The Story of John G. Paton; Or, Thirty Years Among South Sea CannibalsPaton, John Gibson
Religion
The Story of John G. Paton; Or, Thirty Years Among South Sea Cannibals
Paton, John Gibson
Missions -- Vanuatu; Paton, John Gibson, 1824-1907
In glum silence, their war weapons still grasped in their hands, they
stood looking intently at me, doubting whether I could be in earnest. I
urged then, "You all promised to do what I asked. If you break your
promise, these white men will laugh at me, and say that black fellows
only lie and deceive. Let them see that you can be trusted. I wait here
till I see you all asleep."
One said that his head was cut, and he must have revenge before he could
lie down. Others filed past showing their wounds, and declaring that it
was too bad to request them to go to sleep. I praised them as far as I
could, but urged them for once to be men and to keep their word.
Finally, they all agreed to lie down, I waiting till the last man had
disappeared; and being doubly exhausted with the debauch and the
fighting, they were soon all fast asleep. I prayed that the blessed
Sleep might lull their savage passions.
Before daylight next morning, the Minister and I were hastening to the
scene to prevent further fighting; but as the sun was rising we saw the
last tribe of the distant Natives disappearing over the brow of a hill.
A small party belonging to the district alone remained. They shouted to
us, "Black fellows all gone! No more fight. You too much like black
fellow!"
For three days afterwards I had still to linger there; and if their dogs
ran or barked at me, the women chased them with sticks and stones, and
protected me. One little touch of kindness and sympathy had unlocked
their darkened hearts.
Who wonders that the _dark_ races melt away before the _whites?_ The
pioneers of Civilization _will_ carry with them this demon of strong
drink, the fruitful parent of every other vice. The black people drink,
and become unmanageable; and through the white man's own poison-gift, an
excuse is found for sweeping the poor creatures off the face of the
earth. Marsden's writings show how our Australian blacks are destroyed.
But I have myself been on the track of such butcheries again and again.
A Victorian lady told me the following incident. She heard a child's
pitiful cry in the bush. On tracing it, she found a little girl weeping
over her younger brother. She said, "The white men poisoned our father
and mother. They threaten to shoot me, so that I dare not go near them,
I am here, weeping over my brother till we die!"
The compassionate lady promised to be a mother to the little sufferers,
and to protect them. They instantly clung to her, and have proved
themselves to be loving and dutiful ever since.
CHAPTER L.
NORA.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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