THE BOY INVENTORS’ DIVING TORPEDO BOAT

BY

RICHARD BONNER AUTHOR OF “THE BOY INVENTORS’ WIRELESS TRIUMPH,” “THE BOY INVENTORS’ VANISHING GUN,” ETC.

ILLUSTRATED BY CHARLES L. WRENN

NEW YORK HURST & COMPANY PUBLISHERS

Copyright, 1912 BY HURST & COMPANY

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CHAPTER I. THE RUNAWAY CAR.

“What’s the trouble?”

“I don’t know. Seems to me that the car is running away.”

“It surely does. Gracious! Feel it lurch then?”

As he spoke Jack Chadwick, a good-looking, clean-cut lad of about seventeen, sprang to his feet. His example was followed by his cousin, Tom Jesson, a youth of his own age.

But the trolley car, at the same instant, gave a bound and a side jump that hurled the boys against each other.

6

Simultaneously the motorman turned his head and gave a frightened shout:

“She’s got away from me! We’d all better jump!”

The car was on a steep down grade. Its speed was momentarily increasing, and it leaped and swayed wildly as it dashed down the hill. The motorman had hardly spoken before he made a leap from the front platform. The two boys saw his form sprawling on the road as he landed staggeringly. He was followed by the conductor of the car, who, more fortunate, managed to keep his feet after his jump.

All this happened with the rapidity of a swiftly moving motion picture film. The two boys found themselves alone.

When they had left Boston for High Towers, the suburban estate of Professor Chadwick,7 Jack’s famous father, the car had for some reason been almost empty. The last passenger, with the exception of themselves, had vacated it some moments before the brakes had failed to work and the vehicle had started on its mad career down the steep hill.

In a flash the runaway car had passed the two operatives who had deserted it in terror, and was dashing forward faster than ever toward the foot of the hill.

Jack and his chum started for the front platform. Jack had a vague idea that perhaps he could control the runaway car. Before them they could see, at the foot of the hill, a sharp curve of the tracks, and beyond the flashing water of Bluewater Cove, a small but deep inlet.

All this they had but a minute to realize. Hardly had the details of the scene impressed8 themselves on their minds—scarcely had Jack grasped the brake handle and twisted it desperately, before the car appeared to leap into the air like a thing instinct with life. There was an alarmed shout from both boys, which was echoed by a gray-haired man, who rushed from an odd-looking building, abutting on the water, at the same instant that the car left the tracks at the curve.

The lads had just time to glimpse his overalled figure and to note his alarm, when everything was blotted out as the car dashed into a clump of trees and was utterly demolished.

It was an hour or so later when Jack and his chum came back to their senses. Their eyes opened on a scene so strange to them that they were completely at a loss to account for their surroundings. Jack lay on a sort of cot-bed,9 while his returning senses showed him Tom reclining on a similar contrivance almost opposite him.

The room in which they were was an unceiled, unpapered apartment. The walls were of rough pine wood, and above them the naked rafters showed. In one corner was a stove, and in another a well-furnished set of book shelves. A library table which was littered with papers supported a reading lamp as well as what appeared to be models of different bits of machinery. Taken as a whole, the room appeared to be a section of a large wooden shed, paneled or partitioned off to serve as a living place.

To Jack’s eyes, trained as they were to comprehend the details of machinery, it was perfectly plain that whoever occupied the place was engaged on some difficult, or at least abstruse,10 problems connected with a mechanical device; although, of course, as to what the nature of this might be, the lad could not hazard a guess.

“Where in the world are we, Tom?” he asked, as he saw by Tom’s opened eyes—one of which was badly blackened—that his cousin was in full possession of his senses.

“I don’t know. It’s a funny-looking place. Say, Jack, are you hurt?”

“No; that is, I don’t think so.”

Jack stretched his limbs carefully. Apparently the result of his self-inspection was satisfactory, for the next moment he said:

“No; I’m sound as a new dollar. How about you, Tom?”

“All right, except that my eye feels as if it was as big as the State House dome. Jiminy, what an almighty smash!”

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“Yes; we were lucky to get out of it alive. But where on earth are we? That’s what I want to know.”

