Old Scenes Viewed through New Glasses.
Bishop Wilson's Journal of His First Voyage in the Melanesian Islands, 1894.
From The Southern Cross Log, Auckland, 1895-1896.
[The Southern Cross Log, Vol. 1—No. 1, Auckland, May, 1895, pages 1-6.]
SEPTEMBER 10.—Started for the Islands. The "Southern Cross" reached Norfolk Island a week ago, but a strong gale from the west has kept us tied and bound here; to go on board in such weather being impossible. The delay gave me time to answer the mail the "Southern Cross" has brought. By writing constantly I managed to leave 34 letters to go by the next post—sometime, perhaps, within the next month. We take with us [1/2] eight married teachers, some of the bigger boys, George Sarawia, Henry Tagalad, besides Comins, Brittain, Forrest and myself; 57 passengers in all.
My first visit to those islands which so few have yet seen! I think of Bishop G. A. Selwyn making his first visit in the little schooner of twenty-two ton, the "Undine," in the year 1849; of Bishop Patteson's first visit in the first "Southern Cross," leaving Auckland on Ascension Day, 1856; and of the many voyages which have been made since by Bishop J. Selwyn and the Melanesian missionaries, going and coming in the "angel-guarded ship;" some going but never returning. Forty-five years have gone by since the "first shock of the earthquake" was felt in Melanesia. How do things stand now amongst these nations at the ends of the earth? What progress has been made since George Tiapo, the young chief of Nengone, was baptised and became the first fruits of the Melanesian Church, in 1852? Shall I be disappointed or agreeably surprised by the results of the forty-five years of work?
September 11.—A fair wind. Most of us very sick, though some few escaped. Had done 110 miles at noon.
September 12.—Recovering one and all. Travelled 120 miles between noon and noon. We get along slowly, considering the wind, which continues fair.
September 13.—Service on the upper deck, at 10 a.m. Nearly all the boys well enough to be present; women still shakey. Done 122 miles at noon. Walpole Island sighted. Wind fair but light. Took some time to pass the land. Very steep cliffs; thousands of sea-birds; no proper landing for boats. The island is, I suppose, the southernmost point of Melanesia. Here, then, the diocese begins, However, Walpole Island is uninhabited. A tale is told of six skeletons lying side by side on the beach, the remains, it is supposed, of escaped convicts from
September 14.—At 4 p.m. sighted Anaiteuni, the southernmost of the New Hebrides Islands. Christianity is being slowly but surely introduced to the New Hebrides by the Scottish Presbyterian Mission, of which Dr. Paton is the best known member. It was in these Islands and the Loyalty Group that our work began, Bishop G. A. Selwyn and Bishop Patteson making frequent visits, and carrying away boys to New Zealand. But in the other groups other Missionary Societies had been before us in the field, and so this ground was yielded up to the London Missionary Society and the Presbyterian Mission, and [2/3] the Church's mission travelled on to the "regions beyond." Nowadays we call nowhere in the Loyalties (which are now French), and we have but three islands—Whitsuntide, Leper, and Aurora—in the New Hebrides.
September 15.—Running along at a good pace. At noon had done 160 miles since noon yesterday—our best run. Erromango lay far away to the east, just visible. What a long way we are from our friends now! Yet I feel sure that this is the sort of life that Christ's disciples were intended to live until all the world owned Him. It should be the life of hundreds instead of ones and twos. The few do the work of the many, and are often allowed to suffer for want of help, and are not unfrequently regarded with scorn for their pains. "But we have never received a call to missionary work"—the many say. Surely by saying that, we either say that we have never known Christ, who said "Go ye into the world and. make disciples of all nations," or else, we confess that we have deliberately shut our ears to this particular command. Is it true that one quarter of the parishes in England make no subscription of men or money? I hope they subscribe their prayers towards the evangelisation of the heathen world. I wonder how many colonial parishes have similarly heard us call. Has Christianity generally been allowed to sink so flat that it has lost its most striking, its missionary note? Some religions have never been missionary. Christianity, as Christ preached it, was conspicuously so. If so many thousands of Christians have heard no call, it must be that we preachers have failed to preach the Faith aright. The Christian bell has not rung true; it has lost its ring; we have let it crack.
The boys are very bright and happy now. They play various sailor games, e.g., "Chalking the Monkey," raising basins of water over their heads without spilling the contents, etc. They sing, too, a great deal, the favourite secular tune just at present being "See-Saw," the words of the song being composed by themselves. We have Service twice a day—morning and evening. After evening, the boys sit by themselves in the after-schoolroom, and sing almost through the hymn-book. Wonderful memories they have for hymns, and wonderfully well, and with the greatest reverence and feeling, do they sing. To be for the first time in the midst of cannibal islands, with sea all round and the quiet stars above, to hear the song of the boys, the first fruits of the islands, and the bearers of the Gospel news to their friends still in darkness, as they sing of Him whom they have come to know; to see the Gospel ray piercing the heathen darkness first, as this song rings out into the gloom of the still [3/4] night; to know something of the light and joy of these boys' hearts as they go out as messengers of Christ, not counting their lives dear unto themselves; to remember that to me is given the task of leading these brave soldiers of the Cross—how strange and new all this is! How good to have seen this things, and to have been given a part in them!
September 16.—Sunday. In the midst of the New Hebrides, just off Tasico. The Melanesian Mission worked here once, but it is now Presbyterian. Head wind; with steam we are only moving at two knots. Mallicollo lies away to the west; Ambryon, with very high land, straight ahead; Paama with a much higher mountain, rather nearer and more to the east. We are within two miles of Tasico; it is my first near view of a Melanesian island, and I am told that this is a typical one. It is covered down to the water's edge with wood and scrub, and rises to perhaps 1500 feet in the interior. We now and then see traders' houses near the shore. A rough life these men must live, carrying their lives in their hands, and very often losing them. Smoke rises in different places as we move along; this is the recognised signal of natives to traders inviting them to call. A quiet day with Services—in Mota for the Melanesians, and in English for the crew.
September 17.—Dropped anchor at 6 a.m., off North end of Araga (Whitsuntide), one of our three islands in the New Hebrides, in ten fathoms. The water so clear that I could see the stones on the bottom, and great fish swimming about picking up the scraps which soon began to fall. The shore is wooded right down to the beach with palms, cocoanut, breadfruit, and other trees. Even the cliffs are covered with trees and foliage, so thick that they do not look like cliffs. Behind the beach the ground rises quickly to a high ridge, still covered with vegetation, except where cleared by burning to make gardens. Very hot; no wind; sea like glass. Araga was a dangerous place during the first years of Bishop Patteson's work. This part of it is now Christian. Eight teachers came on board, nicely dressed in clean shirts and blue trousers. The people who came with them were not overburdened with clothes, just a malo, or loin cloth, and at string round the neck carrying a white shell, and very often a clay pipe. They all seemed glad to see me. Poor souls! they had had much trouble; dysentery having broken out and carried away many, amongst others the chief. The latter's death in old days would have been the signal for general fighting. Even now some had talked a good deal about fighting, but had done nothing more. All who came on board seemed perfectly at home, sitting [4/5] solemnly on the hen coops, and anywhere else, looking so cool, with nothing on save the malo and the string and the pipe, and their woolly heads limed white. Having paid the teachers for their year's work in soap, medicine, cloth, axes, knives, and the coin of the Pacific realm—tobacco, we steamed along the coast to another village, where we put down my sick boy Tarilalau, in the last stage of consumption, and going home to die; also Cecil Livalalau, the chief whom I baptised at Norfolk Island, the day before we left there. I went ashore, thus putting foot for the first time on a South Sea Island. A few years ago these people were fierce cannibals; now, this village at any rate is Christian, possesses a school which is well-attended, is at peace in itself, and with its neighbours. A crowd met us on the beach. Such happy children of nature they looked, the men under one tree, and the women under another; and all very destitute of clothing. Swarms of jolly little boys came round us. One took my fancy particularly, a boy—in clothes—named Tom, who had been to Norfolk Island, had nearly died of dysentery, and had been brought back just alive. Some day he must come again. Whilst payment of teachers was going on, our boys bathed, at first in mortal terror of sharks, but very soon forgetting such unpleasant contingencies. Then two turtles came solemnly floating along, looking like great inverted basins. Soon they raised their heads to look about, espied us, gave a kick with their heels, and had gone.
Weighed anchor at 12.40, and steamed across to Opa (Leper Island). Sea calm as a Swiss lake, and surroundings like enough to remind me of one, although of no one in particular. At 3.30 reached Opa, having steamed fourteen miles in three hours, on a perfectly calm sea. O for more speed! How many places in Opa alone are never visited because we have no time to get to them? A large party met us on shore, and seemed really glad to see us. The chief and the teachers were introduced to me, and then, with Forrest and some of our boys, I walked up to the village. The path a good one, broad and well kept, not unlike a New Forest path at home, but through a much thicker bush. Most of the way it was pink with blossoms fallen from a flowering tree, and well shaded from the hot sun by enormous banyan trees. Extraordinarily shaped native pigs ran about almost wild, being kept out of the gardens by lightly built coral walls. Then I first saw a native village, and a native school and, church. So small and quiet, hidden away beneath the trees. Built of bamboo canes tied together, roofs of sago palm leaves. The church looked very plain, having seats, prayer desk, and a [5/6] little altar covered with red cloth, and raised upon a bamboo platform. It seemed dark, having no windows, but very cool. Rev. A. Brittain's house stands close by the church. It consists of one room, and contains just a table, a chair, and nothing more. What would not some give to escape from the "encumbrances of civilization", as completely as a Melanesian missionary does? A cocoanut tree was outside, and a boy of the village of his own accord walked up it, and threw down some nuts. How delightfully novel it all was? On a cliff near the sea the people have built Brittain a new house, most beautifully situated beneath the trees, and getting, I should think, a grand sea breeze. A trader named M——— met us on the beach. He lives among these Opa people, not loved by them because he kills their pigs when they trespass in his garden, but yet apparently satisfied, and "free," as he says, "from the trammels of society." Lately in his absence the bushmen raided his house, and carried off all his tins of meat and other stores. Rather awkward, as he does not expect to see a trading ship for a month. He is now free from some more trammels of civilization! Anchored at the watering-place at Maewo (Aurora) for the night.
(To be continued next month.)
[The Southern Cross Log, Vol. 1—No. 2, Auckland, June, 1895, pages 2-4.]
 [Last month the Bishop's Journal gave an account of the voyage in September through the New Hebrides—to Araga, Opa, and finally anchored at Maewo (Aurora). We must apologise for one or two errors, viz., p. 2; third line from foot of page, "the other groups," should be "these groups;" middle of page 3, "heard us call," should be "heard no call;" and last line, "darkness first, as" should be "darkness just as."]
SEPTEMBER 18.—At day-break we commenced watering the ship, filling the large sail-cloth bags in the magnificent stream which runs into the sea here, and rowing them to the ship. At nine o'clock, I started with Brittain and some of our party for Tanrig, a village lying in the bush about four miles away. One of the most beautiful walks I have ever had; under enormous banyan trees, through sweet little native gardens full of taro and yams, along a path which had been well mended for our benefit, as we had been expected for a month. Then a quiet little village, with a church rather more ornate than that at Opa; such a church as makes a visitor kneel for a moment and send up a prayer for all who minister in that place; one feels instinctively that God is there, and that prayers are heard. Then a pretty little single-roomed parsonage, in which six chief men from three neighbouring villages sat solemnly and listened to us, and watched us drink the tea and eat the yams that the kind villagers had brought us. Such a welcome, too, from all—men, women, and children! And all so primitive and Edenic, beneath the cocoanut, banana, and orange trees. I spoke to about 30 men in the school, telling them how happy it made me to see that God had given each peace, and that fighting was over for ever, and reminded them that they must seek the peace of God within as well as without. We had a prayer, and then I recollected that I had just spoken my first word for the Master on one of our islands, and therefore this place Tanrig (Maewo) was to be henceforth the special charge of Botley Parish, Hants, according to promise.
Then we walked back. All the village came with us, and a very picturesque sight indeed it was to see these children of nature in nature's garb, carrying large taro leaves to shelter them from sun and rain, filing down the face of that lovely waterfall to the sea. We found many teachers on board. They had come [2/3] from all parts; a nice looking lot, and from all accounts very whole-hearted in their work. The island is not entirely Christian yet, but the work is thorough where it exists.
September 19.—Before daybreak we started in the Southern Cross for Tasmate, some miles down the Maewo coast. Arrived at about seven, and went ashore with the communicant boys to take part in a service of Holy Communion with the people. We found the whole village waiting for us on the beach, all well clothed, the women in red jackets and petticoats, the men in shirts and trousers. Tasmate was evidently going to keep holiday in our honour. My first impressions, however, with regard to clothes for natives are against them, i.e., beyond what is necessary for decency. A civilization which enforces shirt, trousers, coat, and hat, spoils while it intends to improve. An islander cannot keep clothes clean, and his hat becomes battered, and the Europeanised native becomes a ruffian. With a red malo and a fuzzy head he is a picture, and moreover is healthy. We had a very happy service with these people in the school, and I trust we brought the blessing of the Gospel of Christ.
Steamed back against the wind to Opa, to a place called Tavolavola. A poor little dead-alive spot from a Christian point of view, although all our work in this island began here. A nice little church, school, and parsonage. Brittain is rather disheartened about the work here, the people having no stability, and heathen pressure from the bush seeming to stultify every effort. A short time ago the bushmen shot one of the two traders living here whilst in his bed. The other escaped because he happened to have a fit of coughing, and had gone down to the beach to cough it out. During his absence guns were run through the cane sides of the house, and the two beds were riddled with bullets. We put down Brittain, John Pantutun, and the small boy Bita, whom the police at Auckland gave to me. He was kidnapped hereby a trader some months ago. Poor little fellow! he is not very hopeful as to his reception. He goes back without his boy companion with whom he was stolen, and it is a question how his wild bush friends will receive him. Opa is a traders' island, and as a consequence our work moves slowly. In parts it is still very wild, and dangerous. The Christians number about 300.
September 20.—After a very quiet night run, under easy sail and with a good wind, we reached Merelava, or Star Island. It stands up a great conical extinct volcano, 3000 feet high, clad from top to bottom with trees. Here and there the bush is cleared away to form gardens. The wind tears round both sides [3/4] enough to root up everything planted on its steep sides, and giving very little lee to a vessel. A Fiji labour vessel was here before us, and had been waiting for some days. Her two boats, painted red, the regulation colour for recruiting ships, were at the landing place parleying with the natives. One of their hands was a Merelava man, and on reaching his home he had "bolted." Nothing would persuade him to ship again, and the vessel sailed without him. We put Sagler ashore to say good-bye to his friends before going to his work in Santa Cruz. He soon came off again with a boat half-full of yams which his people had given to him. Went ashore with Comins and paid teachers. Natives all very pleased to see us. The chief, Clement Marau's brother, was in disgrace. He had two wives, and with much show had pretended to put away one, getting some credit for his zeal. However, it was all pretence, and he had lied. This is my first near acquaintance with the polygamy difficulty. Met William Vaget, the deacon, in charge here. A nice quiet-looking man, with excellent influence, though not clever.
Reached Merig soon after noon. A tiny island; lofty; verdure-clad; rock-bound. It was too rough to land. The teacher's payment was therefore sent off in a boat to the rocks, and thrown out piece by piece across the surf. Twenty years ago there were sixteen people on the island, and they, says Captain Bongard, were at war with each other. Now, perhaps, numbers have increased. I counted seventeen through my glasses. George Sarawia says that Patteson never landed there, but the people wished him to. A returned labourer, supplied with cards and books by Bishop Selwyn, commenced work here in 1886. The people are now building themselves a church. Very sorry we could not get ashore. The island lies just about half-way between Gaua, the S.E. district of S. Maria and Merelava, and to canoes passing between these two islands it forms a convenient half-way house. There is a tragic story told of a great disaster which occurred two or three years ago, in which Merig played a part. A party of Gauans, nine women and three men, left their village to visit friends in Merelava. When well out to sea they were swamped, and were unable to right the canoe. All were good swimmers, so they struck out together for their destination. However, after swimming for some hours the women tired, and the three men found themselves by themselves. Two of them refused to go any further, and said they should go back to the women and die with them.
(To be continued next month.)
[The Southern Cross Log, Vol. 1—No. 3, Auckland, July, 1895, pages 2-5.]
 [So far the Journal has touched on the New Hebrides Islands, the Maewo Coast, Opa, Meralava, to Merig—and then the Bishop heard the story of the tragic fate of the Gauan party on a visit to Merelava—how the women of the swamped boat tired, and how two of the men refused to go without them; and, leaving the third man to get ashore and tell the tale, the two men went back to die with the women.]
