Mary Liddiard; Or, The Missionary's Daughter

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Most of these islands are clothed with a varied and rich vegetation. The climate of those at a distance from the equator is generally healthy, but that of others near the line, especially to the westward, is unhealthy in the extreme, so that even the natives of other islands of the same ocean cannot live on them throughout the year.

The eastern groups are inhabited by a brown skinned and generally handsome race, often not darker than Spaniards, and supposed to be descended from a common stock, as in general appearance and language there is a great resemblance.

The groups of the large islands to the westward on either side of the equator are peopled by a black and savage race, in many respects resembling the negroes of Africa, and sunk even still lower in barbarism. Such are the inhabitants of the Fijis, New Caledonia, and New Hebrides, the Solomon Islands, New Guinea, and others to the northward of them.

When Captain Cook sailed over the Pacific, and till many years afterwards, the people of these beautiful islands were sunk in the grossest idolatry and barbarism.

Towards the end of the last century, when the Christian Churches awoke to their responsibilities for making known the glad tidings of salvation to their heathen fellow-creatures—societies were formed to send missionaries to various parts of the world. A band of twenty-nine missionaries, some of them unhappily untried, were sent out by the London Missionary Society in 1796, to the Pacific islands. They made slow progress, but at length, in 1815, idolatry was overthrown at Tahiti, and the gospel firmly established in that island.

Two years afterwards, the Rev. J. Williams and the Rev. W. Ellis, two of the most distinguished missionaries who have laboured among the islands of the Pacific, arrived at Tahiti. The former took up his abode at Raiatea, one of the Society islands, and afterwards going alone to the island of Rarotonga, though not bred a shipwright, built there, with his own hands, aided only by the natives, a vessel of about seventy tons burden. Having rigged her with sails of matting, he and a native crew returned to Raiatea, and thence he proceeded to Samoa with a large party of missionaries, for the purpose of leaving them at different islands on the way. He sailed in her afterwards over many thousand miles of ocean, visiting missionary stations—the little craft truly performing her duty as the “Messenger of Peace.”

She was the first of many missionary vessels which have since been sent out by different societies to the Pacific. Some have been lost, but their places have been supplied by others; indeed it is only by means of such vessels that the now numerous missionary stations scattered throughout that wide ocean, can be properly maintained.

How well might some of the beautiful yachts which float idly on the waters of the Solent, be employed, if their owners, influenced by the love of immortal souls, would hoist the banner of peace at their mast-heads, and go forth to those distant islands, to sail here and there visiting the isolated stations, or conveying fresh missionaries to the numberless groups still in heathen darkness.

I cannot help saying this when I recollect how often, for long months, and even for years together, we were left without a visit from any European Christian, and how eagerly we watched the approach of each sail which appeared in the horizon, hoping that she might bring us news of distant friends, or necessaries of which we stood greatly in need, or still more, that a brother might be on board who might afford counsel and encouragement in the difficulties by which we were surrounded. My dear father often felt the want of the assistance I have spoken of. My mother was indeed a helpmate meet for him, and was a source of comfort and consolation; but especially when the heathens threatened our lives and those of the native converts, oh, how thankful he would have been for the advice and support of an experienced Christian friend.

My mother had for some time been a sufferer from illness, and though she still continued her usual duties, we watched her form grow thinner, and her cheek paler, day by day. My father, strange as it may seem, did not appear to remark the change, but Maud and I, when we were together, could not help speaking about it. Still, as my mother did not complain, we could only hope that, should her anxiety about the condition of the mission decrease by its prospects becoming more promising, her health would improve.