Moistened by the salt mist the trees did not wither, but grew
prodigiously. In all that expanse of turbulent sea--and only those who
have seen the North Sea in a storm know how turbulent it can be--there
was not a foot of ground on which the birds, storm-driven across the
water-waste, could rest in their flight. Hundreds of dead birds often
covered the surface of the sea. Then one day the trees had grown tall
enough to look over the sea, and, spent and driven, the first birds came
and rested in their leafy shelter. And others came and found protection,
and gave their gratitude vent in song. Within a few years so many birds
had discovered the trees in this new island home that they attracted the
attention not only of the native islanders but also of the people on the
shore five miles distant, and the island became famous as the home of
the rarest and most beautiful birds. So grateful were the birds for
their resting-place that they chose one end of the island as a special
spot for the laying of their eggs and the raising of their young, and
they fairly peopled it. It was not long before ornithologists from
various parts of the world came to "Eggland," as the farthermost point
of the island came to be known, to see the marvellous sight, not of
thousands but of hundreds of thousands of bird-eggs.

A pair of storm-driven nightingales had now found the island and mated
there; their wonderful notes thrilled even the souls of the natives; and
as dusk fell upon the seabound strip of land the women and children
would come to "the square" and listen to the evening notes of the birds
of golden song. The two nightingales soon grew into a colony, and within
a few years so rich was the island in its nightingales that over to the
Dutch coast and throughout the land and into other countries spread the
fame of "The Island of Nightingales."