Word had reached Tanna, that, in a quarrel with Sandal-wooders, the Erromangans had murdered three white men and a number of Natives in their employment, in revenge for the white men’s shamefully entreating and murdering the Erromangans. On Tanna all such news were reported and talked over, when the Chiefs and their men of war met for their evening repast—an event that generally wound up with drinking Kava, which first produced intoxication like whisky and then stupefaction like a dose of laudanum. Excited by the rumours from Erromanga, they had drunk more than usual, and lay about their Village Drinking-Hall in a helpless host. Enemies from an inland tribe stealthily drew near, and discharged their muskets amongst them in the dark, killing one man, and so, according to their custom, war was known to be declared.
Early next morning, Miaki, the war-chief, despatched his herald to sound the Conch and summon the people to battle. He made the Harbour and all the country resound with it for six miles around, and the savage hordes gathered to the call. Putting our trust in God, we quietly resolved to attend as usual to our work and await the result. Excitement and terror drove the Natives hither and thither. One man close to us being nearly killed, his friends assembled in great force, and with clubs and spears, tomahawks and muskets, drove the offending tribe more than a mile into the bush. They, in turn, being reinforced, drove their enemies back again to the beach. There, seated within hearing distance, they carried on a grand sort of barbarous-Homeric scolding match, and exhausted their rage in javelins of reproach. A great relief seemed thereby to ensue, for the rival Chiefs thereon approached our house and entreated me to dress their wounds! I did so, and appealed to them for peace, and got their promise to let that conflict come to an end. Alas, for the passing influence of such appeals,—for I learned shortly after this, on my return from Aneityum, where I had gone for a fortnight to recruit from the effects of an almost three months’ continuance of recurring ague and fever, that eight of the Harbour people had been murdered near our house at Port Resolution. The Natives got into a dreadfully unsettled state, each one wondering in terror who would be the next to fall.
About the time of my dear wife’s death, our brother Missionary, Mr. Mathieson, also became exceedingly unwell. His delicate frame fast gave way, and brought with it weakness of the mind as well; and he was removed to Aneityum apparently in a dying condition. These sad visitations had a bad effect on the Natives, owing to their wild superstitions about the cause of death and sickness. We had reason to fear that they would even interfere with the precious grave, over which we kept careful watch for a season; but God mercifully restrained them. Unfortunately, however, one of my Aneityumese Teachers who had gone round to Mr. Mathieson’s Station took ill and died there, and this rekindled all their prejudices. He, poor fellow, before death said,—
“I will not again return to Port Resolution, or see my dear Missi; but tell him that I die happy, for I love Jesus much, and am going to Jesus!”
Hearing these things, the Natives insolently demanded me to tell them the cause of this death, and of Mr. Mathieson’s trouble, and of the other deaths. Other reasoning or explanation being to them useless, I turned the tables, and demanded them to tell me why all this trouble and death had overtaken us in their land, and whether they themselves were not the cause of it all? Strange to say, this simple question turned the whole current of their speculations. They held meeting after meeting to discuss it for several days, and returned the message,—
“We do not blame you, and you must not blame us for causing these troubles and deaths; but we believe that a Bushman must have got hold of portion of something we had eaten, and must have thrown it to the great Evil Spirit in the volcano, thereby bringing all these troubles and curses.”
Another Chief vindicated himself and others thus:—“Karapanamun, the Auruman or great Evil Spirit of Tanna, whom we all fear and worship, is causing these troubles; for he knows that if we become worshippers of your Jehovah God, we cannot continue to fear him, or present him with the best of everything, as our forefathers have always done; he is angry at you and at us all.”
The fear of the deaths and troubles being ascribed to them silenced their talk against us for a season; but very little made them either friends or foes, as the next event will too painfully show.
Nowhat, an old Chief of the highest rank from Aneityum, who spoke Tannese and was much respected by the Natives all round the south side of Tanna, came on a visit to our island. After returning home, he became very ill and died in a few days. The deluded Tannese, hearing of his death, ascribed it to me and the Worship, and resolved to burn our house and property, and either murder the whole Mission party, or compel us to leave the island. Nowhat’s brother was sent from Aneityum to talk to the Tannese and conciliate them, but unfortunately he could not speak the language well; and the Aneityumese Teachers felt their lives to be at this time in such danger that they durst not accompany him as interpreters, while I on the other hand did not understand his language, nor he, mine. Within two days after landing, he had a severe attack of ague and fever; and, though the vessel he came in remained eight days, he was prostrated all the time, so that his well-intentioned visit did us much harm. The Tannese became furious. This was proof positive, that we were the cause of all their sickness and death. Inland and all along the weather side of the island, when far enough away from us, they said that the Natives were enjoying excellent health. Meeting after meeting was held; exciting speeches were delivered; and feasts were given, for which it was said that several women were sacrificed, cooked, and eaten,—such being the bonds by which they entered into covenant with each other for life or death.
On the morning of the following Sabbath, we heard what were said to be the dying shrieks of two woman-sacrifices; but we went not near,—we had no power to save them, and the savages only waited such a chance of sacrificing us too. Soon after, three women came running to the Mission House, and in tears implored us to try and protect them from being killed by their husbands. Alas, we could only plead for them, the Tannese and Aneityumese Teachers warning us that if we even pled we would be instantly murdered, as the men were raging mad with the thirst of blood. At another time, eight inland girls came running to us and sat in front of our house all day, saying they were afraid to go home, as the men were fighting with their women and killing them. At nightfall, however, the poor creatures withdrew, we knew not to what fate.