At length, on the 22nd of May 1873, he was appointed to command HMS Pearl, as commodore on the Australian station. He went out with the determination of doing his utmost for the advancement of science and for furthering the cause of humanity. In the duties he had undertaken he was engaged for nearly two years, during which, while cruising through various parts of the Western Pacific, he never failed when visiting islands inhabited by savage races to endeavour by every means in his power to establish with them a friendly intercourse. On the 12th of August he had landed at Carlisle Bay, on the island of Santa Cruz, accompanied by an interpreter, through whose means, according to his usual plan, he was engaged in communicating with the natives, when, after a conference with some who appeared to have no hostile intentions, as he was in the act of stepping into his boat, a savage, a few yards off, shot a poisoned arrow, which struck him in the side. The example thus set was followed by the other natives, and several of the British were wounded. The boats immediately returned to the ship, but, notwithstanding the efforts of the surgeons to counteract the effects of the poison, the commodore felt that death was approaching. His great anxiety during the following days of intense suffering was to impress the principles by which he had been guided on those serving under him. As he lay in his cabin and his last hours were passing, not a murmur escaped his lips. The only regret he expressed was that he had not strength enough to praise God sufficiently for all His mercies. “The day before his death, believing that he would not live out the night, he had all his officers summoned to his bedside,” writes his chaplain, “where, in lovely and loving words, he spoke of the truth and the infinite love of God, and the readiness he felt to go. He had a word for each—a word of love—as, at his request, each kissed him and said good-bye. He then caused himself to be carried on to the quarter-deck and placed on a bed there, the ship’s company being assembled to hear his last words to them. He earnestly desired that no revenge should be taken on the natives of Santa Cruz. In these last words to the men he spoke to this effect: ‘We cannot tell their reason, perhaps they had been injured by white people, but we cannot communicate with them, not knowing their language; perhaps some day, it may be twenty or thirty years hence, some good missionary, some Christian man, may go among them and find out why they did this.’ His heart was full of God’s love to himself. He spoke of this love, and exhorted all to love God, telling them how he had loved them all, even when having to punish them, seeing good in them to love. Many such words were spoken before he said good-bye, blessing them all in the name of God. He passed away in perfect peace at 5:30 p.m., on Friday the 20th of August 1875. Thus died, in the performance of his duty, as true and noble a sailor as any of the gallant officers who have graced our naval annals. The two young seamen, Smale and Rayner, who had been wounded at the same time as the commodore, died within a few hours of him.”
Chapter Nineteen.
The Abyssinian Expedition—1867.
Far to the south of Egypt, beyond Nubia, lies a little known and mysterious country now called Abyssinia, formerly a part of Ethiopia, the wonderful kingdom of the renowned Prester John and once of the Queen of Sheba.
Bounded on the north by the Eastern Soudan, on the east by a stretch of sterile, uninviting ground varying in width to the Red Sea from a dozen to at least two hundred miles, and a sort of “no man’s” land unless claimed in a measure by Egypt and in a kind by Italy in these latter days; adjacent in the south to the broad lands of the warlike Gallas tribes, and approached from the west by the barren Southern Soudan,—Abyssinia has from time immemorial been the arena of rebellions, of inter-tribal hostilities, of inroads by neighbouring tribes, of attacks by civilised powers. Least of all has the land produced signs of progress in the arts of peace. Its mountains, towering to heights of 8000, 10,000 and 13,000 feet, have been the hiding-places of cruel robbers, of deposed chiefs, of disappointed insurgents; and its valleys have rung with countless cries of dying men in hotly contested battles.
Abyssinia has throughout the ages been divided into provinces, although the greatest authority has been nominally centred in one royal personage, or Negus. In the fact of these divisions, or principalities, we have largely the secret of continual disturbance. Jealousy has been responsible for much. The three principal provinces are Amhara, Tigre, and Shoa; the first being in the centre, with Tigre in the north, and Shoa in the south. Gondar is the capital of Amhara, Adowa is the main town of Tigré, and Amkobar is the most important place in Shoa. The prince, or governor, of each province, is known as “Ras,” a term we often find in reference to Abyssinian matters.
In the seventh century of the Christian era, 200 years after the country had passed the zenith of its power and glory, the Mohammedans swept like a great avalanche upon Abyssinia, stifled but did not utterly destroy Christianity, which had been introduced in the middle of the fourth century of the era in which we live; and maintained such a strong influence, that for century after century the whole land was in darkness and ignorance; and though the Christian religion has remained, it is in a debased and corrupt form. Europe knew nothing of Abyssinia worth the name for ages. Then a princess of Judah, Judith, prosecuted designs upon poor Abyssinia, sought out the members of the reigning family, and would have caused each one to be slain. Fortunately, a young prince was carried off to a place of safety. Coming to maturity, he ruled in Shoa, while for nearly half a century Judith reigned in the north. In the year 1268 a.d. the true royalists were restored to power in the whole kingdom.
When the warrior-mariners of Portugal were searching for new empires in every sea and upon every continent, rumours reached them of a kingdom somewhere, at the head of which was Prester John. This was just prior to the dawn of the fifteenth century.