CHAPTER XXVI.
FIJIAN RIVERS—SAMOAN ENVOYS—DEATH OF A TRUE APOSTLE—A REVIVAL—MAKING A RACE-COURSE—MISSION TO NEW BRITAIN.
SUVA, VITI LEVU, FIJI, _March 26, 1877_.
MY DEAR NELL,—Once more we are safely back in the isles. We came from Auckland in the Zealandia—a noble vessel, upwards of 3200 tons. You can imagine how horrible was the change when she dropped us at Khandavu, and we found only the Barb, a wretched little ketch of about 35 tons (the best vessel poor Fiji had to send), and which was first to bring us here, and was then to return to take the other passengers and the mails to Levuka. We might well say “bad is the best,” for this, which at present is _the_ Government ship, has no accommodation of any sort for ladies.
Fortunately we landed on a lovely day, and quite enjoyed our row up the harbour, whence we walked across the isthmus to the opposite bay, where the Barb was anchored. It is a lovely coast, with white sand and many shells, and thickly fringed with palms. We lunched on the shore, and then embarked. We had hardly set sail when it commenced to rain heavily. The tiny cabin was so stuffy that it seemed hard enough to condemn even the children to stay in it. They and their nurse had a miserable night of sickness. For ourselves, we considered a drenching to be the lesser evil of the two, so when night came on, we lay down on the deck with no awning and the rain pouring, while gusts of wind periodically blew our umbrellas inside out. The gentlemen, saturated and miserable, did their best to be cheery, and occasionally came round to offer us creature comfort in the way of bits of chocolate and biscuit, or a very needful nip of brandy or claret. So the long night wore through. At daybreak we were off Suva, but the mist was so dense that it was nearly noon before we could distinguish the passage through the coral reef, and run into harbour. You can imagine how glad we were to see the barge, and the gig with the nice Fijian boatmen, all so pleased to welcome us back; and soon we were comfortably housed in Mrs Joski’s pleasant home. (Nasova is, as usual, undergoing re-thatching.)
Having landed us, the Barb returned to Khandavu to fetch the mails and the other passengers (including two ladies and a baby). Though the accommodation there was wretched enough, it must have been Paradise compared with what followed. For five days and nights they lay becalmed in pouring rain ere they reached Levuka! Such are the pleasures of travelling in Fiji! And yet its beauty atones for many discomforts; and the lovely days, when they do come, make up for all the rainy ones. And I do feel so glad once more to see canoes with quaint sails, and graceful living bronzes with artistic drapery. What a country this would be for an artist studying figure painting! The people love to see themselves on paper, and will sit as still as a rock for hours to be sketched. It is lamentable that such good models should be wasted.
We had only been here one day when a messenger came from Nasova to say that a vessel had arrived from Samoa bringing a deputation of chiefs, representing the various conflicting parties there, who had come to discuss the subject of British protection, and to see for themselves how it is working in Fiji. So Sir Arthur, escorted by Mr Maudslay, went off to receive them.
I think I have already told you that this is the spot which the Home Government has just selected as the site of the future capital. Great is the howl of dismay raised by the householders of Levuka at the idea of the change; but there is no immediate prospect of a serious migration from there, for as yet there are only four houses here. From this verandah we have a lovely view of the harbour and the beautiful mountain-ranges, seen through festoons of large-leaved _granadilla_, the great passion-flower, which at present is loaded with ripe fruit as big as a small pumpkin. These we eat with milk and sugar, and find them excellent. We have had some charming expeditions by boat and canoe, the latter being available in many places where we cannot take the boats.
Nothing can exceed the loveliness of some of the many rivers which flow into Suva harbour, none too wide to admit of full enjoyment of the rich tropical foliage which clothes their banks, overhanging the stream, and sometimes mirrored on the clear waters. Delicate and beautiful creepers of every conceivable pattern, assuming forms more or less akin to our own Virginian creeper, convolvulus, and ash, only in infinite variety and luxuriance, blend their foliage one with another in inextricable confusion, and together overspread the tall trees, thence falling in long veils as of dripping leaves. Verily these green things of the earth are things of beauty. Loveliest of all is a climbing fern which the natives call the _Wa kolou_, or god fern,[55] and with which they make garlands either for their own shoulders, or to twine round the ridge-pole of their houses. And nowhere have I seen tree-ferns in greater abundance than here. You come upon banks so densely clothed with them that you distinguish no other form. Still it is hard to get reconciled to the wholesale destruction of so much beauty, which results from the use of the stem for ordinary purposes, such as making fences and supports for the interior of houses. Multitudes of wild duck haunt these quiet streams, and tantalise the sportsman by falling wounded, with just life enough to dive; and if only they can reach the tangled roots of the mangrove, they are never seen again.
One day Adolphe Joski rowed me up the lovely Tama Vua river to see a village perched on a high crag. We landed, and climbed up a rock-stair, which was like the stairs of a dozen cathedral towers heaped one above the other, and as slippery as ice—rather a difficult approach to one’s home! Yet in this eyrie we found several families with their little ones, apparently perfectly content with their quarters. According to custom, the graves of the village are on a point still more difficult of access, in order that they may be safe from the desecrating hands of foes. Of course, the position of both village and graves tells of the days of war and cannibalism. Already some of the people have come down to a more convenient level; and we halted at a village near the river, and rested in the house of a fine old chief, whose fireplace and great black cooking-pots I sketched, while his graceful daughter sat by, watching my work, and peeling ripe delicious oranges, with which she fed me, while my companion talked to the old chief.
