_FACE TO FACE WITH HEATHENISM._
Navalak and Nemeyan on Aniwa.—Taia the “Orator.”—The Two next
Aneityumese Teachers.—In the Arms of Murderers.—Our First Aniwan
Converts.—Litsi Soré.—Surrounded by Torches.—Traditions of Creation,
Fall, and Deluge.— Infanticide and Wife-Murder.—Last Heathen
Dance.—Nelwang’s Elopement.—Yakin’s Bridal Attire.—Christ-Spirit
_versus_ War-Spirit.—Heathenism in Death-Grips.—A Great Aniwan
Palaver.—The Sinking of the Well.—“Missi’s Head Gone Wrong.”—“Water!
Living Water!”—Old Chief’s Sermon on “Rain from Below.”—The Idols
Cast Away.—The New Social Order.—Back of Heathenism Broken.
On landing in November, 1866, we found the Natives of Aniwa, some very
shy and distrustful, and others forward and imperious. No clothing
was worn; but the wives and elder women had grass aprons or girdles
like our first Parents in Eden. The old Chief interested himself in
us and our work; but the greater number showed a far deeper interest
in the axes, knives, fish-hooks, stripes of red calico and blankets,
received in payment for work or for bananas. Even for payment they
would scarcely work at first, and they were most unreasonable, easily
offended, and started off in a moment at any imaginable slight.
For instance, a Chief once came for Medicine. I was so engaged that I
could not attend to him for a few minutes. So off he went, in a great
rage, threatening revenge, and muttering, “I must be attended to! I
won’t wait on _him_.” Such are the exactions of a naked Savage!
Shortly before our arrival, an Aneityumese Teacher was sacrificed on
Aniwa. The circumstances are illustrative of what may be almost called
their worship of revenge. Many long years ago, a party of Aniwans had
gone to Aneityum on a friendly visit; but the Aneityumese, then all
Savages, murdered and ate every man of them save one, who escaped
into the bush. Living on cocoa-nuts, he awaited a favourable wind,
and, launching his canoe by night, he arrived in safety. The bereaved
Aniwans, hearing his terrible story, were furious for revenge; but the
forty-five miles of sea between proving too hard an obstacle, they made
a deep cut in the earth and vowed to renew that cut from year to year
till the day of revenge came round. Thus the memory of the event was
kept alive for nearly eighty years.
At length the people of Aneityum came to the knowledge of Jesus
Christ. They strongly yearned to spread that saving Gospel to the
Heathen Islands all around. Amid prayers and strong cryings to God
they, like the Church at Antioch, designated two of their leading men
to go as Native Teachers and evangelize Aniwa, viz., Navalak and
Nemeyan; whilst others went forth to Fotuna, Tanna, and Erromanga, as
opportunity arose. Namakei, the principal Chief of Aniwa, had promised
to protect and be kind to them. But as time went on, it was discovered
that the Teachers belonged to the Tribe on Aneityum, and one of them
to the very land, where long ago the Aniwans had been murdered. The
Teachers had from the first known their danger, but were eager to make
known the Gospel to Aniwa. It was resolved that they should die. But
the Aniwans, having promised to protect them, shrank from doing it
themselves; so they hired two Tanna men and an Aniwan Chief, one of
whose parents had belonged to Tanna, to waylay and shoot the Teachers
as they returned from their tour of Evangelism among the villages on
Sabbath afternoon. Their muskets did not go off, but the murderers
rushed upon them with clubs and left them for dead.
Nemeyan was dead, and entered that day amongst the noble army of the
Martyrs. Poor Navalak was still breathing, and the Chief Namakei
carried him to his village and kindly nursed him. He pled with the
people that the claims of revenge had been satisfied, and that Navalak
should be cherished and sent home,—the Christ-Spirit beginning to work
in that darkened soul! Navalak was restored to his people, and is yet
living—a high-class Chief on Aneityum and an honour to the Church of
God, bearing on his body “the marks of the Lord Jesus.” And often
since has he visited Aniwa, in later years, and praised the Lord
amongst the very people who once thirsted for his blood and left him by
the wayside as good as dead!
For a time, Aniwa was left without any witness for Jesus,—the London
Missionary Society Teachers, having suffered dreadfully for lack of
food and from fever and ague, being also removed. But on a visit of a
Mission vessel, Namakei sent his orator Taia to Aneityum, to tell them
that now revenge was satisfied, the cut in the earth filled up, and a
cocoa-nut tree planted and flourishing where the blood of the Teachers
had been shed, and that no person from Aneityum would ever be injured
by Aniwans. Further, he was to plead for more Teachers, and to pledge
his Chief’s word that they would be kindly received and protected. They
knew not the Gospel, and had no desire for it; but they wanted friendly
intercourse with Aneityum, where trading vessels called, and whence
they might obtain mats, baskets, blankets, and iron tools. At length
two Aneityumese again volunteered to go, Kangaru and Nelmai, one from
each side of the Island, and were located by the Missionaries, along
with their families, on Aniwa, one with Namakei, and the other at the
south end, to lift up the Standard of a Christlike life among their
Heathen neighbours.
Taia, who went on the Mission to Aneityum, was a great speaker and
also a very cunning man. He was the old Chief’s appointed “Orator” on
all state occasions, being tall and stately in appearance, of great
bodily strength, and possessed of a winning manner. On the voyage to
Aneityum, he was constantly smoking and making things disagreeable to
all around him. Being advised not to smoke while on board, he pled
with the Missionary just to let him take a whiff now and again till
he finished the tobacco he had in his pipe, and then he would lay it
aside. But, like the widow’s meal, it lasted all the way to Aneityum,
and never appeared to get less—at which the innocent Taia expressed
much astonishment!
The two Teachers and their wives on Aniwa were little better than
slaves when we landed there, toiling in the service of their masters
and living in constant fear of being murdered. They conducted the
Worship in Aneityumese, while the Aniwans lay smoking and talking
all round till it was over. The language of Aniwa had never yet been
reduced to a written form, and consequently no book had been printed
in it. The Teachers and their wives were kept hard at work on Friday
and Saturday, cooking and preparing food for the Aniwans, who, after
the so-called Worship, feasted together and had a friendly talk. We
immediately put an end to this Sabbath feasting. That made them angry
and revengeful. They even demanded food, etc., in payment for coming to
the Worship, which we always resolutely refused. Doubtless, however,
the mighty contrast presented by the life, character, and disposition
of these godly Teachers was the sowing of the seed that bore fruit in
other days,—though as yet no single Aniwan had begun to wear clothing
out of respect to Civilization, much less been brought to know and love
the Saviour.
I could now speak a little to them in their own language; and so,
accompanied generally by my dear wife and by an Aneityumese Teacher,
and often by some friendly Native, I began to visit regularly at their
villages and to talk to them about Jesus and His love. We tried also
to get them to come to our Church under the shade of the banyan tree.
Nasi and some of the worst characters would sit scowling not far off,
or follow us with loaded muskets. Using every precaution, we still held
on doing our work; sometimes giving fish-hooks or beads to the boys and
girls, showing them that our objects were kind and not selfish. Such
visits gained their confidence.
And however our hearts sometimes trembled in the presence of imminent
death and sank within us, we stood fearless in their presence, and left
all results in the hands of Jesus. Often have I had to run into the
arms of some savage, when his club was swung or his musket levelled
at my head, and, praying to Jesus, so clung round him that he could
neither strike nor shoot me till his wrath cooled down and I managed
to slip away. Often have I seized the pointed barrel and directed it
upwards, or, pleading with my assailant, uncapped his musket in the
struggle. At other times, nothing could be said, nothing done, but
stand still in silent prayer, asking God to protect us or to prepare
us for going home to His Glory. He fulfilled His own promise,—“I will
not fail thee nor forsake thee.”
