John G. Paton · 31 of 48

Chapter VI. Face to Face with Heathenism · Part 2

“Naswai, what’s this your men are about? What’s all the uproar?”

The Chief replied, “Have you not heard, Missi?”

“Heard?” said I. “The whole island has heard your ongoings for three days! I can get no peace to study, or carry on my work.”

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“Missi,” said the Chief, “Nelwang has eloped with Yakin, the wealthy widow, and all the young men are taking their revenge.”

“Oh,” replied I, “is that all? Call your men, and let us speak to them.”

The men were all assembled, and I said: “After all your kindness to Yakin, and all your attention to her since her husband’s death, has she really run away and left you all? Don’t you feel thankful that you are free from such an ungrateful woman? Had one of you been married to her, and she had afterwards run away with this man that she loved, that would have been far worse! And are you really making all this noise over such a person, and destroying so much useful food? Let these two fools go their way, and if she be all that you now say, he will have the worst of the bargain, and you will be sufficiently avenged. I advise you to spare the fruit trees—go home quietly—leave them to punish each other—and let me get on with my work!”

Naswai repeated my appeal.

“Missi’s word is good! Gather up the food. Wait till we see their conduct, how it grows. She wasn’t worth all this bother and noise!”

Three weeks passed. The runaways were nowhere to be found. It was generally believed that they had gone in a canoe to Tanna or Erromanga. But one morning, as I began my work at my house alone, the brave Nelwang appeared at my side!

“Hillo!” I said, “where have you come from? and where is Yakin?”

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“I must not,” he replied, “tell you yet. We are hid. We have lived on cocoa-nuts gathered at night. Yakin is well and happy. I come now to fulfil my promise: I will help you, and Yakin will help Missi Paton the woman, and we shall be your friends. I have ground to be built upon and fenced, whenever we dare; but we will come and live with you, till peace is secured. Will you let us come to-morrow morning?”

“All right!” I said. “Come to-morrow!” And, trembling with delight, he disappeared into the bush.

Thus strangely God provided us with wonderful assistance. Yakin soon learnt to wash and dress and clean everything, and Nelwang served me like a faithful disciple. They clung by us like our very shadow, partly through fear of attack, partly from affection; but as each of them could handle freely both musket and tomahawk, which, though laid aside, were never far away, it was not every enemy that cared to try issues with Nelwang and his bride. After a few weeks had thus passed by, and as both of them were really showing an interest in things pertaining to Jesus and His Gospel, I urged them strongly to appear publicly at the Church on Sabbath, to show that they were determined to stand their ground together as true husband and wife, and that the others must accept the position and become reconciled. Delay now could gain no purpose, and I wished the strife and uncertainty to be put to an end.

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Nelwang knew our customs. Every worshipper has to be seated, when our little bell ceases ringing. Aniwans would be ashamed to enter after the Service had actually begun. As the bell ceased, Nelwang, knowing that he would have a clear course, marched in, dressed in shirt and kilt, and grasping very determinedly his tomahawk! He sat down as near to me as he could conveniently get, trying hard to conceal his manifest agitation. Slightly smiling towards me, he then turned and looked eagerly at the door through which the women entered and left the Church, as if to say, “Yakin is coming!” But his tomahawk was poised ominously on his shoulder, and his courage gave him a defiant and almost impudent air. He was evidently quite ready to sell his life at a high price, if any one was prepared to risk the consequences.

In a few seconds Yakin entered; and if Nelwang’s bearing and appearance were rather inconsistent with the feeling of worship,—what on earth was I to do when the figure and costume of Yakin began to reveal itself marching in? The first visible difference betwixt a Heathen and a Christian is,—that the Christian wears some clothing, the Heathen wears none. Yakin determined to show the extent of her Christianity by the amount of clothing she could carry upon her person. Being a Chiefs widow before she became Nelwang’s bride, she had some idea of state occasions, and appeared dressed in every article of European apparel, mostly portions of male attire,[170] that she could beg or borrow from about the premises! Her bridal gown was a man’s drab-coloured great-coat, put on above her Native grass skirts, and sweeping down to her heels, buttoned tight. Over this she had hung on a vest, and above that again, most amazing of all, she had superinduced a pair of men’s trousers, drawing the body over her head, and leaving a leg dangling gracefully over each of her shoulders and streaming down her back. Fastened to the one shoulder also there was a red shirt, and to the other a striped shirt, waving about her like wings as she sailed along. Around her head a red shirt had been twisted like a turban, and her notions of art demanded that a sleeve thereof should hang aloft over each of her ears! She seemed to be a moving monster loaded with a mass of rags. The day was excessively hot, and the perspiration poured over her face in streams. She, too, sat as near to me as she could get on the women’s side of the Church. Nelwang looked at me and then at her, smiling quietly, as if to say,—

“You never saw, in all your white world, a bride so grandly dressed!”

