FIJIAN RIVERS—SAMOAN ENVOYS—DEATH OF A TRUE APOSTLE—A
REVIVAL—MAKING A RACE-COURSE—MISSION TO NEW BRITAIN.
SUVA, VITI LEVU, FIJI, _March 26, 1877_.
MY DEAR NELL,—Once more we are safely back in the isles. We came from
Auckland in the Zealandia—a noble vessel, upwards of 3200 tons. You can
imagine how horrible was the change when she dropped us at Khandavu, and
we found only the Barb, a wretched little ketch of about 35 tons (the
best vessel poor Fiji had to send), and which was first to bring us here,
and was then to return to take the other passengers and the mails to
Levuka. We might well say “bad is the best,” for this, which at present
is _the_ Government ship, has no accommodation of any sort for ladies.
Fortunately we landed on a lovely day, and quite enjoyed our row up the
harbour, whence we walked across the isthmus to the opposite bay, where
the Barb was anchored. It is a lovely coast, with white sand and many
shells, and thickly fringed with palms. We lunched on the shore, and then
embarked. We had hardly set sail when it commenced to rain heavily. The
tiny cabin was so stuffy that it seemed hard enough to condemn even the
children to stay in it. They and their nurse had a miserable night of
sickness. For ourselves, we considered a drenching to be the lesser evil
of the two, so when night came on, we lay down on the deck with no awning
and the rain pouring, while gusts of wind periodically blew our umbrellas
inside out. The gentlemen, saturated and miserable, did their best to
be cheery, and occasionally came round to offer us creature comfort
in the way of bits of chocolate and biscuit, or a very needful nip of
brandy or claret. So the long night wore through. At daybreak we were off
Suva, but the mist was so dense that it was nearly noon before we could
distinguish the passage through the coral reef, and run into harbour.
You can imagine how glad we were to see the barge, and the gig with the
nice Fijian boatmen, all so pleased to welcome us back; and soon we were
comfortably housed in Mrs Joski’s pleasant home. (Nasova is, as usual,
undergoing re-thatching.)
Having landed us, the Barb returned to Khandavu to fetch the mails and
the other passengers (including two ladies and a baby). Though the
accommodation there was wretched enough, it must have been Paradise
compared with what followed. For five days and nights they lay becalmed
in pouring rain ere they reached Levuka! Such are the pleasures of
travelling in Fiji! And yet its beauty atones for many discomforts; and
the lovely days, when they do come, make up for all the rainy ones. And I
do feel so glad once more to see canoes with quaint sails, and graceful
living bronzes with artistic drapery. What a country this would be for
an artist studying figure painting! The people love to see themselves on
paper, and will sit as still as a rock for hours to be sketched. It is
lamentable that such good models should be wasted.
We had only been here one day when a messenger came from Nasova to say
that a vessel had arrived from Samoa bringing a deputation of chiefs,
representing the various conflicting parties there, who had come to
discuss the subject of British protection, and to see for themselves how
it is working in Fiji. So Sir Arthur, escorted by Mr Maudslay, went off
to receive them.
I think I have already told you that this is the spot which the Home
Government has just selected as the site of the future capital. Great
is the howl of dismay raised by the householders of Levuka at the
idea of the change; but there is no immediate prospect of a serious
migration from there, for as yet there are only four houses here. From
this verandah we have a lovely view of the harbour and the beautiful
mountain-ranges, seen through festoons of large-leaved _granadilla_,
the great passion-flower, which at present is loaded with ripe fruit as
big as a small pumpkin. These we eat with milk and sugar, and find them
excellent. We have had some charming expeditions by boat and canoe, the
latter being available in many places where we cannot take the boats.
Nothing can exceed the loveliness of some of the many rivers which flow
into Suva harbour, none too wide to admit of full enjoyment of the rich
tropical foliage which clothes their banks, overhanging the stream, and
sometimes mirrored on the clear waters. Delicate and beautiful creepers
of every conceivable pattern, assuming forms more or less akin to our
own Virginian creeper, convolvulus, and ash, only in infinite variety
and luxuriance, blend their foliage one with another in inextricable
confusion, and together overspread the tall trees, thence falling in long
veils as of dripping leaves. Verily these green things of the earth are
things of beauty. Loveliest of all is a climbing fern which the natives
call the _Wa kolou_, or god fern,[55] and with which they make garlands
either for their own shoulders, or to twine round the ridge-pole of
their houses. And nowhere have I seen tree-ferns in greater abundance
than here. You come upon banks so densely clothed with them that you
distinguish no other form. Still it is hard to get reconciled to the
wholesale destruction of so much beauty, which results from the use
of the stem for ordinary purposes, such as making fences and supports
for the interior of houses. Multitudes of wild duck haunt these quiet
streams, and tantalise the sportsman by falling wounded, with just life
enough to dive; and if only they can reach the tangled roots of the
mangrove, they are never seen again.
One day Adolphe Joski rowed me up the lovely Tama Vua river to see a
village perched on a high crag. We landed, and climbed up a rock-stair,
which was like the stairs of a dozen cathedral towers heaped one above
the other, and as slippery as ice—rather a difficult approach to one’s
home! Yet in this eyrie we found several families with their little
ones, apparently perfectly content with their quarters. According to
custom, the graves of the village are on a point still more difficult
of access, in order that they may be safe from the desecrating hands of
foes. Of course, the position of both village and graves tells of the
days of war and cannibalism. Already some of the people have come down to
a more convenient level; and we halted at a village near the river, and
rested in the house of a fine old chief, whose fireplace and great black
cooking-pots I sketched, while his graceful daughter sat by, watching my
work, and peeling ripe delicious oranges, with which she fed me, while my
companion talked to the old chief.