At this juncture a door at one end of the room opened and the same figure that had rushed from the waterside shed as the car left the curve appeared. It was that of a kindly-faced man of about sixty. His tall figure was bent and stooped, but fire and energy still twinkled in a pair of piercing black eyes. Although the possessor of these attributes wore overalls, it was evident that he was not a laboring man. His face was rather that of a dreamer, of a man accustomed to deal with mental problems. In one hand he carried a pitcher of water, while in the other he had a stout volume bound in yellow calfskin.

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“Ah! So my young patients are better already,” he remarked as his glance rested on the two wide-eyed lads. “You had a miraculous escape,” he continued. “I saw you on the front platform of the car as it left the rails and headed for a clump of trees. I did not think that there was a possible chance of your surviving, but it appears that you did.”

He blinked his odd, dark eyes and smiled at Jack, who was sitting up on his couch. His coat and vest had been removed, and his head throbbed rather wildly.

“What happened, sir?” he asked. “I remember the car running away, and then I made for the brakes—that was after the conductor and the motorman jumped—but after that it’s all confused.”

“No wonder,” was the reply.13 “I dragged you and this other lad out of a mass of débris. Had it not been that a heavy beam protected you from being crushed, you would have undoubtedly been killed.”

“The car was smashed, then?”

“It is a complete wreck. The conductor and the motorman were but slightly injured so that you all came safely out of it by a miracle, as it were.”

“We don’t know your name, but we are deeply grateful to you for all that you have done for us,” declared Jack. “My name is Chadwick, and this is my cousin and chum, Tom Jesson.”

“Chadwick?” repeated the man, with the manner of one who recalls a familiar name. “Are you any relation of the famous Professor Chadwick, the inventor?”

“I am his son,” rejoined Jack, not without a ring of pride in his voice.

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“Then you must be one of the lads who went through those extraordinary adventures in connection with the wonderful vanishing gun which you helped Mr. Pythias Peregrine perfect?”

“We are the same boys,” replied Jack smilingly, “but so far as helping Mr. Peregrine was concerned, I’m afraid we got him into more trouble than anything else.”

“Not from what I have heard,” rejoined the gray-haired man with conviction; “had it not been for you the vanishing-gun device would have been stolen, and possibly Mr. Peregrine’s life sacrificed. But now, perhaps, it is time that I made myself known to you. My name is Daniel Dancer.”

“The Daniel Dancer?” exclaimed Jack, astonishment appearing in his eyes. Tom’s round and15 rubicund countenance was alight with the same eager surprise as they awaited the answer.

“I believe that I have been referred to as The Daniel Dancer,” was the quiet rejoinder.16 “You appear to have heard of me before.”

CHAPTER II. THE “WHITE SHARK.”

“Who hasn’t heard of Daniel Dancer?” cried Tom enthusiastically. “Why, as dad used to say, your name is almost a household word in the field of invention.”

The gray-haired man regarded him quizzically.

“Possibly it is,” he rejoined, “but at the present moment I am as much at sea regarding a mechanical problem as any tyro.”

He nodded his head in the direction of the model-bestrewn table.

“What I meant to make the crowning achievement of my career, my diving torpedo boat, the White Shark, is at present at a dead standstill.”

The two boys regarded him wonderingly.

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“You mean that work on it is at a standstill?” inquired Jack presently.

“Precisely so. I have to face certain mechanical problems that have—I am free to admit it—fairly stumped me.”

“You see,” he continued briefly, “the White Shark is to be a combination diving and ‘skimming’ boat.”

The boys merely nodded and waited for Mr. Dancer to continue. Plainly, developments of possibly startling interest were at hand.

“But it is impossible for me to explain to you just what the White Shark is, and what I hope to accomplish with her, without affording you a view of the craft,” resumed Mr. Dancer; “if you feel strong enough I will show her to you.”

“But it seems to me that I read in a Boston paper some time ago that your work here was of the most secret sort,” said Jack.

18

“So far as the outside public is concerned such is the case,” was the reply, “but to my fellow laborers in the same field, as it were, I am glad to be of service and to provide them with an interesting sight; for I am vain enough to believe that the White Shark is one of the most remarkable craft in the world at the present time.”

“I should like to see it above all things,” cried Jack eagerly.

