Meeting.’ These meetings are held monthly, for John to appoint them
their work, and change it from one to another, so that it might not
always devolve upon a few. You know there is no paid door-keeper,
or paid service of any kind connected with the Church, so the women
take it in turns, two by two, every Saturday morning, to clean the
Church and enclosure. One man is appointed bell-ringer, another to
take off and on the pulpit coverings and carry in the Bible, etc., two
to stand at the doors and see there are no loiterers outside, and so
forth. Cases of sickness or wickedness are also reported, and Church
matters generally talked over. At this meeting one woman was scored
off for absconding from her legal husband and living with another;
and Mungaw, who came in with the greatest blandness, as if nothing
had happened, got a thorough ‘talking to,’ and was suspended till it
should be proved whether he was more rogue or fool—for at that time
we could scarcely tell. That he had become decidedly cracked and his
mind to a certain extent unhinged, no one who saw and heard him could
doubt—especially knowing what a dear good fellow he was before; still
he seemed sane enough at times; and when he did break out, it was more
like being possessed with evil spirits. All his madness took the form
of wickedness, and when he saw people afraid of him he was the more
emboldened. It was very difficult to know how to treat him. He was
rather cowed at the meeting, though, and kept pretty quiet till the
full moon, while meantime we had peace to get all our machinery into
working order again....
“John has had great comfort with his big boys, however, especially
the one we were most averse to take in,—a great ugly-looking fellow
of about eighteen, couldn’t speak without a growl, and scowled
at everybody from under his black wool, which hung down over his
eyebrows. To crown all, he had been with the slavers—and that is no
recommendation!
“After keeping with our boys a day or two and coming to evening class,
on the third evening he sent in for a blanket, as he was ‘going to
stay.’ We looked aghast. John was for receiving him; but I was at the
crying point, and declared I could not feed more Natives or make food
go further than other people. John said, ‘Then am I to send him away?’
Well, no! I was hardly prepared to do that either; so, after talking
over it a few minutes, we felt sure the Lord had sent him; and though
I did not feel particularly grateful at the time, I have often thanked
Him since. We went to the blanket box, got a nice warm blanket (the
Natives feel chilly at night), called him in, and John had a talk with
him about certain rules, after which he took his gift with a very
pleasant grin. He looked like a different creature with his hair cut;
and a more faithful, helpful, warm-hearted Native lad we never had.
In times of danger from Mungaw, he stuck by John like his shadow—no
ostentation with it, but quietly getting some pretext for keeping close
to him when there was any fear. A capital worker too—for John does not
approve of keeping his boys idle, and they help him with whatever he is
at, fencing, roofing, gardening, house-building, etc.
“One day he and another big boy (a great wag—keeps the others in roars
of laughter, and himself the picture of solemnity) had been planing
wood very nicely, and John praised them, calling them his ‘Carpenter’
and ‘Joiner.’ In the afternoon a slate full of writing was sent in,
informing us that they wished from henceforth to drop their old names
and be called ‘Carpenter’ and ‘Joiner.’ Nor would they answer to any
other. We often forgot, at first, but were reminded by their paying
not the slightest attention, till we came out with the new name—when
they would instantly wheel round with a smile and be at our service!...
“One day, before John was quite recovered, Mungaw put a lot of
impudence on his copy for my special benefit. I took no notice—he
looked so wild—but pointed out a mis-spelt word, wrote a fresh line,
and telling him to follow it closely passed quickly on to the next
writer. I told John, when I went in, I was sure he would do some
mischief ere long; and just an evening or two after, we heard him
shouting and scolding from his house in an awful voice. John limped
off, in spite of my entreaties to let them fight it out, and found
Mungaw flourishing an axe over a poor woman, whose husband was from
home and who had been helping Litsi to cook his fish, but had been
unfortunate enough not to divine that on that particular evening he
wanted it wrapped in a different kind of leaf from what was usual.
He had brought the axe within a few inches of her shoulder, when two
or three Natives, attracted to the spot just before John, stayed his
arm and wrenched it from him. He got his musket next, but poor Sibo
and Litsi both ran to our house for protection, while John and the
Natives tried to calm him down. They got his musket from him, and I
saw a Teacher slip it behind a tree in our lawn; but Mungaw was sharp
enough to notice, and got it away again when the affray was over, and
ordered poor Litsi back to her cooking. Sibo went to a distant village
to be out of his way, declaring she was half dead with fright; and I
would very much have liked to get away from the Island altogether!
John’s spirit always rises equal to the emergency, but I get perfectly
faint with terror, and the longer the worse. This was merely a little
prelude, however, to what followed.
“Next morning he had the audacity to appear at one of the dining-room
windows, as the girls were clearing away the breakfast things; and
he demanded the keys from John, as he wanted to sharpen his axe at
the grindstone. John said, ‘No, Mungaw, you’ll learn to put your axe
to a better use first; and I want you to return the two you have of
mine.’ He looked the picture of innocent wonder, and replied, ‘What do
you mean, Missi?’ John replied, ‘I just mean that I want you to give
up your bad conduct.’ ‘My bad conduct! What have I done?’ protested
Mungaw. John said pointedly, ‘Do you not _know_, Mungaw?’ That was all
the provocation he got; but he went off for his musket, muttering,
‘I’ll let you know who you’re talking to.’
“When he was gone, John went out to his Printing Office for something,
and on leaving it saw Mungaw just inside our fence taking deliberate
aim at him with his musket. John turned round to lock the door, showing
no signs of fear, but feeling that all was over, and that he was to
be shot down so near us all and yet none near enough to save; but God
was watching! The next instant he heard a rush of feet, a scuffle,
and looked round to see the musket pointed high in the air, and four
strong arms grappling with the intended murderer. Two men had been
accidentally (!?) coming up the path, took in the scene at a glance,
and my husband was saved.
“I knew nothing of what was passing, but, feeling restless after
Mungaw’s parting look, went out to hurry John in for worship. I met
him coming in, and stopped short at sight of his pale face to ask
if he were ill, and he told me all. We had just begun to sing at
worship, when he re-appeared flourishing his musket, trying the doors
and windows (you may believe I had them securely fastened by this
time), and demanding entrance. We went on, taking no notice, but the
_celestial quaver_ was plentifully introduced into the music, and the
girls rushed into the dining-room in great fear. Meanwhile the news had
spread like wildfire, and the Church members near came running to order
him out of the Premises, which only made him wilder; so they seized
him, took him to the Imrai, and bound him hand and foot with ropes. It
was a terrible noise and scuffle, for he had the strength of ten men,
and yelled like a demon.
