Chapter IX: Letters From Aniwa (2)

“John felt so exhausted, and had just got fast asleep on the study sofa (a most unusual occurrence with him), when I heard high words between Taia, one of our Church members, and Nalihi, an Erromangan. I knew not what to do, for Natives never waste time on high words—they at once rush to arms; and I was unwilling to wake John to more excitement, as it was exactly that day two years since he had been seized with that awful fever, and I had been in fear of its return, as people predicted it would, about the same time of the year. Well, I actually made up my mind to show my wifely devotion,—and it was a good test for me, I beg leave to say, I always had such a foolish terror of a loaded musket anywhere, and infinitely more so in the hands of an enraged Savage,—by going between the combatants myself. To make matters worse, all the men about had gone that morning to bring lime-coral, and only a few women had collected, and one or two timid fellows who stood at a safe distance.

“Nalihi was flourishing his musket in Taia’s face, as an accompaniment to an eloquent harangue he was delivering in Erromangan, not being able to speak Aniwan; and Taia, who understood and could speak it perfectly, seemed to be paying him back with interest. They subsided for a few moments, when it was whispered the Missi was there; but on finding that it was only the ‘Missi finé,’ they went at it with renewed vigour. I took no notice of the Erromangan, knowing my only chance was with Taia; so I went over to him, and implored him not to utter another word, whatever provocation he might receive; and though reluctant at first, he behaved nobly and stood what I think few white men would have done in the circumstances. I kept close beside him all the time, and though for three quarters of an hour that villain stood heaping insults upon him, and at last, in his rage, cut down his bananas and fences before his eyes, he never spoke, though his muscles twitched and he clutched at his great club sometimes—one that I knew had done good (?) service in Heathen days under the great brawny arms that wielded it; for Taia is a perfect Hercules, and such a contrast to the little treacherous, sharp-nosed Erromangan, who was dying for an excuse to get a shot at him. When I thought Taia was going to give way, I put my cold white paw (it _did_ feel so cold) on his black arm, and every time I did so he turned and looked down at me with a grim smile, saying, ‘Don’t fear, Missi, I’ll not speak.’

“Now I maintain, that though John sometimes fears Taia’s Christianity is not of the highest type, yet he is undoubtedly a _perfect gentleman_, or he would not have stood there, the greatest living orator on Aniwa, silent at the bidding of any woman! When I saw the good food being destroyed and so little left from the Hurricane, indignation mastered every other feeling, and I felt it was high time for John to interfere with Nalihi; as no one else dared to speak to him, except master F., who had, by the way, found us out just then, and proceeded without hesitation to deal with him in plain terms. His little figure heaved with indignation, and he drew such a long breath before calling out, ‘O you naughty, _naughty_ man! You’re a wicked man! Jehovah, _so_ angry at you!’ Every one was so amused, and a general titter went round, while Nalihi, with whom F. had been a favourite, began vigorously to defend himself to the child in broken English, at the same time wielding his axe to some purpose amongst Taia’s bananas. So, feeling my own strength would not hold out much longer, I sped off and brought John, who quietly went up to Nalihi and relieved him of his musket and axe (Oh, I was glad to see that musket in dear old John’s trusty fingers, for Nalihi held it in a horizontal position, and it always _would_ point at me the whole time I stood there!) clapped him on the shoulder and had him sobbing like a child in a minute and offering payment to Taia for the damage done, which, however, Taia was too seriously offended to receive, and I do not wonder at it.

“The crowd began to disperse, and John was taking Nalihi off for a day’s work under his own eye, in case of his coming in contact with Taia again, when I put a graceful finish to the proceedings by going off into a fainting fit under the cocoa-nut trees! John said I managed bravely, all except that; but I do think that after _seven_ Earthquakes and such a scene, I had a good right to get up some demonstration, and it was the first I ever perpetrated for the public benefit!

“We had three more Earthquakes that day, but slight, making _ten_ in all; and I took care at night to provide for emergencies by putting a supply of blankets on the verandah, as there is not a moment to snatch clothes when they come, and we had felt chilly the night before. I got laughed at for what was termed my needless precaution; but we had hardly got into our first sleep, when another violent Earthquake turned us out, and we were thankful for them. It was not so bad as some, however, and we got a sleep till morning without further disturbance, as the grand performance did not come off till next evening at nine o’clock.

“John was busy in the bath-room, with the girls, damping paper for next day’s printing, I was in the dining-room, jotting in my journal the events of the day, when we all had to rush out with the most frightful Earthquake that had yet taken place. The house danced, the windows rattled awfully, and F. woke up with the first of it screaming in terror, but M. took it more gently, telling him it was _nice_. It might have been nice to feel ourselves rocked on the bosom of mother Earth (we lay down on the ground at a safe distance from the house, which we expected to fall every moment), could we have been sure she would not open up and receive us into a closer embrace!

