Show Me the Sky - Nicholas Hogg [37]
If this bloodied back be a subject not fit for conversation, a horror unspeakable, then the missionaries to my cannibal islands must take a vow of silence now!
5 December 1834
Thank the Lord for His kingdom of the deep! The majestic sight of a hundred and more dolphins this afternoon lifted the downcast mood of the Caroline. Glory is surely upon these seraphs of the waves! Scourge of sharks and friends of sailors, they launched from the blue with acrobatic joy, splashing down then surfacing with the laughter of Heaven. When Rev. Jefferson informed me that a group of dolphins is correctly termed a school, I did not have to enquire why, for only children can abandon all for the mindless pleasure of play.
Though seamen are no strangers to the wonders of the deep, many passed comment that indeed none had before seen such an abundance of dolphins swimming as one, and surely this be an omen of good fortune for the Caroline and its passengers – an auspice most readily heard by the reverends and their wives gathered upon the decks as audience to the impromptu show. Christians of the strictest compliance they may be, they are also quick to apply their private superstitions to the work of the Lord, whether contrary to what is written in the good book or not.
10 December 1834
Remarkable progress with the Rev. Stevens continues, along with what one may call a budding friendship. While we are from opposite ends of the earth, our skins as dark and light as night and day, we share a common sense of humour, along with a loving, yet questioning faith for the word of God. Where the Revs Lilywhite, Jefferson, and in particular the Rev. Thomas, deliver sermons as though they were authors of the bible themselves, the Rev. Stevens accepts that a literal translation is not always the true representation of the Lord.
His theological reasoning is not his only endearing quality, as his energetic and youthful approach to life is equalled only by his gentle soul, a man who attends his wife as though she were the most delicate flower in bloom. It is also a joy to talk with him in my mother tongue, despite the range of our conversation being limited to his basic vocabulary. Numerous times his mispronunciation has produced much mirth, with mistakes such as, ‘Who is the dog of this island?’ and ‘How long have you been a banana?’ reducing us both to laughing fools. The Rev. Stevens always took these errors in good humour, and it occurs to me that those unafraid of their ignorance are quicker to learn than the proud and fearful.
14 December 1834
It is in direct contrast to the character of Rev. Stevens that I must write of the Rev. Thomas, for when he addresses me it is as though I were the dirt upon the end of his shoe. I realise how lucky I am that it is not he I am escorting to Fiji, for he seems a man who has taken on God in fear and guilt, not love and light. He may hold the bible in his hand when he speaks, but it does not mean the words rest within his heart. A man of the cloth perhaps, I doubt he considers true the adage that ‘All men are created equal’. Before his eyes I am little more than an animal with a voice, the savage boy saved by God and England, my dark skin a label of stupidity, a rank of nothing more than upright beast.
Only yesterday I was preparing a Fijian lesson in the mess when I heard the Rev. Thomas and the second officer in his quarters discussing my superior language skills. Thinking I would hear my first compliment from a man who had thus far spoken to me as though I were no better than his servant, I put my ear to the planked wall and listened. ‘Nonsense!’ I heard the rev. proclaim. ‘He is no more remarkable than a monkey in Covent Garden. Trained to work tricks for rotten apples.’
Unfortunately he is not the only white man who holds up the light to guide the way for others, yet himself stands in shadow.
17 December 1834
Whipped along by the wind and waves that crash into each other from two different oceans,