CHAPTER XXVII.
VARIOUS PLANTATIONS—CROTONS—FOREIGN LABOUR—GREEN BEETLES—LOMA LOMA—A TONGAN COLONY—HOT SPRINGS.
ON BOARD THE BLACK SWAN, _July 28, 1877_.
You see our fortunes are once more looking up.
We have a steamer again!—an old tub recently chartered by Government for this interinsular service. We left Levuka two days ago, and ran across to the island of Koro, which we did not reach till sunset, so dared not risk going inside the reef to collect produce, and merely lay to, while a boat rowed ashore with the letters. By this time there was rather a heavy sea on, and before we reached the green shores of Taviuni it was very rough indeed. Our party included several of the most successful planters of the group, Mr Ryder, Mr Richardson, and Mr M’Evoy. After breakfast we reached Selia Levu, a large sugar and maize plantation belonging to Messrs Richardson and Elphinston.
Here we landed, and were most hospitably entertained. The invariable blessed hot tea-pot having dissipated a savage headache, born of steamboat, and generally restored life, I was able thoroughly to enjoy a long walk over the estate, through flourishing fields of sugar and maize, and was duly instructed in the mysteries of the sugar-mills. I had already been initiated into these, when on a visit to Mr Elphinston’s sister, Mrs Pillans, at Savu Savu. There was a great quantity of produce to be shipped, and for some reason the punt could not be floated, so it all had to come off in small boat-loads, which detained us till 10 P.M. After sunset it rained heavily, which cannot have improved the sugar.[61] Early this morning we passed Vatu Vara, a small lonely island, which is the chosen home of an American, Mr Thompson, and a Tahitian wife. They have adopted several Tongan children, and have only one labour-boy, who goes mad regularly every full moon. Formerly they had three foreign labour-boys, but two of them died of the measles, and have not been replaced. This Robinson Crusoe is said to have considerable capital, so I suppose he really chooses this existence for pleasure!
We next reached Cicia (pronounced Thithia), where Mr M’Evoy has two flourishing properties, eight miles apart. He had a good deal of cargo to ship, but the weather was so rough that it was as much as he could do to unship what he had brought with him. So our time ashore was very much curtailed, which I greatly regret, this being by far the most attractive plantation I have seen. Everything is so beautifully kept—so clean and tidy in every respect, indoors and out. I have seen nothing like it in Fiji. It was pleasant to see how delighted all Mr M’Evoy’s men looked when they saw him return; and he had a pleasant word for each, by name. He had several on board with him, who, having been sent back to Levuka as time-expired labour, had re-engaged themselves to him; and his kindness to them during the voyage had already given me a pleasant impression of the relations of master and servant.
The island is very pretty—high grassy hills and deep valleys, richly wooded; a palm-fringed shore, and five Fijian villages. At one end of the isle there are high wooded crags. Mr M’Evoy’s own house is at the further side of the isle. That where we landed is the home of Mr Borron, the Scotch overseer. The house, like everything about the place, is a rare model of cosiness, with its books and pictures, and a lovely nosegay on the table.
Equally marked is the care bestowed on every detail out of doors,—the comfortable quarters provided for the foreign labourers—men and women having good quarters quite apart, instead of herding together like pigs, as they are often compelled to do. Moreover, a comfortable hospital—a large clean house—is provided for the sick—one for men and another for women—each divided into several wards, with tidy raised beds, and standing apart in a nice cheery garden. I thought of some of the slovenly discomfort I have seen elsewhere, and marvelled why similar care was not more common. The men and women here, really have a chance of improving by contact with the superior race. We went through the cotton-ginning establishment, where, as a matter of course, everything was in apple-pie order.
This estate is chiefly laid out in cotton; but for once the beautiful has not been wholly forgotten in the lucrative. The same good taste, which is evident in all details, has planted most rare and valuable crotons along the broad paths which intersect the cotton-fields. These and other ornamental shrubs are also carefully cultivated in every available corner. Mr Borron himself brought some beautiful crotons from the New Hebrides, which seem to produce some of the most exquisite varieties of these strange lovely shrubs, which there and in Rotumah attain the size of small trees.
