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Updated: June 16, 2025
Moreover, if the second sub was returning to the South Atlantic, it seemed likely that the enemy, too, had not yet located the precious missile with its data from Jupiter. "You guys rate Navy medals," Tom told Zimby and Mack jubilantly. "Come on back to Shopton with me and I'll buy you the juiciest steaks in town!"
"He'll probably duck out of the country pronto," Tom surmised. "Anyhow, this won't stop us, Harlan." By nightfall the little fleet of three undersea craft was speeding southward at periscope depth. Tom alternated at the controls with Zimby, two hours on and two hours off. Sleep came in snatches, the crewmen flopping on their bunks as the chance offered.
The flight was a short one at transonic speed. Tom chose a sparkling stretch of open water, a mile or so offshore from a palm-green islet. Zimby agreed to stay aboard and tend ship while Tom and Mel went over the side in hydrolungs. The two glided about in the translucent blue depths, keeping in close range of each other.
At the base, both Mel Flagler and Zimby Cox were eager to accompany the young inventor when he told them about the trip he had in mind. Tom chose the Sea Hound as the fastest and best suited craft for his purpose. With Mel's and Zimby's help, he quickly rigged a plastic "tank" in the stern cabin. Minutes later, the seacopter zoomed skyward, heading for the Florida Keys.
Instead of burying the missile deeper, the grenade explosion had uncovered the entire nose cone and part of the section behind it! "Sizzlin' squids! What a break!" Bud whooped. The boys jetted back to the Sea Hound to announce the good news. Zimby and two other crewmen were dispatched in hydrolungs to inform the other ships. Tom requested them to remain submerged and guard the site.
Raising his mask, Tom called, "Let's have the net!" Zimby lowered a nylon net and some pieces of fish to the two swimmers as they came alongside. With the food as bait they tried to lure the porpoise to the seacopter. But just as they thought they had it, the monster would scoot off. "It's just laughing at us!" Mel fumed.
Then the yellow glare went off, and Bud's jetmarine glided away to take up a scouting position ahead of the Sea Hound. An hour went by, then another. Suddenly a flash of light stabbed through the murk from dead ahead. "It's a signal from Bud!" Zimby exclaimed. Tom nodded grimly. "He's spotted trouble probably an enemy sub."
"Big enough, all right," Tom agreed with a grin. "And plenty of water to search in." "No sign of the Navy," Zimby said. Tom nodded. "They pulled out on schedule." "What about them Brungarian sidewinders?" put in Chow. "That's the question!" Tom swooped down to rejoin the other two craft. "We'll keep an eye out for enemy blips while we do our prospecting."
In less than two hours they were ready to submerge again. Zimby Cox joined the crew. Bud suggested taking along hydrolungs in case of any need for tinkering with the transducers or amplifying equipment. This time, the jetmarine scored perfectly on the test, successfully eluding all the Sea Hound's efforts to detect it.
"Good night!" Zimby cried out. After resting, Tom and Mel dived in again. This time luck was with them. In less than twenty minutes they sighted a small porpoise. "Think we can lure it back toward the Sea Hound?" Mel queried. "We'll try," Tom replied. The creature with the bottle-shaped snout was as friendly and playful as most of its fellow dolphins.
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