In their flight, a large body of men, who had come eight or ten miles to assist in the murder and plunder, came slipping here and there from the bush and joined them fleeing too. Verily, “the wicked flee, when no man pursueth.” David’s experience and assurance came home to us, that evening, as very real:—“God is our refuge and our strength ... therefore we will not fear.” But, after the danger was all past, I had always a strange feeling of fear, more perhaps from the thought that I had been on the verge of Eternity and so near the great White Throne than from any slavish fear. During the crisis, I felt generally calm, and firm of soul, standing erect and with my whole weight on the promise, “Lo! I am with you alway.” Precious promise! How often I adore Jesus for it, and rejoice in it! Blessed be His name.
I, now accustomed to such scenes on Tanna, retired to rest and slept soundly; but my dear fellow-labourer, as I afterwards learned, could not sleep for one moment. His pallor and excitement continued next day, indeed for several days; and after that, though he was naturally lively and cheerful, I never saw him smile again. He told me next morning,—
“I can only keep saying to myself, Already on the verge of Eternity! How have I spent my time? What good have I done? What zeal for souls have I shown? Scarcely entered on the work of my life, and so near death! O my friend, I never realized what death means, till last night!” So saying, he covered his face with both hands, and left me to hide himself in his own room. For that morning, 1st January, 1861, the following entry was found in his Journal:—“To-day, with a heavy heart and a feeling of dread, I know not why, I set out on my accustomed wanderings amongst the sick. I hastened back to get the Teacher and carry Mr. Paton to the scene of distress. I carried a bucket of water in one hand and medicine in the other; and so we spent a portion of this day endeavouring to alleviate their sufferings, and our work had a happy effect also on the minds of others.” In another entry, on 22nd December he wrote:—“Measles are making fearful havoc amongst the poor Tannese. As we pass through the villages, mournful scenes meet the eye; young and old prostrated on the ground, showing all these painful symptoms which accompany loathsome and malignant diseases. In some villages few are left able to prepare food, or to carry drink to the suffering and dying. How pitiful to see the sufferers destitute of every comfort, attention, and remedy that would ameliorate their suffering or remove their disease! As I think of the tender manner in which we are nursed in sickness, the many remedies employed to give relief, with the comforts and attention bestowed upon us, my heart sickens, and I say, Oh my ingratitude and the ingratitude of Christian people! How little we value our Christian birth, education, and privileges, etc.”
Having, as above recorded, consecrated our lives anew to God on the first day of January, I was, up till the sixteenth of the month, accompanied by Mr. Johnston and sometimes also by Mrs. Johnston on my rounds in the villages amongst the sick, and they greatly helped me. But by an unhappy accident, I was laid aside when most sorely needed. When adzing a tree for house-building, I observed that Mahanan the war Chief’s brother had been keeping too near me and that he carried a tomahawk in his hand; and, in trying both to do my work and to keep an eye on him, I struck my ankle severely with the adze. He moved off quickly, saying,—“I did not do that,” but doubtless rejoicing at what had happened. The bone was badly hurt, and several of the blood-vessels cut. Dressing it as well as I could, and keeping it constantly soaked in cold water, I had to exercise the greatest care. In this condition amidst great sufferings, I was sometimes carried to the villages to administer medicine to the sick, and to plead and pray with the dying.
On such occasions, in this mode of transit even, the conversations that I had with dear Mr. Johnston were most solemn and greatly refreshing. He had, however, scarcely ever slept since the first of January, and during the night of the sixteenth he sent for my bottle of laudanum. Being severely attacked with ague and fever, I could not go to him, but sent the bottle, specifying the proper quantity for a dose, but that he quite understood already. He took a dose for himself, and gave one also to his wife, as she too suffered from sleeplessness. This he repeated three nights in succession, and both of them obtained a long, sound, and refreshing sleep. He came to my bedside, where I lay in the ague-fever, and said with great animation, amongst other things,—
“I have had such a blessed sleep, and feel so refreshed! What kindness in God to provide such remedies for suffering man!”
At mid-day his dear wife came to me crying,—
“Mr. Johnston has fallen asleep, so deep that I cannot awake him.”
My fever had reached the worst stage, but I struggled to my feet, got to his bedside, and found him in a state of coma, with his teeth fixed in tetanus. With great difficulty we succeeded in slightly rousing him; with a knife, spoon, and pieces of wood, we forced his teeth open, so as to administer an emetic with good effects, and also other needful medicines. For twelve hours, we had to keep him awake by repeated cold dash in his face, by ammonia, and by vigorously moving him about. He then began to speak freely; and next day he rose and walked about a little. For the two following days, he was sometimes better and sometimes worse; but we managed to keep him up till the morning of the 21st, when he again fell into a state of coma from which we failed to rouse him. At two o’clock in the afternoon, he fell asleep, another martyr for the testimony of Jesus in those dark and trying Isles, leaving his young wife in indescribable sorrow, which she strove to bear with Christian resignation. Having made his coffin and dug his grave, we two alone at sunset laid him to rest beside my own dear wife and child, close by the Mission House.
In Mrs. Johnston’s account, in a letter to friends regarding his death, she says:—