Another day we all went to a neighbouring village to see Andi Clara,
who is the nicest Fijian lady we know, and has such a pretty new
brown baby. Last year’s baby has grown quite beautiful. It is Lady
Gordon’s god-child, and called after her, Andi Racheli.[56] I halted
that afternoon, to sketch in the sugar-cane fields; but the position
proved bad for the arts, as my escort never ceased peeling canes, and
administering small juicy pieces, which, though irresistible, were
decidedly sticky.
One day last week I started alone at daybreak to sketch a group of
beautiful peaks; some points in the range are upwards of 4500 feet in
height: my path lay through the deserted sugar-fields, where the cane is
now left to run wild. Though useless for commerce, it is sufficiently
luxuriant to reach far above my head, and that morning I found it
dripping from the previous night’s rain. Of course I was soon soaked,
and had enough to do to keep my paper dry. Following a faint old native
track, I got into a glen full of dark _eevie_ trees (the Fijian chestnut
tree). I pushed on, passing occasional patches of cultivation, yam and
_taro_, thinking that where these were, I must find my way all right.
Then I came to a limpid stream, overshadowed by a shaddock-tree, loaded
with great ripe fruit, like huge oranges, pink inside; so I rested
and ate shaddock, and then started afresh. Soon I lost all trace of
the track, and I could scarcely force my way through the dense reedy
grass, which is eight or ten feet high, and all matted with convolvulus.
Whichever way I turned, up hill or down, it was all the same weary waste
of tall reeds; and if by chance I found an old _taro_ patch, there
remained no sign of any path. At last I concluded that I was really lost,
and shouted till I was tired, hoping that some villager might have come
to dig his yams; but no voice answered. Then I bethought me if only I
could strike the glen again, I could scramble along in the bed of the
stream till I hit the track; and at last I happily did so, and got home
pretty well tired out, as you can imagine.
* * * * *
BAU, _April 29, 1877_.
After ten days at Suva it was decided that the whole party should return
to headquarters at Nasova without waiting for the completion of the
thatching, though it does cause a confusion and a hubbub all about the
place. So we started—ourselves in a large new boat, the Abbeys in the
gig, a third boat with luggage and servants, towing the Baron’s canoe,
and two beautiful cutters (belonging to Mr Maudslay and Captain Knollys)
bringing the rest of the household goods. We were thus quite a fleet.
Five hours’ sail brought us to Rewa, where we went to see the wife of the
chief, Andi Tartilia, who had a small daughter last week. This atom is
called “The Lightning of Heaven.” It was handed to me on a tiny mat, very
finely woven, and just its own size. It is against all Fijian custom that
the child of a chief should leave nursing-arms for the first ten days,
so many ladies of rank assemble and relieve guard. Five were sitting
together, cuddled up in a huge piece of _tappa_, which was considered
necessary to keep the baby warm. The mother lay close to the fireplace,
in the middle of the floor, with a blazing fire, and an immense square of
handsome _tappa_ thrown over her, covering a space of many yards. This
with a thermometer at about 85°!
We came here that same evening, and received our usual cordial welcome
from Mr and Mrs Langham. Lady Gordon had arranged to proceed to Nasova
the next day, but I gladly accepted an invitation to stay here a few
days. I was all the better pleased to do so, as the party of Samoan
chiefs having had their interview with the Governor regarding British
protection, have been sent here for further information from the native
chiefs, and of course their reception by the Vuni Valu and his people is
a matter of great interest. The chiefs are representatives of the three
parties who have been contending for mastery in Samoa, and who now crave
the help of the British lion in settling their difficulties. Two of the
party talk excellent English, and all are most intelligent. The two
ladies are pretty, graceful girls.
A curious piece of old Fijian etiquette was observed on their arrival.
The little vessel which brought them from Ovalau had anchored at Bau the
night we arrived here. Of course with ten Samoan gentlemen and two ladies
on board so small a craft, the pleasure of getting ashore would have
been very great. But this could not be dreamt of. Not till the following
morning, when the Vuni Valu sent messengers to _swim_ off to them, with
whales’ teeth and other gifts, and invite them to land, could they do so.
Then they came ashore in great state, all very handsome chief-like men,
dressed in heavy drapery of the thickest hand painted _tappa_. They were
received by the Fijian chiefs, and conducted to Thakombau’s house, where
there was a great ceremonial drinking of yangona.
In the evening we went to call in due form on the Samoan ladies, and
found them at the house of the king’s son, Ratu Timothy, and his pretty
Tongan wife. Of course the great wooden yangona-bowl occupied a central
position, and the party lay in picturesque groups on the mats all round.
To-morrow they are all to be taken an expedition up the Rewa, to show
them something of the country, the sugar-mills, &c.
This evening I have been a lovely expedition with Mr Langham, up one
of the beautiful little rivers on the mainland, to the village of Na
Ooa Ooa. The stream gradually narrowed as we ascended, and we glided
on beneath overhanging trees, in and out between old mangroves, which
dropped their strange weird roots into the stream from a height of fully
twenty feet. As we returned late in the evening to the river’s mouth,
the clouds on the horizon were fiery as if at sunset, and the red moon
rose from the sea like a ball of molten gold, casting long gleaming
reflections on the still waters.