JUST as they were parting, one took out his knife from its sheath and gave it to the third man as a dying gift, saying, "You will always see my face in it." Then the man swam on by himself. From noon one day till evening the next he swam. The currents carried him about in all directions. At three different times sharks followed him. One came up with a rush underneath him, and threw him right out of the water. At last he reached Merig, after 36 hours in the water. He told his tale, and search parties were sent out, but the Gauan women, and the other men who went back to die with them, were never seen again.
Ran into Port Patteson, Vanua Lava, at 5.30. A grand harbour, with great encircling reef keeping out all sea. We dropped anchor close to a rock, which still shows the white paint that Patteson put on it in old days as guide for anchorage. At this place George Sarawia, the first Melanesian deacon, was picked up in 1858. As we sat on the upper deck he told me of his terror that first night he was on board, when the Bishop called all together for prayers. He thought this was the preliminary to his despatch, and tried to escape. Well for us and for him he was caught.
September 21, S. Matthew's Day.—The day of Bishop Patteson's burial at sea in 1871. Sailed away at 5.30 for Motalava; the sun rising behind Mota on the right; Rowa and [2/3] Ureparapara showing up in the distance to the left; Motalava before us; Vanualava behind.
Reached Motalava at 8.15. Rev. T. C. Cullwick came off with a crew of teachers. He gave a good report of the improvement on shore, and promised me much work. Packed up my kit for a night's stay and went ashore; was caught on the way by a very fine specimen of tropical shower and was drenched; changed clothes, had some tea, and then visited the school at Ra. Put about forty children some questions from Bible and Catechism, and finally got all whom I asked to say the Collect for last Sunday, which they did without a mistake. Then we pulled across the lagoon to Ngaranigman, where the chief men from all the villages around were gathered together to speak words of welcome to me. They gave me a hearty reception, and spoke most kindly. Then we robed in the school, and moved on to the new church; a really fine building—the walls of sandstone, dug out of the beach; the mortar of lime, burnt out of the coral of the reef; the roof very lofty, of the usual sago thatch. We had prayers, and I spoke to the people in answer to their address through their chiefs. After the blessing we came out, and I took some photographs. All the people were full of good temper, and most hearty and friendly in the way they gathered round for a talk. Walter Woser is native deacon at this place; Henry Tagalad, the native priest, lives at Ra. These two move about round the island in their whaleboats visiting the schools. Tagalad's serious manner has given a serious religious tone to the whole community. They all look as if they "meant it."
Service for the consecration of the church began at 5.30. All the villagers in the neighbourhood took the greatest interest in the service. For five weeks they had been expecting it, and on four occasions, on news of an approaching ship, they had come together, swept the village, and made preparations. At last we had really come. Hundreds of stalwart and earnest natives had assembled; they stood in the space before the church door, completely filling it, the men on the left as we approached, the women on the right. With a small surpliced choir of men we marched round the outside of the church singing, and all the crowd joined the procession and followed us. With the usual sentences used on such occasions we entered the building, and then commenced one of the most striking services I was ever at. The great church was crammed full, and the utmost reverence prevailed. To me it seemed as if all the people with one consent had given themselves to the Lord. The old and chief men had taken the lead, and the young men, great strapping fellows, just at "the [3/4] difficult age," who but for the Mission would have been dangerous savages, had followed them. This service over I expected that many would go away. Cullwick and I sat out in the cool and drank tea, and the people sat too, and watched, and waited. At about 8—time is no object in Motalava, Cullwick has no watch and events begin when everything is ready—the confirmation began. Fifty-six candidates were presented, men and women only, many much advanced in years. The people were again very reverent, but seemed a little dazed by the novelty of their big church. The singing was hearty, but pitched too high. A harmonium would be a great help.
September 22.—Had a delightful swim in the lagoon, then went across to celebrate the Holy Eucharist in the new Church. All that could came to the Ante-Communion Service; 131 communicated. Cullwick, Tagalad, Woser, and myself administering. On coming out of church we heard that the "Southern Cross" was in sight. She had placed teacher at Mota yesterday, and passed the night at Port Patteson. Said "good-bye" to these most delightful people and set sail for Mota.
We took four hours to steam and beat the eight miles between Motalava and Mota. A delightful day, and a most enjoyable sail, but a great wear and tear for the vessel, which more steam power would obviate. A great crowd was at the landing-place to welcome us; sitting in the natural shady galleries which the action of the sea has made in the face of the rock. The native deacon, Robert Pantutun, came forward first and welcomed me, introducing me to a most intelligent-looking lot of teachers. It is wonderful how Norfolk Island education stamps all those who go through it. I find that I can nearly always tell an old Norfolk Island boy amongst a Christian crowd. And thirty years of work they have turned out a working staff to-day of nearly 400 who have become teachers, besides others. What a leaven for the islands!
It was here that in 1857 Bishop Selwyn did not consider it safe to land; now there is no better place in Christendom. I stood on the coral cliff and shook hands with hundreds, then we walked up the steep, well-made path to the village, the crowd following. Arrived at Kohimarama the people gathered round me on the green, and Pantutun made this little speech:—"Father, we wish to show you our hearts because you have come here to be Bishop over us; the teachers, the children, and everybody rejoice greatly about it, because we remained orphans, but now you are father over us again in the place of Bishop Selwyn."
 Presently the bell rang for Evensong, The Church is very small, and the eighty persons present filled it. George Sarawia read prayers, a teacher the lesson, and some one in the congregation led the singing. Afterwards we returned to Cullwick's home, a number of boys and men coming with us, no doubt to see me more closely and to listen to George's account of his experiences whilst away. Old W., the first on the island to say that the new doctrine was good, sat on the floor, another elderly man from the bush, preparing for Baptism, also sat and took in all he saw.
(To be continued next month.)
[The Southern Cross Log, Vol. 1—No. 4, Auckland, August, 1895, pages 2-10.]
 [So far the Journal has described the visit to New Hebrides, Opa, Merig, and Mota.]
SEPTEMBER 23.—My first Sunday ashore in the Islands. I celebrated in the little church for about eighty communicants—almost all men, the proportion about three to one. On coming out, a man who was with Bishop Patteson on the day of his death, and who himself received an arrow in his shoulder, came and told me in a quiet way all about it. Breakfast over, I called together the teachers who had gathered to meet me—about fourteen, and spoke then about their work, and concluded by referring to the Australasian Self-Denial Effort for Missions, which will commence on S. Andrew's Day. I also suggested a weekly offertory all the year round. At 11, Matins in the large school-house, just completed, a very fine building indeed, capable of holding 400 people easily. About that number were present, but the service was nothing like that at Motalava; there was no enthusiasm or heart in it; thee singing was of the feeblest description, and the responses poor. Cullwick is quite disheartened about Mota, and I feel there is something wrong somewhere. The people attend church badly, and the reasons seem to be—first, the Suqe, or village society is strong, and keeps men away for days and days, whilst they carry through its rites; secondly, that, of late, G. Sarawia has been away, and previous to that he had been lame and unable to get about the island. The people seem to have lost their first warmth; they are very friendly, and appear to be very happy, but they are evidently content with a very weak Christianity. I think the Mission is asking them for less self-denial, enterprise, and devotion than they are capable of giving, and they are now giving less than is asked for, as is usually the case. Did what I could to stir them up, and put before them the coming Self-denial Week more strongly than ever. At the evening service, George presented 22 candidates for confirmation, whom he said were in earnest.
Visited a gamal, or club-house of the Suqe, in the afternoon, A long narrow building with a door at each end. About ten divisions inside made merely by a step or a log laid across. Each room thus marked off belongs to a set of men who, by payment of pigs, etc., have advanced so far up the Suqe. No man may, on pain of heavy penalties, eat in another's room of higher rank [2/3] than himself; no one may drink water from a higher tap; no woman may enter the gamal. Every man joins it or becomes a solitary, and is nick-named "flying fox," or something else equally unpleasant. The Suqe is in many ways a useful institution. By it rank is given, money is circulated, and law and order are maintained. The gamal makes a guest house for strangers and a rendezvous for the villagers. The drawback to it lies in its initiatory rites. They are perfectly moral but tiresome. The candidate is shut up in the gamal for from ten to a hundred days, depending on his friends for his food, and remaining filthy and unwashed throughout. In all these Banks' Islands Suqes exist, but in most places the customs have been amended to make them entirely compatible with Christian duties. The Mission has hitherto been satisfied with such amendment, but there is a growing feeling, I hear, against Suqes altogether. The younger generation would be glad to see them stopped altogether, and I hear that men like H. Tagalad and Clement Marau are of the same opinion with them.
Steamed across to Koru, in S. Maria. Went ashore, and made the acquaintance of the people. "Bat" (of Bishop Patteson's life), George Sarawia's brother, is head teacher. He and his people lack energy. The district is building a church in this village, and the villagers themselves are accused of not doing their share. Cullwick spoke to them on the subject; they looked very dense, but when Melanesians look dense they are only most affirmative and acquiescent. We had a grand bathe in a pool close by, a nice, quiet, young teacher showing the way. On our return the Suqe difficulty came up again: John Qil, a head teacher, and an excellent fellow, came on board the "Southern Cross" and told us that one of the teachers had stayed in the Salagoro for a month, had suqed, and also gone on a fighting expedition. We struck him off our roll. We must not be cast down at such falls as this; my astonishment, and my admiration for those who stand increase, when I hear of such occasional failures. The temptation must be fearful: I feel that I have no conception how fearful. However, in this case, the first downward step was taken in the Salagoro, i.e., the club-house of the Tamate or secret society. The Tamate is not wrong in itself, but it took him away from Christian duties, and thence to a heathen fight. These S. Maria people are much too fond of bows and arrows. A point close by bears the name "Cock Sparrow Point," because Bishop Patteson never passed it without arrows being let fly at his boat. They do not do such things now-a-days, but among themselves a bow and arrow match passes as a pleasant pastime.
 September 25.—Left S. Maria at midnight, and steamed on a calm sea to Pek, Vanua Lava, some forty miles distant. On arrival, early in the morning, we put down a boat to pick up Sogovman and the other teachers. I went ashore to see the village, and found a clean and hearty people; if there was lack of life at S. Maria, there is no lack here. Sogovman has everything well in order; he was trained by Tagalad, and has caught his methodical ways and spiritual-mindedness. His village was a model of cleanliness, beautifully placed high up on the cliff, overlooking the sea. His church, built as usual of bamboos, was in excellent order; the chancel showed signs of having lately been raised; clean mats covered the floor, and a fine, new clam-shell font had been recently erected by the south door.
Steaming down the coast, we put teachers' goods ashore at Merig, and made for Rowa, a low-lying coral island about fourteen miles from Vanua Lava. An enormous reef runs out into the sea, preventing the "Southern Cross" approaching within three miles and a-half of the land; this distance we had to row, beneath a roasting sun, which seemed to come even hotter off the water than directly upon us. We rowed right up to the beach and got ashore, and the sun seemed to come even hotter off the sand than off the water. Forty people live here, and are taught by William Qasvaran. The island may be two miles long by one broad, but I doubt it. It is composed of coral, with a little sand on the top. A few trees grow, but for food the people depend on Vanua Lava, whence they fetch what they want in canoes. The ground swarms with ants, and the Rowans and their visitors, as they converse, keep up a sort of "mark time," brushing with one foot the ants off the other. What a place to live in! Yet the people looked healthy, well-clothed and clean. Here, too, the teacher is encouraging his people to build a church. I gave away a few hooks, and they gave me a nautilus shell and some cocoanuts. Poor souls! they had so few that I scarcely liked accepting them. But with all its apparent poverty, Rowa has something which gives it an importance of its own: it is one of the mints of these islands, manufacturing much shell-money, and circulating it in exchange for food. A stone, about two feet by one, was shown to me, on which shells are ground, and it showed signs of considerable pressure and labour. We were glad to get away, the heat being intense, the ants almost intolerable; they rule the day at Rowa, I hear that mosquitos govern the night.
At four o'clock we reached Ureparapara, or Bligh's Island, and a truly wonderful sight it is. Once a volcano, towering some three or four thousand feet high; now the ruin of one, [4/5] the east side having, on some fearful day, been blown right away, admitting the sea to its crater, and forming—where once was boiling lava—a land-locked and bottomless bay, two miles in length and a mile wide. We steamed in at the broken side, and found ourselves in a great amphitheatre, with mountains, closely vegetated, rising to two thousand feet all round us. One's first thought on entering such a place must be of that great event which happened there once; that awful catastrophe of which no one ever lived to tell the tale, which sent, almost certainly, a tidal wave to carry death and destruction to many a low-lying coral reef and atoll, but which happened no man knows when. Here we are, where once was a boiling sea of lava, quietly anchored in six fathoms of water. After dinner, I went ashore with Cullwick to try and settle another Salagoro difficulty. Four men, one of whom was baptised, had cut themselves off from the Church and school for a hundred days, in order to carry through the initiatory rite. On Cullwick's arrival they had tried to come out, but the heathen party expostulated, and were strong enough to make them go back and carry out the customs. We had now to settle the whole question, and we called all the village together for a discussion. The head men said the matter was over now, and they had made up their minds to do as Motalava did, and mend the Salagoro customs. We had prayers together, and I spoke to them, pointing out that when they were heathen the Salagoro had its virtues,—giving occupation, circulating money, and maintaining law and order to some extent; but when Christianity came they were called to something higher. They might keep so much of the old that was not bad, but if they kept so much that Christian duties were neglected, this was falling back from Christianity, and not good. If there was a danger of doing this, they must put it away altogether, on the principle of "if thine eye offend thee," etc. It might become a question of Salagoro or Christ—which should be kept? There could be no doubt. We decided to give them back their teacher, Simon Qalges, on the understanding that if evil occurred again they should choose between losing him altogether and the death of the Salagoro.
September 26.—Left the crater at 7; Motalava, Vanua Lava, and little Rowa all visible. Went ashore at Seba, on the outside of the crater; put teacher's goods ashore, and just reached the ship before a rain squall broke. We had to put down Cullwick at Vureas, Vanua Lava. This was retracing our footsteps, but it could not be helped, as he had to visit Ureparapara about the Salagoro, and now he wants to spend a fortnight in helping the Vureas people in getting up the framework of their new church.
 We arrived in the afternoon; ten canoes came off to us, and everyone seemed in high glee because of our visit. Old Ben Virsal, the teacher in charge, and his wife and son, came on board, besides many other teachers. I went ashore and saw the village and church. Made friends with a good many people, and gave away a few hooks to men and boys, many of the men had been to Queensland or Fiji, and spoke "English" with considerable pride. One man had returned only a fortnight before, and with his black wideawake hat, black coat, and blue cloth trousers made a great bid for glory. However, it struck me that these men who have been recruited, and so have seen the world, are not regarded by the stay-at-homes as at all superior; indeed, rather the reverse, for many of them left in disgrace, the labour traffic affording a convenient Cave of Adullam for people who are not wanted at home—but who would be "wanted" in a civilised community. A Queensland-built whaleboat lay on the beach, the property of a labourer. In this he had invested his three years' savings. It is seldom, I should think, that a labourer makes such good use of his savings. In Opa, one in his opulency gave a white trader thirteen sovereigns for a pig! We have picked up a letter for John Sara from his brother, who has foolishly just recruited as a labourer at Florida. He says he is having a bad time of it on board, and complains of the treatment. Poor fellow! he has evidently regretted the step he has taken.
A most marvellous sunset, the sun going down in fearful brilliancy, lighting up the wooded mountain above us with a limelight effect.
September 27.—No wind; steamed slowly down to Torres Island. Robin came off; he wished me to hold a confirmation at the island of Lo, but first of all to go to the next island (Tegua), and pick up some men and women whom he had baptised in August, that they might see the confirmation and other services. The Tegua people are mostly heathen, and seldom fail to have "pot shots" at labour vessels which come close enough. They did not regard us as such, but met us on the beach with great joy, and eight men and four women came on board. The four islands of the Torres lie very close together; yet, there being very few canoes, intercourse is rare, and the dialect very distinct. Arrived at Lo, I found that great preparations had been made to receive me. A little hut had been put up outside the village gate. Here I robed, and at the gate was met by Robin, with his choir and two chiefs. The latter came forward and gave me love-tokens—two knotted croton leaves, and made a small speech. This over, we went into the church close at hand, where [6/7] prayers for the new Bishop were followed by evensong and confirmation. There were forty-four candidates. I addressed them twice, the first time speaking to all on the words "Peace be unto this house," saying that so Christ had bidden His disciples commence their ministry in any place; moreover, our mission was to bring peace. We came not to buy land or to trade, but to give peace—peace between man and man, peace between land and land, peace between God and man through Jesus Christ.