I believe some members of this large and very varied family are to be found in each group of the Pacific,—indeed the large silvery-leaved tree with fragrant blossoms, which we know in Fiji as the candle-nut tree, forms a prominent feature in the foliage of all the tropical isles I know, including Ceylon. The variety, both of colour and pattern of leaf, exhibited by these plants is truly wonderful. In most cases the leaf is tough and glossy. In some species it is broad and large, in others a mere strip. Sometimes the strip is spiral, and in other cases is divided across the middle so as to form two leaves, connected by a short stem. As concerns colour, the crotons are of every hue that it is possible for foliage to assume. Some are vivid scarlet, some pure crimson, others richest claret colour. Then come all shades of golden-yellow and pale primrose, and every tint of green, from the most delicate to the darkest, as well as greens shaded with chocolate or maroon. In short, their beauty and variety seem to be without limit, and new specimens are constantly brought from the isles near the equator. Mr Thurston, the Colonial Secretary of Fiji, has devoted much care to collecting all the most beautiful kinds, many of which he himself discovered in Rotumah and other far-away isles. His garden at Levuka positively glows with the gorgeous colour of some of these; and from his own most valuable collection he generously sends ample cuttings to friends and botanists in all parts of the world.
Now we are off the isle of Mago (which you must pronounce Mango), and are just going ashore. As seen from the sea, it certainly is very pretty, having a coast of steep cliffs and dense wood. I believe it differs from all other isles in the group, in that the whole centre is one great plain, admirably suited for cultivation, which accordingly is here carried to perfection. We have just passed a small isle devoted to grey rabbits,[62] and another haunted by flying-foxes.
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MAGO, _Saturday Evening_.
We landed at Moruna,—a pretty bay, with a pleasant house and garden, which is the home of two of the brothers. Thence a two miles’ muddy walk towards the centre of the isle brought us here to the principal house, where we were welcomed by Mr and Mrs Ryder, their daughter Amy, and three more sons, all cordial and kind. The sixth son, Mr Thomas Ryder, has lately gone to Sydney with his wife and children, and I am most comfortably ensconced in their nice large room. At the present moment, the youngest son, a bright unaffected young fellow, is himself bringing up my luggage in his tiny punt, by some creek which I have as yet failed to discover. Tea has just been announced, and the letters must go back to the steamboat. So good-bye for the present.
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_Sunday Evening, July 29._
We have had a pleasant idle day, and have just come in from a long walk, which has given me a good general idea of the place. The house itself is bowered with honeysuckle and roses, and the air is scented with orange blossoms from the trees planted near. A hedge of bright scarlet hybiscus separates the garden from the cotton-fields, and its gay blossoms decorate many of the quaint shaggy heads of the foreign labour. Just round the house the land is all under cultivation, but there are many charming pieces of natural wood left untouched; and in every available corner, fruit-bearing trees are planted. Lime-trees in abundance, bread-fruit and shaddock, date-palm and cocoa-nut, patches of banana and _papaw_, and broad fields of maize, yams, _taro_, and sweet potato,—for the multitude which have to be daily fed is very great, and the island depends upon its own produce. Whether the date-palm will bear fruit in this latitude is a question as yet unsolved; but a considerable number of young trees have been raised, and promise well. Coffee also thrives; and even the cotton-fields of Mago flourish as of old. Indeed among all the vicissitudes that have so sorely depressed and temporarily ruined trade in Fiji, this plantation has been uniformly prosperous,—a condition ascribed chiefly to the exceeding care bestowed on it by its large family of owners.[63]
In the course of our walk we passed over a good deal of grassy land, fragrant with lilac orchids, not unlike those of England. Then we wandered up a sheltered valley, planted entirely with fine bread-fruit trees. It is enclosed by high wooded cliffs, and is a delightfully shady retreat from the heat of the noonday sun. Here we explored a cave in which the natives used to conceal their dead, and near it was a favourite spot for cannibal feasts in olden days.
