there was refused on the ground that Norfolk Island
belonged to the see of Tasmania, and not to that of
New Zealand. But the Bishop of Tasmania could
hardly visit it without great inconvenience, and he
had therefore placed it under the care of his brother
of New Zealand, full in whose track it lay.
The matter was referred to the Colonial Secretary,
and in the meantime Bishop Selwyn adhered to his purpose
of visiting it on leaving Sydney, and though he could
not place his chaplain there, leaving Mrs. Selwyn
to assist in the work of training the new comers to
the novelties of a more temperate climate and a more
genial soil than they had known on the torrid rock
of Pitcairn’s Island.
Accordingly, on the 4th of July, the ‘Southern
Cross’ again approached the island, and finding
that the Pitcairners had come, and that their magistrate
and Mr. Nobbs, their clergyman, would gladly welcome
assistance, the Bishop brought Mrs.
Selwyn on shore,
and left her there to assist Mr. Nobbs in preparing
the entire population to be confirmed on his return.
But the Pitcairners have been amply written about,
and as Coleridge Patteson’s connection with them
was only incidental, I shall not dwell on them or
their history.
The ‘Southern Cross’ reached Anaiteum
on the 14th of July. This island was occupied
by Mr. Inglis and Mr. Greddie, of the Scottish Presbyterian
Mission, who had done much towards improving the natives.
Small canoes soon began to come off to the vessel,
little craft consisting of no more than the trunk
of a tree hollowed out, seldom more than a foot broad,
and perhaps eighteen inches deep, all with outriggers—namely,
a slight wooden frame or raft to balance them, and
for the most part containing two men, or sometimes
three or four. Before long, not less than fifteen
or twenty had come on board, with woolly hair and
mahogany skins, generally wearing a small strip of
calico, but some without even this. They were
small men, but lithe and supple, and walked about
the deck quite at ease, chattering in a language no
one understood except the words ’Missy Inglis,’
as they pointed to a house. Presently another
canoe arrived with a Samoan teacher with whom the
Bishop could converse, and who said that Mr. Geddie
was at Mare. They were soon followed by a whale
boat with a Tahitian native teacher, a Futuma man,
and a crew of Anaiteans.
’The Futuma man had expended his energies upon
his hair, which was elaborately dressed after a fashion
that precluded the possibility of any attention being
bestowed upon the rest of his person, which was accordingly
wholly unencumbered with any clothing. The perfection
of this art apparently consisted in gathering up about
a dozen hairs and binding them firmly with grass or
fine twine of cocoa-nut fibre plastered with coral
lime. As the hair grows, the binding is lengthened
also, and only about four or five inches are suffered
to escape from this confinement, and are then frizzed