“Two of his brothers so-called (not real ones) arriving on the spot,
he thought to get up some sympathy, changed his voice to a whine, and
bewailed his hard fate,—‘bound and persecuted for doing nothing at
all!’ Litsi, gentle Litsi, took her boy in her arms, and walked up to
him before the crowd, saying in a loud voice, ‘Look at the marks of
your brutality on me and my helpless child, and say whether you deserve
to be tied or not!’ It was an imprudent speech for her to make, poor
girl, for which he did not forget to repay her. It was a terrible day
for us all—poor little F. white to the lips with fear, I lying in a
fainting state, and John walking up and down the room trying to keep up
our spirits, and wee J.—oh! how we envied him—running about, playing
‘Peep-bo’ in happy unconsciousness of all. The Church members feared
that some of the wilder young fellows, whom he had been favouring of
late, would come to his aid; but when it was known he had attacked the
Missi, not a finger was lifted in his defence.
“They did not know what to do with him, now they had him bound,—nothing
in the shape of a prison or secure place on all the Island! They
proposed our Cellar, but we didn’t want him quite so near as that; so
they let him off at the end of four hours, and Litsi and little Nomaki
took refuge with us. Mungaw got a little boy to tell him where they
hid his musket; and, once more possessed of it, he flew all round the
Island till towards sunset, when he divested himself entirely of his
clothing, stuck on paint, and with musket shouldered walked sentry
before our front gate for more than an hour. He seemed to be imitating
the sentinels he had seen before Government House in Melbourne—a slight
difference in the circumstances! But it was thought necessary to have a
counter-guard over our Premises that night. The only good thing he did
was to send his gracious permission to Litsi to stay in our house for
the night, which she thankfully accepted.
“Next morning (Sunday) he met her pleasantly, called her to speak to
him (our fence was between them), and threw a large stone at her head,
informing her that was the price of her yesterday’s speech. We bound
up the deep wound and advised her to lie quiet, but she preferred
going to Church with us as the safest plan, for he had been caught
several times during the night stealthily approaching our house to burn
it, as they thought. None of the villagers slept, two of their lives
being to danger. It was a most anxious Sabbath, and we had worship
under difficulties—guards being placed at our house and the principal
approaches to the Church. Oh, how regretfully I thought of the peaceful
Sabbaths and quiet walks to Church in Melbourne, none making us afraid!
But we tried to realize that the Lord Jesus was encompassing us around,
and that He stood between us and Mungaw. The people begged John to be
short, as they were in terror, so we had only one Service in Church,
and, instead of Sunday School, a prayer meeting on the Imrai. Mungaw
employed the time during Church service in ransacking the villagers’
boxes for ammunition, but they had it hid away; and at the prayer
meeting he was reclining, with folded arms, eyeing us from our back
verandah! After the prayer-meeting, John urged the different villagers
to take it in turns to sleep near Mungaw’s house for the protection of
Litsi who was being killed by inches, and at last they agreed; but as
soon as we were in the house, he went and patched up a sort of peace—a
sham to get the people away—and then abused the people near for tying
him, and dragged Litsi home. We were half the night praying for the
helpless girl, so completely at the mercy of that madman.
“Next morning, he came into the Imrai in grand style—musket in hand,
of course—and scolded the people, working himself up into a frenzy and
keeping us all on the rack, for _we_ could see from one of the Study
windows,—when, to our great joy, ‘Sail O’ rang out, and it was comical
to see how quickly he had to subside before this counter-excitement,
and slink away! We felt it was in answer to prayer, more especially
when a little afterwards he stood before our gate painted frightfully,
and told our herd-boys that he was going in the Vessel if she called
here. How earnestly we asked the Lord to let him go, if it were His
will, but prayed above all for submission to bear what was appointed
us, for we had the feeling he would stay. Poor fellow! he drove us
closer into the Saviour’s arms than all Dr. Somerville’s meetings in
Australia, for we had Him alone to look to. Natives were kind, but not
capable of giving much help—they rather look to us for it—and poor
things, we did pity them, when it was known that he had bought a large
stock of ammunition, including balls, and that he stayed behind!
“It turned out to be the schooner _Daphne_ for Fiji; and the Government
agent sent half a sovereign in a note, begging for opium, as he had
seventy-five people on board, and one case of ‘assured sickness.’ John,
of course, returned the money, but sent opium pills, laudanum, and
chlorodyne, having no opium. We were glad of the opportunity of sending
a few hurried notes, bearing a month’s later date than the _Dayspring_,
which left on the 14th November. This is the only other Vessel that has
called at our Island, since we returned, except the _Dayspring_....
“Christmas came next in order. The little stockings had been duly
filled the night before, as F. took care to have J.’s and his hung
up, with dim eyes at the thought of the other three which had been
filled the year before. It turned out to be a bright day; the bairns
were jubilant over their gifts; and there was a general rejoicing over
dear Litsi’s re-appearance at the Evening Class—her lord and master
having gone out in a canoe with some boys for a night’s fishing by
torch-light. Litsi’s face beamed at having an hour or two with us
all, for Mungaw did not allow her over her own fence, or any one to
go near her; and, as all the women were frightened, his commands were
obeyed to the letter, except by us, and for her sake even I had to go
stealthily with food (he starved her), as he beat her when he found it
out. Our girls did not require two biddings to put a plentiful supper
before her, and were cheering her under breath with the hope that his
canoe might turn bottom up and he get eaten with a shark, when the
most unearthly yell from the shore turned us all pale with terror, and
‘Mungaw!’ was gasped from every lip. Litsi flew home, in terror lest
he should find her _out_. The villagers seized their muskets and ran
to protect their boys, and John and I to our knees in the Study. But
the whole turned out to be a hoax! The boys’ canoe had upset among the
reefs, and though they could swim like corks, and were in no danger,
it was their pleasure thus to exercise their lungs while splashing
about....
“Mungaw made rather a sad New Year’s Day for us, though. While we were
at breakfast, more people assembled in the Imrai and high words ensued.
John went out to them, determined to sift the matter to the bottom;
and at last it came out that Mungaw had gone the day before to the
village of Towleka, and said that the people of Inahutshi were going to
shoot them on the morrow, and then he deliberately walked to Inahutshi
and told them the same thing about the people of Towleka. He was bent
upon war; wanted, in his own words, ‘to see blood run.’ Burning houses,
and he had burnt several, was becoming rather tame work; and he wanted
something more exciting. He boastfully acknowledged the part he had
acted the day before, declaring that if they had not _said_ they were
going to fight they _meant_ it, which was worse—better to have it out
and done with—why else were they carrying their muskets? This was a
little too much for their patience, and they did lay about him with
their tongues, saying it was he and he alone who had introduced this
carrying of muskets, by flying about with his own and threatening to
kill everybody. He then said, that if they were not going to fight they
ought to come out boldly for the Worship (he certainly did not approve
of doing things by halves), singling out by name those whom he knew to
have little differences with each other, and ordering them to shake
hands and exchange pigs there and then!
