“Ah—er, if Mr. Hosbrook has no money, perhaps I can offer an equivalent,” broke in the man who had been introduced as Barcoe Jenks. “I have—er—some securities—” He stopped and looked about indefinitely, as though he did not know exactly what to say, and he was fumbling at a belt about his waist; a belt that might contain treasure.
“Don’t speak of reimbursing us,” went on Mr. Fenwick, with rather a suspicious glance at Mr. Jenks. “You are welcome to whatever we have.”
“Bless my topknot; certainly, yes!” joined in Mr. Damon, eagerly.
“Well, I—er—I only spoke of it,” said Mr. Jenks, hesitatingly, and then he turned away. Mr. Hosbrook looked sharply at him, but said nothing.
“Suppose we go to our camp,” proposed Tom. “We may be able to get you up a good meal, before another earthquake comes.”
“I wonder what makes so many of them?” asked Mrs. Nestor, with a nervous shiver.
“Yes, indeed, they are terrifying! One never knows when to expect them,” added Mrs. Anderson.
“I have a theory about them,” said Mr. Parker, the scientist, who, up to this time had spoken but little.
“A theory?” inquired Tom.
“Yes. This island is one of the smaller of the West Indies group. It is little known, and has seldom been visited, I believe. But I am sure that what causes the earthquakes is that the whole island has been undermined by the sea, and it is the wash of great submarine waves and currents which cause the tremors.”
“Undermined by the sea?” repeated Tom.
“Yes. It is being slowly washed away.”
“Bless my soul! Washed away!” gasped Mr. Damon.
“And, in the course of a comparatively short time, it will sink,” went on the scientist, as cheerfully as though he was a professor propounding some problem to his class.
“Sink!” ejaculated Mrs. Nestor. “The whole island undermined! Oh, what an alarming theory!”
“I wish I could hold to a different one, madam,” was Mr. Parker’s answer, “but I cannot. I think the island will sink after a few more shocks.”
“Then what good will my—” began Barcoe Jenks, but he stopped in confusion, and again his hand went to his belt with a queer gesture.
CHAPTER XVII
A Mighty Shock
Tom Swift turned to gaze at Mr. Barcoe Jenks. That individual certainly had a strange manner. Perhaps it might be caused by the terror of the earthquakes, but the man seemed to be trying to hold back some secret. He was constrained and ill at ease. He saw the young inventor looking at him, and his hands, which had gone to his belt, with a spasmodic motion, dropped to his side.
“You don’t really mean to say, Parker, that you think the whole island is undermined, do you?” asked the owner of the Resolute.
“That’s my theory. It may be a wrong one, but it is borne out by the facts already presented to us. I greatly fear for our lives!”
“But what can we do?” cried Mrs. Nestor.
“Nothing,” answered the scientist, with a shrug of his shoulders. “Absolutely nothing, save to wait for it to happen.”
“Don’t say that!” begged Mrs. Andersen.
“Can’t you gentlemen do something—build a boat and take us away. Why, the boat we came here in—”
“Struck a rock, and stove a hole in the bottom as big as a barrel, madam,” interrupted Captain Mentor. “It would never do to put to sea in that.”
“But can’t something else be done?” demanded Mrs. Nestor. “Oh, it is awful to think of perishing on this terrible earthquake island. Oh, Amos! Think of it, and Mary home alone! Have you seen her lately, Mr. Swift?”
Tom told of his visit to the Nestors’ home. Our hero was almost in despair, not so much for himself, as for the unfortunate women of the party—and one of them was Mary’s mother! Yet what could he do? What chance was there of escaping from the earthquake?
“Bless my gizzard!” exclaimed Mr. Damon. “Don’t let’s stand here worrying! If you folks are hungry come up to our camp. We have plenty. Afterward we can discuss means of saving ourselves.”
“I want to be saved!” exclaimed Mr. Jenks. “I must be saved! I have a great secret—a secret—”
Once more he paused in confusion, and once more his hands nervously sought his belt.
“I would give a big reward to be saved,” he murmured.
