Early Monday morning Mackay peeped out of the big warehouse door at the
great calm mountain shrouded in the pale mists of early dawn. The other
two travelers were soon astir, and were surprised to find their young
companion all ready. They were not yet well enough acquainted with him
to know that he could do with less sleep at night than an owl. He was in
high spirits and as eager to be off as he had ever been to start for a
day's fishing in the old times back in Ontario. And indeed this was just
a great fishing expedition he was commencing. For had not One said to
him, long long ago when he was but a little boy, "Come follow me, and I
will make you to become a fisher of men"? and he had obeyed. The first
task was to go out and buy food for the journey, and to hire a couple of
coolies to carry it and what baggage they must take.
Dr. Dickson went off on this errand, and being well acquainted with
Formosan customs and language, soon returned with two Chinese carriers
and plenty of food. This last consisted of canned meats, biscuits,
coffee, and condensed milk, bought at a store where ships' supplies were
kept for sale. There was also some salted water-buffalo meat, a Chinese
dish with which the young missionary was destined to become very
familiar.
They started out three abreast, Mr. Ritchie's blue serge figure capped
by a white helmet on the right, Dr. Dickson on the left in his Scotch
tweed, and between them the alert, slim figure of the newcomer, in his
suit of Canadian gray. The coolies, with baskets hung to a pole across
their shoulders, came ambling along behind.
The three travelers were in the gayest mood. Perhaps it was the clear
spring morning air, or the breath of the salt ocean, perhaps it was the
intoxicating beauty of mountain and plain and river that surrounded
them or it may have been because they had given their lives in perfect
service to the One who is the source of all happiness, but whatever was
the cause, they were all like schoolboys off for a holiday. The coolies
who trotted in the rear were very much amazed and not a little amused at
the actions of these foolish foreign devils, who laughed and joked and
seemed in such high spirits for no reason at all.
They swung along the bank of the river until they came to the ferry that
was to take them to the other side. They sprang into the boat and
were shoved off. Before they reached the other side, at Dr. Dickson's
suggestion, they took off their shoes and socks, and stowed them away in
the carriers' baskets. When they came to the opposite bank they rolled
up their trousers to their knees and sprang out into the shallow water.
For a short distance they had the joy of tramping barefoot along the
hard gleaming sand of the harbor.
But shoes and stockings had to be resumed, for soon they turned inland,
on a path that wound up to the high plain above the river. "Do you ever
use a horse on your travels?" asked young Mackay as they climbed upward.
Mr. Ritchie laughed. "You couldn't get one in north Formosa for love or
money. And if you could, he wouldn't be any use."
"Unless he was a second Pegasus, and could soar above the Formosan
roads," added Dr. Dickson. "Wait a bit and you'll understand."
The young missionary waited, and kept his eyes open for the answer.
The pathway crossed a grassy plain where groups of queer-looking,
mouse-colored animals, half ox, half buffalo, with great spreading
horns, strayed about, herded by boys, or lay wallowing in deep pools.
"Water-buffaloes," he said, remembering them as he had seen them in the
south.
"The most useful animal on the island," remarked Mr. Ritchie, adding
with a laugh, "except perhaps the pig. You'll have a taste of Mr.
Buffalo for your dinner, Mackay."
And now they were up on the heights, and the lovely country lay spread
out before them. Mackay mentally compared this walk to many he had taken
along the country roads of his native land. It was early in March, but
as there had been no winter, so there was no spring. It was summer,
warm, radiant summer, like a lovely day in June at home. Dandelions,
violets, and many gay flowers that he did not recognize spangled the
grassy plain. The skylark high overhead was pouring out its glorious
song, just as he had heard it in his student days in Scotland. Here and
there were clumps of fir trees that reminded him of Canada, but on the
whole the scene was new and wonderful to his Western eyes.