“When John thought they’d had enough of it, for Mungaw was getting
excited with his nonsense, he suggested that one of them should engage
in prayer and let them then get home. A fine old Chief stood up under
the banyan tree, and, waving his hand with a majesty a Native can
assume at times, offered a simple, earnest prayer, and the people
quietly dispersed. But Mungaw tried hard to get them together again,
and insisted upon everybody being converted on the spot. He kept on
this religious tack for about a fortnight, which was very pleasant, as
it allowed us to sit with open windows and doors, and get fresh air and
freedom.
“One day, when he was unusually gushing and had presented a pig and
food to the very men he had sought to murder,—his speech indicating
that the Millennial Reign was about to commence on Aniwa under his
auspices,—a Church member said, ‘I think, Mungaw, the people will
understand us better, if we burn our muskets and show that we’ll not
fight, whatever they may do; here goes mine!’ And suiting the action
to the word, he broke and flung his musket into the flames. Mungaw
immediately followed suit, with a grand flourish, to the intense relief
of all around, for he was a much less formidable personage without the
musket, though he still fancied himself a great king. He sent in for a
black suit, and permission to conduct the Worship next Sunday, which of
course he did not get.
“John sent for him and had long talks with him; but saw it was
little use,—he was so crazed, and thought every one in the wrong but
himself. His standing grievance against John was—that he kept all the
collections (!) taken at the close of Mission addresses (he insisted
they went into his private pocket), and did not halve them with him,
though he helped him to speak.
“He never forgot the scenes he saw in that den of iniquity to which
some wretches took him in Melbourne, under pretence of kindness, when
John was unable from my sudden illness in the country to take him home.
It bamboozled his then simple mind, how in a land of Gospel light such
appliances could be deliberately and systematically set on foot for
the on-carrying of evil. I do think, that for their light,—mind, I say
_for their light_—our black Christianity is superior to the white. The
Natives often said,—‘How is it, Missi, that he was so good and strong
for the Worship before he went to your good Land, and has been nothing
but a plague since he returned?’ John, of course, emphatically cleared
the ‘good Land’ from all blame, adding that he would take care not
to give any of the rest of them a chance of going daft by a trip to
Australia! They don’t pursue the argument after that, as all are eager
to go, and perfectly willing, they say, to accept the risk.
“It was a blessing the Natives were so kind, and oh, how we experienced
that ‘God stayeth His rough wind in the day of His east wind’; for
except the trouble with Mungaw, we had no other serious ones to contend
with, and He gave us to realize as I at least never did in the same
way how entirely the work was His. It looked so mysterious, that after
we had come down at such a sacrifice to health and family ties to
devote our whole time to the work, it should be so retarded by one
individual; for often, at his worst, only eight or ten had the courage
to come to School, and we could as well have taught fifty. But we could
leave it trustingly to the Lord, feeling that all we had to do was the
work He laid to our hands from day to day. What a restful feeling it
gives one to be ‘only an instrument in His hand.’...
“Litsi was the one most in danger, her house standing a little below
ours, and I having been roused at three o’clock to attend her only the
morning before, John was very averse to my going, in the circumstances;
and I fain would have contented myself with sending her comforts, but
I could not think to leave her with her mad husband, who had still
sternly refused to let any one go near her; so I hurriedly dressed,
roused the cook to boil the kettle, and took one of my girls with
a lamp. We found to my intense relief the baby already born, and
Mungaw so delighted at having another _son_ that he was inclined to
be tolerably kind. I took advantage of his mood—as it was through
him I could reach Litsi—praised him for being such a clever doctor,
and advised him to get her into the house out of the raw cold air,
and offered him the services of my girl to light a fire, which he
graciously condescended to accept! When I went back with some tea and
things for the baby, they looked much more comfortable, Litsi sitting
in the house by a bright fire, with the lamp beside her. Urging her to
lie down, I returned home and looked into the girls’ house to see how
it was faring with my other invalid,—for dear Yawaci had been carried
to us at her own request in a dying state.”...
“All that day was spent running betwixt the invalids. Dangerous
symptoms ensued with Litsi. Mungaw got fearfully excited at a lot of
women coming to see her, and stood over her with his loaded musket (he
had stolen another, as the pious fit did not last long), appealing to
me whether his word as Chief should be obeyed or not. I seconded his
efforts, as they were doing no good, and got them cleared to a little
distance—at hand if they were needed, and by deferential behaviour got
him to let me come and go with food, etc. He attributed her illness to
an absurd crotchet of his own, and held to it that she would be better
at sundown. Meanwhile, the time was being wasted, and we had so many
anxious thoughts. Was it right that her life should be sacrificed to
a madman’s freaks? Was it right to give in to him, or how far was it
right to risk his wrath? We took it all to our ever-present Counsellor;
and then John decided that if I found her no better he would go
himself, whatever the consequences.
“On my way I met Mungaw coming in at the gate with the empty dishes,
and he said quite humbly that he was wrong in his supposition, and
would like exceedingly if the Missi tané (= man Missi) would go and see
her, for he did not know what to do. John soon put matters all right,
telling them there was no cause for alarm,—gave directions about one
or two things that had been neglected, and ordered fomentations. She
had no more relapses, and he really seemed grateful the next morning
when he came for her breakfast, as I could not go to her very early on
account of the tidal wave.
“Poor Yawaci was our chief care after that. It seemed strange that
Litsi, who so longed for death, should survive so much ill usage,
for I could not pen a fiftieth part of the cruelty—the refinement of
cruelty—with which he treated her. One instance will suffice. We missed
him from Church one Sabbath, and found that he had spent the time
_skinning_ the lower part of her face and _pinching_ little bits of
flesh out of her chest from shoulder to shoulder, threatening her with
his club if she dared to cry out. You will wonder that the Natives did
not interfere. We began to lose all patience with them. I remember Mr.
Inglis once saying, ‘It was worth living twenty years on the Islands
just to know what we owed to Christianity,’ and how I thought they were
stupid who did not find out all that in six months or less! I myself
have had to live twelve years on Aniwa, however, to know what we owe to
Lunatic Asylums, and also to learn how _exclusively_ a man’s wife is
regarded as his own peculiar property—that is, to be used exactly as
he likes. They would as soon think of interfering with a man’s conduct
to his wife, as we would if in civilization a man chose to burn his
own carpet or smash his own timepiece. They would break out into the
most amused smile, when John was begging them to protect her, and
say, ‘But, Missi, it’s his own wife!’ Of course, they were mad enough
at him, Litsi being a general favourite, but could not well see their
right to interfere.
