t 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, they were disappointed. There was absolutely no
sound, but what happened to the whale was most surprising.

The great animal stopped short amid a swirl of foam, and the next
instant it seemed to disintegrate. It went all to pieces, just as
had the dummy figure which Tom on one occasion fired at with his
rifle and as had the big packing-cases. The whale appeared to
dissolve, as does a lump of sugar in a cup of hot tea, and, five
seconds after Tom Swift had fired his electric gun, there was not a
sign of the monster save a little blood on the calm sea.

"What--what