“O, Solitude, where are the charms
          That sages have seen in thy face? 
       Better dwell in the midst of alarms
          Than reign in this horrible place.”

Yet these words were accompanied and counterbalanced by the more pleasing and consoling sentiments of others, which on this day accorded better with Tom’s mood:—­

      “There’s mercy in every place;
          And mercy—­encouraging thought!—­
       Gives even affliction a grace,
          And reconciles man to his lot.”

Nothing occurred during the day to disturb the quiet of the island, and Tom went to bed early that night, so as to have a long sleep, and fortify himself for the labors of the morrow.  The ashes were raked carefully round the coals, which, when Tom waked in the morning, were easily kindled again.

He was up early on that Monday morning.  He saw, with deep disappointment, that the fog still covered every thing, and that the wind was blowing quite brisk from the south-west, and raising rather a heavy sea.  But he had a great deal to do now, and to this he turned his attention.

First of all, he had to finish his signal-staff and set it up.  He was very much troubled about the proper material for a flag.  The canvas was rather too heavy; but as he had nothing else, he had to take this.  He fastened a bit of the rope to the head of the staff, so as to form a loop, and through this he ran a piece which was long enough to serve for halyards.  Thus far he had not used up more than a quarter of the coil of rope; but he needed all that was left for other purposes.  The next thing was to set up his staff.  To do this required much labor.  He had already selected the place which seemed most suitable.  It was at the extreme point of a tongue of land which projected beside the brook, and only a little distance from his resting-place.  Here the ground was soft; and choosing a sharp stone, he worked diligently for about a couple of hours, until at length he succeeded in digging a hole which was about eighteen inches in depth.  Then he fastened ropes to the staff, where the pole joined it, so that four lines came down far enough to serve as stays.  Having done this, he inserted the end of the staff in the hole, and thrust in the earth all around it, trampling it in, and beating it down as tight as he could with a stone.  After this he procured some sticks from the drift-wood, and, sharpening the ends, he secured the stays by fastening them to these sticks, which he drove into the ground.  The staff then seemed to be as secure as was necessary.  It only remained now to hoist up his flag; and this he did without any difficulty, securing it at half mast, so that it might serve unmistakably as a signal of distress.

Upon completing this, Tom rested on the mound, and from that distance he contemplated the signal with a great deal of calm and quiet satisfaction.  It was his own device, and his own handiwork, and he was very proud of it.  But he did not allow himself a long rest.  There yet remained much to be done, and to this he now directed his attention.