[Illustration: I WANT YOU TO TRAIN LITSI FOR JESUS.]
The first Aniwan that ever came to the knowledge and love of Jesus was
the old Chief Namakei. We came to live on his land, as it was near our
diminutive harbour; and upon the whole, he and his people were the most
friendly; though his only brother, the Sacred Man of the tribe, on two
occasions tried to shoot me. Namakei came a good deal about us at the
Mission House, and helped us to acquire the language. He discovered
that we took tea evening and morning. When we gave him a cup and a
piece of bread, he liked it well, and gave a sip to all around him. At
first he came for the tea, perhaps, and disappeared suspiciously soon
thereafter; but his interest manifestly grew, till he showed great
delight in helping us in every possible way. Along with him, and as his
associates, came also the Chief Naswai and his wife Katua. These three
grew into the knowledge of the Saviour together. From being savage
Cannibals they rose before our eyes, under the influence of the Gospel,
into noble and beloved characters; and they and we loved each other
exceedingly.
Namakei brought his little daughter, his only child, the Queen of her
race, called Litsi Soré (= Litsi the Great), and said,—
“I want to leave my Litsi with you. I want you to train her for Jesus.”
She was a very intelligent child, learned things like any white girl,
and soon became quite a help to Mrs. Paton. On seeing his niece dressed
and so smart-looking, the old Chief’s only brother, the Sacred Man
that had attempted to shoot me, also brought his child, Litsi Sisi (=
the Little) to be trained like her cousin. The mothers of both were
dead. The children reported all they saw, and all we taught them, and
so their fathers became more deeply interested in our work, and the
news of the Gospel spread far and wide. Soon we had all the Orphans
committed to us, whose guardians were willing to part with them, and
our Home became literally _the School of Christ_,—the boys growing up
to help all my plans, and the girls to help my wife and to be civilized
and trained by her, and many of them developing into devoted Teachers
and Evangelists.
Our earlier Sabbath Services were sad affairs. Every man came
armed—indeed, every man slept with his weapons of war at his side—and
bow and arrow, spear and tomahawk, club and musket, were always ready
for action. On fair days we assembled under the banyan tree, on rainy
days in a Native hut partly built for the purpose. One or two seemed
to listen, but the most lay about on their backs or sides, smoking,
talking, sleeping! When we stopped the feast at the close, for which
they were always ready, the audiences at first went down to two or
three; but these actually came to learn, and a better tone began
immediately to pervade the Service. We informed them that it was for
their good that we taught them, and that they would get no “pay” for
attending Church or School, and the greater number departed in high
dudgeon as very ill-used persons! Others of a more commercial turn came
offering to sell their “idols,” and when we would not purchase them but
urged them to give them up and cast them away for love to Jesus, they
carried them off saying they would have nothing to do with this new
Worship.
Amidst our frequent trials and dangers in those earlier times on Aniwa,
our little Orphans often warned us privately and saved our lives from
cruel plots. When, in baffled rage, our enemies demanded who had
revealed things to us, I always said, “It was a little bird from the
bush.” So, the dear children grew to have perfect confidence in us.
They knew we would not betray them; and they considered themselves the
guardians of our lives.
The excitement increased on both sides, when a few men openly gave up
their idols. Morning after morning, I noticed green cocoa-nut leaves
piled at the end of our house, and wondered if it were through some
Heathen superstition. But one night the old Chief knocked upon me and
said,—
“Rise, Missi, and help! The Heathen are trying to burn your house. All
night we have kept them off, but they are many and we are few. Rise
quickly, and light a lamp at every window. Let us pray to Jehovah, and
talk loud as if we were many. God will make us strong.”
I found that they had the buckets and pails from all my Premises full
of water,—that the surrounding bush was swarming with Savages, torch in
hand,—that the Teachers and other friendly Natives had been protecting
themselves from the dews under the large cocoa-nut leaves which I saw,
while they kept watch over us. After that I took my turn with them in
watching, each guard being changed after so many hours. But they held a
meeting and said amongst each other,—
“If our Missi is shot or killed in the dark, what will we have to watch
for then? We must compel Missi to remain indoors at night!”
I yielded so far to their counsel; but still went amongst them, watch
after watch, to encourage them.
What a suggestive tradition of the Fall came to me in one of those
early days on Aniwa! Upon our leaving the hut and removing to our new
house, it was seized upon by Tupa for his sleeping place; though still
continuing to be used by the Natives, as club-house, court of law,
etc. One morning at daylight this Tupa came running to us in great
excitement, wielding his club furiously, and crying,—
“Missi, I have killed the Tebil. I have killed Teapolo. He came to
catch me last night. I raised all the people, and we fought him round
the house with our clubs. At daybreak he came out and I killed him
dead. We will have no more bad conduct or trouble now. Teapolo is dead!”
I said, “What nonsense! Teapolo is a spirit, and cannot be seen.”
But in mad excitement he persisted that he had killed him. And at Mrs.
Paton’s advice, I went with the man, and he led me to a great Sacred
Rock of coral near our old hut, over which hung the dead body of a huge
and beautiful sea-serpent, and exclaimed,—
“There he lies! Truly I killed him.”
I protested: “That is not the Devil; it is only the body of a serpent.”
The man quickly answered, “Well, but it is all the same! He is Teapolo.
He makes us bad, and causes all our troubles.”
Following up this hint by many inquiries, then and afterwards, I found
that they clearly associated man’s troubles and sufferings somehow
with the serpent. They worshipped the Serpent, as a spirit of evil,
under the name of Matshiktshiki; that is to say, they lived in abject
terror of his influence, and all their worship was directed towards
propitiating his rage against men.
Their story of Creation, at least of the origin of their own Aniwa
and the adjacent Islands, is much more an outcome of the Native mind.
They say that Matshiktshiki fished up these lands out of the sea. And
they show the deep print of his foot on the coral rocks, opposite each
island, whereon he stood as he strained and lifted them up above the
waters. He then threw his great fishing-line round Fotuna, thirty-six
miles distant, to draw it close to Aniwa and make them one land; but,
as he pulled, the line broke and he fell into the sea,—so the Islands
remain separated unto this day.
Matshiktshiki placed men and women on Aniwa. On the southern end of
the Island, there was a beautiful spring and a freshwater river, with
rich lands all around for plantations. But the people would not do what
Matshiktshiki wanted them; so he got angry, and split off the richer
part of Aniwa, with the spring and river, and sailed thence across to
Aneityum,—leaving them where Dr. Inglis has since built his beautiful
Mission Station. To this day, the river there is called “the water of
Aniwa” by the inhabitants of both Islands; and it is the ambition of
all Aniwans to visit Aneityum and drink of that spring and river, as
they sigh to each other,—
“Alas, for the waters of Aniwa!”
Their picture of the Flood is equally grotesque. Far back, when the
volcano, now on Tanna, was part of Aniwa, the rain fell and fell from
day to day, and the sea rose till it threatened to cover everything.
All were drowned except the few who climbed up on the volcano mountain.
The sea had already put out the volcano at the southern end of Aniwa;
and Matshiktshiki, who dwelt in the greater volcano, becoming afraid
of the extinction of his big fire too, split it off from Aniwa with
all the land on the south-eastern side, and sailed it across to Tanna
on the top of the flood. There, by his mighty strength, he heaved
the volcano to the top of the highest mountain of Tanna, where it
remains to this day. For, on the subsiding of the sea, he was unable to
transfer his big fire to Aniwa; and so it was reduced to a very small
island, without a volcano, and without a river, for the sins of the
people long ago.
Even where there are no snakes they apply the superstitions about the
serpent to a large, black, poisonous lizard called _kekvau_. They call
it Teapolo’s; and women or children scream wildly at the sight of one.
