Tom Swift and His Deep Sea Hydrodome Read Online Free PDF

clearance."
    "And besides," noted Clisby, "the containers were marked in code. Damon, I’m sure you know that our department takes as much care in these matters as your own people do."
    Tom and his father, utterly dismayed and thoroughly baffled, exchanged frowning glances. Tom broke the leaden silence. "Gentlemen, would you be willing to accompany us back to the site in the seacopter? Using our deep-water suits, you could take fresh samples yourselves, and test them on the spot with your own equipment."
    Both visitors smiled. "Actually, that’s precisely what we were hoping for," Dr. Clisby admitted. "We want to give your company every chance to disprove these allegations."
    "Much as I would like to accompany you, my doctor has other ideas," Mr. Swift declared. "But my son and his pilot, Bud Barclay here, can handle this without me."
    Tom said, "Let’s not wait. It’s only mid-afternoon, and we can have supper on Fearing Island—that’s where the Sea Hound is docked." The plan was agreed to with enthusiasm all the way around, and before the next hour struck Tom and Bud were spearing southward in the Flying Lab with their guests.
    "I’m afraid I came off rather poorly," remarked Dr. Clisby to Tom and Bud in the control compartment. "There’s no pleasant way to convey to a friend what amounts to an accusation."
    "No hard feelings, sir," Tom replied.
    "I’ll save my hard feelings for whoever’s behind this snafu," muttered Bud.
    "Well, at least we’ve found an excuse to ride in this wonderful airship of yours, Tom," Bob Anchor said. "I’ve dreamed of it ever since your Montaguaya trip made the front pages!"
    After a smooth vertical landing at thumb-shaped Fearing Island, the four had a light supper and took off immediately for the mid-Atlantic in the Sea Hound . Bob Anchor, who had served a post-college hitch in the Air Force, was wide-eyed and impressed. "Tom, if your helium strike pans out half as well as this baby, it’ll be a rip-snorter!" he exclaimed.
    "Wait’ll you see this hound dive!" Bud told him with a chuckle.
    It was coming on nine PM local time when the seacopter settled down onto the dark blue waves near the buoy with its tossing pennant. Tom reversed the blade pitch and the remarkable craft dove beneath the scalloped carpet of the surface and down into the black depths. Using the aqualamp they followed the cable down to the bottom.
    Dr. Clisby marveled at the strange, phosphorescent fishes that darted past the cabin window. "Fantastic scene!" he exclaimed in a voice muffled by awe.
    As Bud held the Sea Hound steady, Bob Anchor pointed. "There it is, just as it was on the video from the drone." A line of big bubbles issued steadily from the muck at the mountain’s broad base.
    Tom did not respond for a moment. When he did, his voice was perplexed—and grim. "Bob—Dr. Clisby—something’s very wrong here. This is not the spot where I planted the buoy cable the other day!"
    "I knew it!" yelped Bud.
    "Not the spot?" Dr. Clisby was amazed! "How can that be, Tom? The signal from the buoy—"
    "The signal’s right, but the location’s wrong," Tom responded. "The anchoring spike has been moved somehow. There was a drop-off next to the real site. It was still there after the seaquake, when we went down to find my father. There’s nothing like that here."
    "Maybe we can find the bubbles from the real site," Bud urged. He guided the seacopter along the base of the undersea mountain, slowly and expertly. But as meter after meter of gray-brown sea floor fell away, Tom’s heart sank toward his stomach. There was no sign of the helium well!
    Suddenly, as the Sea Hound rounded an outcropping, Tom gripped his pal’s shoulder. "Bud—stop! That ledge ahead—I’m sure that’s the right spot!"
    As Bud played the aqualamp beam over the side of the mountain and the ocean floor, Bob Anchor cried out, "There’s the helium spot! I can see the bubbles!"
    Relieved cheers filled the small cabin as the four gazed