Journal of Residence in the New Hebrides, S.W. Pacific Ocean

by C. Bice; A. Brittain

This same man told me another curious custom they have with respect to revenge. If a man has a grudge against another and he wishes to kill him, or if he wishes to kill someone as a set off against someone belonging to him having been killed, he refuses to wash his hands until such time as they can be washed with blood. He told me of three brothers, Bushmen, who swore to kill a man apiece, the two younger brothers have already performed their part of the contract, but the dirt is still thick on the hands of the eldest, and he still means murder when he can get the convenient opportunity. It does not matter much, I believe, who the victim is as long as he has not many friends to retaliate. Poor weak inoffensive mortals in this way often lose their lives, innocent sacrifices to heathen brutalism and bloodthirstiness. We came home in the cool of the most glorious evening, a strange contrast in its peace and loveliness to the rage and horror of savage brutalism. A quiet evening service and the song of melody seemed more in tune with the scene without, and I trust that the Peace of God which passeth all understanding may ever keep our hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God and of His Son Jesus Christ.

I gave notice last Sunday of Holy Communion to-morrow, and this evening I held a Communicants’ class at which were present the two Arthurs and Patrick. Anthony and Samuel are too far away to be able to attend. I cannot but esteem it a high privilege and blessing to be enabled to receive and dispense the Bread of Life here in this once heathen village, and I pray that we may be strengthened and refreshed for our work, and show forth God’s praise not only with our lips but in our lives, and by giving up ourselves more fully to His service. May the time too be hastened when some of these good people may be permitted to partake of the visible tokens of redeeming love.

It is now late, and except for the singing of crickets, perfectly still, fit prelude, I trust, to a peaceful Sabbath.

Sunday, August 1st.—Another peculiarly cold night, so cold indeed that I could not sleep although I had taken care to make proper preparations against it. How these poor ill clad, blanketless people fare I cannot make out, but no doubt they pile on the wood. It was most perfectly calm all through the night, and this morning there was a very heavy dew. The wind was blowing from some westerly quarter, and it has continued there with some strength all the day. We began our day very early with a Celebration of the Holy Communion. The two Arthurs, Patrick, and myself made up the quorum. It was a nice, quiet, refreshing time, and a fresh and green oasis in a somewhat arid, spiritual desert. I think, perhaps, it belongs to the native character and disposition to do without certain things which are to us essential, and the loss even of the Holy Communion is not so serious deprivation to them as to us. Native minds, I fancy, adapt themselves too readily to the existing condition of things, and because they live in the desert they must never even pine for the food and water which is not directly attainable. Unless the Holy things of our religion are kept before them in constant practice they are too wont to dispense with them, and be content with the dry husks such as their neighbours around feed upon. I shall therefore try to keep up the regular administration of the Holy Communion both for the present strengthening and refreshing of their souls, and for a continual remembrance that the reception of it is necessary to salvation. Easy native natures are too apt to float along with the popular stream, and to be content with dry, dull teaching and drier, duller services, and I sometimes long for the time when we shall have a more ornate church and appointments, and a more elaborate ritual. I firmly believe it would be helpful to the congregation. Now we are too content with such things as we have, and they are poor at the best.

