Twelve teachers and their friends killed at Kalo in 1881--The warning--The
massacre--The fear for the teachers at Koma--Mr. Chalmers's views on the
question--Voyage westwards in the _Mayri_--A Sunday at Delena--Visit of
Queen Koloka--Threatened attack by Lolo natives--The fight--Peace--Miria's
village--Bad character of the Motu natives--Visit to the chief of Motu
Lavao--Story of Dr. Thorngren's murder--Peace made with the village.
On the 7th of March, 1881, the natives of Kalo, a village at the head of
Hood Bay, near the mouth of the Kemp Welch River, massacred their
teacher, Anederea, with his wife and two children; also Materua, teacher
of Kerepunu, his wife and two children; Taria, teacher of Hula; Matatuhi,
an inland teacher; and two Hula boys--in all, twelve persons.
The earliest news of the tragedy was given in the following letter from
the Rev. T. Beswick, dated Thursday Island, Torres Straits, March 24th:--
On Friday, the 4th inst., Taria, our Hula teacher, left Port Moresby
with Matatuhi, an inland teacher, the latter wishing to visit the Kalo
teacher for some native medicine. Reaching Hula on the evening of the
4th, Taria heard a rumour that the Kalo people intended to kill their
teacher and his family. Accordingly he went thither the following
day, along with Matatuhi, and requested the Kalo teacher and his
family to leave at once. The teacher refused to place credence in the
rumour, and even questioned his chief and pretended friend, who
assured him that there was not the slightest grain of truth in the
rumour.
The Hula teacher returned, leaving Matatuhi behind. On Monday, the
7th, Taria, along with five Hula boys, proceeded in a boat to Kalo and
Kerepunu, with the view of bringing the teachers and their families to
Hula, on account of the ill-health of some of the party. He called at
Kalo on the way thither, and apprised the teacher of his intention to
call on the return journey. At Kerepunu he took on board the teacher,
his wife and two children, and one native youth. The party then
proceeded to Kalo. During the interval of waiting there, the chief
and pretended friend of the Kalo teacher got into the boat for a chat.
On the arrival of Matatuhi and the Kalo teacher, along with his wife
and two children, the chief stepped out of the boat. This was the pre-
arranged signal for attack to the crowds assembled on the bank. At
the outset, the chief warned his followers not to injure the Hula and
Kerepunu boys; but such precaution did not prevent two of the former
being killed. The other four boys escaped by swimming the river. The
mission party were so cooped up in the boat, and spears flew so
thickly and fast, as to render resistance futile and escape
impossible. Taria resisted for a time, but a fourth spear put an end
to his resistance. The others were dispatched with little trouble. A
single spear slew both mother and babe in the case of both women. The
only bodies recovered were those of the Kerepunu teacher's wife and
her babe; the natives of Hula and Kerepunu severally interred the two
bodies. The rest of the bodies became a prey to the alligators. For
the two Hula boys who were slain speedy compensation was made by the
Kalo people. The whale-boat, too, was recovered by the Hula natives.
[A Hula girl: 167.jpg]
The above sad intelligence reached Port Moresby at early morn of the
11th, just as the _Harriet_ was about to leave for Thursday Island, and
the _Mayri_ about to take me to Hula, whilst a party of foreigners were
leaving for the East End. The news, of course, upset all arrangements,
and, after the first moments of excitement were over, our next concern
was about the safety of the two Aroma teachers. With as little delay as
possible, but with groundless forebodings of coming evil, a large party
of us left for Aroma. About ten a.m. of the 14th, we reached there, and
whilst our three boats lay off a little, so as not to arouse suspicion, a
teacher and myself went ashore. With devout gratitude I heard that both
teachers and natives were ignorant of the massacre. In less than an hour
the two teachers and their families were safely ensconced in their whale-
boat, taking along with them but a minimum of their property, according
to the orders given. By these means the chiefs and natives of Aroma were
left in utter ignorance as to the cause of our erratic movements, nor did
they seem to suspect anything.