Late as it was, on our return we went to see dear old Joeli Mbulu, the
noble old Tongan minister of whom I have often spoken to you. Alas! his
work is wellnigh finished. He is greatly changed this week—wasted to
a shadow; but his face is perhaps more beautiful than ever, from its
sweetness of expression and the bright look which at times lights it
up,—just like some grand old apostle nearing his rest. He is very tall
and stately, with a halo of white hair and long grey beard. His skin is
very fair, like that of all the Tongans and Samoans. Generally he wears
only his long white waist-cloth, almost to the feet, which are bare, and
folds of native cloth round his loins. He has been a Christian teacher in
Fiji for the last thirty years—that is, from the beginning—amid noise and
tumult of war, and in the thick of all the devilry of cannibalism. He has
been the old king’s special teacher,—and many a difficult day he has had
with him and all his handsome, strong-willed sons and daughters. They are
all very much attached to him; and some of them are generally with him
now, fanning or just watching beside him.
There is no doubt that his magnificent physical development has tended to
increase his ascendancy over a race which naturally looks up to one whose
stature at once proclaims him to be _tamata ndina_ (a man indeed). That
such he is, is testified by the deep scars on one arm, which tell of such
a triumph, and such power of endurance, as no Fijian living can boast of.
Many years ago, he had a dream about an encounter with a shark. This so
haunted him, that for many days he refused to swim, as was his wont, in
the deep water near the mouth of the river. At length, yielding to the
persuasions of other bold swimmers, he ventured in, and was far ahead of
his companions, when suddenly he beheld the monster of his dream coming
straight towards him. There was not a moment for hesitation. As the
cruel jaws opened, he plunged his arm down the throat of the shark, and,
grasping its tongue by the root, held it firmly, while with the other arm
he swam towards the shore, dragging the brute after him. As he reached
the bank he fell down in a dead faint from exhaustion and loss of blood;
but his wounds were speedily dressed, and the arm recovered almost all
its power.
* * * * *
BAU, _May 6, 1877_.
The Samoan party returned last Thursday, much pleased with all they
have seen. Next day the annual “missionary meeting” was held here,
when, as you know, the people of the district assemble to bring their
contributions for the support of the mission, and each village exhibits
its favourite dance. On this occasion, one descriptive of catching a
hundred fish had been specially ordered for the amusement of the Samoans,
and was particularly good, as was also a fan dance. Then the ladies
of Bau, headed by the old queen and her daughter, and all the young
ladies of noble birth, sang a very fine _méké_, with appropriate stately
gestures; and very well they looked,—all alike wearing the little white
jacket, with low neck and short sleeves, and a fringe of bright yellow
banana-leaf, torn into strips, round the waist, over their skirts of
native cloth.
As a study of colour, I specially noted one stalwart fellow wearing a
garland of these golden leaves thrown over his madder-brown shoulders,
and a gauzy film of sienna-coloured smoked _tappa_ over his hair, and
folds of creamy-brown _tappa_ round the waist. He stood in relief against
a clear blue sky—a study for an artist.
On the following day, the Vuni Valu had ordered the people of four towns
on the mainland to come over and perform a great _méké_ in honour of his
guests, assembling as usual on the _rara_—_i.e._, the village green. They
came, very elaborately dressed. First two hundred marched up, one hundred
bringing rolled-up mats, and one hundred bearing _taro_, to be laid as
offerings at the strangers’ feet. Other dancers brought sugar-canes and
divers gifts. The first two hundred then stood up in double line facing
us, one line constantly advancing and retreating under the arms of the
others. This was exceedingly graceful. Their dress was almost uniform,
most having very handsome large neck ornaments of carved shell. The
measured hand-clapping was so regular that it sounded like one pair of
hands each time.
Then came a second company, bearing gifts of yams and pottery, which
they added to the first heap. They also performed a very graceful dance
like an elaborate ballet. This done, Thakombau formally presented the
property to the Samoans, whose principal attendants proceeded to _count
the amount given_, and return thanks for so many articles. Then two of
the party arose (they were all dressed in kilts of rich brown native
cloth, with necklaces of large red berries and green leaves). These
two then performed an extraordinary dance, which greatly astonished the
Fijians. They capered wildly round and round the _rara_ like a pair of
spinning-tops, twirling a club round their head, and springing into the
air in most wonderful style,—throwing the club up and catching it again.
The Vuni Valu, who was looking on with intense interest, recognised this
ceremony as an ancient Fijian form of accepting an offering.
These Samoans are very handsome men, and their skin is a clear olive
colour. In dancing so energetically, their kilts of native cloth very
naturally became disarranged, and revealed complete knee-breeches of the
most elaborate close tattooing. I wonder whether the _woad_ of our own
ancestors was as artistically put on!
They then proceeded to touch each offering, and next touched the crown of
their head in token of acceptance. One of their party now made a speech,
which their interpreter repeated to the Vuni Valu, after which they
divided the spoil—apportioning gifts of food to the mission and to each
house of note in Bau, and reserving the mats and pottery as their own
share. Of course their daily food is given to them ready cooked.
After the dances they came up to tea here, sitting at the table in most
orthodox style, and were much amused looking at coloured stereoscopes.
They were also delighted because a lady who is staying here played all
the liveliest tunes she possibly could induce the harmonium to give
forth; and they joined in singing “Home, sweet Home,” and similar old
airs, which seemed familiar to them,—and, moreover, they sang them quite
in tune, which I cannot say for most Fijians.
In the evening we were all invited to join the party at the old king’s
house. While waiting our summons we sat in the clear moonlight under
the great Mbaka trees among the huge grey stones, which were formerly
the foundation of the principal heathen temple, and the scene of many a
bloody sacrifice. Now all was still and peaceful; for it was the hour of
evening prayer, and each family was assembled in its own home for a few
moments of quiet worship. Close by was the house in which lay dear old
Joeli, fast passing away from the scene in which he has so steadfastly
worked to bring about this great change.
