Chapter Twenty-Four
Won by a Length
Rising upward, on a steep slant, for he wanted to get into the uppercurrents as soon as possible, Tom looked down and off to his left andsaw one machine going over the ground in curious leaps and bounds. Itwas the tiny Demoiselle--the smallest craft in the race, and itspeculiar style of starting was always thus manifested.
"I don't believe he's going to make it," thought Tom.
He was right. In another moment the tiny craft, after rising a shortdistance, dove downward, and was wrecked. The young inventor saw thetwo men crawling out from the tangled planes and wings, apparentlyuninjured.
"One contestant less," thought Tom, grimly, though with pity in hisheart for the unfortunates.
However, he must think of himself and his own craft now. He glanced atMr. Damon sitting beside him. That odd gentleman, with never a thoughtof blessing anything now, unless he did it silently, was watching thelubricating system. This was a vital part of the craft, for if anythingwent wrong with it, and the bearings overheated, the race would have tobe abandoned. So Tom was not trusting to any automatic arrangement, buthad instituted, almost at the last moment, a duplicate hand-workedsystem, so that if one failed him he would have the other.
"A good start!" shouted Mr. Damon in his ear.
Tom nodded, and glanced behind him. On a line with the Humming-Bird,and at about the same elevation, were the Bleriot monoplane and aWright biplane. Below were the Santos-Dumont and the Antoinette.
"Where's the Slugger?" called Tom to his friend.
Mr. Damon motioned upward. There, in the air above Tom's machine, andslightly in advance, was Andy Foger's craft. He had gotten away inbetter shape than had the Humming-Bird.
For a moment Tom's heart misgave him. Then he turned on more power, andhad the satisfaction of mounting upward and shooting onward until hewas on even terms with Andy.
The bully gave one glance over toward his rival, and pulled a lever.The Slugger increased her speed, but Tom was not a second behind him.
There was a roaring noise in the rear, and up shot De Tromp in theFarman, and Loi Tong, the little Japanese, in the Santos-Dumont. Trulythe race was going to be a hotly contested one. But the end was far offyet.
After the first jockeying for a start and position, the race settleddown into what might be termed a "grind." The course was a large one,but so favorable was the atmosphere that day, and such was the locationof Eagle Park in a great valley, that even on the far side of the greatellipse the contestants could be seen, dimly with the naked eye, butvery plainly with glasses, with which many of the spectators wereprovided.
Around and around they went, at no very great height, for it wasnecessary to make out the signals set up by the race officials, so thatthe contestants would know when they were near the finish, that theymight use the last atom of speed. So at varying heights the wonderfulmachines circled about the course.
The Humming-Bird was working well, and Tom felt a sense of pride as hesaw the ground slipping away below him. He felt sure that he would win,even when Alameda, the Spaniard, in the Antoinette, came creeping up onhim, and even when Andy Foger, with a burst of speed, placed himselfand his passenger in the lead.
"I'll catch him!" muttered Tom, and he opened the throttle a triflewider, and went after Andy, passing him with ease.
They had covered about thirty miles of the course, when the humming andcrackling of the wireless apparatus told Tom that a message was coming.He snapped the receiver to his ear, adjusting the outer covering toshut out the racket of the motor, and listened.
"Well?" asked Mr. Damon, as Tom took off the receiver.
"Dad isn't quite so well," answered the lad. "Mr. Jackson says theyhave sent for Dr. Hendrix again. But dad is game. He sends me word togo on and win, and I'll do it, too, only--"
Tom paused, and choked back a sob. Then he prepared to get more speedout of his motor.
"Of course you will!" cried Mr. Damon. "Bless my--!"
But they encountered an adverse current of wind at that moment, and itrequired the attention of both of the aviators to manage the machine.It was soon on an even keel again, and once more was shooting forwardaround the course.
At times Tom would be in advance, and again he would have to give placeto the Curtis, the Farman, or the Santos-Dumont, as these speedymachines, favored by a spurt from their motors, or by some current ofair, shot ahead. But, in general, Tom maintained the lead, and amongthe spectators there began a series of guesses as to how much he wouldwin by.
Tom glanced at the barograph. It registered a little over twelvehundred feet. He looked at the speed gage. He was doing a trifle betterthan a hundred miles an hour. He looked down at the signals. There wastwenty miles yet to go. It was almost time for the spurt for which hehad been holding back. Yet he would wait until five miles from the end,and then he felt that he could gain and maintain a lead.
"Andy seems to be doing well," said Mr. Damon.
"Yes, he has a good machine," conceded Tom.
