During the same period of privation, my Orphans suffered badly also. Once they came to me, saying, "Missi, we are very hungry."
I replied, "So am I, dear children, and we have no more white food till the Dayspring comes."
They continued, "Missi, you have two beautiful fig-trees. Will you let us take one feast of the young and tender leaves? We will not injure branch or fruit."
I answered, "Gladly, my children, take your fill!"
In a twinkling each child was perched upon a branch; and they feasted there happy as squirrels. Every night we prayed for the vessel, and in the morning our Orphan boys rushed to the coral rocks and eagerly scanned the sea for an answer. Day after day they returned with sad faces, saying, "Missi, Tavaka jimra!" (= No vessel yet).
But at gray dawn of a certain day we were awoke by the boys shouting from the shore and running for the Mission House with the cry,—"Tavaka oa! Tavaka oa!"(= The vessel, hurrah!)
We arose at once, and the boy exclaimed, "Missi, she is not our own vessel, but we think she carries her flag. She has three masts, and our Dayspring only two!"
I looked through my glass, and saw that they were discharging goods into the vessel's boats; and the children, when I told them that boxes and bags and casks were being sent on shore, shouted and danced with delight. As the first boat-load was discharged, the Orphans surrounded me, saying, "Missi, here is a cask that rattles like biscuits? Will you let us take it to the Mission House?"
I told them to do so if they could; and in a moment it was turned into the path, and the boys had it flying before them, some tumbling and hurting their knees, but up and at it again, and never pausing till it rolled up at the door of our Storehouse. On returning I found them all around it, and they said, "Missi, have you forgotten what you promised us?"
I said, "What did I promise you?"