Away over on the east of the island ran a range of beautiful mountains.
And between these mountains and the sea stretched a low rice plain.
Here lived many Pe-po-hoan,--"Barbarians of the plain." Mackay had never
visited this place, for the Kap-tsu-lan plain, as it was called, was
very hard to reach on account of the mountains; but this only made the
dauntless missionary all the more anxious to visit it.
So one day he suggested to his students, as they studied in his house
on the bluff, that they make a journey to tell the people of Kap-tsu-lan
the story of Jesus. Of course, the young fellows were delighted. To go
off with Kai Bok-su was merely transferring their school from his house
to the big beautiful outdoors. For he always taught them by the way, and
besides they were all eager to go with him and help spread the good news
that had made such a difference in their lives. So when Kai Bok-su piled
his books upon a shelf and said, "Let us go to Kaptsu-lan," the young
fellows ran and made their preparations joyfully. A Hoa was in Tamsui
at the time, and Mackay suggested that he come too, for a trip without A
Hoa was robbed of half its enjoyment.
Mackay had just recovered from one of those violent attacks of malaria
from which he suffered so often now, and he was still looking pale and
weak. So Sun-a, a bright young student-lad, came to the study door with
the suggestion, "Let us take Lu-a for Kai Bok-su to ride."
There was a laugh from the other students and an indulgent smile from
Kai Bok-su himself. Lu-a was a small, rather stubborn-looking donkey
with meek eyes and a little rat tail. He was a present to the missionary
from the English commissioner of customs at Tamsui, when that gentleman
was leaving the island. Donkeys were commonly used on the mainland of
China, and though an animal was scarcely ever ridden in Formosa, horses
being almost unknown, the commissioner did not see why his Canadian
friend, who was an introducer of so many new things, should not
introduce donkey-riding. So he sent him Lu-a as a farewell present and
leaving this token of his good-will departed for home.
Up to this time Lu-a had served only as a pet and a joke among the
students, and high times they had with him in the grassy field behind
the missionary's house when lessons were over. In great glee they
brought him round to the door now, "all saddled and bridled" and ready
for the trip. The missionary mounted, and Lu-a trotted meekly along the
road that wound down the bluff toward Kelung. The students followed in
high spirits. The sight of their teacher astride the donkey was such a
novel one to them, and Lu-a was such a joke at any time, that they were
filled with merriment. All went well until they left the road and turned
into a path that led across the buffalo common. At the end of it they
came to a ravine about fifteen feet deep. Over this stretched a plank
bridge not more than three feet wide. Here Lu-a came to a sudden
stop. He had no mind to risk his small but precious body on that shaky
structure. His rider bade him "go on," but the command only made Lu-a
put back his ears, plant his fore feet well forward and stand stock
still. In fact he looked much more settled and immovable than the bridge
over which he was being urged. The students gathered round him and
petted and coaxed. They called him "Good Lu-a" and "Honorable Lu-a" and
every other flattering title calculated to move his donkeyship, but
Lu-a flattened his ears back so he could not hear and would not move.
So Mackay dismounted and tried the plan of pulling him forward by the
bridle while some of the boys pushed him from behind. Lu-a resented
this treatment, especially that from the rear, and up went his heels,
scattering students in every direction; and to discomfit the enemy in
front he opened his mouth and gave forth such loud resonant brays that
the ravine fairly rang with his music.
A balking donkey is rather amusing to boys of any country, but to these
Formosan lads who had had no experience with one the sound of Lu-a's
harsh voice and the sight of his flying heels brought convulsions of
merriment. "He's pounding rice! He's pounding rice!" shouted the wag of
the party, and his companions flung themselves upon the grass and rolled
about laughing themselves sick.
With his followers rendered helpless and his steed continuing stubborn,
Mackay saw the struggle was useless. He could not compete alone with
Lu-a's firmness, so he gave orders that the obstinate little obstructer
of their journey be trotted back to his pasture.
"And to think that any one of us might have carried the little rascal
over!" he cried as he watched the donkey meekly depart. His students
looked at the little beast with something like respect. Lu-a had beaten
the dauntless Kai Bok-su who had never before been beaten by anything.
He was indeed a marvelous donkey!
So the journey to the Kap-tsu-lan plain was made on foot. It was a very
wearisome one and often dangerous. The mountain paths were steep and
difficult and the travelers knew that often the head-hunters lurked
near. But the way was wonderfully beautiful nevertheless. Standing on a
mountain height one morning and looking away down over wooded hills and
valleys and the lake-like terraces of the rice-fields, Mackay repeated
to his students a line of the old hymn:
Every prospect pleases and only man is vile.
