One afternoon, a week following the erection of the wireless station, Mate Fordam came upon a number of turtles.  He caught some, by turning them over on their backs, and also located a number of nests of eggs under the warm sands.

“This will be something to eat,” he said, joyfully, and indeed the turtles formed a welcome food supply.  Some fish were caught, and some clams were cast up by the tide, all of which eked out the scanty food supply that remained.  The two ladies suspected the truth now and they, too, cut down their allowance.

Tom, who had been sitting with the men in their sleeping shack, that evening, rose, as the hour of ten approached.  It was time to send out the last message of the night, and then he would lie down on an improvised couch, with the telephone receiver clamped to his ear, to wait, in the silence of the darkness, for the message saying that help was on the way.

“Well, are you off?” asked Mr. Damon, kindly.  “I wish some of us could relieve you, Tom.”

“Oh, I don’t mind it,” answered the lad “Perhaps the message may come to-night.”

Hardly had he spoken than there sounded the ominous rumble and shaking that presaged another earthquake.  The shack rocked, and threatened to come down about their heads.

“We must be doomed!” cried Mr. Parker.  “The island is about to sink!  Make for the raft!”

“Wait and see how bad it is,” counseled Mr. Hosbrook.  “It may be only a slight shock.”

Indeed, as he spoke, the trembling of the island ceased, and there was silence.  The two ladies, who had retired to their own private shack, ran out screaming, and Mr. Anderson and Mr. Nestor hastened over to be with their wives.

“I guess it’s passed over,” spoke Mr. Fenwick.

An instant later there came another tremor, but it was not like that of an earthquake shock.  It was more like the rumble and vibration of an approaching train.

“Look!” cried Tom, pointing to the left.  Their gaze went in that direction, and, under the light of a full moon they saw, sliding into the sea, a great portion of one of the rocky hills.

“A landslide!” cried Captain Mentor.  “The island is slowly breaking up.”

“It confirms my theory!” said Mr. Parker, almost in triumph.

“Forget your theory for a while, Parker, please,” begged Mr. Hosbrook.  “We’re lucky to have left a place on which to stand!  Oh, when will we be rescued?” he asked hopelessly.

The worst seemed to be over at least for the present, and, learning that the two ladies were quieted, Tom started up the hill to his wireless station.  Mr. Damon and Mr. Fenwick went with him, to aid in starting the motor and dynamo.  Then, after the message had been clicked out as usual Tom would begin his weary waiting.

They found that the earthquake shock had slightly disturbed the apparatus, and it took them half an hour to adjust it.  As there had been a delay on account of the landslide, it was eleven o’clock before Tom began sending out any flashes, and he kept it up until midnight.  But there came no replies, so he shut off the power, and prepared to get a little rest.