THE FLOATING OF THE "DAYSPRING."
RESCUED from Tanna by the _Blue Bell_ in the Spring of 1869, I was
landed on Aneityum, leaving behind me all that I owned on Earth, save
the clothes upon my back, my precious Bible, and a few translations that
I had made from it into the Tannese language. The Missionaries on
Aneitymn united in urging me to go to Australia in the interests of our
Mission. A Mission Ship was sorely needed--was absolutely required--to
prevent the needless sacrifice of devoted lives. More Missionaries were
called for, and must somehow be brought into the field, unless the hope
of claiming these fair Islands for Jesus was to be forever abandoned.
With unaffected reluctance, I at last felt constrained to undertake this
unwelcome but apparently inevitable task. It meant the leaving of my
dear Islanders for a season; but it embraced within it the hope of
returning to them again, with perhaps every power of blessing amongst
them tenfold increased.
A _Sandal-wooder,_ then lying at Aneityum, was to sail in a few days
direct for Sydney. My passage was secured for £10. And, as if to make me
realize how bare the Lord had stripped me in my late trials, the first
thing that occupied me on board was the making with my own hands, from a
piece of cloth obtained on Aneityum, another shirt for the voyage, to
change with that which I wore--the only one that had been left to me.
The Captain proved to be a profane and brutal fellow. And how my heart
bled for some poor Islanders whom he had on board! They knew not a word
of English, and no one in the vessel knew a sound of their language.
They were made to work, and to understand what was expected of them,
only by hard knocks and blows, being pushed and pulled hither and
thither. They were kept quite naked on the voyage up; but, when nearing
Sydney, each received two yards of calico to be twisted as a kilt around
his loins. A most pathetic spectacle it was to watch these poor
Natives,--when they had leisure to sit on deck,--gazing, gazing,
intently and imploringly, upon the face of the Sun! This they did every
day, and at all hours, and I wept much to look on them, and not be able
to tell them of the Son of God, the Light of the world, for I knew no
word of their language. Perhaps they were worshipers of the Sun; and
perhaps, amid all their misery, oh, _perhaps,_ some ray of truth from
the great Father of Lights may have streamed into those darkened souls!
When we arrived at Sydney the Inspecting Officer of the Government,
coming on board, asked how these Islanders came to be there. The Captain
impudently replied that they were "passengers." No further question was
put. No other evidence was sought. Yet all who knew anything of our
South-Sea Island Traders were perfectly aware that the moral certainty
was that these Natives were there practically as Slaves. They would be
privately disposed of by the Captain to the-highest bidder; and that,
forsooth, is to be called the _Labor_ Traffic,--_Free_ Labor! I will, to
my dying breath, denounce and curse this _Kanaka_ traffic as the worst
of Slavery.
As we came to anchorage, about midnight, in Sydney Harbor, I anxiously
paced the deck, gazing towards the gas-lighted city, and pleading with
God to open up my way, and give success in the work before me, on which
the salvation of thousands of the Heathen might depend. Still I saw them
perishing, still heard their wailing cry on the Islands behind me. At
the same time, I knew not a soul in that great city; though I had a note
of introduction to one person, which, as experience proved, I would have
been better without.
That friend, however, did his best. He kindly called with me on a number
of Ministers and others. They heard my story, sympathized with me, shook
hands, and wished me success; but, strangely enough, something "very
special" prevented every one of them from giving me access to his pulpit
or Sabbath School. At length I felt so disappointed, so miserable, that
I wished I had been in my grave with my dear departed, and my brethren
on the Islands, who had fallen around me, in order that the work on
which so much now appeared to depend might have been entrusted to some
one better fitted to accomplish it. The heart seemed to keep repeating,
"All these things are against thee."
Finding out at last the Rev. A. Buzacott, then retired, but formerly the
successful and honored representative of the London Missionary Society
on Rarotonga, considerable light was let in upon the mystery of my last
week's experiences. He informed me that the highly-esteemed friend, who
had kindly been introducing me all round, was at that moment immersed in
a keen Newspaper war with Presbyterians and Independents. This made it
painfully manifest that, in order to succeed, I must strike out a new
course for myself, and one clear from all local entanglement.
Paying a fortnight in advance, I withdrew even from the lodging I had
taken, and turned to the Lord more absolutely for guidance. He brought
me into contact with good and generous-souled servants of His, the
open-hearted Mr. and Mrs. Foss. Though entire strangers, they kindly
invited me to be their guest while in Sydney, assuring me that I would
meet with many Ministers and other Christians at their house who could
help me in my work. God had opened the door; I entered with a grateful
heart; they will not miss their recompense.
A letter and appeal had been already printed on behalf of our Mission. I
now re-cast and reprinted it, adding a postscript, and appending my own
name and address. This was widely circulated among Ministers and others
engaged in Christian work; and by this means, and by letters in the
newspapers, I did everything in my power to make our Mission known. But
one week had passed, and no response came. One Lord's Day had gone by,
and no pulpit had been opened to me. I was perplexed beyond measure how
to get access to Congregations and Sabbath Schools; though a something
deep in my soul assured me, that if once my lips were opened, the Word
of the Lord would not return void.
On my second Sabbath in Sydney I wandered out with a great yearning at
heart to get telling my message to any soul that would listen. It was
the afternoon; and children were flocking into a Church that I passed. I
followed them--that yearning growing stronger every moment. My God so
ordered it that I was guided thus to the Chalmers Presbyterian Church.
The Minister, the Rev. Mr. M'Skimming, addressed the children. At the
close I went up and pleaded with him to allow me ten minutes to speak to
them. After a little hesitation, and having consulted together, they
gave me fifteen minutes. Becoming deeply interested, the good man
invited me to preach to his Congregation in the evening. This was duly
intimated in the Sabbath School; and thus my little boat was at last
launched--surely by the hand of the dear Lord, with the help of His
little children.