When we got near to Morabi, the village we were making for, the beach was covered with thousands upon thousands of little round crabs who moved with the precision of an army. If one got in front of them, and stamped on the sand, no confusion followed, but the army, as though at the word of command, turned off and went in another direction. For at least a mile we walked through these strange little creatures, they opening up a way by which we might pass and not one of them getting under our feet.
Morabi is on the left as we stand at the mouth of Galley Reach, but away on the right bank is a spot that will always be of interest to those connected with the L.M.S. It was there, where the village of Manumanu stood, that in 1872 the first Christian teachers landed. Sixteen years later most of the houses had been moved to Morabi, and now there is no village at Manumanu. Few of those who witnessed that landing are now alive, but their descendants are the people we are going to see. After Ieru the Samoan teacher, the first to welcome us is Naime, till lately as fine a specimen of a man as could be found in the country. He was too young to have distinct memories of the landing of those first teachers, but has been good friends with their successors.
The usual round of service, school, doctoring, and talking to the people having been accomplished, the next thing was to arrange for an experience which does not often come to the missionary in the more settled districts, that is, a visit to new ground, and an introduction to new people.
To mark the event we will deal with it in a new chapter.
CHAPTER X
Korona, a Hillside Village
For some time people had been coming down from the hills and asking that a teacher might be sent to live with them. They were suffering severely from raids by their enemies, and were anxious for peace and protection. Fortunately there was a Samoan widower, who had no fixed station, and I told him to visit such villages as he could get at, and try to make peace. He had taken up his temporary quarters at a village called Korona, and he and the people were anxious that we should visit them. The road, they admitted, was a rough one for an English lady to travel, but as they had gone to the trouble to clear parts of it, so they said, Donisi Hahine decided to accept the invitation.
To have the help of the rising tide an early start was made on the Tuesday morning. We were in the boat by four o’clock, while it was yet dark.
People may ascend Snowdon or the Swiss mountains to view the sunrise, but they could never see one more beautiful or more impressive than on that particular morning in Galley Reach. All around was the great expanse of water, so calm that it reflected the clouds. Away on either side, and right ahead, were the low banks covered without a break by the fresh bright green of the mangroves. Then when the eyes were lifted higher came the hills wrapped in mist as in fleecy cotton wool, and behind them tier above tier rose the peaks and ridges of the Owen Stanley Range. As the light became stronger the peaks, over 12,000 feet high, stood out with wonderful distinctness. Then the pale glow turned to gold and rose, as the sun came up behind the mountains, and as it mounted higher and higher, the lower peaks on our side of the range were lit up one after another like so many great electric lights. The white mists curled further up the range, and though details were lost, the effect was grandly harmonious.