Tom Swift and the Electronic Hydrolung

Victor Appleton
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Tom Swift and the Electronic Hydrolung, by

Victor Appleton This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: Tom Swift and the Electronic Hydrolung
Author: Victor Appleton
Illustrator: Charles Brey
Release Date: September 12, 2006 [EBook #19258]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
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Produced by Greg Weeks, Graeme Mackreth and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

[Illustration]

TOM SWIFT AND THE ELECTRONIC HYDROLUNG
[Illustration: The grenade went streaking straight toward Tom!]
THE NEW TOM SWIFT JR. ADVENTURES
TOM SWIFT AND THE ELECTRONIC HYDROLUNG
BY VICTOR APPLETON II
ILLUSTRATED BY CHARLES BREY
NEW YORK GROSSET & DUNLAP PUBLISHERS

Copyright BY GROSSET & DUNLAP, INC., 1961
[Transcriber's note: Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the copyright on this publication was renewed.]
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
1 PIRATE MISSILE 11 2 UNDERSEA SURVEY 20 3 INVISIBLE SUB 31 4 AERIAL ATTACK 39 5 A HUNCH PAYS OFF 50 6 THE CAISSON CLUE 56 7 PORPOISE TAG 64 8 DATE TROUBLE 72 9 A MAGNETIC KIDNAPING 81 10 TELEPHONE CODE 90 11 SQUARE-DANCE HOAX 100 12 DETECTION TEST 109 13 ENEMY FROGMEN 119 14 A PROPAGANDA BLITZ 130 15 MOUNTAIN HIKE 140 16 THE GUNMAN'S SURPRISE 148 17 A MISSING AMULET 156 18 SMILEY THE SEA COW 166 19 FLASH FROM THE DEPTHS 176 20 A LUCKY BLAST 183
CHAPTER I
PIRATE MISSILE
Tense, excited men gazed spaceward from the ships and planes of the South Atlantic task force. Other watchers waited breathlessly in the control room of the ship Recoverer. Among these was Tom Swift Jr.
"How close to earth is our Jupiter probe missile?" Bud Barclay asked Tom excitedly.
The lanky blond youth beside him, in T shirt and slacks, shot a glance at the dials of the tracking equipment. "Eight thousand miles from this spot, Bud. It should land here in fifteen minutes!"
Tom Jr., his father, Bud, and a host of scientists, Navy officers, and newsmen were crowded aboard a U.S. Navy missile launching ship.
"Just think!" Bud exulted. "You'll have data from the planet Jupiter that no one on earth has yet been able to get!"
"If we recover the missile safely," Mr. Swift spoke up hopefully. The elder scientist's voice was quiet but taut with the strain of waiting. The two Swifts resembled each other closely--each had deep-set blue eyes and clean-cut features--although Tom was somewhat taller and rangier.
"You're right, Dad," Tom agreed. "If we don't snare the missile, our whole project will be a total loss to America's space program!"
At Tom's words, the watchers and crewmen who were crowded into the Recoverer's control room stirred restlessly. Its bulkheads were banked with radar and telemetering devices. Tension had been mounting throughout the morning aboard the ships and observation planes of the task force as everyone awaited the return of the planet-circling missile--scientists' deepest penetration into space so far.
"What do you mean, a total loss?" Bud argued. "Even if the recovery operation's a flop, the shot will still pay off in valuable information, won't it?"
Tom shook his head grimly. "The purpose of this unmanned, exploratory flight around Jupiter was to take and record all kinds of data. But none of the info is being radioed back to us."
"How come?"
"If we had put in radio gear strong enough to relay signals back, it would have cut down the amount of information-gathering equipment aboard," Tom explained. "We had to make every ounce count."
Outwardly calm, Tom was seething with inner excitement. Although only eighteen--the same age as his husky, dark-haired pal and copilot, Bud Barclay--Tom had been given the job of directing the recovery phase of the United States government's Project Jupiter survey. The Swifts and their rocket research staff had built the missile and engineered the space probe for the government.
"Whew!" Bud gave a nervous whistle. "I see what you mean, pal. With all our eggs in one basket, we sure can't afford to get butter-fingered with the Jupiter prober."
Admiral Walter, a tall, distinguished man, graying at the temples, smiled. "It's what we call in warfare a calculated risk, Bud," he said. "But with Tom in charge, I believe we have nothing to worry about."
Mr. Swift's eyes shone with fatherly pride at the admiral's remark. Tom Jr.'s pioneering rocket flights and inventions had won the youth a top rank in American space research.
"Guess you're right, sir," Bud agreed. "I'll back genius boy here any day!"
Tom winced as Bud whacked him heartily on the shoulder. "Better save your orchids and keep your fingers crossed, fly boy," the young inventor advised. "That rocket's not home yet."
Radio telescopes, both on land and aboard the ships of the task force, were following the missile's progress as
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