The missionary was now becoming a familiar figure both in Tamsui and in
the surrounding country. By many he was loved, by all he was respected,
but by a large number he was bitterly hated. The scholars continued
his worst enemies. They could never forgive him for beating them so
completely in argument, in the days when A Hoa was striving for the
light, and their hatred increased as they saw other scholars becoming
Christians under his teaching. There was something about him, however,
that compelled their respect and even their admiration. Wherever they
met him--on the street, by their temples, or on the country roads--he
bore himself in such a way as to make them confess that he was their
superior both in ability and knowledge.
These Chinese literati had a custom which Mackay found very interesting.
One proud scholar marching down the street and scarcely noticing the
obsequious bows of his inferiors, would meet another equally proud
scholar. Each would salute the other in an exceedingly grand manner, and
then one would spin off a quotation from the writings of Confucius or
some other Chinese sage and say, "Now tell me where that is found."
And scholar number two had to ransack his brains to remember where the
saying was found, or else confess himself beaten. Mackay thought it
might be a good habit for the graduates of his own alma mater across the
wide sea to adopt. He wondered what some of his old college chums would
think, if, when he got back to Canada, he should buttonhole one on the
street some day, recite a quotation from Shakespeare or Macaulay, and
demand from his friend where it could be found. He had a suspicion that
the old friend would be afraid that the Oriental sun had touched George
Mackay's brain.
Nevertheless he thought the custom one he could turn to good account,
and before long he was trying it himself. He had such a wonderful memory
that he never forgot anything he had once read. So the scholars of
north Formosa soon discovered, again to their humiliation, that this Kai
Bok-su of Tamsui could beat them at their own game. They did not care
how much he might profess to know of writers and lands beyond China.
Such were only barbarians anyway. But when, right before a crowd,
he would display a surer knowledge of the Chinese classics than they
themselves, they began not only to respect but to fear him. It was
no use trying to humiliate him with a quotation. With his bright eyes
flashing, he would tell, without a moment's hesitation, where it
was found and come back at the questioner swiftly with another, most
probably one long forgotten, and reel it off as though he had studied
Chinese all his life.
He was a wonderful man certainly, they all agreed, and one whom it was
not safe to oppose. The common people liked him better every day. He was
so tactful, so kind, and always so careful not to arouse the
prejudice of the heathen. He was extremely wise in dealing with their
superstitions. No matter how absurd or childish They might be, he never
ridiculed them, but only strove to show the people how much happier they
might be if they believed in God as their Father and in Jesus Christ
as their Savior. He never made light of anything sacred to the Chinese
mind, but always tried to take whatever germ of good he could find
in their religion, and lead on from it to the greater good found in
Christianity. He discovered that the ancestral worship made the younger
people kind and respectful to older folk, and he saw that Chinese
children reverenced their parents and elders in a way that he felt many
of his young friends across the sea would do well to copy.
One day when he and A Hoa were out on a preaching tour, the wise Kai
Bok-su made use of this respect for parents in quieting a mob. He and
his comrade were standing side by side on the steps of a heathen temple
as they had done at Kelung. The angry crowd was scowling and muttering,
ready to throw stones as soon as the preacher uttered a word. Mackay
knew this, and when they had sung a hymn and the people waited, ready
for a riot, his voice rang out clear and steady, repeating the fifth
commandment "Honor thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long
upon the land which the Lord thy God giveth thee." A silence fell over
the muttering crowd, and an old heathen whose cue was white and whose
aged hands trembled on the top of his staff, nodded his head and said,
"That is heavenly doctrine." The people were surprised and disarmed. If
the black-bearded barbarian taught such truths as this, he surely was
not so very wicked after all. And so they listened attentively as he
went on to show that they had all one great Father, even God.
He sometimes found it rather a task to treat with respect that which the
Chinese held sacred. Especially was this so when he discovered to his
amusement and to some carefully concealed disgust, that in the Chinese
family the pig was looked upon with affection, and as a young naval
officer, who visited Mackay remarked, "was treated like a gentleman."
Every Chinese house of any size was made up of three buildings joined
together so as to make three sides of an enclosure. This space was
called a court, and a door led from it to another next the street. In
this outer yard pigs and fowl were always to be found. Whenever the
missionary dropped in at a home, mother pig and all the little pigs
often followed him inside the house, quite like members of the family.
Every one was always glad to see Kai Bok-su, pigs and all, and as soon
as he appeared the order was given--"Infuse tea." And when the little
handleless cups of clear brown liquid were passed around and they all
drank and chatted, Mrs. Pig and her children strolled about as welcome
as the guest.
