"This is travelin' in style, all right," approvingly remarked Captain Britten, looking about the comfortably appointed cabin and sniffing the appetizing odor of lamb chops on the electric grill. When necessary, Ned Newton could cook an impromptu meal. He really was rather proud of his ability.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Ned Cooked Some Lamb Chops]

As the amateur chef placed the meal on a small, collapsible table, Tom announced that they were now flying over the state of Georgia. "We should reach Key West about three P.M.," he said.

The ship droned steadily onward. At two o'clock in the afternoon they were pa.s.sing near a large city. "Miami," declared Ned, who had been poring over a chart. "Airplanes go to many parts of South America from there."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Miami," Declared Ned]

Tom sent the "Winged Arrow" lower and lower. Finally he leveled off at an alt.i.tude of about five hundred feet above the blue sea. Here the full force of the fierce subtropical sun began to make itself felt.

The travelers, fresh from the comparatively cool northern summer, made haste to open all the air vents in the plane. Then they changed into white linen suits.

[Ill.u.s.tration: They Changed into Linen Suits]

"Whew!" exclaimed Tom, mopping his brow. "I've traveled in the jungles of Africa but have never felt hotter!"

"Ah, it's the ship, my boy. You see, the dark metal hull fairly soaks up the sun, an' that's why we're a bit uncomfortable," said Captain Britten. "Once we land, you'll think the climate fine!"

Shortly afterward they flew over a grim-looking American battleship. It greeted them with a hoa.r.s.e blast of her whistle as the flying boat shot by at the rate of two hundred miles an hour. On either side tiny islands, or cays, appeared, then vanished as if by magic. Finally a blue blur straight ahead began to loom even larger, and in a few minutes the "Winged Arrow" landed in the harbor of Key West.

[Ill.u.s.tration: They Flew Over a Battleship]

"Half-past three," said Tom, glancing at the clock on the instrument panel. "A slow pa.s.sage."

"Fast as I'd want to make it," declared Captain Britten. "A steamer'd have taken a good many hours where we needed only minutes. There's the old 'Betsy B.' tied to her pier, so let's get over to her!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: In the Harbor at Key West]

The idling engines were speeded up and the flying boat moved slowly across the harbor. A tug with smoke curling from her single thick funnel lay near the broad-beamed barge.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A Tug Lay Near the Barge]

Over the stern of the latter several grinning Negroes leaned. Their ancestors might have been stricken dumb at sight of the great sky craft tying up to their ship, but these darkies were familiar with daily pa.s.sage of planes bound for South America and showed but little astonishment. In a liquid Spanish-English patois they bade the whites welcome. All of them were old retainers of Captain Britten.

As the elderly man had said, the old barge had served as winter quarters for him during the past years. In consequence, he had had her little cabins fitted up more luxuriously than is customary on such vessels.

Tom and Ned were given one far more comfortable than they had expected.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Cabins Were Comfortable]

The rest of the afternoon was taken up with inspection of the ship, the arrangements for the safe-keeping of the "Winged Arrow," and the laying of plans. Immediately after the hydroplane had been moored to a small pier owned by Captain Britten, the tug-boat chugged out into the Gulf of Mexico at the rate of ten knots.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Tug Chugged out into the Gulf]

"I'd say we should reach the spot some time tomorrow afternoon," said Tom after studying the chart. "It's just under two hundred miles."

"And we'll get your meteorite for you!" predicted the old salvage man confidently. "Lucky the captain of that freighter 'Perry' took a bearing on the lighthouse at Port Baracoa; otherwise it would be like lookin'

for a boll weevil in a bale o' cotton!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: Tom Studied the Charts]

Ruiz, the coal-black cook, served a good supper at sundown. Shortly afterward the boys went to their bunks, for both were tired after the long flight. Then too, Tom was still feeling the effects of the gas inhaled the previous night.

Next morning found the "Betsy B." wallowing through a smooth sea a few miles off the east coast of Cuba. Under the supervision of Captain Britten, several of the crew were busy oiling the huge winch, overhauling steel cables, and seeing to a dozen other minor but important details. Altogether, it was a busy scene that met the eyes of Tom and Ned when they emerged on deck.

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Crew Was Busy]

"Your father was right, I think," said Ned. "You certainly have a competent man. See how the crew jump at his word!"

"I agree," said Tom with satisfaction. "But me for breakfast! This sea air surely gives a fellow a good appet.i.te."

A head wind coupled with a rising sea combined to hold back the tug and her rather clumsy tow as the day waned. Occasional heavy rain squalls made the deck of the barge a rather uncomfortable place, so the boys stayed in the main cabin and discussed plans.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Head Winds Held Back the Tug]

"I think the rainy season must be at its height," groaned Ned at last as he and Tom sat sweltering. "Maybe we'll be cooped up here for the whole voyage."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Rain Kept the Boys in Their Cabins]

"Not me," declared the young inventor with a laugh. "Since when have you grown afraid of a little rain? By afternoon we ought to be near the spot where Captain Mawson jettisoned the meteorite and then we'll begin to get busy, weather or no weather!"

"I hope the thing will be worth all our trouble," said Ned a bit crossly. "Perhaps we won't even be able to find it. What then?"

"You're just suffering from a touch of 'mal de mer'!" teased Tom, refusing to consider his chum's gloomy remarks.

"I'm not a bit seasick!" protested Ned indignantly. "I just think we're on a wild goose chase, that's all!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "I'm Not Seasick," Protested Ned]

"Wait and see."

Evening drew nigh, and the sudden tropical night fell. On the Cuban coast lights went on, dominated by the intermittent glare of a powerful beacon many miles ahead.

"Baracoa Light," announced Captain Britten, seeing this. "We will lay off-sh.o.r.e till morning and begin our work tomorrow."

[Ill.u.s.tration: The Captain Pointed to the Beacon]

It spoke well for Tom Swift's nerves that he slept soundly, despite his great interest in the morrow's activities. During the night the sea abated and the rain ceased. Dawn broke with a brilliance to be seen only in tropical lands.

In order to reach the spot in the sea beneath which the meteorite lay, it was necessary to get the barge into a position corresponding to the apex of an isosceles triangle in relation to the lighthouse tower and the peak of a small hill near by.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Tom Made Some Observations]

Captain Britten and Tom, s.e.xtants in hand, made repeated observations.

Ned stood by the telephone connecting the tug and her tow, transmitting to the former's captain the navigation directions. Finally the barge was supposed to be exactly where the freighter had thrown overboard the big stone.

"We may have to look around a little, though," remarked Tom as Captain Britten ordered the tug halted and anchors lowered. "In the big storm Captain Mawson might have made a mistake in his reckoning."