Chapter XXIII A Reply In The Dark
The young inventor looked out of the wireless shack. Down on the beach he saw the little band of castaways. They were gathered in a group about Mr. Jenks, who seemed to be talking earnestly to them. The two ladies were over near the small building that served as a kitchen.
"More food supplies needed, eh?" mused Tom. "Well, I don't know where any more is to come from. We've stripped the Whizzer bare." He glanced toward what remained of the airship. "I guess we'll have to go on short rations, until help comes," and, wondering what the group of men could be talking about, Tom resumed his clicking out of his wireless message.
He continued to send it into space for several minutes after ten o'clock, the hour at which he usually stopped for the morning, for he thought there might be a possible chance that the electrical impulses would be picked up by some vessel far out at sea, or by some station operator who could send help.
But there came no answering clicks to the "E. I." station--to Earthquake 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 get off this island, and that's the only way we can do it. I have large interests at stake. If we wait for a reply to this wireless message we may all be killed, though I appreciate that Mr. Swift is doing his best to aid us. But it is hopeless!"
"What do you think about it, Tom?" asked Mr. Damon, turning to the young inventor.
"Think about what?"
"Why Mr. Jenks has just proposed that we build a big raft, and launch it. He thinks we should leave the island."
"It might be a good idea," agreed the lad, as he thought of the scant food supply. "Of course, I can't say when a reply will be received to my calls for aid, and it is best to be prepared."