“Yawaci’s breathing was rather easier; and about eight o’clock, after
getting all she could want for the night, we were so thankful to see
her lie down for the first time, and fondly hoped she was beginning to
recover. She called the girls round her, telling them to sing; and,
after beginning the translation of ‘Nearer, my God, to Thee,’ I slipped
away leaving them singing it, and got to my bed thoroughly exhausted.
Through the night, her husband knocked at our bedroom window, saying
she was dying. John sprang up and went to her side, offering a short
prayer, but her spirit fled before he had done, and she was buried amid
heart-felt lamentations before Church Service on Sabbath, 3rd February.
Our hearts were like to break, for she had been a faithful attached
servant—_daughter_, rather—to us for ten years; a sweet little thing
about eight or nine when she first came, and every year we liked her
better. She had a great lump of _heart_, and I can never forget her
devoted care of us all at that time when we were both laid up and our
precious baby died. It was she I trusted to put the little form in
its last resting-place, myself too weak to move! It was so sad to see
her friends going about the next few days, their eyes red and swollen
with weeping. Weeks after, on putting her Photo. into the hands of one
of the sewing women, her head sank lower over it till the heavy sobs
welled up; and as it was passed from one to another, there was hardly a
dry eye—so generally was she beloved. You have all the same likeness,
a true one, taken in Melbourne. Mungaw’s was not so good—at least it
did not do him justice in his best days; but it is charming to what he
looked like in his last few months—his face was so wild and ghastly.
“Poor fellow, I would fain pass over his sad end; but I must hasten on
and have done with him, as I daresay you are as tired of the subject as
I. The last open break out with his wife was on the day that her baby
was three weeks old. He was in a very excited state in the morning,
threw off his clothing, stuck on paint (he supplied himself with balls
of blue from our washing-house!), and seizing his musket, said he was
going to shoot some one ere he returned. The alarm spread, and John
came to me at the sewing class to warn the women; but he soon came
back, and I dismissed the School, feeling anxious to get the children
into the house (John would not budge from his usual work, but he had
always Natives with him), and get doors and windows shut. They had
hardly gone when terrible screams came from his house, and I flew to
implore our cooks to protect Litsi. Just then John rushed past me,
telling me I must not hinder him, as he could not hear that poor girl
being killed. Our boys ran with him, and met Litsi running from her
house covered with blood streaming from the back of her head. John
caught her as she fell forward in a fainting fit, and a woman caught up
her baby; they were carried to the Imrai, where John bound up her head
and revived her with brandy and water. I sent her some fresh clothes,
as John would not let me see her till she was revived and doctored, and
I followed with some dinner. Her tormentor was coming too, but John
gave him a look which made him disappear into the bush in quick style.
He re-appeared with the utmost coolness in a nice clean shirt about
half an hour afterwards, and walked right into the Mission Premises,
helping about a score of men to carry a huge log of wood which John
had asked them to bring for some purpose.—I forget what. During the
afternoon School he sat eyeing Litsi and grinning from the opposite
side of the Imrai, and chatting with the passers-by, as if he had done
no wrong!
“Poor Litzi sat leaning against the Church fence, too weak to notice
anything, but thought she was safer there when John had to be in
School. He told the Natives that she must not be left to her husband’s
tender mercies any longer, but that they must take her to one of their
distant villages, and if need be protect her with their muskets. Our
house was too near; and besides, if he burnt it to get her it would
simply mean death to us all,—our food was in it, and neither of us
being extra strong, we could not exist on roots and leaves like
Natives,—whereas any of their houses could be replaced in a few days.
He said also that it would never do for him to use arms,—his work was
to teach, theirs to protect each other when necessary. They all saw
the force of his words and heartily agreed with him, but all managed to
back out of it, one after another, Litsi being too high-spirited to ask
protection from any of them.
“When we heard that she was left with only a few women we both felt it
our duty to shelter her, regardless of consequences, and ran out to
fetch her; but the poor girl had fled with her two little ones to hide
for the night in a plantation, one or two women keeping her company.
“Amid all her own danger, she was mindful of us, and sent a messenger
to warn us that Mungaw would be sure to burn the house that night if
he could. We had a few necessaries selected, a cask of flour, hops for
yeast, changes of clothing, etc., to put into the Printing Office,
which would not burn so easily with its zinc roof; but when our
Aneityumese Teacher came after dark for their quiet removal, Mungaw
accompanied him as far as the door! We all laughed. It was no use,
with such a vigilant spy upon all our movements. But we were specially
reminded of some One watching over us.
“It began to pour torrents of rain, as it so often did when there was
imminent danger, and I sent coverings for the wanderers, hot tea, etc.,
by a circuitous path, with orders to take them to another invalid
should Mungaw meet them. Our girls entered eagerly into it, and poor
Litsi was made tolerably comfortable in body for the night, there
being an old deserted hut in the plantation. Next morning, her cousin
whispered to me that two men had taken her under protection to Towleka,
a village a mile off, and that Mungaw had no idea of her whereabouts,
supposing her to be with us, as he had sent word the evening before
that he would kill her if she went anywhere else.
“He got fearfully roused at not finding her by the afternoon, and
sprang up after writing a line or two of his copy (he insisted on
attending School) to go in search, beginning at the nearest villages,
armed with club and killing-stone, and nearly frightening the life out
of a dumpy little virago, who was in the habit of hen-pecking her own
husband. It was capital to see her thoroughly cowed for once! His wrath
grew with his want of success; and, returning after school, he told our
boys in a tone of suppressed rage that he was now going to Towleka to
kill Litsi if he found her there. One of them flew through the bush to
warn her of his approach, and John and I went to the Study to commit
her to God. I think I would have gone mad myself, if we had not had our
never-failing Refuge in these troublous times!
“We heard after retiring for the night an infant’s piteous wail, and
found that, failing to get the mother (for the Natives would not let
him finish her quite, though he dragged her out of the house by her
hair, _wool_ rather), he had torn the baby from her and rushed home
with it, knowing that she would follow it at any risk. It was _awfully_
hard to keep John in the house, but I felt there was not the slightest
use in going. We heard other voices remonstrating, and the cries
ceasing we knew that Litsi had come. About midnight, what seemed to
be the death wail in Litsi’s voice made us think he had murdered the
baby. It continued for about three hours, and rose to a perfect agony
of distress before stopping. On inquiry at daybreak, for which we
anxiously waited, it turned out that he had tied her arms and legs in
the most savage manner, only loosing her when two or three Natives went
to the rescue. It was at the risk of their lives they did it, and all
warned us not to go to their house that morning, as he was raving mad
and would not hesitate to kill any one coming near.