After a while the old chief sent to fetch us. We found him and his family
seated on the mats in a semicircle—his guests in another semicircle
facing him, and all the retainers crouching round. We were placed on
mats at the upper end and the great wooden yangona-bowl stood opposite.
This night the nectar was to be brewed by the Samoans, and we watched
with interest to see wherein their customs in preparing their national
drink differed from those of Fiji. In the first place, there were no
songs during the process of chewing, which I regretted, as I delight in
the wild measured chants which invariably accompany the yangona-brewing
of Fiji, where there are special songs and distinct varieties of
hand-clapping for each stage of the proceeding. Here, too, no woman
touches the bowl.
The Samoan girls not only helped in chewing, but one of them strained
the mixture in the great wooden bowl through the hybiscus fibre, and
most gracefully she did it. She had put off her heavy necklace of large
scarlet berries, and wore only a white _sulu_ with fringe of green
leaves, and a scarlet hybiscus in her rich sienna hair. It was a pretty
picture. But the old king could scarcely conceal his contempt at the idea
of seeing a woman deputed to such an office. It was not _vaka Viti_,
he said—that is, not according to Fijian custom. A Samoan attendant,
wearing only a _liku_, or kilt fringe of green leaves, carried round the
cocoa-nut cup which the girl filled for each drinker, while a herald
proclaimed the name of each in his social order. The name of a very high
chief was whispered almost inaudibly, while that of his messenger was
shouted. There was none of the measured hand-clapping so essential in
Fiji while a chief is drinking, and when he has finished. In Samoa only
the drinker himself claps his hands on returning the cup, which he hands
back, instead of skimming it across the mat, _vaka Viti_.
The chiefs had already held a great discussion on the state of affairs
in their respective countries, and their inability to protect themselves
against the wicked machinations of scheming white men of all nations,
without the aid of some civilised Government. Much to our satisfaction,
therefore, the old king, weary of talking business, asked the Samoans to
let him see one of their dances. They at once consented; and, remarking
that the highest chief was the best dancer, four of them agreed to dance,
while the others sang and played a sort of accompaniment by clapping
hands. At first the four sat on the ground, going through violent action
of the arms, and hand-clapping all over their own bodies. They then
sprang to their feet and danced a sort of wild Highland fling. Finally,
they made most hideous faces at one another, and we agreed it must be a
fragment of some old devil-dance. Afterwards they showed us a quieter
dance, but it was utterly lacking in the grace of the Fijian _mékés_. The
songs were very pretty; some reminded me of wild Gaelic airs, and they
were sung in perfect tune, with good seconds.
It was nearly midnight when we left the old king’s house; and hearing
that a canoe had arrived from Levuka, we went to the Roko’s house to get
our letters. Lady Gordon had sent a parcel of jujubes and acid drops for
dear old Joeli, which we took to him. The noble face lighted up as we
entered, and he greeted us as was his wont—with holy and loving words. He
was perfectly calm, and the grand steadfast mind clear as ever; but it is
evident that he is nearing his rest.
To-day it is very hot; there is not a breath stirring. The sea is
perfectly calm, and reflects every delicate cloud and distant isle. A
canoe starts at daybreak, and will take this letter. So good-bye.
* * * * *
BAU, _May 7, 1877_.
Last night there was great wailing and lamentation in Bau, for soon after
midnight Joeli passed away, and died nobly as he had lived. He was quite
conscious to the very last, and the expression of the grand old face
was simply beautiful—so radiant, as of one without a shadow of doubt
concerning the Home he was so near. No man ever more truly earned the
right to say, “I have fought a good fight—I have kept the faith;” and
none ever was more truly humble. If ever the crown of righteousness is
awarded by a righteous Judge to His true and faithful servants, assuredly
Joeli will not fail to stand in that blessed company.
This morning we went to look once more on the face we all loved so
truly. He looked grand in death as in life, lying on a square of rich
black-brown _tappa_, his head pillowed on a large roll of native cloth,
his beautiful white hair thrown back as a halo, and his long white
beard adding to his patriarchal beauty. Over his feet were thrown
two beautifully fine Samoan mats. His poor widow Ekkesa, his pretty
grand-daughter, and many other women, and students from the college,
were all weeping bitterly, as those who had lost their wise and loving
counsellor and guide. The king and all his family also mourn sorely, for
Joeli has ever been their true and faithful friend and minister; and
many a time has he vainly pleaded with the old chief in the long years
ere he could be brought to abandon the vile customs of heathenism. All
through Joeli’s illness I have rarely entered the house without finding
some member of Thakombau’s family sitting by him, watching his sleep, or
fanning him.
According to native custom, the costly Samoan mats and native cloth that
lay beneath him and over his feet were buried with him; and had the
funeral been simply _vaka Viti_, the body should only have been wrapped
in many Fijian mats. But Thakombau, anxious to do all honour to his old
friend, wished that he should be buried in a coffin. So as there chanced
to be a half-caste carpenter on the island building a boat, he made a
coffin with some planks of red cedar wood. He did not get the order till
10 A.M., and the funeral was to start at 3 P.M. Just an hour beforehand
it was brought to the mission to be lined and covered, in which work I
assisted, and so gained my first experience of undertaker’s business.
