For the crack had widened, until it was almost to the place where the parts of the wrecked airship had been carried.
“The machinery? What do I care about the machinery?” cried Mr. Jenks. “I want to save my life!”
“And this machinery is our only hope!” retorted Tom. He began tugging at the heavy dynamos and gasolene engine, but he might have saved himself the trouble, for with the same suddenness with which it opened, the crack closed again. The shock had done it, and, as if satisfied with that phenomena, the earthquake ceased, and the island no longer trembled.
“That was a light one,” spoke Tom, with an air of relief. He was becoming used to the shocks now, and, when he saw that his precious machinery was not damaged he could view the earth tremors calmly.
“Slight!” exclaimed Mr. Jenks. “Well, I don’t call it so. But I see Captain Mentor and Mr. Hosbrook coming. Please don’t say anything to them about the diamonds. I’ll see you again,” and with that, the queer Mr. Jenks walked away.
“We came to see if you were hurt,” called the captain, as he neared the young inventor.
“No, I’m all right. How about the others?”
“Only frightened,” replied the yacht owner. “This is getting awful. I hoped we were free from the shocks, but they still continue.”
“And I guess they will,” added Tom. “We certainly are on Earthquake Island!”
“Mr. Parker, the scientist, says this last shock bears out his theory,” went on the millionaire. “He says it will be only a question of a few days when the whole island will disappear.”
“Comforting, to say the least,” commented Tom.
“I should say so. But what are you doing, Mr. Swift?”
“Trying an experiment,” answered the young inventor, in some confusion. He was not yet ready to talk about his plans.
“We must begin to think seriously of building some sort of a boat or raft, and getting away from the island,” went on the millionaire. “It will be perilous to go to sea with anything we can construct, but it is risking our lives to stay here. I don’t know what to do.”
“Perhaps Captain Mentor has some plan,” suggested Tom, hoping to change the subject.
“No,” answered the commander, “I confess I am at a loss to know what to do. There is nothing with which to do anything, that is the trouble! But I did think of hoisting another signal, on this end of the island, where it might be seen if our first one wasn’t. I believe I’ll do that,” and he moved away, to carry out his intention.
“Well, I think I’ll get back, Tom, and tell the others that you are all right,” spoke Mr. Hosbrook. “I left the camp, after the shock, because Mrs. Nestor was worried about you.” The place to which the airship machinery had been removed was some distance from the camp, and out of sight of the shacks.
“Oh, yes. I’m all right,” said Tom. Then, with a sudden impulse, he asked:
“Do you know much about this Mr. Barcoe Jenks, Mr. Hosbrook?”
“Not a great deal,” was the reply. “In fact, I may say I do not know him at all. Why do you ask?”
“Because I thought he acted rather strangely.”
“Just what the rest of us think,” declared the yacht owner. “He is no friend of mine, though he was my guest on the Resolute. It came about in this way. I had invited a Mr. Frank Jackson to make the trip with me, and he asked if he could bring with him a Mr. Jenks, a friend of his. I assented, and Mr. Jackson came aboard with Mr. Jenks. Just as we were about to sail Mr. Jackson received a message requiring his presence in Canada, and he could not make the trip.”
“But Mr. Jenks seemed so cut-up about being deprived of the yachting trip, and was so fond of the water, that I invited him to remain on board, even if his friend did not. So that is how he came to be among my guests, though he is a comparative stranger to all of us.”
“I see,” spoke Tom.
“Has he been acting unusually strange?” asked Mr. Hosbrook suspiciously.
“No, only he seemed very anxious to get off the island, but I suppose we all are. He wanted to know what I planned to do.”
“Did you tell him?”
“No, for the reason that I don’t know whether I can succeed or not, and I don’t want to raise false hopes.”
“Then you would prefer not to tell any of us?”
“No one—that is except Mr. Fenwick and Mr. Damon. I may need them to help me.”
