Tom Swift And His Motor Boat
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Victor Appleton >> Tom Swift And His Motor Boat
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10 TOM SWIFT AND HIS MOTOR-BOAT
Or The Rivals of Lake Carlopa
By VICTOR APPLETON
CONTENTS
I ----- A Motor-boat Auction
II ---- Some Lively Bidding
III --- A Timely Warning
IV ---- Tom And Andy Clash
V ----- A Test Of Speed
VI ---- Towing Some Girls
VII --- A Brush With Andy
VIII -- Off On A Trip
IX ---- Mr. Swift Is Alarmed
X ----- A Cry For Help
XI ---- A Quick Run
XII --- Suspicious Characters
XIII -- Tom In Danger
XIV --- The ARROW Disappears
XV ---- A Damaging Statement
XVI --- Still On The Search
XVII -- "There She Is!"
XVIII - The Pursuit
XIX --- A Quiet Cruise
XX ---- News Of A Robbery
XXI --- The Balloon On Fire
XXII -- The Rescue
XXIII - Plans For An Airship
XXIV -- The Mystery Solved
XXV --- Winning A Race
CHAPTER I
A MOTOR-BOAT AUCTION
"Where are you going, Tom?" asked Mr. Barton Swift of his son as
the young man was slowly pushing his motor-cycle out of the yard
toward the country road. "You look as though you had some object
in view."
"So I have, dad. I'm going over to Lanton."
"To Lanton? What for?"
"I want to have a look at that motor-boat."
"Which boat is that, Tom? I don't recall your speaking about a
boat over at Lanton. What do you want to look at it for?"
"It's the motor-boat those fellows had who tried to get away with
your turbine model invention, dad. The one they used at the old
General Harkness mansion, in the woods near the lake, and the same
boat that fellow used when he got away from me the day I was
chasing him here."
"Oh, yes, I remember now. But what is the boat doing over at
Lanton?"
"That's where it belongs. It's the property of Mr. Bently
Hastings. The thieves stole it from him, and when they ran away
from the old mansion, the time Mr. Damon and I raided the place,
they left the boat on the lake. I turned it over to the county
authorities, and they found out it belonged to Mr. Hastings. He
has it back now, but I understand it's somewhat damaged, and he
wants to get rid of it. He's going to sell it at auction to-day,
and I thought I'd go over and take a look at it. You see--"
"Yes, I see, Tom," exclaimed Mr. Swift with a laugh. "I see what
you're aiming at. You want a motor-boat, and you're going all
around Robin Hood's barn to get at it."
"No, dad, I only--"
"Oh, I know you, Tom, my lad!" interrupted the inventor, shaking
his finger at his son, who seemed somewhat confused. "You have a
nice rowing skiff and a sailboat, yet you are hankering for a
motor-boat. Come now, own up. Aren't you?"
"Well, dad, a motor-boat certainly would go fine on Lake Carlopa.
There's plenty of room to speed her, and I wonder there aren't
more of them. I was going to see what Mr. Hastings' boat would
sell for, but I didn't exactly think of buying it' Still--"
"But you wouldn't buy a damaged boat, would you?"
"It isn't much damaged," and in his eagerness the young inventor
(for Tom Swift had taken out several patents) stood his
motor-cycle up against the fence and came closer to his father.
"It's only slightly damaged," he went on. "I can easily fix it.
I looked it all over before I gave it in charge of the
authorities, and it's certainly a fine boat. It's worth nine
hundred dollars--or it was when it was new."
"That's a good deal of money for a boat," and Mr. Swift looked
serious, for though he was well off, he was inclined to be
conservative.
"Oh, I shouldn't think of paying that much. In fact, dad, I
really had no idea of bidding at the auction. I only thought I'd
go over and get an idea of what the boat might sell for. Perhaps
some day--"
Tom paused. Since his father had begun to question him some new
plans had come into the lad's head. He looked at his parent and
saw a smile beginning to work around the corners of Mr. Swift's
lips. There was also a humorous look in the eyes of the older
inventor. He understood boys fairly well, even if he only had
one, and he knew Tom perfectly.
