The canoe, it was evident, had met with some severe weather, and she
could scarcely, we considered, have held together had she encountered
another gale. We lost no time in getting the survivors into the boats.
The suspicions of the warriors were soon calmed by the explanations of
the young man, and they allowed us without resistance to lift them on
board. The chief's daughter, or young princess, she might have been
called, was less exhausted than many of the strong men. I lifted her up
with care, and placed her on her mats in the stern sheets, and pulled
back as fast as we could to the ship, that the sufferers might have the
advantage of our surgeon's assistance. Having removed the sinnets,
mats, and other articles with which she was loaded, we abandoned the
ill-fated canoe, and stood on our course. I asked the doctor what he
thought of the state of the Indians. "The princess and her attendants
require careful nursing, and so does that young man, but for the rest
who are still alive I have no fear," he answered. "The greater number
died for want of water. They had no lack of food, I suspect." I looked
in his face, and shuddered at the answer he gave. Several days passed
by before the young man who had addressed us in English was again able
to speak. He spoke but a few words of English, but enough to let me
understand that his name was John Vihala, that he was related to the
young girl, daughter of the chief or king of one of the islands; that
her name was Alea; that she had become a Christian; but that her father
and most of the family remained heathens. She had been betrothed (as is
the custom, at an early age) to a powerful chief of a distant island,
still a heathen and a cannibal; and, notwithstanding all her prayers and
entreaties, her father insisted on her fulfilling the contract. She, in
due state, accompanied by several of her relations and female
attendants, was placed on board the canoe, which sailed for its
destination. At first the wind was propitious, but a fierce gale arose,
which drove the canoe out of her course for many days before it, till
those on board were unable to tell in what direction to steer to regain
their own island. Another gale sprang up, which drove them still
farther away, and then famine began, and sickness, and then water
failed, and death followed, and despair took possession of even the
bravest. Alea's chief relations died, but she and Vihala were
wonderfully supported. While their heathen companions lost all hope,
they encouraged them, spoke to them of their own religion, and
endeavoured to teach the truths of the gospel.
Much to my satisfaction, Captain Buxton agreed, on hearing their story,
to take them back to their own island. I do not mention the name of the
island for reasons which will appear. It took us some days to beat up
to it. It was a lovely spot, of volcanic formation, with lofty
mountains in the centre, and in most parts clothed with the richest
vegetation. Alea and her female attendants were by this time able to
come on deck. Her astonishment at seeing her native island was very
great, but her satisfaction was less than I expected. I asked Vihala
the reason of this. "She expects to be sent again to her intended
husband," he answered, in a melancholy tone. I suspected that Vihala
loved his young cousin, nor was it surprising that he should do so.
They were of the same faith, and pity for the sad condition to which she
would be reduced if the wife of a heathen chief, would have made him
wish to free her. We anchored the ship in a secure harbour, and at once
sent Vihala and several natives on shore as a deputation to the chief,
to inform him of the arrival of his daughter.
After some time, they returned with the announcement that the chief
would receive us, and that his daughter would be welcome. We found him
seated under a wide-spreading tree, on a bundle of mats, in great state,
with numerous lesser chiefs and attendants standing on either side of
him. His only clothing was a piece of native cloth wound round his
body, and he looked every inch the savage. We expected Vihala to act as
interpreter, but when we approached the chief, a person whom we supposed
to be a native, though he had a rougher and more savage appearance than
the rest, and had on as little clothing as they, advanced a few steps,
and informed us in undoubted English, or rather Irish, that he had the
honour of being the king's prime minister, and that it was his duty to
perform that office. His name was Dan Hoolan (a runaway seaman, we
found), and he had been fifteen years on the island, and was married and
settled with a family.
After we had made our statement, poor Alea was allowed to approach her
father, which she did in a humble posture, with fear and trembling. He
manifested very little concern at seeing her, and directed her to be
conducted to her mother's cottage. I was anxious to know how Alea and
Vihala had become Christians, and asked Dan if he had taught them. "No,
indeed, I have not," he answered drawing himself up. "I hope that I am
too good a Catholic to teach them the sort of religion they know. There
is a sort of old missionary fellow comes over here who has taught them,
and he has left a native teacher here, who does nothing but abuse me
because I do not make the king here _lotu_, and do not _lotu_ myself, as
they call it, and give up my wives, and make myself miserable." From
this speech of Dan Hoolan's, I had no difficulty in understanding the
state of the case. The wretched man would not give up his own sins,
and, therefore, tried to keep the chief in heathen darkness. It would,
however, be impolitic to quarrel with him, or, rather, wrong, because
the so doing would have increased the difficulty of bringing him round.
I should explain that the term _lotu_ means becoming a nominal
Christian.
"But I thought, friend Hoolan, you said that you were a Christian," I
remarked quietly, looking fixedly at him.
"So I am inwardly, of course, mate," he answered, with a wink he could
not suppress. "That is to say, a right raal Catholic, as my fathers
were before me, with nothing of your missionary religion about me; but
just on the outside, maybe, I'm a heathen, just for convenience sake,
you'll understand."