I think that the Torres Island people are thoroughly in earnest; they seemed to me just in the heat of a first love. Those whom I confirmed were mostly husbands with their wives; strong men they were, who, no doubt, a few years ago thought as much about bows and spears as they now do about worship. They sold me quantities of their old weapons, although I hardly liked taking them, as they are their only currency. They gave me, moreover, as a love-token, a quantity of yams; this of their penury, because they have had a very bad year. Throughout my visit they treated me, and all with me, with the greatest warmth and affection.
The Suqe difficulty is here seen in a new light altogether. Robin argued that the Suqe, very powerful here, forbids men and women ever to eat together; therefore, there could be no communicants in the Torres. He therefore announced that he would baptise no one who refused to eat without regard to Suqe rules. The only course to be taken was this: as the men had, by eating their dinners, been called to position and power in the Suqe; as some two had eaten themselves so high that there remained no one but themselves in the village with whom they might eat—to a place of infinite superiority; that at the death of one of this select party, his skull was carefully washed in the sea, and allowed to take its place regularly at the festive board; as such "bloated aristocrats" as these would find some difficulty in eating with the common herd, to say nothing of eating with creatures so low as women, a new course had to be devised; as they had "eaten up" stage by stage, so they must "eat down." Accordingly, the two chiefs, Abraham and Simon, commenced a course of dinners, each night in a lower room, until they had passed through all the different stages which they had paid so much to surmount, and came out free men, and emancipated from the trammels of society, as the trader at Opa said. Every man at Lo has now "eaten down;" and they have magnificent
feasts all together, and family life seems about to begin.
Another instance of the reality of these people in religion is afforded by the two teachers, Wulenew and Ernest Tughur. Land [7/8] was wanted for a grave-yard; no one liked the idea of having his land turned into a burying-ground. Up to these days they had never buried their dead; they had laid the corpse upon a small platform in the centre of the village, and had filled the large hole through the cartilage of their noses with a sweet-smelling herb until time produced such changes that the offence had passed away; then the long bones were split, and turned into arrow heads, which served in time of war for weapons, and in days of peace for money. Who would now find land to be filled with dead bodies? The two teachers were equal to the occasion: they were brothers, and owned a garden together; this they freely gave, and presented me with a signed deed of gift, and I entered the gate to consecrate it. Besides this, I consecrated the new church, dedicating it to S. Aidan; it is a remarkably fine building, due chiefly to R. Pantutun, the native deacon.
The people whom we fetched from Tegua were the first-fruits of the Church of that island. Three years ago they had decided that they would never receive the new teaching. However, a returned Queensland labourer began to teach them to pray. He only spoke in pigeon English, which they certainly could not understand; he himself did not seem to be able to pray in his own tongue. He had a set of phrases he had learned and he used them; but this was enough to awaken the curiosity of his countrymen, and they sent a message to Robin to ask for more. After a time the chief people were baptised, and now the rest are likely to follow their example. Matthew, a chief well known for years to the traders as "Abraham," is now exceedingly proud of his real Christian name. He was with us for some time on board, as happy as a child, with a pig's tail in his hair (the symbol of position in the Suqe), blue necklace, much white money, blue beads on his arm, blue wristbands, a red malo, and white anklebands; he looked a fine old fellow—and is one, I expect.
The conversion of Hiu, the third of these islands, seems likely to come about soon. Robin has been there two or three times. Soon after his first visit a sickness broke out, and it was attributed to him; the people decided forthwith that if he came again they would "go for" him. But a year went by, and they changed their minds, and sent messengers, asking him to go to them once more. The envoys approached trembling, and made their request. "But," said R., "you meant to kill me if I came?" "Yes," they said, "but that is all changed now." Accordingly; R. went, and was drenched by a shower in crossing; no one met him on his arrival, no one was in the village, and he had to wait patiently till the villagers returned. As night came on, they [8/9] brought a little food, and soon left the visitor, to talk to one another or to sleep, as they should choose. Next morning a few presents were given, and the party left again, having apparently accomplished nothing. This, they tell me, is a by no means uncommon line for a first visit to take.
On Bukabuka, or Toga, the fourth and last island, we have two sites for schools; but all the people are heathen, and nothing more than a footing has been gained.
September 29.—S. Michael and All Angels'.—With many thoughts of the supernatural angelic aid which the Church of Christ may expect, I find myself in Santa Cruz waters on S. Michael and All Angels' Day. It is here that the Mission has had the greatest difficulties and suffered the greatest losses. For nine years Bishop Patteson tried to land on Santa Cruz. In 1862 he succeeded, but never again. In 1864, in making the attempt at Graciosa Bay, his two young helpers, Edwin Nobbs and Fisher Young, were killed, a blow from which it is said the Bishop never recovered. In 1871, he himself, with the Rev. J. Atkin and Stephen Taroniaro, were killed at the neighbouring Nukapu. Add to these the death of Commodore Goodenough, the friend of the Mission, a few years later, and we have a complete list of our losses: five of our staff and one friend and supporter.
A. E. C. Forrest, a layman, has now been holding this fort for eight years, standing alone, protected through many dangers. He is now leaving, and I have no man to take his place: truly, we need supernatural aid. Vanikoro, a large cannibal island, lies ten miles away to the east just at this moment. Here, many years ago, the French voyager, La Perouse, met his fate with all his ships. Patteson landed here, and found remains of a cannibal feast, and nothing has been done since.
Utupua lies between Vanikoro and Santa Cruz. A reef without a known entrance surrounds it, and a very fierce race live on it, said to be still thirsting to avenge the murders of a white trader who once roamed these seas. Forrest has been there with some Cruzians, but he says he was in danger all the time: Utupua's day has not yet come.
Then we shall come to the Santa Cruz mainland, where we now have three schools—Nelua, Taape, and Te Motu. Forty miles away, to the north, lie crowded together reef islands, some
ready for us—e.g., Nupani and Nalago; some with schools already—e.g., Nukapu and Prleni; some crying out for teachers—e.g., Matena; some not so hopeful—e.g., Feneloa and Lomlom, connected with the Te Motu people, and possibly to be evangelised from there. Away to the north-east, and sixty miles distant, lies [9/10] the Duff (or Wilson) Group, in charge of which a black clergyman might at any time be placed, and he would make, F. says good headway. These speak the same language as Nukapu and many of the reef islands. I look forward to a day when we shall be able to put a clergyman at Disappointment Island, another at Lomlom, where there is food, a rare commodity on the fish-eating reef islands; and a third, a first-rate man, on Santa Cruz itself, with a college of Santa Cruzians under his charge. The chief of Pileni has married a Vanikorian, so Vanikoro can be attacked from Pileni: Utupua must wait. These are my views after a talk with Forrest over a chart of the Santa Cruz seas. Truly, we need the help of God, and of His ministering spirits, and the Church of Christ lives by the achievement of that which is impossible with men.
Reached Nelua Bay at 10.30 p.m., and put Forrest and all his goods ashore. He was received with wild cheers and whoops; presently he returned, bringing with him some o£ his teacher friends. Such magnificent fellows! rather yellowed, very naked, yet beautifully dressed so far as clothes went; immense chests and limbs, bunches of tortoiseshell carvings, shell breastplates, eight inches across; and terrible great nose-rings and anklets. These gave us good news of Ivelua, but bad of Nelua; but possibly in this case, as often, "self-praise is no recommendation." We left Forrest to settle by himself, promising to return (D.V.) on All Saints' Day for the consecration of his church.
(To be continued next month.)
[The Southern Cross Log, Vol. 1—No. 5, Auckland, September, 1895, pages 1-6.]
 SEPTEMBER 30TH (19th Sunday after Trinity).—Left Santa Cruz at 6.15. The Cruzians knew it was Sunday, and that there was no chance of trade, and so, although it had been light for an hour, none had come off to us. Made sail and spent the day at sea, moving at times five knots, but generally less. A quiet day of rest. I took the English services with the crew at 9 a.m. and 7 p.m., preaching at the latter on Eph. i., 9-10, pointing out that it was God's will to draw all men together in Christ; that Christ had worked for this in His incarnation, death, and resurrection; and every man in the ship must work for the same.
October 1—Still no wind. What has happened to the trades? All night we did but a knot and a-half an hour, and the sail over my head flapped heavily from time to time, giving me bad dreams of rocks and reefs. Slow progress all day. We are heading for Ulawa. Comins tells me that the first adults baptized there were two murderers. They belonged to the village of Matoa, which was then heathen, but had Clement Marau in it teaching, without much visible result. Matoa was always at war with Suholu, a village eight miles off. A sham peace had been made, and the old chief of Suholu came across the island with his wife to get a sight of Clement. Whilst at Matoa Masiro's father and another man killed him. A price was set on their heads by the outraged party, and they feared to go out of the village. To pass the time, they used to sit in the school, and listen to Clement as he taught the children. The simple teaching took root, and they professed great sorrow for the murder. They were baptised, and not long afterwards helped Clement to save the lives of some Cruzians, who had been blown away from their island (250 miles off), and would certainly have been killed by the Ulawans.
A new difficulty is showing itself in Ulawa. Heathen custom ordains that the gardens shall be cultivated by the women. Family arrangements are thus: the man during the day takes [1/2] care of the house and children, and fishes, and fights; the woman grows the food for the family—early she walks off to her work and late she returns. She comes back cross, perhaps, and tired after a three or four mile' trudge. She must feed the baby, and subdue the noise and spirits of the children. As a consequence the mother is not a sunbeam in the home, and the children often enough only dislike and fear her, and cling to the more comfortably-disposed and good-natured father. But, by native law, children belong to the mother, and to her tribe. The father is no relation to them in the eyes of the law, yet he is the parent whom they love. Filial affection in such a case is impossible, and the Fifth Commandment almost impossible to understand. The first effect of the entrance of Christianity is to enhance the difficulty, for so long as the place is heathen the number of children in the family is curtailed by a regular system of infanticide. If the woman must work she will not be bothered with a long family. The man has no particular wish for one either, as the more there are the more his leisure will be broken, and the more months there will be to eat his supply of food. Children are therefore killed soon after birth, by the old women of the village, and if afterwards any are wanted to help on the gardens, they are easily bought from a bush village hard by. Christianity forbids this rough-and-ready way of regulating the length of families, which, by the way, must be one cause of the depopulation of these islands; and families are lengthening in a way which must end in upsetting the social system. The men are already beginning to do the hard, manual field work, and the women are staying at home with the little ones.
Clement Marau must be a very fine fellow. He is a native of Merelava, but left his island many years ago to work with his friend, Walter Waaro in Ulawa. For three years he made not one convert; now his village Matoa is Christian, and more than half the people on the island also. He must have had some hard times. His saying, "Above all things, never think of yourself," might have come out of the "Imitatio."
October 2—Steamed all night, and had a fair wind. Sighted Ulawa at about 8 a.m. Went ashore at Suholu, on the windward side of the island. It was evident at first sight that we were now at the forefront of the fight. It is a school village, but the school is small, and the heathen are many. Young teachers have held the place, and must continue to do so for some time. We picked up Johnson Telegsem, Songali, and a young "savage" named Mere; the first two in clothes, but absolutely black teeth, and red betel-nut juice frothing in their mouths; the third a fine [2/3] young stripling, with white leaves in his hair, a string of white shells across his forehead, a minute loin-cloth, anklets, wristlets, and earrings; he is a good boy, and helps in the school, teaching the beginners their letters. We put down young Awao and Mark Leoha here to take Johnson's place. I felt sad at having to leave two such smart boys amid such a naked crowd, and yet glad indeed to have them to leave there. Johnson gives us very good news. Moota, which is half a mile from Suholu, and once was exceedingly hostile, is now friendly. The people there say that the school has done them good—although none of them have ever been to it,—and they ask Johnson to go and see them, frequently. All the heathen round are saying that the school is bringing good upon the Island, and they would, it is likely, welcome teachers. But at present they are a wild-looking lot. Bought a great many combs, spears, floats, nose and ear rings, lime-pots, arrows, etc. Did not feel at all satisfied in doing only this. Yet they were all mad for hooks and other "trade," no ship having visited them for a long time. It seemed that all I could do was to make friends. I gave the chief a malo, which his wife ran down and seized at once. I gave the boys a lot of hooks.
We steamed past the school-village of Marata, not having time to make a landing. A few canoes came off to us, light, well-built, and fast, but we could not stay to trade with them, as we were making straight for Matoa, Clement Marau's village. The landing there was not easy, deep water washing a very sharp wall of coral rocks. A sort of ladder is run down for seafarers to land by, but a strong suspicion of large sharks lurking beneath it does not assist the jump. Clement met us, and it was a real pleasure to see him. Nothing but God's grace could have turned a Melanesian into such a man as he is. Quiet, refined, well-dressed, with goodness, purity, and truth stamped on his face. Gilbert, the first convert of Ulawa, was with him—a most intelligent young teacher he is nowadays. Arthur, the young chief of Ugi, who is now helping Clement, was there, too; and many more men of high stamp. W——-'s criticism of the work of the Mission, to the effect that it only succeeded in picking up slaves for training, could not have been more unjust. In itself it is untrue, because slaves, as such, do not appear to exist in the island. The nearest approach that I saw to it was in the case of a young Cruzian, who, having been blown away from his home, was saved by Clement from a castaway's usual fate, death. This man seems to be more or less of a drudge in the village, although he is married and settled down. We walked to the village, and I was much struck by its size. Formerly it was a small place, [3/4] with—I suppose, like other villages—a population of about 100, but Clement's popularity and the peace Christianity gives has increased it to two or three times its old size, and now it is the largest village I have yet seen in the Islands. The church is small, and at the service it was crammed full. Clement's house is a marvel of art. His first home was burnt down, and his people at once built him another, and painted it marvellously. As we walked about I was introduced to many men of importance. Here was old A., the chief, who goes regularly to school, but cannot be baptised because he has two wives, one of whom has borne his children, and the other digs his garden, and he cannot decide which of the two is the least important. Poor old fellow! He is always friendly, they say, except when converts are being baptised, and then he rages! Here was old B., the village rainmaker in days gone by. At that time he made a fortune by sorcery and witchcraft. He opposed the new teaching and Clement with heart and soul, but his children and grandchildren could not be kept away from the school. His wife became ill, and seemed likely to die. He sent for Comins, and told him that he could not bear the idea of his children going to one place after death, and his wife going to another; he should, therefore, send her to the school whilst she lived, that she might receive the teaching. The wish was refused, unless he came also himself. After a week's. struggle, he parted with all his charms and incantations to a young friend,—they were too valuable to lose, and the peace of a night was broken whilst the two men sat together, and one taught the other the peculiar words in their peculiar order, which would bring rain or sunshine, calm or storm, health or sickness, death or life—and this done, the ex-rainmaker came to school. He was led by Gilbert, in the sight of all, to a seat. When the first lesson was over, he questioned Clement acutely upon the subject of it. He worked so hard, and was so intelligent, that after two months' teaching he was admitted to prayers, and he is now an earnest Christian. There are only three heathen now in this large village, and, outside, the heathen are saying that the school is doing them good. It seems likely that a great upheaval will take place soon amongst them. One point much in our favour is this: There are no harbours, and so there are no traders, with their miserable story about death and sickness following in the wake of missionaries and men-o'-war.
October 3.—We left Ulawa at 8 p.m., and steamed slowly across to Ugi, an island off S. Cristoval. This is a coaling station, and we expected to find a man-of-war here. We were [4/5] not disappointed, for both the "Ringdove" (Capt. Brewer) and the "Penguin" (Capt. Balfour) were lying at anchor. Delighted to find Sir J. B. Thurston, the Governor of Fiji, on the "Ringdove," as we had expected. He had been waiting about for us for some time. Went ashore early, in search of a bathing place. Saw poor Fred Howard's house and grave, and brought away a few hibiscus flowers from it. He was a young trader, placed in charge here by another, a Mr. S———. Fred was kind to the natives, allowing men from Malayta and elsewhere to make copra out of his cocoanuts, and buying it as though it were their own. They would come in parties of forty at a time, and always seemed friendly. However, one day a party from Luke Masara's village in Malayta came down on him and murdered him as he bought their copra, burying him before his own front door. The reason appears to be that many Malayta men had been killed in New Georgia whilst working for the traders, and this murder seemed the only way of revenge. By Fred Howard's death the mission has lost a friend whom all respected. A rough life these island traders have of it. Their lives are generally in danger; if they deal unfairly, they are always so. Howard's successor is a man of determined will, and a dead shot with the rifle; he is consequently much feared.
Went on board the "Ringdove," and made Sir J. B. Thurston's acquaintance. He lunched with us on our own ship, and we had a talk about the Islands in days gone by and now.