The Chinese would allow no one to hurt their pigs, either. One day as
Mackay sat in his rooms facing the river, battling with some new
Chinese characters, he heard a great hubbub coming up the street. The
threatening mobs that used to surround his house had long ago ceased to
trouble him. He arose in some surprise and went to the door to see what
was the matter. A very unusual sight for Tamsui met his gaze. Coming
up the street at a wild run were some half-dozen English sailors, their
loose blue blouses and trousers flapping madly. They were evidently from
a ship which Mackay had seen lying in the harbor that morning.
"Give us a gun!" roared the foremost as soon as he saw the missionary.
Mackay did not possess a gun, and would not have given the enraged
bluejacket one had he owned a dozen. But the Chinese mob, roaring with
fury, were coming up the street after the men and he swiftly pointed out
a narrow alley that led down to the river. "Run down there!" he shouted
to the sailors. "You can get to your boats before they find you."
They were gone in an instant, and the next moment the crowd of
pursuers were storming about the door demanding whither the enemy had
disappeared.
"What is all this disturbance about?" demanded Kai Bok-su calmly, glad
of an opportunity to gain time for the fleeing sailors.
The aggrieved Chinese gathered about him, each telling the story as
loud as his voice would permit. Those barbarians of the sea had come
swaggering along the streets waving their big sticks. And they had
dared--yes actually DARED--to hit the pet pigs belonging to every house
as they passed. The poor pigs who lay sunning themselves at the door!
This was indeed a serious offense. Mackay could picture the rollicking
sailor-lads gaily whacking the lazy porkers with their canes as they
passed, happily unconscious of the trouble they were raising. But there
was no amusement in Kai Bok-su's grave face. He spoke kindly, and
soothingly, and promised that if the offenders misbehaved again he would
complain to the authorities. That made it all right. Heathen though they
were, they knew Kai Bok-su's promise would not be broken, and away they
went quite satisfied.
One day he learned, quite by accident, a new and very useful way of
helping his people. He and A Hoa and several other young men who had
become Christians, went on a missionary tour to Tek-chham, a large city
which he had visited once before.
On the day they left the place, Kai Boksu's preaching had drawn such
crowds that the authorities of the city became afraid of him. And
when the little party left, a dozen soldiers were sent to follow the
dangerous barbarian and his students and see that they did not bewitch
the people on the road.
The soldiers tramped along after the missionary party, and with his
usual ability to make use of any situation, Mackay stepped back and
chatted with his spies. He found one poor fellow in agony with the
toothache. This malady was very common in north Formosa, partly owing
to the habit of chewing the betel-nut. He examined the aching tooth and
found it badly decayed. "There is a worm in it," the soldier said,
for the Formosan doctors had taught the people this was the cause of
toothache.
Mackay had no forceps, but he knew how to pull a tooth, and he was not
the sort to be daunted by the lack of tools. He got a piece of hard
wood, whittled it into shape and with it pried out the tooth. The
relief from pain was so great that the soldier almost wept for joy and
overwhelmed the tooth-puller with gratitude. And for the remainder of
the journey the guards sent to spy on the missionary's doings were his
warmest friends.
After this, dentistry became a part of this many-sided missionary's
work. He went to a native blacksmith and had a pair of forceps hammered
out of iron. It was a rather clumsy instrument, but it proved of great
value, and later he sent for a complete set of the best instruments made
in New York.
So with forceps in one hand and the Bible in the other, Mackay found
himself doubly equipped. Every second person seemed to be suffering from
toothache, and when the pain was relieved by the missionary, the patient
was in a state of mind to receive his teaching kindly. The cruel methods
by which the native doctors extracted teeth often caused more suffering
than the toothache, and sometimes even resulted in death through
blood-poisoning.
A Hoa and some of the other young converts learned from their teacher
how to pull a tooth, and they, too, became experts in the art.
Whenever they visited a town or city after this, they had a program
which they always followed. First they would place themselves in front
of an idol temple or in an open square. Here they would sing a hymn
which always attracted a crowd. Next, any one who wanted a tooth pulled
was invited to come forward. Many accepted the invitation gladly and
sometimes a long line of twenty or thirty would be waiting, each his
turn. The Chinese had considerable nerve, the Canadian discovered, and
stood the pain bravely. They literally "stood" it, too, for there was
no dentist's chair and every man stood up for his operation, very much
pleased and very grateful when it was over. Then there were quinine and
other simple remedies for malaria handed round, for in a Formosan crowd
there were often many shaking in the grip of this terrible disease.
And now, having opened the people's hearts by his kindness, Kai Bok-su
brought forth his cure for souls. He would mount the steps of the temple
or stand on a box or stone, and tell the wonderful old story of the man
Jesus who was also God, and who said to all sick and weary and troubled
ones, "Come unto me,... and I will give you rest." And often, when he
had finished, the disease of sin in many a heart was cured by the remedy
of the gospel.