After the Celebration we had school. We assembled first in the schoolhouse, sang a hymn and I said a Prayer, then divided into classes, I myself taking all the old men into the Church, and trying to explain the sense of the collect to them. I told them how God had prepared for them that love Him such good things as pass man’s understanding, and I asked them how we knew that. I told them that God had revealed these things to us by His Son Jesus Christ, and He had left His testimony with us in His Gospel, and the books which persons chosen by Him had written under the influence and direction of His Holy Spirit. Their religion was a matter of mere hearsay and conjecture, and had been handed on from mouth to mouth, and had grown as it came down after the manner of mere verbal testimony. There could be no doubt with us because we have the living testimony of Christ’s own words which never pass away. Their religion came from nowhere and no one knew of its beginning; of ours at all events we were sure. I told them too that in England and other countries, where arts and sciences were known and practised far beyond anything they could conceive of, there were things so marvellous that their understanding could not grasp even the faintest idea of them, and how much more marvellous, wonderful, and glorious must the things be which God has prepared for such as love Him. Why even here below we see great and wonderful and mysterious things which pass the understanding of the world’s wisest minds, and how much more wonderful still must the things be which are to be revealed hereafter, when the eye shall be purified to see, the ear to hear, and the senses to discern the beauty and true glory of them. And what does God, who thus prepares these blessed things for us, require of us? Why to love Him above all things. Each one of us had some darling idol, to which we offered the devotion of our hearts, but it must be torn down and removed if it comes before our love to God. And the end of this love was God Himself, and to dwell with Him for ever as inheritors of His gracious promises which exceed all that we can desire. The old fellows were very attentive, and interspersed running remarks, and when I had done I asked them to kneel down, and I said the Collect as a Prayer for them. Meanwhile the other teachers had school with their scholars in the schoolhouse. The first class of boys and girls had to say their Collect by heart, and after that they were questioned on its meaning. School was closed with Prayer and a Hymn, and then I was ready for breakfast, very dry, uncooked rice with sugar and cocoanut cream, and a cup of delicious Norfolk Island coffee. Morning Prayer followed in due course before the day got too hot, and after this everyone was busy with their Sunday meal for the afternoon. The day was as hot as the night was cold, but it was most glorious, and all nature seemed to be keeping its Sabbath. The evening was perfectly serene and peaceful, a fit termination to a quiet, restful day.

In the evening I had the teachers, and after that service at which I preached from the gospel of the day, “Except your righteousness exceed the righteousness of the Scribes and Pharisees.” They were very attentive during my remarks, so I trust I was understood. I told them God did not want us merely to come to school and church but He wanted the devotion of the heart, it was not outward righteousness He wished for, but inward truth and honesty and straightness. The Pharisees were very good Churchgoers, but their heart was not right with God, &c., &c.

After Service we had singing which they always enjoy, and even now I hear their voices in the School house singing “There’s a friend for little children.” I had intended to have made an excursion to the neighbouring villages to-day but I could not manage the time, the day having gone so rapidly. Now it is very cool and betokens another cold night but Oh! how calm and peaceful!

Monday, August 2nd.—Another peculiarly cold night ushered in a most glorious day. A very heavy dew lay all round, and until the sun was quite high in the heavens the cold was very perceptible, and a flannel coat was very agreeable. I took two photographs early and trust they are good, but it would be very hard to reproduce the original so lovely as it appeared in the morning light. The scene too was animated with the cheery voices of the people, the crowing of the cocks, the merry laughter of the boys, and even the squealing of the pigs as they followed their owners for their morning food, lent additional and characteristic charm to the occasion. All this one cannot photograph, but it is necessary to suppose all this to give an idea of the village as it is on these glorious mornings. Here we are several hundred feet above the sea level, and a good way inland so that a pleasant day breeze always fans the air, and keeps the place gratefully cool under cover of a roof, or in the shade. I believe one could live here quite comfortably all the year round, and for myself I never feel better than I do here. There is such a freedom too about life here that one can carry a light heart and a contented mind in a healthy body. To-day almost without exception the people are off to the beach to windward. At this time of year the tides are very low, and leave the reefs almost entirely uncovered. Fish and crabs and other sea oddities are therefore left exposed, and the first named are shot by the men in the pools, and the women collect the latter, which are looked upon as choice articles of diet. Just now I am left quite solitary, but I have just dismissed a bevy of ladies who came to see the present seven days wonder, my magnetic fish. They cannot fathom the mystery at all why when one point of the fishing rod as they call it, is presented to the fish they eagerly rush at it, and why when the other they rapidly retire. They solve the problem by saying it is a “Wui,” (spirit). And it must seem strange to them as all our belongings must being of an order of art, so far removed from their conceptions or achievements. A kerosene lamp to this day is a marvel to them, and the manipulation equally mysterious, why it should flare up when turned one way, and why it should die when turned the other. One old woman who has been very sick and up to-day for the first time, came with the crowd and greeted me in the most maternal manner, grasping my hand in both her own, and calling me “Baua,” an obsolete word now, but belonging to a district called “Loqala” which was utterly devastated years ago by enemies among whom were these very people of Tanrig. This old lady and her son Samuel, now my head teacher at Tasmouri, are the sole survivors I believe, and she retains the expression or appelation by which a grandmother greets her grandson.

