Part 13

_Thursday, October 28th._--Fine day with strong fresh Trade wind blowing. I was busy all day here at home doing little odds and ends of things preparatory to my anticipated visit from Mrs. Selwyn. The people were all away busy at their gardens, and I was left alone most of the day. I could not find time to get to Ruosi, so I went without my customary dip in the river.

The people were all back in the evening, and their lively chatter and merriment were a pleasing contrast to the ghostly stillness which had reigned throughout the day. We had Prayers late because the people were late with their dinner.

_Friday, October 29th._--Not a very fine day, and threatening for rain. Directly after school the people were away to their gardens, but three or four boys were working for me here. They felt the slight shock of an earthquake, but I did not perceive it. The undivided opinion here is that earthquakes are the precursors of rain, and often indeed I have known it so to result, but it seems rather an extraordinary law to lay down. However, there are abundant signs of a no very distant downpour, and the prophets may have a chance of being right in their present conjecture. We were very busy all day, but towards evening snatched time enough to go to Ruosi for a bathe. The rain kept off well, but there was a sprinkle in the evening, and evident signs of a great deal more before very long. I have felt the heat here very oppressive for the last few days, and by the appearance of the sky we must soon have some dirty weather with thunder.

_Saturday, October 30th._--The storm came on us with a vengeance this morning at daylight, and kept on for a long time. At times the flashes and thunder peals seemed simultaneous, and the crashes were peculiarly heavy. I have never known a more severe storm in the Tropics, and as for the rain it simply poured down in torrents.

I did not get up till late, and Mattins were later than usual. However, being a holiday it did not so much matter. In my house it was as dark as night, and all day it has been very sombre and dull. Rain has kept on continuously all the time, and it has been impossible to move out. The people, however, in spite of wet and dirt are up and about, and do not seem to mind the weather. Many here, indeed, prefer the rain to the sun for making journeys and doing certain works. Rain does not seem to give them cold or ague, and I suppose that custom has become second nature.

I could not get out all day except to my duties, and these wet days at home are somewhat trying, especially when you are anxious to be about. It was somewhat finer in the evening at Prayer time, and we had a good congregation, but it did pour down while we were at service, and this gave us a good excuse for a long singing practice.

_Sunday, October 31st._--Another wet and intensely disagreeable day. However, there were spells of fine weather, and during those we performed our duties. School came first with a full house, the elder classes saying the Collect for the day and the Church Catechism, and answering questions on the former, the juniors reading from school books and large printed sheets. When school was over I was quite prepared for breakfast, and eschewed rice for once in a way for prawns which the boys brought me. Sometime after breakfast we had Mattins, a very nice service and especially well attended. I experienced much distress of mind from the illness of my friend “Virelumlum,” the Opa chief who came over with me. He has been very ill all day with acute inflammation of the lungs, and we have had to keep hot water applications going, off and on, all day. He moans for home, too, and there is no chance of getting him there. While at Opa, A. P. Huqe was so ill, and here now I have my other visitor a patient on my hands. In the evening I was down myself with ague and could not go to Church, and had no dinner.

_Monday, November 1st._--Terribly stormy, rough night, and a most unpleasant day, the disagreeableness of which was not decreased by the continued serious illness of my visitor Virelumlum. All day yesterday and again to-day it has been a continual anxiety and care to me, and I have been dabbling about in the mud and wet dancing attendance upon him. He has quite a serious attack of inflammation of the lungs, and I have had to keep hot flannels going almost continuously, and rack my brains to find out what to give him to keep up his rapidly decreasing strength. In addition to his sickness he has developed a craving for home, and a strong impression that he is going to die here, which with natives sometimes is actually equivalent to mean that they will not recover, and when a native makes up his mind to die, he in most cases does die. There is no remote possibility of getting my friend home in such weather as we are having, and he is killing himself with worry. If the weather were fine I would willingly take him across to Opa in my boat, but that is scarcely possible in a gale of wind and a downpour of rain. On the whole it has been a most anxious and unpleasant day. Being “All Saints’” Day I gave an address in the evening instead of School, and no one, I fancy, was sorry to be indoors out of the cold and wet. I had to paddle off after every one was quietly within doors to feed my patient and make him comfortable for the night.