The Natives of several of our Islands have the form of the lizard, as
also of the snake and the bird and the face of man, cut deep into the
flesh of their arms. When the cuts begin to heal, they tear open the
figures and press back the skin and force out the flesh, till the forms
stand out above the skin and abide there as a visible horror for all
their remaining days. When they become Christians and put on clothing,
they are very anxious to cover these reminders of Heathenism from
public view.
The darkest and most hideous blot on Heathenism is the practice of
Infanticide. Only three cases came to our knowledge on Aniwa; but we
publicly denounced them at all hazards, and awoke not only natural
feeling, but the selfish interests of the community for the protection
of the children. These three were the last that died there by parents’
hands. A young husband, who had been jealous of his wife, buried their
male child alive as soon as born. An old Tanna woman, who had no
children living, having at last a fine healthy boy born to her, threw
him into the sea before any one could interfere to save. And a Savage,
in anger with his wife, snatched her baby from her arms, hid himself in
the bush till night, and returned without the child, refusing to give
any explanation, except that he was dead and buried. Praise be to God,
these three murderers of their own children were by-and-bye touched
with the story of Jesus, became members of the Church, and each adopted
little orphan children, towards whom they continued to show the most
tender affection and care.
Wife murder was also considered quite legitimate. In one of our inland
villages dwelt a young couple, happy in every respect except that
they had no children. The man, being a Heathen, resolved to take home
another wife, a widow with two children. This was naturally opposed
by his young wife. And, without the slightest warning, while she sat
plaiting a basket, he discharged a ball into her from his loaded
musket. It crashed through her arm and lodged in her side. Everything
was done that was in my power to save her life; but on the tenth day
tetanus came on, and she soon after passed away. The man appeared very
attentive to her all the time; but, being a Heathen, he insisted that
she had no right to oppose his wishes! He was not in any way punished
or disrespected by the people of his village, but went out and in
amongst them as usual, and took home the other woman as his wife a few
weeks thereafter. His second wife began to attend Church and School
regularly with her children; and at last he also came along with them,
changing very manifestly from his sullen and savage former self. They
have a large family; they are avowedly trying to train them all for the
Lord Jesus; and they take their places meekly at the Lord’s Table.
It would give a wonderful shock, I suppose, to many namby-pamby
Christians, to whom the title “Mighty to Save” conveys no ideas of
reality, to be told that nine or ten converted murderers were partaking
with them the Holy Communion of Jesus! But the Lord who reads the
heart, and weighs every motive and circumstance, has perhaps much more
reason to be shocked by the presence of some of themselves. Penitence
opens all the Heart of God—“To-day shalt thou be with Me in Paradise.”
Amongst the heathen, a murderer was often honoured; and if he succeeded
in terrifying those who ought to take revenge, he was sometimes even
promoted to be a Chief. One who had thus risen to tyrannize over his
village was so feared and obeyed, that one of the lads there said to
me,—
“Missi, I wish I had lived long ago! I could have murdered some great
man, and come to honour. As Christians, we have no prospects; where are
your warriors? Are we always to remain common men?”
I told him of greatness in the service of Jesus, of glory and honour
with our Lord. That lad afterwards became a Native Teacher, first in
his own village, and then on a Heathen Island,—the Lord the Spirit
having opened up for his ambition the nobler path.
The last Heathen Dance on Aniwa was intended, strange to say, in honour
of our work. We had finished the burning of a large lime-kiln for our
buildings, and the event was regarded as worthy of a festival. To our
surprise, loud bursts of song were followed by the tramp, tramp of many
feet. Men and women and children poured past us, painted, decorated
with feathers and bush twigs, and dressed in their own wildest
form, though almost entirely nude so far as regards the clothing of
civilization. They marched into the village Public Ground, and with
song and shout and dance made the air hideous to me. They danced in
inner and outer circles, men with men and women with women; but I do
not know that the thing looked more irrational to an outsider than
do the balls at home. Our Islanders, on becoming followers of Jesus,
have always _voluntarily_ withdrawn from all these scenes, and regard
such dancings as inconsistent with the presence and fellowship of the
Saviour.
On calling one of their leading men and asking him what it all meant,
he said,—
“Missi, we are rejoicing for you, singing and dancing to our gods for
you and your works.”
I told him that my Jehovah God would be angry at His Church being so
associated with Heathen gods. The poor bewildered soul look grieved,
and asked,—
“Is it not good, Missi? Are we not helping you?”
I said, “No! It is not good. I am shocked to see you. I come here to
teach you to give up all these ways, and to please the Jehovah God.”
He went and called away his wife and all his friends, and told them
that the Missi was displeased. But the others held on for hours, and
were much disgusted that I would not make them a feast and pay them for
dancing! No other dance was ever held near our Station on Aniwa.
Some most absurd and preposterous experiences were forced upon us by
the habits and notions of the people. Amongst these I recall very
vividly the story of Nelwang’s elopement with his bride. I had begun,
in spare hours, to lay the foundation of two additional rooms for our
house, and felt rather uneasy to see a well-known Savage hanging around
every day with his tomahawk, and eagerly watching me at work. He had
killed a man, before our arrival on Aniwa; and it was he that startled
my wife by suddenly appearing from amongst the boxes, and causing her
to run for life. On seeing him hovering so alarmingly near, tomahawk in
hand, I saluted him,—
“Nelwang, do you want to speak to me?”
“Yes, Missi,” he replied, “if you will help me now, I will be your
friend for ever.”
I answered, “I am your friend. That brought me here and keeps me here.”
“Yes,” said he very earnestly, “but I want you to be strong as my
friend, and I will be strong for you!”
I replied, “Well, how can I help you?”
He quickly answered, “I want to get married, and I need your help.”
I protested: “Nelwang, you know that marriages here are all made
in infancy, by children being bought and betrothed to their future
husbands. How can I interfere? You don’t want to bring evil on me and
my wife and child? It might cost us our lives.”
“No! no! Missi,” earnestly retorted Nelwang. “No one hears of this,
or can hear. Only help me now. You tell me, if you were in my
circumstances, how would you act?”
“That’s surely very simple,” I answered. “Every man knows how to
go about that business, if he wants to be honest! Look out for
your intended, find out if she loves you, and the rest will follow
naturally,—you will marry her.”
“Yes,” argued Nelwang, “but just there my trouble comes in!”
“Do you know the woman you would like to get?” I asked, wishing to
bring him to some closer issue.
“Yes,” replied he very frankly, “I want to marry Yakin, the chief widow
up at the inland village, and that will break no infant betrothals.”
“But,” I persevered, “do you know if she loves you or would take you?”
“Yes,” replied Nelwang; “one day I met her on the path and told her I
would like to have her for my wife. She took out her ear-rings and gave
them to me, and I know thereby that she loves me. I was one of her late
husband’s men; and if she had loved any of them more than she did me,
she would have given them to another. With the ear-rings she gave me
her heart.”
“Then why,” I insisted, “don’t you go and marry her?”
“There,” said Nelwang gravely, “begins my difficulty. In her village
there are thirty young men for whom there are no wives. Each of them
wants her, but no one has the courage to take her, for the other
nine-and-twenty will shoot him!”
“And if you take her,” I suggested, “the disappointed thirty will shoot
you.”
“That’s exactly what I see, Missi,” continued Nelwang; “but I want you
just to think you are in my place, and tell me how you would carry her
off. You white men can always succeed. Missi, hear my plans, and advise
me.”
With as serious a face as I could command, I had to listen to Nelwang,
to enter into his love affair, and to make suggestions, with a view to
avoiding bloodshed and other miseries. The result of the deliberations
was that Nelwang was to secure the confidence of two friends, his
brother and the orator Taia, to place one at each end of the coral
rocks above the village as watchmen, to cut down with his American
tomahawk a passage through the fence at the back, and to carry off
his bride at dead of night into the seclusion and safety of the bush!
