Bent casts his eyes on the deck, and does not answer. Golding looks at me. “I’ll tell you my opinion,” I reply. “If man alone had to accomplish the work, I would say, it is impossible. But man works not alone. God’s Holy Spirit is on his side. We are all by nature vile; we have all gone astray. All our natural hearts are of stone. God’s grace can alone soften our stony hearts, can alone bring us back to Himself, and as He surely is all-powerful, to my mind He can just as easily shed His grace on the hearts of these black heathen cannibals, and soften them, and bring them to love and worship Him, as He can work the same change in any white man; and so I see no reason to doubt that if the gospel is put before them some will hear it gladly and accept it.”
The captain, as I speak, begins to grow angry. Golding bursts into a fit of laughter.
“You’re talking Greek to me,” says he. “How could these black savages, who have never seen a book in their lives, understand the Bible, even if you gave it them? It’s hard enough for civilised white people to comprehend, eh, Captain Fuller! You find it a tough job? I’m sure I do.”
“As to that, I don’t pretend to much learning in that line—like my second mate here, but I always leave such matters to the parson.”
What the captain meant I cannot tell. On looking up, I see Bent’s eyes full of tears, and he says nothing. I do not press the subject now as it will only provoke hostility, but I resolve to speak privately to Bent whenever I can. Yes, I am sure, by God’s grace, and through the instrumentality of human ministers and His book, these dark heathens may become enlightened worshippers of Him.
We hear that there is a port at the great island of Vanua Levu, where sandal-wood is to be procured, and we accordingly forthwith sail there.
Truly it is dangerous work navigating these seas among coral banks in every direction, some just above water, others three, four, and fifteen feet below it. It is only when the sun is shining and the sea blue that we can distinguish the coral, which gives a green tinge to it, under water. One of us is always stationed aloft to pilot the ship. We have hitherto escaped. I pray we may, for if we were to wreck the good ship, these savages would spare the lives of none of us.
Once more we drop our anchor, and canoes come off to us. We make known that we have come for sandal-wood, and have axes, and knives, and nails, to give in exchange. The natives seem so ready to trade that Golding is quite enamoured of them, but the captain wisely will allow no one to go on shore. We keep a careful watch as before. The natives, however, seem very peaceable. They tell Taro that they wish to trade with us, and be our friends, and tempt us to come back again. The first mate, Tony Hinks, and others, declare that the captain’s regulations are too strict, and that they ought to be allowed to go on shore.
Two days pass by, and we are almost ready once more to sail. I am below talking with Bent and the doctor. Most of the men are forward at their dinner, the captain, and the first mate, and the watch only being on deck. There is a loud sound like a blow given on the deck, then a shout and a piercing shriek. Something is the matter. We seize cutlasses and pistols, and any weapons we can lay hands on, and spring on deck. Upwards of a dozen savages are collected there with heavy clubs in their hands uplifted, and our men are righting desperately with them, but almost overpowered.
