THE BEGINNING OF THE END.
I SENT Abraham to consult Nowar, who had defended us till disabled by a
spear in the right knee. He sent a canoe by Abraham, advising me to take
some of my goods in it to his house by night, and he would try to
protect them and us. The risk was so great we could only take a very
little. Enemies were on every hand to cut off our flight, and Miaki, the
worst of all, whose village had to be passed in going to Nowar's. In the
darkness of the Mission House, we durst not light a candle for fear of
some one seeing and shooting us. Not one of Nowar's men durst come to
help us. But in the end it made no difference, for Nowar and his men
kept what was taken there, as their portion of the plunder. Abraham, his
wife, and I waited anxiously for the morning light. Miaki, the false and
cruel, came to assure us that the Heathen would not return that day.
Yet, as daylight came in, Miaki himself stood and blew a great conch not
far from our house. I ran out to see why this trumpet-shell had been
blown, and found it was the signal for a great company of howling armed
savages to rush down the hill on the other side of the bay and make
straight for the Mission House. We had not a moment to lose. To have
remained would have been certain death to us all, and also to Matthew, a
Teacher just arrived from Mr. Mathieson's Station. Though I am by
conviction a strong Calvinist, I am no Fatalist. I held on while one
gleam of hope remained. Escape for life was now the only path of duty. I
called the Teachers, locked the door, and made quickly for Nowar's
village. There was not a moment left to carry anything with us. In the
issue, Abraham and his wife and I lost all our earthly goods, and all
our clothing except what we had on. My Bible, the few translations which
I had made into Tannese, and a light pair of blankets I carried with me.
We durst not choose the usual path along the beach, for there our
enemies would have quickly overtaken us. We entered the bush in the hope
of getting away unobserved. But a cousin of Miaki, evidently secreted to
watch us, sprang from behind a breadfruit tree, and swinging his
tomahawk, aimed it at my brow with a fiendish look. Avoiding it I turned
upon him and said in a firm bold voice, "If you dare to strike me, my
Jehovah God will punish you. He is here to defend me now!"
The man, trembling, looked all round as if to see the God who was my
defender, and the tomahawk gradually lowered at his side. With my eye
fixed upon him, I gradually moved backwards in the track of the
Teachers, and God mercifully restrained him from following me.
On reaching Nowar's village unobserved, we found the people
terror-stricken, crying, rushing about in despair at such a host of
armed savages approaching. I urged them to ply their axes, cut down
trees, and blockade the path. For a little they wrought vigorously at
this; but when, so far as eye could reach, they saw the shore covered
with armed men rushing on towards their village, they were overwhelmed
with fear, they threw away their axes and weapons of war, they cast
themselves headlong on the ground, and they knocked themselves against
the trees as if to court death before it came. They cried, "Missi, it's
of no use! We will all be killed and eaten to-day! See what a host are
coming against us."
Mothers snatched up little children and ran to hide in the bush. Others
waded as far as they could into the sea with them, holding their heads
above the water. The whole village collapsed in a condition of
indescribable terror. Nowar, lame with his wounded knee, got a canoe
turned upside-down and sat upon it where he could see the whole
approaching multitude. He said, "Missi, sit down beside me, and pray to
our Jehovah God, for if He does not send deliverance now, we are all
dead men. They will kill us all on your account, and that quickly. Pray,
and I will watch!"
They had gone to the Mission House and broken in the door, and finding
that we had escaped, they rushed on to Nowar's village. For, as they
began to plunder the bedroom, Nouka said, "Leave everything. Missi will
come back for his valuable things at night, and then we will get them
and him also!"
So he nailed up the door, and they all marched for Nowar's. We prayed as
one can only pray when in the jaws of death and on the brink of
Eternity. We felt that God was near, and omnipotent to do what seemed
best in His sight. When the savages were about three hundred yards off,
at the foot of a hill leading up to the village, Nowar touched my knee,
saying. "Missi, Jehovah is hearing! They are all standing still."
Had they come on they would have met with no opposition, for the people
were scattered in terror. On gazing shorewards, and round the Harbor, as
far as we could see, was a dense host of warriors, but all were standing
still, and apparently absolute silence prevailed. We saw a messenger or
herald running along the approaching multitude, delivering some tidings
as he passed, and then disappearing in the bush. To our amazement, the
host began to turn, and slowly marched back in great silence, and
entered the remote bush at the head of the Harbor. Nowar and his people
were in ecstasies, crying out, "Jehovah has heard Missi's prayer!
Jehovah has protected us and turned them away back."
About midday, Nouka and Miaki sent their cousin Jonas, who had always
been friendly to me, to say that I might return to my house in safety,
as they were now carrying the war inland. Jonas had spent some years on
Samoa, and been much with Traders in Sydney, and spoke English well; but
we felt they were deceiving us. Next night, Abraham ventured to creep
near the Mission House, to test whether we might return, and save some
valuable things, and get a change of clothing. The house appeared to
stand as when they nailed up the door. But a large party of Miaki's
allies at once enclosed Abraham, and, after asking many questions about
me, they let him go since I was not there. Had I gone there they would
certainly that night have killed me. Again, at midnight Abraham and his
wife and Matthew went to the Mission House, and found Nouka, Miaki, and
Karewick near by, concealed in the bush among the reeds. Once more they
enclosed them, thinking I was there too, but Nouka, finding that I was
not, cried out, "Don't kill them just now! Wait till Missi comes."
Hearing this, Matthew slipped into the bush and escaped. Abraham's wife
waded into the sea, and they allowed her to get away. Abraham was
allowed to go to the Mission House, but he too crept into the bush, and
after an anxious waiting they all came back to me in safety. We now gave
up all hope of recovering anything from the house.
Towards morning, when Miaki and his men saw that I was not coming back
to deliver myself into their hands, they broke up my house and stole all
they could carry away. They tore my books, and scattered them about.
They took away the type of my printing-press, to be made into bullets
for their muskets. For similar uses they melted down the zinc lining of
my boxes, and everything else that could be melted. What they could not
take away, they destroyed.
As the night advanced, Nowar declared that I must leave his village
before morning, else he and his people would be killed for protecting
me. He advised me, as the sea was good, to try for Mr. Mathieson's
Station; but he objected to my taking away any of my property--he would
soon follow with it himself! But how to sail? Miaki had stolen my boat,
mast, sails, and oars, as also an excellent canoe made for me and paid
for by me on Aneityum; and he had threatened to shoot any person that
assisted me to launch either the one or the other. The danger still
increasing, Nowar said, "You cannot remain longer in my house! My son
will guide you to the large chestnut tree in my plantation in the bush.
Climb up into it, and remain there till the moon rises."
Being entirely at the mercy of such doubtful and vacillating friends, I,
though perplexed, felt it best to obey. I climbed into the tree, and was
left there alone in the bush. The hours I spent there live all before me
as if it were but of yesterday. I heard the frequent discharging of
muskets, and the yells of the savages. Yet I sat there among the
branches, as safe in the arms of Jesus. Never, in all my sorrows, did my
Lord draw nearer to me, and speak more soothingly in my soul, than when
the moonlight flickered among these chestnut leaves, and the night air
played on my throbbing brow, as I told all my heart to Jesus. Alone, yet
not alone! If it be to glorify my God, I will not grudge to spend many
nights alone in such a tree, to feel again my Saviour's spiritual
presence, to enjoy His consoling fellowship. If thus thrown back upon
your own soul, alone, all, all alone, in the midnight, in the bush, in
the very embrace of death itself, have you a Friend that will not fail
you then?