“And so, I fancy, we all would,” added Captain Mentor. “But we are not likely to. This island is out of the track of the regular line of vessels.”
“Where are we, anyhow?” inquired Mr. Fenwick. “What island is this?”
“It isn’t down on the charts, I believe,” was the captain’s reply, “but we won’t be far out, if we call it Earthquake Island. That name seems to fit it exactly.”
They had walked on, while talking, and now had gone past the broken cliff. Tom and his two friends of the airship led the way to the camp they had made. On the way, Mr. Hosbrook related how his yacht had struggled in vain against the tempest, how she had sprung a leak, how the fires had gone out, and how, helpless in the trough of the sea, the gallant vessel began to founder. Then they had taken to the boats, and had, most unexpectedly come upon the island.
“And since we landed we have had very little to eat,” said Mrs. Nestor. “We haven’t had a place to sleep, and it has been terrible. Then, too, the earthquakes! And my husband and I worried so about Mary. Oh, Mr. Swift! Do you think there is any chance of us ever seeing her again?”
“I don’t know,” answered Tom, softly. “I’ll do all I can to get us off this island. Perhaps we can build a raft, and set out. If we stay here there is no telling what will happen, if that scientist’s theory is correct. But there is our camp, just ahead. You will be more comfortable, at least for a little while.”
In a short time they were at the place where Tom and the others had built the shack. The ruins of the airship were examined with interest, and the two women took advantage of the seclusion of the little hut, to get some much needed rest until a meal should be ready.
One was soon in course of preparation by Tom and Mr. Damon, aided by Mate Fordam, of the Resolute. Fortunate it was that Mr. Fenwick had brought along such a supply of food, for there were now many mouths to feed.
That the supper (which the meal really was, for it was getting late) was much enjoyed, goes without saying. The yacht castaways had subsisted on what little food had been hurriedly put into the life boat, as they left the vessel.
At Tom’s request, while it was yet light, Captain Mentor and some of the men hunted for a spring of fresh water, and found one, for, with the increase in the party, the young inventor saw the necessity for more water. The spring gave promise of supplying a sufficient quantity.
There was plenty of material at hand for making other shacks, and they were soon in course of construction. They were made light, as was the one Tom and his friends first built, so that, in case of another shock, no one would be hurt seriously. The two ladies were given the larger shack, and the men divided themselves between two others that were hastily erected on the beach. The remainder of the food and stores was taken from the wreck of the airship, and when darkness began to fall, the camp was snug and comfortable, a big fire of driftwood burning brightly.
“Oh, if only we can sleep without being awakened by an earthquake!” exclaimed Mrs. Nestor, as she prepared to go into the shack with Mrs. Anderson. “But I am almost afraid to close my eyes!”
“If it would do any good to stay up and watch, to tell you when one was coming, I’d do so,” spoke Tom, with a laugh, “but they come without warning.”
However, the night did pass peacefully, and there was not the least tremor of the island. In the morning the castaways took courage and, after breakfast, began discussing their situation more calmly.
“It seems to me that the only solution is to build some sort of a raft, or other craft and leave the island,” said Mr. Fenwick.
“Bless my hair brush!” cried Mr. Damon.
“Why can’t we hoist a signal of distress, and wait for some steamer to see it and call for us? It seems to me that would be more simple than going to sea on a raft. I don’t like the idea.”
“A signal would be all right, if this island was in the path of the steamers,” said Captain Mentor. “But it isn’t. Our flag might fly for a year, and never be seen.”
His words seemed to strike coldness to every heart. Tom, who was looking at the wreck of the airship, suddenly uttered an exclamation. He sprang to his feet.
“What is it?” demanded Mr. Fenwick. “Does your sore leg hurt you?”
“No, but I have just thought of a plan!” fairly shouted the young inventor. “I have it! Wait and see if I can work it!”
“Work what?” cried Mr. Damon.
Tom did not get a chance to answer, for, at that moment, there sounded, at the far end of the island, whence the yacht castaways had come, a terrific crash. It was accompanied, rather than followed, by a shaking, trembling and swaying of the ground.