Around them the stately tree-fern lifted its lovely fronds and the
orchids dotted the green earth like a flock of gorgeous butterflies just
settled. Tropical birds of brilliant plumage flashed among the
trees. Beside them a great tree raised itself, fairly covered with
morning-glories, and over at their right a mountainside gleamed like
snow in the sunlight, clothed from top to bottom with white lilies.
But the way had its dangers as well as its beauties. They were passing
the mouth of a ravine when they were stopped by yells and screams of
terror coming from farther up the mountainside. In a few minutes a
Chinaman darted out of the woods toward them. His face was distorted
with terror and he could scarcely get breath to tell his horrible story.
He and his four companions had been chipping the camphor trees up in the
woods; suddenly the armed savages had leaped out upon them and he alone
of the five had escaped.
At last they left the dangerous mountain and came down into the
Kap-tsu-lan plain. On every side was rice-field after rice-field, with
the water pouring from one terrace to another. The plain was low and
damp and the paths and roads lay deep in mud. They had a long toilsome
walk between the ricefields until they came to the first village
of these barbarians of the plain. It was very much like a Chinese
village,--dirty, noisy, and swarming with wild-looking children and
wolfish dogs.
The visitors were received with the utmost disdain. The Chinese students
were of course well known, for these aborigines had long ago adopted
their customs and language. But the Chinese visitors were in company
with the foreigners, and all foreigners were outcaste in this eastern
plain. The men shouted the familiar "foreign devil" and walked
contemptuously away. The dirty women and children fled into their grass
huts and set the dogs upon the strangers. They tried by all sorts of
kindnesses to gain a hearing, but all to no effect. So they gave it
up, and plodded through the mud and water a mile farther on to the next
village. But village number two received them in exactly the same way.
Only rough words and the barks of cruel dogs met them. The next village
was no better, the fourth a little worse. And so on they went up and
down the Kap-tsu-lan plain, sleeping at night in some poor empty hut or
in the shadow of a rice strawstack, eating their meals of cold rice and
buffalo-meat by the wayside, and being driven from village to village,
and receiving never a word of welcome.
And all through those wearisome days the young men looked at their
leader in vain for any smallest sign of discouragement or inclination
to retreat. There was no slightest look of dismay on the face of Kai
Bok-su, for how was it possible for a man who did not know when he was
beaten to feel discouraged? So still undaunted in the face of defeat,
he led them here and there over the plain, hoping that some one would
surely relent and give them a hearing.
One night, footsore and worn out, they slept on the damp mud floor of a
miserable hut where the rain dripped in upon their faces. In the morning
prospects looked rather discouraging to the younger members of the
party. They were wet and cold and weary, and there seemed no use in
going again and again to a village only to be turned away. But
Kai Bok-su's mouth was as firm as ever, and his dark eyes flashed
resolutely, as once more he gave the order to march. It was a lovely
morning, the sun was rising gloriously out of the sea and the heavy
mists were melting from above the little rice-fields. Here and there
fairy lakes gleamed out from the rosy haze that rolled back toward
the mountains. They walked along the shore in the pink dawn-light and
marched up toward a fishing village. They had visited it before and had
been driven away, but Kai Bok-su was determined to try again. They were
surprised as they came nearer to see three men come out to meet them
with a friendly expression on their faces.
The foremost was an old man who had been nicknamed "Black-face," because
of his dark skin. The second was a middleaged man, and the third was a
young fellow about the age of the students. They saluted the travelers
pleasantly, and the old man addressed the missionary.
"You have been going through and through our plain and no one has
received you," he said politely. "Come to our village, and we will now
be ready to listen to you."
The door of Kap-tsu-lan had opened at last! The missionary's eyes
gleamed with joy and gratitude as he accepted the invitation. The
delegation led the visitors straight to the house of the headman. For
the Pepo-hoan governed their communities in the Chinese style and had a
headman for each village. The missionary party sat down in front of the
hut on some large flat stones and talked over the matter with the chief
and other important men. And while they talked "Black-face" slipped
away. He returned in a few moments with a breakfast of rice and fish for
the visitors.
The result of the conference was that the villagers decided to give
the barbarian a chance. All he wanted it seemed was to tell of this new
Jehovah-religion which he believed, and surely there could be no great
harm in listening to him talk.
In the evening the headman with the help of some friends set to work
to construct a meeting-house. A tent was erected, made from boat sails.