At Kerepunu we experienced considerable noise and worry. Here, too, we
judged it prudent to remove very little belonging to the deceased
teacher. At Hula, my house had been entered, but the few things stolen
were mostly returned. Here, too, we have left goods, until some definite
course be decided upon. Strange to say, at Hula, where we expected the
least trouble and danger, there we had the greatest; indeed, on one or
two occasions, affairs assumed a rather serious aspect. The main idea
present in the native mind was to take advantage of us in our weakness
and sorrow. After a very brief stay at Hula, we left there on the 15th,
reaching Port Moresby the following day; and on the 17th I left for
Thursday Island.
The natives of Hood Bay attribute this massacre to the influence of
Koapina, the Aroma chief, he having assured the Kalo people that
foreigners might be massacred with impunity, citing as an illustration
the massacre at Aroma last July, and pointing out at the same time the
great fame that had thereby accrued to his own people. The Kalo people
have not been slow in acting upon his advice. I visited Hula and
Kerepunu within six weeks of the massacre, and was so impressed with the
peaceful bearing of the people in both places that I should have been
glad to have re-occupied both stations immediately.
I should have visited Kalo, but was afraid of compromising the mission,
as it is possible the natives may be punished for the outrage. I fear we
are not altogether free from blame; the teachers are often very
indiscreet in their dealings with the natives, and not over-careful in
what they say; there has also, perhaps, sometimes been a niggard regard
to expense on our part. A very few pounds spent at a station like Kalo
in the first years would, I believe, prevent much trouble, and probably
murder. The Kalo natives felt that Hula and Kerepunu got the most
tobacco and tomahawks, and that their share was small indeed. Instead of
our buying all the thatch required for the other stations--only
obtainable at Kalo--we got the teachers, with their boys, to get it. We
meant it well, to save expense. My experience teaches me to throw all I
can in the way of natives not connected with our head station. At this
station--Port Moresby--for the next few years the expenses will be
considerable in buildings, laying out the land, and in presents to the
constant stream of visitors; but it will have a Christianizing and a
civilizing effect upon a large extent of country.
On the 24th of May, 1881, left Port Moresby in the _Mayri_, and, having
taken on board four natives at Boera, continued a westerly course,
anchoring next day in Hall Sound, opposite Delena. Early on the morning
of May 26th, Kone and Lavao, our old friends, came off. They say it is
useless going to Maiva, as we cannot land; but we can go and see for
ourselves, and they will accompany us. I had to land to eat pigs,
_i.e_., receive pigs and hand them over to my followers. On landing,
they led me up the hill at the back of village, where I was astonished to
find a fine tract of land forming a splendid position for a house. Kone
at once offered me as much land as I wanted. After thinking it over on
board, I decided on building. I landed tents, and pitched them on the
rise above the village. My experience is that places quite exposed to
south-east wind are _more_ unhealthy than swampy country. On Rarotonga
there were more deaths on the windward side of the island than on the
leeward.
On the Sunday after landing, we went down and had service in the village.
Kone interpreted into Lolo. When telling the people we had no work for
them on Sunday, Kone said: "Oh! we know, and we, too, are going to be
_helaka_ (sacred) to-morrow." I asked him, "Come, Kone, how do you
know?" "From Boera." I met a lad repeating the Lord's Prayer in Motu,
and found he had been taught by Piri. The Motu tribe has already had
great influence, and will have more and more every year. I have an
interesting class of children, and hope, before we leave, they will know
their letters well.
What nonsense one could write of the reception here--such as "Everybody
at service this morning listened attentively; commented on address or
conversation; children all come to school, so intelligent, and seemingly
anxious to learn; and, altogether, prospects are bright." At home they
would say, why, they are being converted; see the speedy triumph! Alas!
they are but savages, pure and simple, rejoicing in the prospect of an
unlimited supply of tobacco, beads, and tomahawks.
Paura, a chief from Motu Lavao, is in. The people, it seems, told him,
being _helaka_ day, I could not meet him, and he did not come up hill. He
is rather a nice-looking fellow, with a mild, open countenance. Kone
told him to tell the Paitana natives, who murdered James and Thorngren,
that, if they wished peace and friendship, they must come in here and sue
for it; that I could not first go to them, as they were the offenders and
murderers.
