The Story of John G. Paton: Chapter 75 - The Orphans and Their Biscuits
THE habits of morning and evening Family Prayer and of Grace at Meat took a very wonderful hold upon the people; and became, as I have shown elsewhere, a distinctive badge of Christian versus Heathen. This was strikingly manifested during a time of bitter scarcity that befell us. I heard a father, for instance, at his hut door, with his family around him, reverently blessing God for the food provided for them, and for all His mercies in Christ Jesus. Drawing near and conversing with them, I found that their meals consisted of fig leaves which they had gathered and cooked--a poor enough dish, but hunger makes a healthy appetite, and contentment is a grateful relish.
During the same period of privation, my Orphans suffered badly also. Once they came to me, saying, "Missi, we are very hungry."
I replied, "So am I, dear children, and we have no more white food till the Dayspring comes."
They continued, "Missi, you have two beautiful fig-trees. Will you let us take one feast of the young and tender leaves? We will not injure branch or fruit."
I answered, "Gladly, my children, take your fill!"
In a twinkling each child was perched upon a branch; and they feasted there happy as squirrels. Every night we prayed for the vessel, and in the morning our Orphan boys rushed to the coral rocks and eagerly scanned the sea for an answer. Day after day they returned with sad faces, saying, "Missi, Tavaka jimra!" (= No vessel yet).
But at gray dawn of a certain day we were awoke by the boys shouting from the shore and running for the Mission House with the cry,--"Tavaka oa! Tavaka oa!"(= The vessel, hurrah!)
We arose at once, and the boy exclaimed, "Missi, she is not our own vessel, but we think she carries her flag. She has three masts, and our Dayspring only two!"
I looked through my glass, and saw that they were discharging goods into the vessel's boats; and the children, when I told them that boxes and bags and casks were being sent on shore, shouted and danced with delight. As the first boat-load was discharged, the Orphans surrounded me, saying, "Missi, here is a cask that rattles like biscuits? Will you let us take it to the Mission House?"
I told them to do so if they could; and in a moment it was turned into the path, and the boys had it flying before them, some tumbling and hurting their knees, but up and at it again, and never pausing till it rolled up at the door of our Storehouse. On returning I found them all around it, and they said, "Missi, have you forgotten what you promised us?"
I said, "What did I promise you?"
They looked very disappointed and whispered to each other, "Missi has forgot!"
"Forgot what?" inquired I.
"Missi," they answered, "you promised that when the vessel came you would give each of us a biscuit."
"Oh," I replied, "I did not forget; I only wanted to see if you remembered it?"
They laughed, saying, "No fear of that, Missi! Will you soon open the cask? We are dying for biscuits."
At once I got hammer and tools, knocked off the hoops, took out the end, and then gave girls and boys a biscuit each. To my surprise, they all stood round, biscuit in hand, but not one beginning to eat.
"What," I exclaimed, "you are dying for biscuits! Why don't you eat? Are you expecting another?"
One of the eldest said, "We will first thank God for sending us food, and ask Him to bless it to us all."
And this was done in their own simple and beautiful childlike way; and then they did eat, and enjoyed their food as a gift from the Heavenly Father's hand. (Is there any child reading this, or hearing it read, who never thanks God or asks Him to bless daily bread? Then is that child not a white Heathen?) We ourselves at the Mission House could very heartily rejoice with the dear Orphans. For some weeks past our European food had been all exhausted, except a little tea, and the cocoanut had been our chief support. It was beginning to tell against us. Our souls rose in gratitude to the Lord, who had sent us these fresh provisions that we might love Him better and serve Him more.
The children's sharp eyes had read correctly. It was not the Dayspring. Our brave little ship, as I afterwards learned, had gone to wreck on 6th January 1873; and this vessel was the Paragon, chartered to bring down our supplies. Alas! the wreck had gone by auction sale to a French slaving company, who cut a passage through the coral reef, and had the vessel again floating in the Bay,--elated at the prospect of employing our Mission Ship in the blood-stained Tanaka-traffic (= a mere euphemism for South Sea slavery)! Our souls sank in horror and concern. Many Natives would unwittingly trust themselves to the Dayspring and revenge would be taken on us, as was done on noble Bishop Patteson, when the deception was found out. What could be done? Nothing but cry to God, which all the friends of our Mission did day and night, not without tears, as we thought of the possible degradation of our noble little ship. Listen! The French Slavers, anchoring their prize in the Bay, and greatly rejoicing, went ashore to celebrate the event. They drank and feasted and reveled. But that night a mighty storm arose, the old Dayspring dragged her anchor, and at daybreak she was seen again on the reef, but this time with her back broken in two and for ever unfit for service, either fair or foul. Oh, white winged Virgin, daughter of the waves, better for thee, as for thy human sisters, to die and pass away than to suffer pollution and live on in disgrace!
