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Three Years in Tristan da Cunha

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[Illustration: THE SETTLEMENT]


THREE YEARS IN TRISTAN DA CUNHA

BY

K. M. BARROW
Wife of the Rev. J. G. Barrow, Missionary Clergyman in Tristan Da Cunha
and fellow-worker with him on that island.


With thirty-seven original illustrations from photographs, and a map.


TO THE READER

The aim of the following pages is to give a simple and true description of
daily life among a very small community cut off from the rest of the
world.

No attempt is made at literary style, the language being almost entirely
that of letters to a sister or of my journal.

In the first and third chapters free use has been made of the _Blue Book_
(Cd. 3098), September 1906; and of the _Africa Pilot_, Part II, Fifth
Edition, 1901.

I desire gratefully to acknowledge to Mr. Casper Keytel of Monille Point,
Cape Town, his very kind permission to use the excellent photographs taken
by him; and also my indebtedness to my husband for help in the revision of
these pages.

K. M. B.

1910


MAP OF THE ISLAND OF TRISTAN DE CUNHA [* OCR image only shows title]


CONTENTS

AUTHOR'S PREFACE
MAP OF ISLAND OF TRISTAN DA CUNHA
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XX
CHAPTER XXI
CHAPTER XXII
CHAPTER XXIII
CHAPTER XXIV
CHAPTER XXV
CHAPTER XXVI
CHAPTER XXVII
CHAPTER XXVIII
CHAPTER XXIX
CHAPTER XXX
CHAPTER XXXI
CHAPTER XXXII
CHAPTER XXXIII
CHAPTER XXXIV
CHAPTER XXXV
CHAPTER XXXVI
CHAPTER XXXVII

APPENDICES
A. THE FAUNA AND FLORA OF TRISTAN
B. THE WEATHER
C. SOME TRISTAN WORDS


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

I THE SETTLEMENT [_Frontispiece_]
II THE PEAK SHOWING ABOVE CLOUDS
III BETTY COTTON'S HOUSE (FRONT), OUR NEW HOME
IV BETTY COTTON'S HOUSE (BACK)
V THE WATERFALL
VI MOCCASINS
VII THE CEMETERY
VIII HILL TOP. INACCESSIBLE IN THE DISTANCE
IX THE FLAGSTAFF
X GOING WEST
XI IN SCHOOL
XII BIG BEACH
XIII THE HENRY GREEN FAMILY AT WORK ON A POTATO PATCH
XIV A PAIR OF PENGUINS
XV EARLY MORNING FROM THE WEST, SHOWING SNOW IN CREVASSE, NEAR PEAK
XVI BUGSBY HOLE
XVII THE CRATER LAKE
XVIII ON THE SUMMIT OF THE PEAK
XIX COMPLETE GROUP OF THE ISLANDERS
XX A GROUP OF ALL THE MEN
XXI THE PATH OF PLANTATION GULCH
XXII CATTLE, NEAR POTATO PATCHES
XXIII A PENGUIN ROOKERY
XXIV SHEEP BEING DRIVEN HOME
XXV OUR BATHING PLACE (LITTLE BEACH)
XXVI THE OLD CHURCH HOUSE
XXVII LANDING GOODS
XXVIII MRS. REPETTO FISHING
XXIX MR. KEYTEL'S HOUSE
XXX FRESHWATER CAVE
XXXI MOLLYHAWK ON ITS NEST
XXXII NEARLY FINISHED
XXXIII THE KETCH
XXXIV FISH-CLEANING
XXXV HOTTENTOT GULCH
XXXVI ALL THE WOMEN AND CHILDREN
XXXVII ORANGES AND LEMONS




THREE YEARS IN TRISTAN DA CUNHA



CHAPTER I


Tristan da Cunha, a British possession, is an island-mountain of volcanic
origin in the South Atlantic ocean. Latitude 37° 5' 50" S.; longitude 12°
16' 40" W. Circular in form. Circumference about 21 miles. Diameter about
7 miles. Height 7,640 feet. Volcano extinct during historic times.
Discovered by the Portuguese navigator Tristan da Cunha, 1506. Occupied by
the British, 1816. Nearest inhabited land, the island of St. Helena, 1,200
miles to the N.