“The same here,” responded Tom, with expectant eyes, “I feel quite recovered from my shaking up.”

“That is good. Now if you will get up and follow me, I think I can show you something that will surprise you.”

So saying the inventor crossed the room to another door than the one by which he had entered. The boys, following him, found themselves in a19 big shed from which “ways” sloped down to the water’s edge. An extended view of the ocean was not possible, for two doors of stout construction barred the gaze of any curious person who might have tried to obtain a view of the White Shark from the sea.

But for these details the boys had no eyes. Their gaze was riveted on what, in outside appearance, at any rate, fully justified its designer’s appellation: “One of the most remarkable craft in the world.”

The White Shark was secured at the top of the ways, presumably ready to take a plunge into the element for which she was designed. She was about seventy feet in length, and shaped like a rather stout barrel with pointed, conical ends.

At one end was a propeller of bronze, and at the other a long tube, like a snout, or nose. This20 puzzled the boys greatly, but for the time they refrained from asking questions. The material of which the White Shark was constructed was a mystery also. It glistened like polished nickel and was as smooth and bright as a mirror.

“The White Shark is built throughout of Monel metal, a material that will not tarnish or corrode, but always remains bright,” explained Mr. Dancer.

Jack nodded his head.

“It’s something quite new, isn’t it?” he asked.

“Yes. It’s the invention of a friend of mine in New Jersey. It is almost as light and far stronger than aluminum.”

There was a ladder leaning against the side of the odd craft and Mr. Dancer, beckoning to the boys, signed them to follow him. He ascended the rungs with remarkable agility for a man of21 his apparent age and reached the top of the cylindrical craft long before the boys did.

The rounded top of the diving craft was as smooth and bright as its sides. A low rail ran round the “upper deck,” if such it could be called, and at first sight it appeared that there was no way of penetrating to the interior of the White Shark.

Mr. Dancer bent, however, and pressed a button, at first hardly discernible. A panel slid back noiselessly, revealing the first steps of a flight of steep stairs.

“One moment till I light your way,” said the inventor, “I don’t want you to fall down stairs and get into trouble twice in one day.”

He gave an odd, dry little laugh as he said this and reaching within, he pressed another button. There came a sharp click, and below them the22 fascinated boys saw the interior of the unique vessel illuminated by a soft white light of intense radiance.

“I invite you on board the White Shark,” said Mr. Dancer with a bow and a wave of his hand toward the entrance; “you will be the first outsiders to visit it.”

With hearts that beat a little faster than usual at the idea of the novel experience before them the two lads stepped within the opening and began the descent of the stairs.

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CHAPTER III. A WONDERFUL CRAFT.

At the foot of the stairs they found themselves within a room, narrow and high ceiled by the curved deck above, from each side of which three doors opened. In the center, suspended from the ceiling so as to be out of the way when not in use, a table swung, which could be lowered when wanted. Along the walls were folding chairs and lounges of the same description. At one end were bookshelves containing what appeared to be scientific works. A soft carpet was on the floor and the decorations of the chamber were handsome, but plain and solid looking.

The light which flooded the place came from a ground-glass dome in the ceiling. At the end of24 the room opposite to that occupied by the bookshelves was a table with glittering, metallic apparatus on it. Jack and Tom instantly recognized this as constituting an unusually complete wireless outfit.

“Why, the White Shark surely is a wonderful craft!” exclaimed Jack delightedly, gazing about him.

Tom echoed his enthusiasm; but Mr. Dancer merely said:

“Wait; I have more, much more, to show you.”

He opened one of the doors that led off the main chamber which they had just been examining. It disclosed a small cabin, furnished with two Pullman bunks, one above the other.

“There are three cabins like this,” said Mr. Dancer.25 “Those other two doors open into a bathroom and kitchen respectively. The last door leads to my private cabin.”

In turn these rooms were shown. Mr. Dancer’s cabin was similar to the others, but slightly larger. A writing desk and some scientific instruments were within it. The kitchen proved to be a perfectly equipped “ship’s galley,” clean and compact, and the bath room fixtures were of the whitest porcelain, and included a fine shower bath.

“Now for the engine room,” said Mr. Dancer, when the boys had expressed their delight over the features of the White Shark they had already seen.