Nelwang’s eyes flashed as he struck his tomahawk into a tree, and
cried,—
“I see it now, Missi! I shall win her from them all. Yakin and I will
be strong for you all our days!”
Next morning Yakin’s house was found deserted. They sent to all the
villages around, but no one had seen her. The hole in the fence behind
was then discovered, and the thirty whispered to each other that Yakin
had been wooed and won by some daring lover. Messengers were despatched
to all the villages, and Nelwang was found to have disappeared on the
same night as the widow, and neither could anywhere be found.
The usual revenge was taken. The houses of the offenders burned,
their fences broken down, and all their property either destroyed
or distributed. Work was suspended, and the disappointed thirty
solaced themselves by feasting at Yakin’s expense. On the third day I
arrived at the scene. Seeing our old friend Naswai looking on at the
plunderers, I signalled him, and said innocently,—
“Naswai, what’s this your men are about? What’s all the uproar?”
The Chief replied, “Have you not heard, Missi?”
“Heard?” said I. “The whole island has heard your ongoings for three
days! I can get no peace to study, or carry on my work.”
“Missi,” said the Chief, “Nelwang has eloped with Yakin, the wealthy
widow, and all the young men are taking their revenge.”
“Oh,” replied I, “is that all? Call your men, and let us speak to them.”
The men were all assembled, and I said: “After all your kindness to
Yakin, and all your attention to her since her husband’s death, has
she really run away and left you all? Don’t you feel thankful that you
are free from such an ungrateful woman? Had one of you been married
to her, and she had afterwards run away with this man that she loved,
that would have been far worse! And are you really making all this
noise over such a person, and destroying so much useful food? Let these
two fools go their way, and if she be all that you now say, he will
have the worst of the bargain, and you will be sufficiently avenged.
I advise you to spare the fruit trees—go home quietly—leave them to
punish each other—and let me get on with my work!”
Naswai repeated my appeal.
“Missi’s word is good! Gather up the food. Wait till we see their
conduct, how it grows. She wasn’t worth all this bother and noise!”
Three weeks passed. The runaways were nowhere to be found. It was
generally believed that they had gone in a canoe to Tanna or Erromanga.
But one morning, as I began my work at my house alone, the brave
Nelwang appeared at my side!
“Hillo!” I said, “where have you come from? and where is Yakin?”
“I must not,” he replied, “tell you yet. We are hid. We have lived on
cocoa-nuts gathered at night. Yakin is well and happy. I come now to
fulfil my promise: I will help you, and Yakin will help Missi Paton the
woman, and we shall be your friends. I have ground to be built upon
and fenced, whenever we dare; but we will come and live with you, till
peace is secured. Will you let us come to-morrow morning?”
“All right!” I said. “Come to-morrow!” And, trembling with delight, he
disappeared into the bush.
Thus strangely God provided us with wonderful assistance. Yakin soon
learnt to wash and dress and clean everything, and Nelwang served me
like a faithful disciple. They clung by us like our very shadow, partly
through fear of attack, partly from affection; but as each of them
could handle freely both musket and tomahawk, which, though laid aside,
were never far away, it was not every enemy that cared to try issues
with Nelwang and his bride. After a few weeks had thus passed by, and
as both of them were really showing an interest in things pertaining
to Jesus and His Gospel, I urged them strongly to appear publicly at
the Church on Sabbath, to show that they were determined to stand their
ground together as true husband and wife, and that the others must
accept the position and become reconciled. Delay now could gain no
purpose, and I wished the strife and uncertainty to be put to an end.
Nelwang knew our customs. Every worshipper has to be seated, when our
little bell ceases ringing. Aniwans would be ashamed to enter after
the Service had actually begun. As the bell ceased, Nelwang, knowing
that he would have a clear course, marched in, dressed in shirt and
kilt, and grasping very determinedly his tomahawk! He sat down as
near to me as he could conveniently get, trying hard to conceal his
manifest agitation. Slightly smiling towards me, he then turned and
looked eagerly at the door through which the women entered and left the
Church, as if to say, “Yakin is coming!” But his tomahawk was poised
ominously on his shoulder, and his courage gave him a defiant and
almost impudent air. He was evidently quite ready to sell his life at a
high price, if any one was prepared to risk the consequences.
In a few seconds Yakin entered; and if Nelwang’s bearing and appearance
were rather inconsistent with the feeling of worship,—what on earth
was I to do when the figure and costume of Yakin began to reveal
itself marching in? The first visible difference betwixt a Heathen and
a Christian is,—that the Christian wears some clothing, the Heathen
wears none. Yakin determined to show the extent of her Christianity
by the amount of clothing she could carry upon her person. Being a
Chiefs widow before she became Nelwang’s bride, she had some idea of
state occasions, and appeared dressed in every article of European
apparel, mostly portions of male attire, that she could beg or borrow
from about the premises! Her bridal gown was a man’s drab-coloured
great-coat, put on above her Native grass skirts, and sweeping down to
her heels, buttoned tight. Over this she had hung on a vest, and above
that again, most amazing of all, she had superinduced a pair of men’s
trousers, drawing the body over her head, and leaving a leg dangling
gracefully over each of her shoulders and streaming down her back.
Fastened to the one shoulder also there was a red shirt, and to the
other a striped shirt, waving about her like wings as she sailed along.
Around her head a red shirt had been twisted like a turban, and her
notions of art demanded that a sleeve thereof should hang aloft over
each of her ears! She seemed to be a moving monster loaded with a mass
of rags. The day was excessively hot, and the perspiration poured over
her face in streams. She, too, sat as near to me as she could get on
the women’s side of the Church. Nelwang looked at me and then at her,
smiling quietly, as if to say,—
“You never saw, in all your white world, a bride so grandly dressed!”
I little thought what I was bringing on myself, when I urged them to
come to Church. The sight of that poor creature sweltering before me
constrained me for once to make the service very short—perhaps the
shortest I ever conducted in all my life! The day ended in peace. The
two souls were extremely happy; and I praised God that what might have
been a scene of bloodshed had closed thus, even though it were in a
kind of wild grotesquerie!
Henceforth I never lacked a body-guard, nor Mrs. Paton a helper. Yakin
learned to read and write, and became an excellent teacher in our
Sabbath school; she also learned to sing, and led the praise in Church,
when my wife was unable to be present. In fact, she could put her
hand to everything about the house or the Mission, and became a great
favourite amongst the people. Nelwang fulfilled his promise faithfully.
He was indeed my friend. Through all my inland tours, either he or
the Sacred Man, Kalangi (who first attempted twice to shoot me, and
then, after his conversion, acted as if God had entrusted him with
the keeping of my life), faithfully accompanied me. With tomahawk or
musket, or both in hand, they were always within reach, and instantly
started to the front wherever danger seemed to threaten us. These were
amongst our first and best Church members. Nelwang and the Sacred Man
have both gone to their rest. But Yakin of the many garments has also
had many husbands. She rejoices now in her _fourth_, and is still a
devoted Christian, and a most interesting character in many ways.
The progress of God’s work was most conspicuous in relation to wars and
revenges among the Natives. The two high Chiefs, Namakei and Naswai,
frequently declared,—
“We are the men of Christ now. We must not fight. We must put down
murders and crimes among our people.”
Two young fools, returning from Tanna with muskets, attempted twice to
shoot a man in sheer wantonness and display of malice. The Islanders
met, and informed them that if man or woman was injured by them, the
other men would load their muskets and shoot them dead in public
council. This was a mighty step towards public order, and I greatly
rejoiced before the Lord. His Spirit, like leaven, was at work!