In the autumn of 1904 we saw in the _Standard_ a letter which arrested our
attention. It was an appeal for some one to go to the Island of Tristan da
Cunha, as the people had had no clergyman for seventeen years.

Now, Tristan da Cunha was not an unknown name to us, for as a child my
husband loved to hear his mother tell of her shipwreck on Inaccessible, an
uninhabited island twenty-five miles south-west of Tristan da Cunha.

She, then a child of four, and her nurse were passengers on the _Blendon
Hall_, which left London for India in May 1821, and was wrecked during a
dense fog on Inaccessible, July 23. The passengers and crew drifted ashore
on spars and fragments of the vessel. Two of the crew perished, and nearly
all the stores were lost. For four months they lived on this desolate
island. A tent made out of sails was erected on the shore to protect the
women and children from the cold and rain. They lived almost entirely on
the eggs of sea-birds.

After waiting some time in hope of being seen by a ship, they made a raft
from the remains of the wreck, and eight of the crew set off in it to try
to reach Tristan, but were never heard of again, poor fellows. A few weeks
later a second and successful attempt was made. The men reached Tristan,
but in a very exhausted state. Then the Tristanites, led by Corporal
Glass, manned their boats, and at great personal risk succeeded in
fetching off the rest of the crew and passengers, who remained on Tristan
till January 9, 1822, on which day a passing English brig took them to the
Cape of Good Hope.

This was eighty-four years ago. And now the son of that little shipwrecked
girl was seriously thinking of going out to minister to the children of
her rescuers. Here I may mention that in the whole of their history, from
1816 to 1906, they had had only two clergymen living amongst them.

The first to go out was the Rev. W. F. Taylor, under the S.P.G. in 1851, a
young London warehouseman who had not long been ordained. It is related by
one of the passengers of the ship in which Mr. Taylor was sailing that the
master of the vessel had great difficulty in locating the island, and that
for three days they cruised about and saw nothing resembling land. The
third day towards evening the skipper gave up the search and headed for
the Cape. Mr. Taylor, who was gazing towards the setting sun suddenly saw
the Peak of Tristan, which is 7,640 feet high, emerge out of the clouds.
It was about ninety miles away. The captain turned back, and his passenger
was safely landed. Mr. Taylor stayed there some five years. On his
departure he induced about forty-five of the islanders to accompany him to
Cape Colony, where they settled down.

The second clergyman, also in connection with the S.P.G., was the Rev. E.
H. Dodgson, a brother of "Lewis Carroll." He arrived in December 1880 from
St. Helena, and landed in safety, but the ship was driven ashore and he
lost nearly all his clothing and books. One of the very few things washed
ashore was a small stone font, which, curiously enough, was undamaged.

In December 1884 Mr. Dodgson, who was much out of health, got a passage to
the Cape in a man-of-war. It was not his intention to return. But the next
year a great calamity befell the Tristanites. Fifteen of their men put off
in a new lifeboat to a ship, and were all drowned. Out of a population of
ninety-two there were now only four male adults, and one of these was out
of his mind and giving a good deal of trouble. Tristan had suddenly become
an island of widows and children. When Mr. Dodgson heard of this calamity
he at once offered to return. It being thought that the islanders were on
the brink of starvation, H.M.S. _Thalia_ was sent to their relief, and Mr.
Dodgson sailed in her, reaching Tristan in August 1886. He remained till
December 1889, when ill health again obliged him to leave. This time ten
of the inhabitants left with him.

To go back to the period when we ourselves began to think of going out.
After some months of serious consideration we resolved to make the
attempt, and at once began to face the question of how to get there. To
get to Tristan da Cunha is no easy matter; it took us nearly five months.
There is no regular communication with it, and it has no harbour.