October 4.—Came across to Haani, in S. Cristoval, in early morning. Went ashore at 7. A peaceable, rather uninteresting people, with a not altogether satisfactory head teacher. The junior teachers also are weak, and it is wonderful that the Church holds her own here at all. We seem to just hold on, and no more. The school roof has been repaired, and the building looked strong and clean. There is but this one house to serve as both school and church, but, perhaps, with poor teachers it is best so. They had not said prayers when we arrived, so I had an opportunity of seeing their behaviour. The bell rung, and the women first went in (and indeed, "ladies first" is the rule in Haani, and it is the first place I have visited in Melanesia where it is so). All knelt reverently, and really seemed to pray. A few hearers were allowed to be present, but not to kneel. They sang nicely, and seemed to be real, so far as they went; but they are not a fine race, and the women smoke, and chew betel-nut, and have the lowest possible conception of morality. Everyone eats lime here. The lime-pots are carried under the arm, and the lime is conveyed on [5/6] a little stick, by a wonderfully regular action from the pot to the back teeth. The children's hair is generally shaved off close, except for five tufts as on a poodle's back. One little fellow became my particular friend: gave him some hooks, and a blue-bead necklace: He is Comins' boy: Comins saved him from the old women the day he was born, and he was with much merriment presented to the rescuer. Some day he must come to us.
The chief industry here is raising miserably lean dogs for their teeth's sake. A dog need not be fat to grow good teeth, and dog's teeth is the money of the Solomons. When the poor creatures reach the right age, the eye-teeth are knocked out, and are at once current coin. A small split in them, or discolourment, makes them spurious, and only to be passed off upon the blind and unwary. Here they are only worth a penny each, but in Florida they are worth sixpence. Our boys from Florida make a point of laying in large stores whilst here, and make a substantial profit laying by them at home. There are only thirty Christians in this village, and, until we can strengthen the teaching staff, I fear there will be no increase. Two chiefs divide the power; they met me, each arrayed in a battered billicock hat, their only insignia of royalty. Great things might be done here, but a white missionary is required, to live on the island. The S. Cristoval church is only marking time.
(To be continued next month.)
[The Southern Cross Log, Vol. 1—No. 8, Auckland, December, 1895, pages 1-6.]
OCTOBER 4TH.—Reached Wango, in S. Cristoval, at 9.30, and went ashore. Met Maurice Oha, Peter, and other teachers. Peter was once a very bright fellow, but Comins thinks that some sin committed in days gone by weighs him down. The school seems to have a wonderful hold here; an old chief, Peter baptized a few years ago, being very faithful. This man made me a present of a very fine war club, which Take, the big chief of the district showed, with appropriate actions and gestures, the use of. I sat for a long time on the beach with old Take, who is quite the white man's friend now-a-days, and he talked in broken. English about the people belonging to him, and about the numbers he had killed in old days, and the number he had saved lately, "because," said he, "Take a very good man; you all the same along o' me." He is still a heathen, and Comins thinks he has all along tolerated the school because of the visits it brings him from white men. He is in particularly good odour with the naval officers who visit the Solomons, being of great use in giving them the kind of information that they require.
We had a splendid bathe in a river which occasionally harbours crocodiles; but the natives never fail to know if there are any about. Pigeons and queer barking birds abound in the bush; orange trees grow quite rank, bearing little fruit for want of trimming. A white man here would do wonders.
The third village we touched at to-day was Heuru. Two schools will have to go unvisited. From Heuru, in old days, Take used to get desperadoes to do his killing when his own people declined. Bongard says that Dr. Codrington once nearly fell into their clutches. An old man, terribly dressed up—tall, white felt hat and Christy minstrel red and white check coat—came off in a little canoe to meet us. This man, Dodomani by name, has his story. He was, a few years ago, at Wango, expostulating with Take for allowing a school. To clinch his [1/2] arguments, he jumped up and ran along the beach to burn down the school-house. He had gone but a few yards when he fell fainting. All the people regarded it as a judgment on him, and the old man dared do no more, and has since become a Christian. A large crowd met us on the beach. At Wango we had heard they all here were in a fervour about schooling, and by their reception of us, and the enlarged school and general friendliness, I can easily believe it. The trader who calls has done his best to spoil them, telling them that the school is sure to bring disaster upon them. They don't believe it yet, and by buying everything they brought, and giving books, necklaces, etc., I did my best to prevent their believing the trader's tales. Except for this man we are the only callers here. The women are well dressed, but the men are almost naked. The old chief, Bo, met us, dressed in a marine's coat, which he filled very comfortably. He was extremely friendly, and finally insisted upon travelling with us. We agreed to take him a cruise if he would bring a friend too, to witness that we had treated him well if anything should happen to him. Accordingly, we had Bo and a young courtier to the chief on board; the latter was the best looking native I have seen. With his beautiful face, good figure, and natural grace, he was for all the world a Romeo, but, I suppose, for his glossy brown skin. Only ten people in the village still hold aloof from school, and one of these I believe it was who walked, naked as he was born, save for a string, with his arm round my neck and mine round his, along the water side to our boat. I told him we were friends, and he gave me three mangoes from his bag to prove it.
What changes are being wrought here in S. Cristoval! It is a regular cannibal island. Captain Bongard has seen canoes purveying human flesh up and down the coast. Infanticide has been so much the rule that young children are a rarity. Only ten years ago Comins saved the life of a teacher's child, which the old women were going to take because it had come into the world in a way which they considered unlucky. The grossest immorality is the rule of the island, and perhaps because of this the women scarcely ever bear children. Of eight young couples Comins baptized a few years ago only one had a child. The children we saw at Heuru to-day had nearly all been bought or stolen from the bush people. But the tide is on the turn at last, and families are springing up in these Christian villages.
October 5:—"We are members of His body, of His flesh, and of His bones." This was my text this morning to carry with me on my first visit to Saa, in Malanta. It was a suitable [2/3] one, for here we are at the end of the earth, and it was well to remember that the little church here was of the one Body, and was filled by the one Spirit, and was loved by the one Lord.
At Ulawa we had heard that the heathen were fighting against Saa, and that two women had been killed. Malanta has always had a bad name, more vessels having been "cut out" here than anywhere else in Melanesia. Saa itself has a history which will long be remembered in days to come, when Malanta will have fallen to Christ. It has been in a state of siege now for years, the heathen ever being on the look out to cut off stragglers. Two years ago, Comins stayed a week there, and baptized thirty-eight persons whilst the heathen lurked in the bush all round waiting for a shot. Two days after he had gone they broke in and killed Ipo's father, and wounded his mother badly. Joe Wate has had a price on his head for a long time, but belonging to chiefly family he has been respected so far. We went ashore at 7 a.m. A number of naked heathen met us on the beach, and were well pleased with some hooks, lines, and tobacco. The school people were all at prayers, and so did not meet us; we waited, therefore, with the heathen until slowly the malo-clad school folks came down to give us welcome. We went with them to the village, about half a mile off. Wate was down with a bad sore—a very common complaint; Dora, the teacher at the next village, had fallen. The place was still besieged, and the people were getting terribly downhearted, and they have much cause to be. Some attack them out of malice, some out of envy, and some out of desire for revenge, for one of them helped Captain ——— to find poor Fred. Howard's murderers. The village is prettily situated, and might be both happy and prosperous but for the villainy of its neighbours. No man's life is safe here, or in the neighbourhood. Comins was once at Saa when a great heathen feast was held on the beach where we landed. Hundreds were present from all parts, all armed to the teeth, and, although the party went on all right, yet none dared to sleep for fear of his neighbour. They sang the night through, because singing kept them awake, and to sleep was death. Bishop Selwyn and Comins once landed here, and found the old chief and heathen sitting glumly by the canoe-house. Not a teacher came near them; they were all on the other side of the island it was said. Things looked queer. Were the teachers killed? Things turned out not so badly as was expected. The school was suffering from a curse. The chief's child had died and he had laid his heaviest curse on the school, the supposed cause of it, and none dare go there. A few presents thawed him, and all was well.
 We got away from Saa at 9.30, and very soon passed a large canoe, with sail up, and with about ten bloodthirsty-looking, painted fellows on board. They called out for tobacco, but a Port Adam boy on our ship said that they came from the north, and their real object was to kill men. If they see a good opportunity they will take it at once, otherwise they will visit a village and make friends, and wait for a chance.
We steamed along the coast for nine miles and came to Port Adam, a fine harbour, but with difficult interlacing reefs. Very soon about fifteen canoes were round us, with men and women wishing to sell and buy, and see old friends. The men were naked. Joe Wate says that it has now gone forth in Malanta that people may wear malos if they like, but those who do will be treated as pigs and not as men. We soon had about twenty big fellows in a state of nature on board, besides the school people. There was the chief teacher, John Oiu, with such a solemn and beautiful face—and well may he look solemn. Only a fortnight ago, Fakaia, his young chief, who once followed Comins about, and called himself his son end tried to go as a stowaway to Norfolk Island, killed a chief's son who had come to pay a friendly visit to the school. The only reason for the murder was that there had been a long-standing feud between this young chief's father and the people of Port Adam. Harry Samo and Stephen are the other two teachers. There is no school going on, because the heathen have broken it up. Luke Masaraa taught here once and was fired at four times; Johnson Telegsem was his helper. However, school or no school, the boys hold on. Their pluck must be wonderful. It was Oiu and Samo who brought Johnson down here. No one had an idea that he had thoughts of missionary work; however, in a roundabout way it came back to the head of the mission that he had said that he did not wish to teach at home, but in the land of Oiu and Samo. Fakaia came on board too, and Comins gave him a talking to. He was very shamefaced, and said in a parable, "This is meat which we do not often eat," meaning that man-killing was not a common matter with him. He is a young fellow with an enormous nose-ring, and a large-tailed comb in his hair: not a bad face at all, and might become a Christian some day. An enormous savage, his father's executioner, rowed in a canoe by himself. Comins once had the extraordinary experience of being pinched and felt by this cannibal whilst he was bathing. He had the presence of mind to give him his soap, and told him the way to use it. He and his friends were [4/5] so amused, and filled their eyes so full of it that Comins was able to walk out quietly and unobserved. This was in Ulawa in days gone by.
Oiu told us of a school, started and carried on by a returned labourer from Fiji, somewhere at the head of the harbour. He had fought very shy of it, because the teacher had not been to Norfolk Island, and did not use the Prayer Book; he spoke also of a Spirit which taught him, although he had not been to Norfolk Island. We told Oiu to make friends with him and help. I cannot see how we are to get at Malanta except through Queensland and Fiji; yet as a rule returned labourers from these places are of no use to us. This man at Port Adam is quite an exception; perhaps he is the first of a new order. No white man could live safely in Malanta for six months. Marauding expeditions travel along the whole length of the coast, some 120 miles; on the look out for heads. If a new house is built a head must be offered. If a canoe is launched there must be a head taken. If a curse is to be removed it can only be done by a head. "Yet," say many, "leave them alone in their happy ignorance!" Queer-looking faces they have—some jet black, some light orange. A straight piece of shell, bound with blue string, is put through the nose, whilst a shell ornament, like a bird's neck, is stuck into the tip, and beads adorn the nostrils. The lobes of the ears are slit, and in them, for lack of better pockets, they carry all their smaller portable possessions, tobacco, etc., wrapped up carefully in a small piece of rag. Great white armlets (alas! made very often in Birmingham) adorn their arms, and these they seldom part with. A half moon-shaped shell of mother-of-pearl hangs on their cheek or necks, and the smallest loin cloth, or piece of red string, satisfies all notions of decency.
We went ashore at Paloto, a village between Saa and Port Adam, putting down some Saa people, and sending a message to the chief about some of his people whom Comins had seen in Fiji. This chief is friendly, and last year said that on James Iumani's return from Norfolk Island he would have a school. He did not appear, the whole village being engaged in preparing for a feast. Piles of cocoanuts had already been gathered, and were stacked round posts on the beach where we landed.
I was quite glad to leave this land of sorrows, where no man's life is safe; where, without a man's knowing it, money is out upon his head; where friends betray friends to death only to gain the blood-money; where feuds are treasured for years; where treachery and murder are the marks of the brave, and the only road to esteem; where no man can rise to chieftainship or [5/6] power unless he can point to so many slain; where men are hunted like wild animals. But there is one lesson I have learned here more perfectly than ever before, and that is the marvellous power of the Grace of God. These savages even, by that, can become men. How completely changed are the boys who have been taken from these people and trained at Norfolk Island, e.g., Luke Masaraa, who held his post at Port Adam until to stay longer meant certain death, and he is the brother of one of Fred. Howard's murderers; or James Iumani, of Paloto, the organist at Norfolk Island, one of the most refined and best boys we have. Who could have believed that boys born with such surroundings could have become what they are? And could have believed that having become such as they are, they should be willing to go back after ten years or so of training to try to teach their squalid, ferocious relations, having a price on their heads, and appointed to be treated as pigs and not as men. The captain tells me that the only time the natives have ever appeared to think of attacking our ship was at Port Adam. After Bishop Patteson had been killed, and his murderers punished, Santa Cruz was closed for some years to the mission. Two Cruzians happened to be blown away, and reached Port Adam, where they were kept until a suitable time came for a feast, in which, poor fellows, they were to take an unpleasantly important part. However, before that day came, Bishop Selwyn arrived, and entered into negotiations with the chief with the purpose of buying the men. One man they would part with, because he had sores, and a large sum was offered for him. The other must remain. So the transaction was completed. But on the ship returning on the following day to make a further effort to save the second man the people had repented of their previous decision, and came and demanded the man back. They swarmed round the ship, the chief furiously demanding his surrender, or, if not that, that either he or the Bishop should go ashore with them just to sleep for one night with them. Bishop Selwyn felt that his sleep would be for many nights if he went, and so declined both for himself and friend. Meanwhile, every canoe in the place had mustered round the "Southern Cross," and the people could be seen on the shores cutting down trees and making rafts to come alongside on. However, Captain Bongard got under weigh and Port Adam knew us no more for some years to come. The second Cruzian escaped soon afterwards. He was to have been killed on the following day, and in the night he escaped from his guards and found his way down to the beach.
(To be continued next month.)
[The Southern Cross Log, Vol. 1—No. 9, Auckland, January, 1896, pages 1-7.]
 [Last month told of the Bishop at Wango and Heuru, in S. Cristoval; Saa, in Malanta; and then Ulawa, Port Adam, and Paloto].
THE story is told of two Cruzians who were blown away, and landed at Port Adam, and how Bishop Selwyn bought one, and the other eventually escaped. When the second Cruzian got down to the beach he seized a canoe, but discovered there was no paddle. He stole back to the village and found one, and then set off. He was wrecked on the coast, and made for the bush, finding his way to the neighbourhood of Saa. One day he stole clown to the beach, and saw his old enemy the chief from whom he had escaped making merry with a party of friends. He crept back and hid once more. News of him now reached the Saa school people, and Joe Wate, the teacher, went out and called for him. The poor lad, hearing his name, came out and threw himself on Joe's mercy. The "Southern Cross" soon had him on board, and he and his friend were carried back to Santa Cruz, where they so effectually prepared the way for the mission by telling what the Bishop had done for them, and how entirely the white men had forgiven the islanders for killing Bishop Patteson, that friendly relations began once more, and have continued ever since.
October 6.—The engines having gone a little wrong we steamed very slowly up the Indispensable Straits, between Malanta and Guadalcanar to Florida. Land is plainly visible on both sides all the way, and little Florida lies in between the two large islands; it is hilly, and not unlike Norfolk Island as one approaches, having wide, green spaces, and not the interminable forests of the other islands. It is different from them physically, and how different spiritually! I felt as though I were approaching an isle of saints. There are some twenty-eight schools for me to visit, and out of 4,000 people 3,500 are Christians. Yet there was a time when our ship dared not anchor in Mboli [1/2] Harbour. In 1871 the ship Lavinia was cut out here and all killed. Again, in Olevuga Harbour, in 1875, a labour vessel, the "Dancing Wave," was cut out. And it was by these people, in 1880, that Lieutenant Bower, of "H.M.S. Sandfly," was killed and his boat's crew. In only a few years a race of islanders as evilly disposed as the Malantese have been transformed by the Grace of God. Charles Sapibuana, one of Bishop Patteson's boys, commenced the work at the risk of his life; Mr. Brooke continued it; the harvest was reaped by the Rev. A. Penny and many who have followed him.