"Would you really like to make a bid on that boat Tom?" he asked.
"Would I, dad? Well--" The youth did not finish, but his father
knew what he meant.
"I suppose a motor-boat would be a nice thing to have on Lake
Carlopa," went on Mr. Swift musingly. "You and I could take
frequent trips in it. It isn't like a motor-cycle, only useful
for one. What do you suppose the boat will go for, Tom?"
"I hardly know. Not a high price, I believe, for motor-boats are
so new on our lake that few persons will take a chance on them.
But if Mr. Hastings is getting another, he will not be so
particular about insisting on a high price for the old one. Then,
too, the fact that it is damaged will help to keep the price down,
though I know I can easily put it in good shape. I would like to
make a bid, if you think it's all right."
Well, I guess you may, Tom, if you really want it. You have money
of your own and a motor-boat is not a bad investment. What do you
think ought to be the limit?"
"Would you consider a hundred and fifty dollars too high?"
Mr. Swift looked at Tom critically. He was plainly going over
several matters in his mind, and not the least of them was the
pluck his son had shown in getting back some valuable papers and a
model from a gang of thieves. The lad certainly was entitled to
some reward, and to allow him to get a boat might properly be part
of it.
"I think you could safely go as high as two hundred dollars, Tom,"
said Mr. Swift at length. "That would be my limit on a damaged
boat for it might be better to pay a little more and get a new
one. However, use your own judgment, but don't go over two
hundred. So the thieves who made so much trouble for me stole
that boat from Mr. Hastings, eh?"
"Yes, and they didn't take much care of it either. They damaged
the engine, but the hull is in good shape. I'm ever so glad
you'll let me bid on it. I'll start right off. The auction is at
ten o'clock and I haven't more than time to get there."
"Now be careful how you bid. Don't raise your own figures, as
I've sometimes seen women, and men too, do in their excitement.
Somebody may go over your head; and if he does, let them. If you
get the boat I'll be very glad on your account. But don't bring
any of Anson Morse's gang back in it with you. I've seen enough
of them."
"I'll not dad!" cried Tom as he trundled his motor-cycle out of
the gate and into the country road that led to the village of
Shopton, where he lived, and to Lanton, where the auction was to
be held. The young inventor had not gone far before he turned
back, leaving his machine standing on the side path.
"What's the matter?" asked his father, who had started toward one
of several machine shops on the premises--shops where Mr. Swift
and his son did inventive work.
"Guess I'd better get a blank check and some money," replied Tom
as he entered the house. "I'll need to pay a deposit if I secure
the boat."
"That's so. Well, good luck," and with his mind busy on a plan
for a new kind of storage battery, the inventor went on to his
workroom. Tom got some cash and his checkbook from a small safe
he owned and was soon speeding over the road to Lanton, his motor-
cycle making quite a cloud of dust. While he is thus hurrying
along to the auction I will tell you something about him.
Tom Swift, son of Barton Swift, lived with his father and a
motherly housekeeper, Mrs. Baggert, in a large house on the
outskirts of the town of Shopton, in New York State. Mr. Swift
had acquired considerable wealth from his many inventions and
patents, but he did not give up working out his ideas simply
because he had plenty of money. Tom followed in the footsteps of
his parent and had already taken out several patents.
Shortly before this story opens the youth had become possessed of
a motor-cycle in a peculiar fashion. As told in the first volume
of this series, entitled "Tom Swift and His Motor-cycle," Tom was
riding to the town of Mansburg on an errand for his father one day
when he was nearly run down by a motorcyclist. A little later the
same motorcyclist, who was a Mr. Wakefield Damon, of Waterfield,
collided with a tree near Tom's home and was severely cut and
bruised, the machine being broken. Tom and his father cared for
the injured rider, and Mr. Damon, who was an eccentric individual,
was so disheartened by his attempts to ride the motor-cycle that
he sold it to Tom for fifty dollars, though it had cost much more.