The place of burial was a beautiful site near an old church on the
neighbouring isle of Viwa. The funeral procession was a very touching
one. One large canoe carried the dead and the chief mourners. The old
king and his three stalwart sons and two daughters, as also Andi Eleanor,
Tui Thakow’s real wife, followed in others; and nearly all the people
of Bau, and from many neighbouring villages, came in canoes and boats,
making a very great procession. All the principal mourners, including
the royal family, wore a piece of coarse old matting, all frayed out,
in token of mourning. It is worn round the waist, over the ordinary
dress. We made a beautiful great wreath of white jessamine and blue-grey
flowers, with an outer wreath of scarlet leaves, and this we laid on the
coffin. The grave was upwards of a mile from the shore; and about twenty
young teachers—fine young fellows—took it by turns to carry the coffin up
a steep hill, and through green forest-glades, to the place of rest. Part
of our beautiful funeral service was repeated in the rich Fijian tongue
(which to my ear always resembles Italian); and then Joeli was laid
beside his old friend and teacher, the Rev. John Hunt, one of the early
Wesleyan missionaries, with whom he had shared many an anxious day, and
who died here in 1848, at the early age of thirty-six.
I told you about Mr Hunt commencing the mission at Somo Somo. For the
last six years of his busy life of earnest work he lived chiefly on this
island, where he had established his printing-press; and in the intervals
of travelling from isle to isle, in danger, storm, and privation—teaching
the people and superintending the schools—he found time to train a large
number of native agents, and also to produce and print an admirable
translation of the New Testament. If you think of the amount of labour
represented in acquiring so very elaborate a language by ear, reducing it
to writing, and then translating and printing so large a book, with such
rude appliances, and so little help, you will surely conclude that this
of itself would have been no light work for one man to undertake. So it
was no wonder that this over-willing spirit should have outworn the frail
body.
He had his reward in seeing a marvellous change pass over his cannibal
neighbours at Viwa. Here (where, five years before, one of the most
horribly treacherous massacres which ever disgraced Fiji had been
perpetrated, and the bodies of upwards of a hundred poor fishermen
deliberately murdered for the ovens of Bau, lay strewn all round the
mission premises, where Mr Cross and his family, with the native
teachers, had assembled, horror-stricken, but utterly powerless to stay
the butchery), Mr Hunt records the story of a general awakening, before
which all such revival meetings as we have heard of elsewhere seem pale
and colourless. He had instituted special prayer-meetings (penitent
meetings they were called) on Saturday evenings, and was struck by the
exceeding earnestness which seemed to prevail amongst all present. This
was the commencement of a series of meetings held night and morning in
almost every house, when, like the men of Nineveh of old, these people,
with one accord, humbled themselves in the dust, crying for mercy, with
one heart and one voice. These fierce murderers and cannibals seemed
suddenly to realise the awfulness of their guilt, and were overwhelmed
by the sense of their own wickedness. In deepest contrition they knelt
before the God of the Christians, weeping and wailing piteously, pleading
for forgiveness, and continuing in such agony of prayer that many of
these men—some of them the worst cannibals in Fiji—fainted from sheer
exhaustion, and no sooner recovered consciousness than they again began
to agonise in prayer till they again became insensible. They had to be
literally forced to take necessary food. Those who heard their cry noted
its strong earnest sense. They simply bewailed their past wickedness,
and implored God’s mercy. This continued for several days, during which
business, sleep, and food were almost entirely neglected. But the cry
of the people was heard and answered, and soon a strange new peace—the
peace that passeth understanding—seemed to pervade the isle. The people
that had hitherto sat in darkness now saw a great light, and those who
hitherto had been noted only for their evil deeds now became gentle and
teachable, and began to lead simple, consistent, Christian lives. Truly,
if such a change as this were the sole result wrought by the mission, the
lives of Cross, Hunt, Hazlewood, Polglaze, and Baker were not laid down
in vain, when one by one they died at their posts from sheer over-work.
At least the first four did so. Mr Baker was murdered, as I mentioned in
writing from Viti Levu.
We lingered on the beautiful and now peaceful isle of Viwa for some
hours, and then returned through the forest and over the star-lit sea,
and so back to the landing-place, at which Joeli had so often met and
welcomed us; and up the steep steps leading to the mission, past the site
of the horrid ovens, where he had so often stood to rebuke the cruel
rites that were there enacted. Altogether it has been a very sad day,
and the funeral was one of the most pathetic and touching scenes you can
imagine.
* * * * *
NASOVA, _May 9, 1877_.
Yesterday morning I started very early with Mr Langham to visit Moturiki,
a rich beautiful island with lovely foliage. Our destination was a
village called Niu Mbasanga, meaning the “two-headed cocoa-nut,” which
we there saw, and which is quite as great a deformity and wonder as a
two-headed giant would be. I have only heard of one other palm-tree which
has indulged in any freak of growth: that other is on the isle of Ngau,
where five stems are said to spring from one root.
We found the people of seven villages assembled for their annual
“missionary meeting.” There was the usual conference with the teachers
about church matters, and the usual festive manner of presenting the
annual offerings for the mission, the people adorned with the accustomed
gay wreaths of bright leaves, and dancing joyously as is their wont. They
looked happy and picturesque. The dances were excellent, and very varied.
Even now, I constantly see something new to me. Yesterday most of the
dancers carried huge fans, and were dressed in floating folds of native
cloth, with kilt fringe of many-coloured ribbons of _pandanus_-leaf,
also floating lightly round them. You cannot think how strange it is
to see all the action and grouping of most admirable ballets, with the
surroundings of a Fijian village—thatched houses, fine old trees, palms,
a few big pigs and a multitude of little pigs roaming at large, and
crowds of gentlest savages looking on. We rested at the house of Ratu
Ben, a good-looking chief, who urged us to remain; but we were obliged
to push on, and sleep at a village further along the coast, as it was
necessary to cross the only passage through the reef at high tide, which
was at midnight. It was sunset ere we could leave the first village, and
of course we were not expected at the next; but the people soon turned
out to meet us, and made torches of dry cocoa-palm leaves to light us
through the wood. This is always a pretty sight, as the red gleams fall
on great plantain or palm leaves, and ferns of every size and shape. As
usual, we took possession of one end of the teacher’s house, and the
student-boatmen and their friends had mats at the other end. Early this
morning we explored the village, which is pretty, and overshadowed by
great _eevie_ trees. Then we walked a mile along the shore to the boat,
and started to row and sail by turns, keeping inside the main reef all
the way. It was a lovely day for a sail, but it was only occasionally
that we could venture to hoist one, as the beautiful, but horribly
dangerous, coral-patches are very numerous. How you would enjoy such an
expedition, looking down at the endless wonders of the corals, and fishes
of all hues; and all this as you glide along in perfectly smooth water,
inside the great reef, where the white breakers form a wall of dazzling
surf—and how they do boom and roar!
