Tom Swift in Captivity Part 8

"You don't see anything of your rival circus friend, do you?" asked Tom, of the man who wanted a giant.

"Not a sign," was the answer, as Mr. Preston glanced over the throng of on-coming pa.s.sengers. "I guess we've either given him the slip, or he's given up the game. You won't have to worry about him. Just take it easy until you start for the interior, and from then on you'll have hard work enough."

The last of the cargo was being taken aboard, the late pa.s.sengers had arrived and were anxiously watching to see that their baggage was not lost. As Mr. Preston stood talking with Tom near the gangplank, a clerical looking gentleman approached the circus man.

"I beg your pardon," he began in mild accents, "but could you tell me where my stateroom is?" and he showed his ticket. "I'm not used to traveling," he needlessly added for that fact was very evident.

Mr. Preston informed him how to get to his berth, and the gentleman went on: "Are you going all the way to Buenos Ayres?"

"No, but my friend is," and the circus man nodded at Tom.

"Oh, I'm so glad!" the stranger exclaimed. "Then I shall have someone of whom I can ask questions. I am quite lost when I travel."

"I'll help you all I can," volunteered Tom, "and I'll show you to your stateroom now."

"Ah, thank you. Your name is--"

"Tom Swift," supplied the young inventor.

"Ah, yes, I believe I have read about your airs.h.i.+ps. I am the Reverend Josiah Blinderpool. I am taking a little vacation. I trust we shall become good friends."

"Humph, he's a regular infant, to be away from civilization," mused Tom, when he had showed the clergyman to the proper stateroom.

"He'll get into trouble, he's so innocent." If he could have seen that same "clergyman" double up with mirth when he had closed his stateroom door after him, Tom would not have felt so sure about that same "innocence."

"To think that I was talking face to face with Sam Preston and he never tumbled to who I was!" exclaimed the newcomer softly. "That's rich! Now if I play my cards right I shouldn't be surprised but what they'd invite me to come along with them. That would just suit me. I wouldn't have any trouble then, getting on the track of those giants. The information Waydell got from that red-haired Foger chap wasn't any too definite," and once more the man wearing the garb of a minister chuckled.

"Well, I'll say good-bye," remarked Mr. Preston, a little later, when the warning bell had rung. "I guess you'll get along all right.

I haven't seen a sign of Waydell, or any of his slick agents. You'll have no trouble I guess."

But if the circus man could have seen the "clergyman" at that same time looking over letters addressed to "Hank Delby," and signed "Wayland Waydell" he would not have been so confident.

Mr. Preston bade good-bye to his friends, the gangplank was hauled up, and a hoa.r.s.e blast came from the whistle of the Calaban.

"Bless my pocketbook!" cried Mr. Damon. "We're off!"

"Yep, off t' git dat big, giant orchard plant," chimed in Eradicate.

"Hus.h.!.+" exclaimed Tom, who did not like the use of the word "giant"

even in that connection. "Don't tell everyone our business, Rad."

"Dat's right, Ma.s.sa Tom. I clean done forgot dat it's a sort of secret. I'll keep mighty still 'bout it."

The Calaban swung out into the river and began steaming down the bay.

The first week of the voyage was uneventful. The weather was exceptionally fine, and hardly any one was seasick. The Reverend Mr.

Blinderpool was often on deck, and he made it a point to cultivate the acquaintance of Tom and his friends. In spite of the fact that he said he had traveled very little, he seemed to know much about hidden corners of the world, but always, as on an occasion when he had accidentally let slip some remark that showed he had been in far-off China or Asia, he would suddenly change the conversation when it verged to travel.

"There's something queer about that minister," said Ned after one of these occasions, "but I can't decide what it is."

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Tom, who rather liked the man.

"No nonsense about it. Why should a minister take a trip like this when he isn't sick, and when he isn't going to establish a mission in South America? There's something queer about it, for, by his own words he just took this voyage as a whim."

"Oh, you're too fussy," declared Tom; and for the time the subject was dropped.

They ran into a storm when about ten days out, and for a while they had a rough time of it, and then the weather cleared again.

It was one evening, after the formal dinner, when Tom and Ned were strolling about on deck, before turning in, that, the quiet of the s.h.i.+p was broken by what is always an alarming cry at sea.

"Fire! Fire!" shouted a man, pointing to a thin wisp of smoke curling up from the deck amids.h.i.+ps.

"Keep quiet!" yelled one of the stewards. "It is nothing!"

"It's a fire, I tell you!" insisted the man, and several others took up the cry.

A panic was imminent, and the captain came running from his quarters.

"What is it?" he asked.

An officer hurried to his side, and said something but in such a low voice that Tom, who was standing close beside the two, scarcely heard it. But he did hear this:

"There's a fire, sir, in hold number seventeen. We have turned the hose in there, and the pumps are working."

"Very good, Mr. Meld. Now try and quiet the pa.s.sengers. Tell them it doesn't amount to much, and if it does we can flood that compartment."

Tom started at that.

"Come on, Ned!" he cried, grabbing his chum by the arm.

"Why, what's up? What's the matter?"

"Matter? Matter enough! The fire is in the hold where all our stuff is stored, and if the flames reach that box I packed last--well, I wouldn't give much for the s.h.i.+p!" and fairly dragging his chum along, Tom raced for the place where the smoke was now coming up in thicker clouds.

CHAPTER VIII

A NARROW ESCAPE

"Here, come back! You can't go past here!"

"But I've got to go! I tell you I must go! It's important!"

The first speaker was one of the s.h.i.+p's officers, and the other was Tom Swift, who, accompanied by his chum, was trying to get past a rope that had been hastily stretched in front of the hold where the smoke was rolling up in ever-thickening clouds.

"It's important that you stay where you are," insisted the officer.

"Look here young man, do you want to start a panic? You know what that is on board s.h.i.+p. Keep cool, we'll get the fire out all right."