“The heaving must, I think, have continued nearly five minutes, and we had just got into the house again, still trembling with agitation, when a terrible gust of wind and roar of the sea half prepared us for the shouting of the Natives, who called to us that the sea had actually come close to our gate! We went out and found Natives up to the waist in water, where it had been bush two or three minutes before. We heard something flapping, and Yawaci picked up a large fish about twelve feet from our gate; and as the tidal wave receded, they were left in hundreds, which the Natives spent most of that night and next day in gathering. An enormous turtle was found too among a lot of _débris_,—‘Jehovah’s turtle,’ the Natives called it, owing to the way in which it was found.

“No serious accident occurred from the wave on our Island, as in most of the others, though some Natives fishing at Tiara were nearly carried away, and our boat which lay at anchor there was lifted, anchor and all, and carried a long way inland, but to a sandy place, where it got no damage; yet not a canoe, if I remember rightly, was left whole.

“From that time we had a constant succession of Earthquakes, and were kept in continual dread, though none of them so violent as those I have mentioned. We had to sleep with our doors open, and at last John went to bed in his clothes to be ready to run! I suppose you have heard that the tidal wave swept right through Mr. Inglis’s, doing terrible damage and half drowning them, and the Earthquakes kept knocking down his walls and chimneys as fast as he could rebuild them. Dr. Geddie’s fine Church, too, is all but destroyed. But I think the greatest damage done is to the nerves of the poor Missionaries’ wives (the Missionaries themselves would be indignant if you accused them of having any!) It is such an awful sensation to feel the very Earth trembling and heaving beneath one, and such an _eerie_ feeling comes on at night.

... “I must pass over everything else that happened until we turned up in Civilization, and it is close upon Mail time. I would have liked to tell you about our pretty new Church, with its snow white walls, which was finished just before our beloved friends, Mr. and Mrs. Inglis, paid us their farewell visit, which was like to break our hearts, for they have been a father and mother to us and to the Mission. Our parting too with our Darkies was intensely trying, as we are to be away from them a longer visit than the last; but the society of our dear friends, the Murrays, was an unexpected treat, and made the voyage so pleasant notwithstanding the sea-sickness....

“The Home Mail closes in the morning; and I must close, with fervent love, from your loving sister,

“MAGGIE WHITECROSS PATON.”

(1878.)

TO THE FAMILY CIRCLE.

“MY DEAREST SISTERS AND BROTHERS,—

“_Sons and daughter_, I should almost have added, as the biggest half of our little flock are separated from Aniwa, and will as eagerly look for the ‘family billet’ now as the rest of you....

“Now that I have sat down to write, so much comes crowding upon me that I hardly know where to begin; but I cannot put down a word of news before testifying of the Lord’s goodness to us, which has just been vouchsafed during this last hot season. He has encompassed us round as with a shield and preserved us safe and well, though from the day after the _Dayspring_ left for the Colonies on the 14th November last until the 30th March we have lived in daily—I might almost say _hourly_—terror of our lives. We have seen—especially John has—the rage of the Heathen, and passed through Earthquake and Hurricane; but all seems as nothing compared with coming into constant contact with an unrestrained _madman_, and this we have had to do with poor Mungaw....

“You must not think of us as pining in solitude, however. Indeed, poor Mungaw took care to keep us all in lively exercise, and acted his first scene the day after the _Dayspring_ left for Sydney with our mails. You know that he married Litsi, one of my best girls (and how delighted we were at the time that she was getting such a good young man!), who was with me on my first visit to Australia from Aniwa, and you remember how pleased you all were with her. Well, he spent the night beating that gentle girl (who was near her confinement) and their little boy about two years of age; and when John met him in the Imrai and quietly remonstrated with him, he stalked off in high dudgeon; and in two minutes more, a tremendous crackling and roar of fire made us rush to the window, where we saw his nice house and all that was in it one mass of flame. Not content with setting it on fire, he tore off Litsi’s jacket and flung it in too. We quite expected that our own house would go, as there were only two light fences betwixt some of our outhouses and his, but providentially the wind carried everything the other way.

“He then took Litsi and Nomaki, their little boy, to a distant village; and, oh! how we hoped he would remain, as Litsi had friends there, but back he dragged them, terror-stricken and breathless from having to keep pace with his tremendous strides. I sent Litsi an old jacket (she begged me not to send a good one, as it might go the same way), and a blanket to sleep or rather to roll herself in—for there was no sleep for any one near that night. He had threatened to murder some of the villagers, and was stalking round and round our Premises with his loaded musket; but an Aneityumese Teacher kept watch over our house all the night.