I did not press the subject then, but being interested about poor Alea,
I inquired if he could tell me how her father would treat her.
"Why, send her on to her husband, of course, mate," he answered, with
the greatest unconcern; "it's the right thing to do."
"But the chief to whom she is to be given is a heathen and a cannibal,
and old enough to be her grandfather," I remarked.
"Maybe, but it's the rule; we don't set much value or women in this part
of the world," observed the prime minister; "I might have married her
myself for that matter, but it would have brought on a war with the old
chief for whom she is intended, so I did the right thing, do ye see,
mate, and let it alone."
I now turned the subject, and asked what assistance he could give in
refitting the ship and supplying fresh provisions. He was immediately
in his element, and showed himself in worldly matters a shrewd, clever
fellow. Everything now seemed to go on smoothly, and the repairs of the
ship progressed rapidly, while we had no lack of fresh provisions. We
soon discovered that another double canoe was fitting out to carry Alea
to her intended husband. My heart bled for the poor girl, and I would
have done anything to save her, I thought over all sorts of plans. They
were, however, needless, for the next morning I heard that she had
disappeared. No one knew where she had gone. At first I feared that
her father had sent her off secretly; but Hoolan's rage and undisguised
fears of the consequences which might occur when the old chief
discovered that he had lost his bride, convinced me that such was not
the case. I suspected that Vihala might have had something to do with
it when I found that he had disappeared about the same time. We were at
first suspected, but I convinced Hoolan that we had had nothing to do
with the matter.
Several days passed, and not a clue was gained as to what had become of
the young princess. One evening, when the men had knocked off work, as
I was sitting under an awning on deck, I saw a large canoe entering the
harbour. It struck me that it might contain the old chief come to claim
his bride; so, as it was not my watch, I jumped into a boat and went on
shore to see what would happen. As the canoe drew near, however, I saw
that instead of her deck being crowded with tattooed, naked, and painted
warriors, dancing, and shouting, and sounding conch-shells, all the
people on board were well clothed, while in the after part stood a
venerable-looking man with long white hair escaping from under his
broad-brimmed hat, and by his side a young lady, both evidently
Europeans. I at once naturally walked towards the part of the beach
where they would land, and waited for them. No sooner did the canoe
touch the shore than several natives from the crowd rushed forward, and
lifting the strangers on their shoulders, bore them, with every
demonstration of respect, to dry ground. I at once went forward and
addressed them in English, and was warmly greeted in return. The old
man said he came from a station about fifty miles off. The young lady
was his daughter. They had come over on a periodical visit to the
Christian converts of this island, and were much concerned to hear that
Vihala and the young princess had disappeared.
"They should have abided the storm," the old man remarked. "I will go
see this heathen chief, and try again if by God's grace his heart may be
softened."
I undertook to get Pat Hoolan out of the way, as it was evident that all
his influence was exerted to prevent his master from becoming a
Christian. I had fortunately arranged to transact some business with
him about this time; so, leaving the missionary addressing the people
under a cocoa-nut tree, I hurried up to the king's village, and without
much difficulty persuaded Hoolan to accompany me on board. I kept him
there as long as I possibly could. Meanwhile the missionary sought out
the chief, and found him willing to listen while he unfolded the story
of the gospel. A long time the two conversed; and for the first time
the benighted savage heard the message of salvation. Gradually the
truth interested him, and he began to turn a more favourable ear to the
missionary's exhortations than he had ever before done.
"Ah, would that I had Vihala with me," he would frequently exclaim to
the missionary. "When you are gone he would instruct me further in the
wonderful things I hear." But neither Vihala nor Alea were to be found.
He had driven them forth, there could be no doubt, by resolving to
unite his daughter to a heathen chief; and yet was Vihala free from
blame in carrying off the young princess? The heathens said that they
had committed suicide, and were drowned, but judging from Vihala's
generally consistent character, I felt sure that that was not the case.
From the first I had felt myself drawn very much towards the venerable
missionary. His gentleness, yet firmness of manner, his utter negation
of self and devotedness to his Master's cause were very remarkable. His
tender love for his daughter, too, was very beautiful. She returned it
with the deepest affection and devotion. Accustomed as I had been to
the endearments of a happy, well-ordered home, I was sensibly touched by
it, and took every opportunity of being in their company. It may appear
curious that three days had passed before I learned the name of the good
old man. Everybody called him the missionary, spoke of him as the
missionary,--thrice-honoured name! In the same way he knew me only as
the mate. He had a house assigned to him by the chief, which, by being
partitioned off into three chambers, was made tolerably habitable. I
was one evening drinking tea there with him and his daughter, when I
happened to mention my name.
"What! are you any relative to that devoted missionary, John Harvey?" he
asked. When I told him that I was his brother, "Ah, that accounts for
your having so friendly a feeling for missionaries," he observed.
"I learned to respect missionaries, and to see the importance of their
work, long before my brother became one," I answered; and I then told
him of my uncle's journal, which I promised to bring on shore to show
him. He was evidently much interested, and made many inquiries about
it.
"Does he mention the name of Joseph Bent?" he asked suddenly.