Tom Swift and The Visitor from Planet X Part 9

She broke off with a gasp.

"What's wrong?" Tom asked.

Breathless with fright, Phyl pointed off to starboard. The others paled.

An enormous wave was sweeping across the lake, straight toward the ketch!

"Jumpin' jets!" Bud gulped. "It's like a tidal wave!"

The boat was already rocking under the swells that preceded the oncoming huge breaker.

"Quick!" Tom yelled. "Grab life jackets while I start the engine!"

The four leaped into action. Every instant the terrifying wave rushed closer! By now it was a twelve-foot wall of water!

Tom and the others had just put on the jackets and the engine had barely gunned into life when disaster struck. The mammoth wave swept up the _Sunspot_ and heeled it far over into the trough like a toy bark. The next instant a cataract of water poured over the deck with stunning force!

"We're going under!" Phyl screamed.

All four were swept overboard in the maelstrom! Under the smashing impact of the water, the ketch's mainmast bent and groaned. A moment later came a crack like a gunshot. The mast broke off, hung teetering by shreds, then toppled into the water. As it fell, the mast struck Sandy a grazing blow on the head!

"Sandy!" Bud cried fearfully as he struggled in the swirling torrent.

Calling on every ounce of strength, he swam with powerful strokes toward the girl. Sandy was dazed and limp. Bud's husky arm circled her tightly.

Then he began to fight his way toward sh.o.r.e. Tom and Phyl--each struggling in the turbulent water--could only breathe a prayer of thanks as they watched the rescue.

[Ill.u.s.tration (a huge wave capsizes the Sunspot)]

As the huge wave raced sh.o.r.eward, the lake water gradually became calmer in its wake. Tom was able to a.s.sist Phyl, and Sandy by now had recovered her faculties.

The _Sunspot_ had capsized but could still be seen afloat, some distance away. Rather than swim to it and cling to the hulk in the hope that a rescue boat would arrive, the four decided to continue on toward sh.o.r.e.

They knew that the aftermath of the tidal wave would keep all sh.o.r.e facilities in an uproar for hours to come.

As they neared the beach, the young people could see other overturned craft and heads bobbing in the water. A few daring persons finally began putting out in motorboats and rowboats to pick up the survivors.

A hundred yards from sh.o.r.e, one of the boats took Tom's group aboard.

Minutes later, they were scrambling out onto a dock.

"Are you all right, Sandy?" Bud asked, his arm still around her.

"I--I think so," she gasped weakly, "but I must have swallowed half the lake!"

"Take it easy, Sis!" Tom added, as Sandy swayed and shuddered from the shock of her recent ordeal.

Gently he made Sandy lie down and pillowed her head on a folded tarpaulin provided by the sympathetic boatman. Phyl, though wan and white-faced, was in somewhat better shape.

"Tom, we must get these girls home as soon as possible," Bud declared.

This, however, was not easily accomplished. The tidal wave had caused devastation along the entire sh.o.r.e front. Many docks had been wrecked, boats splintered like matchsticks, and buildings along the water smashed.

When Tom's group reached Bud's convertible, parked near the yacht club pier, they found the car completely waterlogged. Its electrical system gave not even a faint sputter or spark.

"Oh, fine!" Bud groaned. "The crowning touch!"

Eventually ambulances and private cars began to arrive to transport the injured. Tom, Bud, and the two girls were given a lift to the Swift home where Sandy and Phyl were immediately put to bed by a worried Mrs.

Swift.

Downstairs, Tom switched on the TV set. A mobile camera crew from the local station was scanning the water front and interviewing witnesses of the disaster. To the two boys, the most interesting note came in a statement by the announcer that a very slight earth tremor had been felt in Shopton.

"But no damage occurred except along the water front," the announcer explained.

Tom gave a snort of anger, jumped up from his chair, and began pacing about the living room. "Bud, I feel sure that wall of water was caused by a minor earthquake!" the young inventor declared. "What's more, I'll bet it was _man-made!_"

Bud stared at his friend, appalled but feeling a hot surge of anger himself. "If you're right, pal, it's the most fiendish sabotage I've ever heard of! Think of all the lives that were endangered!"

Tom nodded grimly. "I _am_ thinking!"

Both boys jerked around to look at the TV set again as a studio announcer's voice suddenly broke into the telecast:

"Flash! A severe quake has occurred at the headquarters of the American Archives Foundation, a hundred miles from Shopton. The Foundation's buildings, containing many priceless government and scientific doc.u.ments, were badly damaged, and an underground microfilm vault was utterly destroyed. Apparently this quake was part of the tremor felt here at Shopton."

Within minutes the Swifts' home phone began jangling constantly. Some calls were from friends, others from strangers. Many of the calls were routed through from the Enterprises switchboard.

One was from Dan Perkins of the _Shopton Bulletin_. "What about it, Tom?" the editor demanded. "I guess you know by now the public's aroused and in a state of near panic over all these quakes. What they all want to know is this: are you, Tom Swift, going to find a way to stop all this destruction?"

Tom's jaw jutted out angrily. "Yes, I am!" he snapped. "And you can quote me on that!"

CHAPTER VIII

A SUSPECT TALKS

The next morning Tom was up at the crack of dawn, grimly determined to find an answer to the earthquake menace. He ate a hasty breakfast, then drove to his private laboratory at Enterprises. He instructed the switchboard operator to shut off all incoming calls, then plunged into a study of the mystifying problem.

Earthquake activity, Tom knew, tends to occur in circular patterns, like bands around the earth--for instance, the circ.u.m-Pacific belt, and another belt extending eastward from the Mediterranean through Asia and on into the East Indies. Often these quake lines are visible as breaks or ruptures along the ground surface, called _fault traces_. No doubt, Tom thought, there were many more uncharted ones.

Could an enemy scientist be making use of these earth faults to produce a man-made quake? Tom mulled over the disturbing idea.

"How would I tackle the job myself, if I had to undertake such a project for national defense?" the young inventor mused. He felt a growing sense of excitement as an idea began to take shape in his mind.

_What about an artificial shock wave!_

An hour later Bud Barclay walked into the laboratory and found Tom hunched over a jumbled pile of reference books on his workbench.

"What cooks, skipper?" Bud asked.