Revised Jun 1 2021
ABOUT the middle of the year 1880 seven of the youth from Norfolk Island came on a visit to the old home of their parents. Scarcely any communication passed between the two islands, so that the event of their coming was improved in learning all about the state of the island and people they had lately left.
The friends of the young men noticed with surprise that, with but one exception, they were all slaves to the tobacco habit, both chewing and smoking, for not one among the youth of the island practiced the unclean vice. The captain of the whale ship with whom they had come was himself a total abstainer as regarded both tobacco and spirits, but all his endeavors to reform the young men under his command, example and precept notwithstanding, failed to have the desired effect. He was more successful when he attempted a reform among the old men of the island, in one case at least, as the following incident will show.
In a meeting held on Sunday evening the captain addressed himself to the tobacco users, seven in number, and those, five at least, the oldest men in the community. He spoke very strongly against the bad habit to which they were addicted, and its consequent evil results. Some of his hearers were for the moment impressed with his appeals, and two of them almost decided to abandon the vice forever. They respected their would-be reformer enough not to indulge in the practice in his presence. On the following morning, as one of the men was walking along the road with a lighted pipe in his mouth, he espied the captain a few yards ahead of him waiting to give him a warm morning greeting. Regardless of the consequences, in the fear of being found out, he quickly caught the heated clay pipe from his lips and thrust it into his pocket, which was as quickly burnt through. Though smarting with the pain, he bravely shook hands with the captain and passed on, not daring to betray his pipe, even at the cost of suffering. But it was the last struggle he had with the habit, for from that day it was abandoned, and he was made free, yet "so as by fire."
It was during this same year, 1880, that an unusual and very peculiar visitation appeared among the community, affecting only the younger members, eleven or twelve young persons in all having been subject to it. The disease, if such it may be called, was temporary insanity, the case that lasted the longest not extending over two years. The first symptom of the attack was a strange hallucination of the mind, the person affected seeing some object which greatly terrified him, or hearing voices calling to him, then gradually losing all recollection of former events, until the mind became an utter blank. One peculiar feature of the disease was a distorted vision, that transformed every object into something different to what it was, as, for instance, a full-grown man or woman appeared as but a child, while a mere baby would assume the full proportions of a man. In almost every case the patient was calm and quiet; the power of speech seemed taken away, while the vacant stare showed that the mind had lost control over itself.
One case was that of a youth who had been ship wrecked, and whose stay was prolonged on the island. This was in 1881. One morning he declared that during the night he saw his mother's coffin pass above him out of the window, and nothing could persuade him that it was a delusion. A few hours afterwards he became oblivious to everything that was going on around him, and in the very first stage of the disease was entirely deprived of the power of speech. When speech returned after a few days, he employed himself searching from house to house for some fancied friend who was unjustly condemned to prison, and whom he was sparing no effort to release. On one occasion he wandered away during the night to the opposite side of the island, where he was found by a party who went in search, sleeping under an over hanging rock, wrapped up in his scout's blanket, for at that stage of his derangement he declared that he was Davy Crockett out on an Indian trail. Davy Crockett was only one out of the many different characters whom he personated in the different stages of the disease.
Many and various were the phases that the disease assumed, each patient being acted upon in a different manner. There has never been any satisfactory explanation of the cause that produced it. The case above mentioned as being of longest duration was that of a young girl whose mind became affected in April, 1884, and was restored in the early part of the year 1886. Since that time the peculiar disease has not made its appearance.
In the early part of 1881 two young men left the island to venture for the first time as far as England. There every kindness that could be shown them was bestowed. One of them, however, almost immediately on landing, was secured as a highly prized specimen of the human species, to be exhibited in the Westminster Aquarium. Entirely ignorant of the intention of the parties who had obtained him, he consented to their proposal to accompany them, and they were soon speeding away from Liverpool to London, where he was duly settled in his place in the aquarium, and advertised. "Does he eat like other people?" was one of the many questions that amused him, as it was earnestly put by one of the spectators. A bluff old sea captain was very indignant that he had to pay for the privilege of seeing an old acquaintance whom he had twice visited in his far-away island home.
