At night they all assembled in one of the cottages to hear the afternoon church service performed by Mr. Watson, and Captain Waldegrave describes it as a most striking scene. The place chosen was the bedroom of one of the double cottages, or one with an upper story. The ascent was by a broad ladder from the lower room through a trap-door. The clergyman took his station between two beds, with a lamp burning close behind him. In the bed on his right were three infants sound asleep; at the foot of that on his left were three men sitting. On each side and in front were the men, some wearing only the simple mara, displaying their gigantic figures; others in jackets and trousers, their necks and feet bare; behind stood the women, in their modest home-made cloth dresses, which entirely covered the form, leaving only the head and feet bare. The girls wore, in addition, a sheet knotted in the manner of a Roman senator’s toga, thrown over the right shoulder and under the left arm. When the general confession commenced, they all knelt down facing the clergyman, with their hands raised to the breast in the attitude of prayer, slowly and distinctly repeating the confession after the clergyman. They prayed for the King of England, whom they consider as their sovereign. A sermon followed from a text which Captain Waldegrave thinks was most happily chosen: ’Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father’s good pleasure to give you the kingdom.’ At the conclusion of the service they requested permission to sing their parting hymn, when the whole congregation, in good time, sang ‘Depart in peace.’
Captain Waldegrave, like all former visitors, bears testimony to the kind disposition and active benevolence of these simple islanders. The children, he says, are fond and obedient, the parents affectionate and kind towards their children. None of the party ever heard a harsh word made use of by one towards another. They never slander or speak ill of one another. If any question was asked as to the character or conduct of a particular individual, the answer would probably be something of this kind, ’If it could do any good, I would answer you; but as it cannot, it would be wrong to tell tales’; or if the question applied to one who had committed a fault, they would say, ’It would be wrong to tell my neighbour’s shame.’ The kind and benevolent feeling of these amiable people is extended to the surviving widows of the Otaheite men who were slain on the island, and who would be left in a helpless and destitute state, were it not for the humane consideration of the younger part of the society, by whom they are supported and regarded with every mark of attention.