“I see,” responded Mr. Hosbrook. “Well, whatever it is, I wish you luck. It is certainly a fearful place—this island,” and busy with many thoughts, which crowded upon him, the millionaire moved away, leaving Tom alone.
A little while after this Tom might have been seen in close conversation with Mr. Damon and Mr. Fenwick. The former, on hearing what the young inventor had to say, blessed himself and his various possessions so often, that he seemed to have gotten out of breath. Mr. Fenwick exclaimed:
“Tom, if you can work that it will be one of the greatest things you have ever done!”
“I hope I can work it,” was all the young inventor replied.
For the next three days Tom, and his two friends, spent most of their time in the neighborhood of the pile of machinery and apparatus taken from the wrecked Whizzer. Mr. Jenks hung around the spot, but a word or two from Mr. Hosbrook sent him away, and our three friends were left to their work in peace, for they were inclined to be secretive about their operations, as Tom did not want his plans known until he was ready.
The gasolene motor was overhauled, and put in shape to work. Then it was attached to the dynamo. When this much had been done, Tom and his friends built a rude shack around the machinery shutting it from view.
“Humph! Are you afraid we will steal it?” asked Mr. Parker, the scientist, who held to his alarming theory regarding the ultimate disappearance of the island.
“No, I simply want to protect it from the weather,” answered Tom. “You will soon know all our plans. I think they will work out.”
“You’d better do it before we get another earthquake, and the island sinks,” was the dismal response.
But there had been no shocks since the one that nearly engulfed Mr. Jenks. As for that individual he said little to any one, and wandered off alone by himself. Tom wondered what kind of diamonds they were that the odd man had, and the lad even had his doubts as to the value of the queer stones he had seen. But he was too busy with his work to waste much time in idle speculation.
CHAPTER XX
The Wireless Plant
The castaways had been on Earthquake Island a week now, and in that time had suffered many shocks. Some were mere tremors, and some were so severe as to throw whole portions of the isle into the sea. They never could tell when a shock was coming, and often one awakened them in the night.
But, in spite of this, the refugees were as cheerful as it was possible to be under the circumstances. Only Mr. Jenks seemed nervous and ill at ease, and he kept much by himself.
As for Tom, Mr. Damon and Mr. Fenwick, the three were busy in their shack. The others had ceased to ask questions about what they were doing, and Mr. Nestor and his wife took it for granted that Tom was building a boat.
Captain Mentor and the mate spent much time gazing off to sea, hoping for a sight of the sail of some vessel, or the haze that would indicate the smoke of a steamer. But they saw nothing.
“I haven’t much hope of sighting anything,” the captain said. “I know we are off the track of the regular liners, and our only chance would be that some tramp steamer, or some ship blown off her course, would see our signal. I tell you, friends, we’re in a bad way.”
“If money was any object—,” began Mr. Jenks.
“What good would money be?” demanded Mr. Hosbrook. “What we need to do is to get a message to some one—some of my friends—to send out a party to rescue us.”
“That’s right,” chimed in Mr. Parker, the scientist. “And the message needs to go off soon, if we are to be saved.”
“Why
so?” asked Mr. Anderson.
“Because I think this island will sink inside of a week!”
A scream came from the two ladies.
“Why don’t you keep such thoughts to yourself?” demanded the millionaire yacht owner, indignantly.
“Well, it’s true,” stubbornly insisted the scientist.
“What if it is? It doesn’t do any good to remind us of it.”
“Bless my gizzard, no!” exclaimed Mr. Damon. “Suppose we have dinner. I’m hungry.”
That seemed to be his remedy for a number of ills.
“If we only could get a message off, summoning help, it would be the very thing,” sighed Mrs. Nestor. “Oh, how I wish I could send my daughter, Mary, word of where we are. She may hear of the wreck of the Resolute, and worry herself to death.”
“But it is out of the question to send a message for help from Earthquake Island,” added Mrs. Anderson. “We are totally cut off from the rest of the world here.”