We got here at noon, and found all well, except Sir Arthur, who is laid
up with a very painful knee: this is particularly awkward just now, as
the Samoan party have arrived, and have to be formally received. There
is to be a great Fijian _méké_ in their honour; and the native soldiers
are now hard at work practising their dances on the green, which greatly
distracts my attention, as I cannot resist watching them.
The house has just been rethatched, so it is full of caterpillars;
but as there are no biting creatures in all Fiji (except mosquitoes
and sand-flies, and a rare centipede), we do not mind the innocent
caterpillars. But the thatchers have destroyed all the beautiful festoons
of climbing plants which we had trained so carefully over the pillars and
verandah before our windows.
There goes the dressing _lali_—_i.e._, a fine deep-toned wooden
drum—which is our Fijian substitute for dressing and dinner gong, so I
must stop writing. You cannot think how handsome the dining-room now
looks. You know it was built as a council-chamber for the old king. Now
it is adorned with most artistically-arranged trophies of spears, clubs,
bowls, and all Fijian art-work, with richly-designed native cloth as
drapery. So everything is well in keeping. Good-bye.
* * * * *
NASOVA, _May 25_.
There has been a wonderful outburst of gaiety, chiefly due to the
presence of H.M.S. Sapphire, which has given an unwonted impetus to
cricket-matches, lawn-tennis, canoe-races, yacht-races, and all such
small amusements as the place affords. But the excitement culminated
yesterday, when, in honour of the Queen’s birthday, Levuka had her first
race-meeting!—real races! If only you could see the island, you would
understand the wonder, especially if you recollect that, when we landed
here eighteen months ago, Captain Olive and the butcher owned the only
two horses on Ovalau; and Sir Arthur brought out two ponies. As the only
place where these could be used was the rough path, about one mile long,
between Nasova and Levuka, and the little break-neck paths leading to
different private houses, there seemed small reason to import more. It
has been done, however, and straightway the Anglo-Saxon colony demanded
a race-course. The question was where it could be made; for it was
difficult to find a bit of level ground, large enough even for cricket.
At last, however, a place has been found, seven miles down the coast,
where, by going several times round the course, a fair distance may
be run. It has been necessary, however, to wage incessant war against
the crabs, which perforate the ground in every direction, and make it
extremely dangerous for horses. Notwithstanding all drawbacks, there were
half a-dozen races, and three or four horses or ponies entered for each.
The jockeys had colours; and Levuka’s first races were most amusing, and
voted a great success. The race-course in itself was extremely pretty,
being situated on the sea-shore, at the entrance to a fine wooded gorge
between high hills. Nearly a hundred boats, cutters and canoes, had
arrived from Levuka and along the coast; and Europeans and Fijians formed
picturesque groups beneath the cocoa palms and other trees, while a
grand stand had been erected for the _élite_. The day was faultless, as
beseemed the Queen’s birthday,—and the scene was altogether very pretty,
and quite a novel experience for Fiji.
On our way back we went to tea on board the Sapphire, and then there was
a large official dinner here, to about fifty people. To-morrow there is
to be a regatta of all the boats and cutters belonging to the place, or
to the ships in harbour, ending with a great native canoe race. It is
sure to be a very pretty sight. We are to lunch on board H.M.S. Reynard,
and then go to five o’clock tea on board H.M.S. Sapphire.
* * * * *
_May 30._
Last night Lady Gordon and I went to dine with Mr Mitchell and Mr Eyre,
who are living in a purely Fijian house in the native village. They
gave us excellent soup, made of young _taro_ leaves boiled in sea-water,
with the cream of squeezed cocoa-nut, prawns boiled and curried with
cocoa-nut, pigeons, Fiji puddings, and yams and _taro_ served on banana
leaves.
Afterwards we sat at the door, watching the full moon rise from the
sea, framed by groups of palm-trees; then we walked up to the quiet
little cemetery on the hill, where the reedy grasses, shivering in the
night-wind, seemed like spirit voices, whispering of those who there rest
in peace.
* * * * *
_June 1._
Yesterday we dined on board H.M.S. Sapphire. It savoured of Fiji, that on
going down to the pier we found it under repair, and we had to climb down
to the boat as best we could. Lady Gordon was carried in her chair to
another pier at some distance, to find that also under repair; so she had
to climb down after all, and of course we were unpunctual in consequence.
The dinner was most _récherché_ (larks stuffed with truffles, &c.), and
perfect in every detail, as are also Captain Murray’s lovely cabins. As
we rowed back by moonlight the ship burnt blue lights, displaying herself
to great advantage.
