The majority of them were white, but many showed signs of a coloured ancestry in a dusky complexion and features of a distinctly negroid type.
Their boats attracted our attention, for they are made of canvas over a framework of wood. These are ingenious pieces of work and built on very shapely lines. The canvas is begged from passing ships. The crosspieces are made from the branches of small, stunted apple trees which are grown on the island, but for the pieces which form the keel and the main part of the frame they are dependent on chance bits of driftwood thrown up on the beaches.
On this day there was a considerable swell running, which made it dangerous for more than one boat to come alongside at a time, the others lying off at a safe distance. It was apparent that the islanders did not care to submit their frail craft to any more bumping than was necessary. In their excitement they made a tremendous noise, shouting to each other in voices which were curiously thin and high-pitched.
As soon as the first boat came alongside a strong active man with a cheery face leapt on to our gunwale and clambered aboard. He told us his name was John Glass, and he seized those of us whom he could reach in turn by the hand, exclaiming in a piping voice that contrasted strangely with his powerful frame: “I’m glad to see you all. How are you? Have you had a good trip?” Another man, taller and more slimly built, quickly followed him and made his way to the bridge. He was wearing an old khaki overcoat, and was shod on one foot with a worn-out leather boot and on the other with a sort of moccasin made of cowskin. Several others came aboard and started at once to ask for things, saying: “Say, Mister, you ain’t got an old pair of boots, have you?” or “Mister, I’m building a boat—can you spare a few nails?” “Mister, can I have a piece of salt beef?”—always the prefix of “Mister,” said in a most ingratiating tone. The requests were made to anybody whom they encountered, no matter how busily engaged. When told to “Wait a little and we’ll see what can be done,” they would say, for example, “Well, my name’s Swaine—young Sam Swaine, son of old Sam Swaine. You won’t forget, will you?” Often two or three of them bombarded one man at the same time, when they raised their voices, both in volume and pitch. They made themselves such a general nuisance in this way and, together with those in the boats, who kept calling continually to those aboard, raised such a pandemonium that Commander Wild approached John Glass and asked him if there was a “head-man” of the island or recognized representative of the community.
John Glass promptly replied, “I am!” but continued in the same breath, “There ain’t no head-man now. Bob Glass, my brother—that’s him on the bridge—he’s head-man. Anyways, he’s the best one for you to talk to. He’s got the larnin’!” Having “got the larnin’” meant that he could read and write.
Bob Glass was told to remain on the ship. The rest were packed off into their boats and sent ashore to await the blowing of the steam whistle as a signal for their return. Glass, the tall, slim man who had made for the bridge, proved to be an intelligent fellow. We asked him to have breakfast with us. He accepted the invitation without embarrassment, and showed himself much more at ease than one would have expected from anyone living in so remote a part of the world.
From him Commander Wild learnt that there had been only one ship to the island in the last eighteen months—a Japanese steamer, which had brought a missionary and his wife, but which had immediately proceeded without letting them have supplies of any kind. Glass had made his way to the captain in the hope that an explanation of their needs and of their peculiar situation might induce him to allow them some stores, but he was promptly ordered off the ship. The captain, relenting a little at the last moment, gave him as a personal present a bundle of coloured postcards, all of them with the same picture—a very highly coloured impressionistic view of Fuji-yama, the sacred mountain of Japan! They had received quite a considerable mail from people in the outside world who took an interest in this isolated community, but, as Glass remarked contemptuously, “Chiefly clothes for the womenfolk.” The missionary had brought some supplies, but, according to our informant, hardly enough for himself and his wife. The people were at the present time very badly off and were, indeed, destitute of what elsewhere might well be considered absolute essentials, such as articles of clothing, cooking and table utensils, wood, canvas for the upkeep of their boats, nails, tools, rope, wire, etc. For a long time they had been without luxuries in the way of food, such as tea, sugar, flour or biscuit, and commodities such as soap, candles, etc.
In the old days, said Glass, the settlement had been much better off, for ships had appeared within reach of their boats many times a year, and with them they had bartered live stock and potatoes, produced on the island, for what they themselves required in the way of general commodities. Nowadays, ships seemed to have entirely left the ocean, and they were in a bad way.
He and his brother, John Glass, are direct descendants of Corporal William Glass, who founded the settlement. He accounted for his “larnin’” and general knowledge of conditions by the fact that he had been away from the island for eighteen years, had apparently travelled a good deal on one job and another, and mixed with people. During the South African war he had served with Kitchener’s Scouts, and had received the Queen’s medal. We gathered that he was not lacking in common sense and had a pretty shrewd knowledge of the value of things.
Of the truth of his statements with regard to the condition of the community there could be little doubt, and a visit to the settlement made later in the day showed that he had not exaggerated. They made an earnest appeal to us for help, and Commander Wild decided to do all that was in his power to alleviate their hardships.