“Another earthquake!” screamed Mrs. Nestor, rushing toward her husband. The castaways gazed at each other affrighted.
Suddenly, before their eyes, they saw the extreme end of that part of the island on which they were camping, slip off, and beneath the foaming waves of the sea, while the echoes of the mighty crash came to their ears!
CHAPTER XVIII
Mr. Jenks Has Diamonds
Stunned, and well-nigh paralyzed by the suddenness of the awful crash, and the recurrence of the earthquake, the castaways gazed spell-bound at one another.
Succeeding the disappearance of the end of the island there arose a great wave in the ocean, caused by the immersion of such a quantity of rock and dirt.
“Look out!” yelled Tom, “there may be a flood here!”
They realized his meaning, and hastened up the beach, out of reach of the water if it should come. And it did. At first the ocean retreated, as though the tide was going out, then, with a rush and roar, the waves came leaping back, and, had the castaways remained where they had been standing they would have been swept cut to sea.
As it was the flood reached part of the wreck of the airship, that lay on the beach, and washed away some of the broken planks. But, after the first rush of water, the sea grew less troubled, and there was no more danger from that source.
True, the whole island was rumbling and trembling in the throes of an earthquake, but, by this time, the refugees had become somewhat used to this, and only the two ladies exhibited any outward signs of great alarm, though Mr. Barcoe Jenks, Tom observed, was nervously fingering the belt which he wore about his waist.
“I guess the worst is over,” spoke Mr. Fenwick, as they stood looking toward where part of the island had vanished. “The shock expended itself on tearing that mass of rock and earth away.”
“Let us hope so,” added Mr. Hosbrook, solemnly. “Oh, if we could only get away from this terrible place! We must hoist a signal of distress, even if we are out of the track of regular vessels. Some ship, blown out of her course may see it. Captain Mentor, I wish you and Mr. Fordam would attend to that.”
“I will, sir,” answered the commander of the ill-fated Resolute. “The signal shall be hoisted at once. Come on, Mr. Fordam,” he added, turning to the first mate.
“If you don’t mind,” interrupted Tom, “I wish you would first help me to get what remains of the airship up out of reach of any more possible high waves. That one nearly covered it, and if there are other big rollers, the wreck may be washed out to sea.”
“I can’t see that any great harm would result from that,” put in Mr. Jenks. “There isn’t anything about the wreck that we could use to make a boat or raft from.” Indeed, there was little left of the airship, save the mass of machinery.
“Well, it may come in handy before we leave here,” said Tom, and there was a quiet determined air about him, that caused Mr. Damon to look at him curiously. The odd gentleman started to utter one of his numerous blessings, and to ask Tom a question, but he thought better of it. By this time the earthquake had ceased, and the castaways were calmer.
Tom started toward the airship wreck, and began pulling off some broken boards to get at the electrical machinery.
“I guess you had better give Mr. Swift a hand, Captain Mentor,” spoke the millionaire yacht owner. “I don’t know what good the wreck can be, but we owe considerable to Mr. Swift and his friends, and the least we can do is to aid them in anything they ask. So, Captain, if you don’t mind, you and the mate bear a hand. In fact, we’ll all help, and move the wreck so far up that there will be no danger, even from tidal waves.”
Tom looked pleased at this order, and soon he and all the men in the little party were busy taking out the electrical apparatus, and moving it farther inland.
“What are you going to do with it, Tom?” asked Mr. Damon, in a low voice, as he assisted the young inventor to carry a small dynamo, that was used for operating the incandescent lights.
“I hardly know myself. I have a half-formed plan in my mind. I may be able to carry it out, and I may not. I don’t want to say anything until I look over the machinery, and see if all the parts which I need are here. Please say nothing about it.”
“Bless my toothpick! Of course, I’ll not,” promised Mr. Damon.
When the removal of most of the machinery of the wrecked airship had been completed, Mrs. Nestor exclaimed:
“Well, since you are moving that out of harm’s way, don’t you think it would be a good idea to change our camp, also? I’m sure I’ll never sleep a wink, thinking that part of the island may fall into the ocean at any moment in the night, and create a wave that may wash us all out to sea. Can’t we move the camp, Mr. Swift?”