My constant custom was, in order to prevent war, to run right in
between the contending parties. My faith enabled me to grasp and
realize the promise, “Lo, I am with you always.” In Jesus I felt
invulnerable and immortal, so long as I was doing His work. And I can
truly say, that these were the moments when I felt my Saviour to be
most truly and sensibly present, inspiring and empowering me.
Another scheme had an excellent educative and religious influence.
I tried to interest all the villages, and to treat all the Chiefs
equally. In our early days, after getting into my two-roomed house, I
engaged the Chief, or representative man of each district, to put up
one or other of the many outhouses required at the Station. One, along
with his people, built the cook-house; another, the store; another,
the banana and yam-house; another, the washing-house; another, the
boys’ and girls’ house; the houses for servants and teachers, the
Schoolhouse, and the large shed, a kind of shelter where Natives sat
and talked when not at work about the Premises. Of course these all
were at first only Native huts, of larger or smaller dimensions. But
they were all built by contract for articles which they highly valued,
such as axes, knives, yards of prints and calico, strings of beads,
blankets, etc. They served our purpose for the time, and when another
party, by contract also, had fenced around our Premises, the Mission
Station was really a beautiful little lively and orderly Village, and
in itself no bad emblem of Christian and Civilized life. The payments,
made to all irrespectively, but only for work duly done and according
to reasonable bargain, distributed property and gifts amongst them on
wholesome principles, and encouraged a well-conditioned rivalry which
had many happy effects.
Heathenism made many desperate and some strange efforts to stamp out
our Cause on Aniwa, but the Lord held the helm. One old Chief, formerly
friendly, turned against us. He ostentatiously set himself to make
a canoe, working at it very openly and defiantly on Sabbaths. He,
becoming sick and dying, his brother started, on a Sabbath morning and
in contempt of the Worship, with an armed company to provoke our people
to war. They refused to fight; and one man, whom he struck with his
club, said,—
“I will leave my revenge to Jehovah.”
A few days thereafter, this brother also fell sick and suddenly died.
The Heathen party made much of these incidents, and some clamoured for
our death in revenge, but most feared to murder us; so they withdrew
and lived apart from our friends, as far away as they could get.
By-and-bye, however, they set fire to a large district belonging to our
supporters, burning cocoa-nut and bread-fruit trees and plantations.
Still our people refused to fight, and kept near to protect us. Then
all the leading men assembled to talk it over. Most were for peace, but
some insisted upon burning our house and driving us away or killing us,
that they might be left to live as they had hitherto done. At last a
Sacred Man, a Chief who had been on Tanna when the _Curaçoa_ punished
the murderers and robbers but protected the villages of the friendly
Natives there, stood up and spoke in our defence, and warned them what
might happen; and other three, who had been under my instruction on
Tanna, declared themselves to be the friends of Jehovah and of His
Missionary. Finally the Sacred Man rose again, and showed them rows of
beautiful white shells strung round his left arm, saying,—
“Nowar, the great Chief at Port Resolution on Tanna, when he saw that
Missi and his wife could not be kept there, took me to his heart, and
pledged me by these, the shells of his office as Chief, taken from his
own arms and bound on mine, to protect them from all harm. He told me
to declare to the men of Aniwa that if the Missi be injured or slain,
he and his warriors will come from Tanna and take the full revenge in
blood.” This turned the scale. The meeting closed in our favour.
Close on the heels of this, another and a rather perplexing incident
befell us. A party of Heathens assembled and made a great display of
fishing on the Lord’s Day, in contempt of the practice of the men on
Jehovah’s side, threatening also to waylay the Teachers and myself in
our village circuits. A meeting was held by the Christian party, at the
close of the Sabbath Services. All who wished to serve Jehovah were to
come to my house next morning, unarmed, and accompany me on a visit
to our enemies, that we might talk and reason together with them. By
daybreak, the Chiefs and nearly eighty men assembled at the Mission,
declaring that they were on Jehovah’s side, and wished to go with me.
But, alas! they refused to lay down their arms, or leave them behind;
nor would they either refrain from going or suffer me to go alone.
Pledging them to peace, I was reluctantly placed at their head, and we
marched off to the village of the unfriendly party.
The villagers were greatly alarmed. The Chief’s two sons came forth
with every available man to meet us. That whole day was consumed in
talking and speechifying, sometimes chanting their replies: the Natives
are all inveterate talkers! To me the day was utterly wearisome; but it
had one redeeming feature,—their rage found vent in hours of palaver,
instead of blows and blood. It ended in peace. The Heathen were amazed
at the number of Jehovah’s friends; and they pledged themselves
henceforth to leave the Worship alone, and that every one who pleased
might come to it unmolested. For this, worn out and weary, we returned,
praising the Lord.
But I must here record the story of the Sinking of the Well, which
broke the back of Heathenism on Aniwa. Being a flat coral island, with
no hills to attract the clouds, rain is scarce there as compared with
the adjoining mountainous islands; and even when it does fall heavily,
with tropical profusion, it disappears, as said before, through the
light soil and porous rock, and drains itself directly into the sea.
Hence, because of its greater dryness, Aniwa is more healthy than many
of the surrounding isles; though, probably for the same reason, its
Natives are subject to a form of Elephantiasis, known as the “Barbadoes
leg.” The Rainy Season is from December to April, and then the disease
most characteristic of all these regions is apt to prevail, viz., fever
and ague.
At certain seasons, the Natives drank very unwholesome water; and,
indeed, the best water they had at any time for drinking purposes was
from the precious cocoa-nut, a kind of Apple of Paradise for all these
Southern Isles! They also cultivate the sugar-cane very extensively,
and in great variety; and they chew it, when we would fly to water
for thirst, so it is to them both food and drink. The black fellow
carries with him to the field, when he goes off for a day’s work, four
or five sticks of sugar-cane, and puts in his time comfortably enough
on these. Besides, the sea being their universal bathingplace, in which
they swattle like fish, and little water, almost none, being required
for cooking purposes, and none whatever for washing clothes (!), the
lack of fresh springing water was not the dreadful trial to them that
it would be to us. Yet they appreciate and rejoice in it immensely
too; though the water of the green cocoa-nut is refreshing, and in
appearance, taste, and colour not unlike lemonade—one nut filling a
tumbler; and though, when mothers die they feed the babies on it and
on the soft white pith, and they flourish on the same; yet the Natives
themselves show their delight in preferring, when they can get it, the
milk from the goat and the water from the well.
My household felt sadly the want of fresh water. I prepared two large
casks, to be filled when the rain came. But when we attempted to do so
at the water-hole near the village, the Natives forbade us, fearing
that our large casks would carry all the water away, and leave none
for them with their so much smaller cocoa-nut bottles. This public
water-hole was on the ground of two Sacred Men, who claimed the power
of emptying and filling it by rain at will. The superstitious Natives
gave them presents to bring the rain. If it came soon, they took all
the credit for it. If not, they demanded larger gifts to satisfy their
gods. Even our Aneityumese Teachers said to me, when I protested that
surely they could not believe such things,—
“It is hard to know, Missi. The water does come and go quickly. If you
paid them well, they might bring the rain, and let us fill our casks!”
I told them that, as followers of Jehovah, we must despise all Heathen
mummeries, and trust in Him and in the laws of His Creation to help us.
Aniwa, having therefore no permanent supply of fresh water, in spring
or stream or lake, I resolved by the help of God to sink a well near
the Mission Premises, hoping that a wisdom higher than my own would
guide me to the source of some blessed spring. Of the scientific
conditions of such an experiment I was completely ignorant; but I
counted on having to dig through earth and coral above thirty feet,
and my constant fear was, that owing to our environment, the water, if
water I found, could only be salt water after all my toils! Still I
resolved to sink that shaft in hope, and in faith that the Son of God
would be glorified thereby.
