On the evening of November 19th, the ship lay too off Erromanga, the island which Williams had before been warned against entering, because of the ferocious character of the natives. But the Gospel pioneer must not let fear deter him from carrying the standard further afield, when he is clear that the will of God is that he go forward. As the vessel quietly glided along the shore of the southern side of the island, amid placid stillness, they discovered a tribe of natives following along, evidently enjoying the sight of the vessel. After casting anchor, a boat was lowered, and Mr. Williams, accompanied by Messrs. Harris and Cunningham, stepped on board and began rowing toward the shore. The chief brought cocoanuts and fresh water to the visitors, the children danced in glee along the beach, and everything seemed favorable to a landing.
The three missionaries left the boat and went inland. They began communicating by signs with the natives, then distributed a few pieces of calico and some fish hooks among them. As they walked along the shore, the three missionaries being in different groups of natives, became separated a little distance from each other. All of a sudden, a loud yell was heard, and the natives were seen running after Harris, who was going toward the boat. Immediately he was seen to fall on the edge of the water, struck down by clubs and spears. Williams, who was further inland, did not know what had happened until he heard the war shell blown by the natives, and the yell of war raised as a signal of hostilities begun. Mr. Williams then started for the beach, followed by a native, who struck him a blow with his club on the arm, He fell into the water, upon which a second native appeared and beat him with his club. Soon a volley of arrows were thrust into his body, his blood coloring the water all around. Then the bodies were dragged out from the water, and carried into the bush, where, as the savages afterwards confessed, they were eaten, except the heads, which were given to the captain of a man-of-war sent from Sydney to investigate the tragedy. These remains of the martyr missionaries were reverently borne to Samoa, where they were interred.
When the tidings reached Britain, there was great mourning. But the blood of the martyrs was not shed in vain, for others have since entered upon the scene of their death, and many of the people and servants of God have been stirred up to send and take the Gospel to the dark and degraded tribes of Polynesia.
When the sad news reached Samoa, the natives were overwhelmed with grief, and cried out “Alas, our father!” a name which they had long given to Mr. Williams, for whom they had the greatest respect. Mourning was worn on all hands for the martyred missionaries, and the grief-stricken natives said one to another, “We cannot sleep at nights for thinking of them.” One native woman came to the English Consul at Tahiti, bearing in her hand a silver coin, with which she desired to purchase a portrait of the man who had first brought the Gospel of peace to her village, and was never to return any more.
The natives of Erromango, who committed the dark deed, were stirred up, it is supposed, to commit such outrages by the high-handed proceedings of certain foreigners, who landed on their island with an armed force, built a fort to protect themselves, and then commenced to cut down at their pleasure the sandal wood belonging to the natives. These white men plundered and killed several of the islanders, chasing a number more into a cave, in which the helpless fugitives thought they would find a place of refuge. When once they had got them secured in this trap, the soldiers pulled down the native huts, piling the dry rafters and other inflammable materials at the cave’s mouth, which they then set on fire, and suffocated the whole of the helpless creatures imprisoned within. It is scarcely to be wondered at, that such atrocious conduct at the hands of so-called civilized white men, should be avenged at the hands of the enraged heathen, by such outrages as the death of Mr. Williams and his companion. They naturally look upon all white men alike, and thus the heralds of the Gospel of peace have frequently to suffer for the evil deeds of their countrymen.
When the news of her husband’s death reached Mrs. Williams, she was overwhelmed with grief, and after nobly remaining at her post to assist those who were seeking to carry on the work begun by her devoted husband, leaving her eldest son and his wife in Samoa, she returned to England in 1842, where the evening of her life was spent in service for the Lord among the poor and the needy in the slums and alleys of the great metropolis. Looking back to the lands in which she had served the Lord, and for whose dwellers her husband had laid down his life, she wrote, when off Cape Horn, a last farewell to the lands of the South, of which the following extracts tell the character, and show the spirit in which it was written:
“Farewell, rolling ocean, on whose bosom we have been borne from island to island, honoured by carrying the glad tidings of the Gospel of Peace to the benighted inhabitants!”
“Natives! you who have felt and known that the Lord is gracious, farewell! May you be kept from the evils which you profess to have thrown away, and be faithful unto death that you may receive a crown of life.”
“Heathens ! I weep for you while I say—Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do!”
“My dear children, I trust I say farewell, only for a season. If spared, I hope to welcome you in the land of your fathers.”
On June 15th, 1851, she quietly passed away to be with the Lord. A friend who stood by her dying pillow, remarked how glad she would be to meet again her beloved husband in heaven, to which the dying saint replied— “O yes! What a day that will be! What a blessed day!” And now they rest from their labors together in the Lord’s presence, waiting for the fuller joy and bliss of the resurrection morning.
“There to reap in joy forever,
Fruit that grows from seed here sown;
There to be with Him who never
Fails to give a glad ‘well done,’
And in triumph
Crowns with glory bright His own.”
The toils and the trials of those who go forth to unknown lands with the Gospel are indeed very great, and can only be endured as “seeing Him who is invisible,” cleaving to the Lord and His faithful Word. But the recompense and the reward of faithful service for His honored Name are sure in the coming Coronation day, to which in steadfast faith and unwavering hope the toil-worn laborer looks, and for which, while diligently serving, he waits, for the full results of his toil. What though the work be toilsome, and the success as man sees and reckons but small! The Lord of the harvest, who seeth not as man seeth, the Righteous Judge, will be on the beema, and will mete out to every man according as his work shall be.
In that coming day, when from every tribe and nation, from continents, islands, and distant shores, the ransomed throng will gather around the Lord who loved them and gave Himself for them, there will be found some (O that they may be a mighty host!) washed in the blood of the, Lamb, and saved by sovereign grace through the Gospel’s mighty power, from the darkest shades of CANNIBAL LAND.