Several flat stones laid at one end and a plank placed upon them made
a pulpit. And that was the first church on the Kap-tsu-lan plain! There
was a "church bell" too, to call the people to worship. In the village
were some huge marine shells with the ends broken off. In the old days
these were used by the chiefs as trumpets by which they called their men
together whenever they were starting out on the war-path. But now the
trumpet-shell was used to call the people to follow the King. Just at
dark a man took one, and walking up and down the straggling village
street blew loudly--the first "church bell" in east Formosa.
The loud roar brought the villagers flocking down to the tent-church
by the shore. For the most part they brought their pews with them. They
came hurrying out of their huts carrying benches, and arranging them in
rows they seated themselves to listen.
Mackay and the students sang and the people listened eagerly. The
Pe-po-hoan by nature were more musical than the Chinese, and the singing
delighted them. Then the missionary arose and addressed them. He told
clearly and simply why he had come and preached to them of the true
God. Afterward the congregation was allowed to ask questions, and they
learned much of this God and of his love in his Son Jesus Christ.
The wonder of the great news shone in the eyes upturned to the preacher.
In the gloom of the half-lighted tent their dark faces took on a new
expression of half-wondering hope. Could it be possible that this was
true? Their poor, benighted minds had always been held in terror of
their gods and of the evil spirits that forever haunted their footsteps.
Could it be possible that God was a great Father who loved his children?
They asked so many eager questions, and the story of Jesus Christ had
to be told over and over so many times, that before this first church
service ended a gray gleam of dawn was spreading out over the Pacific.
It was only the next day that these newly-awakened people decided that
they must have a church building. And they went to work to get one in a
way that might have shamed a congregation of people in a Christian land.
This new wonderful hope that had been raised in their hearts by the
knowledge that God loved them set them to work with glad energy. Kai
Bok-su and his men still preached and prayed and sang and taught in the
crazy old wind-flapped tent by the seashore, and the people listened
eagerly, and then, when services were over, every one,--preacher,
assistants, and congregation,--set bravely to work to build a church.
Brave they certainly had to be, for at the very beginning they had to
risk their lives for their chapel. A party sailed down the coast and
entered savage territory for the poles to construct the building. They
were attacked and one or two were badly wounded, though they managed to
escape. But they were quite ready to go back and fight again had it been
necessary. Then they made the bricks for the walls. Rice chaff mixed
with clay were the materials, and the Kap-tsu-lan plain had an abundance
of both. The roof was made of grass, the floor of hard dried earth, and
a platform of the same at one end served as a pulpit.
When the little chapel was finished, every evening the big shell rang
out its summons through the village; and out from every house came the
people and swarmed into the chapel to hear Kai Bok-su explain more of
the wonders of God and his Son Jesus Christ.
Mackay's home during this period was a musty little room in a damp
mud-walled hut; and here every day he received donations of idols,
ancestral tablets, and all sorts of things belonging to idol-worship. He
was requested to burn them, and often in the mornings he dried his damp
clothes and moldy boots at a fire made from heathen idols.
For eight weeks the missionary party remained in this place, preaching,
teaching, and working among the people. It was a mystery to the students
how their teacher found time for the great amount of Bible study and
prayer which he managed to get. He surely worked as never man worked
before. Late at night, long after every one else was in bed, he would
be bending over his Bible, beside his peanut-oil lamp, and early in the
morning before the stars had disappeared he was up and at work again.
Four hours' sleep was all his restless, active mind could endure, and
with that he could do work that would have killed any ordinary man.
One evening some new faces looked up at him from his congregation in the
little brick church. When the last hymn was sung the missionary stepped
down from his pulpit and spoke to the strangers. They explained that
they were from the next village. They had heard rumors of this new
doctrine, and had been sent to find out more about it. They had been
charmed with the singing, for that evening over two hundred voices had
joined in a ringing praise to the new Jehovah-God. They wanted to hear
more, they said, and they wanted to know what it was all about. Would
Kai Bok-su and his students deign to visit their village too?
Would he? Why that was just what he was longing to do. He had been
driven out of that village by dogs only a few weeks before, but a little
thing like that did not matter to a man like Mackay. This village lay
but a short distance away, being connected with their own by a path
winding here and there between the rice-fields. Early the next evening
Mackay formed a procession. He placed himself at its head, with A Hoa at
his side. The students came next, and then the converts in a double row.
And thus they marched slowly along the pathway singing as they went. It
was a stirring sight. On either side the waving fields of rice, behind
them the gleam of the blue ocean, before them the great towering
mountains clothed in green. Above them shone the clear dazzling sky of
a tropical evening. And on wound the long procession of Christians in a
heathen land, and from them arose the glorious words:
O thou, my soul, bless God the Lord, And all that in me is Be stirred up
his holy name To magnify and bless.
