Their momentary fright over, the castaways proceeded to get their breakfast.  Tom soon had water boiling on the gasolene stove, for he had rescued a tea-kettle and a coffee pot from the wreck of the kitchen of the airship.  Shortly afterward, the aroma of coffee filled the air, and a little later there was mingled with it the appetizing odor of sizzling bacon and eggs, for Mr. Fenwick, who was very fond of the latter, had brought along a supply, carefully packed in sawdust carriers, so that the shock had broken only a few of them.

“Well, I call this a fine breakfast,” exclaimed Mr. Damon, munching his bacon and eggs, and dipping into his coffee the hard pilot biscuit, which they had instead of bread.  “We’re mighty lucky to be eating at all, I suppose.”

“Indeed we are,” chimed in Mr. Fenwick.

“I’m awfully sorry the airship is wrecked, though,” spoke Tom.  “I suppose it’s my fault.  I should have turned back before we got over the ocean, and while the storm was not at its height.  I saw that the wind was freshening, but I never supposed it would grow to a gale so suddenly.  The poor old whizzer—­there’s not much left of her!”

“Now don’t distress yourself in the least,” insisted Mr. Fenwick.  “I’m proud to have built a ship that could navigate at all.  I see where I made lots of mistakes, and as soon as I get back to Philadelphia, I’m going to build a better one, if you’ll help me, Tom Swift.”

“I certainly will,” promised the young inventor.

“And I’ll take a voyage with you!” cried Mr. Damon.  “Bless my teaspoon, Tom, but will you kindly pass the bacon and eggs again!”

There was a jolly laugh at the eccentric man, in which he himself joined, and the little party felt better.  They were seated on bits of broken boxes taken from the wreck, forming a little circle about the gasolene stove, which Tom had set up on the beach.  The wind had almost entirely died away, though the sea was still heaving in great billows, and masses of surf.

They had no exact idea of the time, for all their watches had stopped when the shock of the wreck came, but presently the sun peeped out from the clouds, and, from knowing the time when they had begun to fall, they judged it was about ten o’clock, and accordingly set their timepieces.

“Well,” observed Tom, as he collected the dishes, which they had also secured from the wreck, “we must begin to think about a place to spend the night.  I think we can rig up a shelter from some of the canvas of the wing-planes, and from what is left of the cabin.  It doesn’t need to be very heavy, for from the warmth of the atmosphere, I should say we were pretty well south.”

It was quite warm, now that the storm was over, and, as they looked at the vegetation of the island, they saw that it was almost wholly tropical.

“I shouldn’t be surprised if we were on one of the smaller of the West Indian islands,” said Tom.  “We certainly came far enough, flying a hundred miles or more an hour, to have reached them.  But this one doesn’t appear to be inhabited.”