Afar off appears above the blue line of the horizon a silvery dome
clearly defined against the sky. It might be taken for a cloud, but
that it never moves its position. It is the summit of the lofty
mountain of Mona Roa in Owhyee, the largest of the Sandwich islands, now
fully fifty miles away. There are ten of these islands, though eight
only are inhabited, the other two being barren rocks on which fishermen
dry their nets. As we draw near, other mountain tops are seen, those of
Mona Kea and Mona Huararia. Mona Roa is a volcano, and the whole
country round is volcanic. It is said to rise above twelve thousand
feet above the level of the sea. It is night before we cast anchor in a
sheltered bay. Next morning we are surrounded by canoes, and many
people come swimming off to the ship, for they are as expert as other
islanders of the Pacific in the water. We are plentifully supplied with
taro, yams, cocoa-nuts, bananas, and water melons, also with hogs, which
are of a large size. Friend Golding, however, finds that he cannot
trade with them on the same easy terms as with other savages we have
met, for many ships have visited them, and they now require firearms,
and powder and shot. These people are much in appearance like those we
have before seen--they are tall and athletic, and many of the chief
people, both men and women, are of great bulk.
I cannot but remember that it was at this island the renowned navigator,
Captain Cook, was slain; and the people have long in consequence been
looked upon as very savage and treacherous. This we do not find them to
be, but they are heathens given up to gross superstition, and are
ignorant and immoral. They carry on bloody wars with each other, offer
up human sacrifices, and are, it is reported, cannibals. But if so be
they are all this, and more, surely it behoves us as Christians to teach
them better things. What, however, do we do? We sell them firearms and
ammunition to carry on their wars, we partake in their immorality; so
far from showing them any of the graces of our religion, we make them by
our lives believe that we have no religion at all, while by all those
who visit these shores not a voice is raised to tell them of the truth.
We find them more mild and gentle than the people of Tahiti, and very
different from the fierce savages of the Marquesas. Not far off is
Karakaka Bay, where Captain Cook fell.
We communicate with two other ships while lying here, and the officers
all speak in favourable terms of the people. Captain Fuller, therefore,
allows us to visit the shore more than he would otherwise have
considered safe. We find these people very different from the wild
inhabitants of the coral islands we have visited. They have attained
considerable proficiency in many arts--their cloth is fine, and
beautifully ornamented, as are their mats, but they excel in feather
work. The helmets, and mantles, and capes of their chiefs are very
beautiful. The helmets are in the form of those of ancient Greece, and
are covered with bright red feathers, worked in to look like velvet,
with tall plumes, and as their cloaks are of the same texture and
colour, and the wearers are tall, powerful men, they have, when armed
with dubs or spears, a very imposing and warlike appearance. The king
alone is allowed to wear a dress of yellow feathers. The common people,
however, wear but scant clothing, none being required in this favoured
climate. Their great war-god is Tairi. To propitiate him human
sacrifices are offered up, and his idol is carried at the head of their
armies. Lesser chiefs have also their idols carried before them. One
of their temples, a morai, merits description. It is formed by walls of
great thickness, like that at Tahiti. It is an irregular parallelogram,
two hundred and twenty-four feet long, and a hundred wide. The walls on
three sides are twenty feet high and twelve feet thick, but narrowing
towards the top. The wall nearest the sea is only eight feet high. The
only entrance is by a narrow passage between two high walls leading up
to an inner court, where stands the grim god of war, with numerous other
idols on either side of him. In front rises a lofty obelisk of
wicker-work, and inside this the priest who acts the part of the oracle
takes his stand. Just outside this inner court is the altar on which
the human sacrifices are made. Near it stands the house occupied by the
king when he resides in the temple, and numerous other idols fill the
rest of the space. All have hideous countenances, large gaping mouths,
and staring eyes. Tairi is crowned with a helmet, and covered with red
feathers. Great labour must have been expended in rearing this vast
structure, and in carving all these hideous images, and sad indeed is it
to consider the object for which all these pains have been taken.
