Though very disgusted at the time with the behaviour of these people, I felt on more mature consideration that one could not fairly judge them by instances like this. They are ignorant, shut off almost completely from the world, horribly limited in outlook, and they realized that at this moment there was slipping away from them the only possible source of acquiring the many things they so badly needed. Indeed, looking back on the whole visit to Tristan da Cunha, I am surprised that they were not much more wild and uncivilized than we found them, and they were, I believe, at any rate the older men among them, really grateful for what we had been able to do. I think their characters may be somewhat roughly summed up by describing them as “a lot of grown-up children.” CHAPTER XI TRISTAN DA CUNHA[13] We arrived at Tristan da Cunha on May 20th, 1922, just as dawn was breaking. A fine rain was falling and all the upper part of the island was shrouded in mist. The islanders seemed to be still in bed, for we saw no signs of activity until Commander Wild blew the steam whistle, which brought them running from their houses in haste, evidently very excited, for we saw them pointing towards us. The men ran down a steep winding path leading to a beach of black sand where a number of boats were drawn up. They launched the boats and came out towards us as fast as they could row. At first sight the people presented a curious spectacle. They were rather a wild-looking lot, and were clothed in every conceivable kind of male attire, which seemed to be the cast-off clothing of sailors who had called at the island. One man in particular was wearing the queerest mixture: an evening dress jacket, striped cotton shirt, dungaree trousers, whilst on his head was an officer’s peaked cap! 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.