“It so happened that next day had been appointed for a ‘Members’ Meeting.’ These meetings are held monthly, for John to appoint them their work, and change it from one to another, so that it might not always devolve upon a few. You know there is no paid door-keeper, or paid service of any kind connected with the Church, so the women take it in turns, two by two, every Saturday morning, to clean the Church and enclosure. One man is appointed bell-ringer, another to take off and on the pulpit coverings and carry in the Bible, etc., two to stand at the doors and see there are no loiterers outside, and so forth. Cases of sickness or wickedness are also reported, and Church matters generally talked over. At this meeting one woman was scored off for absconding from her legal husband and living with another; and Mungaw, who came in with the greatest blandness, as if nothing had happened, got a thorough ‘talking to,’ and was suspended till it should be proved whether he was more rogue or fool—for at that time we could scarcely tell. That he had become decidedly cracked and his mind to a certain extent unhinged, no one who saw and heard him could doubt—especially knowing what a dear good fellow he was before; still he seemed sane enough at times; and when he did break out, it was more like being possessed with evil spirits. All his madness took the form of wickedness, and when he saw people afraid of him he was the more emboldened. It was very difficult to know how to treat him. He was rather cowed at the meeting, though, and kept pretty quiet till the full moon, while meantime we had peace to get all our machinery into working order again....

“John has had great comfort with his big boys, however, especially the one we were most averse to take in,—a great ugly-looking fellow of about eighteen, couldn’t speak without a growl, and scowled at everybody from under his black wool, which hung down over his eyebrows. To crown all, he had been with the slavers—and that is no recommendation!

“After keeping with our boys a day or two and coming to evening class, on the third evening he sent in for a blanket, as he was ‘going to stay.’ We looked aghast. John was for receiving him; but I was at the crying point, and declared I could not feed more Natives or make food go further than other people. John said, ‘Then am I to send him away?’ Well, no! I was hardly prepared to do that either; so, after talking over it a few minutes, we felt sure the Lord had sent him; and though I did not feel particularly grateful at the time, I have often thanked Him since. We went to the blanket box, got a nice warm blanket (the Natives feel chilly at night), called him in, and John had a talk with him about certain rules, after which he took his gift with a very pleasant grin. He looked like a different creature with his hair cut; and a more faithful, helpful, warm-hearted Native lad we never had. In times of danger from Mungaw, he stuck by John like his shadow—no ostentation with it, but quietly getting some pretext for keeping close to him when there was any fear. A capital worker too—for John does not approve of keeping his boys idle, and they help him with whatever he is at, fencing, roofing, gardening, house-building, etc.

“One day he and another big boy (a great wag—keeps the others in roars of laughter, and himself the picture of solemnity) had been planing wood very nicely, and John praised them, calling them his ‘Carpenter’ and ‘Joiner.’ In the afternoon a slate full of writing was sent in, informing us that they wished from henceforth to drop their old names and be called ‘Carpenter’ and ‘Joiner.’ Nor would they answer to any other. We often forgot, at first, but were reminded by their paying not the slightest attention, till we came out with the new name—when they would instantly wheel round with a smile and be at our service!...

“One day, before John was quite recovered, Mungaw put a lot of impudence on his copy for my special benefit. I took no notice—he looked so wild—but pointed out a mis-spelt word, wrote a fresh line, and telling him to follow it closely passed quickly on to the next writer. I told John, when I went in, I was sure he would do some mischief ere long; and just an evening or two after, we heard him shouting and scolding from his house in an awful voice. John limped off, in spite of my entreaties to let them fight it out, and found Mungaw flourishing an axe over a poor woman, whose husband was from home and who had been helping Litsi to cook his fish, but had been unfortunate enough not to divine that on that particular evening he wanted it wrapped in a different kind of leaf from what was usual. He had brought the axe within a few inches of her shoulder, when two or three Natives, attracted to the spot just before John, stayed his arm and wrenched it from him. He got his musket next, but poor Sibo and Litsi both ran to our house for protection, while John and the Natives tried to calm him down. They got his musket from him, and I saw a Teacher slip it behind a tree in our lawn; but Mungaw was sharp enough to notice, and got it away again when the affray was over, and ordered poor Litsi back to her cooking. Sibo went to a distant village to be out of his way, declaring she was half dead with fright; and I would very much have liked to get away from the Island altogether! John’s spirit always rises equal to the emergency, but I get perfectly faint with terror, and the longer the worse. This was merely a little prelude, however, to what followed.

“Next morning he had the audacity to appear at one of the dining-room windows, as the girls were clearing away the breakfast things; and he demanded the keys from John, as he wanted to sharpen his axe at the grindstone. John said, ‘No, Mungaw, you’ll learn to put your axe to a better use first; and I want you to return the two you have of mine.’ He looked the picture of innocent wonder, and replied, ‘What do you mean, Missi?’ John replied, ‘I just mean that I want you to give up your bad conduct.’ ‘My bad conduct! What have I done?’ protested Mungaw. John said pointedly, ‘Do you not _know_, Mungaw?’ That was all the provocation he got; but he went off for his musket, muttering, ‘I’ll let you know who you’re talking to.’