They were now on the first level of the rice-fields. The farms were
tiny things, none larger than eight or ten acres. They were divided into
queer-shaped little irrigated fields, separated not by fences, but by
little low walls of mud. Every farm was under water now, and here and
there, wading through his little flooded fields, went the farmer with
his plough, drawn by a useful water-buffalo,--the latter apparently quite
happy at being allowed to splash about in the mud.
These rice-farms soon became a familiar sight to the newcomer. He liked
to see them at all times--when each field was a pretty blue or green
lake, later when the water was choked with the fresh green growth, or in
harvest days, when the farmers stripped the fields of their grain.
Just now they were at their prettiest. Row above row, they went up the
mountainside, like a great glass stairs, each row reflecting the green
hills and the bamboo groves above. And from each terrace to the one
below, the water tumbled in pretty little cascades that sparkled in the
sunlight and filled the air with music. For travelers there were only
narrow paths between farms, and often only the ridge of the dykes
between field and field. As they made their way between the tiny fields,
walking along the narrow dykes, and listening to the splashing sound of
the water, Mackay understood what Dr. Dickson meant, when he remarked
that only a flying horse could be of use on such Formosan cross-country
journeys.
Soon the pathway changed once more to the broader public highway. Here
there was much traffic, and many travelers carried in sedan-chairs
passed them. And many times by the roadside Mackay saw something that
reminded him forcibly of why he had come to Formosa--a heathen shrine.
The whole countryside seemed dotted with them. And as he watched the
worshipers coming and going, and heard the disdainful words from the
priests cast at the hated foreigners, he realized that he was face to
face with an awful opposing force. It was the great stone of heathenism
he had come to break, and the question was, would he be as successful as
he had been long ago in the Canadian pasture-field?
The travelers ate their dinner by the roadside under the shade of some
fir trees that made Mackay feel at home. They were soon up and off
again, and, tired with their long tramp, they arrived at a town called
Tionglek, and decided to spend the night there. The place was about the
size of Tamsui, with between four and five thousand inhabitants, and
was quite as dirty and almost as noisy. They walked down the main street
with its uneven stone pavement, its open shops, its noisy bargains, and
above all its horrible smells. With the exception of an occasional visit
from an official, foreigners scarcely ever came to Tiong-lek, and on
every side were revilings and threatenings. One yellow-faced youngster
picked up a handful of mud and threw it at the hated foreigners; and
"Black-bearded barbarian," mingled with their shouts. Mackay's bright
eyes took in everything, and he realized more and more the difficulties
of the task before him.
They stopped in front of a low one-story building made of sun-dried
bricks. This was the Tiong-lek hotel where they were to spend the
night. Like most Chinese houses it was composed of a number of buildings
arranged in the form of a square with a courtyard in the center. Dr.
Dickson asked for lodgings from the slant-eyed proprietor. He looked
askance at the foreigners, but concluded that their money was as good
as any one else's, and he led them through the deep doorway into the
courtyard.
In the center of this yard stood an earthen range, with a fire in it.
Several travelers stood about it cooking their rice. It was evidently
the hotel dining-room; a diningroom that was open to all too, for
chickens clucked and cackled and pigs grunted about the range and made
themselves quite at home. The men about the gateway scowled and muttered
"Foreign devil," as the three strangers passed them.
They crossed the courtyard and entered their room, or rather stumbled
into it, in semi-darkness. Mackay peered about him curiously. He
discovered three beds, made of planks and set on brick pillars for legs.
Each was covered with a dirty mat woven from grass and reeking with the
odor of opium smoke.
A servant came in with something evidently intended for a lamp--a
burning pith wick set in a saucer of peanut oil. It gave out only a
faint glimmer of light, but enough to enable the young missionary to see
something else in the room,--some THINGS rather, that ran and skipped
and swarmed all over the damp earthen floor and the dirty walls. There
were thousands of these brisk little creatures, all leaping about
in pleasant anticipation of the good time they would have when the
barbarians went to bed. There was no window, and only the one door that
opened into the courtyard. An old pig, evidently more friendly to the
foreigners than her masters, came waddling toward them followed by her
squealing little brood, and flopping down into the mud in the doorway
lay there uttering grunts of content.
