and with this the men in the boat struggled for an hour or more against
the wind and current, before they could reach the opposite shore. At
last they gained it when the stern of the vessel was only about two
fathoms from the frowning rocks, on which the surf dashed high and
fearfully. They made the line fast to the rocks on shore, and men at
the capstan began to turn, slowly and carefully at first, fearing
that the line would part, which would have resulted in sure and swift
destruction to our beautiful _Morning Star_. But she began to move
slowly to the windward, and our hearts beat with hope and joy at every
foot gained. At length she was moored by a hawser to the rocks on
the windward shore of the harbor and our agony was over. It was near
night, and the natives on shore had waited in vain to welcome us, and
to attend divine service, it being Sunday; several, however, came
off in their light canoes to help us. The tact and great strength of
Kauwealoha, and the help of his boat and crew, were of great service to
us; indeed without this help our escape might have been impossible.
At evening, we went on shore and held service in the missionary’s
house. On the next day we explored and admired the beautiful valley of
Hakahekau. It is three miles long and one-fourth of a mile wide, with
a limpid brook babbling through its whole length. The whole valley is
crowded with magnificent trees, evergreen vines, and shrubbery.
The mountains, hills, ridges, spurs, domes, and lofty cones of this
island are very grand. Within a vast amphitheatre of rugged hills which
send down their spurs to the shore, buttressed by lofty precipices, are
eight remarkable columns, two hundred to three hundred feet high, and
fifty to one hundred feet in diameter, rising in solitary grandeur,
and standing against the sky. They give the island the appearance of a
castellated fortress, and are landmarks which may be seen far at sea,
marking the bay. The fantastic mountain forms in the Marquesas Islands
are amazing.
The population in 1853 was supposed to be 1,000 but ten years later
the small-pox carried off most of the people, so that only 300
remain, and this luxuriant valley is nearly depopulated. Not a house
remains in the upper part, and only five or six are clustered along
the shore. Thousands of ripe cocoa-nuts and breadfruits fall to the
ground and rot, for want of hands to gather and mouths to eat them.
Solitude and silence reign in the old heiaus, and on the grounds where
midnight fires once burned, where human sacrifices were offered, where
the lascivious dance and the wild orgies of heathen souls made the
groves resound, where the shouts of the warrior were heard, where the
_hulahula_ drum beat during the livelong night, and where dark savage
forms move like ghosts amidst the spectral gloom. Those baleful fires
are extinguished, and the voice of revelry is hushed in death. But,
alas! darkness still broods over the few who remain on this island. We
will, however, hope and pray for brighter days.
Leaving Uapou, we crossed the channel twenty-two miles and anchored in
Taiohai, Nuuhiva. We had heard that the French government in Tahiti
was displeased because Mr. Bicknell had taken a number of Marquesans
to Oahu, without first asking leave. Our mission at this time was to
explain to the governor that the Marquesans had been taken to Honolulu
only to be instructed, and the explanation satisfied his excellency.
[Sidenote: _Taipi (Typee) Valley._]
On the 30th of April we sailed from Uapou to Nuuhiva, twenty-two miles
due north. At Taiohai, or Port Anna Maria, the principal harbor of the
island, we took a French pilot, Mr. Bruno, who brought us to anchor at
5 +P.M.+ Taiohai is a noble bay and safe harbor, some two miles deep
and one mile wide, but narrower at the entrance. The views in this bay
are enchanting. The peaks of the island rise to the height of 3,860
feet. Almost every pinnacle is carpeted with grass and mosses, or
festooned with vines; even on the perpendicular walls of the precipices
a tapestry of shrubs and verdure hangs. This is the harbor where Capt.
Porter, of the _Essex_, reveled in 1813. From this bay, in 1842, the
gifted Herman Melville, with his friend Toby, absconded to the hills,
and made his devious and toilsome way to the Taipi valley, from which,
in spite of its paradise-like beauty and its bewitching enchantments,
he was but too glad to escape. I saw the valley he threaded, the
cane-brake through which he struggled, the ridge he bestrode, the
jungle where he concealed himself, and the towering summit over which
he passed. Melville lost his reckoning of distances as well as his
track. The enchanted valley of Taipi, Melville’s “Typee,” is only
four hours’ climb by the trail from Taiohai; and from ancient times
there has been a well-known trail from the head of one valley to the
other. This of course the young fugitive did not find. The distance is
not over five miles, and the Marquesans walk it, or rather climb it,
in three or four hours. The valley of Hapa, (Mr. Melville’s Happar)
lies between Taipi and Taiohae, and is only two or three hours’ walk
from the latter. These three valleys are all on the south side of the
island, and adjoin each other. During all his four months of romantic
captivity, the gifted author of “Typee” and “Omoo” was only four or
five miles distant from the harbor whence he had fled.