_Tuesday, November 2nd._--A most terrible night, wherein it blew with almost hurricane violence in the squalls, with a perfect deluge of rain accompanied by heavy thunder and lightning. I was not sorry or ungrateful to be brought safely to the beginning of another day. My first business when I got up, was to trudge off to my patient, whom, thank God, I found better, but all day long since I have had to look after him, for he is no exception to the idiocy of all natives, who when they feel a bit better, rush off and do some extraordinarily foolish thing. It was a terrible day throughout, and I was so fortunate in keeping my man within doors, that this evening he was visibly on the mend, and likely to make a good and I hope a rapid recovery. I read him a most strong lecture this morning about his craving for home, and told him he could not possibly get there in this weather, and that he was better where he was even if he could. I said he never would recover if he went on distressing himself about getting home, and told him that he was killing me too, by continually crying for what he could not possibly obtain. And what a lot of spilt milk I have cried over these last few days in my regret at having brought a big man here at all. But the inutility of weeping is more apparent to me than his crying for home is to him. I can hardly say what I have done to-day either to benefit anyone else or myself. This evening I have turned away from my dinner, leaving it untasted, and I feel that I must go to bed.

_Wednesday, November 3rd._--An attack of ague last night has made me feel weak and good for nothing this morning. However, I had to get up, and the prospect outside was as dismal as ever. Rain and wind and gloominess. My patient, thank God, is most decidedly better, and if he takes care of himself will do very well now. I have had a fire in my house all day, and with Dr. Codrington’s book on the Melanesian languages, have got on very pleasantly. I should like, however, to see a little sunshine, and one has a right to expect it now in the height of summer. I am dreadfully afraid Mrs. Selwyn’s visit to me will be impossible, when the ship arrives the roads will be so impassable. Towards evening it cleared a bit and I was able to move out, but generally speaking, everyone has been kept close prisoner to-day. The people who always seem to me to love paddling about in the wet, expressed a strong disinclination to move from their houses, and in the absence of other occupation or amusement, have been asleep most of the day I fancy. A native’s capacity for sleep is unbounded, and perhaps a fortunate thing for him, but he can wake at any time, day or night, and get up straight away. We had our usual Evensong and singing class, the weather keeping fairer until we had all got indoors again in our several houses, when down came the rain. There is a sweet, lulling, comfortable sound in rain when you are safe indoors, or perchance in bed, and sleep seems to come unwooed. I practice here what I seldom do anywhere else, read in bed, and far on in the stillness of the solemn night, I read on and on with keen enjoyment and a sense of rest, for one gets tired of sitting in a land devoid of easy chairs and sofas. The usual posture of a native is to squat on his heels or else to recline, naturally our high seats are foreign and uncanny to them. I cannot myself squat for any length of time, and at times I sigh for the comfort of a good easy chair.

_Thursday, November 4th._--Very wet, dispiriting morning, and threatening for another stormy day. It cleared off, however, and barring showers we have had a fine day.

A most interesting ceremony took place here to-day called “uli meroana,” (_i.e._ “untieing war.”) The event ought to have come off long ago, but the chief actors in the sad drama which led to its necessity have been somewhat dilatory. Sometime since the natives of “uta” (the inland as distinguished from the shore) attacked a village in our district and killed three people. They were the agressors and the sole actors--the people did nothing but pack up their goods and clear out, some flying in one direction and some in another. The majority took refuge in this part of the island and have never done anything in the way of retaliation, but have always gone armed since and been on the alert, not with the object of revenging their injuries, but from fear of further attack.

