To part is the lot of all mankind. The world is a scene of constant
leave-taking, and the hands that grasp in cordial greeting to-day are
doomed ere long to unite for the last time when the quivering lips
pronounce the word "Farewell." It is a sad thought, but should we on
that account exclude it from our minds? May not a lesson worth learning
be gathered in the contemplation of it? May it not, perchance, teach us
to devote our thoughts more frequently and attentively to that land
where we meet but part no more?
How many do we part from in this world with a light good-bye whom we
never see again! Often do I think, in my meditations on this subject,
that if we realised more fully the shortness of the fleeting intercourse
that we have in this world with many of our fellow-men, we would try
more earnestly to do them good, to give them a friendly smile, as it
were, in passing (for the longest intercourse on earth is little more
than a passing word and glance), and show that we have sympathy with
them in the short, quick struggle of life by our kindly words and looks
and actions.
The time soon drew near when we were to quit the islands of the South
Seas; and strange though it may appear, we felt deep regret at parting
with the natives of the island of Mango, for after they embraced the
Christian faith, they sought, by showing us the utmost kindness, to
compensate for the harsh treatment we had experienced at their hands.
And we felt a growing affection for the native teachers and the
missionary, and especially for Avatea and her husband.
Before leaving we had many long and interesting conversations with the
missionary, in one of which he told us that he had been making for the
island of Rarotonga when his native-built sloop was blown out of its
course, during a violent gale, and driven to this island. At first the
natives refused to listen to what he had to say; but after a week's
residence among them, Tararo came to him and said that he wished to
become a Christian and would burn his idols. He proved himself to be
sincere, for, as we have seen, he persuaded all his people to do
likewise. I use the word "persuaded" advisedly, for, like all the other
Feejee chiefs, Tararo was a despot, and might have commanded obedience
to his wishes; but he entered so readily into the spirit of the new
faith that he perceived at once the impropriety of using constraint in
the propagation of it. He set the example, therefore; and that example
was followed by almost every man of the tribe.
During the short time that we remained at the island repairing our
vessel and getting her ready for sea, the natives had commenced building
a large and commodious church under the superintendence of the
missionary, and several rows of new cottages were marked out; so that
the place bid fair to become, in a few months, as prosperous and
beautiful as the Christian village at the other end of the island.
After Avatea was married, she and her husband were sent away loaded with
presents, chiefly of an edible nature. One of the native teachers went
with them, for the purpose of visiting still more distant islands of the
sea, and spreading, if possible, the light of the glorious Gospel there.
As the missionary intended to remain for several weeks longer in order
to encourage and confirm his new converts, Jack and Peterkin and I held
a consultation in the cabin of our schooner--which we found just as we
had left her, for everything that had been taken out of her was
restored. We now resolved to delay our departure no longer. The desire
to see our beloved native land was strong upon us, and we could not
wait.
Three natives volunteered to go with us to Tahiti, where we thought it
likely that we should be able to procure a sufficient crew of sailors to
man our vessel; so we accepted their offer gladly.
It was a bright, clear morning when we hoisted the snow-white sails of
the pirate schooner and left the shores of Mango. The missionary and
thousands of the natives came down to bid us God-speed and to see us
sail away. As the vessel bent before a light, fair wind, we glided
quickly over the lagoon under a cloud of canvas.
Just as we passed through the channel in the reef the natives gave us a
loud cheer; and as the missionary waved his hat, while he stood on a
coral rock with his grey hairs floating in the wind, we heard the single
word "Farewell" borne faintly over the sea.
That night, as we sat on the taffrail gazing out upon the wide sea and
up into the starry firmament, a thrill of joy, strangely mixed with
sadness, passed through our hearts; for we were at length "homeward
bound" and were gradually leaving far behind us the beautiful,
bright-green coral islands of the Pacific Ocean.