Taupou's Grave

A Strange incident of the Samoan Eruption of 1905

As told by Chief liga to W.W.B.

SHE was the pride of the village of Saleaula, which lies along the northern coast of the island of Savaii.

She was the High Chief’s daughter, and beautiful.

When arrayed in all her finery, she stepped from her fale to lead in feast and gaiety, all men acclaimed her, and the women agreed that she did honour to her sex.

But sickness came, and she drew near to death. All made earnest prayer, day and night, that she might live; but it was not to be.

Then was there great grief in that village, for their Taupou lay dead. The young men mourned for her, whom they loved to serve, and her maids of honour refused to be comforted.

The grave was dug—not close to, but within sight of the church, for the High Chief would have his daughter lie against his fale, that he and his might tend the grave readily, as long as life should last.

Great was the sorrow that day in Sale aula, as the Village Virgin was laid away, and the earth hid from sight that form which all loved so well. They raised a tomb above it—the flat slab of coral rock all plastered over with lime, then, upon that they made what white men call a sarcophagus, as if Tulua lay there, robed in her winding sheet. That was in 1895. * * * rN times the seasons had come round, and all was peace in Saleaula. Yet, all unknown, a great and fearsome thing was close impending. Nature was at war with itself behind the village: up in the mountains and valleys of Savaii. This was no surface war, when fierce winds blow and the mighty sea rolls shore ward in tidal wave. Below and hidden from the sight of men went on that titanic struggle.

How long it had been fighting against itself, no man could tell; but. at last, the muffled roar reached the ears of the village, in tremblings and rumblings, which made all hearts quail. They great ly feared, yet went their daily round.

Then came the blow, so awful, so ap palling, which the villagers still speak of with bated breath.

Two miles back lay a deep ravine, which cut off the mountains beyond from Saleaula—a broad ravine, too, a labour to get down and up. Suddenly, as that memorable afternoon wore on, there was an unearthly noise, and the ravine came up, mountain to the sky. It was no longer a ravine, but a towering hill; and, from its summit, there poured forth flames and smoke, and over its awe some lip poured rivers of molten lava seawards.

And Saleaula lay directly in its path.

Slowly it came, not faster than half a mile a day, but it was relentless. There was ample time to get the people away.

But what of their homes? And which way would it take?

Men drew near and, though the fierce heat hurt them, they stood and watched, fascinated. Eight miles of land it spread across, and took down all that was in its path. The coconut trees fell one by one, sizzled in the flood, then lay still till utterly consumed. Streams of water hissed and fought till they could fight no more, then they too died.

Saleaula was now in real danger.

Slowing, the living, creeping thing came on, and gripped the back of it. The fales fell one by .one, toppling over as if loath to surrender. Graves so precious were wiped out. The taro patches disappeared. Saleaula was doomed.

But, no! The lava turned, and the western half was safe But the eastern?

Where Tulua lay, and the church raised its roof, and where the settlement was thickest—there was seemingly no hope for these.

The molten flood came slowly on, trees and fales falling, creeping towards the Taupou’s grave. Men and women stood afar off. and held their breath, as that hallowed spot was about to be wiped out and buried six feet deep.

Then some Hand Invisible stayed its direct course, some word seemed given forth to Nature in its madness. The flood stayed, as it reached the spot, and

swept around instead—then went for ward, wining all out, till it reached the sea.

There, to-day, lies the Taupou’s grave a m ir ac le of Nature, a thing incredible were it not true, and to be seen by all.

Let explain who can.

The natives, in their simple faith, af firm that God knew her purity and gen tleness, and saved her resting place, so that men might learn what He thinks 0 f such. There it is, and you stand on the black, forbidding lava and look down six feet into the circle; and there, ex actly in the centre, is the grave, a clear space all around where flowers grew and still do grow.

The church nearby also was saved. The lava flowed directly towards its east end, where the table of communion stood, Fifty yards back stood the pastor’s fale, and between home and church was a garden plot. The red-hot flood brought

down the fale and swallowed up both it and the garden; but it swept around each side of the House of God, yet left a space between the walls and itself; and then, as if it had obeyed its Master but resented the command, the two waves met and, forcing in the front door, pour ed in to fill the nave, filled up to the window sills, yet stopped shortly before the table.

Who can account for this? It is one of Nature’s wonders.

So far liga, in the very words taken

down from his lips. His amanuensis adds but this one comment —for we two men had together roamed over the stricken land, and seen the things here related —as one stands on that lava-field of eight square miles, and notes the utter desolation wrought, one is awe-struck at the saving of that church and of the Taupou’s lovely grave.

Mr. Henry W. H. Huntington, formerly a resident of Papua, died in a private hospital in Sydney on December 14.