“When he was gone, John went out to his Printing Office for something, and on leaving it saw Mungaw just inside our fence taking deliberate aim at him with his musket. John turned round to lock the door, showing no signs of fear, but feeling that all was over, and that he was to be shot down so near us all and yet none near enough to save; but God was watching! The next instant he heard a rush of feet, a scuffle, and looked round to see the musket pointed high in the air, and four strong arms grappling with the intended murderer. Two men had been accidentally (!?) coming up the path, took in the scene at a glance, and my husband was saved.

“I knew nothing of what was passing, but, feeling restless after Mungaw’s parting look, went out to hurry John in for worship. I met him coming in, and stopped short at sight of his pale face to ask if he were ill, and he told me all. We had just begun to sing at worship, when he re-appeared flourishing his musket, trying the doors and windows (you may believe I had them securely fastened by this time), and demanding entrance. We went on, taking no notice, but the _celestial quaver_ was plentifully introduced into the music, and the girls rushed into the dining-room in great fear. Meanwhile the news had spread like wildfire, and the Church members near came running to order him out of the Premises, which only made him wilder; so they seized him, took him to the Imrai, and bound him hand and foot with ropes. It was a terrible noise and scuffle, for he had the strength of ten men, and yelled like a demon.

“Two of his brothers so-called (not real ones) arriving on the spot, he thought to get up some sympathy, changed his voice to a whine, and bewailed his hard fate,—‘bound and persecuted for doing nothing at all!’ Litsi, gentle Litsi, took her boy in her arms, and walked up to him before the crowd, saying in a loud voice, ‘Look at the marks of your brutality on me and my helpless child, and say whether you deserve to be tied or not!’ It was an imprudent speech for her to make, poor girl, for which he did not forget to repay her. It was a terrible day for us all—poor little F. white to the lips with fear, I lying in a fainting state, and John walking up and down the room trying to keep up our spirits, and wee J.—oh! how we envied him—running about, playing ‘Peep-bo’ in happy unconsciousness of all. The Church members feared that some of the wilder young fellows, whom he had been favouring of late, would come to his aid; but when it was known he had attacked the Missi, not a finger was lifted in his defence.

“They did not know what to do with him, now they had him bound,—nothing in the shape of a prison or secure place on all the Island! They proposed our Cellar, but we didn’t want him quite so near as that; so they let him off at the end of four hours, and Litsi and little Nomaki took refuge with us. Mungaw got a little boy to tell him where they hid his musket; and, once more possessed of it, he flew all round the Island till towards sunset, when he divested himself entirely of his clothing, stuck on paint, and with musket shouldered walked sentry before our front gate for more than an hour. He seemed to be imitating the sentinels he had seen before Government House in Melbourne—a slight difference in the circumstances! But it was thought necessary to have a counter-guard over our Premises that night. The only good thing he did was to send his gracious permission to Litsi to stay in our house for the night, which she thankfully accepted.

“Next morning (Sunday) he met her pleasantly, called her to speak to him (our fence was between them), and threw a large stone at her head, informing her that was the price of her yesterday’s speech. We bound up the deep wound and advised her to lie quiet, but she preferred going to Church with us as the safest plan, for he had been caught several times during the night stealthily approaching our house to burn it, as they thought. None of the villagers slept, two of their lives being to danger. It was a most anxious Sabbath, and we had worship under difficulties—guards being placed at our house and the principal approaches to the Church. Oh, how regretfully I thought of the peaceful Sabbaths and quiet walks to Church in Melbourne, none making us afraid! But we tried to realize that the Lord Jesus was encompassing us around, and that He stood between us and Mungaw. The people begged John to be short, as they were in terror, so we had only one Service in Church, and, instead of Sunday School, a prayer meeting on the Imrai. Mungaw employed the time during Church service in ransacking the villagers’ boxes for ammunition, but they had it hid away; and at the prayer meeting he was reclining, with folded arms, eyeing us from our back verandah! After the prayer-meeting, John urged the different villagers to take it in turns to sleep near Mungaw’s house for the protection of Litsi who was being killed by inches, and at last they agreed; but as soon as we were in the house, he went and patched up a sort of peace—a sham to get the people away—and then abused the people near for tying him, and dragged Litsi home. We were half the night praying for the helpless girl, so completely at the mercy of that madman.