Mr. Browning came on board at Belaga, brought off in a canoe. He looked ill, and Reuben Bula, the deacon, said that he had been so, but never enough so to make him to lie down for long. His boat has come to grief and he has been forced to depend upon native canoes. The meeting between the Florida boys and their friends in eight or nine canoes was most hearty. This was a real going home for the holidays. No one could call going home to Saa or Port Adam a pleasure. I just went ashore at Belaga to pick up Browning; saw the church, a fine, big building of bamboo with thatch roof, and then returned to the ship and steamed away to Mboli Harbour. Here we dropped anchor at 3 o'clock, with a prospect of a quiet time before us, to-morrow being Sunday, and Monday we must spend here repairing our damaged engine. Many canoes have come off; there seems no end to the teachers. I hear there are sixty-six of them here, and all these once savage Solomon Islanders are our friends. The feeling comes over me constantly, How good to be here! No wonder that the Florida boys at Norfolk Island always get homesick, and try to leave us before they are properly educated. I sat under the awning by myself, with the young moon well overhead, and the ship as still as if she had grounded, whilst the waves broke on the reef outside us, and the sound of happy laughter came from the shore, and I thought that this place must surely become the fountain of life to the cannibal islands which lie all around it; this must become a light in a dark place. We must set before ourselves a high ideal for it. These Christians must not only have given up heathen ways, they must help others to do the same. Moreover, over, they must learn crafts, carpentering, boat building, etc., which shall raise them in the esteem of the surrounding nations, so that they also may ask to be taught the wonderful doctrine which make nations great. As soon as possible I shall seek missionary carpenters and other tradesmen of the right sort to come and teach these people some of the arts of civilization. [2/3] We have 80 acres belonging to the Mission, overlooking Mboli Harbour. We have now to try to use it. Life in Florida is said to be dull for the young men. True there are the gardens to cultivate, and the fish to catch, but what are these when compared with the wonderful things which are to be seen and done in the white man's country? Such questions are rife everywhere amongst the young men, and when the labour vessels come they readily recruit in them to take a turn on the sugar fields of Queensland or Fiji. A whole first class at a school fails to put in an appearance. The question is asked, "Where are they?" and the answer is, "They have gone to Queensland." Disheartening enough it must be to the teachers at the time, and still more so when their scholars return (if ever they do) with airs, and graces, and pigeon English, seasoned with oaths, picked up in the white man's land. Cannot the Church do more for these poor fellows whilst they are there.
Browning is rather downhearted about Belaga. Their first love seems to have waxed cold, and I am sure it will be so unless we set them very high ideals, like the evangelisation of Guadalcanar and Malanta by teachers from Florida, almsgiving on a larger scale, and the arts of civilisation. I am very glad to hear of the kindness which two traders have shown to Browning. If they were all like Nielson and Aleck, the best friend of the Melanesian would have no reason to complain.
October 7 (Sunday).—At anchor in Mboli Harbour. Went ashore at seven to Holy Communion. A labour vessel, the "Roderick Dhu," of Queensland, came in at about 11. She is the first I have seen at close quarters, and I took a good look at her. She showed a black ball at her masthead to signify that she was recruiting "native labour;" her boats were painted red, according to law, and her decks seemed covered with black passengers. Very soon the captain and Government agent came on board. The business of the latter is to go in the second of the two red whaleboats which are sent ashore to pick up recruits. This is the "covering boat," which, with men well armed, waits a little distance off shore whilst the first boat carries the recruiter, whose duty it is to persuade and entice the natives to leave their homes. He is supposed to see that no man is recruited against his will; that no false promises of short service and much money are held out, and that those returning are restored to their own islands. Six pounds a year for three years are the wages offered to the native; and the owners of the ship receive £25 or more from the planters for bringing him. One recruit a [3/4] day will make labour-recruiting a paying business at this price; but it is a dangerous one in these days when the natives are well supplied with arms and ammunition, and most of the coast tribes are at war. Captain N—-. gave me some important news. The greatest chief in the North of Malanta is a great friend to white men, and traders are never afraid when they are with him. He is now asking for a white teacher. He refuses to have a black one, but he wants a white. This really seems an opening. Norman confirms the news that a German trader is selling arms to the natives all round, against the law of the British protectorate of the Solomons.
A great many Florida friends came off and spent the afternoon with us on the ship. Comins, Browning, and I paid the labour ship a visit. Some 30 labourers were on board, nearly all Malanta men, two with young wives. Many looked great ruffians and ready for anything; some had served three years already, and were going again. They generally knew the names of the various religious agents working amongst the people in Queensland. They looked happy, and there is no doubt they were so, for the novelty of the journey was still fresh, and they were leaving a miserably unsettled condition of life behind them. I went ashore at six for a Confirmation at Boromoli; confirmed thirty-five persons, mostly old and elderly men. These were the people who, twelve years ago or so, made Florida a terror to traders and all visitors. Now these men, utterly changed by the grace of God, knelt humbly to receive fresh grace. The heathen around wonder at Florida; they see in her a neighbour who has broken with every custom and practice which they consider most sacred. She has in their eyes committed the grossest sacrilege in selling her tindalos to any one for what they would fetch. But they are not sufficiently combined to punish her; she has become unified by her religion; they are all divided by their feuds. Many Florida people are not very earnest Christians, but they would be horrified at the thought of reverting to heathenism.
Rowed up the Ututha to Bagekama. The Ututha is a fine deep channel, dividing South from Middle Island. Mangrove swamps lie on both sides, and these are said to be alive with crocodiles. The natives catch them by a very simple contrivance. A small space by the river is fenced off, with an opening to the stream; near the entrance a loop of tough line is suspended; at the head of it a good sized bag of nuts or a piece of pig. The crocodile, in securing the bait, finds his way through [4/5] the loop, which tightens round him and holds him until the village can turn out and spear the poor brute to death. I baptized six adults at Bagekama. All the villagers came to the service, and behaved reverently, taking much interest in the baptism of their friends.
October 9.—Went ashore and looked at Siota, the new Mission property. Comins has bought eighty acres there, fronting Mboli Harbour. It consists of two grassy hills, about 70 ft. high, with a sago palm valley between, and a swampy piece of land to the south. This last will be useless, but I do not think it will make the place unhealthy. It would be an excellent thing if we could set up a college here, at which teachers might be educated for the surrounding islands.
Left Mboli at nine, and steamed through the Ututha, a wonderful channel about 10 miles long, and generally 100 yards wide, or more, with seven fathoms of water. On either side a mangrove fringe, behind which stand thickly vegetated hills, amongst which cockatoos flew and screamed. We had a crowd of Florida people on board, teachers, chiefs, and friends, and they all seemed to enjoy the voyage. Put teachers' stores ashore at Halavo and again at Gavahoho. The latter is a heathen village where Alfred Lobu, a deacon, began working two years ago. Next year he hopes to present a good many for baptism, the old chief amongst them.
On the way to Hongo, Mandaliano, the scene of Lieutenant Bower's murder in 1880, showed up. This murder was the work of the Gaeta people, and done to pacify Kalikona, the chief, who had lost some money, and would only be appeased by a head. The murderers were promptly punished, and the effect was exceedingly good upon the islanders. Bower's only surviving companion, Savage, after all had been killed, swam to an island near Hongo, where a returned labourer named Peter, now one of our teachers, found him and persuaded him to go ashore. His life was spared by Tambukoro, the chief, although all his people clamoured for his death. I went ashore at six at Hongo for a formal reception by teachers and Tambukoro. The latter is a little old man. Ever since he saved Savage and was made much of by the men-o'-war captains he has favoured white men. It was after this event that Penny was able to start a school here. Tambukoro still has a trusty army of fifty men ready to do his bidding, and only last year he called them out to punish Lipa, a chief at the north end of the island, and would have levied war had not the teachers stopped him. Strangely [5/6] enough the weapon on which he most relied was dynamite, of which he held about 200 charges. We reached his village after a row through a mangrove swamp, which is said to be full of crocodiles, but they are timid creatures and we saw none. Tambukoro and his people received me. I gave him a few presents, and then we all went to the church together, where twelve persons were baptised in the presence of a large congregation.
October 10.—Went ashore early for Holy Communion. Fifty-seven communicants. Re-instated Alfred Lobu, a lapsed deacon. He is a man of peculiar power, far beyond his fellows. His fall was due to a great temptation. He repented at once, left his home, and lived away in the bush like a wild beast. For more than a year he hid himself, until Comins found him and brought him back. Nothing could have been more real than his repentance, and after a time he was admitted to prayers once more. Three years went by and still he could not forgive himself. A man was dying in his village and asked for baptism, but Alfred refused to undertake it, saying that he was not worthy, and going six miles to fetch a teacher named Pai, from Hongo, to baptise the man. Meanwhile he had settled at Gavahoho, a heathen village, and has succeeded wonderfully, having brought together a large baptism class. I felt I was right in re-instating him. He was much overcome. I confirmed thirty-six persons (mostly men), amongst them old Tabukoro and his wife. Tabukoro is the most powerful chief in Florida, no doubt he fought his way to his position, and only held it because he was the greatest warrior. He was baptised by Bishop Selwyn a few years ago, and has shown himself worthy of it.
October 11.—Visited school villages at Bulo, Vuturua, and Golo. At the last place we picked up some cocoanuts. There is never any difficulty in getting them. A boy swarms up the trees and gets as many as you require. If you pay at all you give a stick of tobacco, worth three farthings, for them. There is a good pint of milk in each; a deliciously cool drink. The cocoanut is the staff of life of the islands. The fruit is food and drink; the leaves are thatch, torches, and ladies' dresses; the husk of the fruit is firing, the stems form the poles by which the houses are supported, and, in fighting countries, spears. In all our journeys, as here, we find that the people are hard at work in their gardens. It is the women's work chiefly, but the men help in it. It is a mistake to think that Melanesians do not work in their own islands. They walk great distances to their [6/7] gardens, which are generally on the hills far inland. One of the evangelisation of Florida is that the people have left their old hill villages and now live on the coast, where no one dared to live in the old days, being far too much exposed to marauders and head-hunters.
Sailed past Boli, where old Takaa lives. Some say he is a greater chief than Tabukoro, but he is old now and can do nothing. It was he who favoured the Mission in old days, protecting the first teachers. Finding that the country was listening to the teaching he set his face against it, and is now a bitter foe to Christianity. But he stands alone, a heathen among Christians, and a strange monument of the past. Anchored off Vara.
(To be continued next month.)
ERRATUM.—In the September LOG, p. 4: On October 3, "We left Mawa" should be "Ulawa." The difference between Ul and M in writing is not easy to see. [Transcriber's note: correction already made throughout.]
[The Southern Cross Log, Vol. 1—No. 10, Auckland, February, 1896, pages 1-6.]
 [Last month the ship was at Florida, Beluga, Mboli, Boromdli, Bagekama, and Hongo, the chief of which island is Tambukoro, at whose place the narrative is carried on this month].
October 12.—Weighed anchor at six, and went ashore at Tumuligoho, a little village lately sprung up in the bush. Matthew Mundi, the teacher; met us on the beach, also his brother, Pako, the one survivor of the "Sandfly" murderers. He escaped to the bush, and remained hidden for thirteen years, everyone believing him to be dead. In 1893 he appeared and gave himself up. The Mission interested itself on his behalf and he was pardoned. He is a big fellow, and still looks much like a wild man of the woods. Peter, who saved Savage's life on the same occasion, was with us. Pako and he greeted each other heartily.
I held a quiet little confirmation at Ravu. Three or four villages sent candidates, twenty-five in all. I preached on "I am not ashamed of the Gospel of Christ." A hearty people and an impressive service. Afterwards the women brought quantities of puddings, yams, and nuts. In their palm-leaf skirts they are very picturesque; but these are not considered fashionable, and they love to adorn themselves in a hideous print.
Came through Sandfly Passage, a lovely piece of scenery. Many canoes came off, bringing the usual things for sale, such as clam shells and shells of all kinds, and cocoanut cups, which really must have taxed the makers' energies. The Florida people are unenterprising in their industries. They make no combs, limepots, bowls, etc., which we find in other Solomon Islands. And, of course, now-a-days, they make no spears or shields. But they do build good canoes, and excellent houses—the best I have seen in the islands; they are also born traders, industrious gardeners, and persevering fishermen. Their mode of fishing is peculiar. Four tall stands are built in the sea at the four corners of a square; between them they work a large [1/2] net, the fish being guided to it by fences and coral walls. Comins went up to Nago and baptised thirty-seven people, the first fruits of Gara's work in a hitherto heathen place. Gara is one of Bishop Patteson's boys.
When we set up our college at Siota a doctor should be attached. The sores of the people are quite awful. I confirmed a man this morning with a fearful sore on his leg; lack of attention and flies had brought it to a terrible condition. The leg was attenuated to the size of my wrist. And such sores are common in every village, the people paying little attention to them from long use.
Reached Olevuga at three. This is an interesting spot, in that here the "Dancing Wave," a labour vessel, was cut out in 1875, the last case of the sort in Florida. The crew were ashore at a feast and dance. The captain had gone to find a new ground on which to seek beche-de-mer. In the midst of the feast the men ashore were mastered and slain. A few men went off in canoes and despatched the watch on board; and when the master returned he found himself without a crew and all valuables gone. With the men who had rowed his boat he set sail, and saved his life and his ship. For many years Olevuga was a cave of Adullam. Bad characters and men "wanted" found a refuge here. Now it is the heathen's last rallying ground. Lipa, the chief, is a power in Florida, and he has at times offered much opposition to the school. Now he is wavering; his son is a teacher, and he himself says that were his school a good one he would go to it. At present he only shows his interest in Christianity by finding, for his own benefit, Christians who play truant. "If," says he, "they have accepted the new teaching, they must go to school, and so keep to it." There is no doubt that this school is in a bad way. We talked the matter out with all the Christians, and concluded that the head teacher, Silas Kema, was lazy, and had better be removed.
October 13.—Up anchor at five. Reached Vatalau, a small island between Florida and Bugotu; the people are colonists from Bugotu. Went ashore and picked up eight persons for confirmation at Bugotu. The little church is well built, well furnished, and well kept. It contrasted well with some of the Florida churches, where the builders have not always kept pace with the rapid spread of the faith. Made sail for Bugotu, and reached Sepi at noon. A great many natives came on board, very naked, with faces marked with white lines, all equally friendly and at their ease on the ship. Quantities of pineapples were brought for sale. Presently Soga, the chief, came, the man [2/3] above all others I wanted to see in the South Seas. He is tall and thin, about 50, with a very intelligent face and good manners. Away to the north-west lay George's Island, utterly depopulated through Soga's bloody raids in old days. Now he came aboard, clothed indeed only with a shirt and helmet, but in his right mind. The full story of his conversion, his subsequent zeal in the translation of the Gospels, and his support and friendship given to Dr. Welchman and Hugo Gorovaka belong to the history of the Melanesian Mission. Here I find him at the head of a settled community, esteemed by all, and the greatest chief in Bugotu. He is great both in Church and State, leading his people in things which belong to both worlds. By the sea shore he has planted an avenue of sago palms, making a small but shady esplanade. Behind the village is a large garden with walks, fenced with coral and fringed with pineapple plants. Wrong-doers are made to atone for their crimes by working here. Pigs are rigorously excluded from both garden and village. All this is beyond anything that I have seen in other islands. Through the garden we found our way to a very pretty chine with a good stream to which, when the bell rings in the morning, all the village repairs for washing. The church is small, but well-furnished and clean. As usual in these Solomon Island churches, there are two approaches to it, and two doors, one for the men, the other for the women. Inside, between the doors, is Soga's throne. There is an excellent reredos, made of split bamboos, black and white, showing a cross in the centre. I love to see this native work. There is no harmonium; I have only noticed one in the islands yet, that is at So. The singing is always started by one of the teachers, and is taken up by the people, the women sitting on one side by themselves singing the tune, and the men on the other the parts. Part singing seems to come naturally to Melanesians, and they keep both time and tune. The church is the house of prayer to the people, or, nothing. Where families all live in one room, except the young men, who sleep in the canoe-house, private prayers must be a difficulty. In most villages the people go at sunrise to the church and say them there. Again they meet for matins and evensong daily. All kneel at prayer, and the reverence is most marked. On Sunday there are services and Sunday School—men, women, and children attending; as on week days. One sermon is considered sufficient. Soga, the chief, helps Hugo, the native deacon, in teaching in the school.
