The Cruise of the Mary Rose; Or, Here and There in the PacificKingston, William Henry Giles
Religion
The Cruise of the Mary Rose; Or, Here and There in the Pacific
Kingston, William Henry Giles
Conduct of life -- Fiction; Islands of the Pacific -- Fiction; Missions -- Islands of the Pacific -- Fiction; Sea stories
After an ample repast, provided by the natives, we retired to rest
without fear, for we felt that we were watched over by One who never
slumbers nor sleeps. I do not believe that I ever slept more soundly in
my life.
The next morning the people again assembled to hear the missionary
deliver his message, his glad tidings of great joy, and glad tidings
indeed they were to many of those long-benighted beings. They had never
dreamed of a God of love; their only notion of a superior power was one
which inspired them with awe and terror. I have frequently observed
that the unsophisticated minds of savages grasp the simple and glorious
truths of the gospel with an avidity and a power of comprehension which
would be surprising to those who have been accustomed week after week
and year after year to set the same truths before those to whom they are
familiar. As I heard Mr Bent and Vihala addressing the people, whose
upturned eager earnest countenances I watched, my heart glowed within
me, and I longed to be able also to spread the same glad tidings among a
race so eager to receive them. Mary Bent was not idle either, for she
had collected round her a number of young women and girls, to whom she
was telling the same truths in a way calculated to fix them on their
memories.
I deeply regretted that we could not remain on the island till some at
least had been thoroughly instructed in the doctrines of Christianity,
but it was clearly my duty to return as soon as I possibly could to my
ship. "Find out what is right and do it, independent of all other
considerations," was a maxim in which I had been instructed. Mr Bent,
although more anxious to remain for some time longer even than I was,
saw things in the same light I set to work, therefore, with my crew to
prepare our boat for sea, so as to commence our return voyage directly
the storm should cease and the sea become calm.
A week, however, elapsed before I considered that we might safely
venture to put to sea. When the natives heard that we were about to
take our departure, they entreated with tears that we would remain some
time longer. Finding that they could not prevail, they then of their
own accord begged that Vihala might be left with them. This was a sore
trial to him, for Alea had been convinced that it was her duty at once
to return to her father, and the separation was grievous to both. Still
the path of duty seemed clearly marked out for them. There was no
hesitation. Vihala felt that he could not abandon those who had been so
lately taught to know the truth, and who so much needed further
instruction. The young people consoled themselves that they might soon
again meet to be united for ever. "Fear not, dearest," said Vihala.
"Let us put our trust in God. We are doing our duty. He always
protects those who do that." Still, though they thus bravely spoke,
they were both deeply affected at parting.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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