He opened a metal door in the after bulkhead of the main cabin and ushered the partially bewildered lads through it. The engine room of the White Shark was an odd looking place. Instead of pipes and valves, wires and switches were everywhere. In the center of the metal floor26 were two powerful electric motors, and at the side of each was a dynamo which, Mr. Dancer explained, connected with the storage batteries in which electricity was stored for practically every purpose on the diving craft.

“I light, cook, and drive my engines by electricity,” explained their guide; “in fact, everything on board is done by it. Even my steering devices and aluminum diving apparatus is electrically controlled. It is simple, takes up but little room and is always efficient.”

“Those must be very powerful engines,” ventured Tom, who had been examining them with interest.

“They can develop more than 1500 horsepower each,” was the reply,27 “and weigh but very little in comparison with their efficiency. They will drive, or so I figure, the White Shark at twenty-five miles an hour on the surface, and might be made to develop thirty and even more miles per hour if pushed hard.”

“But you can’t go so fast under water,” said Jack.

“No; the resistance is, of course, much greater, but I hope to do twenty miles under the surface of the sea.”

“That will be faster than any submarine has ever gone?”

The question came from Tom.

“Yes, much faster, but then, in constructing the White Shark, I have got far away from the ordinary types of diving craft.”

“What is that long snout at the bow for?” asked Jack.

28

“That takes the place of a conning tower. It is a sort of telescope through which I can look out while running far under water. Near its end are concealed two small, but very powerful, searchlights that transform the perpetual darkness under the water to almost the light of day.”

“But on the surface,” asked Jack, who had seen submarines before at naval maneuvers, “don’t you use a conning tower?”

“No; we spy out our surroundings by an improved periscope, with the general principles of which I suppose you are familiar.”

“Yes; it’s a tube that can be raised above the surface and then reflects that surface upon a sort of desk, where the operator of the craft can see every detail plainly.”

“That describes it roughly. And now let us visit the steering room and the torpedo chamber. I also want to show you the submarine gun with which the White Shark is fitted.”

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“This surely is a wonder ship,” gasped Tom; “a submarine gun! I suppose we’ll be introduced to a submarine lawn-mower next.”

Passing back through the main chamber, they reached the bow. At the front end of the conical-shaped room was what appeared to be the mouth of a steel tube. This, the boys knew, was the lookout tube. The inventor switched on the lights and showed the wondering lads just how a ray of light, powerful enough to pierce the gloomy ocean depths, could be shot out from it. He then exhibited to them the periscope device and worked it for their benefit. By manipulating a crank the long tube of the periscope rose from the deck above, and upon the ground glass beneath its lower end the boys soon made out the details of the shed outside.

Behind the periscope attachment, and so situ30ated that it commanded a full view from the lookout tube, was the steering apparatus. But instead of the customary wheel all that appeared was a row of buttons and a switch board of polished wood.

The whole contrivance was not unlike the desk of a telephone “central,” which most of you boys must have seen. In fact, both Jack and Tom thought it was a telephone switch board, and said so.

Mr. Dancer smiled.

“There is communication with all parts of the boat from the steersman’s seat,” he said, “but it is by speaking tubes. I also have an automatic annunciator which signals the engine room if I want to go fast, slow, or to back up.”

“I noticed it when we were in the machinery section,” said Jack.31 “You have the entire boat under your control from here?”

“Yes; I could, in an emergency, stop the engines from here. But what I am most anxious to show you is my submarine gun and compressed-air devices for sending torpedoes on their deadly missions.”

He turned to what appeared to be a steel box affixed in the bow portion of the craft alongside the sighting tube. At one side of the box were levers, and a chute led down to it from above.

“The torpedoes are stored overhead,” explained the inventor;32 “when wanted this lever is pulled and one slides down and enters this box. From there it is launched by compressed air, which is piped here from the engine room. In my type of torpedo each missile carries its own miniature engine, also propelled by compressed air. When it leaves the side of the White Shark a catch within that ‘launching box’ engages a projection on the side of the torpedo which starts the miniature engine in the latter.”

“And the submarine gun?” asked Jack.

“Right here. Doesn’t look much like a gun, does it?”