This isle of Mago was formerly tributary to Somo Somo, the chiefs and people of which, as I have already told you, were noted throughout Fiji for their exceeding ferocity. When Christianity first began to make progress among the inhabitants of Mago, they were subjected to fierce persecution for their faith, as were also the people of the great isle of Vanua Mbalavu (the Long Land), which we see from here. As usual, however, the converts stood firm, and their numbers rapidly increased, notwithstanding the cruelty of the Somo Somo chiefs.
Now Maafu, the Tongan chief, reigns supreme at Loma Loma, the capital of Vanua Mbalavu (though now, of course, subject to England); and Mago belongs exclusively to the Messrs Ryder, the chiefs having agreed to sell the whole island, and remove the population bodily. Consequently no Fijians now remain here, and the island is worked by about 300 foreign labour—wild-looking men, gathered from all the most uncivilised groups near the Equator—the Tokalau, Marshall, and Gilbert Isles, Solomon Isles, Tanna, New Hebrides, and many another far-away home—the most motley group you can conceive, but many of them intelligent and hard-working. In apportioning their quarters, the different nations seem to keep quite separate, and a certain number have wives and families.
They stop work early on Saturday, and are allowed perfect liberty to spend the afternoon and the whole of Sunday as they please. They have free leave to roam all over the island in search of game, or to take out the canoes and fish on the reef. Of course they do not fail to avail themselves of so good an opportunity of adding to their rations, to say nothing of indulging their natural love of sport. There is an immense number of wild pigs on this isle, the descendants of imported pigs which have run wild in the bush. So a regular hunt is organised every Sunday morning, and to-day the sportsmen returned in triumph, having bagged thirty pigs, and they are now preparing a grand feast.
I have been inquiring as to the truth of stories we have heard of the way in which the men of the New Hebrides catch sharks. I am told it is strictly true—that they actually dive below the shark, and, in so doing, slip a noose round its tail, then rising to the surface, haul it ashore by main force. Certainly these men are almost as much at home in the sea as on land.
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MAGO, _August 3_.
We have had several days of incessant rain, and all the lowlands are flooded. At last this morning it cleared just a little, and I determined to secure a sketch of the lovely little inner harbour, which is so curiously enclosed by two encircling arms of wooded cliff, that there is literally only just room for a boat to sail in. Once inside, there she lies safe in the wildest storms, with water four fathoms deep—the snuggest berth you can possibly conceive, and a quiet refuge for a multitude of wild duck, which find safe breeding-ground in the mangroves which fringe the shore, and the roots of which form an oyster-bed. One of the theories concerning this curious island (which is shaped somewhat like a flat dish, with a high rim of coralline rocks enclosing the level arable lands), is, that it was originally an _atoll_—that is, a coral ring enclosing a sea-lake—and that the whole having been upheaved by volcanic action, the waters of the lagoon burst this narrow passage through the encircling rock, and so drained the central plateau. Looking down on the scene from any high point, this theory very naturally suggests itself, and is further supported by the presence of crags of the hardest igneous rock, which appear to have been forced up through the original coral.
As a desirable sketching-ground, I had noted a high point on the wooded crag above the bay, from which I was certain the view must be splendid. The difficulty was to reach it. However, two of my hosts agreed to escort me, and took with them two New Hebrides men, who helped to clear a track, and open up the view, which was most lovely, overlooking not only the blue harbour, with its setting of rich foliage and crag, but the coral reefs beyond it, and the far-away land of Loma Loma. I contrived to perch on a very uncomfortable rock, made up of hard spikes, and secured my drawing, while my companions went beating about the rocks till they started a wild sow with five young ones. The New Hebrides men gave chase; they caught two little pigs alive, and carried them home rejoicing. One of these men has his hair dressed in a series of hard round balls the size of a large orange, which look just as if he had plastered them with pitch; while on the crown of the head the hair stands up in a wild fuzz, in which he wears a long wooden comb.
