THE ' K I N G ’ S B U S I N E S S
August 1926
449
The Passing of a South Sea Island Heathen Chief REV. MAURICE FRATER Missionary to the New Hebrides under the John G. Paton Mission Fund; author of “ Midst Volcanic Fires” and “ Won by Blood,“ two thrilling tales of the Winning of the New Hebrides for Christ. E jgn FEW days after our return from furlough a mes- 9 sage came from the chief of the tribe of Topulai V that he was very ill and would like me to visit him Ul as soon as possible. It was a great surprise to me to learn that old Hungai was still in the land of the living. He had been ill for many years, and when I sailed for Australia he seemed to be dying of consumption, with only a short time to live. I had heard nothing about him in the Interval and concluded that he had passed into the "region of the shadows." Hungai Sivi came of the lineage of chiefs, and at the height of his power was the most influential man on the island of Paama. At the time of our first landing, twenty- four years ago, he was the Dictator of the Island. Heathen worship flourished under his patronage, and it was his dream by night and ambition by day to make his ancestral abode a central shrine to which might repair worship pers from the surrounding island, to be initiated into the mysteries of heathenism. So infatuated was he with the heathen cult with which his line of chieftain forbears had been identified, that he could brook no rival form of worship. The first attempts to establish Christian worship were frustrated by him, and many years elapsed before the Mission obtained a footing. Even when native teachers had effected a settlement at the north end of the island he persecuted them and their con verts most bitterly. Strangely enough, he had a streak of cunning in his nature which made him most courteous and patronising to foreigners. Jin my dealings with1him, which were fre quently of a controversial nature, I always found him the perfect gentleman; and had I but known less of his bitter and persecuting spirit, I could have joined hands with the passing tourists and hailed him as a bright specimen of the noble savage. Naturally enough, such a nature had no capacity for the religion of the soul, and he remained adamant to the claims of Jesus Christ. He had not time ifor God, and apparently no need for the consolation of the Gospel. He demanded and obtained despotic obedience from his tribes men, and their unswerving loyalty to their chief made Topulai the last of the tribes of Paama to give allegiance to Jesus Christ. When at last the day came and the tribesmen broke away to join the new Christian community he still stood out, with a tenacity worthy of a better cause, defiant and unconquerable. When his message came, I began to wonder if bis long illness had softened his heart and made him amenable to the play of Christian Influences. It was however with some trepidation that I approached the village of Topulai, on the outskirts of which, overlooking the sea, I found the old man reclining on a bed of cocoanut leaves which had been laid for him on the ground in the kindly shade of a leafy mango tree.
Two of the wives and several clansmen stood by in con stant attendance. In his weakness I found him still the gentleman and chieftain. His face beamed as I approached, and he held out a wasted hand to welcome me. Could it be that his hostility to Christ and Christian worship was wan ing? Was he now anxious to learn about the Gospel for himself? , I was some time in his company before 1 ventured to talk about his soul. Though feeble and emaciated, his mind was clear, and for one so weak, he spoke with animation. He was conscious that, life was ebbing, and that[ even now he was within sight of the sea upon which he must so soon sail. I could see that his faith in the spirits, on whose good will and protection he once set such great store; was gone, and that he was disturbed by nameless wants and fears. He felt that he was in the dangerous undertow with whose dangers he had so often grappled in the days of his youth. What he wanted was a haven of peace beyond the sweep of the gales and out of the swirl of the*sea. I spoke to him of thq. Rock, sure and steadfast, which had been the refuge of men in all ages and countries, and told him that it contained a place for him. I repeated a few of the gracious invitations of the Saviour, like, “ Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest;" “ Let him that heareth say, Come," and assured him that even though he had resisted so long, the invitation
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