Seeking Where to Begin by G. F. Jones

Review and Herald Publishing Association · Takoma Park Station, Washington, D. C. · Oct 19, 1916

Seeking Where to Begin

By G. F. Jones

Pioneering Experiences in the Solomon Islands — No. 5

Seeking Where to Begin

G. F. JONES

MANY cannot understand what it would mean to start for a group of islands whose inhabitants were reputed for their fierceness, to have no knowledge of the navigable areas of the islands, to know no particular place where one could make his home, and to be landed among these strange people. This was our experience in entering the Solomon Islands. It seemed a risky undertaking, and the Australasian Union Conference evidently thought so too, for they were willing to supply us with everything we thought we needed—a good substantial motor vessel, a portable house, etc. They were anxious to know the outcome of this soul-hunting expedition, and they drew a breath of relief when in less than three weeks from our landing, we were able to report that we had actually begun clearing for the mission grounds. Their many earnest prayers were fully answered.

It was five o'clock in the evening when we started on our wonderful trip, searching for a location. We had no fears, but were full of joy and expectation. The wind was fresh, and caused our little vessel to cut the waves as it plowed proudly along on the mission her name indicates—“Advent Herald.” After about two hours of this kind of sailing we entered a narrow channel, and with land on both sides there was no more rough sea. It was now night. For many miles we sailed under shelter of the land, with its odor of sweet tropical plants wafted across to us. The air was cool and pleasant, and everything was quiet except our high-tension engine, which was forcing us along rapidly. For four hours we sailed along near the land, but I have been told that not one native lived at any point where we passed. I have since learned that many a long sea trip has to be made to reach the different tribes. In some places we had to go slow or stop; bends had to be rounded and reefs avoided. Then we sailed up a very narrow channel of the sea, like a narrow canal; and when we got through it, we were in one of the loveliest of lagoons. We could go no farther that night, for we were now in the midst of shoals and dangers; so we dropped anchor close to a pretty, small island, and thanked God for the safe and pleasant first trip in the night, and in waters to us then unknown.

We had entered the Rovian Lagoon, a large lagoon studded with pretty islets; the water is a bright green in some places, and in others a deep blue. The next day we continued our voyage. We steered clear of all green patches, and chose the deep-blue channels for safety. Two hours' sailing brought us to a trader's home and store, and close by was the headquarters of the Methodist Mission. Though this mission has been located here among the four or five hundred inhabitants of the lagoon for about fifteen years, not all the people have joined the mission. During our stay of one night in this lagoon I had the pleasure of getting these interested in our mission.

The trader in the Solomons is like all traders. They are generally seafaring men of a daring and adventurous nature. There is nothing they like better than to make a raid on the natives for the least offense, and kill as many as they can. As a rule they hate missionaries, because, they say, they are hypocrites. So they do all they can to prejudice the minds of the natives against missionaries. But the trader and all the others befriended us, gave us reliable information, and welcomed us everywhere. “This is the Lord’s doing, and it is marvelous in our eyes.”

That same evening we sailed a little farther up the lagoon with a new crew borrowed from our friend the trader, and anchored close to a small island for the night. Some canoes, filled with natives, came off, and after a while we sang some of our good old advent hymns to them. They, in turn, sang their native airs. There seemed to be a mutual understanding between us that we were their missionaries, and they belonged to us. This was a heavenly binding, true and lasting. The old chief, who for years had resisted other missions, was that night conquered and won, and has been our stanch friend ever since. This was our first contact with the natives of the Solomon Islands.