Up and down the length and breadth of north Formosa, seeming to be
in two or three places at once, went Kai Bok-su, during this time of
reviving after the war. He would be in Kelung to-day superintending
the new chapel building, in Tamsui at Oxford College the next day, in
Bangkah preaching a short while after, and no one could tell just
where the next day.
But every one did know that wherever he went, Christians grew stronger
and heathen gave up their idols. The Kap-tsu-lan plain, away on the
eastern coast, seemed to be a sort of pet among all his mission fields,
and he was always turning his steps thither. For the Pe-pohoan who lived
there, while they were simple and warm-hearted and easily moved by the
gospel story, were not such strong characters as the Chinese. So the
missionary felt he must visit them often to help steady their faith.
Not long after the close of the war, he set off on a trip to the
Kap-tsu-lan plain. Besides his students, he was accompanied by a young
German scientist Dr. Warburg had come from Germany to Formosa to collect
peculiar plants and flowers and to find any old weapons or relics of
interest belonging to the savage tribes. All these were for the use of
the university in Germany which had sent him out.
The young scientist was delighted with Dr. Mackay and found in him a
very interesting companion. They met in Kelung, and when Dr. Warburg
found that Dr. Mackay was going to visit the Kap-tsu-lan plain, he
joined his party. The stranger found many rare specimens of orchids on
that trip and several peculiar spear and arrow heads to be taken back as
curios to Germany. But he found something rarer and more wonderful and
something for which he had not come to search.
He saw in one place three hundred people gather about their missionary
and raise a ringing hymn of praise to the God of heaven, of whom they
had not so much as heard but a few short years before. He visited
sixteen little chapels and heard clever, brightfaced young Chinese
preachers stand up in them and tell the old, old story of Jesus and his
love. And he realized that these things were far more wonderful than the
rarest curios he could find in all Formosa.
When he bade good-by to Dr. Mackay, he said: "I never saw anything like
this before. If scientific skeptics had traveled with a missionary as
I have and witnessed what I have witnessed on this plain, they would
assume a different attitude toward the heralds of the cross."
Not many months later Dr. Mackay again went down the eastern coast. This
time he took three of his closest friends, all preacher students, Tan
be, Sun-a, and Koa Kau. With a coolie to carry provisions, their
Bibles, their forceps, and some malaria medicine, they started off fully
equipped.
By steam launch to Bang-kah, by a queer little railway train to
Tsui-tng-kha and by foot to Kelung was the first part of the journey.
The next part was a tramp over the mountains to Kap-tsu-lan.
The road now grew rough and dangerous. Overhead hung loose rocks, huge
enough to crush the whole party should they fall. Underneath were wet,
slippery stones which might easily make one go sliding down into the
chasm below.
As usual on this trip they had many hairbreadth escapes, for there were
savages too hiding up in the dense forest and waiting an opportunity to
spring out upon the travelers. Dr. Mackay was almost caught in a small
avalanche also. He leaped over a narrow stream-bed, and as he did so,
he dislodged a loose mass of rock above him. It came down with a fearful
crash, scattering the smaller pieces right upon his heels; but they
passed all dangers safely and toward evening reached the shore where
the great long Pacific billows rolled upon the sand. They were in the
Kap-tsu-lan plain.
Their journey through the plain was like a triumphal march. Wherever a
chapel had been erected, there were converts to be examined; wherever
there was no chapel, the people gathered about the missionary and
pleaded for one. They often recalled the first visit of Kai Bok-su when
"No room for barbarians" were the only words that met him.
But Dr. Mackay wished to go farther on this journey than he had ever
gone. Some distance south of Kap-tsu-lan lay another district called the
Ki-lai plain. The people here were also aborigines of the island who had
been conquered by the Chinese like the Pepo-hoan. But the inhabitants of
Ki-lai were called Lam-si-hoan, which means "Barbarians of the south."
Dr. Mackay had never been among them, but they had heard the gospel. A
missionary from Oxford College had journeyed away down there to tell the
people about Jesus and had been working among them for some years. He
was not a graduate, not even a student--but only the cook! For Oxford
College was such a place of inspiration under Kai Bok-su, that even the
servants in the kitchen wanted to go out and preach the gospel. So the
cook had gone away to the Ki-lai plain, and, ever since he had left, Dr.
Mackay had longed to go and see how his work was prospering.