How happy life appears to be in one of these island villages, and how innocent! Work so light: wants so small and so amply [3/4] supplied by nature; minds so simple and child-like; yet there is a seamy side even here: at times food runs short before the new crops are ready. At such a time, if the "Southern Cross" arrives, and our money is offered for food, the answer is "there is none; the people are hungry." At such a time they travel 40 or 50 miles in search of it, and islanders, where there is plenty, will travel the same distance to supply the wants of the hungry ones. Moreover, life is dull; so dull, that when the chance offers the young men gladly "recruit for Queensland." The lack of young men in Florida is as marked as the lack of women in the Torres Islands, and the cause is the same—the labour traffic. To meet this dullness, I can only think that we should teach them arts which will occupy their time, interest them, and increase their comforts. Sometimes, moreover, the chiefs are great tyrants, and wring money from their people mercilessly; such chiefs offer the greatest opposition to Christianity, because they know that limits will be placed by it upon their tyranny. Even Soga found it difficult to learn that with God there is no distinction of persons, and that there is one law for the rich and the poor. He exercises justice over his people, and in cases of crime, fines them rigorously. A man at a distance of 40 miles from him was a thief, and Soga summoned him to justice; the man paid no attention to the call, thinking that Soga was a Christian now, and killed no one; on this account he declined to go. However, a canoe, with 40 men, was sent off to fetch him; the party arrived and cut down all his trees, ate his food, burned his house, and then carried him to Soga. Now he thought that he was to be killed after all; however, justice had been satisfied, and a severe lesson had been read to him, and he was allowed to return home with a caution. This year, a crime came upon Soga's own home; his son did wrong, and had to be fined, and the money was to be paid not to himself, which, as he would pay the son's fine himself, would be taking money from one pocket and putting it into the other—figuratively speaking, for Soga has no pockets; it was therefore to be paid to Hugo, the deacon, who would buy a canoe for church work in Bugotu. The fine was a heavy one, amounting to about £7 in native money, and I was prepared to hear that Soga would not pay it; however, I was glad to find that the money had been paid, and that Soga was quite satisfied and happy about it.
As is usual in Christian villages, there are a great many children here. Infanticide, which used to be so common, is past; Bugotu's enemies are the head-hunters from Rubiana (New Georgia). They come in their canoes 150 miles to carry out their [4/5] miserable work. Only two years ago the villages of Sepi were scattered, and Soga and some of his men shut up in a fortified island for weeks, whilst the head-hunters held the village. Captain Davies, R.N., about that time, punished Rubiana severely, burning some villages, and some 3,000 skulls; since then Bugotu has been free from attacks.
Baptized 37 men and women at evensong, Sunday, October 14th.; Holy Communion on shore. The people of Sepi have not yet been confirmed, so there were only eight of us present. The deacon, Hugo Gorovaka, came to breakfast with us; a most superior intelligent man; he works well with the chief. A very full church at 10.30: many people sitting on the sand in the aisle. I confirmed eight men and nine women from Vatilau and Vakoria. Sailed down to Mavealu in a ship's boat, and confirmed there twelve men and five women from Bupa, Mede, Mavealu, and Vulavu. We had a crowded church; the singing was good, and the responses of the candidates hearty. Reached the "Southern Cross" at Vulavu. Found Browning down with bad attack of ague. Held service with the crew, and preached for the fifth time to-day. We have shipped a great many hangers-on. The people who asked for a passage from Vatalau to Bugotu cannot tear themselves away from the ship's rice and biscuits. They are useful in the boats; but food is necessarily short, and they may prove a mixed multitude in the camp.
October 15th.—Went ashore at 7.30. This was the chief station in Bugotu twelve years ago, but it has been devastated by head-hunters from Rubiana, until life, even if possible, is scarcely worth living. The coast villages here have always afforded an easy prey for these wretched marauders. Until the day of rifles, Bugotu people built their houses in the tree tops, reaching them by swinging ladders, and keeping them well supplied with stones, to serve as missiles in case of attack, and also with food in case of siege. Nowadays, these are insecure, and at the first approach of the enemy the people scatter into the bush, leaving their houses, which are poorly built, to the mercy of the invaders.
Visited Bupa and Mede; two little villages perched up on the cliffs 200 feet above the sea, to be out of the way of the head-hunters. At Mede, some thirty people expected me to baptize them, but Dr. Welchman had given orders to the contrary, they, being too young in the faith and unproved; but they were a hearty set of people. I had to shake hands with every man, woman, and child, even with babies on their mothers' backs. In Florida, people regard hand shaking as an absurd custom; here the opposite is the case. To test their devotion to it, on leaving [5/6] I stood knee deep in the water, and shouted "Good-bye." However, there was no leaving in this way; they all insisted on saying their farewells properly, though they had to wade for it. Finally as we left them they gave us three cheers, and a native "Whoop—holloa:" Great big fellows the men are, with hair, whiskers, moustaches, and eyebrows whitened with lime, and a few devices in lime on their faces thrown in. In clothes they are just decent; however, they would take nothing but cloth for their curios. Quantities of war clubs, paddles, lime pots, nets, shields, and chest ornaments were brought by them for sale: Everyone wanted cloth, and when our stock had run out there was a run upon Jews' harps.
Reached Perihadi, the end of our journey, at noon. Here we water and take in wood, spending two days in a small bay, with wooded hills on three sides of us, and a fringe of mangroves and swamps, full of crocodiles, at the water's edge. Men swarmed on board with clubs, etc., for sale. The effect of lime on the hair is to turn it brown, and straighten it out. I have not seen a black haired man here, and very few with the crisp woolly head of the ordinary Melanesian. Most of the people are of a light brown colour. Their dress is scanty; white armlets, sometimes six or seven; a tight grass band round the biceps; a white shell waistband; and an attenuated loin cloth. This light dress shows off grandly made men, with bright faces, which light up with childlike delight when one speaks to them. To come on board and spend the day is a great treat to them. They help at pumping in the fresh water, or carrying wood; fetching it from the stacks they have built up at the water's edge in the expectation of the eighteenpence per fathom which we are glad to buy it at. All day the cockatoos keep up a chorus, reminding me of an English rookery. At night we have magnificent distant storms to watch, now away out to sea, and now over the hills landwards. At present, I am thankful to say, they have always kept their distance.
One of the industries of Bugotu people is the manufacture of tappa cloth. It is made out of the bark of the paper mulberry tree, by washing and beating it with a short heavy club; breadths being welded together until it is sufficiently wide. The cloth thus formed is like a very light felt, and makes a very good dress for the women; it takes a lot of labour to make, but the people are very glad to sell it for an equal length of cloth. It was with a club used for beating out this cloth than Bishop Patteson was killed at Nukapu.
(To be continued next month.)
[The Southern Cross Log, Vol. 1—No. 11, Auckland, March, 1896, pages 1-3.]
 SUNDAY, October 16: Perihadi, Bugotu.—Continued watering and wooding the ship until afternoon. A quiet harbour to lie in, but hot and malarious. Went ashore for a confirmation. The way lay up a creek in a mangrove swamp; then a steep climb of about 200 feet to the little village, perched on the top of the hill. Dr. Welchman's house crowns the village, placed in a most insecure fashion on a good-sized rock, with a precipice on one side, and a path up the face of the rock on the other. The whole house consists of one room, about 12 by 8 feet. Where the rock, is too narrow or mis-shapen to support it, a pole props it up; a good strong wind would, one would think, carry it half way across the valley that lies beneath it. The people live in this queer little out-of-the-way village to be safe from head-hunters, and they have certainly chosen their home well. They have just built for themselves a nice little church, and are about to put up a new school, the old one having been devoured by white ants: the earth-tunnels of these ants run up and along every pole and beam, culminating in a large earthern nest at the top of one of the central poles.
 The people in this out-of-the-way little place are kept well together by their teacher, Moffatt; both school and church services are regularly attended by them. Before the confirmation service, Parako, a fallen teacher, made confession of his sin and repentance publicly before the congregation, and was re-admitted to prayers. A Christian in the Islands who falls into sin, generally, of his own accord, stays away from the daily services. If he did not absent himself, he would be told that he must either give up the sinful thing, or else give up making the pretence to worship God; he would be shut out from prayers until he saw his fault and confessed it before all. With a proper service he would then be received back into the fellowship of the Church. This is a part of the ancient discipline of the Church, the restoration of which, says the Commination Service, is much to be wished. Here the wish has become fact with very salutary results. But what a test of penitence, to have to stand up and say what you have done to all your kith, kin, and belongings!
I confirmed twenty-six candidates, and spoke to them, first about confessing Christ before men, and then, after the laying-on of hands, on the secret of retaining the mana (power) they had just received—regular prayer, self-examination, and confession, Bible-reading, and Holy Communion.
The ship was full of natives all the day through, canoes going backwards and forwards, bringing visitors and taking them away. A visit to our vessel makes a sort of excursion for all the people in the neighbourhood. The people of Pahua in great force. They are the best looking Melanesians I have seen—fair hair and skin, and beautiful eyes.
October 17.—Went ashore early and celebrated Holy Communion for the teachers who had come together from all parts. Thirty communicated. Some trouble after service. Welchman has settled that George Basile shall go to Guadalcanar and start work there. George was born there, at a village called Savale, but was brought up in Florida. He has married a native of Bugotu, a Perihadi girl, named Louisa. The trouble now was that the Perihadi people were not willing that Louisa should go to such a strange place as Guadalcanar with her husband. Her poor mother filled the village with her wails, and we had all we could do to comfort her, and get her to consent to her daughter's going. Comins was equal to the occasion. He discovered that Louisa, who had been a great pet at Norfolk Island, and had received many presents there, had somehow smuggled her box containing them ashore. Her friends had seen the box and its contents, and now they were called upon to part from it, as well [2/3] as her. After a time the people consented to Louisa's going; and she came, but on getting into the boat, there was no box. Hugo Gorovaka, Comins, and self had to return and use all our influence to get it. The trouble was that no presents had come out of it, and now it was to go away as full as it had come, and the disappointment and grief of all the friends and relations was dire. Comins cut this knot by making Louisa open the box and dispense gifts to our friends. Then she was allowed to come, and everyone was happy again, and the wailings ceased.
Left Perihadi at 9.45, after a short talk to the teachers on the upper deck. Pointed out our unity in one Body, and how much follows from it; also, that the Holy Communion we received together put Christ's death for us all before us. Let us work for Him as having a share in His love.
No easy task to get out of the harbour; only just possible to swing the ship between two large reefs. Glad to get away, Perihadi being a decidedly warm corner, and having a swamp-swell and a malarious character.
The harbour on S. George's Island, on the edge of which the French Bishop, killed in Bugotu in 1848, was buried, faced us as we came out, at a distance of three or four miles. The only account that I could get from the people of his death was to the effect that he landed by himself, and gave presents, but of insufficient value, to the chief, who took occasion to tomahawk him. It is generally told that he went ashore in full canonicals; that the natives thought him a ghost of some description and shot him with their arrows. The two accounts are very different, but Melanesians have no heads for history. Traditions exist for two or three generations and then fade away. Unlike the Maoris, the Melanesians give no account of themselves, or of their past. They are, and their fathers were, and their grandfathers were; but if their great-grandfathers were, or were not, is a matter of indifference. A chief who has shown great prowess in war is remembered for fifty years possibly, and his aid is invoked before going to battle, and small sacrifices are made to him, morsels of food placed upon a rock near which he is believed to move; but a time comes when his devotees are worsted in a fight; his mana (power) is supposed to have become exhausted, and his name perishes.
Bugotu, or Isabel, as the whole island is called, now comes within the German sphere of influence, together with Choiseul and Bougainville. New Georgia and the surrounding islands, Malanta, Guadalcanar, and Southern Solomons, are within the British protectorate.
[The Southern Cross Log, Vol. 1—No. 12, Auckland, April, 1896, pages 3-6.]
 [The last sketches by the Bishop gave an account of his visit to Bugotu, where Dr. Welchman has the cure of souls.]
 REACHED Vulavu early. Much trading was done by the Florida people on board; indeed they never fail in this respect. They are born traders. Soga came on board, bringing a large contingent to man his canoe (which we were going to carry to Vatalau for him), and also much food as a present for myself. A large pig was a part of his gift, tied up most uncomfortably in leaves, with a thick pole under his belly; on this he had been slung and carried for some miles. These people have no notion of kindness to animals; they treat all as if they were but live cocoanuts. We must do something to teach them better things.
Hugo Gorovaka left us. He is a very dear, refined, intelligent fellow, and a great power in Bugotu. When the Perihadi people were, angry because Louisa Basile was leaving them to go with her husband George to Guadalcanar, Hugo stepped forward, and said that if she and her husband did not go there, he and his wife and children would. When they said that she might die there, he answered: "If she die there, I will die here in Perihadi." Such a course would, according to native ideas, quite equalize matters; to die away from home being of the greatest moment.
October 18th (St. Luke's Day.)—Came across from Bugotu to Florida by night, under very easy steam. At 4 a.m. we were off Vatalau. I took ashore Soga and his people, and a few returning [3/4] Vatalau folks. An imposing little army of about forty men, each shouldering a tomahawk, marched along the beach to meet and welcome Soga. After shaking hands with them all, he gave them a short harangue. They showed him great respect and seemed almost awed by the great man's presence. I should say that he was the most influential chief we have seen in the Solomon Islands, and his influence, being entirely on the side of Christianity, is most beneficial.
A Portuguese trader lays claim to Vatalau, but the natives contend that he has no right whatever to it, and they are probably right.
Being homeward bound, we are now picking up boys to be taken to Norfolk Island, there to be trained, that some day they may teach their own people. At almost every village one or two boys come on board. Some bring boxes such as a schoolboy at Home would carry; others fifty or sixty cocoanuts, which the Home schoolboy would like, but would not have. Many are taking up yams and betelnuts for chewing. The friends and relations would fill the boats with these parting presents if we allowed them.
Mboli Harbour once more at one o'clock; the scene of the annual Parliament, or Vaukolu, which takes place to-morrow. Went ashore in Vuria's canoe (my first experience of such travelling), and found the people very busily preparing food and making mats for the big feast to-morrow. A great many teachers had already arrived, and a sort of old boys' gathering, with all the light-hearted fun peculiar to such occasions, was going on. The more that I see of the teachers as a body, the more I am impressed with their superiority to their surroundings, and with their strong influence for good. They are looked up to by the people with extraordinary respect, and deservedly so. Some indeed fall, and some are not satisfactory; but many are devout, hard-working, Christian leaders of their people. Taking them all together, I can only register my opinion that Bishop Patteson's hopes for a native Church of Melanesia, with a native ministry, shows every prospect of being realized. It may be necessary to minister to the people of this generation with unordained teachers; but in the next generation the teachers of to-day will have been succeeded by men who have been admitted to the priesthood and diaconate. "The white corks for the black net" will be necessary, we must suppose, for some time to come, but I believe the day is not very remote when the corks might be black too.
 October 19.—Went ashore for Holy Communion at 7. About 50 teachers communicated, Browning celebrating; Comins, Bula, and Lobu assisting. Ashore again at 11 for the Vaukolu, or Florida Parliament. An interesting gathering. A table was set beneath the cocoanut trees by the sea-shore, with a form for us white people. Round us sat some four or five hundred natives, the leading people of most of the villages in Florida. The teachers, about sixty of them, sat on our right, dressed generally in blue trousers, shirts, and straw hats. Six leading chiefs sat close to the table, and the rest, in scanty attire, formed three-fourths of a circle in front of us. Here and there was a young sprig dressed after the latest Queensland fashions; having just returned from the labour fields; but these were only here and there. The great majority were as much clothed as they came into the world, except for a small loin-girdle, a pipe stuck into it, and a few white neck and arm ornaments. Women had no part in the proceedings; they moved quietly past us now and then in their queer swaying fibre skirts, carrying the food they had cooked for the feast which was presently to follow.
The proceedings opened with a collect, then Browning made an introductory speech, in which he welcomed me on behalf of all, and read Bishop Selwyn's farewell letter. I answered, saying that it was a pleasure to see such a parliament formed after the pattern of those of the greatest countries in the world. My desire was to see Florida great; the first step towards it had been taken when they had accepted Christianity, and the villages had giving up fighting each other, and ill-feeling had ceased, so that it was possible for them all to come together as now, and act as a body instead of as separate tribes. I wished to see Florida shining out into the dark lands around; for this, their light, must be kept bright, their Christianity must be sincere, and their industry, manifest to all. Comins then read the existing laws, and introduced the question how persons who refused to pay their fines were to be compelled to do so; in old days they would have been killed, or their gardens and houses destroyed. It was believed that the last punishment would still have to be resorted to in extreme cases. Then Browning explained some difficulties which had been raised with regard to improper marriages, e.g, a Christian woman had allowed her daughter to marry a man who, without reason, had divorced two wives; the Christian marriage law was laid down, and this and other points were settled. The Australasian self-denial week was explained, and it was decided that Florida should take part in it. How chiefs should be elected was the next subject for discussion. [5/6] This was an important question, because we had already agreed that the chiefs of each village should be associated with the teachers in collecting fines for crimes, and in the general care of public money. The last piece of business was to receive money paid in fines and offertories. The disproportion was striking. In fines no less than £17 was paid in, mostly in gold; in offertories only £5 16s. Then commenced a very keen sale of the dog's and fish teeth which had been paid in,—these are the current coin in all these islands, and have their fixed value. A good dog's eye-tooth fetches sixpence; fish-teeth are rated at five for sixpence. We very soon had disposed of all we had received at these rates of exchange. By that time food was ready. Cocoanuts, yam-puddings, and other native foods had been put together into twenty-seven heaps, to each of which we added some thirty sticks of tobacco. The names of the villages were then called, and men from each came forward and carried away the heap allotted to them, and the feast began.