We called on the bishop, who received us politely, and entered into
free conversation with us, and with two English gentlemen, residents,
we visited the French nunnery. The Lady Superior received us with
great urbanity, and introduced us to the two Sisters. The Superior
was a large woman, of fair complexion and dignified bearing. All
of the ladies were ideals of scrupulous neatness in their attire.
Their institution was inclosed with a high wall of basalt, in which
two buildings of thatch, some sixty feet each, were erected, with
school-rooms, dormitories, kitchen, and chapel. The grounds were
ample and well kept, and there was an air of neatness about the whole
establishment. The number of girls was reported to us as sixty, ranging
in ages from four to fifteen years. They are taught to read and write,
to sew and embroider, and to gather breadfruits, cocoanuts, etc., and
to cook their own food. The expenses of this institution are borne by
the French Government, and the annual estimate is $120 for each girl.
[Sidenote: _The Island of Uahuna._]
The island of Uahuna is thirty miles east of Nuuhiva. Here, on the
3d of May, our missionaries, Laioha and his wife, welcomed us to
their thatched cottage, and the people were called together by the
sound of the horn. Donning their light tapas, they came streaming in
from all the jungle trails of the valley, bringing their children
for examination. Boys, girls, and adults gathered around us with
beaming faces, grasping our hands and saluting us with their melodious
“Kaoha.” Thirty-two pupils were examined, after which we held religious
services, and celebrated the Lord’s supper as was our habit at the
various stations. We then returned to the _Star_, taking with us
Laioha, and José, a Peruvian whom I had baptized at Puamau in 1860,
when he took the name of David.
The history of this David José after his baptism was interesting.
Desiring to labor for Christ, he went of his own accord in 1863
to Hooumi, a valley adjoining Taipi, on Nuuhiva, where he labored
earnestly and without pay to convert the people to Christ, working with
his own hands to supply his bodily wants. He collected thirty pupils,
who were greatly attached to him, and for whom he had high hopes.
Soon the small-pox struck the people with the blast of death.
Consternation seized the multitude, and leaving friends and relatives
to their fate, many fled to the mountains or wherever else they might
hope for shelter. And faithful David had forty cases under his care
with no one to help him. Of these, twenty died, and he buried them all
with his own hands. He labored on until 1866, when the French sold the
valleys of Hooumi, Taipi, and Hapa, adjoining one another, to a company
who ordered David to leave.
Again we crossed the channel to the valley of Hanamenu, on the island
of Hivaoa. Here we landed the six surviving Marquesans, brought from
Honolulu, who belonged to this place. On landing, there was a rush to
the shore and a great wailing. Fathers, mothers, brothers, and sisters
wailed fearfully for their kindred who had died on Oahu. Soon, however,
were heard the thuds of the falling breadfruits, and the squealing of
pigs, and a great feast was prepared in a short time.
Mr. Bicknell had made Hanamenu one of his stations, and had labored
earnestly with the people. Kekela also, and Kauwealoha had visited this
beautiful valley, and many of the people seemed tamed. A Marquesan
catechist was stationed here, and taking the old hopeful converts, and
those just returned from Oahu, we were requested to organize a church
at this station. This was done, and Kekela was chosen pastor for this
church of ten members, seven men and three women.
[Sidenote: _A Discouraged Missionary._]
On our way from Taiohai to Puamau we had heard of savage war in this
valley, and had been warned to approach it carefully. Kauwealoha and
others advised us not to land until Kekela came on board to report,
as the only safe landing-place had been in the hands of savages
hostile to the friends of Kekela. So we kept off and on, outside. At
length two boats came out of the harbor; one steering westward soon
disappeared, and Kekela came alongside in the other, informing us that
the westward-bound boat was the last of a large fleet of war canoes
returning to their own valleys. Kekela leaped on board with tears, and
was surprised to find his daughter, who came passenger with us, weeping
on his neck.
