Tom Swift and His Wireless Message; Or, The Castaways of Earthquake Island

by Victor Appleton

  CHAPTER XXIII

  A REPLY IN THE DARK

  The young inventor looked out of the wireless shack. Down on thebeach he saw the little band of castaways. They were gathered in agroup about Mr. Jenks, who seemed to be talking earnestly to them.The two ladies were over near the small building that served as akitchen.

  "More food supplies needed, eh?" mused Tom. "Well, I don't knowwhere any more is to come from. We've stripped the WHIZZER bare." Heglanced toward what remained of the airship. "I guess we'll have togo on short rations, until help comes," and, wondering what thegroup of men could be talking about, Tom resumed his clicking out ofhis wireless message.

  He continued to send it into space for several minutes after teno'clock, the hour at which he usually stopped for the morning, forhe thought there might be a possible chance that the electricalimpulses would be picked up by some vessel far out at sea, or bysome station operator who could send help.

  But there came no answering clicks to the "E. I." station--toEarthquake Island--and, after a little longer working of the key,Tom shut down the dynamo, and joined the group on the beach.

  "I tell you it's our only chance," Mr. Jenks was saying. "I must getoff this island, and that's the only way we can do it. I have largeinterests at stake. If we wait for a reply to this wireless messagewe may all be killed, though I appreciate that Mr. Swift is doinghis best to aid us. But it is hopeless!"

  "What do you think about it, Tom?" asked Mr. Damon, turning to theyoung inventor.

  "Think about what?"

  "Why Mr. Jenks has just proposed that we build a big raft, andlaunch it. He thinks we should leave the island."

  "It might be a good idea," agreed the lad, as he thought of thescant food supply. "Of course, I can't say when a reply will bereceived to my calls for aid, and it is best to be prepared."

  "Especially as the island may sink any minute," added Mr. Parker."If it does, even a raft will be little good, as it may be swampedin the vortex. I think it would be a good plan to make one, thenanchor it some distance out from the island. Then we can make asmall raft, and paddle out to the big one in a hurry if need be."

  "Yes, that's a good idea, too," conceded Tom.

  "And we must stock it well with provisions," said Mr. Damon. "Putplenty of water and food aboard."

  "We can't," spoke Tom, quietly.

  "Why not?"

  "Because we haven't plenty of provisions. That's what I came down tospeak about," and the lad related what Mrs. Nestor had said.

  "Then there is but one thing to do," declared Mr. Fenwick.

  "What?" asked Captain Mentor.

  "We must go on half rations, or quarter rations, if need be. Thatwill make our supply last longer. And another thing--we must not letthe women folks know. Just pretend that we're not hungry, but takeonly a quarter, or at most, not more than a half of what we havebeen in the habit of taking. There is plenty of water, thankgoodness, and we may be able to live until help comes."

  "Then shall we build the raft?" asked Mr. Hosbrook.

  It was decided that this would be a good plan, and they started itthat same day. Trees were felled, with axes and saws that had beenaboard the WHIZZER, and bound together, in rude fashion, with strongtrailing vines from the forest. A smaller raft, as a sort of ferry,was also made.

  This occupied them all that day, and part of the next. In themeanwhile, Tom continued to flash out his appeals for help, but noanswers came. The men cut down their rations, and when the twoladies joked them on their lack of appetite, they said nothing. Tomwas glad that Mrs. Nestor did not renew her request to him to getout the reserve food supply from what remained in the wreck of theairship. Perhaps Mr. Nestor had hinted to her the real situation.

  The large raft was towed out into a quiet bay of the island, andanchored there by means of a heavy rock, attached to a rope. Onboard were put cans of water, which were lashed fast, but no foodcould be spared to stock the rude craft. All the castaways coulddepend on, was to take with them, in the event of the islandbeginning to sink, what rations they had left when the final shockshould come.

  This done, they could only wait, and weary was that waiting. Tomkept faithfully to his schedule, and his ear ached from the constantpressure of the telephone receiver. He heard message after messageflash through space, and click on his instrument, but none of themwas in answer to his. On his face there came a grim and hopelesslook.

  One afternoon, a week following the erection of the wirelessstation, Mate Fordam came upon a number of turtles. He caught some,by turning them over on their backs, and also located a number ofnests of eggs under the warm sands.

  "This will be something to eat," he said, joyfully, and indeed theturtles formed a welcome food supply. Some fish were caught, andsome clams were cast up by the tide, all of which eked out thescanty food supply that remained. The two ladies suspected the truthnow and they, too, cut down their allowance.

  Tom, who had been sitting with the men in their sleeping shack, thatevening, rose, as the hour of ten approached. It was time to sendout the last message of the night, and then he would lie down on animprovised couch, with the telephone receiver clamped to his ear, towait, in the silence of the darkness, for the message saying thathelp was on the way.

  "Well, are you off?" asked Mr. Damon, kindly. "I wish some of uscould relieve you, Tom."

  "Oh, I don't mind it," answered the lad "Perhaps the message maycome to-night."

  Hardly had he spoken than there sounded the ominous rumble andshaking that presaged another earthquake. The shack rocked, andthreatened to come down about their heads.

  "We must be doomed!" cried Mr. Parker. "The island is about to sink!Make for the raft!"

  "Wait and see how bad it is," counseled Mr. Hosbrook. "It may beonly a slight shock."

  Indeed, as he spoke, the trembling of the island ceased, and therewas silence. The two ladies, who had retired to their own privateshack, ran out screaming, and Mr. Anderson and Mr. Nestor hastenedover to be with their wives.

  "I guess it's passed over," spoke Mr. Fenwick.