“We just felt that poor Litsi had all the more right to our sympathy,
when no one else would go. They insisted that she was dead and the baby
too, there was such silence round all the place. John would not let
me go alone, and I would not let him go alone, so we compromised the
matter by going together, and took a plentiful breakfast as an excuse
for intruding on his lordship’s privacy, the Natives looking after
with wistful eyes, but not one offering to accompany us to the lion’s
den! I trembled violently, though I felt the Lord was with us, and
was almost relieved when we found the house deserted; but John called
aloud for Litsi several times, and at last she came staggering from an
enclosure opposite, from which the occupant had fled when Mungaw first
went mad. She was trembling with pain and weakness, and when we were
going over the stile, she looked back alarmed and said, ‘You’d better
not, Missi,’ so we spoke a few cheering words as we stood, and told her
again that our house was open to her, night or day, whenever she needed
shelter.
“Some of the Church members came to ask what was to be done with him.
Tieing only made him worse; confining or shooting were the only other
alternatives. To confine him was impossible. Were they to shoot him?
John, of course, would not hear of that, and they asked if there
was no sort of medicine to cure madness! A near friend got him away
to his village, where they had a long talk, and warned him of the
consequences. The moment he went, I ran off to sit awhile with Litsi.
We feared she would sink under her trials, and wished she had access to
the rich consolations with which we were upheld every day in our little
readings both of the Bible and other books. It seemed as if the Words
were printed for our express circumstances and comfort. My own morning
Reading was in the Psalms, and I never felt them so suitable. The very
ones I used to think David had written in a fit of indigestion were
fraught with the deepest comfort and meaning, and favourite passages
were more precious than ever. I never noticed before that the passage,
‘Lead me to the Rock that is higher than I,’ begins with ‘From _the end
of the Earth_ will I cry unto Thee,’—so applicable to us! John and I
have often remarked to each other that we had to come all the way to
the South Seas to understand some bits of the Bible; and I see Bowen in
his ‘Daily Meditations’ says the same in reference to India, where he
laboured so devotedly as a Missionary. We have another precious book
which we were reading aloud and enjoyed next to the Bible,—Boardman’s
‘In the Power of the Spirit,’ given us also before leaving Australia.
“How we wished poor Litsi could share all these privileges, and
wondered if her faith were keeping alive at all, but her spirit was
beautifully submissive. When I told her that, however difficult it
might be for her to believe it, her Saviour God was tenderly caring
for her every moment and would not let her have one more trial than
she could bear, and that it would relieve her to take all her sorrows
to Him, she replied, ‘Oh, I know it, Missi; my whole words now are
prayer; for I have no one else to speak to, and would have gone mad if
I could not have told my Saviour! I tell Him everything, and know that
it is all right even if Mungaw should kill me, for he can’t harm me
beyond the grave.’ I told her not a single night passed that we were
not engaging in prayer for her, and she said,—‘These prayers have been
answered; for he has had the wish to kill me and burn your house, and
he could easily have done both had not God prevented.’
“The whole provocation (I forgot to say) he had for laying her head
open at this time, was her saying, ‘Oh, don’t do that!’ when he got up
to burn the fine new house he had nearly completed. She learned never
again to contradict him, even when he made the wildest proposals. The
next house he burnt, a neighbour’s, he told her with a diabolical grin
(he had such a beautiful smile in his sane days!) of his purpose,
and she merely said, ‘Are you?’ and slipped round to take everything
valuable out of it, as the owners were living a week or two on a lonely
little islet adjoining this, where the Natives often go for change and
fishing. Of course, they said nothing about it on their return; no one
in the Island was prepared to tackle such a character, and he presumed
accordingly, turning his attentions more to the general public after
this, and dividing his favours pretty equally over the whole Island. He
plundered the plantations in rotation, and shot all the pigs which came
in his way, bringing Litsi part of the spoil; but she suddenly seemed
possessed of the spirit of half a dozen, sternly refusing to touch one
morsel of stolen food, and took their eldest little boy to the furthest
village, begging the people to keep him as he was too young to refuse
what was stolen. She then came to beg of me for a dose of poison—she
thought the stuff we killed the rats with would do—as he was too wicked
to live, and would bring a judgment on the whole Island. She had such a
chance through the night when he fell into a deep sleep (the first time
he was known to sleep for many weeks), and she had a great wish to take
his life, but was afraid God would not like it.
“I confirmed her fears and counselled patience a little longer, as the
Missi was getting the boat repaired to go to Tanna, and it was well
known Mungaw wanted to go there and stay a while. This was the last
hope of the whole Island, and all were eager to see the boat finished,
none more so than I, having an additional reason, viz., that it took
John away to a distance nearly the whole day, and though he always left
me with a body-guard he was not so careful of himself. I must say, the
Natives were very thoughtful about him, however, and would not let him
continue to take his nightly turns in watching our house. They begged
him to arm himself, but that, of course, he would not do. He and our
Aneityumese Teacher were the only ones who would not carry a weapon of
any kind, or give in to him when it was right to be firm, and they were
the only two Mungaw had the slightest fear of; but he kept prowling
about our Premises day and night, for what intent he best knew. When
he used to set off on his peregrinations, it was such a relief to
throw windows and doors open for air; but back he would come with the
rapidity of a race horse. Many a fainting fit he gave me; and F. used
to get white to the lips when he appeared. Even little J. began to
lisp,—‘I frightened Mungaw!’
“About the only time I was thankful to see him come was after he had
been tracking John’s footsteps closer than I liked. I was watching
him from our front verandah as he went off to his boat, the two lads
a little before, when Mungaw suddenly appeared close behind him—axe
in hand. I could see a long way, and when John stooped to examine a
bush or fern Mungaw stopped too, always keeping right at his back.
Visions of the murdered Gordons rose vividly before me, and I felt
distracted. I knew that John and the boys were on their guard, and
plenty of Natives were about, but a blow could be so easily struck!
I went in-doors and told my God and then our Aneityumese Teacher (we
showed as little fear as possible before our Natives), so that if he
thought there was real danger he would go to him. He looked anxious and
questioned me minutely, but went on quietly with his work, and I tried
to follow his example; but my feet _would_ carry me to the verandah,
till the welcome sight of that usually dreaded form, tossing his axe in
the air and catching it by the handle, allayed all fears, for I knew
that had he done any harm he would have rushed into hiding.