The king, with whom we have been on good terms, sends to Captain Fuller
to beg that he will lend him some of his ship's guns and muskets, and a
few of his crew, as he is about to make war on a neighbouring island. I
am on shore with Golding and Taro, and while a message is being
returned, he invites us to witness the usual ceremonies which take place
before war. As we accompany him to the morai, we see dragged on by the
crowd no less than eleven men, whose looks of terror, show that
something they dread is about to happen. Arrived before the temple,
there is a cry from the multitude, who instantly set on them with their
clubs. Taro tells us not to grieve; that some are prisoners taken in
war, others guilty persons who have broken a taboo, and others the
lowest of the people. While we stand shuddering, a concourse of people
arrive bearing fruits of all sorts, and hogs, and dogs. The human
victims are stripped of all their garments, and placed in rows on the
altars; the priests now offer up some prayers to the hideous idol, and
then the hogs and dogs are piled up over the human bodies, and the
whole, we are told, are left to rot together. Sometimes, on occasions
of great importance, twenty-two persons have been offered up.
The oracle is favourable, we hear, and the king sends round to all his
subjects to collect at his camp with their arms--spears, clubs,
javelins, and slings--ready for battle. No one dares refuse. Vast
numbers assemble, but a few only of his immediate attendants have
firearms. Nothing can be more fittingly hideous than their idol god of
war, with his grinning mouth armed with triple rows of sharks' teeth. A
hundred war-canoes are prepared. The army embarks, and, like a flight
of locusts, they descend on the opposite coast. We see flames ascending
from spots where lately stood smiling villages. A few days pass, and
the army returns victorious with numerous captives. Some are forthwith
offered up to the war-god, others are kept to be sacrificed on a future
occasion. A great chief dies of his wounds, and several victims are
offered at his tomb, while, as a sign of grief, his relations and
followers knock out their front teeth, and fix them in a tree in his
morai. His people also appear to have gone mad, committing every
species of abomination, and we hear that many people lose their lives on
the occasion.
The Sandwich Islanders have many more idols than those of which I have
spoken. There is Mooaru, or the shark god, whose temple stands on
almost every point or headland. To him the fishermen offer, on landing,
the first fish they have caught that day--for they imagine that he it is
who drives the fish to their shores. But the greatest of all their
gods, or, at all events, the most feared, is Pele, the goddess of the
volcano. She resides on the summit of Mona Roa, and descends in fire
and flames to punish her enemies below. She has many priestesses, who
appear in the villages with singed garments and marks of fire on their
persons, to demand tribute from the inhabitants to avert her vengeance.
I do not hear of one of their idols who has a mild or beneficent
disposition. All the sacrifices offered are simply to avert their
vengeance. The people have no love nor veneration for their idols, and
they believe that their idols' chief pleasure is in tormenting and
punishing them.
One of the most remarkable objects I have met with in the Sandwich
Islands is what may properly be called a city of refuge. It is a sort
of morai, surrounded by strong walls, with an entrance on each side. In
the interior are temples and numerous houses, in which the priests and
occasional occupants reside. Here, whatever crime a fugitive may have
committed, if he can reach it he is safe. A victorious enemy in pursuit
of foes will come up to the gates, but if the vanquished have entered
they are safe. During an invasion of the territory, therefore, all the
women and children are sent in here, where they may remain in security.
There are several such places of refuge in the islands.
The taboo system is also very curious. The priests govern chiefly in
this matter. They settle what or who is to be tabooed, and how long it
is to last. To taboo is not only to set aside for a particular object,
but to make sacred. The king, a hog, or a house, may be tabooed.
During that time people may not do certain acts, and animals or things
may not be touched or used. So important are these taboos held, that
any person breaking through one of them is punished severely, often with
death.
Is it not possible that some of the customs I have mentioned, though
barbarous and debased, may have been derived from ancient tradition?