“Next morning, he came into the Imrai in grand style—musket in hand, of course—and scolded the people, working himself up into a frenzy and keeping us all on the rack, for _we_ could see from one of the Study windows,—when, to our great joy, ‘Sail O’ rang out, and it was comical to see how quickly he had to subside before this counter-excitement, and slink away! We felt it was in answer to prayer, more especially when a little afterwards he stood before our gate painted frightfully, and told our herd-boys that he was going in the Vessel if she called here. How earnestly we asked the Lord to let him go, if it were His will, but prayed above all for submission to bear what was appointed us, for we had the feeling he would stay. Poor fellow! he drove us closer into the Saviour’s arms than all Dr. Somerville’s meetings in Australia, for we had Him alone to look to. Natives were kind, but not capable of giving much help—they rather look to us for it—and poor things, we did pity them, when it was known that he had bought a large stock of ammunition, including balls, and that he stayed behind!

“It turned out to be the schooner _Daphne_ for Fiji; and the Government agent sent half a sovereign in a note, begging for opium, as he had seventy-five people on board, and one case of ‘assured sickness.’ John, of course, returned the money, but sent opium pills, laudanum, and chlorodyne, having no opium. We were glad of the opportunity of sending a few hurried notes, bearing a month’s later date than the _Dayspring_, which left on the 14th November. This is the only other Vessel that has called at our Island, since we returned, except the _Dayspring_....

“Christmas came next in order. The little stockings had been duly filled the night before, as F. took care to have J.’s and his hung up, with dim eyes at the thought of the other three which had been filled the year before. It turned out to be a bright day; the bairns were jubilant over their gifts; and there was a general rejoicing over dear Litsi’s re-appearance at the Evening Class—her lord and master having gone out in a canoe with some boys for a night’s fishing by torch-light. Litsi’s face beamed at having an hour or two with us all, for Mungaw did not allow her over her own fence, or any one to go near her; and, as all the women were frightened, his commands were obeyed to the letter, except by us, and for her sake even I had to go stealthily with food (he starved her), as he beat her when he found it out. Our girls did not require two biddings to put a plentiful supper before her, and were cheering her under breath with the hope that his canoe might turn bottom up and he get eaten with a shark, when the most unearthly yell from the shore turned us all pale with terror, and ‘Mungaw!’ was gasped from every lip. Litsi flew home, in terror lest he should find her _out_. The villagers seized their muskets and ran to protect their boys, and John and I to our knees in the Study. But the whole turned out to be a hoax! The boys’ canoe had upset among the reefs, and though they could swim like corks, and were in no danger, it was their pleasure thus to exercise their lungs while splashing about....

“Mungaw made rather a sad New Year’s Day for us, though. While we were at breakfast, more people assembled in the Imrai and high words ensued. John went out to them, determined to sift the matter to the bottom; and at last it came out that Mungaw had gone the day before to the village of Towleka, and said that the people of Inahutshi were going to shoot them on the morrow, and then he deliberately walked to Inahutshi and told them the same thing about the people of Towleka. He was bent upon war; wanted, in his own words, ‘to see blood run.’ Burning houses, and he had burnt several, was becoming rather tame work; and he wanted something more exciting. He boastfully acknowledged the part he had acted the day before, declaring that if they had not _said_ they were going to fight they _meant_ it, which was worse—better to have it out and done with—why else were they carrying their muskets? This was a little too much for their patience, and they did lay about him with their tongues, saying it was he and he alone who had introduced this carrying of muskets, by flying about with his own and threatening to kill everybody. He then said, that if they were not going to fight they ought to come out boldly for the Worship (he certainly did not approve of doing things by halves), singling out by name those whom he knew to have little differences with each other, and ordering them to shake hands and exchange pigs there and then!

“When John thought they’d had enough of it, for Mungaw was getting excited with his nonsense, he suggested that one of them should engage in prayer and let them then get home. A fine old Chief stood up under the banyan tree, and, waving his hand with a majesty a Native can assume at times, offered a simple, earnest prayer, and the people quietly dispersed. But Mungaw tried hard to get them together again, and insisted upon everybody being converted on the spot. He kept on this religious tack for about a fortnight, which was very pleasant, as it allowed us to sit with open windows and doors, and get fresh air and freedom.

“One day, when he was unusually gushing and had presented a pig and food to the very men he had sought to murder,—his speech indicating that the Millennial Reign was about to commence on Aniwa under his auspices,—a Church member said, ‘I think, Mungaw, the people will understand us better, if we burn our muskets and show that we’ll not fight, whatever they may do; here goes mine!’ And suiting the action to the word, he broke and flung his musket into the flames. Mungaw immediately followed suit, with a grand flourish, to the intense relief of all around, for he was a much less formidable personage without the musket, though he still fancied himself a great king. He sent in for a black suit, and permission to conduct the Worship next Sunday, which of course he did not get.