“His last days were spent pulling up the people’s bananas and
sugar-cane, destroying what he could not devour. He took our boys’
blankets and boxes, and walked off with the lookingglass from the
girls’ house. Just the Sunday morning before he was shot he turned out
all the girls’ boxes while we were at breakfast, and pranced up and
down our front verandah. We had just finished our own Family Worship,
and John was going off for a little quiet to his Study, when we heard
the Church bell being furiously rung a full hour before the time! The
Natives already gathered stood staring at each other in consternation,
others hurried forward, thinking they were late, and the usual
bell-ringer came panting to know why the work was so unceremoniously
taken out of his hands! The more they begged Mungaw to leave off the
quicker he rang, till John ran out and ordered him to stop instantly,
which he did.
“He did not trouble us another Sunday, poor fellow, but he gave me two
or three thorough frights through the week, once surprising me suddenly
on the verandah, when mounted on a high box, and oil-painting the
woodwork of the house. On the following Saturday morning, as we were in
the garden, Litsi passed the fence and I ran to her. She said, ‘When
will the boat be ready, Missi?’ I told her that there was just a little
paint to finish to-day, and it would sail on Monday, so she would have
only two days more of endurance. She jumped and clapped her hands,
saying, ‘My heart sings, for he’s sure to go!’
“But that same evening, as we sat at a late tea, our spirits brighter
than usual, feeling that relief was near (though it came not in the way
we expected), for the _Dayspring_ was to leave Sydney on Monday and
would be getting nearer us every day, we heard the fatal shot go off
close beside us! We have heard as loud reports and even nearer, when
they were killing flying foxes or birds, which caused us nothing more
than a start and a laugh; but there was something in that which made us
spring simultaneously from our seats and stand in awe. John said, ‘Some
one is shot! Either Mungaw, or some one by his hand.’ He had barely
uttered the words, when the awful death-wail in Litsi’s voice confirmed
our fears. Our girls rushed in from the bath-room, where they had
been filling baths and getting all ready for Sunday, and said, ‘That’s
Mungaw, Missi, for the Inahutshi people told us not to be alarmed if we
heard a shot after dark, as we would know it was Mungaw killed.’
“It had all been deliberately arranged, and we knew not a word about
it. John said, ‘Then I must run and see what I can do for the poor
fellow,’ and was off; but another loud report made me implore him to
come back, till we ascertained certainly what the matter was, as he
might be shot in the dark without any one meaning it, and F. decided
the matter by saying in a faint voice, ‘Papa, will you stay and take
care of us?’ His papa put his arm round him and said, ‘Yes, my boy,
I’ll not leave the room again.’
“Two or three Natives came to tell us that Mungaw was shot dead, and
that John’s going would be no use now. He engaged in prayer, and oh,
how our hearts bled for the poor fellow! Now that his sad end had
come, we could only think of him as he once was; as, for instance, we
saw him one evening years before stand calm and tranquil, with three
enraged men pointing their muskets at him for spoiling some Heathen
performance, and telling them he would not fight, and that the worst
they could do would only send him to Heaven. Or again, as he used to go
about pleading with the young boys (a mere boy himself) not to follow
the footsteps of their fathers, but come out decidedly for the Lord
Jesus. Or again, we thought of the time when he was John’s right hand
man, and would almost have laid down his life to serve him. His two
nearest friends, on coming to ask if they would bury him at once, laid
down their heads and sobbed aloud, though, like all the Aniwans, they
had wished for his death. It was a sad, sad night; the hurried and
midnight burial, the suppressed excitement, the fear and uncertainty
about the real murderers and what would follow next, and last of all
that young and once noble fellow cut down in the midst of his days.
“He had just left our Premises and gone home for supper, and then had
worship (!) with Litsi, after which she told him not to go outside, as
two or three men had been watching for three nights to get a good aim
at him. He courted death and _would_ go out, saying to Litsi, ‘You
come with me.’ She went out first and thought she saw a man standing;
but next moment the attention of both was suddenly directed to a meteor
in its transit, and while gazing at it the musket went off, going
through Mungaw’s body from arm to arm. He fell down by his own door,
crying, ‘_Awai!_’ (= Alas!), and died immediately, the murderers making
their escape as they shot the other musket into the air....
“You may be sure, after these trying times and seven months’ utter
silence regarding our absent ones, we were intensely delighted to
welcome the dear old _Dayspring_ once more. But strange as it may seem,
this is our most trying time; for all the anxiety of the past months
seems to accumulate into an agony of suspense, from the time her sails
are discerned till we have opened the most desired-for letters of our
mail and found all well. She arrived at Aniwa just two days after we
calculated upon seeing her, April 24th. The first announcement of her
approach came as we were assembled in Church at three o’clock for
the prayer-meeting; and I’m afraid the Services had not their usual
interest for me! How John could proceed quietly with his address, under
the excitement, was a puzzle; for I saw him start, and we exchanged
earnest looks, as the well-known cry greeted our ears, and then two
Natives came panting in with beaming faces, darting intelligent looks
all around.
“The Service _did_ come to an end at last, and then every one’s tongue
was loosed. It _was_ the _Dayspring_ without doubt; but was there
wind enough to bring her in that day? I made an agreement with the
herd who went for the goats to shout again if it were very near, and
soon a dozen voices yelled back the answer. I flew to give orders for
all sorts of preparations, but not a girl was to be found, all having
rushed up the hill to see for themselves; and when they came, they were
so mad with joyful excitement, that instead of their usual respectful
demeanour they tumbled heels over head on the verandah two or three
times, before they could compose themselves to work; and so many little
things waiting to be done!...
“We gathered round such a happy tea-table; for it is the most
exquisite treat to have intercourse with kindred spirits in our own
tongue, after jabbering so many months to the Darkies, and to get all
the news from the civilized world. Such a Mail too! Over one hundred
letters, and no end of papers. We simply looked at all your different
handwritings, but devoured our bairns’ monthly budgets that night after
our visitors had retired to their rooms....
“The second Communion since our return also took place at this time,
and was a season of great refreshing and comfort; but the sight of that
little group of Communicants is always too much for me, especially when
they stand up to sing so heartily! I could fain lay down my head and
sob, were it not that I have the harmonium to attend to and must crush
my heart down as best I can. All our trials and privations, looked at
in the light of that little _sable band_ (glancing back at what they
once were) now sitting at their Lord’s Table, seem as nothing—as less
than nothing.
“A stranger might simply have his _risibles_ excited by the somewhat
grotesque costume of the congregation. Indeed, I had to turn away my
own head, as our two worthy Elders came in for the ‘Elements’ before
the Service, with the most imposing gravity, with manifest devotion
in their looks, but in all the dignity of their office, and with
special hats to grace the occasion. The one had his white shirt done
up round his hat so as to represent a puggaree, and, as it hung a
long way behind, he had to keep his head well-balanced for fear of it
falling back. As for the other, who or what his hat had been originally
intended for, we were at a loss to divine! It has always been our
difficulty to get them large enough to include their _wool_; but this,
a light grey chimney-pot, overtopped wool and all till it rested on the
tip of his nose, which fortunately being a very large one prevented his
face from disappearing altogether!...
