Gravestone Smash

In the mission, as a boy, a gravestone was delivered to the small island of Beru, to be kept on our veranda while the spirit of a Gilbertese child "first found rest". The gravestone's inscription was up against the veranda wall, behind it. But I wanted to see it, and pulled the gravestone from the wall.  It was heavy for me, and it toppled and smashed my left big toe. Our house help Temeeti came to the rescue and lifted the gravestone. But now we had a boy badly injured on a remote island, without Western help. My mother recalls: "A native bone setter came and stroked the broken toe back into shape." Then a Roman Catholic nun, Miss Maxfield, doctored me every day. As I remember, two Western doctors arrived a fortnight later. (This week, wife E. said to me: "Your toe really was messed up.")