One large tree was still needed to complete the couples, and could nowhere be found. The work was at a standstill; for, though the size was now reduced to fifty feet by twenty-two, and the roof had been lowered by four feet in order to give the windlass sufficient purchase, there was plenty of smaller wood on Aniwa, but the larger trees were apparently exhausted. One morning, however, we were awoke at early daybreak by the shouting and singing of a company of men, carrying a great black tree to the Church, with this same Chief dancing before them, leading the singing, and beating time with the flourish of his tomahawk. Determined not to be beaten, though late in the field, he had lifted the roof-tree out of his own house, as black as soot could make it, and was carrying it to complete the couplings. The rest of the builders shouted against this. All the other wood of the Church was white and clean, and they would not have this black tree, conspicuous in the very centre of all. But I praised the old Chief for what he had done, and hoped he and his people would come and worship Jehovah under his own roof-tree. At this all were delighted; and the work went on apace, with many songs and shoutings.
Whenever the Church was roofed in, we met in it for Public Worship. Coral was being got and burned, and preparations made for plastering the walls. The Natives were sharp enough to notice that I was not putting up the bell; and suspicions arose that I kept it back in order to take it with me when I returned to Tanna. It was a beautiful Church bell, cast and sent out by our dear friend, James Taylor, Esq., Engineer, Birkenhead. The Aniwans, therefore, gave me no rest till I agreed to have it hung on their new Church. They found a large iron-wood tree near the shore, cut a road for half a mile through the bush, tied poles across it every few feet, and with shouts lifted it bodily on their shoulders—six men or so at each pole—and never set it down again till they reached the Church; for as one party got exhausted, others were ready to rush in and relieve them at every stage of the journey. The two old Chiefs, flourishing their tomahawks, went capering in front of all the rest, and led the song to which they marched, joyfully bearing their load. They dug a deep hole into which to sink it; I squared the top and screwed on the bell; then we raised the tree by ropes, letting it sink into the hole, built it round eight feet deep with coral blocks and lime, and there from its top swings and rings ever since the Church bell of Aniwa.
A fortnight’s cessation of labour at the Church now followed. Their own plantations were attended to, and other needful duties performed. Our resumption of operations at the Church gave the opportunity for a deed of horrid cruelty. The Chiefs son, Patesa, had just been married to a youthful widow, whom Nasi, a Tanna man living on Aniwa, had also desired. The people of the young bridegroom’s village agreed to sleep overnight near the Mission Premises, in order to be ready for the work early next morning; and they deputed the young couple to return to the village and sleep there, watching over their property. Nasi and his half-brother Nouka, knowing they were alone, crept stealthily towards their hut at earliest daybreak, and removed the door without awaking either of the sleepers. Next moment a ball struck the young husband dead. The wife sprang up and implored Nasi to spare her; but he sent a ball through her heart, and she fell dead upon her dead spouse. Their people, hearing the double shot, rushed to the scene, and found the hut flowing with blood. Early that same forenoon the bride and bridegroom were laid in the same grave, in the sleep of love and death.