A very interesting thing to read about, no doubt; and Tom, like all boys, had revelled in the portrayals of such a situation which he had encountered in his reading.  No one had entered with more zest than he into the pages of Robinson Crusoe, and no one had enjoyed more than he the talks which boys love to have about their possible doings under such circumstances.  But now, to be here, and find himself in such a place,—­to be brought face to face with the hard, stern, dismal fact,—­was another thing altogether.  What oppressed him most was not the hardships of his position.  These he could have withstood if there had been nothing worse.  The worst part of his present life was its solitude.  If Bart had been here with him, or Bruce, or Arthur, or Phil, or Pat, how different it would have been!  Even old Solomon would have enabled him to pass the time contentedly.  But to be alone,—­all alone,—­without a soul to speak to,—­that was terrible.

Tom soon found that the very way to deepen his misery was to sit still and brood over it.  He was not inclined to give way to trouble.  It has already been seen that he was a boy of obstinate courage, resolute will, and invincible determination.  He was capable of struggling to the last against any adversity; and even if he had to lose, he knew how to lose without sinking into complete despair.  These moods of depression, or even of despair, which now and then did come, were not permanent.  In time he shook them off, and looked about for some new way of carrying on the struggle with evil fortune.

So now he shook off this fit of depression, and starting up he determined not to sit idle any longer.

“I won’t stand it,” he muttered.  “There’s lots of things to be seen, and to be done.  And first of all I’ve got to explore this island.  Come, Tom, my boy; cheer up, old fellow.  You’ve pretended to admire Robinson Crusoe; act up to your profession.  And first of all, my boy, you’ve got to explore Juan Fernandez.”

The sound of his own voice had the effect of encouraging and inspiriting him, while the purpose which he thus assigned to himself was sufficient to awaken his prostrated energies.  There was something in the plan which roused all his curiosity, and turned his thoughts and feelings into a totally new direction.  No sooner, then, had this thought occurred to him, than he at once set out to put it into execution.

First of all he took one parting look at the scene around him.  The sun had now passed its meridian, and it seemed to be one o’clock or after.  The tide was high.  The boat, which had at first floated, was now nearly full of water.  Tom threw a melancholy glance at this fresh proof of the utter futility of all his labor, and then examined the fastenings, so that it might not drift away during his absence.  Then he searched among the drift-wood until he found a stout stick to assist him in climbing, and to serve as a companion in his walk, after which he started.