Formerly a man-of-war from the Cape station visited it once a year, but
since the South African War this annual visit has been discontinued. Mr.
Dodgson advised us to go to St. Helena and there await a whaler. He had
found this the best plan. So accordingly we set off from Southampton on
November 18, 1905--my husband, our maid and myself, taking with us a
year's food supply and a very limited amount of furniture. St. Helena was
reached in seventeen days. An interview with the American Consul, who was
courtesy itself, convinced us there was no likelihood of getting a
passage. The whalers that called there were from New Bedford in America,
and none were expected. Our visit, however, was not entirely in vain,
because we had the advantage of meeting the Bishop of St. Helena, who
showed us much kindness, and of talking over our plans with him. The
diocese of St. Helena must be unique. It consists of the three islands,
St. Helena, Ascension, and Tristan da Cunha. There is no clergyman on the
two last, and only the bishop and three clergymen on St. Helena. No bishop
of St. Helena has as yet landed upon Tristan da Cunha.

We decided to go on to Cape Town by the next steamer, which port we
reached early in January, knowing no one beyond a few fellow-passengers.
Not wishing to go to an hotel we took some rooms of which we heard from
the chaplain of the Seamen's Mission. For the next few weeks my husband
spent his time visiting the different shipping agencies and the docks, but
to no purpose, as no ship would call at Tristan. We even cabled to a
company in England; "No" met our every inquiry. February had now set in,
and we thought that the best thing to do was to take a small unfurnished
house and wait in hope that a man-of-war would be visiting the island at
the end of the year. We had been about a month in this house when news
came from my sister-in-law in England that the very company to which we
had cabled and which had a monthly service between Table Bay and the River
Plate was ready to take us for a named sum, but only on the understanding
that should the weather be too rough to land us on Tristan we should have
to go on to Buenos Ayres. In spite of the uncertainty involved it seemed
right to accept this offer. We embarked on the steamer _Surrey_ on March
31, but did not start till next day, Sunday, as some repairs had to be
done to one of the engines. There went with us Tom Rogers, a Tristanite,
who was glad of the opportunity of returning to his island home.

During our stay at Cape Town we had made many kind friends. Among them
were Mr. Beverley, the rector of Holy Trinity Church, and Mrs. Beverley.
They had helped us in looking for a house, helped in shopping, helped in
packing, insisted on our taking our last meal with them, and came with us
to the steamer. We found the steamer very crowded, the passengers quite
outnumbering the berths, and it was not until evening that we could
procure a cabin. But one thing I much appreciated: our collie was allowed
to be with us during the day. We had only had him a few days, but he
behaved excellently, lying at our feet most of the time. He came to us as
"Whisky," but was promptly re-named "Rob."

[Illustration: THE PEAK SHOWING ABOVE CLOUDS]



CHAPTER II


On the early morning of the eighth day--it was Palm Sunday--the
mountainous cliffs of Tristan could dimly be discerned. My husband had
gone up on deck two or three times while it was yet dusk to see if land
was visible; while I kept looking out of the porthole, although it was not
a very large outlook. At about four o'clock he dressed and wrote several
letters. At six o'clock, accompanied by Rob, I went on to the lower deck
and could see Tristan enshrouded in mist. At about nine o'clock we arrived
opposite the settlement. A high wind was blowing and the sea was rough.
But this did not prevent the islanders setting off in two of their canvas
boats to board the steamer. It was with great interest I went on deck to
speak to them. I was greeted by an Italian, who in broken English said--

"It not very comfortable for a lady."