Arrangements were at once made for erecting a wooden house at Delena,
measuring thirty-six feet by eighteen feet, material for which was easily
procurable. On the 30th of May, Queen Koloka, her husband, and a number
of men and women came in. The Prince Consort first came up, all over
smiles, followed in half an hour by his wife and maids. After formally
receiving her, I presented Mrs. Lawes's present. I unloosed the parcel,
and turned maid-of-honour in real waiting. Her Majesty was chewing betel-
nut, but that did not prevent my putting the dress on; first attempt all
wrong, the front became the back, and the back the front. At length I
succeeded, and, after fastening the dress, tied a pretty kerchief round
the royal neck. There was great excitement, in every mouth a thumb, a
few moments of silence, and then every soul spoke and shouted. It was
amusing to see her husband, uncles, maids, old men and women, young men
and maidens, gather round the royal presence, wonder and admire, and then
shout, _Oh misi haine O_! (Mrs. Lawes). Ah, Koloka, I wonder how you are
going to get out of that dress to-night; will you understand buttons,
hooks, and eyes?
During my stay at Delena, one of those warlike incursions by hostile
tribes so common in New Guinea took place. My presence and influence
happily brought about an early and satisfactory settlement of the
dispute. I extract the following from my journal:--
_June_ 2_nd_.--Our friends seem troubled, and their house-building
earnestness is somewhat abated. I find they have heard that the Lolo
tribe intend making a raid on them. Is it on them, or on us? Their
great hope is that we shall use our guns, and so frighten the invaders. I
tell them that we cannot do this; that we are men of peace, and have no
wish to frighten any one. It seems Maiva is very disturbed; they are
fighting all round, avenging Oa's death, and may soon be expected here.
Maiva would not interfere with us, but Lolo I would not trust.
We shall have to keep a good look-out to-night. Our friends seem very
troubled and excited. I have given warning that any one coming near our
camp must call out my name and his or her own. No one can come near
without our knowing, as my terrier Flora is a splendid watch-dog. This
evening, some women passed camp, carrying their valuables to hide away in
the bush. Bob asks, "Suppose Lolo natives come to us, what we do?" "Of
course they will not come near to us unless they mean to attack, and then
we must defend ourselves." The guns are ready. It is not pleasant; but
I fancy they will not molest us, so hope to sleep well, knowing we are
well cared for by Him who is never far off. Through much trouble we get
to be known, and the purpose for which we come is understood.
[A Hula dandy: 175.jpg]
3_rd_.--Last night I slept lightly, with Flora on watch, and Bob easily
aroused. After midnight he kept watch. We placed the lights beyond
tents on each side, and so arranged that the light would strike on any
native nearing camp. About two a.m. Lavao's wife No. 2 came up with her
grandchild, goods, and chattels for safety. The Loloans were coming. All
right; all ready. Very loud, noisy talking in village. At four, we
called out for Kone, who came up telling us that we should be first
disposed of, then Delena. I went to the village, and saw the old
friendly chief from Lavao. I told him any Loloan coming over the brow of
the hill with weapons we should consider as coming to fight, and we were
ready. At five, women and children crowded into camp, with all their
belongings, and asked for protection. Certainly; we shall do what we can
for them. Men are running all about, planting arms in convenient places
in the bush. We are told to keep a good look-out--and that we shall. It
is now daylight, so we do not care much. The fight has begun in the
village. Some Loloans, running after Delena natives, rush uphill; we
warn them back, and they retire. There is a loud shout for us to go to
the village and fight. I leave Bob with guns and cartridges to keep
watch over camp. I have more confidence in the skirmish unarmed, and
have no wish for the savages to think I have come to fight. I shout out
_Maino_, and soon there is a hush in the terrible storm. I am allowed to
walk through the village, disarm one or two, and, on my return to our
friend Kone's end of the village, he whispers to me, "There is Arua,"
understanding him to mean the chief, or _vata tauna_ (sorcerer). I
recognize in him the man introduced to me on a former visit, and who in
wrath cleared out from my presence. Now might be his time to pay me out.
I take his weapons from him, link him on to me, and walk him up the hill.
I speak kindly to him, show him flag, and tell him we are _maino_, and
warn him that his people must on no account ascend the hill. All right,
he will stop the fighting. I sit down to write this, when again they
rush up for me, saying Kone was to be killed. Leaving Bob with arms in
charge, I go down to the village, and without my hat. More canoes have
arrived. What a crowd of painted fiends! I get surrounded, and have no
way of escape. Sticks and spears rattle round. I get a knock on the
head, and a piece of stick falls on my hand. My old Lavao friend gets
hold of me and walks me to outskirt. Arua and Lauma of Lolo assure me
they will not ascend the hill, and we had better not interfere with them.
