Raeburn and the other two officials looked impressed. A telephone call was hastily put through to the submarine base at Holy Loch. In a few minutes Captain Frost was on the line.
“Were those boys in a sub?” he echoed, then roared with laughter. “I’ll tell the world they weren’t! I can send you some movie footage our frogman took of them with an underwater camera.”
Raeburn’s face was stiff with embarrassment as he hung up. “That-er-certainly disposes of any charges of fakery,” he mumbled. “Please accept our apologies for this frightful mistake.”
Tom, however, was still concerned over the charge. “Captain Frost can’t confirm our whole trip,” he pointed out. “Unless we can verify all five days of the crossing, some people may go on believing we faked part of it.”
Suddenly a loud altercation was heard outside the door. Then a plump little man burst into the room. His shiny bald head was fringed with a wild tangle of hair. “It’s outrageous! Shocking! Dis-50 AQUATOMIC TRACKER
graceful!” he stormed. “What’s the meaning of this high-handed nonsense?”
“Dr. Frobisherl” Tom exclaimed joyfully.
Catching sight of the two boys, the plump man rushed toward them. “My dear Tom! And you too, Barclay! What can I say, what can I do to make amends for this intolerable insult!”
“Bud, this is Dr. Terence Frobisher, one of the world’s greatest oceanographers,” Tom said.
Dr. Frobisher whirled around to face the three perspiring, scarlet-faced officials. “Are you all such blithering idiots that you don’t know the name ‘Swift’