He told us that the war had just ended, that the last fighting had been
three days before, that the people who for months had been hidden in
caves and in fastnesses, were now crawling out, and that the cannibal
chief who had been so eager to eat Mr. Whalon was shot dead on the
previous Sunday. So the door was opened to us, and just in time for our
entrance.
Kekela seemed discouraged. The war had demoralized his people. He had
no church, his school was broken up, his congregation dispersed, his
pigs and potatoes were stolen, his mules and donkey killed and eaten,
and one of his out-houses burned; bullets had struck his house, and
several nocturnal attempts had been made to burn his large stone
dwelling, and this had been saved only by vigilant night-watching.
After doing what we could to calm and encourage the peace party, we
took Kekela and wife with four children and sailed for Atuona, a
station on the south side of Hivaoa, and occupied by Mr. Hopuku and
wife.
We examined a school, organized a church of five members, found an
interesting people and good working missionary and his wife, and left
the valley, impressed with the great romantic beauty of its natural
scenery and its luxuriant growth of tropic trees, and with a hope in
its moral advancement. We sailed the same evening for Omoa, Fatuiva,
where we were to carry the remains of Joseph Tiietai, one of their
chiefs and an early convert to Christianity. Here again we had been
warned to approach the bay with caution, because it had been reported
that the people were greatly exasperated at the death of this chief,
and of a number of others of the valley, in Oahu. The _Star_ was kept
out at a good distance from land to watch the movements on shore, for
it was said that armed boats and canoes would come out to take her.
Soon, however, Kaivi’s boat was alongside, bringing good old Abraham, a
brother of Joseph, and several others. By them we were assured that it
was safe to land, as they had succeeded in quieting and reassuring the
people, who had been very angry and threatening.
[Sidenote: _Visit to Omoa._]
The remains of the chief were taken on shore and received by his
friends with loud wailings. All the night after the funeral exercises
were held, the most fearful wailings were kept up, especially by his
sister. Men and women tore their hair, and cut themselves with sharp
bamboos till they were smeared with blood.
The next day, May 12, being Sunday, we sat up until midnight to
converse with the people who came in, to examine candidates for the
church, and Mr. Hapuku for ordination. On the morrow the ordination
took place; seventeen candidates were baptized and received to the
church on profession of faith, and one by letter. Ten had been received
before, making the whole number gathered into this church twenty-eight.
Of these four had died. The Lord’s supper was then administered to
about forty communicants, representing seven nationalities.
The decrepit Eve Hipahipa of fourscore years was brought in in the
arms of friends. She clasped our hands in both of hers, and with tears
and a fervent _kaoha_ laid them on the top of her head as if to ask a
benediction.
At the general meeting held in this place, where the _Star_ remained
five days, it was resolved that Mr. Kekela endeavor at once to
establish a boarding-school for boys, and Mr. Kauwealoha one for girls,
at their respective stations. The Omoa school was examined. It had
gained since our former visit fifteen pupils and sixteen readers.
On Friday, May 17th, there was a rush and roar of the savages, and we
were startled by loud shouts coming down the valley. On looking out I
saw a large company of tattooed savages carrying a canoe to the sea.
It was covered with a broad platform of bamboo, on which was erected
a small round house covered with mats. In the canoe were a live pig,
a dog, and a cock, and breadfruit, cocoanuts, _poi_, etc. The canoe
was ornamented with trappings, and rigged with a mast, a sprit, and a
sail of _kapa_. Naked swimmers, with much noisy demonstration, launched
this singularly equipped craft, and pushed it out, through a roaring
surf, into the open sea. There the swimmers left it, and returned to
the shore. The canoe, left to the tide, drifted slowly out of the bay.
But the wind not being favorable, it struck on the northern headland
of the harbor, advancing upon the rocks and then receding; borne, like
a ram, by the rush and the retreat of the surf. Seeing the danger it
was in, a native ran to the point and shoved off the struggling craft,
when, the wind filling its sail, it headed out seaward, moved off, and
disappeared.
I had a long talk with Teiiheitofe, a high chief, about the ceremonial
of this canoe. He said that it was a last offering to their god,
Kauakamikihei, on the death of the prophetess or sorceress, and that
this sacrifice propitiated the god, expiated their sins, and closed the
_koina_, or tabu, which had then lasted six weeks. During this _koina_
“all servile work and vain recreations are by law forbidden.”