Five miles more were reeled off. Then another five. Another round ofthat distance and Tom would key his motor up to the highest pitch, andthen the Humming-Bird would show what she could do. Eagerly Tom waitedfor the right signal.
Suddenly the wireless began buzzing again. Quickly the young inventorclamped the receiver to his ear. Mr. Damon saw him turn pale.
"Dr. Gladby says dad has a turn for the worse. There is little hope,"translated Tom.
"Will you--are you going to quit?" asked Mr. Damon.
Tom shook his head.
"No!" he cried. "My father has become unconscious, so Mr. Jackson says,but his last words were to me: 'Tell Tom to win the race!' And I'mgoing to do it!"
Tom suddenly changed his plans. There was to be no waiting for thesignal now. He would begin his final spurt, and if possible finish thehundred miles at his utmost speed, win the race and then hasten to hisfather's side.
With a menacing roar the motor of the Humming-Bird took up theadditional power that Tom sent into her. She shot ahead like an eagledarting after his prey. Tom opened up a big gap between his machine andthe one nearest him, which, at that moment, was the Antoinette, withthe Spaniard driving her.
"Now to win!" cried Tom, grimly.
Surely no race was ever flown as was that one! Tom flashed through theair so quickly that his speed was almost incredible. The gageregistered one hundred and thirty miles an hour!
Down below in the grand stands, and on the aviation field, there wereyells of approval--of wonder--of fear. But Tom and Mr. Damon could nothear them. They only heard the powerful song of the motor.
Faster and faster flew the Humming-Bird. Tom looked down, and saw thesignal put up which meant that there were but three miles more to go.He felt that he could do it. He was half a lap ahead of them all now.But he saw Andy Foger's machine pulling away from the bunch.
"He's going to try to catch me!" exulted Tom.
Then something happened. The motor of the Humming-Bird suddenlyslackened its speed, it missed explosions, and the trim little craftbegan to drop behind.
"What's the matter?" cried Mr. Damon.
"Three of the cylinders are out of business!" yelled Tom. "We're donefor, I guess."
On came the other machines, Andy in the lead, then the Santos-Dumont,then the Farman, and lastly the Wright. They saw the plight of theHumming-Bird and determined to beat her. Tom cast a despairing look upat the motor. There was nothing to be done. He could not reach it inmid-air. He could only keep on, crippled as he was, and trust to luck.
Andy passed by his rival with an evil smile on his ugly face. Then theAntoinette flashed by. In turn all the others left Tom in the rear. Hisheart was like lead. Mr. Damon gazed blankly forward. They were beaten.It did not seem possible.
There was but a single chance. If Tom shut off all power, coasted for amoment, and then, ere the propeller had ceased revolving, if he couldstart the motor on the spark, the silent cylinders might pick up, withthe other
s, and begin again. He would try it. They could be no worseoff than they were.
"A mile behind!" gasped Tom. "It's a long chance, but I'll take it."
He shut off the power. The motor was silent, the Humming-Bird began tofall. But ere she had gone down ten feet Tom suddenly switched on thebatteries. There was a moment of silence, and then came the welcomeroar that told of the rekindled motor. And such a roar as it was! Everycylinder was exploding as though none of them had ever stopped!
"We did it!" yelled Tom. Opening up at full speed, he sent the skyracer on the course to overtake and pass his rivals.
Slowly he crept on them. They looked back and saw him coming. Theytried to put on more speed, but it was impossible. Andy Foger was inthe lead. He was being slowly overhauled by the Santos-Dumont, withthe queer tail-rudders.
"I'll get him!" muttered Tom. "I'll pass 'em all!"
And he did. With a wonderful burst of speed the little Humming-Birdovertook one after another of her larger rivals, and passed them. Thenshe crept up on Andy's Slugger.
In an instant more it was done, and, a good length in advance of theFoger craft, Tom shot over the finish line a winner, richer by tenthousand dollars, and, not only that, but he had picked up a mile thathad been lost, and had snatched victory from almost certain defeat.
There was a succession of thundering cheers as he shut off the motor,and volplaned to earth, but he paid little attention to them. Hebrought his craft to a stop just as the wireless on it buzzed again.
He listened with a look of pain on his face.
"My father is dying," he said simply. "I must go to him. Mr. Damon,will you fill the tanks with oil and gasoline, while I send off amessage?"
"Oil and gasoline," murmured the odd man, while hundreds pressed up tocongratulate Tom Swift "What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to my father in the Humming-Bird," said Tom. "It's the onlyway I can see him alive," and he began to click off a message to Mr.Jackson, stating that he had won the race and was going to fly toShopton, while Mr. Damon and several others replenished the fuel andoil of the aeroplane.
Tom Swift had won one race. Could he win the other?