“Perhaps not,” spoke Tom Swift, quietly. He had come up silently, and had heard the conversation.
“What’s that you said?” cried Mr. Nestor, springing to his feet, and crossing the sandy beach toward the lad.
“I said perhaps we weren’t altogether cut off from the rest of the world,” repeated Tom.
“Why not,” demanded Captain Mentor. “You don’t mean to say that you have been building a boat up there in your little shack, do you?”
“Not a boat,” replied Tom, “but I think I have a means of sending out a call for help!”
“Oh, Tom—Mr. Swift—how?” exclaimed Mrs. Nestor. “Do you mean we can send a message to my Mary?”
“Well, not exactly to her,” answered the young inventor, though he wished that such a thing were possible. “But I think I can summon help.”
“How?” demanded Mr. Hosbrook. “Have you managed to discover some cable line running past the island, and have you tapped it?”
“Not exactly.” was Tom’s calm answer, “but I have succeeded, with the help of Mr. Damon and Mr. Fenwick, in building an apparatus that will send out wireless messages!”
“Wireless messages!” gasped the millionaire. “Are you sure?”
“Wireless messages!” exclaimed Mr. Jenks. “I’ll give—” He paused, clasped his hands on his belt, and turned away.
“Oh, Tom!” cried Mrs. Nestor, and she went up to the lad, threw her arms about his neck, and kissed him; whereat Tom blushed.
“Perhaps you’d better explain,” suggested Mr. Anderson.
“I will,” said the lad. “That is the secret we have been engaged upon—Mr. Damon, Mr. Fenwick and myself. We did not want to say anything about it until we were sure we could succeed.”
“And are you sure now?” asked Captain Mentor.
“Fairly so.”
“How could you build a wireless station?” inquired Mr. Hosbrook.
“From the electrical machinery that was in the wrecked Whizzer,” spoke Tom. “Fortunately, that was not damaged by the shock of the fall, and I have managed to set up the gasolene engine, and attach the dynamo to it so that we can generate a powerful current. We also have a fairly good storage battery, though that was slightly damaged by the fall.”
“I have just tested the machinery, and I think we can send out a strong enough message to carry at least a thousand miles.”
“Then that will reach some station, or some passing ship,” murmured Captain Mentor. “There is a chance that we may be saved.”
“If it isn’t too late,” gloomily murmured the scientist. “There is no telling when the island will disappear beneath the sea.”
But they were all so interested in Tom’s announcement that they paid little attention to this dire foreboding.
“Tell us about it,” suggested Mr. Nestor. And Tom did.
He related how he had set up the dynamo and gasolene engine, and how, by means of the proper coils and other electrical apparatus, all of which, fortunately, was aboard the Whizzer, he could produce a powerful spark.
“I had to make a key out of strips of brass, to produce the Morse characters,” the lad said. “This took considerable time, but it works, though it is rather crude. I can click out a message with it.”
“That may be,” said Mr. Hosbrook, who had been considering installing a wireless plant on his yacht, and who, therefore, knew something about it, “you may send a message, but can you receive an answer?”
“I have also provided for that,” replied Tom. “I have made a receiving instrument, though that is even more crude than the sending plant, for it had to be delicately adjusted, and I did not have just the magnets, carbons, coherers and needles that I needed. But I think it will work.”
“Did you have a telephone receiver to use?”
“Yes. There was a small interior telephone arrangement on Mr. Fenwick’s airship, and part of that came in handy. Oh, I think I can hear any messages that may come in answer to ours.”
“But what about the aerial wires for sending and receiving messages?” asked Mr. Nestor.
“Don’t you have to have several wires on a tall mast?”
“Yes, and that is the last thing to do,” declared Tom. “I need all your help in putting up those wires. That tall tree on the crest of the island will do,” and he pointed to a dead palm that towered gaunt and bare like a ship’s mast, on a pile of rocks in the centre of Earthquake Island.
