This is but a tiny portion of our Empire, but who knows, with the development of flying machines, of what use it may not ultimately become. Carr, our flying officer, late of the Royal Air Force, says there is a good site for an aerodrome, and the island is on the direct route from Cape Town to Buenos Aires. The Church organization also could do a vast amount of good by arranging for a permanent mission changeable, say, every three years, and thus ensure an unbroken education to those growing up. Much money is collected yearly for missions—for instance, to the Esquimaux—but there is evidence from the Arctic to show that the introduction of Christianity to these primitive people, who are not sufficiently evolved to receive it intelligently, has not always been productive of good, and in some cases has done much harm, whereas the value to Tristan da Cunha of a good sound practical religion combined with good schooling cannot be doubted. CHAPTER XIII DIEGO ALVAREZ OR GOUGH ISLAND On May 26th the wind was fair for Gough Island and we made good progress. Our ship had become a floating farmyard, for our live stock included sheep, geese, fowls, pig, cat, and, to stir them up and make things lively, our own dog Query, who had never before had so many interesting real live things to play with. The sow Bridget and the geese wandered all about the decks and got in the way generally. One gander was quite a character. He was blind of one eye and had a curious knack of standing with head on one side, quizzically regarding anyone he encountered. Regularly about once an hour he uttered a loud and very startling goose-call. We called him Nelson, and his mate, who followed him like a shadow wherever he went, was known as Jemima. Worsley in his watch below was being continually wakened by Nelson’s harsh noises, and on one occasion I saw his head appear through his port and heard him shout: “Be quiet, you silly beggar, you are not saving Rome now. That happened years ago!” Bridget was a tyrant; she would not let the sheep alone, but rooted about in their grass feed, and having collected it into a nice bed for herself, lay down on it in stertorous sleep whilst the sheep looked on, advancing now and again to take an apologetic nibble at their own grass. Dell, who had taken in hand the attempt to fatten these poor animals, drove her off relentlessly to the accompaniment of much squealing. We had a busy day squaring up after our upheaval at Tristan, and in getting ready the camping gear for use on Gough Island. On May 27th at about 12.0 noon the island showed up. In spite of the comparatively short run we had had some difficulty in picking it up on account of winds, strong tides and no sun, which made it impossible for Worsley and Jeffrey to locate exactly our position, and the visibility was so poor that we could see less than a mile in any one direction. About noon, however, it appeared as a high mass crowned with mist.