Another day we all went to a neighbouring village to see Andi Clara, who is the nicest Fijian lady we know, and has such a pretty new brown baby. Last year’s baby has grown quite beautiful. It is Lady Gordon’s god-child, and called after her, Andi Racheli.[56] I halted that afternoon, to sketch in the sugar-cane fields; but the position proved bad for the arts, as my escort never ceased peeling canes, and administering small juicy pieces, which, though irresistible, were decidedly sticky.
One day last week I started alone at daybreak to sketch a group of beautiful peaks; some points in the range are upwards of 4500 feet in height: my path lay through the deserted sugar-fields, where the cane is now left to run wild. Though useless for commerce, it is sufficiently luxuriant to reach far above my head, and that morning I found it dripping from the previous night’s rain. Of course I was soon soaked, and had enough to do to keep my paper dry. Following a faint old native track, I got into a glen full of dark _eevie_ trees (the Fijian chestnut tree). I pushed on, passing occasional patches of cultivation, yam and _taro_, thinking that where these were, I must find my way all right. Then I came to a limpid stream, overshadowed by a shaddock-tree, loaded with great ripe fruit, like huge oranges, pink inside; so I rested and ate shaddock, and then started afresh. Soon I lost all trace of the track, and I could scarcely force my way through the dense reedy grass, which is eight or ten feet high, and all matted with convolvulus. Whichever way I turned, up hill or down, it was all the same weary waste of tall reeds; and if by chance I found an old _taro_ patch, there remained no sign of any path. At last I concluded that I was really lost, and shouted till I was tired, hoping that some villager might have come to dig his yams; but no voice answered. Then I bethought me if only I could strike the glen again, I could scramble along in the bed of the stream till I hit the track; and at last I happily did so, and got home pretty well tired out, as you can imagine.
* * * * *
BAU, _April 29, 1877_.
After ten days at Suva it was decided that the whole party should return to headquarters at Nasova without waiting for the completion of the thatching, though it does cause a confusion and a hubbub all about the place. So we started—ourselves in a large new boat, the Abbeys in the gig, a third boat with luggage and servants, towing the Baron’s canoe, and two beautiful cutters (belonging to Mr Maudslay and Captain Knollys) bringing the rest of the household goods. We were thus quite a fleet. Five hours’ sail brought us to Rewa, where we went to see the wife of the chief, Andi Tartilia, who had a small daughter last week. This atom is called “The Lightning of Heaven.” It was handed to me on a tiny mat, very finely woven, and just its own size. It is against all Fijian custom that the child of a chief should leave nursing-arms for the first ten days, so many ladies of rank assemble and relieve guard. Five were sitting together, cuddled up in a huge piece of _tappa_, which was considered necessary to keep the baby warm. The mother lay close to the fireplace, in the middle of the floor, with a blazing fire, and an immense square of handsome _tappa_ thrown over her, covering a space of many yards. This with a thermometer at about 85°!
We came here that same evening, and received our usual cordial welcome from Mr and Mrs Langham. Lady Gordon had arranged to proceed to Nasova the next day, but I gladly accepted an invitation to stay here a few days. I was all the better pleased to do so, as the party of Samoan chiefs having had their interview with the Governor regarding British protection, have been sent here for further information from the native chiefs, and of course their reception by the Vuni Valu and his people is a matter of great interest. The chiefs are representatives of the three parties who have been contending for mastery in Samoa, and who now crave the help of the British lion in settling their difficulties. Two of the party talk excellent English, and all are most intelligent. The two ladies are pretty, graceful girls.
A curious piece of old Fijian etiquette was observed on their arrival. The little vessel which brought them from Ovalau had anchored at Bau the night we arrived here. Of course with ten Samoan gentlemen and two ladies on board so small a craft, the pleasure of getting ashore would have been very great. But this could not be dreamt of. Not till the following morning, when the Vuni Valu sent messengers to _swim_ off to them, with whales’ teeth and other gifts, and invite them to land, could they do so. Then they came ashore in great state, all very handsome chief-like men, dressed in heavy drapery of the thickest hand painted _tappa_. They were received by the Fijian chiefs, and conducted to Thakombau’s house, where there was a great ceremonial drinking of yangona.
In the evening we went to call in due form on the Samoan ladies, and found them at the house of the king’s son, Ratu Timothy, and his pretty Tongan wife. Of course the great wooden yangona-bowl occupied a central position, and the party lay in picturesque groups on the mats all round. To-morrow they are all to be taken an expedition up the Rewa, to show them something of the country, the sugar-mills, &c.
This evening I have been a lovely expedition with Mr Langham, up one of the beautiful little rivers on the mainland, to the village of Na Ooa Ooa. The stream gradually narrowed as we ascended, and we glided on beneath overhanging trees, in and out between old mangroves, which dropped their strange weird roots into the stream from a height of fully twenty feet. As we returned late in the evening to the river’s mouth, the clouds on the horizon were fiery as if at sunset, and the red moon rose from the sea like a ball of molten gold, casting long gleaming reflections on the still waters.