* * * * *
_June 22, 1877._
This morning I went with Baron von Hügel to breakfast on board the
mission brig, John Wesley, with the Rev. —— and Mrs Brown, who are
just about to sail for New Britain, taking with them a party of Fijian
teachers to reinforce those already settled there. This mission to New
Britain and New Zealand is purely Fijian—Mr Brown being the only white
man connected with it. At the present moment, when the colonisation of
New Guinea is a subject under so much discussion, and the desperate
character of its cannibal people acknowledged to be an obstacle which
even the thirst for gold does not make men willing to face, it certainly
is interesting to know that from Fiji (which has itself so recently
received the light of Christianity) has gone forth the first effort which
sooner or later will inevitably result in the civilising of these wild
tribes; and, to look at it from a mercantile point of view, will open the
door first to traders, and then to permanent settlers.
It was, I think, in June 1875 that the idea of this mission was first
suggested; and that Mr Brown, after fully explaining to all the native
teachers the imminent dangers it involved, asked if there were any
among them who would volunteer for the work. The response was most
cordial; and nine brave determined men (seven of whom were married, and
their wives true helpmeets in this great work) announced their wish to
undertake it. On hearing of this, the English Consul considered it his
duty to summon these teachers, and lay before them, in glowing colours,
the dangers they were about to incur from climate and cannibals, and the
almost inevitable fate that awaited them should they persist in their
rash determination.
They replied that they had counted the cost, and were ready to accept all
risks. One acting as spokesman for all, said: “We are all of one mind.
We know what those islands are. We have given ourselves to this work. If
we get killed, well; if we live, well. We have had everything explained
to us, and know the danger. We are willing to go.” They added that all
dangers had been fully set before them by the missionaries, and that they
had determined to go, because of their own wish to make known the Gospel
of Christ to the people of other isles. Throughout the Fijian Isles the
native teachers receive a salary of £10 a-year, and are supplied with
food by their scholars. These men resigned all claim to any definite
salary. They gave themselves as volunteers, without even the certainty of
daily bread, resolved to face whatever hardships might lie before them.
With something more than the zeal of the early saints (for we never
hear that they went to live amongst cannibals), this band of brave men
set sail in this same mission-brig, the John Wesley.[57] Mr Brown had
left his wife and children in New Zealand; and I doubt if he was able
to communicate once with them during the two years of his absence. He
has now returned to announce that the mission is fairly established. He
has been to New Zealand to see his family; and his wife, being a brave
little woman, and of one mind with her husband, has resolved to return
with him. So they have placed their elder children at school, and are
taking only one baby with them; and now they have returned to Fiji to
enlist fresh volunteers, and a few days hence they will quietly sail
away on their errand of mercy. And though their departure from here will
hardly excite a passing comment, there is small doubt that their work
will leave an enduring mark on the future history of the Pacific Isles.
Mr Brown gave us many most interesting details of all he had seen in New
Britain, and of the country and people—none of which I have time to tell
you, as the mail closes to-day. Good-bye.
* * * * *
NASOVA, _June 25, 1877_.
DEAR JEAN,—I have just returned from a pleasant three days’ expedition
to the island of Wakaya, which is so near here that the wonder is why we
have not been there long ago. It is the property of the late American
Consul, Dr Brewer, and is one of the best examples of a fairly prosperous
estate. Dr Brewer having most kindly placed his comfortable house at our
disposal for some days, Captain Stewart, R.E., made arrangements to take
another lady and myself across in his little yacht. We had a favouring
breeze, and a rough but rapid passage, and arrived in such good time
that we were able to start at once to climb a rocky hill, on the summit
of which formerly stood a fortified town, which is the chief point of
historic interest on the isle. For there was a deadly feud between
the people of Wakaya and those of Ovalau, which resulted in the total
extermination of the former, who finally took refuge in this stronghold,
until, driven to desperation, the chief and his wife together sprang over
the cliffs to avoid falling into the hands of their foes.
We wandered all about the beautiful hills, peering over crags and down
richly wooded ravines, and from every fresh point obtained exquisite
views of the wide calm Pacific Ocean, dotted with many isles. There were
ten different inhabited isles in sight, including the two very large
ones, and all were bathed in tones of ethereal blue and lilac. As we came
back through the forest, we gathered huge pods of a monstrous vine. They
were from three to four feet long, and resembled gigantic beans.[58]
I have brought them back to convince all gainsayers of the accurate
botanical research displayed in the good old story of Jack and the
Beanstalk. I mentioned this fact to a midshipman, to whom I have just
presented one of my beans, but I fear he thought I was making game of him!
The evening was so lovely that after supper we strolled down to the
beach, and sat beside a great bonfire of cocoa-nut shells, the refuse
of _coppra_ making. The ruddy glare lighted up the tall palm-trees,
mingling with the white light of the full moon; and the little wavelets
rippled on the sand, making a pleasant picture. In case you do not know
what _coppra_ is, I may as well explain that it is the kernel of the
cocoa-nut, which is dried in the sun and thus prepared for exportation to
the colonies, where it is subjected to such pressure as to extract the
oil. It forms one of the largest exports from the isles. The shells and
husks burn with so fierce a flame that they destroy any oven or machine
in which they are used as fuel; and though the husk would be valuable for
making fibre, it is not considered to pay sufficiently well to make it
worth while to import a machine. A rough-and-ready contrivance on a small
scale has, however, been started here, where a machine for combing out
the fibre is turned by the action of two mules, whose lives are spent in
continually walking on a tread-mill. I do not mean to imply that the same
animals are incessantly at work!
Next morning Mr Mackay, the overseer (who had already done much for our
entertainment, having killed the fatted fowl for supper, and shot a
beautiful half-tame peacock for our dinner), now put his Mexican saddle
on the donkey, and by turning over a flap, so as to bring both the great
stirrups on one side, improvised a very good side-saddle, on which we
rode by turns. We passed over wide extents of deserted cotton-fields,
formerly under careful cultivation, but abandoned owing to falling
prices, and the ravages of hurricanes.