[Sidenote: _Sad and Fruitless Errand._]
While the _Star_ was at Omoa, I revisited Hanavave on a sad and
fruitless errand. The wife of one of our missionaries had been enticed
by two young savages, brothers, and she was living with them among the
trees up the valley. Although warned of danger, as these seducers were
desperate, I was determined to seek for her, and beg her to go with me
to the _Star_ and to her husband and children. I found her forlorn and
desiring to return; but she said she feared her seducers, as they would
surely kill her before they would let her go. While we talked, the
young savages came in, armed with sheath-knives, and took seats so as
to look her full in the face, keeping their keen eyes fixed on her. She
dared not speak again. Through an interpreter I labored with them, but
they were relentless, and their prey was fast. I left them with a heavy
heart, wishing that some power might release her from their grasp. Poor
woman! she died in misery not long after.
It is sad to relate that the wife of Kaivi of Tahuata came to a similar
end.
The _Star_ returned to the stations of Hapuku and Kekela to land these
brethren, and at Puamau, it being Sabbath morning, Mr. Parker and I
went on shore to attend service, while the _Star_ remained outside. We
were happily surprised to find more than a hundred collected under some
large trees to hear the Gospel. It was a wild group. Just from the war,
many of the men were still armed with their formidable weapons. Before
service, Kekela’s house was jammed full of men, women, and children,
filling every room with their grotesque figures and the odors of their
pipes. They were like the frogs of Egypt; no place was sacred.
We had much talk with groups and individuals. One old warrior,
Meakaiahu, heavily tattooed, held quite an earnest debate with me. When
I spoke to him on the beauty of peace, and said that we should love
our enemies, he answered, “No, no; we should hate our enemies and kill
them.” When I urged the example and teachings of Christ, he shook his
head, and said, “What if I love my enemy and he _shoot me_?”
I urged and illustrated the reciprocal law of love, and how it begets
love. He seemed to feel the truth, and began to yield. He said, “I have
killed five men; I have a bullet in my body, but I will listen to you
and fight no more.”
[Sidenote: _A Marquesan Disputant._]
He then requested me to talk with his chief and persuade him to give up
fighting. He took my hand, pressed it hard, looked up into my face from
under a great leaf which screened his eyes, and said with emphasis,
“_Kaoha oe_,” “love to thee.” Holding on to my hand, he led me through
a crowd of steaming natives to his chief, a tall, old man named Moahau,
introduced me to him, and watched our conversation with eager interest.
The old chief was friendly, but witty and skeptical. When urged to
abandon his former habits and become a Christian, he replied: “I am too
old to change my life; let the children go with the missionaries; it is
too late for us old folks.”
When told that Jesus loved all; that He died for the old and the young;
that He would take all who obeyed Him to heaven, where there is no
hunger, no sickness, no war, no bullets or barbed spears, or death,
he replied, with a twinkle of the eye: “That will be a good place for
cowards and lazy folks who are afraid to fight and too lazy to climb
breadfruit and cocoanut trees.” This shrewd wit excited a laugh in the
listening crowd. But order was soon restored, and taking the old man’s
hand in one of mine, and the warrior’s in the other, I begged them to
unite on the side of the Prince of Peace, and to use their influence to
prevent wars, cannibalism, and idolatry, and to cheer and help their
good teachers, Kekela and Naomi. The old man yielded and said: “I will
stand by my friend, the warrior, and by Kekela; and now let us go out
and hear you talk to us under the trees.”
The horn sounded and the people flocked together, and for an hour,
while Mr. Parker and myself addressed them, the attention was
unusually marked. When we pronounced the services ended, the old
chieftains shouted out: “No! no! We are not weary. We want to stay and
talk with you.” To this call there was a hearty response from all, and
we remained until near sundown, while hands were raised from all parts
of the group, and voices called out, “Come _here_, come to _me_, come
and talk to _us_.” The scene was marvelous, and we felt that the Lord
was there.
Kekela, who had been greatly depressed and had well-nigh given up
all hope, was wonderfully encouraged. He proposed a meeting in the
evening and the communion of the Lord’s supper, saying: “I have seven
candidates for the church of long standing, but the war and the
confusion had so disheartened me, that I was on the point of giving all
up as lost.”
The seven were examined, approved, and baptized, and with those who
had been baptized five to seven years before, making ten in all, we
commemorated the death of our Lord. It was a precious season, “a night
long to be remembered.”