I little thought what I was bringing on myself, when I urged them to come to Church. The sight of that poor creature sweltering before me constrained me for once to make the service very short—perhaps the shortest I ever conducted in all my life! The day ended in peace. The two souls were extremely happy; and I praised God that what might have[171] been a scene of bloodshed had closed thus, even though it were in a kind of wild grotesquerie!

Henceforth I never lacked a body-guard, nor Mrs. Paton a helper. Yakin learned to read and write, and became an excellent teacher in our Sabbath school; she also learned to sing, and led the praise in Church, when my wife was unable to be present. In fact, she could put her hand to everything about the house or the Mission, and became a great favourite amongst the people. Nelwang fulfilled his promise faithfully. He was indeed my friend. Through all my inland tours, either he or the Sacred Man, Kalangi (who first attempted twice to shoot me, and then, after his conversion, acted as if God had entrusted him with the keeping of my life), faithfully accompanied me. With tomahawk or musket, or both in hand, they were always within reach, and instantly started to the front wherever danger seemed to threaten us. These were amongst our first and best Church members. Nelwang and the Sacred Man have both gone to their rest. But Yakin of the many garments has also had many husbands. She rejoices now in her fourth, and is still a devoted Christian, and a most interesting character in many ways.

The progress of God’s work was most conspicuous in relation to wars and revenges among the Natives. The two high Chiefs, Namakei and Naswai, frequently declared,—

“We are the men of Christ now. We must not[172] fight. We must put down murders and crimes among our people.”

Two young fools, returning from Tanna with muskets, attempted twice to shoot a man in sheer wantonness and display of malice. The Islanders met, and informed them that if man or woman was injured by them, the other men would load their muskets and shoot them dead in public council. This was a mighty step towards public order, and I greatly rejoiced before the Lord. His Spirit, like leaven, was at work!

My constant custom was, in order to prevent war, to run right in between the contending parties. My faith enabled me to grasp and realize the promise, “Lo, I am with you always.” In Jesus I felt invulnerable and immortal, so long as I was doing His work. And I can truly say, that these were the moments when I felt my Saviour to be most truly and sensibly present, inspiring and empowering me.

Another scheme had an excellent educative and religious influence. I tried to interest all the villages, and to treat all the Chiefs equally. In our early days, after getting into my two-roomed house, I engaged the Chief, or representative man of each district, to put up one or other of the many outhouses required at the Station. One, along with his people, built the cook-house; another, the store; another, the banana and yam-house; another, the washing-house; another, the boys’ and girls’ house; the houses for servants and teachers, the Schoolhouse,[173] and the large shed, a kind of shelter where Natives sat and talked when not at work about the Premises. Of course these all were at first only Native huts, of larger or smaller dimensions. But they were all built by contract for articles which they highly valued, such as axes, knives, yards of prints and calico, strings of beads, blankets, etc. They served our purpose for the time, and when another party, by contract also, had fenced around our Premises, the Mission Station was really a beautiful little lively and orderly Village, and in itself no bad emblem of Christian and Civilized life. The payments, made to all irrespectively, but only for work duly done and according to reasonable bargain, distributed property and gifts amongst them on wholesome principles, and encouraged a well-conditioned rivalry which had many happy effects.

Heathenism made many desperate and some strange efforts to stamp out our Cause on Aniwa, but the Lord held the helm. One old Chief, formerly friendly, turned against us. He ostentatiously set himself to make a canoe, working at it very openly and defiantly on Sabbaths. He, becoming sick and dying, his brother started, on a Sabbath morning and in contempt of the Worship, with an armed company to provoke our people to war. They refused to fight; and one man, whom he struck with his club, said,—

“I will leave my revenge to Jehovah.”