It was altogether a striking gathering. The attendance of leading men was very large. From twelve to three o'clock their attention never flagged. True, Tambukoro alone, of the natives, made a speech, but more was scarcely to be expected. All took an intelligent interest, and showed very plainly when they approved and when they did not.
October 20.—Started early in the boat for Belaga, rowing about four miles to an opening in the reef, at some distance beyond our destination. Walked back to it along a delightfully shady path by the beach. These paths are an outcome of Christianity in the country, having been unnecessary in the old fighting days, and having since then been made during "piping days of peace" by the forced labour of those who have been convicted of wrong-doing.
I confirmed 37 persons from Belaga, Arulagia, and Salisapa. The large church was well filled; the people sang heartily and well. Aboard again; steamed through the lovely Ututha, and dropped anchor in a creek, to be in readiness to reach Gumulagi to-morrow. We have now picked up 14 boys. It is often hard work for mothers to part with their boys, but it is generally felt to be a great privilege to have a son taken to Norfolk Island. Lobu brought two new boys from Gavuhuhu, until quite lately a heathen place with a bad reputation. It was here that the people lay in wait for Penny, with intent to kill him. However, now everyone is seeking baptism, and many will receive it next year, if all goes will.
(To be continued next month.)
[The Southern Cross Log, Vol. 1—No. 13, Auckland, May, 1896, pages 1-4.]
 OCTOBER 21 (22nd Sunday after Trinity).—The ship still at anchor in a most lovely pool off the Ututha. Hills closely vegetated, rise up on all sides of us. White cockatoos, as common as rooks in England, fly screaming amongst the trees. Bull-frogs keep up an incessant chorus. There is always excitement from the chance of seeing crocodiles. A terrific crash of thunder, seemingly right over us, startled every one in the night.
After breakfast I started with Browning for Gumulagi for a Church consecration, a baptism of adults, and a confirmation. We rowed and paddled along a slimy, stagnant stream, running amongst mangrove and sago swamps. In about an hour and a-half we reached the village, a tidy well-kept place, but in the very midst of swamps. John Takisi, the teacher, is a small king here; three villages have come together from the hills to put themselves under him. In old heathen days all the people lived on the hills for safety's sake. They have now everywhere moved towards the sea for the fishing, and they walk daily to their old gardens in the hills. A very good church has been built, large enough to hold 300 people. School is carried on with great regularity in the canoe-house, and John, I fancy, allows no truants. The church was filled at the service of consecration, the people entering well into the service, and forming the most attentive audience I have had in the islands. It was dedicated to Saint Matthew, John's education having been paid for by the people of St. Matthew's, Auckland. Thirteen persons were baptised, and seventeen confirmed; amongst the latter was the chief.
Reached the ship again before sunset. Found a great deal of life on board, people having come over from Hulavu to see their friends, and say "Good-bye" to their boys.
October 22nd.—Continued our journey homewards, having finished our work in Florida. I have confirmed 128 persons here, and have been present when many have received baptism. We have also picked up nineteen boys for training at Norfolk [1/2] Island. I came to Florida with a sense of relief after a short visit to Malanta. I was returning to a Christian country once more; it was almost like a going home. I felt I was going from darkness to light, from an island of savages to one of saints. Now my visit is over. I have seen it with my own eyes; I have visited many of its villages, met its teachers, seen its people crowding our decks, and also in their homes, and now I leave it with a feeling that I have not been disappointed. I believe that if we are given wisdom and means we may make little Florida a source of light to all the Solomons. It is set in the very midst of them; its people are intelligent and eager to learn; they are naturally traders, and visit every country within reach of them, buying and selling. A colony must be started next year, if possible, at Siota, in Mboli Harbour. Here must be posted resident white teachers, some clergy, a doctor, and possibly a carpenter. Ladies might well live here I think, and their influence would be beneficial. Many times it has struck me that these Islands are as England was in very early days: with tribes fighting constantly amongst themselves, whilst foreign marauders, Saxons, Danes, Normans, ravaged the coast villages. It was the little colonies of Christians, settled in religious houses, planted in the midst of the darkness, which finally lit the flame which never can be put out. Macaulay says of England "Nothing in the early existence of Britain indicated the greatness she was destined to attain. Her inhabitants, when first they became known to the Tyrian mariners, were little superior to the natives of the Sandwich Islands. . . . At length darkness begins to break, and the country, which had been lost to view as Britain, reappears as England. The conversion of the Saxon colonists to Christianity was the first of a long series of salutary revolutions."
Ran before a fine trade-wind to the North end of Guadalcanar, another of the big dark islands to which little Florida forms such a contrast. "No missionary need apply," is virtually posted up at every landing-place in the island. As at Savo hard by, the people love the traders, and where the trader is much in vogue as a rule the missionary is not. He will bring, so the traders say, every form of plague, so beware of letting him in! Ruddock once stayed here for some months, but made no headway. The chief had between twenty and thirty wives, and lived with them apart from his people. He would gladly have kept Ruddock with him for the good of himself and his wives, but he saw no reason why he should go to his people. Nothing could be done, and the mission was closed. Now we are about [2/3] to try again by putting George Basile down at his birthplace, Savulei. Alfred Lobu was once set down in the same way amongst his friends here. For two or three months he stayed with them, and found much hospitality, but if he opened a book in their presence, they all rushed away from him, fearing bewitchment. Nothing was done.
October 23.—At 8.15 a.m. took George Basile ashore at Savulei, Guadalcanar; a good, reef-protected harbour: Met at first only three or four men and a few boys on the beach. Began giving away a few fish-hooks, with the usual result—they took them and asked for more. We bought a good many mummy apples and cocoanuts; but no taros or yams, the gardens being too far away. Walked round the village with a returned labourer; houses very small and dirty, comparing badly with houses in Florida. After waiting about an hour, the chief; Kukuru, and a few other men, including the brother of Hugo Gorovaka (Hugo, now a deacon in Bugotu, was born here) came up, having been fetched from a distance. We gave them tobacco, and made friends. The chief promised to take great care of George and his wife; they were Tabukoro's friends, and, therefore, they were his, so he said. It looked as though all would be well, and we came away with hopes for the future. This is the commencement of a new effort to win Gaudalcanar. It is a small beginning, and subsequent growth will be watched anxiously. Penny and Ruddock tried to get a foothold here some years ago, but were driven out, the people refusing to come near them or to have anything to do with them, the alleged reason being that other natives would attack them for having a school, and they would be unable to protect the white men. A trader calls here occasionally and supplies their wants.
Coasted along till we reached Wanderer Bay. Here, in 1851, Mr. Boyd, of the Royal Yacht Squadron, brought his yacht, the "Wanderer," he and a few friends having conceived the project of welding together these islands to form a Papuan Confederation. However, everything failed, and the scheme collapsed with the death of Boyd, who, having gone up the creek which enters the Bay, to shoot pigeons, never returned. Since that time labour ships and men-o'-war have anchored here frequently, and white men are well known. The "Southern Cross" has never been here before. We rowed to a man in a red malo seated on a rock and picked him up, as he spoke English of a sort, and said he would show us a good watering-place. We went with him to his garden and bought some bananas and sugar-cane. The place was alive with parrots of all colours, and many other birds, [3/4] the like of which I never saw before. As in some of the other islands, the natives here have a horror of schools. However, our friend Taani, of the red malo, said that this prejudice was giving way, and that his chief, Baura, would like to have a school in his village.
We have come in for true Guadalcanar weather. Dr. Guppy, in his book on the Solomon Islands, says that the rainfall in this island is 500 inches in the hills, and 300 inches on the coast. It has rained on and off ever since we have been here.
October 24.—Spent the day searching for a returned Queensland labourer named Samson, who was supposed to be holding a school in this neighbourhood. Reached the black sand beach, which had been described to us as the landing-place for his village. Canoes came off and we made inquiries. The men said they thought they had heard of a man who had made a school at Avisi, a village close to Wanderer Bay, and close to our anchorage last night. It was against the grain to go back; but it seemed our duty to find Samson if it were possible, and do what we could to encourage him. We returned, therefore, and a good many canoes came out to us on the way. Everyone told us that there used to be a school on this coast, but it had "gone away long time," and they further volunteered the information that they "not like school." Two, at least, out of every four men in a canoe talk pigeon English, showing that they have been to Queensland or Fiji; yet this man Samson, whom we are hunting, is the only supposed Christian in Guadalcanar, and his existence is doubtful. These people all say he has gone away, and that a long time ago. We reached Avisi, and found a very heavy surf running in. A few people were on the beach; no one came off to us, and we saw no way of getting in to them, so gave it up, believing that our man had found it impossible to carry on the school and had returned to Queensland.
Guadalcanar is wet, but a wonderful country to look at. A chain of mountains, rising to 8,000ft., run from end to end—that is, about 100 miles. Probably no human foot has ever reached their summits. The natives consider them ghost-haunted, and will neither go themselves nor let others go.
[The Southern Cross Log, Vol. 1—No. 14, Auckland, June, 1896, pages 1-3.]
 OCTOBER 25th. —All day long we steamed slowly down the Guadalcanar coast, finding ourselves at nightfall off Saa, our head station in Malanta. The boys have recovered from sea-sickness and are in good spirits, playing tricks on one another, climbing the rigging, playing quoits, singing, and so on. I asked a new boy, who was the last to get over his sickness, if he was sorry he had come, and he shook his head vigorously. The smaller boys have given up smoking, preparatory to their life at Norfolk Island. It must be a considerable tax upon their self-control, for in Florida men, women, and children smoke from almost infancy's days. Men readily join with us in our expostulations against the women's pipes, but they will have to do something more than expostulate. The Mission has never considered it necessary to condemn smoking, and in the leisurely lives that natives lead, without books or many interests, it would be a great hardship to take away their pipes. We might, however, draw the line at the women and children smoking, and probably the first lady missionary who lives in Melanesia will draw that line at once and without difficulty.
October 26.—Reached Saa, and went ashore at 6 a.m. Found a good many naked heathen on the beach, and Christians with malas and short skirts mixing with them. They gave us a hearty reception, particularly the Christian party. The heathen have been leaving this bright little spot alone lately, and everyone was in good spirits. We all went to the school-church and said prayers together. Jo Wate read them, and the people responded and sang most heartily. I was much touched, for these were they who had come through much tribulation. I addressed them on "We have left all things," and Christ's answer in S. Luke, pointing out the contrast between those who had left all to follow evil and those who had left all to follow [1/2] Christ, and the reward for each. We examined the school registers, and found that 60 people who could read were attending regularly, and 40 who could not. Then we had some races for the boys for lines and fish-hooks, and I gave necklaces to the girls. We came away carrying with us three boys, a girl, and a fallen teacher, the latter to be put down under Clement Marau's care at Ulawa. He has a good wife, and will probably do well. We put down Luke Masuraa to take his place, and sailed on to Roas, a little way up the Malanta coast. The Saa people had told us that the chief of Roas would give us two boys, and we were not disappointed. We saw a crowd of men and women waiting for us on the beach, and we pulled ashore without hesitation. They were all heathen, but gave us a good reception. They parted with two boys with the greatest readiness, one a big fellow, whom we shall take to Clement to train, the other, about ten years old, will come to Norfolk Island. We bought a week's supply of yams, and came away much pleased. And well we might be, for it is only a few years ago that these people tomahawked a man-o'-war's man who had landed here, the man just escaping with his life. A vessel came the next year to take the offender, who, having heard that his victim had not succumbed, came boldly down to the beach. However, he did not approach the boat too closely, and presently a sailor threw a lasso and very nearly secured him. This was warning enough and the man fled. It was he who to-day had charge of the young chief, and to whom I gave a red malo and many fish-hooks by way of ingratiation. It appears that his story is that he had good reason for attacking the sailor.
We finished our work in Malanta by calling at Tawona, the landing place used by the Paloto people in the hills behind. We had meant to pass this by, but a canoe came off and begged us to land as everybody was down at the beach expecting us. We were in a hurry, but the chance of getting a boy made us loth to pass them by; moreover, we had called there two or three times before, and they had not come down to us. So Comins and I went in. We found the young chief quite ready to let a boy go with us, but the old men frowned on the plan; and dared a boy to get into the boat. It seemed they had some killing to do to make matters square, and that done they would be ready to have a school. We came away having done something towards making friends, and nothing more. If they had given us a boy they would have thrown in their lot with the Saa and Roas people, and would have made the hostile heathen think before they attacked them.
 In making the 35 miles across to San Cristoval, Maros fell or jumped overboard. The captain was the first to see him in the water, and cried "man overboard." It sent my heart into my mouth for a moment, but I was relieved when I saw that it was a man who could take care of himself if he would. The ship went about as quickly as possible, whilst we kept our eyes upon him. I watched him through my glasses, and I shall not forget in a hurry the sight of that head and face, now above the water and now below. At times I thought it was all over, as he disappeared time after time. However, when the boat reached him he was still afloat, and the sailors caught him and dragged him in. He was much exhausted, but being put to bed he soon recovered. He says he was sitting in the chains and his head swam and he fell. It may have been so, or it may have been intentional. Poor fellow! his brain seems affected, and his craziness leads him to imagine that the Florida boys mean to kill him. All this is very sad, and a great shock to all.
Took Bo and Aburu ashore at Heuru (San Cristoval). People glad to get them back. Whilst we were talking on the beach a little band of twelve heathen walked up in double file, perhaps to see if Bo had returned safely, and, if he had not, to ask the reason and how much compensation we meant to give. We had prayers in the school with a congregation of about seventy. The singing was terrible. Here, as elsewhere in the Islands, the singing depends entirely on the musical powers of the teachers, as, with only two exceptions, there are no harmoniums or other instruments. If a teacher is musical he may remember for some years the tunes he heard at Norfolk Island; but if his ear is poor, he teaches his people but a poor imitation of the tune. If he is, ambitious he adds to it variations, slurs, and runs until it is hard to make out what the original tune really was. Gedi, teacher of Heuru, is an instance of a man with no ear, and his people's singing is atrocious. Takesi, in Florida, is one who improves a tune beyond all knowledge. But whatever the teacher sings the people will follow him heartily in, although sometimes the music sounds very difficult.
As we left Heuru we discovered a stowaway in our boat. Poor lad! it was a grief to him to be carried back again; but if we had taken him it might have been regarded as kidnapping, and brought trouble in the future.
(To be continued next month.)
[The Southern Cross Log, Vol. 1—No. 15, Auckland, July, 1896, pages 1-3.]
 OCTOBER 27th.—Went ashore with Comins at Suola (Ulawa). A large number of Christians and naked heathen met us on the beach and gave us a good welcome. I gave the boys some races into the sea for fishing lines, and the crowd shouted and yelled. So full of delight were they that the heathens proposed a dance on the spot. However, we had come here to baptise some of the people, and a dance would not have been a good preparation. It was good to see them all so friendly and in such good spirits. Only a fortnight ago such was not the case. At dead of night Johnson Telegsem, the teacher at Suola, found his way to Clement Marau, at Matoa, eight miles off across the island, and told him that there was serious trouble in his village. The chief, a catechumen, had accused one of the heathen of insulting his daughter. The heathen took up arms against their chief, and intended to kill him and all the school people with him. That night Johnson fetched Clement, and as the heathen came up in the early morning, on destruction bent, to their surprise Clement walked into the midst of them. There was something so uncanny about his presence, when he was believed to be a good three hours' walk away, that they allowed him to lead them all home, and the war was over. Now the two parties are friends again, and the heathen spy that if they may have Johnson to teach them they will come to school.