The French have made several wholesome laws for the islands, forbidding
wars, murder, cannibalism, sorcery, etc., on the leeward, or northwest
islands, including Nuuhiva, Uapou, and Uahuna. These laws were
beginning to take effect.
We had to carry back Laioha and Kauwealoha, who had been with us all
the time among the islands as guide, interpreter, and companion, to
their stations. When this was done, we offered thanksgivings to God
for our safe and prosperous voyage; and then, with all sails set, the
prow of our good vessel was turned to the northwest, and we left the
Marquesas, where we had spent twenty-three days. We anchored at Hilo on
June 6, 1867.
[Sidenote: _Decline of the Marquesan Mission._]
The number added to the Marquesan churches during this visit of the
_Star_ was forty-eight. The whole number from the beginning was
sixty-two.
In closing the history of my visits to this group, I can not forbear
expressing regrets that the mission has been so depleted. In September,
1880, we had only three laborers with their wives in that field. The
broad opening to the west, the call for laborers, for funds, and for
the services of our missionary packet, have led many of the friends
of missions on our islands to feel that we can not afford to send out
reinforcements to the Marquesas, or to spare the _Morning Star_ to make
an annual or biennial trip with a delegate to that group, and so out of
ten stations which we once occupied, only three remain with teachers.
The commencement of our work there was auspicious, and its progress and
fruits were encouraging, more so than of the mission to the Society
Islands, or to China, or to many other parts of the world.
But as it is said in Scripture, “The destruction of the poor is his
poverty,” so we must say of our work. And this is the wail over all the
earth,--want of laborers to gather the harvest, and want of material
means to give strength, courage, and due success to the weary toilers
in the field. Our three missionaries in the Marquesas are doing what
they can, and there is still encouragement that war, idolatry, and
cannibalism would soon cease, could we but continue the Gospel work
among that people.
XV.
_Visit to the United States--Salt Lake--Chicago--Washington
City--Brooklyn--Old Killingworth--Changes in the
Homestead--Passing Away--Return to Hilo--Death of Mrs. Coan._
After an absence of more than thirty-five years from the United States,
we were persuaded by the kind solicitations of friends, and by a
repeated invitation from the American Board, to return for a visit.
The health of Mrs. Coan being precarious, and no medical skill at the
Islands affording relief, it seemed the more desirable to go.
We arrived at San Francisco May 5, 1870. Spending fourteen days in
California, we took an Eastern train, spent a Sabbath at Salt Lake
City, saw the Prophet and several of his apostles, met several of the
Mormon missionaries whom we had seen in Hilo, attended service in
the great tabernacle, heard much bold assertion without proof, and
witnessed a singular observance of the Lord’s supper, the elements
being distributed by laughing boys, while a speaker was haranguing the
audience without making a single allusion to the death of Christ,
or to the ordinance which commemorated that event. We also saw the
foundation of the great temple, which a bold declaimer said was a
literal fulfillment of the prophecy of Isaiah ii. 2: that “the mountain
of the Lord’s house shall be established in the top of the mountains,
and shall be exalted above the hills; and all nations shall flow unto
it.”
The speaker affirmed that this prediction was now fulfilled before the
eyes of the Mormons, and all the people shouted _Amen_.
We spent a little time in Iowa, and arrived in Chicago June 1st. Here
I was called to labor more abundantly, and here we met many warm
friends, and two sons of our esteemed associates Mr. and Mrs. D. B.
Lyman; one of them a physician of prominence, the other a lawyer. In
this marvelous city we spent two weeks, and then came eastward. In all,
we visited more than twenty States and Territories, everywhere finding
multitudes of Christian friends; many of whom we had seen before, and
many more whom we had not seen in the flesh, but who were fathers and
mothers, brothers and sisters and friends in Christ Jesus.
[Sidenote: _The States Revisited._]
We found our country broad, fertile, populous, and wealthy. It had
extended from ocean to ocean; its villages, towns, and cities had
multiplied, and its population increased beyond a parallel in history.
Its schools, its colleges, its churches, and its humane and benevolent
institutions had multiplied marvelously. Its railroads formed a
web-work over all the land, and its telegraphic wires were quivering
through the atmosphere. Its progress in science, in art, in discovery,
in intelligence, in invention, in wealth, and in Christianity, seemed
to make it the pride of all lands.