PORT MORESBY is a village on the mainland of New Guinea. It lies to the north and west of the island of Suau. Here Mr. Chalmers made his new headquarters beside Mr. and Mrs. Lawes. Together they planned and began the working of a training-school that they might have New Guinean teachers.
Tamate used to say that to do Christ’s work in New Guinea one was needed to break up the ground, another to sow, and another to reap. Although during his lifetime he saw many of the fierce men of the islands won for Christ, and trying to live as He wishes men to live, still the greater part of his work was to break down the hatred and cruelty of the wildest tribes. So, though he had his house at Port Moresby, he was seldom there for any length of time.
On one of his voyages westward along the coast he sighted three canoes. The men in the canoes were waiting to trade with natives from the village of Namoa. When they saw Tamate they all went ashore and ate together on the beach. Still there was no sign of the Namoans.
“Why not walk to Namoa?” said one.
“Why not?”
“And Tamate will come too!”
He did not wish to go. He was on his way to a village farther west. But the others were very eager to have him with them, and he yielded. As they started he looked round doubtfully.
“I fear it will rain before we can get back,” he said.
“Not till we return,” answered a native woman.
“The rainmaker is with us, and he only can bring rain!”
“Where is he?”
The woman pointed to a chief named Kone.
“What about rain, Kone?”
“It cannot rain, so do not fear.”
“But I think it will rain.”
“You need not fear; let us start.”
As they walked he said again:
“Kone, it will rain!”
“It will not,” Kone said. Then he turned to the mountains and shouted:
“Rain, stay on the mountains! Rain, stay on the mountains!”
“No use, Kone; rain will come.”
Soon the rain began to fall in torrents.
Kone thought that Tamate had brought the rain by stronger magic than he himself could use. He said:
“You are a great chief, and so am I, but the rain has listened to you.”
“Come, my friend, I have told you of the great and good Spirit and of His power.”
But Kone only laughed.
The kindly Namoans made the strangers welcome. They feasted them in their clubhouse till the rain was over and the stars shone on the white chief and the dark natives, who gazed with awe on the man who had brought rain in spite of Kone.
After this Mr. Chalmers often met the rainmaker, who loved to sit and listen while the white chief told of the fierce men who lived towards the sun-setting, and of the way in which he had brought peace amongst many of them. Kone offered to visit him at Port Moresby. Tamate was amused. He thought it was only in order to get tobacco and tomahawks and beads that Kone meant to come. Kone did wish to get these things, but the thought of peace had got into his mind, and he had begun to love his new friend greatly too.
Mr. Chalmers wished to place a teacher in the village of Delena, where Kone’s home was. So he stayed there for some time to take charge of the building of a house and to prepare for a school.
One night he saw that all his friends in the village were excited. They feared an attack from the Lolo tribe, who lived near. Natives moved quickly hither and thither. Women glided past and were lost in the bush. They carried bundles. Soon they returned with empty hands. They had hid their treasures. Natives came to him. They whispered to him and pointed to his guns.
“Shoot, Tamate. Shoot for us, and frighten the Loloans and send them away.”
In the simplest words he tried to tell them that he had not come to scatter people, but to gather all together. To bring peace; to change foes into friends.
The troubled natives did not know what he meant. To-night they spoke to this great white chief. To-morrow he and they might be lying dead, and yet he would not shoot!
They could not understand him, but sometimes a glimmer of what he wished flashed on them, and they turned away with a half hope that he would save them some other way if he would not save them by his gun.
On the night of the attack Tamate fell asleep. He was content to trust to the quick ears of his little terrier or the ready alarm of his boy. Beyond the tents great lights were burning, so that no one could steal up unseen.
At two in the morning the alarm came. On every side there was noise and clamour. Tamate’s tent was high above the village. Women and children flocked to it. They tumbled over each other in their eagerness to get into safety and to save their pots and ornaments. In spite of all that Tamate had said, they still hoped that he would use his guns!
Bundles of arrows and spears were carried into the bush and left there in hiding, so that if a warrior had thrown his last spear he had only to dodge into the tanglewood and come out terrible as before! At last the fighting began.
The natives once more urged Tamate to shoot.
“Come down and fight,” they shouted.
