In the course of exploring my new surroundings, I found sources of food and water that would make my enforced stay on the island . . . should it become a long-term one . . . survivable. There were brooks of fresh water running throughout the island and, with storms such as the one that delivered me there, I should have scarcely been surprised. Mango trees, with its large juicy fruit, grew in abundance as did countless coconut trees and wild grape bushes. And, of course, there was seafood . . . if I could catch it.
I also had the seeds from the bananas and vegetables I had taken off The Sea Serpent. I had no idea where the seeds were hidden in a banana, but using the seeds from the peppers, potatoes, onions, and beans I could eventually grow a garden.
I decided to christen the island “Martindale Island” after the good captain Martindale, and I began to seriously consider my need for a dwelling that was more durable than the tent I now slept in.
First I search the inland area for a suitable piece of real estate on which to build my new home. I favored and later chose a plot of land that was about a hundred and fifty yards from the seashore. It was an elevated clearing . . . with one of the brooks running close by . . . and it seemed to be an ideal spot. I then pulled out some paper and an ink pen and did some architectural work. My new abode would be a one-room cottage . . . twenty-five feet long and twenty feet wide . . . with the source of lumber, nails, screws, doors, and windows being, of course, The Sea Serpent.
The building job took more than a month to complete and, when it was finished, my new cabin looked rather respectable. It was a sturdy little house that boasted a front porch, a wood floor, and windows. The backdoor was the two-piece “Dutch door” I had removed from the entrance of the ship’s galley, and the front porch roof was supported by vertical beams that were the exact distance apart as would perfectly support . . . a hammock.
To either side of the front and back doors I put in portholes . . . which gave the interior a nautical feel . . . and put square windows in the side walls. I brought the ship’s old cook stove in and set it up . . . flue pipes and all . . . on one side of the room. All in all, my new home was a most agreeable place to pass time until my rescuers . . . who-ever they might be . . . arrived.
But the poor Sea Serpent . . . shorn of her dignity . . . now sat embarrassed and ashamed, as I had taken away her source of pride.
In the course of building this bungalow . . . as I returned each night to my little canvas home . . . I noticed that the tree limbs I had hammered into the ground had begun to leaf. They had taken root. This told me that the island’s soil was indeed fertile, but the upshot of this discovery was that I now had the means to hide my new house. I didn’t know if there would ever be hostile visitors to the island, but it would be wise, I reasoned, to be prepared for just such a contingency. And so, while building the cottage, I took the time to plant a wide swath of tree limbs around my new homestead.
And they grew, which not only effectively camouflaged my residence, but also provided it with a shield of sorts against the onslaughts of hurricanes, which I would learn were a fairly regular occurrence on the island.