However, thank God, all has been quiet since, and the Uta people have the fire coals so heavily heaped on their head, that being first in agression they have been the first to make amends. They came down yesterday in great numbers, all armed, of course, and bringing three pigs with them. Our people were all present too, very fully armed, and also bringing three pigs. The chief man on the Uta side and the attacker stood out in the open with his pig, and the chief among the injured stepped out, and walking around the pig took it from the other, first passing his hand over the pig’s back and head and the rope he was held with, and then delivering the scape pig to the injured. This was done thrice, _i.e._ with each several pig. Then the ceremony was changed to our side and the like performance gone through, and the pigs delivered one by one to the attackers. There was thus a mutual exchange and no one was the loser, indeed so far from it that had the pigs been made for the occasion and cast in the same mould, they could scarcely have been more of a size, shape, and colour. It would seem, according to our ideas, as if the aggressors ought to have paid all the pigs without receiving any in exchange, but no, native custom seems to be different, and a fair exchange must be made. After the pigs had been delivered, there was some speechifying and a good deal of after talkey-talkey, and the quondam enemies became the best of friends. I hope they will continue so, I am sure, and I think they will. I made a little speech, in which I glorified peace and good-will, and denounced fighting and bloodshed. I have never seen such a concourse of people in Maewo, certainly, and the place perfectly bristled with guns and poisoned arrows. The natives, although they seem somewhat careless with these weapons, are really very careful, and an accident seldom or never happens through carelessness. I do not like the poisoned arrows, and keep clear always of them, for the smallest prod from one would most probably prove fatal. Very soon the vast concourse had dispersed, and the pigs, the mediators, were escorted off to their new places of residence, but I do not fancy they felt the weight of the aggressor’s repentance, or the forgiveness of the attacked. A small coal of inward anger would very soon kindle again the blaze of war, for after all I fancy there is not much love lost between the two parties. With one of my Opa boys I came back here to get my towels, and then made a start for Ruosi and Kerepei, being anxious to bathe, and also to see the road the boys have made for Mrs. Selwyn’s feet to tread in. I must say after my observation of it, that if her anticipated visits everywhere have the same effect of causing people to mend their ways, she may well be satisfied with her trip down here. The road was not good before, neither is it perfect now, but the boys have certainly made a most passable track, the question is whether a lady can manage the first steep climb. In anticipation of this, they have strained a strong climbing reed, like the rail of a balustrade, and by this it is hoped she may be able to ascend. The road otherwise is now very good. A delicious bath at Ruosi was made doubly delicious by some days’ privation, and my present liquid condition.

We got home here in the evening, and I dined very late, but with much more of an appetite than I have had for some time. In the evening A. P. Huqe being laid up, I gave an address at Evensong, instead of school.

_Friday, November 5th._--The glorious 5th November, Guy Fawkes, of unhappy memory! Very wet night, but fairly fine day. People very busy to-day, so they asked me to relinquish school, which I did. I made preparations for photographing a pretty part of the river, but the rain came down and I had to give it up. However, my dry plates are at an end, and the few I have left I must keep for a peradventure of something good before I leave.

_Saturday, November 6th._--Squally, unsettled sort of day, after a very rough night. Great preparations were being made here in the morning, for the Bishop’s and Mrs. Selwyn’s advent. When it was done I went with the boys to Ruosi, where I sat and watched their sports and gambols in the water, and thought how the one touch of nature makes the whole world kin. Human nature and boy nature is the same everywhere, and these boys are just like every other boy except in colour. They had a great spur of fun and frolic, and boy-like pleasure produced no languor or tediousness. I made a descent to “Wosawosa,” and looked in vain for the ship.

Back and dined, and everything as usual.

_Sunday, November 7th._--The Mission schooner arrived with all on board well. After Morning Prayer I went down to the vessel, but it was too dirty for Mrs. Selwyn to come up to the village, but in the evening Mr. Cullwick came back to Tanrig and spent the night with me. The account of the work in the islands farther North, was very cheering, and it had a fresh and charming meaning, as told by Mrs. Selwyn in the full enthusiasm of her first voyage into these new but beautiful regions. The evening services in our little native Church was a sad and solemn one, for I said my public farewell to the people, in prospect of my leaving them for a long time, inasmuch as it was decided for me to go to England. Mr. Cullwick was very much struck with the beauty of the service, and the devotion of the worshippers. When we bid them “Good night” they all said, “Ah! this will be the last good night for a long, long time.”

_Monday, November 8th._--The Bishop and Mrs. Selwyn came to stay with me at Tanrig. It was fortunately a most beautiful day, and Mrs. Selwyn, partly carried and partly on foot, made the journey without any great fatigue. Of her visit, she herself no doubt will write.

_Tuesday, November 9th._--We stood across to Opa, distant about twenty-five miles from this part of Maewo. The people were in floods of tears at the final parting, and a general wail went up from all, as the boat drew off from the shore. At Opa we anchored for the night.

_Wednesday, November 10th._--The Bishop and I were rowed ashore early, and examined the school at Lotahimamavi. This is as yet in embryo, but the people were very nice and most friendly, and seemed quite in earnest about their school duties. A proper school house has yet to be built, but this they have undertaken to do as soon as they have dug their yams. Their yam digging answers to our harvest. Leaving this place we went on board the _Southern Cross_ to breakfast, and afterwards to examine the school at Tavolavola. The Bishop was much pleased with the state of this school, and the great proficiency attained to by some of the young scholars. Prizes of knives, calico, beads, fish-hooks, &c., were distributed and then we went to Lobaha, another school. Before leaving Tavolavola, Mrs. Selwyn was anxious to see how the natives got up the coconut trees. There are no branches of course, to hold on to, and many natives tie a cord around their feet, and some use an ingenious arrangement with cord for their hands. But these natives go up hand over hand without any help or assistance. The lad in question was up the tree, had thrown down green coconuts, and descended again with wonderful and astonishing rapidity, with nothing on his hands or feet.

