Tom Swift and His Great Searchlight Part 20

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I believe that we have been deceived by a false clew. The smugglers probably had no intention of getting goods across at this point to-night. They saw to it that my agent got false information, believing that we would follow it, and leave the vicinity of Logansville."

"So they could operate there?" asked Tom.

"That's it," replied the agent. "They drew us off the scent. There's no help for it. We must get back as soon as we can. My! This is a bad storm!" he added, as a blast careened the airs.h.i.+p.

CHAPTER XV

THE RESCUE ON THE LAKE

For a time the Falcon shot onward through the storm and darkness, for Tom did not want to give up. With but a single shaded light in the pilot house, so that he could see to read the gauges and dials, telling of the condition of the machinery in the motor room, he pushed his stanch craft ahead. At times she would be forced downward toward the angry waters of Lake Ontario, over which she was sailing, but the speed of her propellers and the buoyancy of the gas bag, would soon lift her again.

"How much longer are you going to stay?" called Ned in his chum's ear--called loudly, not to be heard above the noise of the airs.h.i.+p, but above the racket of the gale.

"Oh, I guess we may as well start back," spoke Tom, after a look at the clock on the wall. "We can just about make our camp by daylight, and they won't see us."

"It won't be light very early," observed Mr. Whitford, looking in the pilot house from the cabin, just aft of it. "But there is no use waiting around here any more, Tom. They gave us a false clew, all right."

"Bless my police badge!" cried Mr. Damon. "They must be getting desperate."

"I believe they are," went on the custom officer. "They are afraid of us, and that's a good sign. We'll keep right after 'em, too. If we don't get 'em this week, we will next. Better put back."

"I will," decided the young inventor.

"It certainly is a gale," declared Ned, as he made his way along a dim pa.s.sage, as few lights had been set aglow, for fear of the smugglers seeing the craft outlined in the air. Now, however, when it was almost certain that they were on the wrong scent, Tom switched on the incandescents, making the interior of the Falcon more pleasant.

The giant came into the pilot house to help Tom, and the airs.h.i.+p was turned about, and headed toward Logansville. The wind was now sweeping from the north across Lake Ontario, and it was all the powerful craft could do to make headway against it.

There came a terrific blast, which, in spite of all that Tom and Koku could do, forced the Falcon down, dangerously close to the das.h.i.+ng billows.

"Hard over, Koku!" called Tom to his giant.

As the airs.h.i.+p began to respond to the power of her propellers, and the up-tilted rudder, Tom heard, from somewhere below him, a series of shrill blasts on a whistle.

"What's that?" he cried.

"Sounds like a boat below us," answered Mr. Whitford.

"I guess it is," agreed the young inventor. "There she goes again."

Once more came the frantic tooting of a whistle, and mingled with it could be heard voices shouting in fear, but it was only a confused murmur of sound. No words could be made out.

"That's a compressed air whistle!" decided Tom. "It must be some sort of a motor boat in distress. Quick, Mr. Whitford! Tell Ned to switch on the searchlight, and play it right down on the lake. If there's a boat in this storm it can't last long. Even an ocean liner would have trouble. Get the light on quick, and we'll see what we can do!"

It was the work of but an instant to convey the message to Ned. The latter called Mr. Damon to relieve him in the motor room, and, a few seconds later, Ned had switched on the electricity. By means of the lazy-tongs, and the toggle joints, the bank clerk lifted the lantern over until the powerful beam from it was projected straight down into the seething waters of the lake.

"Do you see anything?" asked Mr. Damon from the motor room, at one side of which Ned stood to operate the lantern.

"Nothing but white-caps," was the answer. "It's a fearful storm."

Once more came the series of shrill whistles, and the confused calling of voices. Ned opened a window, in order to hear more plainly. As the whistle tooted again he could locate the sound, and, by swinging the rays of the searchlight to and fro he finally picked up the craft.

"There she is!" he cried, peering down through the plate gla.s.s window in the floor of the motor room. "It's a small gasolene boat, and there are several men in her! She's having a hard time."

"Can we rescue them?" asked Mr. Damon.

"If anybody can, Tom Swift will," was Ned's reply. Then came a whistle from the speaking tube, that led to the pilot house.

"What is it?" asked Ned, putting the tube to his ear.

"Stand by for a rescue!" ordered Tom, who had also, through a window in the floor of the pilot house, seen the hapless motor boat. The men in it were frantically waving their hands to those on the airs.h.i.+p. "I'm going down as close as I dare," went on Tom. "You watch, and when it's time, have Koku drop from the stern a long, knotted rope. That will be a sort of ladder, and they can make it fast to their boat and climb up, hand over hand. It's the only plan."

"Good!" cried Ned. "Send Koku to me. Can you manage alone in the pilot house?"

"Yes," came back the answer through the tube.

Koku came back on the run, and was soon tying knots in a strong rope. Meanwhile Ned kept the light on the tossing boat, while Tom, through a megaphone had called to the men to stand by to be rescued.

The whistle frantically tooted their thanks.

Koku went out on the after deck, and, having made the knotted rope fast, dropped the end overboard. Then began a difficult feature of airs.h.i.+p steering. Tom, looking down through the gla.s.s, watched the boat in the glare of the light. Now coming forward, now reversing against the rush of the wind; now going up, and now down, the young inventor so directed the course of his airs.h.i.+p so that, finally, the rope dragged squarely across the tossing boat.

In a trice the men grabbed it, and made it fast. Then Tom had another difficult task--that of not allowing the rope to become taut, or the drag of the boat, and the uplift of the airs.h.i.+p might have snapped it in twain. But he handled his delicate craft of the air as confidently as the captain of a big liner brings her skillfully to the deck against wind and tide.

"Climb up! Climb up!" yelled Tom, through the megaphone, and he saw, not a man, but a woman, ascending the knotted rope, hand over hand, toward the airs.h.i.+p that hovered above her head.

CHAPTER XVI

KOKU'S PRISONER

"Bless my knitting needles!" cried Mr. Damon, as he looked down, and saw, in the glare of the great light, the figure of the woman clinging to the swaying rope. "Help her, someone! Tom! Ned! She'll fall!"

The eccentric man started to rush from the motor room, where he had been helping Ned. But the latter cried:

"Stay where you are, Mr. Damon. No one can reach her now without danger to himself and her. She can climb up, I think."

Past knot after knot the woman pa.s.sed, mounting steadily upward, with a strength that seemed remarkable.

"Come on!" cried Tom to the others. "Don't wait until she gets up.

There isn't time. Come on--the rope will hold you all! Climb up!"