Amidst our frequent trials and dangers in those earlier times on Aniwa, our little Orphans often warned us privately and saved our lives from cruel plots. When, in baffled rage, our enemies demanded who had revealed things to us, I always said, “It was a little bird from the bush.” So, the dear children grew to have perfect confidence in us. They knew we would not betray them; and they considered themselves the guardians of our lives.
The excitement increased on both sides, when a few men openly gave up their idols. Morning after morning, I noticed green cocoa-nut leaves piled at the end of our house, and wondered if it were through some Heathen superstition. But one night the old Chief knocked upon me and said,—
“Rise, Missi, and help! The Heathen are trying to burn your house. All night we have kept them off, but they are many and we are few. Rise quickly, and light a lamp at every window. Let us pray to Jehovah, and talk loud as if we were many. God will make us strong.”
I found that they had the buckets and pails from all my Premises full of water,—that the surrounding bush was swarming with Savages, torch in hand,—that the Teachers and other friendly Natives had been protecting themselves from the dews under the large cocoa-nut leaves which I saw, while they kept watch over us. After that I took my turn with them in watching, each guard being changed after so many hours. But they held a meeting and said amongst each other,—
“If our Missi is shot or killed in the dark, what will we have to watch for then? We must compel Missi to remain indoors at night!”
I yielded so far to their counsel; but still went amongst them, watch after watch, to encourage them.
What a suggestive tradition of the Fall came to me in one of those early days on Aniwa! Upon our leaving the hut and removing to our new house, it was seized upon by Tupa for his sleeping place; though still continuing to be used by the Natives, as club-house, court of law, etc. One morning at daylight this Tupa came running to us in great excitement, wielding his club furiously, and crying,—
“Missi, I have killed the Tebil. I have killed Teapolo. He came to catch me last night. I raised all the people, and we fought him round the house with our clubs. At daybreak he came out and I killed him dead. We will have no more bad conduct or trouble now. Teapolo is dead!”
I said, “What nonsense! Teapolo is a spirit, and cannot be seen.”
But in mad excitement he persisted that he had killed him. And at Mrs. Paton’s advice, I went with the man, and he led me to a great Sacred Rock of coral near our old hut, over which hung the dead body of a huge and beautiful sea-serpent, and exclaimed,—
“There he lies! Truly I killed him.”
I protested: “That is not the Devil; it is only the body of a serpent.”
The man quickly answered, “Well, but it is all the same! He is Teapolo. He makes us bad, and causes all our troubles.”
Following up this hint by many inquiries, then and afterwards, I found that they clearly associated man’s troubles and sufferings somehow with the serpent. They worshipped the Serpent, as a spirit of evil, under the name of Matshiktshiki; that is to say, they lived in abject terror of his influence, and all their worship was directed towards propitiating his rage against men.
Their story of Creation, at least of the origin of their own Aniwa and the adjacent Islands, is much more an outcome of the Native mind. They say that Matshiktshiki fished up these lands out of the sea. And they show the deep print of his foot on the coral rocks, opposite each island, whereon he stood as he strained and lifted them up above the waters. He then threw his great fishing-line round Fotuna, thirty-six miles distant, to draw it close to Aniwa and make them one land; but, as he pulled, the line broke and he fell into the sea,—so the Islands remain separated unto this day.