"Yes, if all went well, the first native of Floreana would soon be born. When we left Europe in June, I was already expecting a child. My sister, whom I had left so abruptly in Cologne, impulsively rushed over to Amsterdam to see me off.

-- She was horrified at the idea that I was pregnant and would have to have my first baby on an uninhabited Pacific island with no doctor or midwife or drugs, not even a telephone. The new arrival was due somewhere round the end of December.

"There were a few things still left in the cave, I saw a crate, two crates. [ . ] The rickety table was still there. [ . ] I could not remember where I was, did not realize the house was twenty or thirty yards away from here. [ . ] There was a straw pallet on the ground. I nearly tripped over it. Straw… but I had a bed, a real bed. With white linen on it.

For a moment everything went black. My legs would not hold me any more, then all at once I felt as light as a feather. The straw. I let myself drop down on it, I felt the straw under me. I lay there. [ . ]

Then I heard a cry. It did not come from me. A short, shrill, squeaky, penetrating cry.

The cry did not come from me, nor from Heinz - it was the first cry of our new-born child. The child was there. I could not realize it, I was too weak, too helpless."

"For the first time I had a good look at our new islander. He had very fair hair and brown eyes. To judge from his crying his lungs were quite in order."

"Though almost drugged with pain, I could see one thing quite clearly: my life was in danger. The danger was growing every minute; something must be done about it, and at once. I could not do anything myself, nor could Heinz. Only a doctor could help in this. "Dr. Ritter", I muttered. "Get Dr. Ritter."