I brought a box of refuse toys from Norfolk Island to which our boys and girls there have grown superior, and the exhibition and distribution of them created quite a furore. One would never suppose in these days of superior enlightenment that any people could be found simple enough to go into ecstacies over a halfpenny toy, but these women and children have gone off perfectly enraptured with their new possessions, and I dare say they will treasure them up for many a day and find pleasure in the contemplation and exhibition of them. One poor young mother has just brought in great distress her infant child which she says is suffering from a pain in its side, and the only remedy I can conceive of is a dose of castor oil. The father comes around to my side of the table, and whispers that it has not been ‘washed’ yet, meaning that it has not been Baptized, and that it has no name. While writing this Samuel appeared with another friend from Tasmouri, and I went with them to the beach where all the population had previously gone. Our path lay through the carefully and skilfully irrigated taro fields, and of course it was very bad in some places. Crossing one place I made a false step and went up to my knees, it was a fitting judgment on my pride for I refused the assistance of a stalwart follower’s back, which had borne me dry and safely over two such places before. I presented a strangely harlequin appearance with white flannel trowsers above the knee, and black mud gaiters below. However appearances are easily pardoned here, and the only grief was at my own discomfort. The people of course all said it was because the roads were so bad, but that was too palpable a truism, and was no relief to my feelings. Bootless and trowserless, these paddy paths make no difference to them, and mud has not the same appearance on a black skin. However we went to the sea-shore and saw the sport which was not much. One very large fish was caught with a hook and line, and the women had great horse-loads of shell fish, but generally the bowmen came off badly. The tide was out to the utmost limit of the reef, and quite half-a-mile from the shore the rocks were entirely exposed. Of course there was some very good reason for the failure and ill luck, and I was somewhat surprised to hear the wind blamed. It so happened that what of that element there was, was off shore, but if it had been only blowing in shore it would have driven in the fish. However there was disappointment depicted on every countenance, and there was some trifling relief to the feelings in putting the blame on the wind. Probably if the wind is all right to-morrow something else will be wrong, and so on. What a wonderful place in the English language those two little words ‘if’ and ‘but’ have, and how they qualify almost every action of mankind, and how usually are they made use of in self-extenuation. How scarcely possible is it to describe a single character without the use of one or other of them! He would be a very nice fellow ‘if.’ She would be an estimable woman ‘but.’ On our homeward road I marched boldly through mud and water taking pride I suppose in revenging myself, and showing my unmentionables that now the pink of their whiteness was off, they might just as well be a little more dirty. However, a refreshing bath was some return for my chagrin and discomfort, and I hastened home for a clean change. The cooks brought me two deliciously cooked fish for dinner, and were very disappointed when I sent them back untasted. I am never very partial to fish, and in these latitudes my digestive organs rebel even against the smell of them. However, the boys very soon picked the bones, and perhaps were not sorry that I had not partaken. There is great feasting going on to-night with both sexes, the men with their fish supper and the women with shell-fish.

Everywhere to-day we saw the bush lit up with the bright red “Rarava,” a gorgeous tree, which flowers at this time of the year, and gives its name to the winter season. The other season is called “Magoto” from a reed of that name which shoots in spring, and these are the only native seasons of the year. There does not seem to be however any very marked distinction or peculiar line of demarcation between summer and winter as regards the heat and cold, but in fact it does seem to be warmer in the “Magoto” and cooler in the “Rarava.” To an Englishman however it is always hot, and he does not detect any material difference. One shivers now to think of ice and snow and of such concomitants of the winter season, for here of course they are absolutely unknown.