The Mission House, as ultimately finished, had six rooms, three on each side of the lobby, and measured ninety feet in length, surrounded by a verandah, one hundred feet by five, which kept everything shaded and cool. Underneath two rooms, a cellar was dug eight feet deep, and shelved all round for a store. In more than one terrific hurricane that cellar saved our lives,—all crushing into it when trees and houses were being tossed like feathers on the wings of the wind. Altogether, the house at Aniwa has proved one of the healthiest and most commodious of any that have been planted by Christian hands on the New Hebrides. In selecting site and in building “the good hand of our God was upon us for good.”
I built also two Orphanages, almost as inevitably necessary as the Missionary’s own house. They stood on a line with the front of my own dwelling, one for girls, the other for boys, and we had them constantly under our own eyes. The Orphans were practically boarded at the Mission premises, and adopted by the Missionaries. Their clothing was a heavy drain upon our resources; and every odd and curious article that came in any of the boxes or parcels was utilized. We trained these young people for Jesus. And at this day many of the best of our Native Teachers, and most devoted Christian helpers, are amongst those who would probably have perished but for these Orphanages.
A grievous accident deprived me of special help in house-building. I cut my ankle badly with an adze, as I had done before on Tanna, through a knot in the tree. Binding my handkerchief tightly round it, I appealed to the Natives to carry me back to our hut. They stipulated for payment. My vest pocket being filled with fish-hooks, a current coin on all these Islands, I got a fellow to understand the bribe. He carried me a little, got some hooks, and then called another, who did the same, and then called a third, and so on, each man earning his hooks, and passing on the burden and the pay to another, while I suffered terribly and bled profusely. Being my own doctor, I dressed the wound for weeks, kept it constantly in cold water bandages, and by the kindness of the Lord it recovered, though it left me lame for many a day.
But the greatest sorrow was this: the good and kind Aneityumese, who had been hired to come and help me with all the unskilled parts of the labour, could do nothing without me, and when the _Dayspring_ came round at the appointed time I had to pay them in full and let them return, deprived of their valuable aid. Even to keep them in food would have exhausted our limited stores, and some months must elapse before our next supplies could arrive from Sydney.
The Aniwans themselves could scarcely be induced to work at all, even for payment. Their personal wants were few, and were supplied by their own plantations. They replied to my appeals with all the unction of philosophers, and told me,—
“The conduct of the men of Aniwa is to stand by, or sit and look on, while their women do the work!”
On Aniwa we soon found ourselves face to face with blank Heathenism. The natives at first expected that the Missionary’s _Biritania tavai_ (= British Medicine) would cure at once all their complaints. Disappointment led to resentment in their ignorant and childish minds. They also expected to get for the asking, or for any trifle, an endless supply of knives, calico, fish-hooks, blankets, etc. Every refusal irritated them. Again, our Medicines relieved or cured them, so they blamed us also for their diseases,—all their Sacred Men not only curing but also _causing_ sickness. Further, they generally came to us only after exhausting every resource of their own witchcraft and superstition, and when it was probably too late. I had often to taste the Medicine in their sight before the sufferers would touch it; and if one dose did not cure them, it was almost impossible to get them to persevere. But time taught them its value, and the yearly expenditure for Medicine soon became a very heavy tax on our modest salary.