The eight souls left behind had one common gospel-- Cleanliness.

Very little dust found its way thither; but the salt, spray-laden air kept them constantly polishing window-panes and brass-work.

To wash, to scour, to polish, grew into the one absorbing business of life.

They had no gossip; even in their own dwellings they spoke but little; their speech shrank and dwindled away in the continuous roar of the sea.

But from morning to night, mechanically, they washed and scoured and polished.