As we were coming down the hill, we came on a marvellous swarm of metallic blue-and-green beetles, with heads and underside golden,—just the same insect as our ladybirds. I have found these in all corners of the earth, and in every variety of colour, but nowhere have I seen anything in the slightest degree resembling this swarm. The beetles hung in dense clusters on palm-fronds and stems, on the vines hanging from tree to tree, and on both sides of every leaf, so that not one atom of green could be seen. The palm-trees seemed dressed in coats of mail of shining blue steel; and the vines were like solid ropes of emeralds and sapphires, with golden setting, the gold being the head of the ladybird. There must have been many millions of these living gems, for they covered a space of nearly half an acre in the forest, which truly suggested some wonderful tale of fairyland, with real fairy jewel-trees, where, instead of stupid dead minerals, the gems are all alive, ready to fly away from covetous human touch. They were in such dense masses that the shrubs were quite weighed down by them, and when we shook a bough to make them fly off, it sprang up quite light. They did not seem to be doing any harm. Certainly it was a very pretty glimpse of fairyland. I have brought down a number of the living sapphires, hoping to preserve them, alive or dead.
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_August 12._
It has gone on raining almost without intermission, and everything is damp and mildewed. The fresh supply of new drawing-paper I got just before starting is one mass of mildew. The clothes hanging up on pegs feel quite clammy: even the handle of my umbrella is covered with green mould. We cannot go one step out of the verandah without picking up pounds of mud on our feet. I am told that for the last three months there has been literally no rain, and loads of fruit of all sorts. Now there is no fruit, but any amount of rain; so I am unlucky. But we are very cosy and happy indoors, and my only regret is not being able to explore the many pretty spots on the isle.
I managed to get back to the gem-mine in the enchanted forest. There I found the fairy jewels as thick as before, still clustered in dense swarms on every leaf and stem. On the same hill I found four kinds of land-snails, two of which are new to me. Two of my hosts are keen naturalists, and have shown me many things of interest—animate and inanimate. All the brethren are as busy as bees from morning till night, personally overseeing the work of their 300 men. No wonder their estate prospers.
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_August 18._
At last the clouds have relented, and we have had several days of glorious weather. I have been taken to see and to sketch magnificent old Fiji banyan-trees, on cliffs and in the heart of the forest. And one evening there was a muster of the foreign labour for my benefit. We went to their quarters to see them all dance and make merry. Most of them are hideous, and their dances are strange and uncouth—utterly devoid of grace. Certainly, from an æsthetic point of view, these races are as inferior to those of Fiji, Tonga, and Samoa, as the Australian blacks are to the noble Maoris of New Zealand.
Of course the poverty which induced these people to forsake their own homes, and accept a lot of exile and servitude, accounts for their possessing few or no articles of personal adornment; but I noticed one woman from Tanna who had her ears literally covered with tortoise-shell ear-rings—some passed through the others like links, so that she carried fully twenty on each ear. Others had large metal ear-rings, apparently of lead, and of such weight as to drag down the lobe of the ear to a length of several inches. Some women’s ears were actually torn in two by this weight, and the flesh hung in strips—a painful sacrifice to fashion.
Many, both men and women, had devoted great care to their hair-dressing, which was grotesque in the extreme. My especial friend, whose hair was dressed like balls plastered with pitch, seemed nowise remarkable among his quaint neighbours—some of whom had elaborate twists and plaits and rolls, though others left their wild, unkempt shock-heads as rough as uncombed, unbrushed nature could make them.
For many days past we have been waiting and watching for the chance of some means of getting to Vanua Mbalavu, the long blue island which lies on the horizon; but the weather has been so stormy that we have not seen a sail, and almost despair of doing so. It would be rather a _fiasco_ to return to Nasova without having seen Loma Loma; but at present it seems likely to be my fate, as the monthly steamer will call here in a few days on her way from Loma Loma to Levuka.
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DALI DONI, VANUA, MBALAVU, _August 21_.
This morning was very rainy and blowy. To our amazement, just after breakfast, a gentleman walked in, having come up from Moruna to say that Mr Hennings had come across from Loma Loma in his little schooner to fetch Miss Ryder and myself. There was no option of delay on account of wind or rain; so we packed at once, and a detachment of foreign labour came up to carry our luggage over the steep muddy hill which lay between us and the anchorage. We found it sufficiently hard work to carry ourselves, so slippery was the ground. The strong gale was in our favour, and the little vessel flew before the wind. Less than two hours carried us from reef to reef, over a distance which often takes many hours, sometimes days. So now we have reached the long island; the little schooner is safely anchored inside the reef, and we are spending a night at this very pretty place—the property of Mr Levick, whose married overseer has given us hospitable welcome.