“No reason why we can’t,” answered the lad, smiling. “I think it would be a good plan to take it farther back. We are likely to be here some time, and, while we are about it, we might build more complete shelters, and have a few more comforts.”
The others agreed with this idea, so the little shacks that had been erected were taken down, and moved to higher ground, where a better outlook could be had of the surrounding ocean. At the same time as safe a place as possible, considering the frequent earthquakes, was picked out—a place where there were no overhanging rocks or cliffs.
Three huts were built, one for the two ladies, one for the men, and third where the cooking could be done. This last also held the food supplies and stores, and Tom noted, with satisfaction, that there was still sufficient to eat to last over a week. Mr. Fenwick had not stinted his kitchen stores.
This work done, Captain Mentor and Mate Fordam went to the highest part of the island, where they erected a signal, made from pieces of canvas that had been in the life boat. The boat itself was brought around to the new camp, and at first it was hoped that it could be repaired, and used. But too large a hole had been stove in the bottom, so it was broken up, and the planks used in making the shacks.
This work occupied the better part of two days, and during this time, there were no more earthquakes. The castaways began to hope that the island would not be quiet for a while. Mrs. Anderson and Mrs. Nestor assumed charge of the “housekeeping” arrangements, and also the cooking, which relieved Tom from those duties. The two ladies even instituted “wash-day,” and when a number of garments were hung on lines to dry, the camp looked like some summer colony of pleasure-seekers, out for a holiday.
In the meanwhile, Tom had spent most of his time among the machinery which had been taken from the airship. He inspected it carefully, tested some of the apparatus, and made some calculations on a bit of paper. He seemed greatly pleased over something, and one afternoon, when he was removing some of the guy and stay wires from the collapsed frame of the Whizzer, he was approached by Mr. Barcoe Jenks.
“Planning something new?” asked Mr. Jenks, with an attempt at jollity, which, however, failed. The man had a curious air about him, as if he was carrying some secret that was too much for him.
“Well, nothing exactly new,” answered Tom. “At best I am merely going to try an experiment.”
“An experiment, eh?” resumed Mr. Jenks, “And might I ask if it has anything to do with rescuing us from this island?”
“I hope it will have,” answered Tom, gravely.
“Good!” exclaimed Mr. Jenks. “Well, now I have a proposition to make to you. I suppose you are not very wealthy, Mr. Swift?” He gazed at Tom, quizzically.
“I am not poor,” was the young inventor’s proud answer, “but I would be glad to make more money—legitimately.”
“I thought so. Most every one would. Look here!”
He approached closer to Tom, and, pulling his hand from his pocket, held it extended, in the palm were a number of irregularly-shaped objects—stones or crystals the lad took them to be, yet they did not look like ordinary stones or crystals.
“Do you know what those are?” asked Mr. Jenks.
“I might guess,” replied Tom.
“I’ll save you the trouble. They are diamonds! Diamonds of the very first water, but uncut. Now to the point. I have half a million dollars worth of them. If you get me safely off this island, I will agree to make you a quarter of a million dollars worth of diamonds!”
“Make me a quarter of a million dollars worth of diamonds?” asked Tom, struck by the use of the work “make.”
“Yes, ‘make,’” answered Mr. Jenks. “That is if I can discover the secret—the secret of Phantom Mountain. Get me away from the island and I will share my knowledge with you—I need help—help to learn the secret and help to make the diamonds—see, there are some of the first ones made, but I have been defrauded of my rights—I need the aid of a young fellow like you. Will you help? See, I’ll give you some diamonds now. They are genuine, though they are not like ordinary diamonds. I made them. Will you—”
Before Tom could answer, there came a warning rumble of the earth, and a great fissure opened, almost at the feet of Mr. Jenks, who, with a cry of fear, leaped toward the young inventor.
CHAPTER XIX
Secret Operations
“Help me save this machinery!” yelled Tom, whose first thought was for the electrical apparatus. “Don’t let it fall into that chasm!”
The Tom Swift Megapack Page 73