“John sent for him and had long talks with him; but saw it was little use,—he was so crazed, and thought every one in the wrong but himself. His standing grievance against John was—that he kept all the collections (!) taken at the close of Mission addresses (he insisted they went into his private pocket), and did not halve them with him, though he helped him to speak.

“He never forgot the scenes he saw in that den of iniquity to which some wretches took him in Melbourne, under pretence of kindness, when John was unable from my sudden illness in the country to take him home. It bamboozled his then simple mind, how in a land of Gospel light such appliances could be deliberately and systematically set on foot for the on-carrying of evil. I do think, that for their light,—mind, I say _for their light_—our black Christianity is superior to the white. The Natives often said,—‘How is it, Missi, that he was so good and strong for the Worship before he went to your good Land, and has been nothing but a plague since he returned?’ John, of course, emphatically cleared the ‘good Land’ from all blame, adding that he would take care not to give any of the rest of them a chance of going daft by a trip to Australia! They don’t pursue the argument after that, as all are eager to go, and perfectly willing, they say, to accept the risk.

“It was a blessing the Natives were so kind, and oh, how we experienced that ‘God stayeth His rough wind in the day of His east wind’; for except the trouble with Mungaw, we had no other serious ones to contend with, and He gave us to realize as I at least never did in the same way how entirely the work was His. It looked so mysterious, that after we had come down at such a sacrifice to health and family ties to devote our whole time to the work, it should be so retarded by one individual; for often, at his worst, only eight or ten had the courage to come to School, and we could as well have taught fifty. But we could leave it trustingly to the Lord, feeling that all we had to do was the work He laid to our hands from day to day. What a restful feeling it gives one to be ‘only an instrument in His hand.’...

“Litsi was the one most in danger, her house standing a little below ours, and I having been roused at three o’clock to attend her only the morning before, John was very averse to my going, in the circumstances; and I fain would have contented myself with sending her comforts, but I could not think to leave her with her mad husband, who had still sternly refused to let any one go near her; so I hurriedly dressed, roused the cook to boil the kettle, and took one of my girls with a lamp. We found to my intense relief the baby already born, and Mungaw so delighted at having another _son_ that he was inclined to be tolerably kind. I took advantage of his mood—as it was through him I could reach Litsi—praised him for being such a clever doctor, and advised him to get her into the house out of the raw cold air, and offered him the services of my girl to light a fire, which he graciously condescended to accept! When I went back with some tea and things for the baby, they looked much more comfortable, Litsi sitting in the house by a bright fire, with the lamp beside her. Urging her to lie down, I returned home and looked into the girls’ house to see how it was faring with my other invalid,—for dear Yawaci had been carried to us at her own request in a dying state.”...

“All that day was spent running betwixt the invalids. Dangerous symptoms ensued with Litsi. Mungaw got fearfully excited at a lot of women coming to see her, and stood over her with his loaded musket (he had stolen another, as the pious fit did not last long), appealing to me whether his word as Chief should be obeyed or not. I seconded his efforts, as they were doing no good, and got them cleared to a little distance—at hand if they were needed, and by deferential behaviour got him to let me come and go with food, etc. He attributed her illness to an absurd crotchet of his own, and held to it that she would be better at sundown. Meanwhile, the time was being wasted, and we had so many anxious thoughts. Was it right that her life should be sacrificed to a madman’s freaks? Was it right to give in to him, or how far was it right to risk his wrath? We took it all to our ever-present Counsellor; and then John decided that if I found her no better he would go himself, whatever the consequences.

“On my way I met Mungaw coming in at the gate with the empty dishes, and he said quite humbly that he was wrong in his supposition, and would like exceedingly if the Missi tané (= man Missi) would go and see her, for he did not know what to do. John soon put matters all right, telling them there was no cause for alarm,—gave directions about one or two things that had been neglected, and ordered fomentations. She had no more relapses, and he really seemed grateful the next morning when he came for her breakfast, as I could not go to her very early on account of the tidal wave.

“Poor Yawaci was our chief care after that. It seemed strange that Litsi, who so longed for death, should survive so much ill usage, for I could not pen a fiftieth part of the cruelty—the refinement of cruelty—with which he treated her. One instance will suffice. We missed him from Church one Sabbath, and found that he had spent the time _skinning_ the lower part of her face and _pinching_ little bits of flesh out of her chest from shoulder to shoulder, threatening her with his club if she dared to cry out. You will wonder that the Natives did not interfere. We began to lose all patience with them. I remember Mr. Inglis once saying, ‘It was worth living twenty years on the Islands just to know what we owed to Christianity,’ and how I thought they were stupid who did not find out all that in six months or less! I myself have had to live twelve years on Aniwa, however, to know what we owe to Lunatic Asylums, and also to learn how _exclusively_ a man’s wife is regarded as his own peculiar property—that is, to be used exactly as he likes. They would as soon think of interfering with a man’s conduct to his wife, as we would if in civilization a man chose to burn his own carpet or smash his own timepiece. They would break out into the most amused smile, when John was begging them to protect her, and say, ‘But, Missi, it’s his own wife!’ Of course, they were mad enough at him, Litsi being a general favourite, but could not well see their right to interfere.

