Everything that is divisible is divided up even to the smallest amounts, so that one family’s share of rice, for example, may amount to no more than one spoonful! One single piece of soap has been known to be divided into eight pieces! Things which are obviously indivisible, such as stone jars, baskets, pots and pans, tins or sacks, are made up into little batches of as nearly as possible equal value and allotted by the system of saying “Whose?” In carrying this out one person points in turn to each batch, saying “Whose?” whilst another, blindfolded or with back turned, answers the name of one of the families. It is a very fair system. Supposing that there are only twelve lots and twenty families to draw, the caller shouts “Whose?” twenty times, occasionally indicating a blank by pointing at the ceiling or floor. No name, of course, is called twice. The women adhere very rigidly to this division of goods, even to the extent of quantities which are valueless. The men, on the other hand, occasionally decide to own things jointly, such as spars, chains, tools or implements, or where a thing is obviously of use to one man only—e.g. an empty cask—they will agree to take turns in acquiring it. Also, a man who is collecting wood for his house will be allowed to have for his own use one or more packing-cases on the understanding that he must compensate in one way or another later on. No written note is made, but they seem to have tenacious memories in this respect.
Again, in the case of an article which has been blown up on the island too heavy or bulky to be dealt with by the finder alone, such as a large tree or a stranded whale, those who help to bring it to the settlement participate equally in what profit may result from it.
This system was evolved by the patriarchs of the community, men such as Corporal Glass, the founder, and Pieter William Green, each of whom was for long the virtual head of the island. On the whole it is a very fair one, and even though it seems unjust that the large families should share equally with the small ones, it must be remembered that the small family, when it comes to its turn to find the goods for barter, has to bear an equal brunt with the larger. Children also are not regarded as a handicap, but as an asset, for from the time they are able to run about and drive sheep or geese they work for their living. In England one’s income does not vary with the number of children, and a bachelor employee receives the same wages as a married man if he does identical work.
On this particular occasion the work of dividing was going on merrily, and the young people and children were kept busy running to and from the houses with the shares. The missionary and his wife were acting as umpires at the “sheering” (they pronounced long “ā” as “ee”). When it was over I returned with Mr. and Mrs. Rogers to their house, and sat talking for a while. They brought their house with them from England, cut in sections all ready for putting up. It is small but snug. Their chief fear in connexion with it is that it may be lifted and carried away by some of the fiercer gusts of wind, and they were proposing to have it walled over with stone. They were very wise in bringing their own dwelling, for the housing problem is as difficult in Tristan da Cunha as it is in England in these post-war days. Whilst I was sitting and talking darkness set in. The wind outside was blowing hard, with sharp rain squalls. Mrs. Glass, accompanied by one of her family, thinking I might be lost, set out on a pilgrimage round the settlement in search of me, and was relieved when I was discovered to be all safe and sound. She said that getting about was awkward for a stranger, and thought I might have walked past the house (which is the lowest of the settlement) and fallen over the cliff. She said: “You stop now and finish your talk with the Missus, and I’ll tell Tom Rogers (who lived near by) to bring you down when you are ready.” The latter had supper with us. He is a pleasant, talkative fellow. Mrs. Glass says he will talk all day to anyone he can get to listen to him. “Usually,” she says, “grown-ups is too busy, so he has to talk to one of the children.”
In the course of conversation Tom Rogers said that he was going to the back of the island to “turn over” his cattle. By “turn over” he meant drive them from one pasturage to another. I asked if I might accompany him. He was willing, but thought that I might find it a bit far, as it entailed a considerable walk and a good deal of climbing. I smiled to myself, thinking that I could hold my own well enough with any islander, more especially as Gordon Glass, a slim-looking young fellow, was also to join the party. I was to have my eyes opened, however.
After Tom Rogers had gone “Wilet” and “Dōrothee” came in. Mrs. Glass went to the door and called into the darkness: “Come in, don’t be shoi; no one ain’t going to hurt you; come in, they’se both in!” Whereupon after a good deal more urging two very sheepish-looking youths entered, and planting themselves down on a form said no word at all but gazed across at the two girls. It seemed to me that I was very much de trop, and not wishing to be in any way a spoil-sport, I made some excuse to go out. It was not a pleasant night, being cold, and there was a slight drizzle. After about half an hour of stumbling blindly into every quagmire on the common, crossing the stream at its deepest and most slippery part, and causing all the dogs in the settlement to bark, I decided that I had been “sporting” enough and returned to find them in exactly the same attitude as I had left them. Later on, touching on the subject to Mrs. Glass, she remarked: “Oh, they’se been coming every night like that for years, but Mr. Glass he ain’t going to let none of the gels marry till they’se twenty-one.”
I had with me in my medical equipment a small bottle of essential oil of lavender, and with it I plentifully sprinkled my bedding in the hope that it would keep away the fleas. I believe they liked it, and the only result achieved was that I acquired a distaste for the smell of lavender which will probably last my lifetime! However, as a result of my exercise in climbing, I slept well.
In the morning at 8.0 a.m. Tom Rogers, Glass and I set off for the back of the island. The road, a mud track, ran westwards, and led across a deep gulch which had been cut some years previously by a torrent from the mountain. We had a stiff wind against us, which, in a narrow passage between a big bluff and the side of the mountain, blew in gusts, against which it was hard work to force a way and which occasionally drove us back a step or two. Behind the bluff were several pyramidal grass-covered mounds, in the shelter provided by which are the “potato-patches.” They consist of small walled-in areas, the walls serving to protect the plants from the force of the winds, which have a very deleterious effect upon the “tops.” This is amply demonstrated by comparing those in well-protected areas with those which are more exposed, the latter being stunted, dry and withered looking. The potatoes are planted in September and early October, and taken up in February. They are small in size, but otherwise of good quality. At the time of my visit (late May) the islanders were engaged in collecting seaweed from the shore and conveying it in bullock-carts to the patches, where it is allowed to rot, mixed with sheep manure, and placed on top of the potatoes when they are planted. The manure is obtained by corralling the sheep and leaving them closely penned in for twenty-four hours. We passed across several more gulches and encountered some broad patches of stone which had been swept down out of the hills during the rains.
The soil in this part of the island is better than that at the settlement, and provides a flat grassy plain, giving good grazing for the sheep and cattle which are dotted all about its surface and climb up into the lower slopes of the mountain. Both are small, but of fairly good quality, the meat which I tasted on the island being tender and of good flavour. A number of the cattle had calves, which were pretty little creatures.
On this part of the island the land ends in short cliffs, at the foot of which are numerous narrow beaches on which, as we went along, a heavy surf was breaking, looking pretty in the sunlight and having a pleasant sound.