preserved field-glasses corroborated the Captain's vision.

"For the love of Pete!" I gasped. "Take a squint at those trees." They
were literally crawling with nuts and tropical fruits of every
description. In the shadow of the broad panjandrus leaves we could see
whole loaves of breadfruits falling unassisted to the ground while
between the heavier thuds of cocoanuts and grapefruit we heard the
incessant patter of light showers of thousands of assorted nutlets,
singing the everlasting burden and refrain of these audible isles. It
was this predominant feature--though I anticipate our actual
decision--which ultimately settled our choice of a name for the new
archipelago,--the Filbert Islands, now famous wherever the names of
Whinney, Swank and Traprock are known.

It was now about half-past two bells and an excellent time to make a
landing, preparations for which were forthwith set in motion. Now, if
ever, we had occasion to bless the tightness of the Kawa, for
in the confusion below, somewhat ameliorated by the labors of William
Henry Thomas, we found most of our duffle in good order, an occasional
stethoscope broken or a cork loose, but nothing to amount to much. Our
rifles, side-arms, cartridges, camera and my bundles of rejected
manuscript were as dry as ever. I was thankful as I had counted on
writing on the other side of them. A tube of vermilion had run amuck
among Swank's underclothes but, in the main, we were intact.

After some delay in getting our folding-dory stretched on its frame,
due to Whinney's contention that the bow and stern sections belonged
on the same end, we finally shoved off, leaving William Henry Thomas
to answer the door in case of callers.