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LOMA LOMA, _August 24, 1877_.
We left Dali Doni at daybreak, and sailed to Mbalavu, where Mr Hennings has an estate. Here we climbed a steep hill, passing through much luxuriant forest, and some patches of cultivation. From the summit we had a most lovely view of the harbour, which is quite unique, from the multitude of little rocky isles which dot its surface, all densely wooded. But so strongly has the ceaseless wash of the tide marked its level, that it is vain to land on any of these, as the overhanging ledge of rock makes it impossible to ascend at any point. We halted at this beautiful spot long enough to allow me to make a careful drawing of the scene, and then went on to the house of the overseer, where a fine roast turkey awaited us for luncheon. Then down another steep hill, to the beautiful blue sea, of which we caught glimpses, framed by great forest-trees and vines. Here lay the little vessel, with white sails flapping. She had sailed round from the other side of the island, but the wind had fallen, and ere we reached her she was becalmed. So we took the small boat and rowed through a most lovely bay, past richly wooded islands and steep rocky headlands, till we came to the plantation of Mr Vecsey, a Hungarian, married to a handsome Tongan woman, with two pretty, merry children. Here we were most hospitably entertained; but according to custom, the native wife would not sit at table with us, but waited near, and attended to our wants.
In the bright early morning we started to explore the neighbourhood, and when the sun rose high we followed a clear streamlet overshadowed by dark _eevie_ trees, and inhabited by thousands of spiral black shells two inches long, with a very sharp point. I had seen these in collections, but always with the point broken off, and had heard it gravely asserted that this particular shell had always an obtuse end. So it was rather a triumph to find all these, and I carried off a number. On the sunny streamlet floated the fragrant white blossoms of the shaddock, whose boughs, fruit-laden, overhung the water. We gathered branches of the sweet blossoms, and feasted on the huge orange-like fruit—which, however, is of very uncertain excellence, some trees bearing juicy and delicious fruit, while others are very dry, with a flavour of turpentine.
After breakfast (at which we had a capital broth of shellfish, something like cockles, boiled with rice) we once more embarked with a light breeze, and in the afternoon arrived here. This town, which is spoken of throughout the group as the pattern of order and neatness, is true to its reputation. It is a large, very clean, and tidy village of thatched houses. Slight peculiarities, such as the gable ends being round instead of flat, at once prove them to be the homes of Tongans—_i.e._, colonists from the Friendly Isles.
We were most kindly welcomed by Mr and Mrs Levick to a home, not only comfortable, but with all the graces of ornamental civilisation. In the evening we wandered along the shore in the moonlight, and turned aside to see the Botanic Garden, which is under the especial care of our host, and where the collection of crotons is particularly good.
At early dawn, tempted by the low rippling of the water on the white sea-beach, just beyond the lawn, we ventured on the rare luxury of a sea-bath, in defiance of the sharks; and, encouraged by their non-appearance, we now repeat this indulgence every morning, while troops of pretty brown children disport themselves around us, swimming and diving like fishes. Our hostess has one charming little girl, whose principal ambition is to walk into the sea up to her neck, whenever she has been dressed with the greatest care!
We devoted our first morning here to rowing along the beautiful shores, and exploring many creeks and inlets, which form secure harbours, walled round by overhanging volcanic rock, and dotted with picturesque islands. All are densely wooded, and tempting to explore, but they are so water-worn that we rowed in and out and all round, one after another, for several hours, before finding one place where we could possibly land. At last we discovered a little sandy bay, where we spread our luncheon in the cool shade of glittering leaves, hoping afterwards to make our way to some high point whence we could look down on the scene. We also wished to discover some old native fortifications, which we knew to be perched somewhere far above us. But we failed to discover any track; and the dense growth of tropical vegetation was altogether impenetrable, so we rowed quietly back to a pretty island just facing the town, and there lingered till sunset.