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A few days thereafter, this brother also fell sick and suddenly died. The Heathen party made much of these incidents, and some clamoured for our death in revenge, but most feared to murder us; so they withdrew and lived apart from our friends, as far away as they could get. By-and-bye, however, they set fire to a large district belonging to our supporters, burning cocoa-nut and bread-fruit trees and plantations. Still our people refused to fight, and kept near to protect us. Then all the leading men assembled to talk it over. Most were for peace, but some insisted upon burning our house and driving us away or killing us, that they might be left to live as they had hitherto done. At last a Sacred Man, a Chief who had been on Tanna when the Curaçoa punished the murderers and robbers but protected the villages of the friendly Natives there, stood up and spoke in our defence, and warned them what might happen; and other three, who had been under my instruction on Tanna, declared themselves to be the friends of Jehovah and of His Missionary. Finally the Sacred Man rose again, and showed them rows of beautiful white shells strung round his left arm, saying,—

“Nowar, the great Chief at Port Resolution on Tanna, when he saw that Missi and his wife could not be kept there, took me to his heart, and pledged me by these, the shells of his office as Chief, taken from his own arms and bound on mine, to protect them from all harm. He told me to declare to the[175] men of Aniwa that if the Missi be injured or slain, he and his warriors will come from Tanna and take the full revenge in blood.” This turned the scale. The meeting closed in our favour.

Close on the heels of this, another and a rather perplexing incident befell us. A party of Heathens assembled and made a great display of fishing on the Lord’s Day, in contempt of the practice of the men on Jehovah’s side, threatening also to waylay the Teachers and myself in our village circuits. A meeting was held by the Christian party, at the close of the Sabbath Services. All who wished to serve Jehovah were to come to my house next morning, unarmed, and accompany me on a visit to our enemies, that we might talk and reason together with them. By daybreak, the Chiefs and nearly eighty men assembled at the Mission, declaring that they were on Jehovah’s side, and wished to go with me. But, alas! they refused to lay down their arms, or leave them behind; nor would they either refrain from going or suffer me to go alone. Pledging them to peace, I was reluctantly placed at their head, and we marched off to the village of the unfriendly party.

The villagers were greatly alarmed. The Chief’s two sons came forth with every available man to meet us. That whole day was consumed in talking and speechifying, sometimes chanting their replies: the Natives are all inveterate talkers! To me the day was utterly wearisome; but it had one redeeming feature,—their rage found vent in hours of palaver,[176] instead of blows and blood. It ended in peace. The Heathen were amazed at the number of Jehovah’s friends; and they pledged themselves henceforth to leave the Worship alone, and that every one who pleased might come to it unmolested. For this, worn out and weary, we returned, praising the Lord.

But I must here record the story of the Sinking of the Well, which broke the back of Heathenism on Aniwa. Being a flat coral island, with no hills to attract the clouds, rain is scarce there as compared with the adjoining mountainous islands; and even when it does fall heavily, with tropical profusion, it disappears, as said before, through the light soil and porous rock, and drains itself directly into the sea. Hence, because of its greater dryness, Aniwa is more healthy than many of the surrounding isles; though, probably for the same reason, its Natives are subject to a form of Elephantiasis, known as the “Barbadoes leg.” The Rainy Season is from December to April, and then the disease most characteristic of all these regions is apt to prevail, viz., fever and ague.

At certain seasons, the Natives drank very unwholesome water; and, indeed, the best water they had at any time for drinking purposes was from the precious cocoa-nut, a kind of Apple of Paradise for all these Southern Isles! They also cultivate the sugar-cane very extensively, and in great variety; and they chew it, when we would fly to water for thirst, so it is to them both food and drink. The[177] black fellow carries with him to the field, when he goes off for a day’s work, four or five sticks of sugar-cane, and puts in his time comfortably enough on these. Besides, the sea being their universal bathingplace, in which they swattle like fish, and little water, almost none, being required for cooking purposes, and none whatever for washing clothes (!), the lack of fresh springing water was not the dreadful trial to them that it would be to us. Yet they appreciate and rejoice in it immensely too; though the water of the green cocoa-nut is refreshing, and in appearance, taste, and colour not unlike lemonade—one nut filling a tumbler; and though, when mothers die they feed the babies on it and on the soft white pith, and they flourish on the same; yet the Natives themselves show their delight in preferring, when they can get it, the milk from the goat and the water from the well.

My household felt sadly the want of fresh water. I prepared two large casks, to be filled when the rain came. But when we attempted to do so at the water-hole near the village, the Natives forbade us, fearing that our large casks would carry all the water away, and leave none for them with their so much smaller cocoa-nut bottles. This public water-hole was on the ground of two Sacred Men, who claimed the power of emptying and filling it by rain at will. The superstitious Natives gave them presents to bring the rain. If it came soon, they took all the credit for it. If not, they demanded larger gifts to[178] satisfy their gods. Even our Aneityumese Teachers said to me, when I protested that surely they could not believe such things,—

“It is hard to know, Missi. The water does come and go quickly. If you paid them well, they might bring the rain, and let us fill our casks!”

