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
EARLY one morning, the savage yells of warring Tribes woke me from
sleep. They had broken into a quarrel about a woman, and were fiercely
engaged with their clubs. According to my custom, I rushed in amongst
them, and, not without much difficulty, was blessed in separating them
before deadly wounds had been given or received. On this occasion, the
Chiefs of both Tribes, being very friendly to me, drove their people
back from each other at my earnest appeals. Sitting down at length
within earshot, they had it out in a wild scolding match, a contest of
lung and tongue. Meanwhile I rested on a canoe midway betwixt them, in
the hope of averting a renewal of hostilities. By and by an old Sacred
Man, a Chief, called Sapa, with some touch of savage comedy in his
breast, volunteered an episode which restored good humor to the scene.
Leaping up, he came dancing and singing towards me, and there, to the
amusement of all, reenacted the quarrel, and mimicked rather cleverly my
attempt at separating the combatants. Smashing at the canoe with his
club, he yelled and knocked down imaginary enemies; then, rushing first
at one party and then at the other, he represented me as appealing and
gesticulating and pushing them afar from each other, till he became
quite exhausted. Thereon he came and planted himself in great glee
beside me, and looked around as if to say, "You must laugh, for I have
played." At this very juncture, a loud cry of "Sail O" broke upon our
ears, and all parties leapt to their feet, and prepared for a new
sensation; for in those climes, everything--war itself--is a smaller
interest than a vessel from the Great Unknown Beyond sailing into your
Harbor.
Not many days thereafter, a very horrible transaction occurred. Before
daybreak, I heard shot after shot quickly discharged in the Harbor. One
of my Teachers came running, and cried, "Missi, six or seven men have
been shot dead this morning for a great feast. It is to reconcile Tribes
that have been at war, and to allow a banished Tribe to return in
peace."
I learned that the leading men had in council agreed upon this
sacrifice, but the name of each victim was kept a secret till the last
moment. The torture of suspense and uncertainty seemed to be borne by
all as part of their appointed lot; nor did they prepare as if
suspecting any dread assault. Before daylight, the Sacred Men allocated
a murderer to the door of each house where a victim slept. A signal shot
was fired; all rushed to their doors, and the doomed ones were shot and
clubbed to death, as they attempted to escape. Their bodies were then
borne to a sacred tree, and hung up there by the hands for a time as an
offering to the gods. Being taken down, they were carried ceremoniously
and laid out on the shore near my house, placed under a special guard.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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