But he was not kept long in his unenviable position, for the Rev. A. W. Drew, a clergyman of the Church of England, no sooner learned of the facts of the case than he immediately came to the rescue. He at once had the visitor from Pitcairn Island, whose health was much impaired, removed to his own home, where he was taken care of and waited upon in his hours of weakness and suffering with every attention and care that kindness and love could suggest. Even when his life was all but despaired of the good clergyman and his estimable wife never gave up their hope and trust in God that He would bless the efforts that were made to restore their guest to health again. Their house was his home during the rest of his stay, and the unwearying love and care manifested by the many friends who came to see him, as well as by the clergyman and his family, made an impression upon his mind that could never be effaced. The other visitor shared the same kindness and attention that were so lavishly bestowed upon his companion, the worthy people of Hull, to which port his ship went, doing all that lay in their power for him while he stayed with them. On their arrival in San Francisco they experienced everywhere they went the utmost favors that thoughtfulness could suggest or friendship could show.
In June of the same year another of the young men from the island left for England. The two who preceded him returned home after an absence of one year and two years respectively, but the third, Richard Young, never came back, and after a period of nine years' absence, died in Oakland, California.
In the meantime another shipwrecked crew had been thrown upon the hospitality of the islanders. The English ship Acadia, outward bound from San Francisco, in about a month from leaving that port, was wrecked on Ducie Island. As soon as it was ascertained that the ship could not be saved, preparations were made to abandon her. The crew were able to save a considerable portion of their clothes, and, putting into their two boats as much provision as they could safely carry, made sail for Pitcairn Island, stopping for a day at Elizabeth Island. On leaving the ship, one of their number, the boatswain, received the untimely discharge of a pistol in his body, which fortunately did not prove serious.
On leaving Elizabeth Island, the wind, being in their favor, enabled them to make a speedy passage to the place whither they were bound, and on the morning of the second day the shipwrecked mariners were gladdened by the sight of the English flag hoisted on the high peak above the landing place. As before, the men were taken in by the different families, in twos and threes, until they should have an opportunity to leave. This soon occurred, Captain George, the first officer, Mr. John Simpson, and two or three of the lads that were with them on the Acadia, leaving on the American ship Edward O'Brien, for England.
It may not be out of place to say here that, the trial that awaited them having terminated favorably, Captain George and Mr. Simpson each accepted a berth on board the steamer Escambia, the former occupying the position of first officer, and Mr. Simpson a grade lower. The Escambia left London for China, going thence to San Francisco, where, after loading, an attempt was made to put to sea before the cargo had been properly adjusted. This imprudent act ended disastrously, for the vessel keeled over and sank in a few minutes. Most of those on board went down with the ship, and amongst those who thus perished were the late captain and mate of the ill-fated Acadia. Of the rest of the crew left on the island, three took passage for England on the American ship Alfred D. Snow, and, later on, the remainder returned to San Francisco, with the exception of three, who chose to remain on the island, and a youth, whose home and parents were in San Francisco, but who had been unfairly left behind. Nor did he have an opportunity to return home until after a nine months' stay on the island.
Two of the men whose choice was to remain were after a while married, one making his home on the island, while the other, after a stay of three years, left with wife and two little children for his home in Wales, where the wife and mother died in less than a year.
The third, the carpenter of the ship, had also decided to follow his two shipmates' example, and succeeded, not wisely but too well, in winning the affections of a girl who was shortly to be married to one of the island men. But the unfortunate attachment ended unhappily, for some of the young woman's relatives, indignant at the turn of affairs, set themselves to put the matter right, according to their judgment, and enlisted the sympathies of the magistrate in their favor. He soon had an opportunity, from a fancied insult to himself, to order the Englishman off the island. The act, unjust in itself, was carried out, and he left the island on the British man-of-war Sappho, in July, 1882. Captain Clark, of the Sappho, did not conceal his opinion of the whole proceedings, but openly declared the injustice of the act. However, in accordance with the magistrate's strongly expressed wish, he received the carpenter on board his ship, and gave him a passage to Honolulu, where he obtained suitable employment.
In letters received from him he denounced bitterly and in unsparing terms all who had shared in the unworthy strife that ended in his being sent away. Before leaving, Captain Clark, by special request, framed a law which forbade henceforth the marriage of a stranger to any of the islanders, with the intention of settling amongst them. Several reasons were given why such a law should be made, the principal one being that the population was increasing quite rapidly enough without any addition from the outside. The law was afterwards amended by a clause stating that should anyone whose stay could benefit the island, wish to settle there, he might do so. But as the island offered no inducement whatever to anyone outside of its own inhabitants as desirable place for a home, there was no danger of any addition to the population from outsiders, and the law might have remained as it was originally written.