“The Captain’s plan was to land us on Sunday morning, lie off and
on till Monday to land our luggage and some wood John had bought on
Aneityum, and then return for the McDonalds at Port Resolution on his
way northward. Mrs. Milne and I lay pillowed on deck, enjoying the
moonlight till quite late, and having such a musical treat from Mr.
Michelsen, who sings and accompanies himself on the guitar with great
taste. He had been playing it on deck in the afternoon, and we begged
him to bring it up again after tea. The moon was brilliantly reflected
on the water, and the ship lying so still, when he began with the
exquisite guitar accompaniment to sing ‘Jesus, lover of my soul,’—the
Missionaries standing round and joining softly in parts, while we were
quietly crying. I have heard Oratorios in the old country rendered
so that they almost took one out of the body, but never anything
that went to my heart like this! You would need to take in the whole
circumstances to know how we felt it. The Vessel, with her little band
of Missionaries so far from kindred and country, and about to separate
for their lonely homes, and we knew not how much trial awaiting them!...
“We have already 600 lbs. of Arrowroot (to pay for the Gospel-books)
put up, mostly in 10 lb. bags. The Natives are still making more, and
the demands upon me for calico have been endless. After ransacking
boxes for every inch that could be got to dry it upon and to make bags,
I had to sacrifice all my common sheets and table-cloths; and, while
trying to bear up under this calamity with Christian fortitude, John
roused all the old Adam in me, by coolly bidding me be quick and get
out my _linen_ ones and best table-cloths, as it was a splendid day for
drying! I emphatically declared that my few best things should remain
untouched, though the Natives should never get their books; and, by a
little management in making the others do, I have kept to my _wicked_
vow....
“It is now the 1st of August, though I see that I began this on the 8th
of July, and I have not begun to write a single _private_ letter, and
so many to answer; and the huge piles, which made our eyes dance with
joy on receiving them, are regarded rather ruefully, now that we have
got to reply to them! I must leave out, therefore, all other items of
interest which I intended writing, as this is already far too long,—and
close with warmest love from
“Your ever-loving Sister,
“MAGGIE WHITECROSS PATON.”
(1879.)
TO THE FAMILY CIRCLE.
“MY DEAREST SISTERS AND BROTHERS,—....
“Our next bit of excitement was on New Year’s Day, when the usual
shooting match came off, and prizes were awarded to the winners.
The most amusing part to us was the racing amongst younger boys and
girls. The Chief, whom John had placed in charge of the prizes, would
put a belt, necktie, or bit of red calico on a post at a certain
distance off, and then the word of command was given to the eager
little monkeys, and they made such a scramble as they neared it! The
grand entertainment, however,—the Magic Lantern, was reserved for the
evening, and was quite a success. Everybody on the island that was able
to crawl at all put in an appearance, including two old bed-ridden
women, who set out in the early morning and managed a journey of two
miles by the time it got dark! John had all Mr. Watt’s slides, as well
as his own, and the Natives were in perfect ecstasies of delight the
whole evening; but when he finished off with ‘the revolving light,’
they fairly yelled with delight and amazement, declaring it must be
‘Tetovas’ (= gods) who made that!...
“The Vessel turned out to be a _Slaver_, and sent in a boat with
Native crew and two white men in search of Natives. The boat kept in
deep water just outside the reef, and some Aniwans waded out and were
shouted to in ‘Sandal-wood English.’ They wanted men or boys, and
would give a musket for every one they got. Our Natives shouted back
that they were ‘Missi’s worshipping people,’ and did not want to go
with Traders. One of the white men stupidly (it must have been in fun)
levelled a musket at one of our Natives, when the cap snapped and set
the Natives in a great rage, believing that he tried to kill some of
them. The man levelled at, a fiery fellow, a returned labourer, flew
for his musket and would have made short work with the white man, had
not John and the Church members interfered,—John actually standing
right between him and the boat to prevent shots being fired. He waved
the boat off with his hat, pointing to the armed men, which they seemed
to comprehend, and after returning hats they made for the ship, which
soon disappeared in the horizon.
“I was annoyed enough at John exposing himself, not that a person
on Aniwa now would harm him, for I often wish that they loved their
Saviour as much as they do their Missionary, but it is seldom one’s
duty to stand in the way of loaded muskets! You would hardly believe,
though, the kind of thanks he got from the wretches he tried to save.
They went to Faté, wrote out a paper to the effect that ‘they had
called at Aniwa for labourers, but that the Missionary, Mr. Paton,
had come out to attack them at the head of an armed party. The man in
charge of the boat, however, had Mr. Paton covered with his rifle,
so that had a single shot been fired into it he would have fallen in
revenge.’ And the paper has been posted up on the door of the principal
store in Havannah Harbour! Those are the sort of men, authorized by
our British Government to scour these Islands. We were perfectly
thunderstruck when Mr. McDonald happened to mention it to John, after
he had decided to go North, in case he should see it himself. Mr.
McDonald sees enough of the Traders and their doings, and treated it
with amused contempt as it deserved.
“It is nearly as bad as the Nguna case, where the chief mate of the
_Jason_ swore in a Queensland law-court that the Rev. P. Milne caused
the Natives to fire into his boat. A Man-of-war was despatched to
inquire into the proceedings of this dreadful Missionary, and it was
proved that poor Mr. Milne was sound asleep in his bed (it was early
morning), and did not even know of the affray till months after it
happened. It was the two husbands of two Native women, that this honest
mate was trying to make off with (and did make off with), that owned
to having fired the shots! It is not the first time that John has
interfered to save the worthless lives of these Slavers; but the whole
fraternity may be riddled with bullets before I consent to his stirring
his finger again in their miserable quarrels....
“Litsi has since consoled herself with another husband,—related to
poor Mungaw, and a real love-match, as they both freely confessed.
Litsi was as playful and coy over it as a young lassie; though,
when she stood up for the ceremony, she whisperingly informed the
bystanders with a giggle that she didn’t want to get married! I suppose
she thought some appearance of an apology necessary for her third
presentation in that Church as a bride. We felt thankful when the
marriage was past, for there had been the usual scramble to get her and
consequent bitterness of feeling by the rejected ones, some of them
far handsomer and better men than the prize winner, but Noopooraw had
shown the depth of his affection by threatening _to kill her_ if she
did not have him, which according to Native is the strongest expression
of devotion, and is precisely the same as a wildly-enthusiastic admirer
at home threatening _to kill himself_ in similar circumstances. The
despairing lover in these Seas never dreams of taking away his own
life, but hers instead, finding that probably the more powerful
argument of the two!...
