The island was a mass of black rocks, torn by volcanic violence, and wore an aspect of wild and sterile desolation. Selecting a small green spot where fresh water was found, they made it a temporary residence, and built with the wood recovered from the wreck and some sods, a small hut, which sheltered them in a measure from the bitter wind and frost. A few sperm candles and some blankets, washed from the wreck, were all that could be found to reward their anxious exertions. No provisions of any kind could be picked up; but at length, when forced by hunger, they killed some young albatrosses and fed sparingly on the raw flesh. The candles in this extremity became savoury morsels and were devoured with considerable relish. As they were without fire, or the means of procuring any to assuage the bitterness of their distress, they determined, on the seventh day of their deliverance, to explore the island and see what Providence might turn up to their hopes. Two of the men, from being frostbitten and cut in the feet, were unable to walk. The remaining nine, therefore, started, leaving a stock of raw meat with the two sick sappers, who laid themselves down on the cold ground only to feel the increase of pangs which the presence even of a spark of fire would have helped to soften. Without a cheering ray to palliate their wretchedness, with the nipping frost gnawing their reeking wounds, they gave themselves up to the destiny which seemed to await them. Hourly the toils and miseries of the adventurers increased. After travelling all day, sometimes over high hills covered with sharp vitrified cinders, sometimes on marshy ground up to their hips in bog, they stopped for the night by the side of a frowning rock. The rain poured in torrents; shelter could not be found; no expedient for kindling a flame succeeded; and in this deplorable condition they sat down on the charred ground, huddled together to preserve some little warmth among them, exposed throughout the night to the drenching storm, covered only by their blankets.