Late as it was, on our return we went to see dear old Joeli Mbulu, the noble old Tongan minister of whom I have often spoken to you. Alas! his work is wellnigh finished. He is greatly changed this week—wasted to a shadow; but his face is perhaps more beautiful than ever, from its sweetness of expression and the bright look which at times lights it up,—just like some grand old apostle nearing his rest. He is very tall and stately, with a halo of white hair and long grey beard. His skin is very fair, like that of all the Tongans and Samoans. Generally he wears only his long white waist-cloth, almost to the feet, which are bare, and folds of native cloth round his loins. He has been a Christian teacher in Fiji for the last thirty years—that is, from the beginning—amid noise and tumult of war, and in the thick of all the devilry of cannibalism. He has been the old king’s special teacher,—and many a difficult day he has had with him and all his handsome, strong-willed sons and daughters. They are all very much attached to him; and some of them are generally with him now, fanning or just watching beside him.
There is no doubt that his magnificent physical development has tended to increase his ascendancy over a race which naturally looks up to one whose stature at once proclaims him to be _tamata ndina_ (a man indeed). That such he is, is testified by the deep scars on one arm, which tell of such a triumph, and such power of endurance, as no Fijian living can boast of.
Many years ago, he had a dream about an encounter with a shark. This so haunted him, that for many days he refused to swim, as was his wont, in the deep water near the mouth of the river. At length, yielding to the persuasions of other bold swimmers, he ventured in, and was far ahead of his companions, when suddenly he beheld the monster of his dream coming straight towards him. There was not a moment for hesitation. As the cruel jaws opened, he plunged his arm down the throat of the shark, and, grasping its tongue by the root, held it firmly, while with the other arm he swam towards the shore, dragging the brute after him. As he reached the bank he fell down in a dead faint from exhaustion and loss of blood; but his wounds were speedily dressed, and the arm recovered almost all its power.
* * * * *
BAU, _May 6, 1877_.
The Samoan party returned last Thursday, much pleased with all they have seen. Next day the annual “missionary meeting” was held here, when, as you know, the people of the district assemble to bring their contributions for the support of the mission, and each village exhibits its favourite dance. On this occasion, one descriptive of catching a hundred fish had been specially ordered for the amusement of the Samoans, and was particularly good, as was also a fan dance. Then the ladies of Bau, headed by the old queen and her daughter, and all the young ladies of noble birth, sang a very fine _méké_, with appropriate stately gestures; and very well they looked,—all alike wearing the little white jacket, with low neck and short sleeves, and a fringe of bright yellow banana-leaf, torn into strips, round the waist, over their skirts of native cloth.
As a study of colour, I specially noted one stalwart fellow wearing a garland of these golden leaves thrown over his madder-brown shoulders, and a gauzy film of sienna-coloured smoked _tappa_ over his hair, and folds of creamy-brown _tappa_ round the waist. He stood in relief against a clear blue sky—a study for an artist.
On the following day, the Vuni Valu had ordered the people of four towns on the mainland to come over and perform a great _méké_ in honour of his guests, assembling as usual on the _rara_—_i.e._, the village green. They came, very elaborately dressed. First two hundred marched up, one hundred bringing rolled-up mats, and one hundred bearing _taro_, to be laid as offerings at the strangers’ feet. Other dancers brought sugar-canes and divers gifts. The first two hundred then stood up in double line facing us, one line constantly advancing and retreating under the arms of the others. This was exceedingly graceful. Their dress was almost uniform, most having very handsome large neck ornaments of carved shell. The measured hand-clapping was so regular that it sounded like one pair of hands each time.
Then came a second company, bearing gifts of yams and pottery, which they added to the first heap. They also performed a very graceful dance like an elaborate ballet. This done, Thakombau formally presented the property to the Samoans, whose principal attendants proceeded to _count the amount given_, and return thanks for so many articles. Then two of the party arose (they were all dressed in kilts of rich brown native cloth, with necklaces of large red berries and green leaves). These two then performed an extraordinary dance, which greatly astonished the Fijians. They capered wildly round and round the _rara_ like a pair of spinning-tops, twirling a club round their head, and springing into the air in most wonderful style,—throwing the club up and catching it again. The Vuni Valu, who was looking on with intense interest, recognised this ceremony as an ancient Fijian form of accepting an offering.
These Samoans are very handsome men, and their skin is a clear olive colour. In dancing so energetically, their kilts of native cloth very naturally became disarranged, and revealed complete knee-breeches of the most elaborate close tattooing. I wonder whether the _woad_ of our own ancestors was as artistically put on!
They then proceeded to touch each offering, and next touched the crown of their head in token of acceptance. One of their party now made a speech, which their interpreter repeated to the Vuni Valu, after which they divided the spoil—apportioning gifts of food to the mission and to each house of note in Bau, and reserving the mats and pottery as their own share. Of course their daily food is given to them ready cooked.
After the dances they came up to tea here, sitting at the table in most orthodox style, and were much amused looking at coloured stereoscopes. They were also delighted because a lady who is staying here played all the liveliest tunes she possibly could induce the harmonium to give forth; and they joined in singing “Home, sweet Home,” and similar old airs, which seemed familiar to them,—and, moreover, they sang them quite in tune, which I cannot say for most Fijians.
In the evening we were all invited to join the party at the old king’s house. While waiting our summons we sat in the clear moonlight under the great Mbaka trees among the huge grey stones, which were formerly the foundation of the principal heathen temple, and the scene of many a bloody sacrifice. Now all was still and peaceful; for it was the hour of evening prayer, and each family was assembled in its own home for a few moments of quiet worship. Close by was the house in which lay dear old Joeli, fast passing away from the scene in which he has so steadfastly worked to bring about this great change.