"Right, friend; but you must stop, and on no account injure my friend
Kone." It would frighten them were we to go armed to the village; but
then we dare not stay here twenty-four hours after. I can do more for
the natives unarmed. I am glad I am able to mix with both parties; it
shows they mean us no harm, and speaks well for the future. No one was
killed, but several were severely wounded, and a few houses destroyed.
They have made peace at last, and I have had a meeting in the village
with all; the Loloans have promised to be quiet. I told them we could
not stay if they were to be constantly threatening. In the afternoon the
chiefs came up, and I promised to visit them all. My head aches a
little. Had I been killed, I alone should have been to blame, and not
the natives. The Delena natives say: "Well, Tamate, had you not been
here, many of us would have been killed, and the remainder gone to Naara,
never to return." There is some pleasure in being of a little use even
to savages.
The next Sunday we had a splendid service. All the young fellows dressed
for it by painting their faces. It was amusing and interesting to hear
them interpret all I said from Motuan into Loloan; and when I attempted
to use a Lolo word, they corrected me if I wrongly pronounced or
misplaced it. After service we had all the children and young men to
school. A goodly number have got a pretty fair hold of letters. Some
would beat native cloth, and Kone grew very angry, and, because they
would not listen to him, threatened to pull up his recently buried child.
I sent word that he must on no account do that, and must say no more to
the men beating cloth; that by-and-by the people will become enlightened,
and then they will understand the Sabbath. Poor Kone's idea is that now
and at once they should understand.
On June 6th, I once more left Delena to proceed to Maiva, and, although a
heavy sea was running at the time, landed safely about eleven a.m. at
Miria's village, on the Maiva coast. I saw a number of people with
_karevas_ (long fighting sticks), and wondered what was the matter. I
said to my old friend Rua, who met me on the beach, "Are you going to
fight?" "No, no; it is all right now." I gave him a large axe for
Meauri and party to cut wood for a house at their village. Meauri and a
number of followers soon made their appearance: it seemed strange that
they should have come down so soon. Miria, the chief, being away cutting
wood, went to Meauri's village, passing through several seaside villages.
We selected a new position for the house, at the back of a large temple;
gave them tobacco and red cloth, they promising gladly to have wood cut
against my next return. Sitting on the platform, Rua turned to me and
asked, "Tamate, who is your real Maiva friend?" Fancying there was
trouble, I replied, "Oa Maoni, who sleeps in that house in death, was my
friend: Meauri, Rua, Paru, and Aua are now my friends." "I thought so,
and Miria has no business to build a house for you. Before we saw the
boat we were down on the beach at Miria's village to begin a quarrel; we
saw you were coming, and we waited for you." "But I want a house on the
coast as well as inland; Miria's village is small and too exposed, and I
must look for another place." "That is all right; but this first." "Be
it so." After visiting three villages I had not seen before, and going
through all the inland ones, I returned to Miria's village; he not having
returned, I went along to Ereere. After dark, Miria came in. He felt
sorry when I told him I could not put a house up in his place, owing to
its being exposed to south-east wind, and to there not being many people.
"But I have cut the wood." "I shall pay you for that, and the wood can
remain for my return." I gave him tobacco for the young men and a
present to himself, and all was right.
A few mornings later, I found the natives sitting round rice; one said,
"Come, we are waiting for you to bless the food." They have seen our
boats' crews of Botu and Boera natives always asking a blessing. I said
to them, "Cannot one of you ask a blessing?"
"No; wait until we learn, and you will see." A good story is told by the
captain of the _Mayri_. Oa their going to Aroma to relieve the teachers
after the Kalo massacre, in the early morning they were pulling along the
reef, and just as the sun appeared over the mountains, one of the Motu
crew called on all to be quiet, rowers to lean on their oars, and then
engaged in prayer, thanking God for watching over them during the night,
and praying that He would care for them during the day, and that no
unpleasantness might occur with the Aroma natives. All along this coast,
and right away down to Elema as far as Bald Head, the Motu tribe has a
wonderful influence, and in a few years excellent pioneers may be had
from it. They must have been a terrible lot in the past. I have heard
much from themselves of piracy, murder, and robbery, and all along here
they tell terrible tales. A Motu chief in one of our meetings, speaking
of the past and the present, concluded by saying: "Since the arrival of
the foreigners (teachers), we have changed and will continue to change."