He left the women and children in the care of his boy, and hurried down to the village. He had no gun, no spears, no arrows. But he had no fear. He came straight up to the warriors and shouted: “Peace!”
Then the sharp twang of the bow-strings ceased, and the hiss of the spears and arrows came more seldom, till a hush fell over all.
Tamate asked one man after another to give up his arms. And they did. Kone was at his side, and whispered to him:
“Yonder is the Loloan chief.”
Tamate had met this chief before and had not been able to win his friendship. He must try again! He went to him, and somehow or other the next thing that happened was that he and the warrior chief were walking arm-in-arm to the tents. It sounds very funny to read about, but it was very serious that morning.
The Loloan chief promised to stop the fighting, and Tamate let him return to his men. But very soon some of the villagers came rushing up, shouting, “They will kill Kone! They will kill Kone!”
Tamate ran into the fight again. Many more Loloans had come. They danced wildly round in their war paint. Clubs and spears rattled and whizzed on every side. One blow fell on his head, another on his hand. An old friend drew him to the edge of the fight. The Loloan chief came to him.
“We will not hurt you; let us fight it out,” the chief begged.
“No, no; you must stop, and see that you do not hurt my friend Kone.”
When quiet came at last, Mr. Chalmers told them all, that he could not stay with them if they fought so, and that if they wished to have him there, they must not kill each other.
After the Loloans were gone, the men of Delena gathered round him to thank him.
“If you had not been here,” they said, “many of us would have been dead, and the others away from their homes for ever.”
While Tamate stayed at Delena, he had a short service each day at sunrise, and another at sunset. At first the natives came to see what the strange white man did. Afterwards they began to care for what he said. They found that this strong chief, who had brought rain when they did not wish it, and peace when they did wish it, cared very much about the words he spoke at sunrise and at sunset. They could see it. His face glowed. The man who had been calm when the arrows flew about him, grew excited when he spoke of his Master Jesus Christ. So they wondered and listened. But Kone waited when the others went away. He wished to know more. Tamate taught him a prayer: “Great Spirit of Love, give me light! Lead me to Christ, for Jesus’ sake.”
It is very simple, but it was not easy for Kone to learn it. Every now and then a smile came to Tamate’s lips. He saw the rainmaker on his way from the village. He knew why he was coming and what he would say.
“Tamate, I have forgotten it.”
Then he learned it again, and went off gladly, only to come back in a little while and say, “I have forgotten it, Tamate.”
But before the house was built Kone had learned that prayer, so that he could never forget it.
Not long after Mr. Chalmers left Delena a great feast was held there. Kone’s heart was full of love to his white friend who had saved him from death and had brought peace because he knew the great Spirit of Love. Kone, too, wished to bring peace. He would help Tamate’s work and end the strife between the Loloans and the Naara tribe with whom they were at war. He thought the feast would be a good time to begin, so he asked two Naara men to come to Delena for it.
As the dancing began, he saw a Loloan steal up behind one of his Naara friends. The Loloan’s spear was aimed at the stranger. There was no time for Kone to save his guest except in one way. He leapt in front of his friend, and the spear that was meant for the Naara man entered his own breast. He was carried home to die.
“Send for Tamate,” he said, “send for Tamate.” But across the reef and up against the shore a great south-east wind was blowing, and no canoe could face the wildness of the sea.
In the darkness of pain and weakness, Kone could not have the joy of seeing his friend once more. But still in the shadow of death he sought for Tamate’s Master, and murmured the words he had learned so slowly: “Great Spirit of Love, give me light! Lead me to Christ.”
The spear entered his own breast
A few months later, Mr. Chalmers came back to Delena. He wished to go still farther west, and meant to take Kone with him. Kone was a good fellow-traveller. He could speak many languages, he was loved by the natives, and he was a constant joy to Tamate. The great childlike heart of the savage chief was like his own.
When the boat reached Delena, a canoe came out to meet her. But there were no shouts of welcome, and Kone was not there.
A chief stepped on board in silence, and at first would give no answer to the eager question, “Where is Kone?” Then he said, “Oh, Tamate, your friend Kone is dead.”
“Dead?”
“Yes, Kone is dead, and we buried him at your house. The house of his one great friend!”