So at one of the most southerly points of the Kap-tsu-lan plain he
secured a boat for the voyage south. The best he could get was a small
craft quite open, only twelve feet long. It was not a very fine vessel
with which to brave the Pacific Ocean, but where was the crazy craft
in which Kai Bok-su would not embark to go and tell the gospel to the
heathen? The boat was manned by six Pe-po-hoan rowers, all Christians,
and at five o'clock in the evening they pushed out into the surf of So
Bay. A crowd of converts came down to the shore to bid them farewell. As
the boat shoved off the friends on the beach started a hymn. The rowers
and the missionaries caught it up and the two groups joined, the
sound of each growing fainter and fainter to the other as the distance
widened.
All lands to God in joyful sounds Aloft your voices raise, Sing forth
the honor of his name, And glorious make his praise!
And the land and the sea, answering each other, joined in praise to him
who was the Maker of both.
And so the rowers pulled away in time to the swing of the Psalm, the
boat rounded a point, and the beloved figure of Kai Bok-su disappeared
from sight.
Away down the coast the oarsmen pulled, and the four missionaries
squeezed themselves into as small a space as possible to be out of the
way of the oars. All the evening they rowed steadily, and as they still
swept along night came down suddenly. They kept close to the shore,
where to their right arose great mountains straight up from the water's
edge. They were covered with forest, and here and there in the blackness
fires twinkled.
"Head-hunters!" said the helmsman, pointing toward them.
Away to the left stretched the Pacific Ocean, and above shone the stars
in the deep blue dome. It was a still, hot tropical night. From the land
came the heavy scent of flowers. The only sound that broke the stillness
was the regular thud, thud of the oars or the cry of some wild animal
floating out from the jungle. As they passed on through the warm
darkness, the sea took on that wonderful fiery glow that so often
burns on the oceans of the tropics. Every wave became a blaze of
phosphorescence. Every ripple from the oars ran away in many-colored
flames--red, green, blue, and orange. Kai Bok-su, sitting amazed at the
glory to which the Pe-po-hoan boatmen had become accustomed, was silent
with awe. He had seen the phosphorescent lights often before, but never
anything like this. He put his hand down into the molten sea and scooped
up handfuls of what seemed drops of liquid fire. And as his fingers
dipped into the water they shone like rods of red-hot iron. Over the
gleaming iridescent surface, sparks of fire darted like lightning, and
from the little boat's sides flashed out flames of gold and rose and
amber. It was grand. And no wonder they all joined--Chinese, Malayan,
and Canadian--in making the dark cliffs and the gleaming sea echo to the
strains of praise to the One who had created all this glory.
O come let us sing to the Lord,
To him our voices raise With joyful noise,
Let us the rock Of our salvation praise.
To him the spacious sea belongs,
For he the same did make;
The dry land also from his hand
Its form at first did take.
Dawn came up out of the Pacific with a new glory of light and color that
dispelled the wonders of the night. It showed the voyagers that they
were very near a low shore where it would be possible to land. But the
helmsman shook his head at the proposal. He pointed out huts along the
line of forest and figures on the shore. And then with a common
impulse, the rowers swung round and pulled straight out to sea; for with
Pe-po-hoan experience they saw at once that here was a savage village,
and not long would their heads remain on their shoulders should they
touch land.
The scorching sun soon poured its hot rays upon the tired rowers, but
they pulled steadily. They too, like Kai Bok-su, were anxious to take
this great good news of Jesus Christ to those who had not yet learned of
him. When safely out of reach of the headhunters, they once more turned
south, and, about noon, tired and hot, at last approached the first port
of the Ki-lai plain. Every one drew a sigh of relief, for the men had
been rowing steadily all night and half the day. As they drew near
Dr. Mackay looked eagerly at the queer village. It appeared to be half
Chinese and half Lam-si-hoan. It consisted of two rows of small thatched
houses with a street between nearly two hundred feet wide.
The rowers ran the boat up on the sloping pebbly beach and all stepped
out with much relief to stretch their stiffened limbs. They had scarcely
done so when a military officer came down the shore and approaching Dr.
Mackay made him welcome with the greatest warmth. There was a military
encampment here, and this was the officer as well as the headman of the
village. He invited Dr. Mackay and his friends to take dinner with him.
Dr. Mackay accepted with pleased surprise. This was far better than
he had expected. He was still more surprised to hear his name on every
hand.
"It is the great Kai Bok-su," could be heard in tones of deepest respect
from fishermen at their nets and old women by the door and children
playing with their kites in the wide street.
