Finally the boat, which John had christened the Messenger of Peace, was ready to be launched. Once the vessel was finally coaxed into the water, all that was needed was to fit the rudder. Because there was not enough iron left to make pintles to hold the rudder in place, John melted down the pickax, the adze, and the hoe to make them. However, he was worried that they wouldn’t be strong enough, so he loaded a substitute rudder aboard the boat in case the first one failed. The Messenger of Peace, which had taken three months to build, was now finally ready to set sail.
Since Raiatea was about eight hundred miles away, John thought it would be wise to first try out the Messenger of Peace on a shorter voyage. He decided to head for Aitutaki, which was 170 miles north. There he would check up on the church and the missionaries and gather supplies for Rarotonga.
John chose a crew of Rarotongans to man the ship, and with him at the helm, they set sail. Much to John’s dismay, six miles out from Rarotonga, the inexperienced crew let the foresail go in a strong wind. With a sickening crack the foremast snapped, and they were forced to turn back and make repairs.
Once a new mast had been installed, the Messenger of Peace got under way again. John was pleased with the way the boat handled in the open water, and they arrived at Aitutaki without further incident. John stayed on Aitutaki for ten days, and when the Messenger of Peace left for the return voyage, it was laden with gifts for the people of Rarotonga. The gifts included seventy pigs, thirty cats, many woven baskets and mats, and hundreds of coconuts. The gifts were well received. The cats did kill some rats, but much to John’s surprise, the pigs killed a lot more. John hoped it would not be too long before the rat problem was finally under control.
The coconuts were left to sprout and then were planted up and down the beaches to replace the trees that had been destroyed by the raiding party. In a year or so the coconut trees would once again provide food and weaving material for the people of Rarotonga.
On April 1, 1828, a ship was sighted from the beach. A longboat was lowered over the side of the vessel, and John and Mary stood watching with many of their friends to see who would come ashore. Much to their joy it was another missionary couple, named Aaron and Sarah Buzacott, who had been send out by the London Missionary Society to work in Rarotonga. Sarah cradled a month-old baby in her arms. The Buzacotts had brought plenty of supplies with them, including items the missionaries had run out of months ago, such as flour and tea.
That evening, after the formal island welcome was over, the Buzacotts and Pitmans sat with John and Mary in front of their house overlooking the lagoon. John savored his cup of tea. It was the first one he’d had in many months, and to make it even better, he was able to stir some sugar into it. While he enjoyed having tea to drink once again, he knew that Mary was especially grateful for the flour and rice she now had to cook with. They had lived on a diet of mainly breadfruit, fish, and bananas during their time in Rarotonga. Although his wife had tried not to complain, he knew the familiar food was a welcome relief to her, especially since she was expecting another baby in a month or so and was feeling weak and exhausted.
John was delighted to learn that, besides being an ordained minister, Aaron Buzacott was a practical man. Aaron had been raised on a farm in Devon before becoming an ironmonger. And John’s eyes lit up when he learned that Aaron had had the foresight to bring a load of iron with him. Aaron and John quickly planned how to use some of it to strengthen the hull of the Messenger of Peace.
The Buzacotts also brought news from Raiatea, which they had visited en route to Rarotonga. The news was not good. Tuahine, a very capable deacon who had been left in charge of the church, had died suddenly. This had left a void in the church leadership, and there were many arguments and divisions among the people over who should take his place. And there was more bad news. Two large canoes filled with Raiatean Christians had capsized in a storm. All seventy-six people on board the two canoes had drowned.
All this bad news made John anxious to get back to Raiatea. On April 12 the Messenger of Peace, its hull now strengthened with some of the iron Aaron had brought, was ready to set sail. John found it very hard to say good-bye to his many new friends, but he was confident that the Pitmans and the Buzacotts would make excellent missionaries and would be good friends to the Rarotongans.
Several Rarotongans were going along to crew the Messenger of Peace. Among them was Chief Makea, who was eager to meet other Christian chiefs from the islands.
On the evening of the ship’s departure, several thousand people gathered on the beach to bid the missionaries farewell. As the Williams family was rowed to the Messenger of Peace, the people began to sing in beautiful harmony from the shore, “Kia ora e Tama ma. I te aerenga i te moana e!”
John translated the words out loud: “Blessings on you, beloved friends. Blessings on you in journeying on the deep!”
His eyes filled with tears as he turned to Mary, who had Samuel cuddled close beside her, and said, “Isn’t it amazing what God has accomplished among these people in such a short time?”
Chapter 10
Questions
The Messenger of Peace arrived back in Raiatea on April 27, 1828. The caulking on her sides was hanging off in long strips, and her sails had several holes. Even so, the ship was an instant sensation. Everyone poured onto the beach at Va’oara to welcome the Williams family back and to meet Chief Makea and the Rarotongan crew. A great round of feasting and speechmaking followed over the next several days.
Once things settled down, John’s first job was to sort out the problems that had developed in the church while he was away. This did not prove to be too difficult. So much excitement had been generated among the people over the return of their missionary and the many stories he had to tell that those in the church were soon ready to work together again in getting the gospel out to other islands.
