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.