Books: Life of John Coleridge Patteson

C >> Charlotte M. Yonge >> Life of John Coleridge Patteson

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'Ever yours, my dear Bishop,

' J. K.

'Don't trouble yourself to write, but think of us.'

Of course there was no obeying this postscript, and the immediate
reply was:--

'My dear dear Mr. Keble,--Few things have ever given me more real
pleasure than the receipt of your letter by this mail. I never
doubted your interest in New Zealand and Melanesia, and your
affection for me for my dear Father's sake. I felt quite sure that
prayers were being offered up for us in many places, and where more
frequently than at Hursley? Even as on this day, five years ago,
when I touched the reef at Guadalcanar, in the presence of three
hundred armed and naked men, (I heard afterwards) prayers were being
uttered in the dead of your night by my dear old governess, Miss
Neill, that God would have me in His safe keeping. But it is most
pleasant, most helpful to me, to read your letter, and to feel that I
have a kind of right now to write to you, as I hope I may do while I
live fully and freely.

'I do not say a word concerning the idea some of you in England seem
to take of my life here. It is very humbling to me, as it ought to
be, to read such a letter from you. How different it is really!

'If my dear sisters do come out to me for a while, which, after their
letters by this February mail, seems less impossible than before,
they will soon see what I mean: a missionary's life does not procure
him any immunity from temptations, nor from falling into them;
though, thanks be to God, it has indeed its rich and abundant
blessings. It is a blessed thing to draw a little fellow, only six
months ago a wild little savage, down upon one's knee, and hear his
first confession of his past life, and his shy hesitating account of
the words he uses when he prays to his newly-found God and Saviour.
These are rare moments, but they do occur; and, if they don't, why
the duty is to work all the same.

'The intelligence of some of these lads and young men really
surprises me. Some with me now, last October were utterly wild,
never had worn a stitch of clothing, were familiar with every kind of
vice. They now write an account of a Scripture print, or answer my
MS. questions without copy, of course, fairly and legibly in their
books, and read their own language--only quite lately reduced to
writing--with ease. What an encouragement! And this applies to, I
think, the great majority of these islanders.

'One child, I suppose some thirteen or fourteen years of age, I
baptized on Christmas Day. Three days afterwards I married her to a
young man who had been for some years with us. They are both natives
of Nengone, one of the Loyalty Isles. I administered the Holy
Eucharist to her last Saturday, and she is dying peacefully of
consumption. What a blessed thing! This little one, fresh from
Baptism, with all Church ministrations round her, passing gently away
to her eternal rest. She looks at me with her soft dark eyes, and
fondles my hand, and says she is not unhappy. She has, I verily
believe, the secret of real happiness in her heart.

'I must write more when at sea. I have very little time here.

'I hope by God's blessing to make a long round among my many islands
this winter; some, I know, must be approached with great caution.
Your prayers will be offered for me and those with me, I know, and am
greatly comforted by the knowledge of it.

'Fanny tells me what you have said to her about supplying any deficit
in the money required for our vessel. I feel as if this ought not in
one sense to come upon you, but how can I venture to speak to you on
such matters? You know all that I think and feel about it. Send me
more your blessing. I feel cares and anxieties now. My kind love to
Mrs. Keble.

'J. C. PATTESON, Missionary Bishop.'

Two more notes followed in quick succession to Hursley Vicarage,
almost entirely upon the matter of the new 'Southern Cross,' which
was being built under Mr. Tilly's eye. The two Bishops were
scrupulous about letting Mr. Keble give more than a fair proportion
towards the vessel, which was not to cost more than £3,000, though
more roomy than her lamented predecessor. Meantime the 'Sea Breeze'
was 'again to serve for the winter voyage:--

'St. Barnabas Day, Auckland: 1862.