Whence has sprung that strange expectation of the return of their
long-lost god, Rona, to bring a blessing on their nation? What means
that longing for a better land far away in the east, entertained by the
Marquesas islanders? The king of this island seems to have great power.
He is the owner of all the land, and is the lord and master of all his
subjects. He rules wisely, and has the affection of his people.
I might say a great deal more about these Sandwich islanders--their
history, habits, and customs, and of the events which have taken place
since we have been here, but should I write all I might, my journal
would be soon filled. To describe them briefly thus:--Their islands are
grand and picturesque; they are very intelligent, and are physically
powerful, but they seem abandoned to a debased idolatry, to cruel
customs, and to a gross licentiousness. Constant and barbarous warfare,
infanticide, and the diseases introduced by their foreign visitors have
so rapidly decreased their numbers that the population consists of
one-third less now than it did at the time of Cook. Captain Fuller, and
the other masters and mates of the ships here laugh at the idea of their
ever becoming Christians or civilised, and, in truth, unless they have
faith in God's grace, it would seem a hard matter; but I know that He
can order all things according to His will, and that, in spite of all
man's theories and doubts, He will find means to accomplish His work.
Phineas Golding has just come on board in high glee. He says that he
has just heard from Taro, who gets the information I know not how, that
there are to the southward of this several coral islands, where
abundance of mother-of-pearl and also pearls of great size are to be
procured; and thus, instead of sailing west, as we had proposed, he has
arranged with Captain Fuller to sail once more south towards the Hervey
group, and to touch at the Friendly, Fiji, and many other islands, ere
we once more steer north-west towards our destination. To complete our
stores, we take in a good supply of salt, to be obtained here in
abundance; and then bidding farewell to our friends the Sandwich
islanders, we make sail, and steer south.
We find a young lad, the son of a chief, who had managed to secrete
himself on board. We ask him why he has done so. He answers that he
wishes to see the great country from which we come, and promises to do
everything we require if we will let him remain. Captain Fuller
consents; but I fear sometimes that he will have a hard life of it. I
resolve, however, to protect him as far as I can. He gets the name of
Charlie, but no other.
We have sighted several low coral islands, but at length we reach the
neighbourhood of a group known as the Penrhyn Islands, about six hundred
miles due north of the Hervey group, which we also purpose to visit. We
sight a coral island, which we estimate as fifty feet high, nine or ten
miles long and five broad, with a deep lagoon in the centre. It is as
if a huge coral ring had been thrown down in the ocean. At one end
there is an opening, through which a boat can enter the lagoon. The
island is covered with groves of cocoa-nut, pandanus, and other trees;
and, from the number of huts we see, and the people moving about, it
seems to be thickly populated. While the ship is hove-to, I take charge
of a boat to carry the supercargo, and Taro, and Charlie; with six men,
on shore. We pull round, but find that there is so heavy a surf running
that we cannot land on the outside. To save time, Taro and Charlie swim
on shore to communicate with the natives. I anxiously wait off to
receive their report. After some time we see them running, pursued by
many natives. They leap into the water, and dash through the surf.
Some of the natives attempt to follow, but our shipmates distance them,
and are taken safe on board.
They say the natives, though looking very wild and fierce, were kind in
their manners, and invited them up to their houses, and brought them
food; but that they soon pressed round them, and began to strip off
their clothes, and to take possession of everything they had. Seeing
them preparing some hot stones with which to heat an oven, they believed
that they were to be cooked and eaten, and so starting up, they rushed
headlong for the shore, so completely taking their entertainers by
surprise, that no one at first attempted to stop them. They report,
however, that they saw pearl-shell ornaments, and even pearls, worn by
the savages; which so excites Golding's imagination, that he insists on
our attempting further communication with the people. Finding at length
the opening into the lagoon, we approach the mouth, the surf breaking
over the rocks on either side with great violence. There is a narrow
lane of clear water; we pull in; a strong current carries the boat along
with fearful speed, and several seas break into her. It seems as if we
were in a whirlpool. The rudder has lost its power, and we are spun
round and round helplessly; about every moment it seems to be hove on
the rocks. She violently rises and falls, and then we are cast, as it
were, into the smooth water of the lagoon, though still carried upward
for some distance. It strikes me at the moment that we are like mice
caught in a trap, and that it must depend on the pacific disposition of
the natives whether or not we escape.