About the same time that Tom bought the motor-cycle a firm of
rascally lawyers, Smeak & Katch by name, had, in conjunction with
several men, made an attempt to get control of an invention of a
turbine motor perfected by Mr. Swift. The men, who were Ferguson
Appleson, Anson Morse, Wilson Featherton, alias Simpson, and Jake
Burke, alias Happy Harry, who sometimes disguised himself as a
tramp, tried several times to steal the model.
Their anxiety to get it was due to the fact that they had invested
a large sum in a turbine motor invented by another man, but their
motor would not work and they sought to steal Mr. Swift's. Tom
was sent to Albany on his motor-cycle to deliver the model and
some valuable papers to Mr. Crawford, of the law firm of Reid &
Crawford, of Washington, attorneys for Mr. Swift. Mr. Crawford
had an errand in Albany and had agreed to meet Tom there with the
model.
But, on the way, Tom was attacked by the gang of unscrupulous men
and the model was stolen. He was assaulted and carried far away
in an automobile. In an attempt to capture the gang in a deserted
mansion, in the woods on the shore of Lake Carlopa, Tom was aided
by Mr. Damon, of whom he had purchased the motor-cycle. The men
escaped, however, and nothing could be done to punish them.
Tom was thinking of the exciting scenes he had passed through
about a month previous as he spun along the road leading to
Lanton.
"I hope I don't meet Happy Harry or any of his gang to-day," mused
the lad as he turned on a little more power to enable his machine
to mount a hill. "I don't believe they'll attend the auction,
though. It would be too risky for them."
As Tom swung along at a rapid pace he heard, behind him, the
puffing of an automobile, with the muffler cut out. He turned and
cast a hasty glance behind.
"I hope that ain't Andy Foger or any of his cronies," he said to
himself. "He might try to run me down just for spite. He
generally rushes along with the muffler open so as to attract
attention and make folks think he has a racing car."
It was not Andy, however, as Tom saw a little later, as a man
passed him in a big touring car. Andy Foger, as my readers will
recollect, was a red-haired, squinty-eyed lad with plenty of money
and not much else. He and his cronies, including Sam Snedecker,
nearly ran Tom down one day, when the latter was on his bicycle,
as told in the first volume of this series. Andy had been off on
a tour with his chums during the time when Tom was having such
strenuous adventures and had recently returned.
"If I can only get that boat," mused Tom as he swung back into the
middle of the road after the auto had passed him, "I certainly
will have lots of fun. I'll make a week's tour of Lake Carlopa
and take dad and Ned Newton with me." Ned was Tom's most
particular chum, but as young Newton was employed in the Shopton
bank, the lad did not have much time for pleasure. Lake Carlopa
was a large body of water, and it would take a moderately powered
boat several days to make a complete circuit of the shore, so cut
up into bays and inlets was it.
In about an hour Tom was at Lanton, and as he neared the home of
Mr. Hastings, which was on the shore of the lake, he saw quite a
throng going down toward the boathouse.
"There'll be some lively bidding," thought Tom as he got off his
machine and pushed it ahead of him through the drive and down
toward the river. I hope they don't go above two hundred dollars,
though."
"Get out the way there!" called a sudden voice, and looking back,
Tom saw that an automobile had crept up silently behind him. In
it were Andy Foger and Sam Snedecker. "Why don't you get out the
way?" petulantly demanded the red-haired lad.
"Because I don't choose to," replied Tom calmly, knowing that Andy
would never dare to speed up his machine on the slope leading down
to the lake.
"Go ahead, bump him!" the young inventor heard Sam whisper.
"You'd better try it, if you want to get the best trouncing you
ever had!" cried Tom hotly.
"Hu! I s'pose you think you're going to bid on the boat?" sneered
Andy.