'My dear Sisters,--Think of my being ashore, and in a Christian land
on this day. So it is. We sail (D.V.) in six days, as it may be
this day week. The Melanesians are very good and pretty well in
health, but we are all anxious to be in warm climates. I think that
most matters are settled. Primate and I have finished our accounts.
Think of his wise stewardship! The endowment in land and money, and
no debts contracted! I hope that I leave nothing behind me to cause
difficulty, should anything happen. The Primate and Sir William
Martin are my executors; Melanesia, as you would expect, my heir. I
may have forgotten many items, personal reminiscences. Ask for
anything, should anything happen. I see no reason to anticipate it,
humanly speaking, but it is always well to think of such things. I
am just going to the little Taurarua chapel to our Melanesian
Commemoration service with Holy Communion.

'Oh! if it should please God to grant us a meeting here!

'Great blessings have been given me this summer in seeing the
progress made by the scholars, so great as to make me feel sober-
minded and almost fearful, but that is wrong and faithless perhaps,
and yet surely the trials must come some day.

'God bless you all, and keep you all safe from all harm.

'Your loving Brother,

'J. C. PATTESON, Bishop.'

'Friday, June 27th, 2 P.M.--How you are thinking of all that took
place that last night on earth. He was taking his departure for a
long voyage, rather he was entering into the haven where he would be!
May God give us grace to follow his holy example, his patient
endurance of his many trials, the greatest his constant trial of
deafness.

'I think if the weather be fair, that we shall go off to-morrow. Oh!
if we do meet, and spend, it may be, Christmas together.

28th, 3 P.M.--The first anniversary of our dear Father's death. How
you are all recalling what took place then! How full of thankfulness
for his gain, far outweighing the sorrow for our loss! And yet how
you must feel it, more than I do, and yet I feel it deeply: but the
little fond memories of the last months, and above all the looks and
spoken words of love, I can't altogether enter into them. His
letters are all that letters can be, more than any other letters can
be, but they are not the same thing in all ways. The Primate has
left us to hurry down the sailing master of the "Sea Breeze." It was
a very rough morning, but is calm now, boats passing and repassing
between the shore and the schooner at anchor off Kohimarama.'

The habit of writing journals was not at once resumed by Bishop
Patteson when his father was not there to read them; and the chance
of seeing his sisters, no doubt, made him write less fully to them,
since they might be on the voyage when the letters arrived in
England. Thus the fullest record of the early part of the voyage is
in a report which he drew up and printed in the form of a letter to
the Rev. J. Keble:--

'We chartered the "Sea Breeze" schooner in June last for four months:
she is a vessel of seventy tons register, a little larger than the
old "Southern Cross," and as well suited for our purpose as a vessel
can be which is built to carry passengers in the ordinary way. No
voyage can of course equal in importance those early expeditions of
the Primate, when he sailed in his little schooner among seas
unknown, to islands never before visited, or visited only by the
sandal-wood traders. But I never recollect myself so remarkable a
voyage as this last. I do not mean that any new method was adopted
in visiting islands, or communicating with the natives. God gave to
the Bishop of New Zealand wisdom to see and carry out from the first
the plan, which more and more approves itself as the best and only
feasible plan, for our peculiar work. But all through this voyage,
both in revisiting islands well known to us, and in recommencing the
work in other islands, where, amidst the multitude of the Primate's
engagements, it had been impossible to keep up our acquaintance with
the people, and in opening the way in islands now visited for the
first time, from the beginning to the end, it pleased God to prosper
us beyond all our utmost hopes. I was not only able to land on many
places where, as far as I know, no white man had set foot before, but
to go inland, to inspect the houses, canoes, &c., in crowded villages
(as at Santa Cruz), or to sit for two hours alone amidst a throng of
people (as at Pentecost Island), or to walk two and a half miles
inland (as at Tariko or Aspee). From no less than eight islands have
we for the first time received, young people for our school here, and
fifty-one Melanesian men, women, and young lads are now with us,
gathered from twenty-four islands, exclusive of the islands so long-
known to us of the Loyalty Group. When you remember that at Santa
Cruz, e.g., we had never landed before, and that this voyage I was
permitted to go ashore at seven different places in one day, during
which I saw about 1,200 men: that in all these islands the
inhabitants are, to look at, wild, naked, armed with spears and
clubs, or bows and poisoned arrows; that every man's hand (as, alas!
we find only too soon when we live among them) is against his
neighbour, and scenes of violence and bloodshed amongst themselves of
frequent occurrence; and that throughout this voyage (during which I
landed between seventy and eighty times) not one hand was lifted up
against me, not one sign of ill-will exhibited; you will see why I
speak and think with real amazement and thankfulness of a voyage
accompanied with results so wholly unexpected. I say results, for
the effecting a safe landing on an island, and much more the
receiving a native lad from it, is, in this sense, a result, that the
great step has been made of commencing an acquaintance with the
people. If I live to make another voyage, I shall no longer go
ashore there as a stranger. I know the names of some of the men; I
can by signs remind them of some little present made, some little
occurrence which took place; we have already something in common, and
as far as they know me at all, they know me as a friend. Then some
lad is given up to us, the language learned, and a real hold on the
island obtained.