“Yawaci’s breathing was rather easier; and about eight o’clock, after getting all she could want for the night, we were so thankful to see her lie down for the first time, and fondly hoped she was beginning to recover. She called the girls round her, telling them to sing; and, after beginning the translation of ‘Nearer, my God, to Thee,’ I slipped away leaving them singing it, and got to my bed thoroughly exhausted. Through the night, her husband knocked at our bedroom window, saying she was dying. John sprang up and went to her side, offering a short prayer, but her spirit fled before he had done, and she was buried amid heart-felt lamentations before Church Service on Sabbath, 3rd February. Our hearts were like to break, for she had been a faithful attached servant—_daughter_, rather—to us for ten years; a sweet little thing about eight or nine when she first came, and every year we liked her better. She had a great lump of _heart_, and I can never forget her devoted care of us all at that time when we were both laid up and our precious baby died. It was she I trusted to put the little form in its last resting-place, myself too weak to move! It was so sad to see her friends going about the next few days, their eyes red and swollen with weeping. Weeks after, on putting her Photo. into the hands of one of the sewing women, her head sank lower over it till the heavy sobs welled up; and as it was passed from one to another, there was hardly a dry eye—so generally was she beloved. You have all the same likeness, a true one, taken in Melbourne. Mungaw’s was not so good—at least it did not do him justice in his best days; but it is charming to what he looked like in his last few months—his face was so wild and ghastly.

“Poor fellow, I would fain pass over his sad end; but I must hasten on and have done with him, as I daresay you are as tired of the subject as I. The last open break out with his wife was on the day that her baby was three weeks old. He was in a very excited state in the morning, threw off his clothing, stuck on paint (he supplied himself with balls of blue from our washing-house!), and seizing his musket, said he was going to shoot some one ere he returned. The alarm spread, and John came to me at the sewing class to warn the women; but he soon came back, and I dismissed the School, feeling anxious to get the children into the house (John would not budge from his usual work, but he had always Natives with him), and get doors and windows shut. They had hardly gone when terrible screams came from his house, and I flew to implore our cooks to protect Litsi. Just then John rushed past me, telling me I must not hinder him, as he could not hear that poor girl being killed. Our boys ran with him, and met Litsi running from her house covered with blood streaming from the back of her head. John caught her as she fell forward in a fainting fit, and a woman caught up her baby; they were carried to the Imrai, where John bound up her head and revived her with brandy and water. I sent her some fresh clothes, as John would not let me see her till she was revived and doctored, and I followed with some dinner. Her tormentor was coming too, but John gave him a look which made him disappear into the bush in quick style. He re-appeared with the utmost coolness in a nice clean shirt about half an hour afterwards, and walked right into the Mission Premises, helping about a score of men to carry a huge log of wood which John had asked them to bring for some purpose.—I forget what. During the afternoon School he sat eyeing Litsi and grinning from the opposite side of the Imrai, and chatting with the passers-by, as if he had done no wrong!

“Poor Litzi sat leaning against the Church fence, too weak to notice anything, but thought she was safer there when John had to be in School. He told the Natives that she must not be left to her husband’s tender mercies any longer, but that they must take her to one of their distant villages, and if need be protect her with their muskets. Our house was too near; and besides, if he burnt it to get her it would simply mean death to us all,—our food was in it, and neither of us being extra strong, we could not exist on roots and leaves like Natives,—whereas any of their houses could be replaced in a few days. He said also that it would never do for him to use arms,—his work was to teach, theirs to protect each other when necessary. They all saw the force of his words and heartily agreed with him, but all managed to back out of it, one after another, Litsi being too high-spirited to ask protection from any of them.

“When we heard that she was left with only a few women we both felt it our duty to shelter her, regardless of consequences, and ran out to fetch her; but the poor girl had fled with her two little ones to hide for the night in a plantation, one or two women keeping her company.

“Amid all her own danger, she was mindful of us, and sent a messenger to warn us that Mungaw would be sure to burn the house that night if he could. We had a few necessaries selected, a cask of flour, hops for yeast, changes of clothing, etc., to put into the Printing Office, which would not burn so easily with its zinc roof; but when our Aneityumese Teacher came after dark for their quiet removal, Mungaw accompanied him as far as the door! We all laughed. It was no use, with such a vigilant spy upon all our movements. But we were specially reminded of some One watching over us.

