slap on that camouflage before people are awake.”

Tom looked over the site for his secret launching. The inlet had been selected after several months of scouting by Hank Sterling and Arvid Hanson. They had surveyed shore-line localities and had come up with Stillman’s as the perfect spot.

The boat yard, with a fine dry dock, had been abandoned as a Navy speedboat experimental center several years before. Now it had reverted to Mr. Stillman, the original owner. He lived on the property and puttered with small motorboats.

Under the new arrangement with Swift Enterprises, Mr. Stillman permitted Tom’s construction engineers to ready the place as they pleased, which they had done in a matter of hours.

The young inventor watched with satisfaction as cranes deftly slid the atomic submarine from the hangar of the plane, swung it across the sand, and cradled the jetmarine in the dry dock.

At this moment the camouflage crew sprang into action. A few minutes later Bud cried admiringly:

“Jumping jets! That covering looks just like a strip of seashore.”

“Right,” Tom agreed. “Any roving pirate will miss it.”

Tom spent the balance of the morning checking vital parts on his submarine. At eleven o’clock he dispatched Bud to the local airport.

“I think we’ve thrown the pirates off our trail,” the young inventor said, “but we won’t take any chances. Baker said he’d pack the Fat Men in boxes. They’ll probably look like big refrigerator cartons. Somebody at the field will help you load them on the truck.”

“Don’t I get an escort?” Bud asked, giving Tom a slant-eyed look.

“I’m afraid that would arouse suspicion,” the young inventor replied.

“Okay, pal. Now I’m in the trucking business.” Bud saluted and strode off.

The copilot walked to the paved road about a quarter of a mile from Stillman’s.

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