An old chief, Aiio, from the Mekeo district, came in to see me, and
brought me as a present a splendid head-dress, which is hung up by Kone
in front of the tent for all to see. On giving him a present of salt, it
was pleasant to see the old fellow's expression of pleasure. He is
anxious I should go inland as soon as possible; I tell him I must wait
for tomahawks.
At seven o'clock on the morning of the 13th of June, I started to visit
Madu, the chief of the Motu Lavao. We went up from the bight, a large
saltwater creek, with dense mangrove on both banks,--a veritable bed of
fever,--and anchoring our boats, we walked through the deserted village
of Paitana and on for about a mile and a half to Motu Lavao. The path
leads along a narrow tract of good country, with dense swamps on both
sides. The village is large, with good houses kept nice and clean; but I
can conceive of no more unhealthy locality--swamp all around. A number
of people were down with fever, some in their houses, others lying
exposed to the sun. I asked them if they had no _vatavata_ (spirits)
knocking around in their district, and did they not much trouble them.
"Oh, trouble us much, very much." I told them I thought so, and the
sooner they removed from that place the better--that they were right in
the centre of sickness and death. They said, "And what is to become of
the place of our forefathers, and the cocoanuts they planted?" "Better
leave them, or in a short time there will be none left to remember their
forefathers, or eat their cocoanuts." Madu was in the country, and we
waited his return. He tried hard to get me to stay over-night, but it
was of no use. He presented me with a pig and feathers, and we concluded
friendship by my giving a return present. An old woman was presented to
me, a great sorceress; but, not liking the sisterhood, I did not see my
way clear to give her a present. Such as she keep the natives in
constant fear, do what they like, and get what they like. It is affirmed
by all that the great Lolo sorcerer, Arua, keeps snakes in bamboos, and
uses them for his nefarious purposes. Late in the afternoon we left,
accompanied by Madu and a number of youths carrying pig, cocoanuts, and
sugar-cane. When leaving, the chief said, "Go, Tamate; we are friends."
On June 14th, I had a long conference with the old Paitana chief, Boutu,
and his followers. They looked very much excited and alarmed when I met
them, but that wore away during our conversation. Boutu, his party, and
other Lolo natives assured me that the attack on Dr. James and Mr.
Thorngren was unknown to all but those in the canoe. The excuse was that
the day before they were trading on Yule Island one young man had
feathers for sale. Dr. James and Waunaea told him to leave; they would
not take his feathers because he objected to the pearl shell produced.
This, they say, was the beginning. He tried very hard to sell his
feathers, and, if possible, get a tomahawk. Failing, he went home,
quietly arranged a party, slept in the bush, and before daylight went off
to the vessel. On nearing the vessel, Dr. James called out--"You must
not come alongside: you are coming to kill me." They said, "We are not
going to kill you, but want to sell yams." The yams were taken on board,
and whilst Dr. James was counting the beads to pay for them he was struck
with a club, and afterwards speared, but not quite disabled, as he drew
his revolver and shot the man who attacked him. Mr. Thorngren was struck
at from aft, fell overboard, and was never again seen. They say, when
the people in the village heard of it, they were very sorry, and that
ever since they have been looked upon with anger, as they have been the
cause of keeping the white man away with his tobacco, beads, and
tomahawks. I asked them, "What now?" "Let us make friends, and never
again have the like." "But your young men could do the same again
without your knowing." "They know better than try it again; they are too
much afraid; and they see that what was then done has greatly injured us
as well as all the other villages." I explained to them the object of
our coming here, and that they must not think we are to buy everything
they bring, and must not be angry when we refuse to give what they
demand. We do not come to steal their food or curios, and, if we do not
want them, they can carry all back; we are not traders. After praying
with them, they said, "Tamate, now let it be friendship; give up your
intention of going to Mekeo (inland district), and come to-morrow, and we
shall make friends and peace." "I shall go; but suppose the mother of
the young man who was shot begins wailing, what then?" "She will
doubtless wail, but you need not fear; come, and you will see." "Then to-
morrow I shall go."