“It began to pour torrents of rain, as it so often did when there was imminent danger, and I sent coverings for the wanderers, hot tea, etc., by a circuitous path, with orders to take them to another invalid should Mungaw meet them. Our girls entered eagerly into it, and poor Litsi was made tolerably comfortable in body for the night, there being an old deserted hut in the plantation. Next morning, her cousin whispered to me that two men had taken her under protection to Towleka, a village a mile off, and that Mungaw had no idea of her whereabouts, supposing her to be with us, as he had sent word the evening before that he would kill her if she went anywhere else.

“He got fearfully roused at not finding her by the afternoon, and sprang up after writing a line or two of his copy (he insisted on attending School) to go in search, beginning at the nearest villages, armed with club and killing-stone, and nearly frightening the life out of a dumpy little virago, who was in the habit of hen-pecking her own husband. It was capital to see her thoroughly cowed for once! His wrath grew with his want of success; and, returning after school, he told our boys in a tone of suppressed rage that he was now going to Towleka to kill Litsi if he found her there. One of them flew through the bush to warn her of his approach, and John and I went to the Study to commit her to God. I think I would have gone mad myself, if we had not had our never-failing Refuge in these troublous times!

“We heard after retiring for the night an infant’s piteous wail, and found that, failing to get the mother (for the Natives would not let him finish her quite, though he dragged her out of the house by her hair, _wool_ rather), he had torn the baby from her and rushed home with it, knowing that she would follow it at any risk. It was _awfully_ hard to keep John in the house, but I felt there was not the slightest use in going. We heard other voices remonstrating, and the cries ceasing we knew that Litsi had come. About midnight, what seemed to be the death wail in Litsi’s voice made us think he had murdered the baby. It continued for about three hours, and rose to a perfect agony of distress before stopping. On inquiry at daybreak, for which we anxiously waited, it turned out that he had tied her arms and legs in the most savage manner, only loosing her when two or three Natives went to the rescue. It was at the risk of their lives they did it, and all warned us not to go to their house that morning, as he was raving mad and would not hesitate to kill any one coming near.

“We just felt that poor Litsi had all the more right to our sympathy, when no one else would go. They insisted that she was dead and the baby too, there was such silence round all the place. John would not let me go alone, and I would not let him go alone, so we compromised the matter by going together, and took a plentiful breakfast as an excuse for intruding on his lordship’s privacy, the Natives looking after with wistful eyes, but not one offering to accompany us to the lion’s den! I trembled violently, though I felt the Lord was with us, and was almost relieved when we found the house deserted; but John called aloud for Litsi several times, and at last she came staggering from an enclosure opposite, from which the occupant had fled when Mungaw first went mad. She was trembling with pain and weakness, and when we were going over the stile, she looked back alarmed and said, ‘You’d better not, Missi,’ so we spoke a few cheering words as we stood, and told her again that our house was open to her, night or day, whenever she needed shelter.

“Some of the Church members came to ask what was to be done with him. Tieing only made him worse; confining or shooting were the only other alternatives. To confine him was impossible. Were they to shoot him? John, of course, would not hear of that, and they asked if there was no sort of medicine to cure madness! A near friend got him away to his village, where they had a long talk, and warned him of the consequences. The moment he went, I ran off to sit awhile with Litsi. We feared she would sink under her trials, and wished she had access to the rich consolations with which we were upheld every day in our little readings both of the Bible and other books. It seemed as if the Words were printed for our express circumstances and comfort. My own morning Reading was in the Psalms, and I never felt them so suitable. The very ones I used to think David had written in a fit of indigestion were fraught with the deepest comfort and meaning, and favourite passages were more precious than ever. I never noticed before that the passage, ‘Lead me to the Rock that is higher than I,’ begins with ‘From _the end of the Earth_ will I cry unto Thee,’—so applicable to us! John and I have often remarked to each other that we had to come all the way to the South Seas to understand some bits of the Bible; and I see Bowen in his ‘Daily Meditations’ says the same in reference to India, where he laboured so devotedly as a Missionary. We have another precious book which we were reading aloud and enjoyed next to the Bible,—Boardman’s ‘In the Power of the Spirit,’ given us also before leaving Australia.

“How we wished poor Litsi could share all these privileges, and wondered if her faith were keeping alive at all, but her spirit was beautifully submissive. When I told her that, however difficult it might be for her to believe it, her Saviour God was tenderly caring for her every moment and would not let her have one more trial than she could bear, and that it would relieve her to take all her sorrows to Him, she replied, ‘Oh, I know it, Missi; my whole words now are prayer; for I have no one else to speak to, and would have gone mad if I could not have told my Saviour! I tell Him everything, and know that it is all right even if Mungaw should kill me, for he can’t harm me beyond the grave.’ I told her not a single night passed that we were not engaging in prayer for her, and she said,—‘These prayers have been answered; for he has had the wish to kill me and burn your house, and he could easily have done both had not God prevented.’