“Over an island!” cried Mr. Damon.  He looked down through the floor observation window.  Tom had spoken truly.  At that moment they were over a large island, which had suddenly loomed up in the wild and desolate waste of the ocean.  They had reached its vicinity just in time.

Tom stepped to the steering and rudder levers, and took charge.  He was going to attempt a most difficult feat—­that of guiding a disabled airship back to earth in the midst of a hurricane, and landing her on an unknown island.  Could he do it?

There was but one answer.  He must try.  It was the only chance of saving their lives, and a slim one at best

Down shot the damaged whizzer like some giant bird with broken wings, but Tom Swift was in charge, and it seemed as if the craft knew it, as she began that earthward glide.

CHAPTER XIII

ON EARTHQUAKE ISLAND

Mingled feelings possessed the three adventurers within the airship.  Mr. Damon and Mr. Fenwick had crowded to the window, as Tom spoke, to get a glimpse of the unknown island toward which they were shooting.  They could see it more plainly now, from the forward casement, as well as from the one in the bottom of the craft.  A long, narrow, rugged piece of land it was, in the midst of the heaving ocean, for the storm still raged and lashed the waves to foam.

“Can you make it?” asked Mr. Damon, in a low voice.

“I think so,” answered Tom, more cheerfully.

“Shall I shut down the motor?” inquired the older inventor.

“Yes, you might as well.  We don’t need the propellers now, and I may be better able to make the glide without them.”

The buzzing and purring electrical apparatus was shut down.  Silence reigned in the airship, but the wind still howled outside.  As Tom had hoped, the ship became a little more steady with the stopping of the big curved blades, though had the craft been undamaged they would have served to keep her on an even keel.

With skillful hand he so tilted the elevating planes that, after a swift downward glide, the head of the whizzer would be thrown up, so to speak, and she would sail along in a plane parallel to the island.  This had the effect of checking her momentum, just as the aviator checks the downward rush of his monoplane or biplane when he is making a landing.

Tom repeated this maneuver several times, until a glance at his barograph showed that they had but a scant sixty feet to go.  There was time but for one more upward throwing of the WHIZZER’s nose, and Tom held to that position as long as possible.  They could now make out the topography of the island plainly, for it was much lighter.  Tom saw a stretch of sandy beach, and steered for that.

Downward shot the airship, inert and lifeless.  It was not like gliding his little butterfly to earth after a flight, but Tom hoped he could make it.  They were now within ten feet of the earth, skimming forward.  Tom tried another upward tilt, but the forward planes would not respond.  They could get no grip on the air.