They said it was too rough for us to land at the settlement, but that if
we went back eight or nine miles round to another part of the island
landing would be possible. It did not take long to steam back, but it took
many hours to land the luggage. This was done under the direction of the
third officer by a ship's boat manned by several passengers, who were most
keen to help, and by the two island boats. But it was done under
considerable difficulty, "a dangerous swell running on to a steep pebbly
beach." Twice the ship's boat filled with water, and once a man was washed
overboard, but was hauled in again. The harmonium was floating in the sea,
but being in a zinc-lined case took no harm. By the afternoon the sea had
quieted down a little, and it was decided that it would be safe for us to
land at the settlement. Personally I was rather disappointed at this
decision; but it gave, we believe, much satisfaction to the captain, who
did not seem at all to like the idea of landing us on the sea-shore, where
we should certainly have had to spend one night, and might have had to
spend several. We steamed to within three-quarters of a mile of the
settlement, and between three and four o'clock all was in readiness for us
to leave the steamer. Farewells were said, and then we descended to the
lower deck, which was crowded with people. One island boat had already
left. The other had been hauled on to the ship, and it was thought best
that we should get into it and then be lowered. As they began to lift the
boat there was an ominous crack, which caused the chief officer to tell us
to get out, which we quickly did. The boat was then lowered into the sea.
One by one we made the descent of about forty feet down the ship's side on
a swinging rope ladder, holding a rope in each hand, and having one round
our waist, and with an officer going in front of us. We had to wait for
the right moment to jump into the boat which was rising and falling with
the waves. The collie came last; it seemed an interminable time before he
appeared. He was roped, and struggling as for his life; he managed to
clamber back to the deck, but was pushed off again, and at last reached us
in a most terrified condition, and trembling violently. It was really hard
work to hold him in the boat. We were now ready to pull off. Farewells
were waved and cheers given, and I think the last strains we heard were
"For he's a jolly good fellow." It was not easy getting away from the
ship, and it looked rather alarming as we descended and mounted with the
waves. The spray kept dashing over us, and I felt it running down my neck,
but before long we got into quieter water. The steamer stood by until
we were out of danger, and then we saw it steaming away with the
fellow-passengers who had been so kind to us. Now, indeed, we felt we were
leaving the world behind us. But we could see quite a crowd awaiting us on
the shore and others running down the steep cliff to the beach. We were
not allowed to land until the boat was drawn up on the shingle. There we
found nearly all the colony and a swarm of dogs. We struggled up the bank
of shingle over wet seaweed, and went round and shook hands with the
elders. Seeing we had no hats, and the veils which we were wearing in
their place were wet through, two of the younger women came forward and
offered Ellen and myself a coloured handkerchief to tie over our heads,
and, I think, tied them on. We were much touched by this kind attention
and the welcome it conveyed.

When the boat had been drawn up to its place we sang the doxology,
lingered a little, and then, conducted by the inhabitants, filed up the
steep rocky road to the top of the cliff and on to the grassy common. The
scenery was very fine, towering mountains in the background, the
settlement below with its quaint little stone, thatched houses, and the
sea with its white-crested waves. We were taken to Betty Cotton's house,
the first to be reached. She was there to give us a welcome. We had to
bend our heads as we entered the porch, but to our surprise were led into
quite a spacious room with two windows.

[Illustration: BETTY COTTON'S HOUSE (FRONT), OUR NEW HOME]

[Illustration: BETTY COTTON'S HOUSE (BACK)]

A large number followed us in. I felt a little shy, so many eyes were upon
us, and all the conversation had to emanate from us. After a time there
was a movement: the men in whose boat we had come went off to change their
wet clothes.

Betty, who was seventy-six and very active, began to prepare the table for
tea, and I must say the prospect of tea was most welcome. There were
spectators of that meal and of many ensuing ones. Later on our friends
came to see us again, and the room was packed all round. I could hear much
whispering among the women in the passages: no doubt anxious discussion
was going on as to our sleeping accommodation. Betty decided to sleep out;
Mr. Dodgson's room was assigned to us, and the adjoining room which had no
window and was more like a cupboard, to Ellen.

My husband had some talk with the people, telling them what had drawn him
to Tristan and of his mother's shipwreck, and then closed with a few
verses from the Bible and prayer. We were tired after our day of
adventures, and thankful to retire to rest.



