a certain sense of fear
that they gave him, lest they were too vast to be accomplished by his
means and in his lifetime, but with the sanguine buoyancy of a man still
in full vigour, and who had met with almost unmixed success.

On the 20th of November, 1839, the vessel entered Dillon's Bay, and a
canoe with three men paddled up to her. A boat was lowered, in which Mr.
Williams, two other missionaries named Harris and Cunningham, Captain
Morgan, and four sailors seated themselves. They tried to converse with
the natives, but the language proved to be unlike any in use in Polynesia
(it is, in fact, one of the Melanesian dialects), and not a word could be
made out.

Pulling into a creek, some beads and a small looking-glass were thrown to
the natives, and water asked for by signs. It was brought, and this gave
more confidence. Harris then waded ashore. At first the people ran
away, but Mr. Williams called to him to sit down, and, on his doing so,
they came nearer, and offered him some cocoa-nut milk. Mr. Williams
observed little boys at play, and thought it a good sign. Captain Morgan
wished they had been women, because the natives always send their wives
out of the way when they mean violence. However, Williams landed, and
divided some cloth among those who stood nearest. Then Harris began to
walk forward into the bush, Williams following, and, with a crowd of
natives round him, was counting in Samoan, trying whether the boys around
would recognize the names of the figures. Cunningham did not like the
countenances of the natives, and remarked it to him, but was not heard.
Stooping to pick up a shell, Cunningham was startled by a yell, and
Harris came rushing along, pursued by a native. Williams turned and
looked, a blast on a shell was heard, and he too fled. Cunningham
reached the boat in safety, but Harris fell in crossing a small brook,
and the natives were at once upon him with their clubs. Williams had
made for the sea, apparently intending to swim off and let the boat pick
him up, but the beach was stony; he fell as he reached the water, and the
natives with their clubs and arrows had fallen upon him before Morgan
could turn his boat's head to the spot, under a shower of arrows, which
forced him to put off.

He saw the body lying on the beach, and fired a gun, loaded with powder,
in hopes of driving away the natives and rescuing it; but they dragged it
away into the bush, and all that was left for h