  An instant later there came another tremor, but it was not like thatof an earthquake shock. It was more like the rumble and vibration ofan approaching train.

  "Look!" cried Tom, pointing to the left. Their gaze went in thatdirection, and, under the light of a full moon they saw, slidinginto the sea, a great portion of one of the rocky hills.

  "A landslide!" cried Captain Mentor. "The island is slowly breakingup."

  "It confirms my theory!" said Mr. Parker, almost in triumph.

  "Forget your theory for a while, Parker, please," begged Mr.Hosbrook. "We're lucky to have left a place on which to stand! Oh,when will we be rescued?" he asked hopelessly.

  The worst seemed to be over at least for the present, and, learningthat the two ladies were quieted, Tom started up the hill to hiswireless station. Mr. Damon and Mr. Fenwick went with him, to aid instarting the motor and dynamo. Then, after the message had beenclicked out as usual Tom would begin his weary waiting.

  They found that the earthquake shock had slightly disturbed theapparatus, and it took them half an hour to adjust it. As there hadbeen a delay on account of the landslide, it was eleven o'clockbefore Tom began sending out any flashes, and he kept it up untilmidnight. But there came no replies, so he shut off the power, andprepared to get a little rest.

  "It looks pretty hopeless; doesn't it?" said Mr. Fenwick, as he andMr. Damon were on their way back to the sleeping shack.

  "Yes, it does. Our signal hasn't been seen, no ships have passedthis way, and our wireless appeal isn't answered. It does lookhopeless but, do you know, I haven't given up yet."

  "Why not?"

  "Because I have faith in Tom Swift's luck!" declared the eccentricman. "If you had been with him as much as I have, up in the air, andunder the water, and had seen the tight places he has gotten out of,you'd feel the same, too!"

  "Perhaps, but here there doesn't seem to be anything to do. It alldepends on some one else." />
  "That's all right. You leave it to Tom. He'll get an answer yet, yousee if he doesn't."

  It was an hour past midnight. Tom tossed uneasily on the hard bedin the wireless shack. The telephone receiver on his ear hurt him,and he could not sleep.

  "I may as well sit up for a while," he told himself, and he arose.In the dimness of the shack he could see the outlines of the dynamoand the motor.

  "Guess I'll start her up, and send out some calls," he murmured. "Imight just happen to catch some ship operator who is up late. I'lltry it."

  The young inventor started the motor, and soon the dynamo waspurring away. He tested the wireless apparatus. It shot out greatlong sparks, which snapped viciously through the air. Then, in thesilence of the night, Tom clicked off his call for help for thecastaways of Earthquake Island.

  For half an hour he sent it away into space, none of the others intheir shacks below him, awakening. Then Tom, having worked off hisrestless fit, was about to return to bed.

  But what was this? What was that clicking in the telephone receiverat his ear? He listened. It was not a jumble of dots and dashes,conveying through space a message that meant nothing to him. No! Itwas his own call that was answered. The call of his station--"E.I."--Earthquake Island!

  "WHERE ARE YOU? WHAT'S WANTED?"

  That was the message that was clicked to Tom from somewhere in thegreat void.

  "I GET YOUR MESSAGE 'E. I.' WHAT'S WANTED? DO I HEAR YOU RIGHT?REPEAT." Tom heard those questions in the silence of the night.

  With trembling fingers Tom pressed his own key. Out into thedarkness went his call for help.

  "WE ARE ON EARTHQUAKE ISLAND." He gave the longitude and latitude."COME QUICKLY OR WE WILL BE ENGULFED IN THE SEA! WE ARE CASTAWAYSFROM THE YACHT 'RESOLUTE,' AND THE AIRSHIP 'WHIZZER.' CAN YOU SAVEUS?"

  Came then this query:

  "WHAT'S THAT ABOUT AIRSHIP?"

  "NEVER MIND AIRSHIP," clicked Tom. "SEND HELP QUICKLY! WHO ARE YOU?"

  The answer flashed to him through space:

  "STEAMSHIP 'CAMBARANIAN' FROM RIO DE JANEIRO TO NEW YORK. JUSTCAUGHT YOUR MESSAGE. THOUGHT IT A FAKE."

  "NO FAKE," Tom sent back. "HELP US QUICKLY! HOW SOON CAN YOU COME?"

  There was a wait, and the wireless operator clicked to Tom that hehad called the captain. Then came the report:

  "WE WILL BE THERE WITHIN TWENTY-FOUR HOURS. KEEP IN COMMUNICATIONWITH US."

  "YOU BET I WILL," flashed back Tom, his heart beating joyously, andthen he let out a great shout. "We are saved! We are saved! Mywireless message is answered! A steamer is on her way to rescue us!"

  He rushed from the shack, calling to the others.

  "What's that?" demanded Mr. Hosbrook.

  Tom briefly told of how the message had come to him in the night.

  "Tell them to hurry," begged the rich yacht owner. "Say that I willgive twenty thousand dollars reward if we are taken off!"

  "And I'll do the same," cried Mr. Jenks. "I must get to the placewhere--" Then he seemed to recollect himself, and stopped suddenly."Tell them to hurry," he begged Tom. The whole crowd of castaways,save the women, were gathered about the wireless shack.

  "They'll need to hurry," spoke Mr. Parker, the gloomy scientist."The island may sink before morning!"

  Mr. Hosbrook and the others glared at him, but he seemed to takedelight in his prediction.

  Suddenly the wireless instruments hummed.

  "Another message," whispered Tom. He listened.

  "THE 'CAMBARANIAN' WILL RUSH HERE WITH ALL SPEED," he announced, andnot a heart there on that lonely and desolate island but sent up aprayer of thankfulness.