'The most distant point we reached was the large island Ysabel, in
the Solomon Archipelago. From this island a lad has come away with
us, and we have also a native boy from an island not many miles
distant from Ysabel, called Anudha, but marked in the charts (though
not correctly) as Florida.

'It would weary you if I wrote of all the numerous adventures and
strange scenes which in such a voyage we of course experience. I
will give you, if I can, an idea of what took place at some few
islands, to illustrate the general character of the voyage.

'One of the New Hebrides Islands, near the middle of the group, was
discovered by Cook, and by him called "Three Hills." The central
part of it, where we have long-had an acquaintance with the natives,
is called by them "Mai." Some six years ago we landed there, and two
young men came away with us, and spent the summer in New Zealand.
Their names were Petere and Laure; the former was a local chief of
some consequence. We took a peculiar interest in this island,
finding that a portion of the population consists of a tribe speaking
a dialect of the great Polynesian language of which another dialect
is spoken in New Zealand. Every year we have had scholars from Mai,
several of whom can read and write. We have landed there times
without number, slept ashore three or four times, and are well known
of course to the inhabitants.

'The other day I landed as usual among a crowd of old acquaintances,
painted and armed, but of that I thought nothing. Knowing them to be
so friendly to us, instead of landing alone, I took two or three of
our party to walk inland with me; and off we started, Mr. Dudley and
Wadrokala being left sitting in the boat, which was, as usual, a
short distance from the beach. We had walked about half a mile
before I noticed something unusual in the manner of the people, and I
overheard them talking in a way that made me suspect that something
had happened which they did not want me to know. Petere had not made
his appearance, though in general the first to greet us, and on my
making enquiries for him, I was told that he was not well. Not long
afterwards I overheard a man say that Petere was dead, and taking
again some opportunity that offered itself for asking about him, was
told that he was dead, that he had died of dysentery. I was grieved
to hear this, because I liked him personally and had expected help
from him when the time came for commencing a Mission station on the
island. The distance from the beach to the village where Petere
lived is about one and a half mile, and a large party had assembled
before we reached it. There was a great lamentation and crying on
our arrival, during which I sat down on a large log of a tree. Then
came a pause, and I spoke to the people, telling them how sorry I was
to hear of Petere's death. There was something strange still about
their manner, which I could not quite make out; and one of our party,
who was not used to the kind of thing, did not like the looks of the
people and the clubs and spears. At last one of them, an old scholar
of ours, came forward and said, "The men here do not wish to deceive
you; they know that you loved Petere, and they will not hide the
truth; Petere was killed by a man in a ship, a white man, who shot
him in the forehead." Of course I made minute enquiries as to the
ship, the number of masts, how many people they saw, whether there
was anything remarkable about the appearance of any person on board,
&c. The men standing round us were a good deal excited, but the same
story was told by them all.

'After a while I walked back to the beach, no indication having been
made of unfriendliness, but I had not gone more than a quarter of a
mile when three men rushed past me from behind, and ran on to the
beach. Meanwhile Mr. Dudley and Wadrokala in the boat were rather
uneasy at the manner of the people standing near them on the reef;
and they too suspected that something unusual had occurred.
Presently they saw these three men rush out of the bush on to the
beach and distribute "kava" (leaves of the pepper plant) among the
people, who at once changed their manner, became quite friendly and
soon dispersed. It was quite evident that a discussion had taken
place on shore as to the treatment we were to receive; and these men
on the beach were awaiting the result of the discussion, prepared to
act accordingly. There was scarcely any danger in our case of their
deciding to injure us, because they knew us well; but had we been
strangers we should have been killed of course; their practice being,
naturally enough, to revenge the death of a countryman on the arrival
of the next man who comes from what they suppose to be their enemies'
country.