Next morning, the _Mayri_ having arrived the evening before, I carried
into effect the intended visit. The chief of Paitana and two followers,
with my friend Lauma, of Lolo, waited to accompany me. After breakfast
we got into the boat, Lavao in charge. We entered the same creek as for
Motu Lavao, and when up it some distance turned up another to the right,
too narrow to use oars. When two miles up we anchored boat, then walked
or waded for two miles through swamp and long grass. When near the
village we heard loud wailing, and Lavao, who was leading, thought it
better we should wait for the old chief, who was some distance behind. On
coming up they spoke in Lolo, then threw down his club, calling on one of
his followers to pick it up. He went in front, and called on me to
follow close to him, the others coming after; and so we marched into the
village and up on to his platform. Then began speechifying, presenting
cooked food, betel-nuts, pig, and feathers. When all was finished I gave
my present, and said a few words in the Motu dialect. The uncle of the
man shot by Dr. James came on to the platform, caught me by the arm and
shouted, _Maino_! (peace), saying that they, the chiefs, knew nothing of
the attack. The murderers lived at the other end of the village; and
thither, accompanied by a large party, I went. They gave me a pig, and I
gave them a return present. The real murderer of Mr. Thorngren sat near
me, dressed for the occasion, and four others who were in the canoe stood
near the platform. The mother and two widows were in the house opposite,
but with good sense refrained from wailing. I spoke to them of the
meanness and treachery of attacking as they attacked Dr. James and Mr.
Thorngren. They say there were ten in the canoe--one was shot, three
have since died, and six remain. They also say they feel they have done
wrong, as they not only made the foreigners their enemies, but also all
the tribes around were angry with them. "What now, then?" "Oh, _maino_
(peace) it must be; we are friends, and so are all foreigners now." "I
am not a trader, but have come to teach about the only one true God and
His love to us all in the gift of His Son Jesus Christ, to proclaim peace
between man and man, and tribe and tribe." What seemed to astonish them
most was my being alone and unarmed. After some time, our old friend
came from the other end of the village and hurried us away. It was time
to leave them, so, giving a few parting presents, we picked up our goods
and away to the boat.
CHAPTER V. EAST CAPE IN 1878 AND IN 1882
Original state of the natives--War and cannibalism--How the mission work
has been carried on--A Sunday at East Cape in 1882--Twenty-one converts
baptized--A blight prospect.
In 1878, missionary work was begun at East Capes, and four years after
the establishment of that mission, on a review of the past, what
evidences of progress were to be seen! There were signs of light
breaking in upon the long dark night of heathenism. Looking at the
condition of this people when the missionaries and teachers first landed,
what did they find? A people sunk in crime that to them has become a
custom and religion--a people in whom murder is the finest art, and who
from their earliest years study it. Disease, sickness, and death have
all to be accounted for. They know nothing of malaria, filth, or
contagion. Hence they hold that an enemy causes these things, and
friends have to see that due punishment is made. The large night firefly
helps to point in the direction of that enemy, or the spirits of departed
ones are called in through spiritists' influence to come and assist, and
the medium pronouncing a neighbouring tribe guilty, the time is near when
that tribe will be visited and cruel deeds done. They know nothing of a
God of Love--only gods and spirits who are ever revengeful, and must be
appeased; who fly about in the night and disturb the peace of homes. It
is gross darkness and cruelty, brother's hand raised against brother's.
Great is the chief who claims many skulls; and the youth, who may wear a
jawbone as an armlet is to be admired.
When we first landed here, the natives lived only to fight, and the
victory was celebrated by a cannibal feast. It is painfully significant
to find that the only field in which New Guinea natives have shown much
skill and ingenuity is in the manufacture of weapons. One of these is
known as a Man-catcher, and was invented by the natives of Hood Bay, but
all over the vast island this loop of rattan cane is the constant
companion of head-hunters. The peculiarity of the weapon is the deadly
spike inserted in the handle.