“It is getting very late and I must pass over all else and tell you
what a charming time we had at Erromanga, where the Mission Synod was
held this year. Mrs. McDonald and I were the only ladies to keep Mrs.
Robertson company; and I was complimented upon now being the “mother”
of the Mission, and carrying my honours quite becomingly—having become
plump and vigorous since the Hurricane.... It seemed like fairy
land to enter dear Mrs. Robertson’s pretty, shady, cool house after
enduring two days’ suffocation with the horrid bilge water on board the
_Dayspring_.... Every day brought us fresh pleasures, afternoon rambles
on the mountains and walks by the river course up that beautiful
valley, when ‘the brethren’ were at liberty to dance attendance on us,
having all their Synod business over before dinner.... How pleasantly
those days flew past, only they can understand who have been cut off
from kindred spirits as we are! We three ladies were, of course, all
that could be wished for (?); and every one of the Missionaries was
kinder than another. Even in Synod, where Ministers are apt to indulge
in the grace of _candour_ to an uncalled-for degree, there was not a
jarring word—owing, perhaps, to that bilge water having taken all the
bile out of them on the voyage!... The house is charmingly situated
on terraced ground at the foot of a high mountain, near the centre of
the Bay, with that lovely river to the right flowing past within a few
yards of the enclosure.... Our eyes were constantly wandering off to
the lovely scene before us,—and one with a history too! That very river
was once reddened with the blood of Williams and of Harris; and the
grass-covered mountain towering up from it was the scene of the Gordon
tragedy,—while their grave-stones gleam white through the greenery on
its opposite banks. Dear Mr. McNair’s grave is close beside them. All
looked so peaceful now, with the _Dayspring_ lying quietly at anchor in
the Bay, and canoes manned by _Christian_ Natives paddling about in its
blue waters!
“What a contrast to these former days of blood; and even a contrast,
as the Robertsons told us, to what they had to suffer only in January
last. The Heathen Chiefs were getting fierce at the rapid strides
Christianity was making all round the Island, and laid a deep plot to
take the Missionaries’ lives. They chose their time well, when nearly
all Mr. Robertson’s young men were away at Cook’s Bay; and you may
imagine his and Mrs. Robertson’s feelings, when the alarm got up one
night as they sat quietly reading. They went into their bedroom and
took their stand beside their three sleeping children. Escape by sea
was impossible, even could they get to their boat, the night being
stormy. Mrs. Robertson turned to her husband and said,—‘Do you think
they could touch those sleeping lambs?’ He smiled bitterly,—‘What do
they care for our sleeping lambs?’ Yomit, a devoted Erromangan Teacher,
came in to them, and she turned to him, saying,—‘O Yomit, do you think
they could have the heart to kill those little sleeping darlings?’ He
raised his arm and said,—‘Missi, they’ll have to cut this body of mine
in pieces ere ever they get near them!’ He started off and collected
all the available help necessary, sending secret messages overland
in different directions to their friends, so that before morning the
Mission House was surrounded by 200 warriors, ready to give their
lives in defence of their Missionary. And these were the very men
who murdered the Gordons;—explain the change! Jesus has been amongst
them!...
“Our visit there was all too short, as the Synod lasted only a week. We
commemorated the Lord’s Supper together, on the Sabbath evening before
we broke up. One evening too there was an interesting Bible Society
meeting, at which John was Chairman; and, in response to an urgent
appeal from London, Mr. Copeland proposed that Missionaries and seamen
should all add a day’s wages to their usual subscription—which was most
willingly agreed to....
“We tore across from Erromanga with a good wind, landing about sundown,
and got a warm welcome from our dear old Darkies, who had all turned
out in their best garments to meet us, though it was pouring rain.
John went on in the _Dayspring_ to be left on Tanna for a fortnight at
Kwamera, to make some small return for the Watts’ great kindness to our
Natives while we were in Melbourne.... He enjoyed his fortnight there
intensely. The Mission Premises were like a new pin, and the Tannese
longing for Mr. and Mrs. Watts’ return with their whole hearts. Their
little boys and girls at the Station attended to John so faithfully,
and continually followed him about, asking daily and often in a day the
same question,—‘When will our Missis be back?’ There are more than the
Tannese longing for their return, and it will be a glad day when we see
their dear faces again....
“John has decided not to make any change for another year, if at all
able to hold on. It is no use now for me to pretend I’m delicate, as
appearances so tell against me! But I insist that I’ve got _heart_
disease, and that only the sight of my bairns can cure it....
“It is only a week yesterday since John returned from Kwamera, and
was overwhelmed with such an ovation as he never yet got from our
Natives. They opened their hearts to the most unheard-of generosity,
and actually parted with their precious _pigs_ to show their love for
him, besides a great quantity of yam. They also gave a present about
half the size of ours to the Captain of the _Dayspring_,—pigs, yams,
cocoa-nuts, and bananas. His were laid on the centre patch of grass
before the house, and John’s to the side, in front of the Study door.
The pigs (thirteen in number!), all tied and laid out to be seen to
the best advantage (they were _heard_ too), so that when Captain and
Mrs. Braithwaite and John arrived they were greeted with—
‘Pigs to the right of them,
Pigs to the left of them,
Pigs in front of them,
Guzzling and grunting.’
How they did grunt! The Captain growled out his thanks in sailor’s
phraseology, which having translated, John walked round to the side,
followed by his grinning Parishioners, and politely thanked them for
their kind gifts to us,—telling them that it was the feeling which
prompted it more than the gift itself which he valued! I felt that he
was telling the truth in all sincerity, for he hates the very sight of
pork, and whispered aside to me,—‘What on earth are we to do with all
these beasts?’...
“We expect the _Dayspring_ in about a fortnight to call for our mail,
and as I’ve a very large one to answer it is time it were begun, for
we’ll be very much interrupted by the arrowroot making. The whole of
the Natives are busy digging it up at present, and the Premises will be
like a beehive in a few days when they begin to grate it. We were so
pleased to be able to tell them that the last sold so very well through
the great kindness of Melbourne friends. The calico in the South Yarra
boxes—worth its weight in gold—is being sewed up into sheets and bags
for drying and packing it, as fast as ever we can; but we hardly expect
it to be ready to go till the December trip of the vessel. They are to
have _another book of the Bible_ printed in the Aniwan language.
“Ever, with warmest love,
“Your loving Sister,
“MAGGIE WHITECROSS PATON.”