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.