My health was very poor, and at times I was quite ill. I was able most of the time, however, to get around, and to preach to the people, either those who called on me, or those I had the privilege of visiting. My missionary companions were also energetic in their labors. Occasionally we had the opportunity to extend our acquaintance into prominent circles of society. For instance, on June 27th, we attended a select party in honor of the French admiral. There was a grand illumination. I also visited captains of vessels engaged in traffic between the islands, and had pleasant chats with them on the principles of the Gospel. I did not fail to talk to the natives whenever occasion offered, and this was frequent. On July 2nd, in the market square, a large crowd gathered around me as I preached, and most of them acknowledged the truth of the principles I taught. Then, lest the police stop me for raising an excitement, I changed to asking questions, as in conversation, so no offense could be taken by the officers.
I learned an interesting bit of missionary history on July 3rd. This day, I met Mr. J. S. Henry, who said his father was one of the first Christian missionaries on the islands, having come to Tahiti in 1797. They had a very hard time of it. For years their clothing was made of the bark of the bread-fruit tree, and they had gone barefooted for a long time, their shoes and clothing having worn out. They had been five years without receiving any supply from their society. My informant was born on the island. I loaned him a copy of the Deseret News, which contained sermons by President Wilford Woodruff and by Elder C. W. Penrose, who was editor of the paper at that time.
Monday, July 4, 1892, was the sixty-fourth anniversary of my birth, and I was spending it in far off Tahiti. I had but few callers that day, and consequently but few congratulations. I continued my efforts to make myself more proficient in the Tahitian language, and from day to day proceeded with the duties that rested on me. July 12th an aged man Tematu called on me, saying that he was from the island of Anaa, and had been my servant on the occasion of my former visit. He told me of the four members of the Church that were hanged by the French; for in the trouble then they had killed a policeman and had wounded severely a Catholic priest. The names of the executed men were Tefaitina, Reifara, Maru, Mafeuta and Temutu.
Among the very aged people I met was one who called on me on July 18, Timou, aged one hundred and three years. I also met, at a blacksmith shop, on July 21st, a native of Pitcairn's island, William Christenson. He was a descendant of one of the mutineers of the British ship Bounty. He told the story as follows: The Bounty sailed from England in the year 1689, the company intending to collect plants from the South Sea Islands. They called at Tahiti, and made their collection, then got some natives and their wives and some other women on board, and put out to sea. Fletcher Christenson, first mate, and some of the crew mutinied, getting control of the vessel. They put the captain, whose name was Blythe, and those who wished to go with him, into the best boat, supplied them with such articles as they desired which were at hand, and set them adrift. This party subsequently reached England, while the first mate and crew ran the ship into a small bay at Pitcairn's Island, where they wrecked the vessel, taking the supplies on shore. All went well for a time, till the native men became jealous of the white men and killed most of them. Afterwards, at the instance of the remaining white men, the women killed the native men who had escaped in the former trouble, so there were left but two of the white men and the women. These, and after them, their descendants, lived on the island, which was but a few miles in circumference. The population increased to about four hundred souls, when the British government moved them to Norfolk Island. Some of them returned to Pitcairn's, and at that time (1892) there were one hundred and thirty-six souls on the island, every one belonging to the Seventh Day Adventists, and all speaking the English language. Mr. Christenson said that the only names of the mutinous crew he remembered besides those of the captain and his own progenitor, were John Adams, —— McKay, John Mills, Isaac Brown and —— Yindle. Christenson's story does not harmonize precisely with the generally accepted history of the affair, but I have given it as he related it.
For a considerable time we had endeavored to get passage for some of the Elders to the island of Tuamotu, but were unsuccessful, so we divided Papeete into missionary districts, Elder Damron and my son Elando taking the east side, and Elders Seegmiller and Jones the western district. During the latter part of July and the greater portion of August, I was quite ill, and was troubled greatly with neuralgia. On August 14th, we applied to the Josephites for permission to speak in their house, but it was refused, resulting in quite a discussion among the members of the Josephite congregation, some of whom were quite friendly to us. On the 23rd my son Elando and I left Papeete, by invitation, for Tautila, going in a boat in which there were four other men and a woman, the latter being a sister of the owner of the craft. When we got off Haapape the wind became so high that the men were obliged to row for the shore, and we found refuge in the home of Terumana, a native, who fed us on native food and gave each of us a good bed.
We had to remain there till 11 p.m. on the 25th, when we started to sea again, the night being pitch dark. The woman made me as comfortable as was possible in the small boat, and all went well for a time with the exception of seasickness. Then it came on to rain very hard, and we were all wet. Early in the morning we ran into shore, and the men in charge of the boat asked us to pray, which I did. We then proceeded on our way with a cocoanut each for breakfast, and at half-past eight p.m., on the 26th, reached the mouth of a river on Tautila.
Our host was Mr. Hiotina, and his wife's name was Teumere. She was an invalid, her frame almost a skeleton, but she was a very bright woman intellectually. Her memorizing of Scripture passages was truly a marvel. The next day after our arrival was Saturday, and many people came out of curiosity to see us. On Sunday, the 28th, about sixty people assembled, and our host requested us to hold religious services, which we did. While I was preaching on faith, repentance, and baptism, taking my text from the third chapter of Matthew, an old lady went over to my son, who was near the door, and requested baptism. This was the first application of the kind made to us on the island. The lady had been a member of the Church, but had become negligent. At 5 p.m. that day she was baptized by Elder Elando Brown, and I confirmed her a member of the Church, there being many people present, among them a Protestant minister.
We stayed on Tautila until September 9th, visiting among the people and preaching and talking to them, as opportunity afforded, though we could not get a house to preach in. On the 9th we returned to Papeete, the voyage being very rough and trying. I could hardly stand on my crutches when we landed, at 10 p.m.
On the 11th we arranged for four of us to go to Tubuoi, but the governor informed the captain that he could take but two white passengers, so on August 15th Elder Seegmiller and I left on a vessel bound for the island named. The voyage lasted till the 20th and was decidedly uncomfortable. We did not have sufficient food, there was no bedding, and the water on board was filthy. Worn and exhausted, we were glad to get ashore at Tapuai, where we were coldly greeted. We secured a comfortable lodging room, so far as appearances were concerned, and plenty of fleas for bed-fellows. Our room-mate was a young man named Alexander Drolett, interpreter for the French captain of a government schooner that was lying in the harbor. There we met Tapuni, a native Josephite preacher who had been on the island about five months. He tried to be sociable, but was ill at ease, apparently being discomfited by our arrival. We found the people generally very distant, as if they did not wish us there. Mr. Drolett, however, was kind and sociable, and we had the privilege of explaining to him the nature of our calling on the islands.
September 22, 1892, was the one hundredth anniversary of the first French republic, and a feast and holiday had been proclaimed. Flags were hoisted, and the people gathered to the feast. We were among those invited, and were seated at the table with the captain of the French schooner and his interpreter, and the governor and his wife, also Tapuni. About ninety persons were at the feast. Dinner was served in French and native styles blended. This was followed by singing, and by dancing and contortions of the old heathen fashion, until I was worn out.