"Is there any law against it?" asked Tom.
"Hu! Well, you'll not get it. I'm going to take that boat,"
retorted the squint-eyed bully. "Dad gave me the money to get
it."
"All right," answered Tom non-committally. "Go ahead. It's a
free country."
He stood his motor-cycle up against a tree and went toward a group
of persons who were surrounding the auctioneer. The time had
arrived to start the sale. As Tom edged in closer he brushed
against a man who looked at him sharply. The lad was just
wondering if he had ever seen the individual before, as there
seemed to be something strangely familiar about him, when the man
turned quickly away, as if afraid of being recognized.
"That's odd," thought Tom, but he had no further time for
speculation, as the auctioneer was mounting on a soapbox and had
begun to address the gathering.
CHAPTER II
SOME LIVELY BIDDING
"Attention, people!" cried the auctioneer. "Give me your
attention for a few minutes, and we will proceed with the business
in hand. As you all know, I am about to dispose of a fine motor-
boat, the property of Mr. Bently Hastings. The reason for
disposing of it at auction is known to most of you, but for the
benefit of those who do not, I will briefly state them. The boat
was stolen by a gang of thieves and recovered recently through the
efforts of a young man, Thomas Swift, son of Barton Swift, our
fellow-townsman, of Shopton." At that moment the auctioneer, Jacob
Wood, caught sight of Tom in the press, and, looking directly at
the lad, continued:
"I understand that young Mr. Swift is here to-day, and I hope he
intends to bid on this boat. If he does, the bidding will be
lively, for Tom Swift is a lively young man. I wish I could say
that some of the men who stole the boat were here to-day."
The auctioneer paused and there were some murmurs from those in
the throng as to why such a wish should be uttered. Tom felt some
one moving near him, and, looking around, he saw the same man with
whom he had come in contact before. The person seemed desirous of
getting out on the edge of the crowd, and Tom felt a return of his
vague suspicions. He looked closely at the fellow, but could
trace no resemblance to any of the men who had so daringly stolen
his father's model.
"The reason I wish they were here to-day," went on Mr. Wood, "is
that the men did some slight damage to the boat, and if they were
here to-day we would make them pay for it. However, the damage is
slight and can easily be repaired. I mention that, as Mr.
Hastings desired me to. Now we will proceed with the bidding, and
I will say that an opportunity will first be given all to examine
the boat. Perhaps Tom Swift will give us his opinion on the state
it is in as we know he is well qualified to talk about machinery."
All eyes were turned on Tom, for many knew him.
"Humph! I guess I know as much about boats and motors as he does,"
sneered Andy Foger. 'He isn't the only one in this crowd! Why
didn't the auctioneer ask me?"
"Keep quiet," begged Sam Snedecker. "People are laughing at you,
Andy."
"I don't care if they are," muttered the sandy haired youth. "Tom
Swift needn't think he's everything."
"If you will come down to the dock," went on the auctioneer, "you
can all see the boat, and I would be glad to have young Mr. Swift
give us the benefit of his advice."
The throng trooped down to the lake, and, blushing somewhat, Tom
told what was the matter with the motor and how it could be fixed.
It was noticed that there was less enthusiasm over the matter than
there had been, for certainly the engine, rusty and out of order
as it was, did not present an attractive sight. Tom noted that
the man, who had acted so strangely, did not come down to the
dock.
"Guess he can't be much interested in the motor," decided Tom.
"Now then, if it's all the same to you folks, I'll proceed with
the auction here," went on Mr. Wood. "You can all see the boat
from here. It is, as you see, a regular family launch and will
carry twelve persons comfortably. With a canopy fitted to it a
person could cruise all about the lake and stay out over night,
for you could sleep on the seat cushions. It is twenty-one feet
in length and has a five-and-a-half-foot beam, the design being
what is known as a compromise stern. The motor is a double-
cylinder two-cycle one, of ten horsepower. It has a float-feed
carburetor, mechanical oiler, and the ignition system is the jump-
spark--the best for this style of motor. The boat will make ten
miles an hour, with twelve in, and, of course, more than that with
a lighter load. A good deal will depend on the way the motor is
managed.