After a while the old chief sent to fetch us. We found him and his family seated on the mats in a semicircle—his guests in another semicircle facing him, and all the retainers crouching round. We were placed on mats at the upper end and the great wooden yangona-bowl stood opposite. This night the nectar was to be brewed by the Samoans, and we watched with interest to see wherein their customs in preparing their national drink differed from those of Fiji. In the first place, there were no songs during the process of chewing, which I regretted, as I delight in the wild measured chants which invariably accompany the yangona-brewing of Fiji, where there are special songs and distinct varieties of hand-clapping for each stage of the proceeding. Here, too, no woman touches the bowl.
The Samoan girls not only helped in chewing, but one of them strained the mixture in the great wooden bowl through the hybiscus fibre, and most gracefully she did it. She had put off her heavy necklace of large scarlet berries, and wore only a white _sulu_ with fringe of green leaves, and a scarlet hybiscus in her rich sienna hair. It was a pretty picture. But the old king could scarcely conceal his contempt at the idea of seeing a woman deputed to such an office. It was not _vaka Viti_, he said—that is, not according to Fijian custom. A Samoan attendant, wearing only a _liku_, or kilt fringe of green leaves, carried round the cocoa-nut cup which the girl filled for each drinker, while a herald proclaimed the name of each in his social order. The name of a very high chief was whispered almost inaudibly, while that of his messenger was shouted. There was none of the measured hand-clapping so essential in Fiji while a chief is drinking, and when he has finished. In Samoa only the drinker himself claps his hands on returning the cup, which he hands back, instead of skimming it across the mat, _vaka Viti_.
The chiefs had already held a great discussion on the state of affairs in their respective countries, and their inability to protect themselves against the wicked machinations of scheming white men of all nations, without the aid of some civilised Government. Much to our satisfaction, therefore, the old king, weary of talking business, asked the Samoans to let him see one of their dances. They at once consented; and, remarking that the highest chief was the best dancer, four of them agreed to dance, while the others sang and played a sort of accompaniment by clapping hands. At first the four sat on the ground, going through violent action of the arms, and hand-clapping all over their own bodies. They then sprang to their feet and danced a sort of wild Highland fling. Finally, they made most hideous faces at one another, and we agreed it must be a fragment of some old devil-dance. Afterwards they showed us a quieter dance, but it was utterly lacking in the grace of the Fijian _mékés_. The songs were very pretty; some reminded me of wild Gaelic airs, and they were sung in perfect tune, with good seconds.
It was nearly midnight when we left the old king’s house; and hearing that a canoe had arrived from Levuka, we went to the Roko’s house to get our letters. Lady Gordon had sent a parcel of jujubes and acid drops for dear old Joeli, which we took to him. The noble face lighted up as we entered, and he greeted us as was his wont—with holy and loving words. He was perfectly calm, and the grand steadfast mind clear as ever; but it is evident that he is nearing his rest.
To-day it is very hot; there is not a breath stirring. The sea is perfectly calm, and reflects every delicate cloud and distant isle. A canoe starts at daybreak, and will take this letter. So good-bye.
* * * * *
BAU, _May 7, 1877_.
Last night there was great wailing and lamentation in Bau, for soon after midnight Joeli passed away, and died nobly as he had lived. He was quite conscious to the very last, and the expression of the grand old face was simply beautiful—so radiant, as of one without a shadow of doubt concerning the Home he was so near. No man ever more truly earned the right to say, “I have fought a good fight—I have kept the faith;” and none ever was more truly humble. If ever the crown of righteousness is awarded by a righteous Judge to His true and faithful servants, assuredly Joeli will not fail to stand in that blessed company.
This morning we went to look once more on the face we all loved so truly. He looked grand in death as in life, lying on a square of rich black-brown _tappa_, his head pillowed on a large roll of native cloth, his beautiful white hair thrown back as a halo, and his long white beard adding to his patriarchal beauty. Over his feet were thrown two beautifully fine Samoan mats. His poor widow Ekkesa, his pretty grand-daughter, and many other women, and students from the college, were all weeping bitterly, as those who had lost their wise and loving counsellor and guide. The king and all his family also mourn sorely, for Joeli has ever been their true and faithful friend and minister; and many a time has he vainly pleaded with the old chief in the long years ere he could be brought to abandon the vile customs of heathenism. All through Joeli’s illness I have rarely entered the house without finding some member of Thakombau’s family sitting by him, watching his sleep, or fanning him.
According to native custom, the costly Samoan mats and native cloth that lay beneath him and over his feet were buried with him; and had the funeral been simply _vaka Viti_, the body should only have been wrapped in many Fijian mats. But Thakombau, anxious to do all honour to his old friend, wished that he should be buried in a coffin. So as there chanced to be a half-caste carpenter on the island building a boat, he made a coffin with some planks of red cedar wood. He did not get the order till 10 A.M., and the funeral was to start at 3 P.M. Just an hour beforehand it was brought to the mission to be lined and covered, in which work I assisted, and so gained my first experience of undertaker’s business.