The evil smells of the room, the stench from the pigs, and the still
more dreadful odors wafted from the queer food cooking on the range,
made the young traveler's unaccustomed senses revolt. He had a half
notion that the two older men were putting up a joke on him.
"I suppose you thought it wise to give me a strong dose of all this at
the start?" he inquired humorously, holding his nose and glancing from
the pigs at the door to the crawlers on the wall.
"A strong dose!" laughed Mr. Ritchie. "Not a bit of it, young man. Wait
till you've had some experience of the luxuries of Formosan inns. You'll
be calling this the Queen's Hotel, before you've been here long!"
And so indeed it proved later, for George Mackay had yet much to learn
of the true character of Chinese inns. Needless to say he spent a
wakeful night, on his hard plank bed, and was up early in the morning.
The travelers ate their breakfast in a room where the ducks and hens
clattered about under the table and between their legs. Fortunately the
food was taken from their own stores, and in spite of the surroundings
was quite appetizing.
They started off early, drawing in great breaths of the pure morning
air, relieved to be away from the odors of the "Queen's Hotel." Three
hundred feet above them, high against the deep blue of the morning sky,
stood Table Hill, and they started on a brisk climb up its side. The
sun had not risen, but already the farmers were out in their little
water-fields, or working in their tea plantations. The mountain with its
groves of bamboo lay reflected in the little mirrors of the rice-fields.
A steady climb brought them to the summit, and after a long descent on
the other side and a tramp through tea plantations they arrived in
the evening at a large city with a high wall around it, the city of
Tek-chham. That night in the city inn was so much worse than the one at
Tionglek that the Canadian was convinced his friends must have reserved
the "strong dose" for the second night. There were the same smells, the
same sorts of pigs and ducks and hens, the same breeds of lively nightly
companions, and each seemed to have gained a fresh force.
It was a relief to be out in the fields again after the foul odors of
the night, and the travelers were off before dawn. The country looked
more familiar to Mackay this morning, for they passed through wheat and
barley fields. It seemed so strange to wander over a man's farm by
a footpath, but it was a Chinese custom to which he soon became
accustomed.
The sun was blazing hot, and it was a great relief when they entered
the cool shade of a forest. It was a delightful place and George Mackay
reveled in its beauty. Ever since he had been able to run about his
own home farm in Ontario his eyes had always been wide open to observe
anything new. He had studied as much out of doors, all his life, as he
had done in college, and now he found this forest a perfect library of
new Things. Nearly every tree and flower was strange to his Canadian
eyes. Here and there, in sheltered valleys, grew the tree-fern, the most
beautiful object in the forest, towering away up sometimes to a height
of sixty feet, and spreading its stately fronds out to a width of
fifteen feet. There was a lovely big plant with purple stem and purple
leaves, and when Dr. Dickson told him it was the castor-oil plant, he
smiled at the remembrance of the trials that plant had caused him in
younger days. One elegant tree, straight as a pine, rose fifty feet in
height, with leaves away up at the top only.
This was the betel-nut tree.
"The nuts of that tree," said Mr. Ritchie, standing and pointing away
up to where the sunlight filtered through the far-off leaves, "are the
chewing tobacco of Formosa and all the islands about here. The Chinese
do not chew it, but the Malayans do. You will meet some of these natives
soon."
On every side grew the rattan, half tree, half vine. It started off as
a tree and grew straight up often to twenty feet in height, and then
spread itself out over the tops of other trees and plants in vine-like
fashion; some of its branches measured almost five hundred feet in
length.
The travelers paused to admire one high in the branches of the trees.
"Many a Chinaman loses his head hunting that plant," remarked Mr.
Ritchie. "These islanders export a great deal of rattan, and the
head-hunters up there in the mountains watch for the Chinese when they
are working in the forest."
