A NATIVE SAINT AND MARTYR.
NAMUEI, one of my Aneityumese Teachers, was placed at our nearest
village. There he had built a house for himself and his wife, and there
he led amongst the Heathen a pure and humble Christian life. Almost
every morning he came and reported on the state of affairs to me.
Without books or a school, he yet instructed the Natives in Divine
things, conducted the worship, and taught them much by his good example.
His influence was increasing, when one morning a Sacred Man threw at him
the _kawas_ or killing-stone, a deadly weapon like a scythe stone in
shape and thickness, usually round but sometimes angular, and from
eighteen to twenty inches long. They throw it from a great distance and
with fatal precision. The Teacher, with great agility, warded his head
and received the deep cut from it in his left hand, reserving his right
hand to guard against the club that was certain to follow swiftly. The
Priest sprang upon him with his club and with savage yells. He evaded,
yet also received, many blows; and, rushing out of their hands, actually
reached the Mission House, bleeding, fainting, and pursued by howling
murderers. I had been anxiously expecting him, and hearing the noise I
ran out with all possible speed.
On seeing me, he sank down by a tree, and cried, "Missi, Missi, quick!
and escape for your life! They are coming to kill you; they say they
must kill us all to-day, and they have begun with me; for they hate
Jehovah and the Worship!"
I hastened to the good Teacher where he lay; I bound up, washed, and
dressed his wounds; and God, by the mystery of His own working, kept the
infuriated Tannese watching at bay. Gradually they began to disappear
into the bush, and we conveyed the dear Teacher to the Mission House. In
three or four weeks, he so far recovered by careful nursing that he was
able to walk about again. Some petitioned for him to return to the
village; but I insisted, as a preliminary, that the Harbor Chiefs should
unitedly punish him who had abused the Teacher; and this to test them,
for he had only carried out their own wishes,--Nowar excepted, and
perhaps one or two others. They made a pretense of atoning by presenting
the Teacher with a pig and some yams as a peace-offering; but I said,
"No! Such bad conduct must be punished, or we would leave their island
by the first opportunity."
Now that Sacred Man, a Chief too, had gone on fighting with other
tribes, till his followers had all died or been slain; and, after three
weeks' palaver, the other Chiefs seized him, tied him with a rope, and
sent me word to come and see him punished, as they did not want us after
all to leave the island. I had to go, for fear of more bloody work, and
after talk with them, followed by many fair promises, he was loosed.
All appearing friendly for some time, and willing to listen and learn,
the Teacher earnestly desired to return to his post. I pled with him to
remain at the Mission House till we felt more assured, but he replied,
"Missi, when I see them thirsting for my blood, I just see myself when
the Missionary first came to my island. I desired to murder him, as they
now desire to kill me. Had he stayed away for such danger, I would have
remained Heathen; but he came, and continued coming to teach us, till,
by the grace of God, I was changed to what I am. Now the same God that
changed me to this can change these poor Tannese to love and serve Him.
I cannot stay away from them; but I will sleep at the Mission House, and
do all I can by day to bring them to Jesus."
It was not in me to keep such a man, under such motives, from what he
felt to be his post of duty. He returned to his village work, and for
several weeks things appeared most encouraging. The inhabitants showed
growing interest in us and our work, and less fear of the pretensions of
their Heathen Priest, which, alas! fed his jealousy and anger. One
morning during worship, when the good Teacher knelt in prayer, the same
savage Priest sprang upon him with his great club and left him for dead,
wounded and bleeding and unconscious. The people fled and left him in
his blood, afraid of being mixed up with the murder. The Teacher,
recovering a little, crawled to the Mission House, and reached it about
midday in a dying condition. On seeing him, I ran to meet him, but he
fell near the Teacher's house, saying, "Missi, I am dying! They will
kill you also. Escape for your life."
Trying to console him, I sat down beside him, dressing his wounds and
nursing him. He was quite resigned; he was looking up to Jesus, and
rejoicing that he would soon be with Him in Glory. His pain and
suffering were great but he bore all very quietly, as he said and kept
saying, "For the sake of Jesus! For Jesu's sake!" He was constantly
praying for his persecutors, "O Lord Jesus, forgive them, for they know
not what they are doing. Oh, take not away all Thy servants from Tanna!
Take not away Thy Worship from this dark island! O God, bring all the
Tannese to love and follow Jesus!"
To him, Jesus was all and in all; and there were no bands in his death.
He passed from us, in the assured hope of entering into the Glory of his
Lord. Humble though he may appear in the world's esteem, I knew that a
great man had fallen there in the service of Christ, and that he would
take rank in the glorious Army of the Martyrs. I made for him a coffin,
and dug his grave near the Mission House. With prayers, and many tears,
we consigned his remains to the dust in the certainty of a happy
resurrection. Even one such convert was surely a triumphant reward for
the Missionaries, whom God had honored in bringing him to Jesus. May
they have many like Namuri for their crown of joy and rejoicing in the
great day!