"Now, as you know, Mr. Hastings wishes to dispose of the boat
partly because he does not wish to repair it and partly because he
has a newer and larger one. The craft, which is named CARLOPA by
the way, cost originally nine hundred dollars. It could not be
purchased new to day, in many places, for a thousand. Now what am
I offered in its present condition? Will any one make an offer?
Will you give me five hundred dollars?"
The auctioneer paused and looked critically at the throng.
Several persons smiled. Tom looked worried. He had no idea that
the price would start so high.
"Well, perhaps that is a bit stiff," went on Mr. Wood. "Shall we
say four hundred dollars? Come now, I'm sure it's worth four
hundred. Who'll start it at four hundred?"
No one would, and the auctioneer descended to three hundred, then
to two and finally, as if impatient, he called out:
"Well, will any one start at fifty dollars?"
Instantly there were several cries of "I will!"
"I thought you would," went on the auctioneer. "Now we will get
down to work. I'm offered fifty dollars for this twenty-one foot,
ten horsepower family launch. Will any one make it sixty?"
"Sixty!" called out Andy Foger in a shrill voice. Several turned
to look at him.
"I didn't know he was going to bid," thought Tom. "He may go
above me. He's got plenty of money, and, while I have too, I'm
not going to pay too much for a damaged boat."
"Sixty I'm bid, sixty--sixty!" cried Mr. Wood in a sing-song
tone, "who'll make it seventy?"
"Sixty-five!" spoke a quiet voice at Tom's elbow, and he turned to
see the mysterious man who had joined the crowd at the edge of the
lake.
"Sixty-five from the gentleman in the white straw hat!" called Mr.
Wood with a smile at his wit, for there were many men wearing
white straw hats, the day being a warm one in June.
"Here, who's bidding above me?" exclaimed Andy, as if it was
against the law.
"I guess you'll find a number going ahead of you, my young
friend," remarked the auctioneer. "Will you have the goodness not
to interrupt me, except when you want to bid?"
"Well, I offered sixty," said the squint-eyed bully, while his
crony, Sam Snedecker, was vainly, pulling at his sleeve.
"I know you did, and this gentleman went above you. If you want
to bid more you can do so. I'm offered sixty-five, sixty-five I'm
offered for this boat. Will any one make it seventy-five?"
Mr. Wood looked at Tom, and our hero, thinking it was time for
him to make a bid, offered seventy. "Seventy from Tom Swift!"
cried the auctioneer. "There is a lad who knows a motor-boat
from stem to stern, if those are the right words. I don't know
much about boats except what I'm told, but Tom Swift does. Now,
if he bids, you people ought to know that it's all right. I'm
bid seventy--seventy I'm bid. Will any one make it eighty?"
"Eighty!" exclaimed Andy Foger after a whispered conference with
Sam. "I know as much about boats as Tom Swift. I'll make it
eighty."
"No side remarks. I'll do most of the talking. You just bid,
young man," remarked Mr. Wood. "I have eighty bid for this
boat--eighty dollars. Why, my friends, I can't understand this.
I ought to have it up to three hundred dollars, at least. But I
thank you all the same. We are coming on. I'm bid eighty--"
"Ninety!" exclaimed the quiet man at Tom's elbow. He was
continually fingering his upper lip, as though he had a mustache
there, but his face was clean-shaven. He looked around nervously
as he spoke.
"Ninety!" called out the auctioneer.
"Ninety-five!" returned Tom. Andy Foger scowled at him, but the
young inventor only smiled. It was evident that the bully did not
relish being bid against. He and his crony whispered together
again.
"One hundred!" called Andy, as if no one would dare go above that.