One morning I said to the old Chief and his fellow-Chief, both now
earnestly inquiring about the religion of Jehovah and of Jesus,—
“I am going to sink a deep well down into the earth, to see if our God
will send us fresh water up from below.”
They looked at me with astonishment, and said in a tone of sympathy
approaching to pity,—
“O Missi! Wait till the rain comes down, and we will save all we
possibly can for you.”
I replied, “We may all die for lack of water. If no fresh water can be
got, we may be forced to leave you.”
The old Chief looked imploringly, and said: “O Missi! you must not
leave us for that. Rain comes only from above. How could you expect our
Island to send up showers of rain from below?”
I told him: “Fresh water does come up springing from the earth in my
Land at home, and I hope to see it here also.”
The old Chief grew more tender in his tones, and cried: “O Missi, your
head is going wrong; you are losing something, or you would not talk
wild like that! Don’t let our people hear you talking about going down
into the earth for rain, or they will never listen to your word or
believe you again.”
But I started upon my hazardous job, selecting a spot near the Mission
Station and close to the public path, that my prospective well might
be useful to all. I began to dig, with pick and spade and bucket at
hand, an American axe for a hammer and crowbar, and a ladder for
service by-and-bye. The good old Chief now told off his men in relays
to watch me, lest I should attempt to take my own life, or do anything
outrageous, saying,—
“Poor Missi! That’s the way with all who go mad. There’s no driving of
a notion out of their heads. We must just watch him now. He will find
it harder to work with pick and spade than with his pen, and when he’s
tired we’ll persuade him to give it up.”
I did get exhausted sooner than I expected, toiling under that tropical
sun; but we never own before the Natives that we are beaten, so I
went into the house and filled my vest pocket with large beautiful
English-made fish-hooks. These are very tempting to the young men,
as compared with their own,—skilfully made though _they_ be out of
shell, and serving their purposes wonderfully. Holding up a large hook,
I cried,—“One of these to every man who fills and turns over three
buckets out of this hole!”
A rush was made to get the first turn, and back again for another and
another. I kept those on one side who had got a turn, till all the
rest in order had a chance, and bucket after bucket was filled and
emptied rapidly. Still the shaft seemed to lower very slowly, while
my fish-hooks were disappearing very quickly. I was constantly there,
and took the heavy share of everything, and was thankful one evening
to find that we had cleared more than twelve feet deep,—when lo! next
morning, one side had rushed in, and our work was all undone.
The old Chief and his best men now came around me more earnestly than
ever. He remonstrated with me very gravely. He assured me for the
fiftieth time that rain would never be seen coming up through the earth
on Aniwa!
“Now,” said he, “had you been in that hole last night, you would have
been buried, and a Man-of-war would have come from Queen ’Toria to ask
for the Missi that lived here. We would say, ‘Down in that hole.’ The
Captain would ask, ‘Who killed him and put him down there?’ We would
have to say, ‘He went down there himself!’ The Captain would answer,
‘Nonsense! who ever heard of a white man going down into the earth to
bury himself? You killed him, you put him there; don’t hide your bad
conduct with lies!’ Then he would bring out his big guns and shoot
us, and destroy our Island in revenge. You are making your own grave,
Missi, and you will make ours too. Give up this mad freak, for no rain
will be found by going downwards on Aniwa. Besides, all your fish-hooks
cannot tempt my men again to enter that hole; they don’t want to be
buried with you. Will you not give it up now?”
I said all that I could to quiet his fears, explained to them that this
falling in had happened by my neglect of precautions, and finally made
known that by the help of my God, even without all other help, I meant
to persevere.
Steeping my poor brains over the problem, I became an extemporized
engineer. Two trees were searched for, with branches on opposite
sides, capable of sustaining a cross tree betwixt them. I sank them
on each side firmly into the ground, passed the beam across them over
the centre of the shaft, fastened thereon a rude home-made pulley and
block, passed a rope over the wheel, and swung my largest bucket to
the end of it. Thus equipped, I began once more sinking away at the
well, but at so wide an angle that the sides might not again fall
in. Not a Native, however, would enter that hole, and I had to pick
and dig away till I was utterly exhausted. But a Teacher, in whom I
had confidence, took charge above, managing to hire them with axes,
knives, etc., to seize the end of the rope and walk along the ground
pulling it till the bucket rose to the surface, and then he himself
swung it aside, emptied it, and lowered it down again. I rang a little
bell which I had with me, when the bucket was loaded, and that was the
signal for my brave helpers to pull their rope. And thus I toiled on
from day to day, my heart almost sinking sometimes with the sinking of
the well, till we reached a depth of about thirty feet. And the phrase,
“living water,” “living water,” kept chiming through my soul like music
from God, as I dug and hammered away!
At this depth the earth and coral began to be soaked with damp. I felt
that we were nearing water. My soul had a faith that God would open a
spring for us; but side by side with this faith was a strange terror
that the water would be salt. So perplexing and mixed are even the
highest experiences of the soul; the rose-flower of a perfect faith,
set round and round with prickly thorns. One evening I said to the old
Chief,—
“I think that Jehovah God will give us water to-morrow from that hole!”
The Chief said, “No, Missi; you will never see rain coming up from the
earth on this Island. We wonder what is to be the end of this mad work
of yours. We expect daily, if you reach water, to see you drop through
into the sea, and the sharks will eat you! That will be the end of it;
death to you, and danger to us all.”
I still answered, “Come to-morrow. I hope and believe that Jehovah God
will send you the rain water up through the earth.” At the moment I
knew I was risking much, and probably incurring sorrowful consequences,
had no water been given; but I had faith that the Lord was leading me
on, and I knew that I sought His glory, not my own.
Next morning, I went down again at daybreak and sank a narrow hole in
the centre about two feet deep. The perspiration broke over me with
uncontrollable excitement, and I trembled through every limb, when
the water rushed up and began to fill the hole. Muddy though it was,
I eagerly tasted it, and the little “tinny” dropped from my hand with
sheer joy, and I almost fell upon my knees in that muddy bottom to
praise the Lord. It was water! It was fresh water! It was living water
from Jehovah’s well! True, it was a little brackish, but nothing to
speak of; and no spring in the desert, cooling the parched lips of a
fevered pilgrim, ever appeared more worthy of being called a Well of
God than did that water to me!
The Chiefs had assembled with their men near by They waited on in
eager expectancy. It was a rehearsal, in a small way, of the Israelites
coming round, while Moses struck the rock and called for water.
By-and-bye, when I had praised the Lord, and my excitement was a little
calmed, the mud being also greatly settled, I filled a jug, which I had
taken down empty in the sight of them all, and ascending to the top
called for them to come and see the rain which Jehovah God had given us
through the well. They closed around me in haste, and gazed on it in
superstitious fear. The old Chief shook it to see if it would spill,
and then touched it to see if it felt like water. At last he tasted it,
and rolling it in his mouth with joy for a moment, he swallowed it, and
shouted, “Rain! Rain! Yes, it is Rain! But how did you get it?”
I repeated, “Jehovah my God gave it out of His own Earth in answer to
our labours and prayers. Go and see it springing up for yourselves!”
Now, though every man there could climb the highest tree as swiftly
and as fearlessly as a squirrel or an opossum, not one of them had
courage to walk to the side and gaze down into that well. To them this
was miraculous! But they were not without a resource that met the
emergency. They agreed to take firm hold of each other by the hand, to
place themselves in a long line, the foremost man to lean cautiously
forward, gaze into the well, and then pass to the rear, and so on till
all had seen “Jehovah’s rain” far below. It was somewhat comical, yet
far more pathetic, to stand by and watch their faces, as man after
man peered down into the mystery, and then looked up at me in blank
bewilderment! When all had seen it with their own very eyes, and were
“weak with wonder,” the old Chief exclaimed,—
“Missi, wonderful, wonderful is the work of your Jehovah God! No god of
Aniwa ever helped us in this way. But, Missi,” continued he, after a
pause that looked like silent worship, “will it always rain up through
the earth? or, will it come and go like the rain from the clouds?”