CHAPTER XXI
Messages Into Space
Tom Swift’s announcement of the practical completion of his wireless plant brought hope to the discouraged hearts of the castaways. They crowded about him, and asked all manner of questions.
Mr. Fenwick and Mr. Damon came in for their share of attention, for Tom said had it not been for the aid of his friends he never could have accomplished what he did. Then they all trooped up to the little shack, and inspected the plant.
As the young inventor had said, it was necessarily crude, but when he set the gasolene motor going, and the dynamo whizzed and hummed, sending out great, violet-hued sparks, they were all convinced that the young inventor had accomplished wonders, considering the materials at his disposal.
“But it’s going to be no easy task to rig up the sending and receiving wires,” declared Tom. “That will take some time.”
“Have you got the wire?” asked Mr. Jenks.
“I took it from the stays of the airship,” was Tom’s reply, and he recalled the day he was at that work, when the odd man had exhibited the handful of what he said were diamonds. Tom wondered if they really were, and he speculated as to what might be the secret of Phantom Mountain, to which Mr. Jenks had referred.
But now followed a busy time for all. Under the direction of the young inventor, they began to string the wires from the top of the dead tree, to a smaller one, some distance away, using five wires, set parallel, and attached to a wooden spreader, or stay. The wires were then run to the dynamo, and the receiving coil, and the necessary ground wires were installed.
“But I can’t understand how you are going to do it,” said Mrs. Nestor. “I’ve read about wireless messages, but I can’t get it through my head. How is it done, Mr. Swift?”
“The theory is very simple,” said the young inventor. “To send a message by wire, over a telegraph system, a battery or dynamo is used. This establishes a current over wires stretched between two points. By means of what is called a ‘key’ this current is interrupted, or broken, at certain intervals, making the sounding instrument send out clicks. A short click is called a dot, and a long click a dash. By combinations of dots, dashes, and spaces between the dots and dashes, letters are spelled out. For instance, a dot and a space and a dash, represent the letter ‘A’ and so on.”
“I understand so far,” admitted Mrs. Nestor.
“In telegraphing without wires,” went on Tom, “the air is used in place of a metallic conductor, with the help of the earth, which in itself is a big magnet, or a battery, as you choose to regard it. The ear
th helps to establish the connection between places where there are no wires, when we ‘ground’ certain conductors.”
“To send a wireless message a current is generated by a dynamo. The current flows along until it gets to the ends of the sending wires, which we have just strung. Then it leaps off into space, so to speak, until it reaches the receiving wires, wherever they may be erected. That is why any wireless receiving station, within a certain radius, can catch any messages that may be flying through the air—that is unless certain apparatus is tuned, or adjusted, to prevent this.”
“Well, once the impulses, or electric currents, are sent out into space, all that is necessary to do is to break, or interrupt them at certain intervals, to make dots, dashes and spaces. These make corresponding clicks in the telephone receiver which the operator at the receiving station wears on his ear. He hears the code of clicks, and translates them into letters, the letters into words and the words into sentences. That is how wireless messages are sent.”
“And do you propose to send some that way?” asked Mrs. Anderson.
“I do,” replied Tom, with a smile.
“Where to?” Mrs. Nestor wanted to know.
“That’s what I can’t tell,” was Tom’s reply. “I will have to project them off into space, and trust to chance that some listening wireless operator will ‘pick them up,’ as they call it, and send us aid.”
“But are wireless operators always listening?” asked Mr. Nestor.
“Somewhere, some of them are—I hope,” was Tom’s quiet answer. “As I said, we will have to trust much to chance. But other people have been saved by sending messages off into space; and why not we? Sinking steamers have had their passengers taken off when the operator called for help, merely by sending a message into space.”
“But how can we tell them where to come for us—on this unknown island?” inquired Mrs. Anderson.
“I fancy Captain Mentor can supply our longitude and latitude,” answered Tom. “I will give that with every message I send out, and help may come—some day.”
The Tom Swift Megapack Page 74
