Three years in Tristan da Cunha

by Katherine Mary Barrow

Graham has at last had his heart's desire, namely, to ascend the Peak. He and Mr. Keytel with five of the islanders started off early this morning. At seven we could see them on the sky-line of the mountain above the settlement. They got back about six this evening. I am thankful I did not go, for they say it was a tremendous climb, and the last part, over a lava-covered surface, the hardest bit of all. I give a description of the expedition in his own words—

"Mr. Keytel and I had as guides or companions old Sam Swain, Andrew Swain, Tom Rogers, Repetto and young Sam Swain. We started at 5.30 a.m. and in an hour and a half were 2,000 feet up, on the top of what the islanders call the base of the mountain. With the exception of a mile and a half at the end the climbing was now done, and the rest of the way little more than walking up-hill. The first mile from the edge of the base was fairly flat, but over spongy ground thickly studded with stout ferns which came up above our knees. Then we got on to a grassy slope, and from that descended into a gulch, up which we went for about a mile. Getting out of this we next trudged over grassy slopes on which were growing fine specimens of the crowberry. This kind of ground lasted to within a mile and a half of the summit, but the grass became scarcer, and was in patches only. Then all vegetation ceased, I did not notice even moss, and the ascent became much steeper, about as steep as from St. Ann's Well to the top of the Worcestershire Beacon. But the going was much harder because the ground offered no sure foothold, consisting as it did of loose burnt stones and earth which let you down one step for every two taken. Our Cape visitor in the gulch had felt that he could not lift his foot for another step; he kept on, however, right to the top, and I began to feel the same. Although in no sense done up, I found this last bit harder work than all the rest of the way put together. The men felt it too. The end, though, came at last, and we proudly stood on the rim of the crater. It was soon evident to us, however, that we were not on the highest point. That was on the part of the rim opposite to us, and in between was the bottom of the crater. Lying in this bottom was a small lake, perhaps eighty yards by sixty. We made our way down to it and half-way round it, and then sat down to lunch. We found the crater water quite drinkable. After lunch I had a swim in the lake, whereupon Mr. Keytel promptly brought his camera into action. He took many other photographs. Then we set our eyes upon that highest bit of rim and doggedly making for it were soon shouting and waving our caps on the top. It was now twenty minutes past one. At a quarter to three we began to return, and were home by twenty-five minutes past six. The day for the climb and the view was a perfect one."

To-morrow the schooner leaves and with it goes our touch with the outside world. With what it has left behind we shall have enough to occupy us for many a day. We have become quite fond of the little brown puppy, which we have named Jock. It is very teachable, and is immensely interested in the cattle that pass, barking with great energy at them.

Wednesday, March 13.—Mr. Keytel intended leaving to-day but the Greyhound has not made its appearance; it is thought it is becalmed. All the better for our letters. This morning Mr. Keytel photographed a group of all the islanders, then the women only, and afterwards the men. The photographs were taken on the common just outside our house.

Thursday, March 14.—Such a large ship is passing and the men, I think, would go out to it were they not waiting to go out to the schooner, which is now in front of the settlement.

[Illustration: COMPLETE GROUP OF THE ISLANDERS]

Tuesday, March 19.—The Greyhound after all did not leave last week; the sea was too rough for the boats to go out. It did not get off till yesterday, due partly to the caution of the captain who would keep away from land and partly to the weather. We two sent off about one hundred and twenty letters. The captain wanted to see Graham to show him how to read a barometer sent by the Cape Meteorological Commission. I thought I would go too and take Ellen. We had no sooner put out to sea than we realized it was going to be much rougher than we anticipated, and, the Greyhound standing out after the cautious manner of her captain, we had some distance to go. Mr. Keytel was out fishing and was to follow. We all kept well till we got to the ship. Clambering up the rope ladder we were soon on board and being greeted by such a kind old captain. He was seventy-four years old with snow-white hair and had only one eye. Graham soon sank into a chair and was quite past reading barometers or anything else. He could just assent to remarks made to him by the captain and that was all. Ellen was in no better plight and sat on a bench near me, and I cannot say I felt cheerful, for the schooner, which was empty and had not much ballast, was rolling considerably. I carried on various conversations and strained my eyes to see if Mr. Keytel's boat was coming. It was a long wait, and when at last he did get on board he had gifts to bestow upon the men before we could get off. How thankful we were when that moment came; even then there were many adieux to be said. I was thankful to see that Graham and Ellen were capable of descending the ladder. The wind was rising and the sea sweeping in from the west. But I felt complete confidence in the men, they are such good seamen and so thoroughly understand their boats and what they are capable of. The two boats began to race, and we simply flew through the water. It was splendid. We soon gained the shore, and it was with no little satisfaction we saw ourselves at home. Then we retired to our beds, Graham not to appear again until next day, for he had a racking headache. After lunch Ellen and I tried to tidy the sitting-room, which was strewn with packages.

To-day has been entirely taken up with the distribution of goods amongst the people. The boxes had first to be sorted out; one had no name on, and one of the crockery cases could not at first be found, having been addressed differently to the other Government cases. These crockery cases took some time to unpack. The contents made a grand show laid out in Bob Green's house. They were—

1 dozen brown earthenware teapots. 5 dozen plates. 5 dozen soup-plates. Vegetable dishes. 6 dozen cups and saucers. 1 dozen flowered bowls and covers. 2 dozen tumblers. 5 dozen egg-cups. 8 saucepans. Pails and other useful things; it is a most useful gift.

I must now describe the people's way of dividing these goods, which is their usual method of distribution. When an equal number of each set had been given round to every family, and there were some over but not enough to go round again, they put these with those things of which there were not enough to go round, such as the teapots, saucepans and pails. Then they arranged these in seventeen lots on the floor, taking care to make each lot, as far as was possible, of the same value. The number seventeen was chosen because there are seventeen families. One man now turned his back, generally looking out at the door; another standing over the things pointed with his finger to one of the lots and said "That." The man whose back was turned called out in answer the name of the woman of a family, till each family had had a turn. The people stood or sat round. They have apparently worked this method out for themselves and find it creates less feeling than any other. This took all the morning.