Tom Swift and the Electronic Hydrolung | Page 5

take off, boss?"
"As soon as we get the rest of this gear stowed," Tom replied.
Twenty minutes later the Sky Queen soared toward the ocean. Soon
they came in sight of Fearing Island rocket base, a few miles off the
coast. Once a barren stretch of sand dunes and scrub-grass, the island
was now the Swifts' top-secret rocket laboratory, guarded by drone
planes and radar. It served as the supply base for Tom's space station
and as the launching area for all space flights. Seacopters and
jetmarines were also berthed here.
A radio call from Tom brought a sleek, strange-looking craft zooming
up to join them.
It was the Sea Hound, latest and largest model of Tom's amazing diving
seacopter. It had an enclosed central rotor, powered by atomic turbines,
with reversible-pitch blades for air lift or undersea diving. Superheated
steam jets provided forward propulsion in either element.
As the Sea Hound streaked alongside the Flying Lab, two figures in the
seacopter's flight compartment waved to Tom and Bud. One was Hank
Sterling, the blond, square-jawed chief pattern-making engineer of
Enterprises. The other was husky Arv Hanson, a talented craftsman
who transformed the blueprints of Tom's inventions into working
models.
"All set," Hank radioed. "Lead the way."
"Roger!" Tom replied.
Flying at supersonic speed, they reached the area of the lost missile in
the South Atlantic soon after lunch. Already on hand were ships of the
Navy task force assigned by Admiral Walter to participate in the

missile search. The Sea Hound settled down on the surface of the water,
while the Sky Queen hovered at low altitude nearby.
Tom contacted the government craft and learned that as yet no sign of
the lost Jupiter prober had been detected. Then he made ready to begin
his own search.
"Let's try the Fat Man suits first," Tom told Bud. Turning to Slim Davis,
a Swift test pilot who was in the crew, the young inventor added, "Take
over, will you, Slim?"
"Righto." Slim eased into the pilot's seat.
"Got a job for me, skipper?" asked Doc Simpson, Swift Enterprises'
young medic.
"Yes. Help the boys, if you like, rig the undersea elevator, and then
assemble a tractorized air dome," Tom suggested.
"Will do," Doc promised.
A ladder was dropped. Tom and Bud excitedly descended to the Sea
Hound. The search for the lost missile was about to begin!
Once the boys were aboard, the seacopter submerged and dived quickly
to the ocean floor. Tom and Bud each climbed into a Fat Man suit and
went out through the air lock. The suits, shaped like huge steel eggs
with a quartz-glass view plate for the operator seated within, had
mechanical arms and legs.
The boys waddled about, the built-in searchlights of their suits piercing
the murky gloom. They saw nothing but the deep accumulation of silt
on the ocean bottom, which made the going difficult.
"This is too slow," Tom called over his sonarphone. "Let's try the air
dome."
The dome was a huge underwater bubble of air, created by a repelatron
device which actually pushed the ocean water away. The air supply

inside was kept pure by one of Tom's osmotic air conditioners which
made use of the oxygen dissolved in the water.
The air bubble, however, even with its jet-propelled platform, also
proved inadequate for the research job. Its caterpillar treads repeatedly
bogged down in the silt.
"Maybe the seacopter itself is our best bet," Bud suggested.
"Worth a try," Tom urged.
But the Sea Hound, too, had a serious drawback. Even with its
powerful search beam sweeping the ocean floor as it prowled along, the
explorers found their vision too limited.
Finally Tom said, "Bud, we could skin-dive at this depth."
"Let's give it a whirl," Bud urged.
The seacopter surfaced again, while the boys donned flippers, masks,
and air lungs. Then they dropped over the side and made their way
slowly downward into the gray-green depths, accustoming themselves
gradually to the increased pressure.
"A lot more freedom of action," Tom thought. "If only we didn't have
to communicate by signals!"
There was a sudden swoosh somewhere on his right. A projectile, Tom
realized! Turning, his eyes widened in horror as he saw an uprush of
bubbles.
Bud's air tank had been hit!
CHAPTER III
INVISIBLE SUB
Without wasting a moment, Tom lunged through the water toward his
stricken friend. Bud was floundering and thrashing about weakly. He

seemed dazed by the sudden shock of his plight.
"Or maybe the impact of the projectile stunned him!" Tom surmised.
Bud began groping his way upward just as Tom came alongside of him.
Tom grabbed him as best he could, hooking onto his belt. At the same
time, the young inventor inhaled deeply, yanked out Bud's useless
mouthpiece, and inserted his own in