typhoon in itself has a sinister sound, and when, coupled with that, was the knowledge of what such a storm was capable of doing, it is no wonder that there were anxious hearts aboard the air monarch.

“what’s the matter?” asked ned of his chum, as he realized that tom was not going to be able to do as he hoped and send the craft up into a calm area above the outburst.

“i don’t quite know,” was the answer. “it’s just as if we were being pulled or pushed down.”

“if we land in that sea—well——” ned did not finish, but tom knew what his chum meant. if it was bad in the air it was worse on the water.

a typhoon is a hurricane of the worst sort, this particular name for violent wind and sea disturbances being common to china and japan where these storms rage from may to november, being at their worst in the summer months. tom and his party had arrived just at the very height of the stormy season, and were now in the grip of a typhoon of the most dangerous character.

“our only chance is to fight it!” cried tom, while he aided peltok in handling the wheel. “once we are forced down, we’ll be swamped.”

the craft was built to navigate on water, it is true, but not amid big waves and swells kicked up by a hurricane. yet it might chance that tom would have to battle with the elements of water as well as those of the air.

for a time it seemed that the typhoon would conquer and force the machine down. at first tom thought something had gone wrong with the machinery, so reluctant was his ship to respond to the controls. but when he looked at the wind gage near the front window and noted that its hand was hovering around the 150 mark on the dial, he understood what was taking place.

the wind was approaching a rate of two hundred miles an hour, and as the air monarch was not making that speed she was being blown back, and her propellers were not even holding her stationary in the gale. not only was she being forced back, but she was being forced downward.

“we’ve got to have more power!” cried tom. “turn on the super-gas!”

“there isn’t much left,” said hartman. “you were to save that for the last lap!”

“there won’t be any last lap if we don’t get above this typhoon!” shouted tom. “turn it on!”

“on she goes!” echoed the mechanic.

with hartman at the super-charger, while tom and peltok managed the wheel, ned and brinkley looked to the oiling systems. if they failed now, when it was necessary to run the motors at their top speed, it would be disastrous.

though the wind howled about them and heavy rain now dashed against the thick plate glass of the windows, and though the typhoon was increasing in power, it was soon evident that the machine was doing better. with the increase in speed and power of the motors, because of tom’s newly invented gas, the air monarch began to recover lost ground, and soon she began progressing straight into the teeth of the hurricane. to have turned and sailed before it would have meant that she would be turned over and over, her wings shorn off and that she would be dropped into the raging sea, a helpless wreck.

“we’ll make it! we’ll make it!” exulted tom, as he saw the speed indicator hand slowly move along until it was passing the two hundred mark. he knew his ship was capable of over two hundred and fifty miles an hour, or more than four miles a minute, though how long she could keep up this speed was a problem. and the young inventor knew he could not hope to reach that goal with a typhoon blowing against him at more than half that speed.

so tom was satisfied when he saw his craft making a little more than the two hundred mile rate, and he had hopes of coming out of the contest not only with a whole skin himself but with his plane intact.

howling and yelling, the wind threatened to tear the machine apart. but the air monarch was stanchly made, and she forged ahead. now and then some more violent outburst than usual caused the craft to dip down toward the raging sea, but tom and peltok forced her up again, and she rode above the waves, though sometimes perilously close to their crests.

there is one thing about typhoons that is in their favor, if such a thing can be said. this is that they do not last long. from the very nature of these storms, they cannot last long.

so, after about half an hour, there was a diminishing of the force of the hurricane, as tom could note on the gage, and he was able to send his craft up higher, soon being in a region of comparative calm.

“oh, boy! that was some blow!” tom confided to ned, when he could let peltok manage the wheel alone and the young inventor went to get some rest in the main cabin with his chum.

“i’ll say it was!” ned echoed. “do they have many of these out here?”

“more or less. we’re well out of that one.”

the typhoon was passing almost as quickly as it had arisen, and when it was possible to slow down the motors, to save as much as possible of the now precious super-gas, tom gave orders to that effect.

they were now over a portion of the ocean that had not, as yet, responded to the whipping and lashing of the terrific wind, and peltok, who had given hartman charge of the wheel, came in to say:

“i think we had better drop down to the water and give the airship an overhauling. no telling what might have been strained by that gale.”

“i agree with you,” tom said. “we’ll make a landing, or rather,” he added, with a smile, “a watering. there is a large island near here, i think,” he went on, consulting the map, “and we can be sheltered in the harbor if we have to make any repairs.”

the typhoon had passed. the rain was over. the setting sun came out clear and bright from behind the black clouds as the air monarch gently settled down in the sea near a large island, with smaller islands clustered about it.

“pleasant place, this,” remarked ned.

“it looks so,” agreed tom. “i hope we find nothing wrong and can soon be on our way again. we have lost a lot of time.”

“and we’re likely to lose something else, too!” suddenly exclaimed hartman, as the craft came to a stop at the entrance to a natural harbor on one side of the large island.

“what’s the matter?” asked tom, who was shutting off the motors.

“look!” exclaimed the mechanic, and as he pointed ahead tom and his friends saw, swarming toward them, a number of long, low boats, filled with savage warriors who set up a hideous howling.

“malay pirates!” cried tom, recognizing the natives. “we’ll have a hornet’s nest about our ears in a minute! malay pirates!”

on came the savages chanting a war song to keep time with the flashing paddles as they urged their boats toward the floating aeroplane.