DIMINUTIVE DWELLERS IN THE LAND OF FIRE
“More than one hundred years ago God sent a baby boy to Mr and Mrs
Gardiner. They called him Allen Francis. He had four elder brothers,
and as the lads romped and played games and learned lessons together,
they would have been ever so much surprised if they could have taken
a peep into the future, and seen what wonderful adventures in strange
lands, among strange people, and what terrible dangers and difficulties
were in store for little Allen.
“He always said he ‘meant to be a sailor, and travel all over the
world,’ and one night when Mrs Gardiner went to tuck him up and give
him a good-night kiss, she found his bed empty, and her little boy
fast asleep on the hard floor--‘getting hardened and used to roughing
it,’ he told her. When thirteen years old he went to the Naval College
at Portsmouth for two years, and then his life as a sailor began.
“Who will come in thought with me and pay a visit to the Land of Fire?
Before we start, let us remember that first we take a long leap into
the past--we jump backwards over fifty years--for we want to join our
dear old friend and sailor Captain Allen Gardiner.
“We shall certainly all need our strongest boots and thickest wraps and
waterproofs, as we join our sailor hero. Sleet and hail are beating
around the boat on all sides, and every few minutes a wave dashes
across the bows. When we land on one of the Islands, and trudge along
by the Captain’s side, on one of his exploring expeditions, we find the
mud more than knee-deep in many places.
“We shall find the natives a very miserable lot of people. They have no
form of worship, no idols; they know nothing whatever of God. There
is not even a word in their language to express the name of God. They
are Indians, and divided into many different tribes, all at enmity with
each other; always quarrelling and at war. Food is often the cause of
the trouble, for it is very hard to get.
“There are Canoe Indians and Foot Indians. The Canoe Indians live
almost entirely upon fish and fungus, and the Foot Indians on birds and
animals killed by bows and arrows and spears made of whalebone. Nowhere
do we see the smallest sign of the land being tilled or cultivated;
indeed, corn would not ripen in the Land of Fire, for the climate is
very damp and windy. Even in summer the sun rarely shines, only wind
and rain then take the place of the winter storms of sleet and snow.
“There is plenty of good water on the Islands, so, as our supply on
board the _Clymene_ is running short, we will draw into one of the
harbours and refill the water-casks before we pursue our journey
to Banner Cove, where the Captain thinks of putting up the wooden
storehouse he has brought from England, and landing our goods.
“Before the _Clymene_ sails away, while our companions are busy fixing
up a tent, we spy several canoes of Indians coming towards us. In a
moment our friend has his telescope pointed in their direction, eager
to find out all about them. We soon see they are afraid; it is the
glass that frightens them. They think it some dangerous weapon! So it
is quickly laid aside and we make signs of friendship.
“Many of the men come on board after a time, and gladly take the
buttons we offer in exchange for fish and shell necklaces. They are
queer-looking, dark brown people, with large heads, small, sharp, black
eyes, and long, jet-black hair hanging straight down over each shoulder.
“A little girl, about three years old, ventures near the Captain, and
very great is the delight of all when she returns to her mother with
a bright-coloured cotton handkerchief round her shoulders. They are
much interested in us, and the keen, black eyes watch intently every
movement, while the water-casks are brought from the shore, and taken
from the small boat to the larger vessel.
“I wonder how many of us keep a diary! There is one diary I know all of
us, yes every boy and girl and grown-up reader of this book, would very
much like to see. How tenderly we should turn over those storm-stained
pages! How lovingly we should gaze at the clear pencil hand-writing of
this wonderful diary!
“Perhaps if we really did see and read it, some of us would be inspired
with feelings akin to those of a little girl of nine years old who went
home from a missionary meeting and wrote:--‘Mark xvi. 15 says: “Go ye
into all the world, and preach the Gospel to every creature.” This is
a commandment of my Saviour, to be obeyed by me as soon as I am old
enough.’
“More than fifty years ago, Captain Smyley, in command of the _John
Davidson_, sailed into Banner Cove. He was searching for a party of
seven missionaries to whom he had been sent with food and stores. He
found no Englishmen or native of the Land of Fire upon the seashore,
but painted on a rock he saw a notice: ‘Dig below.’ The crew landed,
and obeying the first two words, they dug up a bottle containing a
paper, on which was written: ‘We are gone to Spaniard’s Harbour.... We
have sickness on board: our supplies are nearly out, and if not soon
relieved we shall be starved out.’”