I told them that I believed it would always continue there for our use,
as a good gift from Jehovah.
“Well, but, Missi,” replied the Chief, some glimmering of self-interest
beginning to strike his brain, “will you or your family drink it all,
or shall we also have some?”
“You and all your people,” I answered, “and all the people of the
Island may come and drink and carry away as much of it as you wish.
I believe there will always be plenty for us all, and the more of it
we can use the fresher it will be. That is the way with many of our
Jehovah’s best gifts to men, and for it and for all we praise His Name!”
“Then, Missi,” said the Chief, “it will be our water, and we may all
use it as our very own.”
“Yes,” I answered, “whenever you wish it, and as much as you need, both
here and at your own houses, as far as it can possibly be made to go.”
The Chief looked at me eagerly, fully convinced at length that the
well contained a treasure, and exclaimed, “Missi, what can we do to
help you now?”
Oh, how like is human nature all the world over! When one toils and
struggles, when help is needed which many around could easily give and
be the better, not the worse, for giving it, they look on in silence,
or bless you with ungenerous criticism, or ban you with malicious
judgment. But let them get some peep of personal advantage by helping
you, or even of the empty bubble of praise for offering it, and how
they rush to your aid!
But I was thankful to accept of the Chief’s assistance, though rather
late in the day, and I said,—
“You have seen it fall in once already. If it falls again, it will
conceal the rain from below which our God has given us. In order to
preserve it for us and for our children in all time, we must build it
round and round with great coral blocks from the bottom to the very
top. I will now clear it out, and prepare the foundation for this wall
of coral. Let every man and woman carry from the shore the largest
blocks they can bring. It is well worth all the toil thus to preserve
our great Jehovah’s gift!”
Scarcely were my words repeated, when they rushed to the shore, with
shoutings and songs of gladness; and soon every one was seen struggling
under the biggest block of coral with which he dared to tackle. They
lay like limestone rocks, broken up by the hurricanes, and rolled
ashore in the arms of mighty billows; and in an incredibly short time
scores of them were tumbled down for my use at the mouth of the well.
Having prepared a foundation, I made ready a sort of box to which every
block was firmly tied and then let down to me by the pulley,—a Native
Teacher, a faithful fellow, cautiously guiding it. I received and
placed each stone in its position, doing my poor best to wedge them one
against the other, building circularly, and cutting them to the needed
shape with my American axe. The wall is about three feet thick, and
the masonry may be guaranteed to stand till the coral itself decays. I
wrought incessantly, for fear of any further collapse, till I had it
raised about twenty feet; and now, feeling secure, and my hands being
dreadfully cut up, I intimated that I would rest a week or two, and
finish the building then. But the Chief advanced and said,—
“Missi, you have been strong to work. Your strength has fled. But rest
here beside us; and just point out where each block is to be laid. We
will lay them there, we will build them solidly behind like you. And no
man will sleep till it is done.”
With all their will and heart they started on the job; some carrying,
some cutting and squaring the blocks, till the wall rose like magic,
and a row of the hugest rocks laid round the top bound all together,
and formed the mouth of the well. Women, boys, and all wished to have
a hand in building it, and it remains to this day, a solid wall of
masonry, the circle being thirty-four feet deep, eight feet wide at
the top, and six at the bottom. I floored it over with wood above all,
and fixed the windlass and bucket, and there it stands as one of the
greatest material blessings which the Lord has given to Aniwa. It rises
and falls with the tide, though a third of a mile distant from the sea;
and when, after using it, we tasted the pure fresh water on board the
_Dayspring_, it seemed so insipid that I had to slip a little salt into
my tea along with the sugar before I could enjoy it! All visitors are
taken to see the well, as one of the wonders of Aniwa; and an Elder of
the Church said to me lately,—
“But for that water, during the last two years of drought, we would all
have been dead!”
Very strangely, though the Natives themselves have since tried to sink
six or seven wells in the most likely places near their different
villages, they have either come to coral rock which they could not
pierce, or found only water that was salt. And they say amongst
themselves,—
“Missi not only used pick and spade, but he prayed and cried to his
God. We have learned to dig, but not how to pray, and therefore Jehovah
will not give us the rain from below!”
The well was now finished. The place was neatly fenced in. And the old
Chief said,—
“Missi, now that this is the water for all, we must take care and keep
it pure.”
I was so thankful that all were to use it. Had we alone drawn water
therefrom, they could so easily have poisoned it, as they do the
fish-pools, in caverns among the rocks by the shore, with their
nuts and runners, and killed us all. But there was no fear, if they
themselves were to use it daily. The Chief continued,—
“Missi, I think I could help you next Sabbath. Will you let me preach a
sermon on the well?”
“Yes,” I at once replied, “if you will try to bring all the people to
hear you.”
“Missi, I will try,” he eagerly promised. The news spread like wildfire
that the Chief Namakei was to be the Missionary on the next day for the
Worship, and the people, under great expectancy, urged each other to
come and hear what he had to say.
Sabbath came round. Aniwa assembled in what was for that island a great
crowd. Namakei appeared dressed in shirt and kilt. He was so excited,
and flourished his tomahawk about at such a rate, that it was rather
lively work to be near him. I conducted short opening devotions, and
then called upon Namakei. He rose at once, with eye flashing wildly,
and his limbs twitching with emotion. He spoke to the following effect,
swinging his tomahawk to enforce every eloquent gesticulation,—
“Friends of Namakei, men and women and children of Aniwa, listen to my
words! Since Missi came here he has talked many strange things we could
not understand—things all too wonderful; and we said regarding many of
them that they must be lies. White people might believe such nonsense,
but we said that the black fellow knew better than to receive it.
But of all his wonderful stories, we thought the strangest was about
sinking down through the earth to get rain! Then we said to each other,
The man’s head is turned; he’s gone mad. But the Missi prayed on and
wrought on, telling us that Jehovah God heard and saw, and that his God
would give him rain. Was he mad? Has he not got the rain deep down in
the earth? We mocked at him; but the water was there all the same. We
have laughed at other things which the Missi told us, because we could
not see them. But from this day I believe that all he tells us about
his Jehovah God is true. Some day our eyes will see it. For to-day we
have seen the rain from the earth.”
Then, rising to a climax, first the one foot and then the other making
the broken coral on the floor fly behind like a war-horse pawing the
ground, he cried with great eloquence,—
“My people, the people of Aniwa, the world is turned upside down
since the word of Jehovah came to this land! Who ever expected to see
rain coming up through the earth? It has always come from the clouds!
Wonderful is the work of this Jehovah God. No god of Aniwa ever
answered prayers as the Missi’s God has done. Friends of Namakei, all
the powers of the world could not have forced us to believe that rain
could be given from the depths of the earth, if we had not seen it
with our eyes, felt it and tasted it as we here do. Now, by the help
of Jehovah God the Missi brought that invisible rain to view, which we
never before heard of or saw, and,”—(beating his hand on his breast, he
exclaimed),—
“Something here in my heart tells me that the Jehovah God does exist,
the Invisible One, whom we never heard of nor saw till the Missi
brought Him to our knowledge. The coral has been removed, the land has
been cleared away, and lo! the water rises. Invisible till this day,
yet all the same it was there, though our eyes were too weak. So I,
your Chief, do now firmly believe that when I die, when the bits of
coral and the heaps of dust are removed which now blind my old eyes, I
shall then see the Invisible Jehovah God with my soul, as Missi tells
me, not less surely than I have seen the rain from the earth below.