When the baby Mary was expecting was stillborn, John decided to stay put for a while in Raiatea and help his wife. He was glad, however, when the Messenger of Peace was pressed into service without him on board. After new cloth sails had been fitted and the caulking reapplied, a crew was selected, and two missionaries and several Raiatean Christians journeyed to the Marquesas Islands to set up a mission station.
While they were gone, John set about making a smaller boat to send home Chief Makea and the Rarotongan men who had crewed the Messenger of Peace to Raiatea. With them John also sent one of the deacons from the church to help the missionaries in Rarotonga.
As John worked, he dreamed about spreading the gospel to the islands that were thousands of miles to the west of Raiatea. A voyage to these islands would be long and dangerous, and he knew that in the past Mary had objected to the idea of his being away for such long periods of time. Recently, however, she’d had a change of heart. John recalled with great joy her exact words to him. “From this time your desire has my full concurrence; and when you go, I shall follow you every day with my prayers, that God may preserve you from danger, crown your attempt with success, and bring you back in safety.”
Now that Mary supported his dream completely, John was free to plan his most ambitious mission trip yet. When the Messenger of Peace returned from the Marquesas, he and fellow missionary Charles Barff would take eight Raiatean volunteers and head for the Fiji islands and other islands still farther west.
Finally, on February 25, 1830, the Messenger of Peace lay anchored in the bay at Va’oara. John had planned to leave on his voyage as soon as the annual May missionary festival was finished. The festival proved to be an exciting event. Large numbers of Christians from other islands in the Society group, including Borabora, Taha’a, and Huahine, sailed or paddled to Raiatea. Then, two days before the festival was due to begin, the HMS Seringapatam dropped anchor off Va’oara. At first John was concerned to see an English ship anchored off the island, mostly because he feared that the riotous behavior of the sailors would disrupt the Christian gathering. He need not have worried. The ship’s master, Captain Waldegrave, was a Christian who insisted that his crew remain orderly at all times. In fact, the captain and his officers accepted John’s invitation to attend a mission festival service, which began at ten o’clock the following morning. After a brief stop for lunch, the service continued until six in the evening.
John watched the captain closely as the day proceeded. The captain appeared to be stirred when the Polynesians sang the popular hymn “Blow Ye the Trumpet, Blow” in Tahitian. Then the chief of Taha’a stood and addressed the crowd. “Praise to God well becomes us,” he began. “But let it be heart-praise. All the work we do for God must be heart-work.…We were dwelling formerly in a dark house, among centipedes and lizards, spiders and rats; nor did we know what evil and despicable things were around us. The lamp of light, the Word of God, has been brought, and now we behold with dismay and disgust these abominable things. But stop. Some are killing each other this very day while we are rejoicing; some are destroying their children while we are saving ours; some are burning themselves in the fire while we are bathing in the cool waters of the gospel. What shall we do? We have been told this day by our missionary that God works by sending His Word and His servants. To effect this, property must be given. We have it; we can give it. Prayer to God is another means: Let us pray fervently. But our prayer will condemn us if we cry, ‘Send forth thy word and make it grow,’ and do not use the means. I shall say no more but let us cleave to Jesus.”
Several other men got up and spoke just as eloquently, and when the service was finished John overheard three officers off the Seringapatam talking among themselves.
“It’s just not possible,” one of them said. “There’s no way those chiefs wrote their own speeches.”
“I agree,” interjected a second officer. “They are just parrots, all of them. They cannot possibly understand what they are saying.”
John smiled to himself. He knew it must seem incredible to these officers who plied the Pacific Ocean in their ship. They were used to encountering illiterate, superstitious people, not Polynesians who could read and think for themselves.
The following morning, Captain Waldegrave and the Reverend Watson, the ship’s chaplain, knocked at John’s door. “I am sorry to bother you,” Captain Waldegrave began when John opened it. “I suppose you have heard by now that many of my crew are finding it difficult to believe that the men who spoke yesterday were not coached for our benefit.”
John laughed. “Yes, it does seem impossible that these men know what they are talking about, doesn’t it? But let me assure you, they do know. If you like, I will prove it to you. Why don’t you both have a cup of tea with me, and I will send someone off to find twelve or fifteen of our people. I am sure they will be happy to answer any questions you wish to put to them.”
“Would you mind?” the Reverend Watson replied. “I personally am ready to believe them, but many of the others are not, and I think it would do you a great deal of good back in England if the people could demonstrate such an astounding grasp of the Scriptures.”
“Of course,” John replied, opening the door wide. “Come in and join me for tea. I have nothing to hide.”
An hour later fifteen men and women from various islands were assembled on John’s veranda. John joined them there with the captain and the chaplain.
“Thank you for coming,” he said. “These gentlemen would like to ask you a few questions, which I am sure you can answer with confidence.” Then he turned to the two men. “Go ahead, gentlemen, ask away.”