With many misgivings they hastened to Spaniard’s Harbour. It was
then October, so seven months had passed since the notice had been
painted on the rocks. The first vessel sent to the help of the brave
missionaries had been wrecked. How had they fared during those months
of waiting? Had the help come too late?
Yes, already that faithful band--our hero Captain Allen Gardiner, and
his six comrades--have all passed into the Happy Land where “they shall
hunger no more, neither thirst any more.” Sorrowful indeed was the
sight that awaited the searchers. A boat on the beach with a lifeless
body within; another lying not far off, washed to pieces by the waves;
another buried in a shallow grave upon the shore: all seven starved to
death.
What was the effect of this martyrdom? Was it thought worth while for
others to risk their lives for the Fuegian Indians? The Rev. G. P.
Despard and his wife, when they heard of the facts, said: “With God’s
help, this good work shall go on.” And in a beautiful new schooner
called the _Allen Gardiner_, another mission party started for that
distant land.
[Illustration: DUSKY DARLINGS]
“It was decided to make Keppel Island, which is one of the Falkland
group, their headquarters. With much labour a house was built, and a
little mission-station and farm formed there. The intention was to try
and get two or three of the Fuegian natives to come and live with
them at Keppel, hoping to be able to learn the language from these
natives, whilst they taught them all the good and useful things they
could.
“Many years before, a native, who was known by the name of Jimmy
Button, had been brought to England by Captain Fitzroy. When Jimmy
went back to his own country he was quite lost sight of by his English
friends. However, he was met with one day in his canoe by the party
from Keppel, and they found that he still remembered much of the
English he had learned. After being kindly treated by the missionaries,
and enjoying some of their coffee and bread and butter, he said he was
quite willing to go with his wife and three children to stay with them
for six months.
“Jimmy Button and his family soon became quite at home upon the mission
farm. One of Jimmy’s boys, a bright, sharp, little lad of about eight
years, whom his father called ‘Threeboys,’ very quickly picked up
many English words; but they were all so shy about speaking their own
language before foreigners that they talked to each other in whispers,
which of course made it very difficult for the missionaries to learn
anything about the Fuegian language. When the six months were up Mr
Despard took all the Button family back to Woollya on the _Allen
Gardiner_.”
Little by little grew the work amongst the Fuegian Indians, and
especially amongst the children, many of whom are orphans, now under
the missionaries’ care.
There was one dear little Fuegian girl whom the missionaries named
Jessica--bright, loveable, quick, and good both at lessons and work.
She, with others, was taught many things, chief of which was the Bible.
One day Jessica was nowhere to be seen. Morning passed away, afternoon
came, and then followed the evening, but still Jessica had not come
back. Weeks went by, and feeling sure she had been stolen, they ceased
to look out for her.
In the middle of lessons one morning, a pair of arms was flung suddenly
round the missionary’s neck, and someone was showering her with kisses.
It was Jessica.
“Where have you been? Why did you run away from school?” asked the lady
looking displeased at Jessica.
Her eyes brimmed over with tears as she answered: “I went to fetch you
a present.”
“A present!” echoed the teacher.
“Come,” said Jessica, taking her hand, and leading her to a wood close
by. “There is the present I have brought you,” said Jessica; and
looking she saw eleven little naked, half-starved children, all bunched
together, and looking terrified at the white person.
Having heard the Good News for herself, she loved the Lord Jesus so
much that she just longed for other children to hear of Him too. She
had journeyed for miles over rough woods with her bare feet, over
dangerous paths, and through streams of water, in order to bring others
to the Saviour. What a dear little brown missionary she was! For she is
now in the presence of the Lord.
Another little Indian orphan, named Elsie, was being cared for by
the Rev. J. and Mrs Williams. Her father had died about seven years
previously, and her mother also passed away soon afterwards. Mrs
Williams took special charge of this bright little girl, but one day
several of Elsie’s Indian friends went off on a hunting tour, and took
her with them.
Some time afterwards they returned, but without Elsie. What had become
of her? Was she lost or dead? Alas, no. Perhaps it would have been far
better if she were. “What have you done with Elsie?” And the reply was
that the Indians had sold her to a Spaniard!
What was the price he paid for Elsie? Why, just a bag of flour, and a
bottle of gin! Months have passed, and still no Elsie. It is feared
that she cannot return if she would. Away from her tribe and from all
who love her; sold to a Spaniard who cares not for her; this poor
little jewel is living, redeemed with the precious blood of Christ, the
slave of a white man, but the child of the living God.
Pray for such, and determine, like the little girl who went to the
missionary meeting, that your Saviour’s command to “go into all the
world” shall be obeyed by you as soon as you are old enough.