At length we steer for the shore, where we see several Indians
collected. They retire as we draw near. We again send Taro and Charlie
on shore with looking-glasses and trinkets; they go not very willingly.
The savages stop, and cast at us glances of suspicion. Then they make a
rush forward, seize all the articles they can lay hands on, and again
run off. Our two interpreters now come down shaking their heads, and
saying that there is no hope of trading with these savages. Still
Phineas will not give up the attempt; he has seen the pearls, and is
longing for them.
"Why, such a necklace as that would be worth a hundred pounds, or more,"
he exclaims. "We must have the fellow dead or alive."
He stands up in the boat with his piece, ready to fire. I sternly draw
him back, crying out, indignantly:
"I will not allow murder to be committed; for murder it would be, if the
men were ten times more savage than they are. They have souls immortal
as ours, which we have no right to drive out of their bodies before
their time."
"Souls or not, mate, you have made me lose my pearl necklace," says the
supercargo, angrily.
"It were better to lose a dozen pearl necklaces, or all the pearls the
bottom of the sea can produce, than commit a great crime," I answer,
more hotly than usual; and then, knowing that another sort of argument
would have more weight with such a man, I added, "Remember, too, we are
yet inside the trap. If we kill one of these people, their countrymen
may assemble at the entrance, and slaughter every one of us."
This silenced Golding. We pull some way up the lagoon. The water
swarms with fish, and the shore seems more fertile than any of the coral
islands we have visited. In all directions we see signs of inhabitants,
and in some places small canoes hauled up, but none approach us. We now
pull back towards the passage by which we entered; but the tide still
runs in like a mill-stream. Suddenly we run aground. The men jump out
and lift the boat off. We are in a wrong channel. We at length get
into what we believe to be the right passage. The men track the boat
along, but we make little way. Night comes on rapidly. There will be a
moon, but it has not yet risen, and without its light we cannot escape.
We secure the boat to the rock, and wait anxiously for that time. Few
of us can sleep, for we know not any moment whether the savages may be
upon us. Both Taro and Charlie declare, from what they saw on shore,
that the people are cannibals. There was also the remains of a wreck
burnt on the beach, and they declare their belief that some ship has
been cast away there, and the unfortunate crew destroyed. We wait
anxiously. Golding says very little; he is evidently ill at ease. I
write it, not to boast, but my own mind is far more at ease; for I can
say, "In God put I my trust: I will not fear what man can do unto me."
Thus, through God's grace, I have always been allowed to feel when in
positions of great peril. My shipmates I have heard speak of me as the
bravest man among them. So I verily believe I am; but then I am brave
not in my own strength, but in the strength of Him who is strong to
save. There would be many more brave men in the world, if all knew on
whom they may leap confidently for support. There is a kind of bravery
that is natural to some, and is a constitutional fearlessness; but a far
higher and surer courage belongs to those who have committed their souls
to their God and Saviour, and who feel that whatever may befall them,
when in the way of duty, must be for the best.
These thoughts pass through my mind as I keep watch while the men are
sleeping around me. Still the night continues dark; but as I peep
through the obscurity, I fancy that I see against the sky some objects
flitting here and there over the rocks. I step cautiously back into the
boat, rouse up the men, who seize their arms, and with the oars ready to
shove off, if necessary, we wait prepared. The figures approach
silently in great numbers, but cautiously stealing along, as if not
aware that we are awake. We make no sound. On they come over the
rocks, with more ease than we could advance in daylight. In less than a
minute they will be upon us. I wish to save bloodshed. There is a
faint light in the sky: it is the looked-for moon about to rise.
Suddenly the silence is broken by loud unearthly yells, and hundreds of
naked forms spring up as it were from the ground upon us.