The place of burial was a beautiful site near an old church on the neighbouring isle of Viwa. The funeral procession was a very touching one. One large canoe carried the dead and the chief mourners. The old king and his three stalwart sons and two daughters, as also Andi Eleanor, Tui Thakow’s real wife, followed in others; and nearly all the people of Bau, and from many neighbouring villages, came in canoes and boats, making a very great procession. All the principal mourners, including the royal family, wore a piece of coarse old matting, all frayed out, in token of mourning. It is worn round the waist, over the ordinary dress. We made a beautiful great wreath of white jessamine and blue-grey flowers, with an outer wreath of scarlet leaves, and this we laid on the coffin. The grave was upwards of a mile from the shore; and about twenty young teachers—fine young fellows—took it by turns to carry the coffin up a steep hill, and through green forest-glades, to the place of rest. Part of our beautiful funeral service was repeated in the rich Fijian tongue (which to my ear always resembles Italian); and then Joeli was laid beside his old friend and teacher, the Rev. John Hunt, one of the early Wesleyan missionaries, with whom he had shared many an anxious day, and who died here in 1848, at the early age of thirty-six.
I told you about Mr Hunt commencing the mission at Somo Somo. For the last six years of his busy life of earnest work he lived chiefly on this island, where he had established his printing-press; and in the intervals of travelling from isle to isle, in danger, storm, and privation—teaching the people and superintending the schools—he found time to train a large number of native agents, and also to produce and print an admirable translation of the New Testament. If you think of the amount of labour represented in acquiring so very elaborate a language by ear, reducing it to writing, and then translating and printing so large a book, with such rude appliances, and so little help, you will surely conclude that this of itself would have been no light work for one man to undertake. So it was no wonder that this over-willing spirit should have outworn the frail body.
He had his reward in seeing a marvellous change pass over his cannibal neighbours at Viwa. Here (where, five years before, one of the most horribly treacherous massacres which ever disgraced Fiji had been perpetrated, and the bodies of upwards of a hundred poor fishermen deliberately murdered for the ovens of Bau, lay strewn all round the mission premises, where Mr Cross and his family, with the native teachers, had assembled, horror-stricken, but utterly powerless to stay the butchery), Mr Hunt records the story of a general awakening, before which all such revival meetings as we have heard of elsewhere seem pale and colourless. He had instituted special prayer-meetings (penitent meetings they were called) on Saturday evenings, and was struck by the exceeding earnestness which seemed to prevail amongst all present. This was the commencement of a series of meetings held night and morning in almost every house, when, like the men of Nineveh of old, these people, with one accord, humbled themselves in the dust, crying for mercy, with one heart and one voice. These fierce murderers and cannibals seemed suddenly to realise the awfulness of their guilt, and were overwhelmed by the sense of their own wickedness. In deepest contrition they knelt before the God of the Christians, weeping and wailing piteously, pleading for forgiveness, and continuing in such agony of prayer that many of these men—some of them the worst cannibals in Fiji—fainted from sheer exhaustion, and no sooner recovered consciousness than they again began to agonise in prayer till they again became insensible. They had to be literally forced to take necessary food. Those who heard their cry noted its strong earnest sense. They simply bewailed their past wickedness, and implored God’s mercy. This continued for several days, during which business, sleep, and food were almost entirely neglected. But the cry of the people was heard and answered, and soon a strange new peace—the peace that passeth understanding—seemed to pervade the isle. The people that had hitherto sat in darkness now saw a great light, and those who hitherto had been noted only for their evil deeds now became gentle and teachable, and began to lead simple, consistent, Christian lives. Truly, if such a change as this were the sole result wrought by the mission, the lives of Cross, Hunt, Hazlewood, Polglaze, and Baker were not laid down in vain, when one by one they died at their posts from sheer over-work. At least the first four did so. Mr Baker was murdered, as I mentioned in writing from Viti Levu.
We lingered on the beautiful and now peaceful isle of Viwa for some hours, and then returned through the forest and over the star-lit sea, and so back to the landing-place, at which Joeli had so often met and welcomed us; and up the steep steps leading to the mission, past the site of the horrid ovens, where he had so often stood to rebuke the cruel rites that were there enacted. Altogether it has been a very sad day, and the funeral was one of the most pathetic and touching scenes you can imagine.
* * * * *
NASOVA, _May 9, 1877_.
Yesterday morning I started very early with Mr Langham to visit Moturiki, a rich beautiful island with lovely foliage. Our destination was a village called Niu Mbasanga, meaning the “two-headed cocoa-nut,” which we there saw, and which is quite as great a deformity and wonder as a two-headed giant would be. I have only heard of one other palm-tree which has indulged in any freak of growth: that other is on the isle of Ngau, where five stems are said to spring from one root.
We found the people of seven villages assembled for their annual “missionary meeting.” There was the usual conference with the teachers about church matters, and the usual festive manner of presenting the annual offerings for the mission, the people adorned with the accustomed gay wreaths of bright leaves, and dancing joyously as is their wont. They looked happy and picturesque. The dances were excellent, and very varied. Even now, I constantly see something new to me. Yesterday most of the dancers carried huge fans, and were dressed in floating folds of native cloth, with kilt fringe of many-coloured ribbons of _pandanus_-leaf, also floating lightly round them. You cannot think how strange it is to see all the action and grouping of most admirable ballets, with the surroundings of a Fijian village—thatched houses, fine old trees, palms, a few big pigs and a multitude of little pigs roaming at large, and crowds of gentlest savages looking on. We rested at the house of Ratu Ben, a good-looking chief, who urged us to remain; but we were obliged to push on, and sleep at a village further along the coast, as it was necessary to cross the only passage through the reef at high tide, which was at midnight. It was sunset ere we could leave the first village, and of course we were not expected at the next; but the people soon turned out to meet us, and made torches of dry cocoa-palm leaves to light us through the wood. This is always a pretty sight, as the red gleams fall on great plantain or palm leaves, and ferns of every size and shape. As usual, we took possession of one end of the teacher’s house, and the student-boatmen and their friends had mats at the other end. Early this morning we explored the village, which is pretty, and overshadowed by great _eevie_ trees. Then we walked a mile along the shore to the boat, and started to row and sail by turns, keeping inside the main reef all the way. It was a lovely day for a sail, but it was only occasionally that we could venture to hoist one, as the beautiful, but horribly dangerous, coral-patches are very numerous. How you would enjoy such an expedition, looking down at the endless wonders of the corals, and fishes of all hues; and all this as you glide along in perfectly smooth water, inside the great reef, where the white breakers form a wall of dazzling surf—and how they do boom and roar!