'This story may show you that caution is necessary long after the
time that a real friendship has commenced and been carried on. We
never can tell what may have taken place during the intervals of our
visits. I returned to the village, with Mr. Kerr and Mr. Dudley and
slept ashore, thinking it right to restore mutual confidence at once;
and there was not the slightest risk in doing so.

'Now let me tell you about an island called Ambrym, lying to the
south of Aurora and Pentecost, the two northernmost islands of the
New Hebrides group.

'Ambrym is a grand island, with a fine active volcano, so active on
this last occasion of our visiting it, that we were covered and half-
blinded by the ashes; the deck was thickly covered with them, and the
sea for miles strewed with floating cinders. We have repeatedly
landed in different parts of the island, but this time we visited an
entirely new place. There was a considerable surf on the beach, and
I did not like the boat to go near the shore, partly on that account,
but chiefly because our rule is not to let the boat approach too near
the beach lest it should be hauled up on shore by the people and our
retreat to the schooner cut off. So I beckoned to some men in a
canoe (for I could not speak a word of the language), who paddled up
to us, and took me ashore.

'As I was wading to the beach, an elderly man came forward from the
crowd to the water's edge, where he stood holding both his arms
uplifted over his head. Directly that I reached him, he took my
hand, and put it round his neck, and turned to walk up the beach. As
I walked along with him through the throng of men, more than three
hundred in number, my arm all the while round his neck, I overheard a
few words which gave me some slight clue as to the character of their
language, and a very few words go a long way on such occasions. We
went inland some short distance, passing through part of a large
village, till we came to a house with figures, idols or not, I hardly
know, placed at some height above the door.

'They pointed to these figures and repeated a name frequently, not
unlike the name of one of the gods of some of the islands further to
the north; then they struck the hollow tree, which is their native
drum, and thronged close round me, while I gave away a few fish-
hooks, pieces of red braid, &c. I asked the names of some of the
people, and of objects about me, trees, birds, &c. I was
particularly struck with two boys who kept close to me. After some
time I made signs that I would return to the beach, and we began to
move away from the village; but I was soon stopped by some men, who
brought me two small trees, making signs that I should plant them.

'When I returned to the beach, the two boys were still with me, and I
took their hands and walked on amidst the crowd. I did not imagine
that they would come away with me, and yet a faint hope of their
doing so sprang up in my mind, as I still found them holding my
hands, and even when I began to wade towards the boat still close by
my side in the water. All this took place in the presence of several
hundred natives, who allowed these boys to place themselves in the
boat and be taken on board the schooner.

'I was somewhat anxious about revisiting an island called Tikopia.
Once we were there, five or six years ago. The island is small, and
the inhabitants probably not more than three hundred or four hundred.
They are Polynesians, men of very large stature, rough in manner, and
not very easily managed. I landed there and waded across the reef
among forty or fifty men. On the beach a large party assembled. I
told them in a sort of Polynesian patois, that I wished to take away
two lads from their island, that I might learn their language, and
come back and teach them many things for their good. This they did
not agree to. They said that some of the full-grown men wished to go
away with me; but to this I in my turn could not agree. These great
giants would be wholly unmanageable in our school at present. I went
back to the edge of the reef--about three hundred yards--and got into
the boat with two men; we rowed off a little way, and I attempted,
more quietly than the noisy crowd on shore would allow, to explain to
them my object in coming to them. After a while we pulled back to
the reef, and I waded ashore again; but I could not induce them to
let me take any one away who was at all eligible for the school.
Still I was very thankful to have been able twice to land and remain
half an hour or more on shore among the people. Next year (D.V.) I
may be able to see more of them, and perhaps may obtain a scholar,
and so open the island. It is a place visited by whalers, but they
never land here, and indeed the inhabitants are generally regarded as
dangerous fellows to deal with, so I was all the more glad to have
made a successful visit.