CHAPTER III


We woke up next morning realizing that we were at last, after more than a
year of anticipation and months of travel, amongst the settlers on Tristan
da Cunha.

The present settlement dates from 1816, when a garrison was sent by the
Cape Government to occupy the island, as it was thought that Tristan might
be used as a base by Napoleon's friends to effect his escape from St.
Helena. In February 1817 the British Government determined to withdraw the
garrison, and a man-of-war was dispatched to remove it. Three of the men
asked to remain, the chief being William Glass of Kelso, N.B., a corporal
in the Royal Artillery, who had with him his wife--a Cape coloured woman--
and his two children. Later, others came to settle on the island, three by
shipwreck; and some left it; the inhabitants in 1826 being seven men, two
wives and two children.

Five of these men, who were bachelors, asked the captain of a whaler to
bring them each a wife from St. Helena. He did his best and brought five
coloured women--one a widow with four children. Of these marriages only
one, I believe, turned out happily. A daughter of this marriage was Betty
Cotton, our landlady. She was the eldest of seven daughters, and had five
brothers. Her father, Alexander Cotton, was born at Hull, and was an old
man-of-war's man, and for three years had guarded Napoleon at Longwood,
St. Helena. Thomas Hill Swain, another of the five, came from Sussex and
served in the _Theseus_ under Nelson. He married the widow, and used to
tell his children, of whom there were four daughters living on the island
when we were there, that he was the sailor who caught Nelson when he fell
at Trafalgar. This old man was vigorous to the last. At the age of one
hundred and eight he was chopping wood, when a splinter flying into his
eye caused his death. The result, of course, of these marriages was a
coloured race. Some of the children are still very dark in appearance, but
the colour is gradually dying out.

Another well-known islander, Peter William Green, came nearly twenty years
later. He was a Dutch sailor, a native of Katwijk, on the North Sea, whose
ship in trying to steal the islanders' sea elephant oil got in too close
and was wrecked. He settled down and married one of the four daughters of
the widow, and became eventually headman and marriage officer. Queen
Victoria sent him a framed picture of herself, which, unfortunately, has
been taken away to the Cape. He died in 1902 at the age of ninety-four.

In the next decade came Rogers and Hagan from America; and in the early
nineties the two Italian sailors Repetto and Lavarello of Comogli, who
were shipwrecked.

I believe the population has never numbered more than one hundred and
nine. At the time of our arrival it was seventy-one, of whom only ten had
ever been away from the island. The language spoken is English, but their
vocabulary is limited.

The soldiers pitched their camp at the north end of a strip of land
stretching about six miles in a north-westerly direction, where it is
crossed by a constant stream of the purest and softest water. It is said
they built two forts, one commanding Big Beach and Little Beach Bays, and
one further inland to command what was thought the only approachable
ascent to the mountain heights. The position of the first fort is known,
the raised ground for mounting two guns being distinctly visible on the
top of Little Beach Point; but the islanders do not think the second fort
was ever built.

The settlers naturally chose this camp as the site for their settlement,
and there they built their houses. When we arrived there were sixteen,
three of which were uninhabited. They all face the sea; and run east and
west. On account of the very high winds the walls are built about four
feet thick at the gable ends, and about two feet at the sides. Most of the
stone they are built of is porous, in consequence of which the walls on
the south side are very damp and are often covered on the inside with a
green slime. The houses are thatched with a reed-like grass called
tussock, which is grown in the gardens or on a piece of ground near. The
thatch will last from ten to fifteen years, that on the sunny side lasting
considerably the longer. Turf is used to cover the ridge of the roof, but
this is not altogether satisfactory as the soil works through, and when
there is a gale the rooms below are thick with dust. Perhaps the dust is
also caused by the innumerable wood-lice which work in the wood and make a
fine wood-dust. Every house has a loft running the whole length of it. We
found ours the greatest boon as it was the only place we had in which to
keep the year's stores. The woodwork of nearly all the houses is from
wrecked ships; boards from the decks form the flooring, masts and yards
appear as beams, cabin doors give entrance to the rooms.