On my return I found that the Lady Eleanor, Maafu’s wife, had, at his bidding, prepared a _mangete_—that is, a feast—for me, which had been sent to the house during my absence; and my host, unheeding native custom, had, most unfortunately, refused to admit it. I was exceedingly annoyed, knowing how dire an insult this would be considered, but persuaded him to accompany me in the evening to Maafu’s house, to call and smooth matters. Properly speaking, notice of our coming should have been sent, and I fear that Lady Eleanor and her ladies were not much pleased at being taken unawares, and _en déshabille_. However, she is a very fine old lady, and we parted excellent friends. Maafu himself had just started for Levuka. He is a splendid man, stalwart and stately; and whenever I have seen him he has always been dressed in native _tappa_, thrown round his waist in handsome heavy folds. He has the proud bearing of his race, for among the Tongans even the common people walk as if they scorn the ground they tread on. Maafu (or the Roko Tui Lau, which is his official title) has ever been noted for the strength of character and vigour of action whereby he secured his position as the great chief of this district.
We heard rather an amusing instance of his shrewdness in dealing with a fanatical sect which most strangely sprang into existence on one of his isles—Matuku. Several men and one woman declared themselves to be angels, and began to hold religious services, and to extract money from their converts, even administering corporal punishment to those who failed to obey their precepts. Their audacity won them many followers, till Maafu arrived in person, and summoned the angels to answer for themselves. The woman brought an angelic baby, whereupon Maafu asked her if it was hers, and if she was married, and if she really thought she was an angel, all which questions she answered in the affirmative. Whereupon he asked her if she couldn’t read her Bible, and referred her to St Matthew to prove that angels do not marry, whereas she had not only married, but had a baby! He dismissed her amid the derision of her late disciples, and, having equally turned the men to ridicule (of all things most dreaded by a Fijian), he sentenced them to work on the roads as rogues and vagabonds, and so the new sect collapsed.
Both Maafu and his wife are stanch supporters of the Wesleyan Church, to which we found our way on Sunday morning at 8 A.M. There had already been a service at 6 A.M., which probably accounted for the attendance being somewhat meagre. The building is of the usual Fijian pattern, with thatched roof and matted floor, and many open doorways,—a style of architecture which is always airy and appropriate; but the ends of the church are circular, after the Tongan fashion. The meeting seemed lacking in the perfect simplicity of a Fijian service; and our tendency to laugh was only conquered by our disgust, on seeing a regular verger, armed with a long stick, who periodically rose from his knees and walked about administering a resounding blow to any young woman who was not doubled up, at what he chose to consider the orthodox angle of devotion; while right in front of the pulpit was placed a bench, on which sat a row of the principal men, all dressed in hideous black coats and trousers, and who (doubtless from the same fear of injuring the latter which so strongly affects white men) never pretended to kneel at all; but the verger took care not to see them, and confined his disciplinarian attentions to the women.
We returned in the afternoon to a service for children, which was pretty, the young voices singing very sweetly.
The spread of Christianity in the groups on this side of the Fijian archipelago has been marked by the same quiet and unobtrusive but most steady advance which has been so strangely characteristic of its work throughout these isles. I told you the story of Ono, where the people, having gathered some dim idea of the Unknown God, induced a heathen priest to offer on their behalf (though not on his own) the first words of Christian prayer uttered on the lonely little isle of Ono, which so quickly became a centre of strength to the mission. As in apostolic days, the converts straightway went forth to make known in other isles the new religion of peace and love. One of these Fijian apostles started, like the others, in his little canoe, and sailed a distance of wellnigh 300 miles, till he reached Oneata, an isle lying about twenty miles to the south-east of Lakeinba, where the first white missionaries had landed, and where Mr Calvert was then living alone, having only arrived in Fiji about a year previously, as yet knowing little of the people or their language, and yet endeavouring, with the help of the Tongan teachers, to establish stations not only in the thirteen towns on the large isles of Lakemba, but also on the twenty-four isles (some 140 miles apart) which form that group. Few indeed were the labourers in so wide a field.
