perils exist in the absolutely unexplored country that
surrounds us. Additional parties are to be sent out to explore the
island, especially the eastern section of it. There is no use mincing
matters. We are confronted by a very plain situation. It is possible,
even probable, that we are the first human beings ever to set foot on
this land. If that be true, we are now so far out of the path of the few
ships and steamers sailing these southern seas that there is small hope
or chance of a speedy rescue. As a matter of fact, it isn't likely that
we will be discovered until the island itself is discovered, if you see
what I mean.

"There isn't the slightest chance that the ship we're now standing on
will ever float again. Even if the engines could be put in order,--and
that is possible, I am told,--the vessel cannot be raised. If anybody
has been nursing that sort of hope, he may as well get rid of it.
It's no good. We are here to stay, unless help comes from the outside.
There's the plain English of it. We may have to live here on this
island, like poor old Robinson Crusoe, for years,--for a great many
years. I'm going to stop just a few seconds to let that soak into your
brains. We've got to face it. We've got to make the best of it. It is
not for Captain Trigger or me or any one else to say that we will not
be taken off this island some time--maybe sooner than we think. Whaling
vessels must visit these parts. That's neither here nor there. We've got
our work cut out for us, friends. We've got to think of the present and
let the future take care of itself. Now, here are the facts. We cannot
remain on board this wreck. We've got to go to work, every man, woman
and child of us. I don't know what can be cultivated on this island, but
we've got to find out, and when we find out we've got to begin raising
it. If we don't, my friends, we'll starve to death in a very short time.
And what's more, if we do not get out there and put up houses to live
in, we'll freeze to death when winter comes along.

"According to calculations, winter is still five or six months away. We
won't get it, I dare say, before next April or May. All you have to do
is to take a look at all these trees around here to realize that we are
a long way from the tropics. It gets as cold as blazes here in the dead
of winter, I can tell you that. We've got to build homes. We've got to
build a camp,--not a flimsy, half-way sort of camp, but a good, solid,
substan