I talked to the people by the help of our Norfolk Island boys, and bought their goods—e.g., baskets, shell fish-hooks, cocoanut-shell scoops, spears, arrows, clubs-whilst Comins was examining about twenty candidates for baptism in the school. [1/2] Being satisfied with them, he baptized them, explaining once more to them in his address the importance of the step they were taking. These persons represent the first fruits of Christianity in Suola. The service finished, we started with rather a large cavalcade of friends for Clement's village, Matoa. It was a tremendous climb to reach the crest of the steep and densely-wooded hill which forms the backbone of the island. Natives think nothing of it; they carried our goods, and would have carried baggage five times as heavy. They will carry heavy pigs, destined to make the relish at their feasts, for miles along these narrow, steep, slippery paths. The walk took us a good three hours, although the distance was but eight miles. During this time we never left the shade; we waded three streams; we were in the midst of most luxuriant and interesting vegetation, and Comins and the natives beguiled the way with narratives about days gone by. By this brook, Comins and his native friends were sitting a few years ago, some resting, some bathing, when suddenly every man seized his spear, and staring into the bush beyond the stream, put himself in readiness to throw. Fierce eyes were seen glaring through the bush. The first spear thrown would be the signal for a fight. However, someone spoke, and the voice was recognised by the opposite party, and it was discovered that the eyes in the bush belonged to friends, and the crisis was at an end. Then we passed through a level piece of coral-strewn ground, thickly covered with bush, out of which great trees towered. This, said the natives, has been the home of two wild men who, some years ago, were shipwrecked with their friends from Malanta on this coast, and survived the massacre which ensued, escaping to the bush. Here they have lived ever since, sleeping high up in the trees, traced from time to time, but always escaping capture, believing that their heads are still wanted, and knowing nothing of the great change which has, during late years, come over this part of the island from ways of murder and bloodshed to Christian peace and kindness, which makes those who once sought their lives now make overtures of friendship. Here, again, a man once tied the sun with two bands, peculiarly knotted, in order that Comins might have time to get across the island before dark.
A woman, with a big baby, walked with us all the way to see the last of her daughter, Teku, aged about 14, who was going with us to Norfolk Island, preparatory to her marriage with one of our boys. It is marvellous that parents allow their [2/3] daughters to go out of their sight thus for four years without a break. It grieves them, poor things, but they feel it an honour, and they seldom, if ever, decline to allow it.
October 28.—Sunday and S.S. Simon and Jude's Day. Celebrated on board at 7; Clement Marau and his wife and a few teachers, fourteen of us in all, communicated. The service over, we discovered a man-o'-war steaming down upon us. We soon saw that it was the "Ringdove," flying the High Commissioner's (Sir John Thurston) flag. Went on board, and found Sir John much pleased with what he had been able to effect among the wild natives of Rubiana, from whom he had now just come.
Ashore for matins, followed by confirmation. There were eleven candidates. They are the first people to receive confirmation in Ulawa, after eleven years of work by Clement. Two of the men were Philip and John who, some years ago, treacherously murdered a chief visiting their village. After the crime, they sat for safety sake in the school-house whilst the avengers of blood lurked in the bush all round. Hearing every day the children learning their simple lessons in the Christian faith, they picked up a little and desired to learn more. It ended in their publicly expressing their sorrow for the crime, and making what atonement for it was possible, then they received baptism. To-day they have been admitted to all thee privileges of the Church in confirmation. It was a happy and impressive service and well managed.
October 29.—Made sail last night at 8.30. Beating up against a strong trade-wind all day.
October 31.—Ditto. I am most anxious to spend All Saints' Day at Santa Cruz, and so I watch wind and weather with interest. Eighty miles from it at noon.
November 1 (All Saints' Day).—Still beating. During the night we met some tremendous squalls. I was awakened by a roaring noise and intense cold: We were rushing through the water at a great pace, six points off our course, but as close-hauled as possible. S. Anthony's fires were burning at masthead and yard-arms, and altogether it was a rough night. The morning found us still seventy miles from the island.
(To be continued next month.)
[The Southern Cross Log, Vol. 1—No. 17, Auckland, September, 1896, pages 1-7.]
 NOVEMBER 2.—Reached Santa Cruz at 8.30 a.m. We were at once surrounded by canoes. They came out to meet us in twos and threes whilst we were still eight miles from the shore. When we came up to Te Motu they were thick round us. The first men to board us came by the chains under the bows. Very soon the ship was covered by a noisy, shouting, laughing crowd, all intent on bargains. Beads, tobacco, and cloth they wanted, and they had miles of the most beautifully twisted fishing lines, arrows, mats, bags, shells, bows, etc., to sell. I went ashore to fetch the teacher Daniel, and a few confirmation candidates. We landed at the wrong place, at one of the villages which is always fighting with the people beyond the Christian village. They were a jolly, laughing crowd, very friendly, and glad to help us over the slippery rocks. However, Forrest advised us not to land there again.
Santa Cruz is quite different from the other islands. The people swarm; and they are most ingenious. The mats and baskets made out of bananas leaves and woven with native looms are marvels of beauty. Great thick coral walls, three feet wide, are built for defence, and also to keep the pigs in their proper place. In the centre of the village is the dancing ground, a round, flat space about 18 yards in diameter, smooth and level, and walled in with slabs of coral. A man who is left by his father's will a dancing ground is not to be envied. His friends [1/2] and acquaintances may come at any time from any distance and ask for a dance, and it is expected of him to kill sufficient pigs to feed all who choose to come to it. One of our people at Te Motu is kept poor because his father made a dancing ground and left it to him when he died.
We reached Nelua, Forrest's headquarters, at 1. He came off through the surf, and took us ashore, a number of Cruzians and Duff Islanders seizing the boat as a wave shot us up on the beach. Then I made a closer acquaintance with these people. They are magnificently developed, with chests and thighs that a prize-fighter would be proud of. Their skin is light, and so is their hair, through constant use of lime. A large tortoise shell is fixed through the cartilege of the nose, and falls down over the mouth, making a pipe a real difficulty. From eight to fifteen tortoise shell earrings an inch and a-half across, and a couple of large shell armlets, hang from each ear. A large, white, flat clam shell about six inches across covers the breast; six or eight armlets; a well-squared malo falling about eighteen inches before and behind, but not at the sides, so that the thighs are free; a white shell belt; and a string with a couple of shells on it make up a Cruzian's costume. In its way it is faultless. Every muscle is exposed. Everything worn is spotlessly clean and squarely put on. Untidiness must be an abomination to a Cruzian. No one can compare with him in Melanesia.
The first service in which I took part was Evensong, at which eighteen adults were baptized. In the new church, large, highly decorated, and well filled with a congregation of these people who have cost so much to win (five white men's lives), it was an impressive service. At 10 p.m. the village people came once more to church to say their prayers; after that, except for the weird, monotonous songs from the clubhouse hard by, all was quiet. We had twelve black boys lying on the floor, round the wood fire in the middle of the floor, but notwithstanding the crowd, and the smoke from the chimneyless fire, we slept.
November 3.—Began the day with a swim in the stream, At 7 I celebrated the Holy Communion, that Forrest might for the last time for eight months join in the service. At 11 I [2/3] consecrated the church. At 2 visited with Forrest old Natei. He is the big Santa Cruz chief, a very fierce old fellow in old days, and perhaps not much better now. Many a tussle has Forrest had with him, and many a time has Natei hired the Taape people to come and shoot arrows into the Christian village. Nowadays Taape has a school, and Natei must go elsewhere if he wants ruffians to do his work. Natei lives in a little village half-a-mile from Nelua. It is little because few men live in the same village as Natei. He fines too readily and too exhaustively. We went to him in the boat, and found him sitting outside the door of his clubhouse waiting to receive us in state. He had a distinct air of dignity. Tall, with grey hair, perfectly dressed in Cruzian fashion, evidently accustomed to command, he sat and gave us welcome; then he made us follow him into the house, where he gave me a headrest and a fan, and signed that we should lie down. It is not the fashion to talk to your host on such an occasion, so I talked to Forrest, and Natei talked to his friends. Thus we showed that each could get on without the other, and our dignity was preserved. Forrest pointed out a pig-net of enormous strength, and about 100 yards long; a shark line and noose made of native rope coiled over with fibre; the great four-post-bedstead-like structure erected in the middle of the room, on which the nuts and other food are kept; the massive beams of the roof, etc. Natei discussed my red-striped blazer, my legs showing below my trousers, and my appearance generally. Then he beckoned us to go and see his own house. Here we found his eight wives, all very curious to see the visitors, and a few select friends. The house was strongly built, like the other, with shingle floor covered with mats, and an erection in the middle over the fire, but supporting this time bags and bags of feather money. We again followed custom, and discussed what we saw. These coils of red money made out of feathers plucked from a small bird were much prized and carefully preserved. Natei had so much of it here that when all the village was on fire the people allowed their own houses to burn whilst they protected this wonderful treasure store. That small boy was Natei's only son; he would come in for very little of the money, as all relatives share equally a man's wealth at his death. Then Natei began to rain presents upon me, bags, mats, and food. Having examined them all, and well worth examination they were, I rained presents on him, red and blue cloth, tobacco, and beads. Then the eight wives began to throw mats and nuts across the room to me. I, in return, went round and shook hands with each, and gave them each a [3/4] blue necklace. They tried to say "Thank you," and giggled very much over their effort. All was now done, so we retired. Forrest said Natei had been very generous. I hope I had been too, but it is impossible to tell as I have no idea what value people attach to things in the different places we go to. A thing's value depends upon how much it is wanted, and so what an axe costing 5s. will not buy may sometimes be bought for a clay pipe, because that happens at the time to be more wanted.
At 7 we said Evensong, after which I confirmed 16 persons—11 men and 5 women. So reverent they all were; and so solemn the whole service. Here, in Santa Cruz, where even now traders dare not land, were these great strapping men humbly kneeling, and giving themselves to God.
November 4, Sunday.—Holy Communion in the language of Santa Cruz at 7. All those confirmed yesterday, three teachers, and ourselves communicated. It was the first Cruzian celebration ever held.
At 11 we gathered for Mattins. The church was well filled, the men far outnumbering the women; the reason being that until quite lately women had no school, for the sexes are kept very apart here, and a mixed school would be considered improper. A women's school has now been built, and members are increasing. They show no want of devotion. Many reach school only by swimming the river, and when that is in flood they will swim out to sea, and reach their school by a sea voyage. This looks like devotion.
At 5 I baptized as many babies. How they did scream And no wonder, for one-named after me—had a large tortoise shell nose-ring covering its mouth, and another had a bunch of eight or nine rings hanging like a bunch of grapes from one poor little ear. I fear it will be long before we break them of their barbarous ornaments. The fear is that when we do they will give up their smart, tidy ways also. I have seen boys here with twelve rings, an inch and a-half across, looped together, and fixed to each ear.
After Evensong we scrambled into the boat, and got through the surf dry. All our party have had adventures in the surf during our stay here. Captain Bongard was twice swamped last night in a native canoe, as he tried to get off to the ship, and finally sat it under water with two Cruzians swimming alongside to keep it straight and draw it out. Comins and Browning [4/5] have both had duckings; and one of the boat's crew was yesterday thrown headlong into the sea. Yet the sea has been quite calm, with wind off the land.
November 5.—As we were leaving Sir John Thurston came up to us in the "Ringdove." We went back with him and took him ashore. Spent the night at Te Motu, the "Southern Cross" in Graciosa Bay. My first visitors here were not particularly friendly, and tried to sell me all their rubbish, but failed. The people of the village had expected us for six weeks, and had put together large quantities of presents. Almost every man in the village gave me a mat, or arrows, or bags, or tappa cloth. Over 40 women, crowded together into one little house, and each gave me a mat and shook hands with me. Then I gave presents in return, and the men said "Thank you" one after another, after the manner of a soldier's feu-de joi; the women said it altogether, and then left. After they had gone I went for a wander with Forrest. I found that there were many villages placed very closely together. The little island of Te Motu (Trevanion Island) must be very crowded. The houses are beehive shape. In the midst of each village is a well-worn, stone-fenced dancing ground. A ghost-house lay in our way, and we crawled into it. It was slightly higher than the other houses, but of similar build. To the right on entering was the altar, on which gifts or sacrifices are placed. In shape it was like a bed-stead, built of wood, and brightly coloured. At the foot of it were coloured uprights, all of one shape, but many sizes, each one representing a father, grandfather, or other relation of villagers who still cherished their memories and placed gifts to their spirits upon the altar. On the matted floor were parts of large canoes, brought here to receive a blessing to carry them safely on their voyage. A few blow-shells were the only other things to be seen. The walls were painted, chiefly with designs of canoes, and pigs in the midst of food—an emblem of peace and plenty, perhaps. All the pictures were very rough; some few indecent. There was no difficulty about entering this ghost-house, two small holes in the walls, covered with banana leaves, admitting anyone who cared to go in.
Sacrifices and gifts to propitiate family and local ghosts are constantly being offered. Before a fleet of boats start on a fishing expedition, in days of scarcity, the men will live in the ghost-house to acquire power. The reverence with which they regard it does not prevent them smoking, and laughing, and talking, and sleeping in it.
 November 6.—Went on board the "Southern Cross" at daybreak. No small matter, carrying our presents of food and mats to the ship. Great numbers of these hospitable Cruzians helped us, and even to the last moment brought presents. With great difficulty they shoved the boat down to the sea over a terribly bad coral reef.
We passed the volcano Tinikalo at 10. The Cruzians on board eyed it with much curiosity. They regard it as the home of the spirits of their friends who are dead, and have erected a great many ghost-houses on it. A bad surf beats all round, making landing very difficult, and defending it from disenchantment.
Cruzians, brave as lions and ever fighting, are terribly afraid of things they cannot see, and make themselves miserable with their ghosts and superstitions. In rough weather they will see in the shark which follows them the ghost of an enemy, and will throw overboard their food and goods to propitiate it. But in dealing with things more tangible than ghosts, things they can see and understand, they are as fearless as lions. A man will go out sharking in a small canoe by himself. He rattles together cocoanut shells until he has attracted his quarry, then he will slip over the side a piece of pig, holding it in front of a stout noose; the shark enters the noose, and the man hauls tight, catching him between the fins. Then he holds on until he can haul in sufficiently to kill the brute with a blow on the head. The sea seems to have no terrors for these people; they set their mat sails, and make for islands over 100 miles away, steering by the stars. They are perfect swimmers, and can remain for many hours in the water without being any the worse for it. The favourite game of the boys is surf-boarding, the little fellows lying upon the flat surface of three or four boards fastened together and allowing themselves to be carried shorewards by the breakers as they roll in, until they are thrown into the deep water of the lagoon. Bow and arrow is the game that the men affect. They are constantly practising along the seashore shooting at the midrib of a palm-leaf at a distance of about 70 yards. I saw a dozen men hard at work at it at Nelua, and thought them satisfied with a very low rate of excellence. An archery meeting in the West of England would have put them all to shame. Some had queer fads in shooting, which could only spoil their shot, and endanger the lives of their friends near them. In about fifty shots I only saw the target hit once. These men came from villages which are constantly fighting; a game of [6/7] long shots along the seashore being almost as common as cricket matches at Home. Our Christian village at Te Motu is in the midst of villages constantly at war, and many a time Forrest has had to go out and stand between the combatants, and make peace. From what I saw I should say that a man might expect not to be hit, and perhaps that is the reason that broils are so common. However, as the arrows are all poisoned, and a scratch from one produces in most cases tetanus, it requires a deal of courage to be either a combatant or a peacemaker in Santa Cruz.
As we crossed over to Pileni we left the little reef island of Nukapu a few miles away to leeward. The sight of it set us talking about Bishop Patterson's death. Someone propounded a new theory to account for it which did not find acceptance. We determined to settle the point by calling up a man named Jan, a Nukapu man whom we had on board, and who was in the house when the Bishop was killed. His story was this:—"I was a child then, the size of one of those boys (pointing to some Florida boys, aged about 14). A labour-vessel had called at our village and had carried away by force six or seven men, and had shot one man in the neck so that he died. When the Bishop landed the Nukapu people said to him he must get back the men who had been stolen. But a Pileni man, named Tetule, whose father had been stolen away, and who had himself been struck on the head with an axe so that he still smarted from it, said that the Bishop must die, and he killed him. The Bishop never opened, his eyes, but was struck dead on the spot. The women washed his body, and he was placed on a canoe and floated out. The boat with Joe Atkin had been fired at before the Bishop was killed. The man who struck the blow escaped to the mainland of Santa Cruz where he was hunted about by the people until they shot and killed him," This was Jan's story. Captain Bongard added that when he picked up the body from the canoe the people ran down to the beach in crowds and sent up a ferocious yell. It seems then that whilst one man did the act all accepted it for the moment, and on second thoughts regretted what had been done and drove the murderer away. The story all through the island goes that immediately following the Bishop's death a fearful pestilence broke out through the entire group, people dying of dysentery so fast that the living could not bury the dead, but carried them to the sea shore that the tide might carry them away. This visitation is regarded as having been sent by the white man's God, and in Nukapu the people for a long time begged white men to stay away lest they should be injured and evil come upon the island again.