Gladly was the new teacher from Ono welcomed. Soon one of the chiefs of Oneata was convinced of the truth, and himself undertook to persuade others; and so, one by one, new converts were added to the faith, and others would fain have declared themselves, but dreaded the wrath of the king of Lakemba, to whom Oneata was tributary, and who had strictly forbidden any of his people to adopt the new religion. Great was the amazement of all, when a heathen priest arrived, bearing a message from the king, to say that as so many had become Christians, he wished all the inhabitants of the isle would do so, as it was for the good of the people that all should be of one mind!
These men of Oneata were an industrious and enterprising race, singularly independent in character, and much given to trading with other isles. Now each canoe, as it went forth on its ordinary business, became a little mission ship; and the sailors of Oneata seemed never weary of teaching others all that they had learnt, and urging them to adopt the new religion.
Amongst other isles where they were wont to trade was this isle of Vanua Mbalavu, lying about ninety miles to the north of Oneata. Landing here at Loma Loma, their first convert was a chief of the name of Mbukarau, a rough and powerful man, and strong of purpose. Hearing that there were Tongan teachers at Lakemba, he at once got ready his canoe, and sailed thither, a distance of seventy miles, to ask for a teacher for himself and his people. One was sent; and soon they were joined by a little company of nine persons, and these gradually increased to quite a large congregation, and the new converts in their turn went and taught their neighbours at Yaro. Vanua Mbalavu has a population of about 3000 persons, and is divided into two distinct provinces—Loma Loma and Yaro. A cruel war having broken out between these, the Christians of both districts desired to keep themselves clear of it, and appealed to the king of Yaro for permission to settle on the little isle of Munia, where they might continue neutral. This request was granted, and to the astonishment of all, the king of Yaro sent a message to the inhabitants of Munia, recommending them to _lotu_, and to abandon their fortresses in the mountains, and come down to live peacefully with the Christians, on the sea board. So, strange to say, this purely Christian colony was founded by the advice of a heathen king, and soon a new town was built on the most favourable site; its people were permitted to sail wherever they wished, without hindrance, exempt from the dangers and claims of war; and Munia was accounted a sacred city of refuge, where any persons, fleeing from either of the fighting districts, were in safety. So they cultivated their lands in peace, but did not fail in their zealous endeavours to spread the good tidings further and further among the outlying isles. Amongst those whom they thus sought to influence were the people of Thikombia, a rocky island, distant about twelve miles, all the inhabitants of which lived in one town on the top of a high crag, the face of which was a sheer precipice, on the brink of which many generations of children had been reared in perfect safety—no one having ever fallen over. These people heard and believed, and thenceforth from that rocky home the voice of Christian worship arose continually. And so from isle to isle the faith continued to spread, notwithstanding waves of bitter persecution which from time to time were raised by those who continued heathen. We have seen those isles of Munia and Thikombia, but have not been very near them.
Within a short distance of Loma Loma lies a group of hot springs, which, though on a very small scale, are of course interesting. Here, as at Savu Savu, some of them lie actually below high-water mark, but the two principal ones are in a deep gorge—a wilderness of almost inaccessible rocks, hidden by huge fallen boulders and interlacing vines. They must have been discovered by the merest accident, and we needed a good guide to show us where they lay. It was a difficult piece of rock-scrambling, but sufficiently interesting to repay the toil.
I think I have already mentioned that we only know of four places now existing in the group where there is evidence of the internal action of fire—namely, the springs at Savu Savu in Viti Levu, a very hot stream on the western side of the same isle, the boiling springs at Ngau, and these at Loma Loma.
We returned by Maafu’s excellent road, by far the best as yet constructed in the group. A bevy of nice Fijian girls escorted us, and pointed out, with much wonder, a small boat in which a party of Samoans, weary of the strife in their own land, have ventured to come all the way across the sea. It is a sort of whale-boat, stitched with sinnet—_i.e._, native string of cocoa-nut fibre. I do not know the exact distance between the two groups, but it cannot be under 1000 miles. So I think the girls might well wonder at the bold islesmen who ventured on such a journey in a little open boat.
I spent part of the next day in a quiet valley, sketching a native cemetery, with the usual dracæna and other red-leaved plants, and tidy graves, many of which are thickly strewn with small green stones, brought from some distant isle: others are covered over with white wave-worn pebbles or white coral.