Before we got to Lobaha it began to rain heavily, and I was overtaken with a fit of ague, and had to lie shivering on the beach while the Bishop went alone to examine the school. It poured in torrents all the way home, and I was very miserable.

_Thursday, November 11th._--Away early from Opa and started for Araga, distant over twenty miles from this part of Opa. There the school was examined, and we left in the evening for the South end of the island. This we reached on

_Friday, November 12th_, the Bishop going ashore in a strong gale of wind, and in pelting rain, to examine the school and bring off Mr. Brittain, who had been spending some days there. They were not long before both were on board, and Mr. Brittain, thank God, quite well.

When the boat was hauled up we stood out to sea, and so on our homeward journey for Norfolk Island, which we reached after a stormy but quick passage on November 18th, and found all well at home. “Praise thou the Lord Oh! my soul, and forget not all His benefits.”

REV. A. BRITTAIN.

For the year 1886 my contribution will be concerned with the time between April 3rd and November 18th. On the former date the _Southern Cross_ left Norfolk Island on the first trip of the year, and on the latter we reached it again at the end of our voyaging season. I had never before left for the islands on the first voyage, but our plans gave me a longer stay than usual. My own island, Araga, was to take up the usual time, but I was to make a stay also in the Bank’s Islands, which would be out of the ordinary course. As it turned out, however, the arrangements were of necessity altered, and no stay was made in the Bank’s Islands.

The _Southern Cross_ left Norfolk Island with a wind very strong, but altogether fair. None of the regular Araga boys were on board, as they were to return home on the second voyage, according to our plan. One lad, however, we had with us, whose presence in the _Southern Cross_ was quite out of the ordinary course. The explanation concerning him will show something of the individual efforts made in various places to give some sort of instruction to those who are taken from our islands to work on the plantations and elsewhere. On the whole they are simply neglected, with the result that they return home having learnt almost all the vices, and none whatever of the virtues, of the white man. Personal interest has in some cases induced thought and work for their benefit. In Sydney was one instance of this. The visit of a young lady to Norfolk Island on the occasion of the Consecration of the Memorial Chapel increased her interest in the Mission, and on her return to Sydney she sought some kindred work. A class was established for natives from the islands engaged in different kinds of work in the city, and it has proved most successful. Several of the lads are from our own islands, and as it has happened that the Bishop has been in Sydney at convenient times, he has twice held Baptisms of members of the Class. One of these Baptized lads made a request that he might be taken home in the _Southern Cross_. His home was Araga, and he came to Norfolk Island in readiness for the first voyage of the _Southern Cross_. It was apparently five or six years since he had been taken away in a labour vessel to Noumea, whence he had found it possible to make a move to Sydney. And this was the end of his life in foreign countries--he was returning home a Christian, with, in some respects, a surprising knowledge, with a perfectly good character from all who knew him, and with a great desire to do something for the benefit of his fellow-countrymen. All that had hitherto been done in Araga is in the northern part of the island, the remainder of the island being partially known only, while the extreme southern end was quite unknown and inaccessible. The lad, Thomas Rorsal, gave us to understand that his village was right in the south, close to the neighbouring island of Ambrym, and we had then the prospect of breaking into new parts.

On April 8th, that is on the fifth day from Norfolk Island, we were in the passage between Araga and Ambrym. A boat was lowered, Tom’s belongings placed in it, and we pulled in shore to find his village, which he could not distinguish from the vessel. A clump of cocoa-nuts was recognised by him, and at last we pulled into a good sandy beach with very good landing, where a crowd had already collected for our reception. Their returning brother was at once recognised, and his goods shouldered with great readiness. The Bishop’s bad foot forbade his leaving the boat, but I landed and went up with the people to their village, which was quite close at hand, though invisible from the beach owing to the very thick bush. Tom had previously expressed his determination to build a house for school purposes as soon as possible, and I, through him, told the people of our plans and something of what we hoped to do among them. We thereupon, in consequence of the readiness they expressed, chose a convenient site for the house, and I promised to make a boat voyage to them as soon as I could conveniently get away from the northern district. It was evident that there could not be a great population in the immediate neighbourhood, as there was only a small level tract lying off the beach, backed up by somewhat high hills, which would doubtless form a separate district from the beach villages.