Free Into the Abyss (Tom Swift, Young Inventor) by Victor Appleton

said.
    He stared at me, and then smiled and nodded. “All right, then. Good luck, Tom.”
    “Thanks.” We shook hands, and then he closed the hatch.
    Soon I could hear the sound of the winch swinging around. The big hook was attached to the top of my craft, and I was hoisted into the air.
    As the
Verne-O
swung free of the
Nestor
and was lowered past the deck, I saw my mom, Sandy, Yo, and Bud all waving to me with worried looks on their faces.
    I gave them a thumbs-up, and then, the
Jules Verne-
hit the water.
    “Here we go,” I said, with a sinking feeling.

8
 
  Into the Deep
    I had always dreamed of going on a dive in one of the Swift Enterprises submersibles. But I never thought it would be like this.
    Somewhere down there was my dad, using up his last hours of oxygen along with the rest of his crew. And here I was, only now breaking the surface in my last-ditch attempt to save them.
    On my wrist, inside my watch, was Q.U.I.P—hopefully, fully recovered from his salt-water bath. Through the
Verne-o
’s communications system, I would be in contact with the
Nestor
at all times.
    Still, I felt as alone as I’d ever felt in my life.
    I tried not to think about my dad. It would be more than an hour before I made it all the way to the sea bottom. Even when I got there, my craft would be tethered to that steel cable, so its movements would be limited—making it harder to search for the Jules Verne-1.

    Before it lost contact with the
Nestor
, the
Verne-1
had already placed one of its seismic sensors. It had been on the move, hunting for a spot to place the second one, when the earthquake struck.
    The submersible could have traveled far from its original launch spot. How would I find the
Verne-1
if it wasn’t in sight when I reached the bottom?
    I would have to communicate my intended movements to the crew back on the
Nestor
, so it could maneuver the ship along with me, making sure the cable had enough play and didn’t snap. If it did, there’d be no way to tow the
Verne-1
back up to the surface.
    I remembered Captain Walters’s last words to me: If the storm hit, as predicted, they might not be able to maneuver with me. They might even have to cut the cable. That scenario spelled doom for my dad and his crew.
    My dad’s last audible word had been “avalanche.”At least it sounded like that. Was the
Jules Verne-1
buried under rock and mud? Was the crew even alive?
    I couldn’t think about it any longer. I stared out the prototype’s porthole at the incredible creatures of the sea, trying to make the time pass more quickly.
    A manta ray was the first thing I spotted. I thought about how, with its twin fins breaking the surface, it would look like a pair of sharks, swimming together to someone surfing or swimming. Totally terrifying. But manta rays are pretty gentle creatures, as long as you don’t irritate them or step on them.
    A school of striped bonito whisked by again and again. I thought it was an endless stream of fish, until I realized they were circling past my porthole over and over again.
    They were chased off by a seven-foot-long white-tipped shark. And then about a dozen bluefin tuna cruised past—probably also hunting the bonito. In the sea, as on land, life eats life in order to live.
    Tom? Do you read me?”
    It was Bud’s voice, emanating from the speaker built into the prototypes control console. Equalizer lights blipped up and down, registering the timbreand pitch of his voice. The system was built to make adjustments to the human voice, to compensate for the distortion of deep-ocean pressure.
    “I’m here,” I said. “Man, you’re missing some show.”
    “What do you see?” Yo talking now.
    Just then, a sperm whale swam slowly by, accompanied by her calf.
    “If I told you, you’d just be jealous.”
    “I already am, dude,” Bud said.
    “Come on,” Yo added. “Share.”
    “Okay,” I said.
    And I did. It kept all of our minds off the danger of this mission—but soon, as the