We got here at noon, and found all well, except Sir Arthur, who is laid up with a very painful knee: this is particularly awkward just now, as the Samoan party have arrived, and have to be formally received. There is to be a great Fijian _méké_ in their honour; and the native soldiers are now hard at work practising their dances on the green, which greatly distracts my attention, as I cannot resist watching them.
The house has just been rethatched, so it is full of caterpillars; but as there are no biting creatures in all Fiji (except mosquitoes and sand-flies, and a rare centipede), we do not mind the innocent caterpillars. But the thatchers have destroyed all the beautiful festoons of climbing plants which we had trained so carefully over the pillars and verandah before our windows.
There goes the dressing _lali_—_i.e._, a fine deep-toned wooden drum—which is our Fijian substitute for dressing and dinner gong, so I must stop writing. You cannot think how handsome the dining-room now looks. You know it was built as a council-chamber for the old king. Now it is adorned with most artistically-arranged trophies of spears, clubs, bowls, and all Fijian art-work, with richly-designed native cloth as drapery. So everything is well in keeping. Good-bye.
* * * * *
NASOVA, _May 25_.
There has been a wonderful outburst of gaiety, chiefly due to the presence of H.M.S. Sapphire, which has given an unwonted impetus to cricket-matches, lawn-tennis, canoe-races, yacht-races, and all such small amusements as the place affords. But the excitement culminated yesterday, when, in honour of the Queen’s birthday, Levuka had her first race-meeting!—real races! If only you could see the island, you would understand the wonder, especially if you recollect that, when we landed here eighteen months ago, Captain Olive and the butcher owned the only two horses on Ovalau; and Sir Arthur brought out two ponies. As the only place where these could be used was the rough path, about one mile long, between Nasova and Levuka, and the little break-neck paths leading to different private houses, there seemed small reason to import more. It has been done, however, and straightway the Anglo-Saxon colony demanded a race-course. The question was where it could be made; for it was difficult to find a bit of level ground, large enough even for cricket. At last, however, a place has been found, seven miles down the coast, where, by going several times round the course, a fair distance may be run. It has been necessary, however, to wage incessant war against the crabs, which perforate the ground in every direction, and make it extremely dangerous for horses. Notwithstanding all drawbacks, there were half a-dozen races, and three or four horses or ponies entered for each. The jockeys had colours; and Levuka’s first races were most amusing, and voted a great success. The race-course in itself was extremely pretty, being situated on the sea-shore, at the entrance to a fine wooded gorge between high hills. Nearly a hundred boats, cutters and canoes, had arrived from Levuka and along the coast; and Europeans and Fijians formed picturesque groups beneath the cocoa palms and other trees, while a grand stand had been erected for the _élite_. The day was faultless, as beseemed the Queen’s birthday,—and the scene was altogether very pretty, and quite a novel experience for Fiji.
On our way back we went to tea on board the Sapphire, and then there was a large official dinner here, to about fifty people. To-morrow there is to be a regatta of all the boats and cutters belonging to the place, or to the ships in harbour, ending with a great native canoe race. It is sure to be a very pretty sight. We are to lunch on board H.M.S. Reynard, and then go to five o’clock tea on board H.M.S. Sapphire.
* * * * *
_May 30._
Last night Lady Gordon and I went to dine with Mr Mitchell and Mr Eyre, who are living in a purely Fijian house in the native village. They gave us excellent soup, made of young _taro_ leaves boiled in sea-water, with the cream of squeezed cocoa-nut, prawns boiled and curried with cocoa-nut, pigeons, Fiji puddings, and yams and _taro_ served on banana leaves.
Afterwards we sat at the door, watching the full moon rise from the sea, framed by groups of palm-trees; then we walked up to the quiet little cemetery on the hill, where the reedy grasses, shivering in the night-wind, seemed like spirit voices, whispering of those who there rest in peace.
* * * * *
_June 1._
Yesterday we dined on board H.M.S. Sapphire. It savoured of Fiji, that on going down to the pier we found it under repair, and we had to climb down to the boat as best we could. Lady Gordon was carried in her chair to another pier at some distance, to find that also under repair; so she had to climb down after all, and of course we were unpunctual in consequence. The dinner was most _récherché_ (larks stuffed with truffles, &c.), and perfect in every detail, as are also Captain Murray’s lovely cabins. As we rowed back by moonlight the ship burnt blue lights, displaying herself to great advantage.