The houses when I first went into them struck me as most dreary; no fire,
hardly any furniture, just a bare table, a wooden sofa which is nearly
always used as a bed, a bench, and perhaps a chair, with a seaman's chest
against the wall, a chimney-piece covered with a pinked newspaper hanging,
on which stood pieces of crockery, on the walls a few pictures and ancient
photographs. There are large open fire-places, but no grates or stoves,
the cooking being done on two iron bars supported by fixed stones.

The rooms are divided off by wooden partitions. There are generally two
bedrooms; the end one is also nearly always used as a kitchen, and the
groceries are usually kept there. On account of the high winds there are
generally windows only on the north of the house, which is the sunny side,
due to Tristan's being south of the equator.

Every house has a garden, but not used to grow vegetables or flowers,
which the people do not seem to care about, and certainly there are
difficulties owing to high winds, rats, fowls, and, not least, children.
They sometimes grow a few onions, cabbages and generally pumpkins: a few
pink roses and geraniums may be seen. Potatoes are their staple food, and
are grown in walled-in patches about three miles off. Each house has one
or two huts, in one of which they stow away their potatoes, and also a
lamb-house.

In the matter of clothing, the men have not much difficulty, as they
barter with the sailors on passing ships, giving in exchange the skins of
albatross and mollyhawks, the polished horns of oxen, small calf-skin bags
and penguin mats made by the women, and occasionally wild-cat skins. They
usually wear blue dungaree on week-days, and broadcloth or white duck on
Sundays. With the women and children it is different, for they depend on
parcels sent by friends, and as of late years there has been no regular
communication with the island they have been at times very short,
especially of underclothing. Now that whalers have begun to call again,
two or three appearing about Christmas time, they can sometimes get
material from them, but, except the dungaree, it is very poor stuff, and
they have to pay a high price in exchange. The women usually have a very
neat appearance, no hole is allowed to remain in a garment, which is at
once patched, and many and varied are the patches. They wear blouses which
they call jackets, and in the place of hats, coloured handkerchiefs
(occasionally procured from ships), which are worn all day, from morning
to night, and only taken off on very hot days, or when they are going to
be photographed, when as a rule no amount of persuasion will induce them
to keep them on. The little girls wear sun-bonnets, "capies" they call
them, and very well they look in them. The little boys wear short jackets
and long knickers. The women and girls card and spin their own wool, which
they knit into socks and stockings.

As regards food, potatoes take the place of bread. There are about twenty
acres under cultivation, each man having his own patches. They never
change the seed and rarely the ground. A man may enclose as many patches
as he likes provided he cultivates them. They used to manure their ground
with seaweed, but found its constant use made the ground hard; then they
tried guano, and finally sheep manure, which they use in large quantities.
They get it by driving their sheep during the lambing season four or five
times a week into the lamb-houses, penning them up from about five in the
afternoon until eight or nine next morning. The poor sheep must suffer
considerably both from being driven so much and because they get no food
while penned in. In spite of this barbarous practice the mutton when we
first went was very good--equal, we thought, to the best Welsh mutton, but
latterly its quality much fell off, and we found the sheep were largely
infected with scab. The people occasionally have beef in the winter.
Their method of killing the ox is very cruel, for often the poor animal is
chased about over the settlement by men and dogs, and only killed after
many shots. There is generally a good supply of milk. Betty Cotton at one
time milked sixteen cows, and made a large quantity of butter which she
sent by the man-of-war to her relations at the Cape. The making of cheese
has been quite given up. From July to October the men get a great number
of eaglet, penguin, and mollyhawk eggs--all sea-fowl. Fish can be caught
all the year round. Any groceries obtained must come from passing ships.
Sometimes months go by without tea, coffee, sugar, flour, salt and soap
being seen.

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