"I'm offered an even hundred," resumed Mr. Wood. "We are
certainly coming on. A hundred I am bid, a hundred--a hundred--a
hundred--"
"And five," said the strange man hastily, and he seemed to choke
as he uttered the words.
"Oh, come now; we ought to have at least ten-dollar bids from now
on," suggested Mr. Wood. "Won't you make it a hundred and ten?"
The auctioneer looked directly at the man, who seemed to shrink
back into the crowd. He shook his head, cast a sort of despairing
look at the boat and hurried away.
"That's queer," murmured Tom. "I guess that was his limit, yet if
he wanted the boat badly that wasn't a high price."
"Who's going ahead of me?" demanded Andy in loud tones.
"Keep quiet!" urged Sam. "We may get it yet."
"Yes, don't make so many remarks," counseled the auctioneer. "I'm
bid a hundred and five. Will any one make it a hundred and
twenty-five?"
Tom wondered why the man bad not remained to see if his bid was
accepted, for no one raised it at once, but he hurried off and did
not look back. Tom took a sudden resolve.
"A hundred and twenty-five!" he called out.
"That's what I like to hear," exclaimed Mr. Wood. "Now we are
doing business. A hundred and twenty-five from Tom Swift. Will
any one offer me fifty?"
Andy and Sam seemed to be having some dispute.
"Let's make him quit right now," suggested Andy in a hoarse
whisper.
"You can't," declared Sam'
"Yes, I can. I'll go up to my limit right now."
"And some one will go above you---maybe Tom will," was Sam's
retort.
"I don't believe he can afford to," Andy came back with. "I'm
going to call his bluffs. I believe he's only bidding to make
others think he wants it. I don't believe he'll buy it."
Tom heard what was said, but did not reply. The auctioneer was
calling monotonously: "I'm bid a hundred and twenty-five--twenty-five.
Will any one make it fifty?"
"A hundred and fifty!" sang out Andy, and all eyes were directed
toward him.
"Sixty!" said Tom quietly.
"Here, you--" began the red-haired lad. You--"
"That will do!" exclaimed the auctioneer sternly. "I am offered a
hundred and sixty. Now who will give me an advance? I want to get
the boat up to two hundred, and then the real bidding will begin."
Tom's heart sank. He hoped it would be some time before a two
hundred dollar offer would be heard. As for Andy Foger, he was
almost speechless with rage. He shook off the restraining arm of
Sam, and, worming his way to the front of the throng, exclaimed:
"I'll give a hundred and seventy-five dollars for that boat!"
"Good!" cried the auctioneer. "That's the way to talk. I'm
offered a hundred and seventy-five."
"Eighty," said Tom quietly, though his heart was beating fast.
"Well, of all--" began Andy, but Sam Snedecker dragged him back.
"You haven't got any more money," said the bully's crony.
"Better stop now."
"I will not! I'm going home for more," declared Andy. "I must
have that boat."
"It will be sold when you get back," said Sam.
"Haven't you got any money you can lend me?" inquired the squint-
eyed one, scowling in Tom's direction.
"No, not a bit. There, some one raised Tom's bid."
At that moment a man in the crowd offered a hundred and eighty-one
dollars.
"Small amounts thankfully received," said Mr. Wood with a laugh.
Then the bidding became lively, a number making one-dollar
advances.
The price got up to one hundred and ninety-five dollars and there
it hung for several minutes, despite the eloquence of Mr. Wood,
who tried by all his persuasive powers to get a substantial
advance. But every one seemed afraid to bid. As for the young
inventor, he was in a quandary. He could only offer five dollars
more, and, if he bid it in a lump, some one might go to two
hundred and five, and he would not get the boat. He wished he had
secured permission from his father to go higher, yet he knew that
as a fair proposition two hundred dollars was about all the motor-
boat in its present condition was worth, at least to him. Then he
made a sudden resolve. He thought he might as well have the
suspense over.
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