* * * * *
_June 22, 1877._
This morning I went with Baron von Hügel to breakfast on board the mission brig, John Wesley, with the Rev. —— and Mrs Brown, who are just about to sail for New Britain, taking with them a party of Fijian teachers to reinforce those already settled there. This mission to New Britain and New Zealand is purely Fijian—Mr Brown being the only white man connected with it. At the present moment, when the colonisation of New Guinea is a subject under so much discussion, and the desperate character of its cannibal people acknowledged to be an obstacle which even the thirst for gold does not make men willing to face, it certainly is interesting to know that from Fiji (which has itself so recently received the light of Christianity) has gone forth the first effort which sooner or later will inevitably result in the civilising of these wild tribes; and, to look at it from a mercantile point of view, will open the door first to traders, and then to permanent settlers.
It was, I think, in June 1875 that the idea of this mission was first suggested; and that Mr Brown, after fully explaining to all the native teachers the imminent dangers it involved, asked if there were any among them who would volunteer for the work. The response was most cordial; and nine brave determined men (seven of whom were married, and their wives true helpmeets in this great work) announced their wish to undertake it. On hearing of this, the English Consul considered it his duty to summon these teachers, and lay before them, in glowing colours, the dangers they were about to incur from climate and cannibals, and the almost inevitable fate that awaited them should they persist in their rash determination.
They replied that they had counted the cost, and were ready to accept all risks. One acting as spokesman for all, said: “We are all of one mind. We know what those islands are. We have given ourselves to this work. If we get killed, well; if we live, well. We have had everything explained to us, and know the danger. We are willing to go.” They added that all dangers had been fully set before them by the missionaries, and that they had determined to go, because of their own wish to make known the Gospel of Christ to the people of other isles. Throughout the Fijian Isles the native teachers receive a salary of £10 a-year, and are supplied with food by their scholars. These men resigned all claim to any definite salary. They gave themselves as volunteers, without even the certainty of daily bread, resolved to face whatever hardships might lie before them.
With something more than the zeal of the early saints (for we never hear that they went to live amongst cannibals), this band of brave men set sail in this same mission-brig, the John Wesley.[57] Mr Brown had left his wife and children in New Zealand; and I doubt if he was able to communicate once with them during the two years of his absence. He has now returned to announce that the mission is fairly established. He has been to New Zealand to see his family; and his wife, being a brave little woman, and of one mind with her husband, has resolved to return with him. So they have placed their elder children at school, and are taking only one baby with them; and now they have returned to Fiji to enlist fresh volunteers, and a few days hence they will quietly sail away on their errand of mercy. And though their departure from here will hardly excite a passing comment, there is small doubt that their work will leave an enduring mark on the future history of the Pacific Isles. Mr Brown gave us many most interesting details of all he had seen in New Britain, and of the country and people—none of which I have time to tell you, as the mail closes to-day. Good-bye.
* * * * *
NASOVA, _June 25, 1877_.
DEAR JEAN,—I have just returned from a pleasant three days’ expedition to the island of Wakaya, which is so near here that the wonder is why we have not been there long ago. It is the property of the late American Consul, Dr Brewer, and is one of the best examples of a fairly prosperous estate. Dr Brewer having most kindly placed his comfortable house at our disposal for some days, Captain Stewart, R.E., made arrangements to take another lady and myself across in his little yacht. We had a favouring breeze, and a rough but rapid passage, and arrived in such good time that we were able to start at once to climb a rocky hill, on the summit of which formerly stood a fortified town, which is the chief point of historic interest on the isle. For there was a deadly feud between the people of Wakaya and those of Ovalau, which resulted in the total extermination of the former, who finally took refuge in this stronghold, until, driven to desperation, the chief and his wife together sprang over the cliffs to avoid falling into the hands of their foes.
We wandered all about the beautiful hills, peering over crags and down richly wooded ravines, and from every fresh point obtained exquisite views of the wide calm Pacific Ocean, dotted with many isles. There were ten different inhabited isles in sight, including the two very large ones, and all were bathed in tones of ethereal blue and lilac. As we came back through the forest, we gathered huge pods of a monstrous vine. They were from three to four feet long, and resembled gigantic beans.[58] I have brought them back to convince all gainsayers of the accurate botanical research displayed in the good old story of Jack and the Beanstalk. I mentioned this fact to a midshipman, to whom I have just presented one of my beans, but I fear he thought I was making game of him!
The evening was so lovely that after supper we strolled down to the beach, and sat beside a great bonfire of cocoa-nut shells, the refuse of _coppra_ making. The ruddy glare lighted up the tall palm-trees, mingling with the white light of the full moon; and the little wavelets rippled on the sand, making a pleasant picture. In case you do not know what _coppra_ is, I may as well explain that it is the kernel of the cocoa-nut, which is dried in the sun and thus prepared for exportation to the colonies, where it is subjected to such pressure as to extract the oil. It forms one of the largest exports from the isles. The shells and husks burn with so fierce a flame that they destroy any oven or machine in which they are used as fuel; and though the husk would be valuable for making fibre, it is not considered to pay sufficiently well to make it worth while to import a machine. A rough-and-ready contrivance on a small scale has, however, been started here, where a machine for combing out the fibre is turned by the action of two mules, whose lives are spent in continually walking on a tread-mill. I do not mean to imply that the same animals are incessantly at work!
Next morning Mr Mackay, the overseer (who had already done much for our entertainment, having killed the fatted fowl for supper, and shot a beautiful half-tame peacock for our dinner), now put his Mexican saddle on the donkey, and by turning over a flap, so as to bring both the great stirrups on one side, improvised a very good side-saddle, on which we rode by turns. We passed over wide extents of deserted cotton-fields, formerly under careful cultivation, but abandoned owing to falling prices, and the ravages of hurricanes.