And the heathen in the rice-fields stopped to gaze at the strange sight,
and the mountains gave back the echo of that Name which is above every
name.
And so, marching to their song, the procession came to the village.
Everybody in the place had come out to meet them at the first sound
of the singing. And now they stood staring, the men in a group by
themselves, the women and children in the background, the dogs snarling
on the outskirts of the crowd.
The congregation was there ready, and without waiting to find a place of
meeting, right out under the clear evening skies, the young missionary
told once more the great story of God and his love as shown through
Jesus Christ. The message took the village by storm. It was like water
to thirsty souls. The next day five hundred of them brought their idols
to the missionary to be burned.
And now Mackay went up and down the Kap-tsu-lan plain from village to
village as he had done before, but this time it was a triumphal march.
And everywhere he went throngs threw away their idols and declared
themselves followers of the true God.
He was overcome with joy. It was so glorious he wished he could stay
there the rest of his life and lead these willing people to a higher
life. But Tamsui was waiting; Sin-tiam, Bang-kah, Kelung, Go-ko-khi,
they must all be visited; and finally he tore himself away, leaving some
of his students to care for these people of Kap-tsu-lan.
But he came back many times, until at last nineteen chapels dotted the
plain, and in them nineteen native preachers told the story of Jesus and
his love. Sometimes, in later years, when Mackay was with them, tears
would roll down the people's faces as they recalled how badly they had
used him on his first visit.
It was while on his third visit here that he had a narrow escape
from the head-hunters. He was staying at a village called "South Wind
Harbor," which was near the border of savage territory. Mackay often
walked on the shore in the evening just before the meeting, always with
a book in his hand. One night he was strolling along in deep meditation
when he noticed some extremely large turtle tracks in the sand. He
followed them, for he liked to watch the big clumsy creatures. These
green turtles were from four to five feet in length. They would
come waddling up from the sea, scratch a hole in the sand with their
flippers, lay their eggs, cover them carefully, and with head erect and
neck out-thrust waddle back. Mackay was intensely interested in all
the animal life of the island and made a study of it whenever he had
a chance. He knew the savages killed and ate these turtles, but he
supposed he was as yet too near the village to be molested by them. So
he followed the tracks and was nearing the edge of the forest, when he
heard a shout behind him. As he turned, one of his village friends came
running out of his hut waving to him frantically to come back. Thinking
some one must be ill, Mackay hurried toward the man, to find that it was
he himself who was in danger. The man explained breathlessly that it
was the habit of the wily savages to make marks in the sand resembling
turtle tracks to lure people into the forest. If Kai Bok-su had entered
the woods, his head would certainly have been lost.
It was always hard to say farewell to Kaptsu-lan, the people were so
warm-hearted, so kind, and so anxious for him to stay. One morning just
before leaving after his third visit, Mackay had an experience that
brought him the greatest joy.
He had stayed all night at the little fishing village where the first
chapel had been built. As usual he was up with the dawn, and after his
breakfast of cold boiled rice and pork he walked down to the shore for
a farewell look at the village. As he passed along the little crooked
street he could see old women sitting on the mud floors of their huts,
by the open door, weaving. They were all poor, wrinkled, toothless old
folk with faces seamed by years of hard heathen experience. But in their
eyes shone a new light, the reflection of the glory that they had seen
when the missionary showed them Jesus their Savior. And as they threw
their thread their quavering voices crooned the sweet words:
There is a happy land Far, far away.
And their old weary faces were lighted up with a hope and happiness that
had never been there in youth.
Kai Bok-su smiled as he passed their doors and his eyes were misty with
tender tears.
Just before him, playing on the sand with "jacks" or tops, just as he
had played not so very long ago away back in Canada, were the village
boys. And as they played they too were singing, their little piping
voices, sweet as birds, thrilling the morning air. And the words they
sang were:
Jesus loves me, this I know, For the Bible tells me so.
They nodded and smiled to Kai Bok-su as he passed. He went down to the
shore where the wide Pacific flung long rollers away up the hard-packed
sand. The fishermen were going out to sea in the rosy morning light,
and as they stood up in their fishing-smacks, and swept their long oars
through the surf, they kept time to the motion with singing. And their
strong, brave voices rang out above the roar of the breakers:
I'm not ashamed to own my Lord, Or to defend his cause.
And standing there on the sunlit shore the young missionary raised his
face to the gleaming blue heavens with an emotion of unutterable joy and
thanksgiving. And in that moment he knew what was that glory for which
he had so vaguely longed in childish years. It was the glory of work
accomplished for his Master's sake, and he was realizing it to the full.