When annoyed at mealtimes by the constant quarrels of the white men about precedence, he ordered an immense round table to be made, for which a special house had to be built. This was the station’s messroom. Where he sat was the first place⁠—the rest were nowhere. One felt this to be his unalterable conviction. He was neither civil nor uncivil. He was quiet. He allowed his ‘boy’⁠—an overfed young negro from the coast⁠—to treat the white men, under his very eyes, with provoking insolence.