I told them that, as followers of Jehovah, we must despise all Heathen mummeries, and trust in Him and in the laws of His Creation to help us.

Aniwa, having therefore no permanent supply of fresh water, in spring or stream or lake, I resolved by the help of God to sink a well near the Mission Premises, hoping that a wisdom higher than my own would guide me to the source of some blessed spring. Of the scientific conditions of such an experiment I was completely ignorant; but I counted on having to dig through earth and coral above thirty feet, and my constant fear was, that owing to our environment, the water, if water I found, could only be salt water after all my toils! Still I resolved to sink that shaft in hope, and in faith that the Son of God would be glorified thereby.

One morning I said to the old Chief and his fellow-Chief, both now earnestly inquiring about the religion of Jehovah and of Jesus,—

“I am going to sink a deep well down into the earth, to see if our God will send us fresh water up from below.”

They looked at me with astonishment, and said in a tone of sympathy approaching to pity,—

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“O Missi! Wait till the rain comes down, and we will save all we possibly can for you.”

I replied, “We may all die for lack of water. If no fresh water can be got, we may be forced to leave you.”

The old Chief looked imploringly, and said: “O Missi! you must not leave us for that. Rain comes only from above. How could you expect our Island to send up showers of rain from below?”

I told him: “Fresh water does come up springing from the earth in my Land at home, and I hope to see it here also.”

The old Chief grew more tender in his tones, and cried: “O Missi, your head is going wrong; you are losing something, or you would not talk wild like that! Don’t let our people hear you talking about going down into the earth for rain, or they will never listen to your word or believe you again.”

But I started upon my hazardous job, selecting a spot near the Mission Station and close to the public path, that my prospective well might be useful to all. I began to dig, with pick and spade and bucket at hand, an American axe for a hammer and crowbar, and a ladder for service by-and-bye. The good old Chief now told off his men in relays to watch me, lest I should attempt to take my own life, or do anything outrageous, saying,—

“Poor Missi! That’s the way with all who go mad. There’s no driving of a notion out of their heads. We must just watch him now. He will find[180] it harder to work with pick and spade than with his pen, and when he’s tired we’ll persuade him to give it up.”

I did get exhausted sooner than I expected, toiling under that tropical sun; but we never own before the Natives that we are beaten, so I went into the house and filled my vest pocket with large beautiful English-made fish-hooks. These are very tempting to the young men, as compared with their own,—skilfully made though they be out of shell, and serving their purposes wonderfully. Holding up a large hook, I cried,—“One of these to every man who fills and turns over three buckets out of this hole!”

A rush was made to get the first turn, and back again for another and another. I kept those on one side who had got a turn, till all the rest in order had a chance, and bucket after bucket was filled and emptied rapidly. Still the shaft seemed to lower very slowly, while my fish-hooks were disappearing very quickly. I was constantly there, and took the heavy share of everything, and was thankful one evening to find that we had cleared more than twelve feet deep,—when lo! next morning, one side had rushed in, and our work was all undone.

The old Chief and his best men now came around me more earnestly than ever. He remonstrated with me very gravely. He assured me for the fiftieth time that rain would never be seen coming up through the earth on Aniwa!

“Now,” said he, “had you been in that hole[181] last night, you would have been buried, and a Man-of-war would have come from Queen ’Toria to ask for the Missi that lived here. We would say, ‘Down in that hole.’ The Captain would ask, ‘Who killed him and put him down there?’ We would have to say, ‘He went down there himself!’ The Captain would answer, ‘Nonsense! who ever heard of a white man going down into the earth to bury himself? You killed him, you put him there; don’t hide your bad conduct with lies!’ Then he would bring out his big guns and shoot us, and destroy our Island in revenge. You are making your own grave, Missi, and you will make ours too. Give up this mad freak, for no rain will be found by going downwards on Aniwa. Besides, all your fish-hooks cannot tempt my men again to enter that hole; they don’t want to be buried with you. Will you not give it up now?”

I said all that I could to quiet his fears, explained to them that this falling in had happened by my neglect of precautions, and finally made known that by the help of my God, even without all other help, I meant to persevere.