From this day, my people, I must worship the God who has opened for
us the well, and who fills us with rain from below. The gods of Aniwa
cannot hear, cannot help us, like the God of Missi. Henceforth I am
a follower of Jehovah God. Let every man that thinks with me go now
and fetch the idols of Aniwa, the gods which our fathers feared, and
cast them down at Missi’s feet. Let us burn and bury and destroy these
things of wood and stone, and let us be taught by the Missi how to
serve the God who can hear, the Jehovah who gave us the well, and who
will give us every other blessing, for He sent His Son Jesus to die
for us and bring us to Heaven. This is what the Missi has been telling
us every day since he landed on Aniwa. We laughed at him, but now
we believe him. The Jehovah God has sent us rain from the earth. Why
should He not also send us His Son from Heaven? Namakei stands up for
Jehovah!”
This address, and the Sinking of the Well, broke, as I already said,
the back of Heathenism on Aniwa. That very afternoon, the old Chief
and several of his people brought their idols and cast them down at my
feet beside the door of our house. Oh, the intense excitement of the
weeks that followed! Company after company came to the spot, loaded
with their gods of wood and stone, and piled them up in heaps, amid
the tears and sobs of some, and the shoutings of others, in which was
heard the oft-repeated word, “Jehovah! Jehovah!” What could be burned,
we cast into the flames; others we buried in pits twelve or fifteen
feet deep; and some few, more likely than the rest to feed or awaken
superstition, we sank far out into the deep sea. Let no Heathen eyes
ever gaze on them again!
We do not mean to indicate that, in all cases, their motives were
either high or enlightened. There were not wanting some who wished to
make this new movement pay, and were much disgusted when we refused
to “buy” their gods! On being told that Jehovah would not be pleased
unless they gave them up of their own free will, and destroyed them
without pay or reward, some took them home again and held on by them
for a season, and others threw them away in contempt. Meetings
were held; speeches were delivered, for these New Hebrideans are
irrepressible orators, florid, and amazingly graphic; much talk
followed, and the destruction of idols went on apace. By-and-bye two
Sacred Men and some other selected persons were appointed a sort of
detective Committee, to search out and expose those who pretended to
give them all up, but were hiding certain idols in secret, and to
encourage waverers to come to a thorough decision for Jehovah. In these
intensely exciting days, we “stood still” and saw the salvation of the
Lord.
They flocked around us now at every meeting we held. They listened
eagerly to the story of the life and death of Jesus. They voluntarily
assumed one or other article of clothing. And everything transpiring
was fully and faithfully submitted to us for counsel or for
information. One of the very first things of a Christian discipline to
which they readily and almost unanimously took was the asking of God’s
blessing on every meal and praising the great Jehovah for their daily
bread. Whosoever did not do so was regarded as a Heathen. (Query: how
many _white_ Heathens are there?) The next step, and it was taken in
a manner as if by some common consent that was not less surprising
than joyful, was a form of Family Worship every morning and evening.
Doubtless the prayers were often very queer, and mixed up with many
remaining superstitions; but they were prayers to the great Jehovah,
the compassionate Father, the Invisible One—no longer to gods of stone!
Necessarily these were the conspicuous features of our life as
Christians in their midst—morning and evening Family Prayer, and
Grace at Meat; and hence, most naturally, their instinctive adoption
and imitation of the same as the first outward tokens of Christian
discipline. Every house in which there was not Prayer to God in the
family was known thereby to be Heathen. This was a direct and practical
evidence of the New Religion; and, so far as it goes (and that is very
far indeed, where there is any sincerity at all), the test was one
about which there could be no mistake on either side.
A third conspicuous feature stood out distinctly and at once,—the
change as to the Lord’s Day. Village after village followed in this
also the example of the Mission House. All ordinary occupations ceased.
Sabbath was spoken of as the Day for Jehovah. Saturday came to be
called “Cooking Day,” referring to the extra preparations for the day
of rest and worship. They believed that it was Jehovah’s will to keep
the first day holy. The reverse was a distinctive mark of Heathenism.
The first traces of a new Social Order began to rise visibly on the
delighted eye. The whole inhabitants, young and old, now attended
School,—three generations sometimes at the one copy or A B C book!
Thefts, quarrels, crimes, etc., were settled now, not by club law,
but by fine or bonds or lash, as agreed upon by the Chiefs and
their people. Everything was rapidly and surely becoming “new” under
the influence of the leaven of Jesus. Industry increased. Huts and
plantations were safe. Formerly every man, in travelling, carried with
him all his valuables; now they were secure, left at home.
Even a brood of fowls or a litter of pigs would be carried in bags
on their persons in Heathen days. Hence at Church we had sometimes
lively episodes, the chirruping of chicks, the squealing of piggies,
and the barking of puppies, one gaily responding to the other, as we
sang, or prayed, or preached the Gospel! Being glad to see the Natives
there, even with all their belongings, we carefully refrained from
finding fault; but the thread of devotion was sometimes apt to slip
through one’s fingers, especially when the conflict of the owner to
silence a baby-pig inspired the little wretch to drown everything in a
long-sustained and angry swinish scream.
The Natives, finding this state of matters troublesome to themselves
and disagreeable all round, called a General Assembly, unanimously
condemned dishonesty, agreed upon severe fines and punishments for
every act of theft, and covenanted to stand by each other in putting it
down. The Chiefs, however, found this a long and difficult task, but
they held at it under the inspiration of the Gospel and prevailed. Even
the trials and difficulties with which they met were overruled by God,
in assisting them to form by the light of their own experience a simple
code of Social Laws, fitted to repress the crimes there prevailing,
and to encourage the virtues specially needing to be cultivated there.
Heathen Worship was gradually extinguished; and, though no one was
compelled to come to Church, every person on Aniwa, without exception,
became an avowed worshipper of Jehovah God. Again, “O Galilean, Thou
hast conquered!”
Often since have I meditated on that old Cannibal Chief reasoning
himself and his people, from the sinking of the well and the bringing
of the invisible water to view, into a belief as to the existence
and power of the great Invisible God, the only Hearer and Answerer
of prayer. And the contrasted picture rises before my mind of the
multitudes in Britain, America, Germany, and our Colonies, all whose
wisdom, science, art, and wealth have only left them in spiritual
darkness—miserable doubters! In their pride of heart, they deny their
Creator and Redeemer, so gloriously revealed to them alike in Nature
and in Scripture, and are like a dog barking against the sun. They will
accept nothing but what their poorly-developed Science can demonstrate;
yet that Science, as compared with the All-Truth of the Universe, is
infinitely smaller than was the poor Chief Namakei’s knowledge as
compared with mine! They do certainly know that their very existence,
at every moment, depends on things that neither reason nor science can
fathom, any more than Namakei could understand the rain from below. For
every reason that he and his people had to believe in the Invisible
God, who brought the water to their view, these sons and daughters
of civilization, “the heirs of all the ages in the foremost files of
time,” have ten thousand more—from history, from science, from material
progress—yet in their pride of Intellect they refuse to acknowledge
and adore that Invisible and Inscrutable God, in whom every day they
live, and move, and have their being, and who has spoken to us by His
Son from Heaven. If their own sons, daughters, or servants, who are
infinitely less dependent on them than they are upon God, should treat
themselves as they are treating their Creator, what would they think?
How would they feel? I pity from the depth of my heart every human
being, who, from whatever cause, is a stranger to the most ennobling,
uplifting, and consoling experience that can come to the soul of
man—blessed communion with the Father of our Spirits, through gracious
union with the Lord Jesus Christ. “I thank Thee, O Father, Lord of
Heaven and Earth, because Thou hast hid these things from the wise and
prudent, and hast revealed them unto babes. Even so, Father: for so it
seemed good in Thy sight.... Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are
heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you, and learn
of Me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto
your souls. For My yoke is easy, and My burden is light” (Matt. xi.
25-30).