The _modus operandi_ is as follows:--The loop is thrown over the unhappy
wretch who is in retreat, and a vigorous pull from the brawny arm of the
vengeful captor jerks the victim upon the spike, which (if the weapon be
deftly handled) penetrates the body at the base of the brain, or, if
lower down, in the spine, in either case inflicting a death-wound.
All these things are changed, or in process of change. For several years
there have been no cannibal ovens, no desire for skulls. Tribes that
could not formerly meet but to fight, now meet as friends, and sit side
by side in the same house worshipping the true God. Men and women who,
on the arrival of the mission, sought the missionaries' lives, are only
anxious now to do what they can to assist them, even to the washing of
their feet. How the change came about is simply by the use of the same
means as those acted upon in many islands of the Pacific. The first
missionaries landed not only to preach the Gospel of Divine love, but
also to live it, and to show to the savage a more excellent way than
theirs. Learning the language, mixing freely with them, showing
kindnesses, receiving the same, travelling with them, differing from
them, making friends, assisting them in their trading, and in every way
making them feel that their good only was sought. They thought at first
that we were compelled to leave our own land because of hunger!
Teachers were placed amongst the people; many sickened and died. There
was a time of great trial, but how changed is everything now! Four years
pass on, and, in 1882, we visit them. We left Port Moresby, and arrived
at East Cape on a Sunday. Morning service was finished, and, from the
vessel, we saw a number of natives well dressed, standing near the
mission house, waiting to receive us. The teachers came off, and with
them several lads, neatly dressed. After hearing from them of the work,
and of how the people were observing the Sabbath, we landed, and were met
by a quiet, orderly company of men, women, and boys, who welcomed us as
real friends. The first to shake hands with us was a chief from the
opposite side of the bay, who in early days gave us much trouble, and had
to be well watched. Now he was dressed, and his appearance much altered.
It was now possible to meet him and feel he was a friend. We found Pi
Vaine very ill, and not likely to live long; yet she lived long enough to
rejoice in the glorious success of the Gospel of Christ, and to see many
of those for whom she laboured profess Christianity. We were astonished,
when we met in the afternoon, at the orderly service--the nice well-tuned
singing of hymns, translated by the teacher, and the attention, when he
read a chapter in Mark's Gospel--translated by him from the Rarotongan
into the dialect of the place. When he preached to them, all listened
attentively, and seemed to be anxious not to forget a single word. Two
natives prayed with great earnestness and solemnity. After service all
remained, and were catechised on the sermon, and then several present
stood up and exhorted their friends to receive the Gospel. Many
strangers were present, and they were exhorted to come as often as
possible and hear the good news. Then, again, others offered prayers. We
found that numbers came in on the Saturday with food and cooking-pots,
and remained until Monday morning. They lived with the teachers, and
attended all the services, beginning with a prayer-meeting on Saturday
night.
During our stay of a few days, they all remained at the station, and we
saw much of them. The teachers said there were twenty-one who professed
faith in Christ and had given up heathenism and desired baptism. We
visited further on to the east, and we were a week away on our return to
East Cape, and after close examination of each candidate we decided to
baptize them on the following Tuesday. The service was most interesting,
and well attended by persons from various places. At night we examined
the children and grown-up people who attend school, and were much pleased
with them. A few can read in the Motu dialect; others know how to put
letters together and form words. We hope soon to have one or two books
in their own dialect. Of those baptized several are anxious to be
instructed, that they may be better fitted to do work for Christ amongst
their own countrymen. Already they hold services, and exhort in other
villages, and when travelling they do all the good they can to others.
We are in hopes soon to receive a number of young men and women at Port
Moresby, and begin our Institution, to be called "The New Guinea
Institution for Training Evangelists." At present we shall proceed
quickly, building native houses for students, and a class room to be
bought in the colonies, towards which our true friends in North Adelaide
contribute largely.
The harvest ripens fast: where shall we look for labourers? The Master
has said, "Pray." May they soon be sent! The light is shining, the
darkness is breaking, and the thick clouds are moving, and the hidden
ones are being gathered in. We have already plucked the first flowers;
stern winter yields, and soon we shall have the full spring, the singing
of birds, and the trees in full blossom. Hasten it, O Lord, we plead!
LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, STAMFORD STREET AND
CHARING CROSS.