"How do they know me?" he asked, as he was greeted by a rice-seller,
sitting at the open front of his shop.
"Ah, we have heard of you and your work in the north, Pastor Mackay,"
said his host, smiling, "and our people want to hear of this new
Jehovah-religion too."
The cook-missionary had evidently spread wonderful reports of Kai
Bok-su and his gospel and so prepared the way. He was preaching just
then in a place called Ka-le-oan, farther inland. When the officer
learned that Dr. Mackay wanted to visit him he turned to his servant
with a most surprising order. It was to saddle his pony and bring him
for Kai Bok-su to ride to Ka-le-oan.
The pony came, sleek and plump and with a string of jingling bells
adorning him. A pony was a wonderful sight in Formosa, and Dr. Mackay
had not used any sort of animal in his work since that disastrous day
when he had tried in vain to ride the stubborn Lu-a. But now he gladly
mounted the sedate little steed and trotted away along the narrow
pathway between the rice-fields toward Ka-le-oan.
Darkness had almost descended when he rode into the village and stopped
before a small grass-covered bamboo dwelling where the cook-preacher
lived. For years the people here had looked for Kai Bok-su's coming, for
years they had talked of this great event, and for years their preacher
had been writing and saying as he received his reply from the eager
missionary in Tamsui, "He may come soon."
And now he was really here! The sound of his horse's bells had scarcely
stopped before the preacher's house, when the news began to spread
like fire through the village. The preacher, who had worked so hard
and waited so long, wept for joy, and before he could make Dr. Mackay
welcome in a proper manner the room was filled with men, all wildly
eager for a sight of the great Kai Bok-su, while outside a crowd
gathered about the door striving to get even a glimpse of him. The
ex-cook of Oxford College had preached so faithfully that many were
already converted to Christianity, many more knew a good deal of the
gospel, and crowds were ready to throw away their idols. They were
weary of their heathen rites and superstitions. They were longing for
something better, they scarcely knew what. "But the mandarin will not
let them become Christians," said the preacher anxiously. "It is he who
is keeping them from decision. He has said that they must continue in
idolatry, as a token of loyalty to China."
"Are you sure that is true?" cried Dr. Mackay.
The converts nodded. They had "heard" it said at least.
But Kai Bok-su was not the man to accept mere hearsay. He was always
wisely careful to avoid any collision with the authorities. But
remembering the kindness shown him back in Hoe-lien-kang, he could not
quite believe that the mandarin who had been so kind to him could be
hostile to the religion of Jesus Christ.
To think was to act, and early the next morning, he was riding back to
the seacoast, to inquire how much of this rumor was true.
His reception was very warm. It was all right, the officer declared.
Whatever had been said or done in the past must be forgotten. Kai Bok-su
might go where he pleased and preach his Jehovah-religion to whomsoever
he would.
It was a very light-hearted rider the pony carried as he galloped back
along the narrow paths, with the good news for the villagers. The word
went round as soon as he arrived. Kai Bok-su wanted to know how many
were for the true God. All who would worship him were at once to clear
their houses of idols and declare that they would serve Jehovah and him
only. At dark a great crowd gathered in an open space in the village.
Representatives from five villages were there, chiefs were shouting to
their people, and when Dr. Mackay and his students arrived, the place
was all noise and confusion. He was puzzled. It almost looked as if
there was to be a riot, though the voices did not sound angry.
He climbed up on a pile of rubbish and his face shone clear in the light
of the flaring torches. His voice rang out loud and commanding above the
tumult.
"What is this noise about?" he cried. "Is there a difference of opinion
among you as to whether you shall worship these poor toys of wood and
stone, or the true God who is your Father?"
He paused and as if from one man came back the answer in a mighty shout:
"No, we will worship the true God!"
The tumult had been one of enthusiasm and not of dispute!
Kai Bok-su's heart gave a great bound. For a moment he could not speak.
He who had so often stood up fearless and bold before a raging heathen
mob, now faltered before this sea of eager faces, upturned to him.
It seemed too good to be true that all this crowd, representing five
villages, was anxious to become followers of the God of heaven. His
voice grew steady at last, and standing up there in the flickering
torchlight he told those children of the plain what it meant to be a
follower of Jesus Christ. It was a late hour when the meeting broke up,
but even then Dr. Mackay could not go to bed. Never since the day that A
Hoa, his first convert, had accepted Jesus Christ as his Savior, had
he felt such joy, and all night he walked up and down in front of the
preacher's house, unable to sleep for the thankfulness to God that
surged in his heart.