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ON BOARD THE BLACK SWAN, _August 30_.
Our departure was rather hurried by the unexpected arrival of the steamer a day before its time. We have retraced the route by which we came, calling at Mago, where Miss Ryder rejoined her family, and at various points in Taviuni, where I had glimpses of several friends, and a pleasant evening at the mission. I have been much edified by hearing the conversation of an Anglo-Fijian of the old type—a man who was not ashamed to entertain his audience with anecdotes of his own kidnapping exploits and those of others, of whom he spoke with much approbation. He referred to the wretched victims as if they had been so many rats. Every such anecdote I hear, makes me wonder less that the actions of such miscreants should have led to reprisals which have resulted in the loss of precious lives, like those of Bishop Patteson and Commodore Goodenough. The speaker went on to boast of other noble deeds by which some of his white friends had lent their elevating influence to the dark races, mentioning one planter especially, Mr L——x, who, finding himself utterly unable to make the rapid fortune he expected by his estate, abandoned it; but ere ridding the country of his presence, he set to work to cut down all the bread-fruit trees (none of _his_ planting!), determined that no one else should profit by what he could not enjoy. Could a more diabolical mind be conceived? Certainly if the establishment of a strong-handed government in the country has no other effect than to drive such men as these out of it, it will not have worked in vain. The speaker seemed ready to favour us with many more anecdotes of the past, but my expression of unmitigated disgust unfortunately stayed the stream, which I now regret, as it is as well to know facts, instead of only the vague rumours, which one is apt to suppose exaggerated, like objects seen looming large through a mist.
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_August 31._
Last night we anchored off Koro, to take in a cargo of arrowroot and other produce. I spent the night with Mrs Chalmers and her daughters, and at six o’clock this morning they brought me on board. Now we are nearing Ovalau, our island home, which, as usual, is looking lovely. The flag flying at Nasova tells me Sir Arthur is at home. There are a good many vessels in harbour, amongst others a large French man-of-war—the first we have seen since we came here. I see the gig coming from Nasova to fetch me, with the cheery bronze crew, in their white and crimson liveries.
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NASOVA, _Sept. 1_.
To-day being the anniversary of annexation, three years ago, is a red-letter day, and public holiday. The races last May were voted such a success, that another race-meeting was held to-day, and a very pretty scene it was, the lovely valley looking its very best. All the officers from the French man-of-war, Le Seignelay, were there, and were greatly amused. Several dined here last night—a pleasant, gentleman-like set. The vessel is at present taking the Roman Catholic Bishop of Samoa, Monseigneur Elloi, on a tour of inspection of all places under his jurisdiction. Both he and Commandant Aube, who is a very fine specimen of the old French school, have been here a good deal, and seem to be very much liked. Their visit is a pleasant episode, as they have seen so much of exceeding interest in the isles they have already visited. Their descriptions of scenery are tantalising.
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_September 4._
To-day Lady Gordon has had a great luncheon-party of about forty people, and now they are all playing lawn-tennis on the green. As for me, I am preparing for a wonderful and delightful trip. For the last few days our French friends have been urging me to complete “_Le tour de la Mission_” in the Seignelay,—and so, see and sketch many lovely isles, which, under no other circumstances, could I possibly visit. Of course, at first I treated the suggestion as simply a polite form; but we found it was made thoroughly in earnest, _de bon cœur_, and by one and all,—especially by the occupant of the very best cabin, which had actually been prepared for me before I dreamt of accepting it. At last we were all so thoroughly convinced that the invitation was perfectly genuine, that Sir Arthur has consented to my going, and to-morrow we sail for Tonga, and then Samoa, where I am to visit a friend, who is wife of the Consul, and has sent me many invitations. Thence I am to return here.
Such at least is my intention. But my kind new friends scout the idea of my turning back before we reach Tahiti, of which they speak as of a dream of indescribable loveliness. Whether I may be tempted to proceed there, I cannot possibly tell. Certainly I am made to feel as if I were conferring a favour, instead of what I feel to be accepting so great a one. We sail to-morrow, therefore it may be a good while before you next hear from me. So good-bye for the present.