Steeping my poor brains over the problem, I became an extemporized engineer. Two trees were searched for, with branches on opposite sides, capable of sustaining a cross tree betwixt them. I sank them on each side firmly into the ground, passed the beam across them over the centre of the shaft, fastened thereon a rude home-made pulley and block, passed a rope over the wheel, and swung my largest bucket to[182] the end of it. Thus equipped, I began once more sinking away at the well, but at so wide an angle that the sides might not again fall in. Not a Native, however, would enter that hole, and I had to pick and dig away till I was utterly exhausted. But a Teacher, in whom I had confidence, took charge above, managing to hire them with axes, knives, etc., to seize the end of the rope and walk along the ground pulling it till the bucket rose to the surface, and then he himself swung it aside, emptied it, and lowered it down again. I rang a little bell which I had with me, when the bucket was loaded, and that was the signal for my brave helpers to pull their rope. And thus I toiled on from day to day, my heart almost sinking sometimes with the sinking of the well, till we reached a depth of about thirty feet. And the phrase, “living water,” “living water,” kept chiming through my soul like music from God, as I dug and hammered away!

At this depth the earth and coral began to be soaked with damp. I felt that we were nearing water. My soul had a faith that God would open a spring for us; but side by side with this faith was a strange terror that the water would be salt. So perplexing and mixed are even the highest experiences of the soul; the rose-flower of a perfect faith, set round and round with prickly thorns. One evening I said to the old Chief,—

“I think that Jehovah God will give us water to-morrow from that hole!”

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The Chief said, “No, Missi; you will never see rain coming up from the earth on this Island. We wonder what is to be the end of this mad work of yours. We expect daily, if you reach water, to see you drop through into the sea, and the sharks will eat you! That will be the end of it; death to you, and danger to us all.”

I still answered, “Come to-morrow. I hope and believe that Jehovah God will send you the rain water up through the earth.” At the moment I knew I was risking much, and probably incurring sorrowful consequences, had no water been given; but I had faith that the Lord was leading me on, and I knew that I sought His glory, not my own.

Next morning, I went down again at daybreak and sank a narrow hole in the centre about two feet deep. The perspiration broke over me with uncontrollable excitement, and I trembled through every limb, when the water rushed up and began to fill the hole. Muddy though it was, I eagerly tasted it, and the little “tinny” dropped from my hand with sheer joy, and I almost fell upon my knees in that muddy bottom to praise the Lord. It was water! It was fresh water! It was living water from Jehovah’s well! True, it was a little brackish, but nothing to speak of; and no spring in the desert, cooling the parched lips of a fevered pilgrim, ever appeared more worthy of being called a Well of God than did that water to me!

The Chiefs had assembled with their men near by[184] They waited on in eager expectancy. It was a rehearsal, in a small way, of the Israelites coming round, while Moses struck the rock and called for water. By-and-bye, when I had praised the Lord, and my excitement was a little calmed, the mud being also greatly settled, I filled a jug, which I had taken down empty in the sight of them all, and ascending to the top called for them to come and see the rain which Jehovah God had given us through the well. They closed around me in haste, and gazed on it in superstitious fear. The old Chief shook it to see if it would spill, and then touched it to see if it felt like water. At last he tasted it, and rolling it in his mouth with joy for a moment, he swallowed it, and shouted, “Rain! Rain! Yes, it is Rain! But how did you get it?”

I repeated, “Jehovah my God gave it out of His own Earth in answer to our labours and prayers. Go and see it springing up for yourselves!”

Now, though every man there could climb the highest tree as swiftly and as fearlessly as a squirrel or an opossum, not one of them had courage to walk to the side and gaze down into that well. To them this was miraculous! But they were not without a resource that met the emergency. They agreed to take firm hold of each other by the hand, to place themselves in a long line, the foremost man to lean cautiously forward, gaze into the well, and then pass to the rear, and so on till all had seen “Jehovah’s rain” far below. It was somewhat comical, yet far[185] more pathetic, to stand by and watch their faces, as man after man peered down into the mystery, and then looked up at me in blank bewilderment! When all had seen it with their own very eyes, and were “weak with wonder,” the old Chief exclaimed,—

“Missi, wonderful, wonderful is the work of your Jehovah God! No god of Aniwa ever helped us in this way. But, Missi,” continued he, after a pause that looked like silent worship, “will it always rain up through the earth? or, will it come and go like the rain from the clouds?”

I told them that I believed it would always continue there for our use, as a good gift from Jehovah.

“Well, but, Missi,” replied the Chief, some glimmering of self-interest beginning to strike his brain, “will you or your family drink it all, or shall we also have some?”

“You and all your people,” I answered, “and all the people of the Island may come and drink and carry away as much of it as you wish. I believe there will always be plenty for us all, and the more of it we can use the fresher it will be. That is the way with many of our Jehovah’s best gifts to men, and for it and for all we praise His Name!”