Tom Swift and His Diving Seacopter Read Free Page B

Atlantis!"

CHAPTER 3
THE PRESSURE TANK
    "ATLANTIS? Come on!" Bud responded as if suspecting a gag. "You’re beginning to sound like that Russian kook who thought she’d found a lost city under the Caribbean! Atlantis is just a myth."
    "More than one old ‘myth’ has turned out to be founded on fact," Tom observed. "Troy, for example."
    "Well—okay. But does any scientist or archeologist or anybody have a clue where it might be?"
    Tom nodded soberly at his friend. "A couple friends of mine, George Braun and Hamilton Teller, who are expert oceanographers, have a theory that there may be ancient cities buried under the Atlantic Ocean seabed off the coast of Portugal."
    "Buried cities!" Skepticism set aside, Bud’s voice throbbed with interest as he sensed the promise of a new adventure. "You mean underneath the ocean floor?"
    "That’s the general idea," Tom said. "Ham and George want to search in an area where satellites have shown a gravitational anomaly."
    "Uh- huh!" responded Bud. "What’s that, a place where gravity pulls sideways instead of down?"
    Tom chuckled. "It just means that precise measurements of the earth’s pull show a sharp local variation in the density of the crust. It’s a hint that some sort of unusual geologic activity has gone on there in the recent past."
    "Like a lost continent or two?"
    "Who knows? And some of the thermometric data—heat readings—could be a clue that large structures are hidden in the same place."
    "Under the ocean, even under the bottom," mused Bud. "And way out in the Atlantic."
    "That’s right," Tom confirmed. "Anyhow, Ham and George need some kind of versatile undersea craft in which to make their exploration, so I figured a seacopter might be the answer."
    "Good figuring, chum!" Bud exclaimed. "Count me in on that trip, will you?"
    Tom’s face lit in an affectionate grin. "You’re as good as aboard, Admiral. Matter of fact, I’m making a test cruise tomorrow in one of the seacopter sections. Care to join me?"
    "Absolutely! Where we cruising to, Bermuda? Some romantic, exotic spot?"
    The young inventor winked. "Pressure Tank 3. Exotic but—"
    "Not so romantic," concluded Bud with a wistful sigh.
    After Bud left, Tom called George Dilling, Swift Enterprises’ chief of public communications, to ask about the public’s response to the day’s announcement of space life.
    "Oh, everyone’s going crazy, as you might expect," Dilling replied. "But the journal reports and press backgrounders all went out without a hitch, and your Dad has been talking to the Washington crowd. Thank goodness we already have our contacts in the Department of Defense."
    "Not to mention ‘Collections’," remarked Tom. ‘Collections’ nicknamed a mysterious government security group that seemed able to monitor the activities of Swift Enterprises at will, and had apparently known of the Swifts’ space communications for months. "Incidentally, George, I want to personally apologize for having kept you in the dark about all this until yesterday."
    "No hard feelings, Chief," he responded. "You had your reasons. But I expect Rad to be ribbing me about it from now to doomsday!" Dilling was referring to Harlan Ames’ assistant Phil Radnor who, like Ames, had been apprised of the secret from the first.
    While Tom was on the phone Mr. Swift had reentered the office with a sheaf of photos of the inscribed shell of the meteor-missile. The young inventor turned to his father. "Let’s start working on those symbols."
    In order to write down as many of them as they could from memory, he and Mr. Swift worked far into the night. Meanwhile, plant engineers stood by in case any messages started coming through from the space people. But morning dawned without any communications being received.
    At ten o’clock Tom and Bud rendezvoused at the huge metal block that was Pressure Tank 3, one of several tanks used for aquatic testing. The top of the tank had been swung aside and, as Tom and Bud watched,