Chapter X. Off in the Airship

As Tom Swift hurried down the companionway he again felt the ship careen as the whale struck it a powerful blow, and he was almost knocked off his feet. But he kept on.

Below he found some frightened men and women, a number of whom were adjusting life preservers about them, under the impression that the ship had struck a rock and was going down. They had not been up on deck, and did not know of the battle between the killer and the whale, nor what followed.

"Oh, I know we're sinking!" cried one timid woman. "What has happened?" she appealed to Tom.

"It will be all right in a little while," he assured her.

"But what is it? I want to know. Have we had a collision."

"Yes, with a whale," replied Tom, as he grabbed up something from his stateroom, and again rushed up on deck. As he reached it the whale came on once more, and struck the ship another terrific blow. Then the monster sank and could be seen swimming back, just under the surface of the water, getting ready to renew the attack.

"He's going to ram us again!" cried Mr. Damon. "Bless my machine oil! Why doesn't the captain do something?"

At that moment the commander cried from the bridge:

"Send a man below, Mr. Laster, to see if we are making any water. Then tell half a dozen of the sailors to get out the rifles, and see if they can't kill the beast. He'll put us in Davy Jones's locker if he keeps this up! Lively now, men!"

The first mate, Mr. Laster, called out the order. A sailor went below to see if the ship was leaking much, and the captain rang for full speed ahead. But the Soudalar was slow in getting under way again, and, even at top speed she was no match for the whale, which was again rushing toward the vessel.

"Quick with those rifles!" cried the captain. "Fire a volley into the beast!"

"There's no need!" suddenly called Mr. Damon, who had caught sight of Tom Swift, and the object which the lad carried.

"No need?" demanded the commander. "Why, has the whale sunk, or made off?"

"No," answered the eccentric man, "the whale is still coming on, but Tom Swift will fix him. Get there, Tom, and let him have a good one!"

"What sort of a gun is that?" demanded the commander as the young inventor took his place at the rail, which was now almost deserted.

Tom did not answer. Bracing himself against the rolling and heaving of the vessel, which was now under about half speed, Tom aimed his electric rifle at the oncoming leviathan. He looked at the automatic gage, noted the distance and waiting a moment until the crest of a wave in front of the whale had subsided, he pressed the button.

If those watching him expected to hear a loud report, and see a flash of flame,