Mackay listened eagerly to his friends' tales of the head-hunting
savages, living in the mountains. They were always on the lookout for
the farmers near their forest lairs. They watched for any unwary man who
went too near the woods, pounced upon him, and went off in triumph with
his head in a bag.
The young traveler's eyes brightened, "I'll visit them some day!" he
cried, looking off toward the mountainside. Mr. Ritchie glanced quickly
at the flashing eyes and the quick, alert figure of the young man as
he strode along, and some hint came to him of the dauntless young heart
which beat beneath that coat of Canadian gray.
Two days more over hill and dale, through rice and tea and
tobacco-fields, and then, in the middle of a hot afternoon, Mr. Ritchie
began to shiver and shake as though half frozen. Dr. Dickson understood,
and at the next stopping-place he ordered a sedan-chair and four coolies
to carry it. It was the old dreaded disease that hangs like a black
cloud over lovely Formosa, the malarial fever. Mr. Ritchie had been a
missionary only four years in the island, but already the scourge had
come upon him, and his system was weakened. For, once seized by malaria
in Formosa, one seldom makes his escape. They put the sick man into the
chair, now in a raging fever, and he was carried by the four coolies.
They were nearing the end of their journey and were now among a people
not Chinese. They belonged to the original Malayan race of the island.
They had been conquered by the Chinese, who in the early days came over
from China under a pirate named Koxinga. As the Chinese name every one
but themselves "barbarians," they gave this name to all the natives of
the island. They had conquered all but the dreaded head-hunters, who,
free in their mountain fastnesses, took a terrible toll of heads
from their would-be conquerors, or even from their own half-civilized
brethren.
The native Malayans who had been subdued by the Chinese were given
different names. Those who lived on the great level rice-plain
over which the missionaries were traveling, were called Pe-po-hoan,
"Barbarians of the plain." Mackay could see little difference between
them and the Chinese, except in the cast of their features, and their
long-shaped heads. They wore Chinese dress, even to the cue, worshiped
the Chinese gods, and spoke with a peculiar Malayan twang.
The travelers were journeying rather wearily over a low muddy stretch
of ground, picking their way along the narrow paths between the
rice-fields, when they saw a group of men come hurrying down the path to
meet them. They kept calling out, but the words they used were not the
familiar "foreign devil" or "ugly barbarian." Instead the people were
shouting words of joyful welcome.
Dr. Dickson hailed them with delight, and soon he and Mr. Ritchie's
sedan-chair were surrounded by a clamorous group of friends.
They had journeyed so far south that they had arrived at the borders
of the English Presbyterian mission, and the people crowding about them
were native Christians. It was all so different from their treatment
by the heathen that Mackay's heart was warmed. When the great stone of
heathenism was broken, what love and kindness were revealed!
The visitors were led in triumph to the village. There was a chapel
here, and they stayed nearly a week, preaching and teaching.
The rest did Mr. Ritchie much good, and at the end of their visit he
was once more able to start off on foot. They moved on from village to
village and everywhere the Pe-po-hoan Christians received them with the
greatest hospitality.
But at last the three friends found the time had come for them to part.
The two Englishmen had to go on through their fields to their south
Formosan home and the young Canadian must go back to fight the battle
alone in the north of the island. He had endeared himself to the two
older men, and when the farewells came they were filled with regret.
They bade him a lingering good-by, with many blessings upon his young
head, and many prayers for success in the hard fight upon which he
was entering. They walked a short way with him, and stood watching
the straight, lithe young figure, SO full of courage and hope until it
disappeared down the valley. They knew only too well the dangers and
trials ahead of him, but they knew also that he was not going into the
fight alone. For the Captain was going with his young soldier.
There was a suspicion of moisture in the eyes of the older missionaries
as they turned back to prepare for their own journey southward.
"God bless the boy!" said Dr. Dickson fervently. "We'll hear of that
young fellow yet, Ritchie. He's on fire."