“It’s a wonder we came out alive,” said Mr. Fenwick, in a low voice.

“Indeed it is,” agreed Tom, as he came back with a tin can full of sea water, with which to bathe Mr. Damon’s head.  The lad had picked up the can from where it had rolled from the wreck, and they had landed right on the beach.

“It doesn’t seem to blow so hard,” observed Mr. Damon, as he was tenderly sopping his head with a handkerchief wet in the salt water.

“No, the wind is dying out, but it happened too late to do us any good,” remarked Tom, sorrowfully.  “Though if it hadn’t blown us this far, we might have come to grief over the ocean, and be floundering in that, instead of on dry land.”

“That’s so,” agreed Mr. Fenwick, who was carefully feeling of some bruises on his legs.  “I wonder where we are, anyhow?”

“I haven’t the least idea,” responded Tom.  “It’s an island, but which one, or where it is I don’t know.  We were blown nearly two thousand miles, I judge.”

He walked over and surveyed the wreck.  Now that the excitement was over he was beginning to be aware of numerous bruises and contusions, His legs felt rather queer, and on rolling up his trousers he found there was a deep cut in the right shin, just below his knee.  It was bleeding, but he bandaged it with a spare handkerchief, and walked on.

Peering about, he saw that nearly the whole of the machinery in the engine room, including most of the electrical apparatus, had fallen bodily through the floor, and now rested on the sand.

“That looks to be in pretty good shape.” mused Tom, “but it’s a question whether it will ever be any good to us.  We can’t rebuild the airship here, that’s certain.”

He walked about the wreck, and then returned to his friends.  Mr. Damon was more like himself, and Mr. Fenwick had discovered that he had only minor bruises.

“Bless my coffee cup!” exclaimed Mr. Damon.  “I declare, I feel hungry.  I wonder if there’s anything left to eat in the wreck?”

“Plenty,” spoke Tom, cheerfully.  “I’ll get it out.  I can eat a sandwich or too myself, and perhaps I can set up the gasolene stove, and cook something.”

As the young inventor was returning to the wreck, he was halted halfway by a curious trembling feeling.  At first he thought it was a weakness of his legs, caused by his cut, but a moment later he realized with a curious, sickening sensation that it was the ground--the island itself—­that was shaking and trembling.

The lad turned back.  Mr. Damon and Mr. Fenwick were staring after him with fear showing on their faces.

“What was that?” cried the inventor.

“Bless my gizzard!  Did you feel that, Tom?” cried Mr. Damon.  “The whole place is shaking!”

Indeed, there was a stronger tremor now, and it was accompanied by a low, rumbling sound, like distant thunder.  The adventurers were swaying to and fro.