CHAPTER XV

THE OTHER CASTAWAYS

“Well, we’re all alive, at any rate,” announced Tom, when the bright sun, shining into his eyes, had awakened him.  He sat up, tossed aside his blankets, and stood up.  The day was a fine one, and the violence of the sea had greatly subsided during the night, their shack had suffered not at all from the slight shock in the darkness.

“Now for a dip in old Briney,” the lad added, as he walked down to the surf, “I think it will make me feel better.”

“I’m with you,” added Mr. Fenwick, and Mr. Damon also joined the bathers.  They came up from the waves, tingling with health, and their bruises and bumps, including Tom’s cut leg, felt much better.

“You did get quite a gash; didn’t you,” observed Mr. Fenwick, as he noticed Tom’s leg.  “Better put something on it.  I have antiseptic dressings and bandages in the airship, if we can find them.”

“I’ll look for them, after breakfast,” Tom promised, and following a fairly substantial meal, considering the exigencies under which it was prepared, he got out the medicine chest, of which part remained in the wreck of the whizzer, and dressed his wound.  He felt much better after that.

“Well, what’s our program for to-day?” Mr. Damon wanted to know, as they sat about, after they had washed up what few dishes they used.

“Let’s make a better house to stay in,” proposed Mr. Fenwick.  “We may have to remain here for some time, and I’d like a more substantial residence.”

“I think the one we now have will do,” suggested Tom.  “I was going to propose making it even less substantial.”

“Why so?”

“Because, in the event of an earthquake, while we are sleeping in it, we will not be injured.  Made of light pieces of wood and canvas it can’t harm us very much if it falls on us.”

“That’s right,” agreed Mr. Damon.  “In earthquake countries all the houses are low, and built of light materials.”

“Ha!  So I recollect now,” spoke Mr. Fenwick.  “I used to read that in my geography, but I never thought it would apply to me.  But do you think we will be subject to the quakes?”

“I’m afraid so,” was Tom’s reply.  “We’ve had two, now, within a short time, and there is no way of telling when the next will come.  We will hope there won’t be any more, but—­”

He did not finish his sentence, but the others knew what he meant.  Thereupon they fell to work, and soon had made a shelter that, while very light and frail, would afford them all the protection needed in that mild climate, and, at the same time, there would be no danger should an earthquake collapse it, and bring it down about their heads while they were sleeping in it.

For they decided that they needed some shelter from the night dews, as it was exceedingly uncomfortable to rest on the sands even wrapped in blankets, and with a driftwood fire burning nearby.