'Nothing could have been more delightful than the day I spent in
making frequent landings on the north side of Santa Cruz. This
island was visited by Spaniards, under the command of Mendana, nearly
three hundred years ago. They attempted to found a colony there, but
after a short time were compelled, by illness and the death of
Mendana and his successor, to abandon their endeavour. It is
apparently a very fertile island, certainly a very populous one. The
inhabitants are very ingenious, wearing beautiful ornaments, making
good bags woven of grass stained with turmeric, and fine mats. Their
arrows are elaborately carved, and not less elaborately poisoned:
their canoes well made and kept in good order. We never before
landed on this island; but the Primate, long before I was in this
part of the world, and two or three times since, had sailed and rowed
into the bay at the north-west end, called Graciosa Bay, the fine
harbour in which the Spaniards anchored. I went ashore this last
voyage in seven different places, large crowds of men thronging down
to the water's edge as I waded to the beach. They were exceedingly
friendly, allowed me to enter the houses, sit down and inspect their
mode of building them. They brought me food to eat; and when I went
out of the houses again, let me examine the large sea-going canoes
drawn up in line on the beach. I wrote down very many names, and
tried hard to induce some young people to come away with me, but
after we had pulled off some way, their courage failed them, and they
swam back to the shore.

'Two or three of the men took off little ornaments and gave them to
me; one bright pretty boy especially I remember, who took off his
shell necklace and put it round my neck, making me understand, partly
by words, but more by signs, that he was afraid to come now, but
would do so if I returned, as I said, in eight or ten moons.

'Large baskets of almonds were given me, and other food also thrown
into the boat. I made a poor return by giving some fish-hooks and a
tomahawk to the man whom I took to be the person of most consequence.
On shore the women came freely up to me among the crowd, but they
were afraid to venture down to the beach. Now this is the island
about which we have long felt a great difficulty as to the right way
of obtaining any communication with the natives. This year, why and
how I cannot tell, the way was opened beyond all expectation. I
tried hard to get back from the Solomon Islands so as to revisit it
again during the voyage, but we could not get to the eastward, as the
trade-wind blew constantly from that quarter.

'At Leper's Island I had just such another day--or rather two days
were spent in making an almost complete visitation of the northern
part of the island--the people were everywhere most friendly, and I
am hoping to see them all again join us soon, when some may be
induced to.

'It would be the work of days to tell you all our adventures. How at
Malanta I picked two lads out of a party of thirty-six in a grand war
canoe going on a fighting expedition--and very good fellows they are;
how we filled up our water-casks at Aurora, standing up to our necks
in the clear cool stream rushing down from a cataract above, with the
natives assisting us in the most friendly manner; how at Santa Maria,
which till this year we never visited without being shot at, I walked
for four or five hours far inland wherever I pleased, meeting great
crowds of men all armed and suspicious of each other--indeed actually
fighting with each other--but all friendly to me; how at Espiritu
Santo, when I had just thrown off my coat and tightened my belt to
swim ashore through something of a surf, a canoe was launched, and
without more ado a nice lad got into our boat and came away with us,
without giving me the trouble of taking a swim at all; how at Florida
Island, never before reached by us, one out of some eighty men, young
and old, standing all round me on the reef, to my astonishment
returned with me to the boat, and without any opposition from the
people quietly seated himself by my side and came away to the
schooner; how at Pentecost Island, Taroniara (a lad whom the Primate
in old days had picked up in his canoe paddling against a strong head
wind, and kept him on board all night, and sent him home with
presents in the morning) now came away with me, but not without his
bow and poisoned arrows, of which I have taken safe possession; how
Misial felt sea-sick and home-sick for a day or two, but upon being
specially patronised by the cook, soon declared "that no place could
compare with the galley of a Mission vessel, to the truth of which
declaration the necessity of enlarging his scanty garments soon bore
satisfactory testimony; how at Ysabel the young chief came on board
with a white cockatoo instead of a hawk on his wrist, which he
presented to me with all the grace in the world, and with an enquiry
after his good friend Captain Hume, of H.M.S. "Cordelia," who had
kindly taken me to this island in the winter of 1861.'