One of the most promising experiments now is coffee-planting. We saw
coffee shrubs planted under the shade of cocoa-palms and bread-fruit
trees, at an altitude not exceeding seventy to a hundred feet. In both
these respects the practice here is at variance with all that I have
seen in Ceylon; yet this seems to be bearing an excellent crop, and the
example is already being followed on several plantations, and seems
likely to prove a success.[59]
At daybreak this morning I got a sketch of the fine old _eevie_ grove,
and at noon we started on our return, and arrived here in time for five
o’clock tea. H.M.S. Wolverine in harbour.
* * * * *
_July 1, 1877._
This morning H.M.S. Sapphire sailed for Sydney, taking Captain Olive, who
returns to England. He purposes, however, to return here and settle as a
planter, and hopes to buy part of Wakaya, the island from which we have
just returned.
* * * * *
_July 9._
I have had some pleasant expeditions to the reef the last few days,
collecting strange beautiful creatures for the children’s aquarium,
and also for a series of ruder aquariums—buckets and tubs. But it is
unsatisfactory work, for our loveliest creatures will die; and especially
we find that to introduce the smallest bit of beautiful coral is fatal—at
least, before it is wholly bleached in the sun. And you cannot think how
tempting it is to arrange miniature coral gardens of pink, blue, lemon
colour, and greenish corals of many different forms, and, if only for one
day, to watch the many coloured tiny fish playing among it in a great
glass globe. But this inevitably results in our finding most of them dead
next morning, whereas if we omit the coral the exquisite fish live for
many days.
* * * * *
_July 14, 1877._
We have for some days been very anxious about Dr Mayo (who, you will
remember, came out with us). He has been living chiefly at Khandavu, to
enforce the quarantine regulations on vessels calling there. A few days
ago he was brought to Levuka suffering very seriously from dysentery, and
was carried to the hospital. At first he seemed to improve; but clever
doctors are apt to prove bad patients, and the present instance has been
no exception. He became rapidly worse, and it has been decided that his
only chance of recovery lies in immediate change to the colonies; so he
was carried on board the Lyeemoon, which sailed for Sydney to-day.[60]
Mr Mitchell also started. He goes to Calcutta to make arrangements about
providing coolie labour for Fiji. He hopes to be able to look after Dr
Mayo, but is himself suffering severely from fever. Dr Mayo’s English
servant came to him from Savu Savu on hearing of his illness, but he made
him return at once to take care of his little island, with the unfinished
house and the shrubs, which he has imported with so much care.
* * * * *
_July 20, 1877._
We have been revelling in the most heavenly weather. But as the
thermometer has been down to 67° Fahr., a thing almost unprecedented in
the tropics, of course every creature, white and brown, has got cold,
cough, influenza, and we are all shivering in our English winter clothes.
I have been suffering from my very first experience of Fijian sores,
which are the curse of the land. I was on the reef catching the most
exquisite tiny fish for the aquarium—pale-blue, dark-blue, bright-green,
bands of black and white, but especially gold, with sky-blue collar—when,
incautiously slipping my hand under a rock ledge, a horrid great sea-eel,
called the _dabea_, which lives in the coral, darted out and tried to
swallow my little finger. Happily it failed to bite it off, and I was
able to drag back my hand, but it bled very much. I came home at once and
soaked it in salt and brandy for fear of poison—a painful but efficacious
remedy. I think the finger is going on all right.
The wonder to me is that we do not hear of more frequent accidents,
considering the manner in which the unshod natives are for ever walking
on the reef, or swimming round ledges haunted by dangerous biting and
stinging sea-beasts. The worst accidents I have heard of lately happened
on the isles of Lakemba and Cicia.
At the former a girl was diving for clam-shells, and seeing a very large
one wide open, she extended her arms intending to encircle it, and so
attempt to raise it. But missing her aim, she plunged her hand into it,
instead of beneath it. In an instant it closed, and she was held prisoner
(you know a clam is a strong dentated bivalve, sometimes of enormous
weight). Her companions wondered at her staying below so long, and at
last dived in search of her, and found her dead body.
The other sad accident happened at Cicia, where a girl was on the
coral-reef catching crabs and other treasures of the sea, and
incautiously slipped her hand into a hole in the rock. By no possible
means could she succeed in drawing it out again. Her companions were
utterly unable to help her, and there the poor girl was kept, while
gradually the tide rose and closed over her, and she too was drowned.
Imagine the horror of feeling the tide slowly but steadily creeping up,
and awaiting a certain death.
I hope to see this isle of Cicia (pronounced Thithia) next week, as I
have just made arrangements for a visit to the Windward Islands, which
are the most easterly of the many groups into which the 223 Fijian isles
naturally divide themselves. The two chief points of attraction are Loma
Loma, which is the capital of the great Tongan chief, Maafu, and the isle
of Mago, which is the pattern plantation of Fiji, and is the exclusive
property of Mr Ryder and his six sons, who all live on the island, and
themselves attend to every detail of their own business, with the happy
result, that throughout the most troublous times they have never ceased
to flourish. Every one tells me that my ideas of Fiji will be most
incomplete till I have seen Mago, and also Nandi, on Viti Levu. So the
first omission is now to be rectified, and the second as soon as occasion
presents itself. Accordingly next week, when Mr Ryder returns home, I am
to accompany him, and see various places of interest on the way.
I am sitting under the shadow of a tall group of plantains. Now the sun
has set, and I am writing by moonlight, sitting on the grass, which in
such cold weather is scarcely prudent. So good night.