And so the autumn passed away happily and busily, and Mackay entered his
first Formosan winter. And such a winter! The young man who had felt the
clear, bright cold of a Canadian January needed all his fine courage to
bear up under its dreariness. It started about Christmas time. Just when
his own people far away in Canada were gathering about the blazing fire
or jingling over the crisp snow in sleighs and cutters, the great winter
rains commenced. Christmas day--his first Christmas in a land that did
not know its beautiful meaning--was one long dreary downpour. It rained
steadily all Christmas week. It poured on Newyear's day and for a week
after. It came down in torrents all January. February set in and still
it rained and rained, with only a short interval each afternoon. Day and
night, week in, week out, it poured, until Mackay forgot what sunlight
looked like, his house grew damp, his clothes moldy. A stream broke
out up in the hill behind and one morning he awoke to find a cascade
tumbling into his kitchen, and rushing across the floor out into the
river beyond. And still it poured and the wind blew and everything was
damp and cold and dreary.
He caught an occasional glimpse of snow, only a very far-off view, for
it lay away up on the top of a mountain, but it made his heart long for
just one breath of good dry Canadian air, just one whiff of the keen,
cutting frost.
But Kai Bok-su was not the sort to spend these dismal days repining.
Indeed he had no time, even had he been so inclined. His work filled
up every minute of every rainy day and hours of the drenched night. If
there was no sunshine outside there was plenty in his brave heart, and A
Hoa's whole nature radiated brightness.
And there were many reasons for being happy after all. On the second
Sabbath of February, 1873, just one year after his arrival in Tamsui,
the missionary announced, at the close of one of his Sabbath services,
that he would receive a number into the Christian church. There was
instantly a commotion among the heathen who were in the house, and yells
and jeers from those crowding about the door outside.
"We'll stop him," they shouted. "Let us beat the converts," was another
cry.
But Mackay went quietly on with the beautiful ceremony in spite of the
disturbance. Five young men, with A Hoa at their head, came and were
baptized into the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.
When the next Sabbath came these five with their missionary sat down for
the first time to partake of the Lord's Supper. It was a very impressive
ceremony. One young fellow broke down, declaring he was not worthy.
Mackay took him alone into his little room and they prayed together, and
the young man came out to the Lord's Supper comforted, knowing that all
might be worthy in Jesus Christ.
Spring came at last, bright and clear, and Mackay announced to A Hoa
that they must go up the river and visit their friends at Goko-khi. The
two did not go alone this time. Three other young men who wanted to be
missionaries were now spending their days with their teacher, learning
with A Hoa how to preach the gospel. So it was quite a little band
of disciples that walked along the river bank up to Go-ko-khi. Mackay
preached at all the villages along the route, and visited the homes of
Christians.
One day, as they passed a yamen or Chinese court-house where a mandarin
was trying some cases, they stepped in to see what was going on. At
one end of the room sat the mandarin who was judge. He was dressed in
magnificent silks and looked down very haughtily upon the lesser people
and the retinue of servants who were gathered about him. On either side
of the room stood a row of constables and near them the executioners.
The rest of the room was filled with friends of the people on trial and
by the rabble from the street. The missionaries mixed with the former
and stood watching proceedings. There were no lawyers, no jury. The
mandarin's decision was law.
The first case was one of theft. Whether the man had really committed
the crime or not was a question freely discussed among the onlookers
around Mackay. But there seemed no doubt as to his punishment being
swift and heavy. "He has not paid the mandarin," a friend explained to
the missionary. "He will be punished."
"The mandarin eats cash," remarked another with a shrug. It was a saying
to which Mackay had become accustomed. For it was one of the shameless
proverbs of poor, oppressed Formosa.
The case was soon finished. Nothing was definitely proven against the
man. But the mandarin pronounced the sentence of death. The victim
was hurried out, shrieking his innocence, and praying for mercy. Case
followed case, each one becoming more revolting than the last to the
eyes of the young man accustomed to British justice. Imprisonment and
torture were meted out to prisoners, and even witnesses were laid hold
of and beaten on the face by the executioners if their tale did not suit
the mandarin. Men who were plainly guilty but who had given their judge
a liberal bribe were let off, while innocent men were made to pay heavy
fines or were thrown into prison. The young missionary went out and
on his way sickened by the sights he had witnessed. And as he went,
he raised his eyes to heaven and prayed fervently that he might be a
faithful preacher of the gospel, and that one day Formosa would be a
Christian land and injustice and oppression be done away.
The next scene was a happier one. There was an earnest little band of
Christians in Go-ko-khi, and two of the young people were about to be
married. It was the first Christian marriage in the place and Kai Bok-su
was called upon to officiate. There was a great deal of opposition
raised among the heathen, but after seeing the ceremony, they all voted
a Christian wedding everything that was beautiful and good.