One of the most promising experiments now is coffee-planting. We saw coffee shrubs planted under the shade of cocoa-palms and bread-fruit trees, at an altitude not exceeding seventy to a hundred feet. In both these respects the practice here is at variance with all that I have seen in Ceylon; yet this seems to be bearing an excellent crop, and the example is already being followed on several plantations, and seems likely to prove a success.[59]
At daybreak this morning I got a sketch of the fine old _eevie_ grove, and at noon we started on our return, and arrived here in time for five o’clock tea. H.M.S. Wolverine in harbour.
* * * * *
_July 1, 1877._
This morning H.M.S. Sapphire sailed for Sydney, taking Captain Olive, who returns to England. He purposes, however, to return here and settle as a planter, and hopes to buy part of Wakaya, the island from which we have just returned.
* * * * *
_July 9._
I have had some pleasant expeditions to the reef the last few days, collecting strange beautiful creatures for the children’s aquarium, and also for a series of ruder aquariums—buckets and tubs. But it is unsatisfactory work, for our loveliest creatures will die; and especially we find that to introduce the smallest bit of beautiful coral is fatal—at least, before it is wholly bleached in the sun. And you cannot think how tempting it is to arrange miniature coral gardens of pink, blue, lemon colour, and greenish corals of many different forms, and, if only for one day, to watch the many coloured tiny fish playing among it in a great glass globe. But this inevitably results in our finding most of them dead next morning, whereas if we omit the coral the exquisite fish live for many days.
* * * * *
_July 14, 1877._
We have for some days been very anxious about Dr Mayo (who, you will remember, came out with us). He has been living chiefly at Khandavu, to enforce the quarantine regulations on vessels calling there. A few days ago he was brought to Levuka suffering very seriously from dysentery, and was carried to the hospital. At first he seemed to improve; but clever doctors are apt to prove bad patients, and the present instance has been no exception. He became rapidly worse, and it has been decided that his only chance of recovery lies in immediate change to the colonies; so he was carried on board the Lyeemoon, which sailed for Sydney to-day.[60] Mr Mitchell also started. He goes to Calcutta to make arrangements about providing coolie labour for Fiji. He hopes to be able to look after Dr Mayo, but is himself suffering severely from fever. Dr Mayo’s English servant came to him from Savu Savu on hearing of his illness, but he made him return at once to take care of his little island, with the unfinished house and the shrubs, which he has imported with so much care.
* * * * *
_July 20, 1877._
We have been revelling in the most heavenly weather. But as the thermometer has been down to 67° Fahr., a thing almost unprecedented in the tropics, of course every creature, white and brown, has got cold, cough, influenza, and we are all shivering in our English winter clothes. I have been suffering from my very first experience of Fijian sores, which are the curse of the land. I was on the reef catching the most exquisite tiny fish for the aquarium—pale-blue, dark-blue, bright-green, bands of black and white, but especially gold, with sky-blue collar—when, incautiously slipping my hand under a rock ledge, a horrid great sea-eel, called the _dabea_, which lives in the coral, darted out and tried to swallow my little finger. Happily it failed to bite it off, and I was able to drag back my hand, but it bled very much. I came home at once and soaked it in salt and brandy for fear of poison—a painful but efficacious remedy. I think the finger is going on all right.
The wonder to me is that we do not hear of more frequent accidents, considering the manner in which the unshod natives are for ever walking on the reef, or swimming round ledges haunted by dangerous biting and stinging sea-beasts. The worst accidents I have heard of lately happened on the isles of Lakemba and Cicia.
At the former a girl was diving for clam-shells, and seeing a very large one wide open, she extended her arms intending to encircle it, and so attempt to raise it. But missing her aim, she plunged her hand into it, instead of beneath it. In an instant it closed, and she was held prisoner (you know a clam is a strong dentated bivalve, sometimes of enormous weight). Her companions wondered at her staying below so long, and at last dived in search of her, and found her dead body.
The other sad accident happened at Cicia, where a girl was on the coral-reef catching crabs and other treasures of the sea, and incautiously slipped her hand into a hole in the rock. By no possible means could she succeed in drawing it out again. Her companions were utterly unable to help her, and there the poor girl was kept, while gradually the tide rose and closed over her, and she too was drowned. Imagine the horror of feeling the tide slowly but steadily creeping up, and awaiting a certain death.
I hope to see this isle of Cicia (pronounced Thithia) next week, as I have just made arrangements for a visit to the Windward Islands, which are the most easterly of the many groups into which the 223 Fijian isles naturally divide themselves. The two chief points of attraction are Loma Loma, which is the capital of the great Tongan chief, Maafu, and the isle of Mago, which is the pattern plantation of Fiji, and is the exclusive property of Mr Ryder and his six sons, who all live on the island, and themselves attend to every detail of their own business, with the happy result, that throughout the most troublous times they have never ceased to flourish. Every one tells me that my ideas of Fiji will be most incomplete till I have seen Mago, and also Nandi, on Viti Levu. So the first omission is now to be rectified, and the second as soon as occasion presents itself. Accordingly next week, when Mr Ryder returns home, I am to accompany him, and see various places of interest on the way.
I am sitting under the shadow of a tall group of plantains. Now the sun has set, and I am writing by moonlight, sitting on the grass, which in such cold weather is scarcely prudent. So good night.