Morning brought a wonderful day for the Ki-lai plain. It was like a day
when freedom from slavery was announced. Had there been bells in the
village they would certainly have been rung. But joy bells were ringing
in every heart. Nobody could work all day. The rice-fields and the shops
and the pottery works lay idle. There was but one business to do that
day, and that was to get rid of their idols.
Early in the morning the mayor of the place, or the headman as he was
called, came to the house to invite the missionary and his party to join
him. Behind him walked four big boys, carrying two large wicker baskets,
hanging from poles across their shoulders; and behind them came the
whole village, men, women, and children, their faces shining with a new
joy. The procession moved along from house to house. At every place it
stopped and out from the home were carried idols, ancestral tablets,
mock-money, flags, incense sticks, and all the stuff used in idol
worship. These were all emptied into the baskets carried by the boys.
When even the temple had been ransacked and the work of clearing out the
idols in the village was finished, the procession moved on to the next
hamlet. The villages were very near each other, so the journey was not
wearisome; and at last when every vestige of the old idolatrous life had
been taken from the homes of five villages, the happy crowd marched back
to the first village. There was a large courtyard near the temple and
here the procession halted. The boys dropped their well-filled baskets,
and their contents were piled in the center of the court. The people
gathered about the heap and with shouts of joy set fire to these signs
of their lifelong slavery. Soon the pile was blazing and crackling, and
all the people, even the chiefs of the villages, vied with each other in
burning up the idols they had so lately besought for blessings.
And then they turned toward the heathen temple and delivered it over to
Kai Bok-su for a chapel in which he and his students might preach the
gospel.
And so the temple was lighted up for a new kind of worship. It had been
used for worship many, many times before, but oh, how different it was
this time! Instead of coming in fear of demons, dread of their gods'
anger, and determination to cheat them if possible, these poor folk
crowded into the new-old temple with light, happy hearts, as children
coming to their Father. And was not God their Father, only they had not
known him before?
The heathen temple was dedicated to the worship of the true God by
singing the old but always new, one hundredth Psalm. The Lam-si-hoan
were not very good singers. They had not much idea of tune. They had
less idea of just when to start, and there was very little to be said
about the harmony of those hundreds of voices. But in spite of it all,
Kai Bok-su had to confess that never in the music of his homeland or in
the more finished harmonies of Europe, had he heard anything so grandly
uplifting as when those newly-freed people stood up in their idol temple
and with heart and soul and voice unitedly poured forth in thunderous
volume of praise the great command:
All people that on earth do dwell, Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice.
For a whole week with his pony and groom, which were still his to do
with as he pleased, the busy missionary rode up and down this plain,
visiting the villages, preaching, and teaching the people how to live
as Jesus Christ their Savior had lived; for it was necessary to impress
upon their childlike minds that it would be of no use to burn up the
idols in their homes and temple unless they also gave up the still more
harmful idols in their hearts.
But at last the day came when the pony had to be returned to its owner
and the missionary and his helpers must leave. It was a sad day but
a joyous one--the day that great visit came to an end. Crowds of
Christians, fain to keep him, followed him down to the shore, and many
kindly but reluctant hands shoved the little boat out into the surf. And
as the rowers sent it skimming out over the great Pacific rollers, there
rose from the beach the parting hymn, the one that had dedicated the
heathen temple to the worship of the true God:
All people that on earth do dwell,
Sing to the Lord with cheerful voice.
and from the rowers and the missionaries in the boat, came back the glad
echo:
Know that the Lord is God indeed Without our aid he did us make.
They were soon out of sight. The rowers pulled hard, but a stiff
northeaster straight from Japan was blowing against them, and they made
but little headway. Night came down, and they were again skirting those
dark cliffs, where, here and there, along the narrow strip of sand,
the night-fires of the savages flamed out against the dark tangle of
foliage. All night long the rowers struggled against the wind. They were
afraid to go out far for the waves were wild, they dared not land, for,
crueler than the sea, the head-hunters waited for them on the shore. And
so all that night, taking turns with the rowers, the missionary and his
students toiled against the wind and wave. The dawn came up gray and
stormy, and they were still tossing about among the white billows. No
one had touched food for twenty-four hours. They had rice in the boat,
but there was no place where they dared land to have it cooked. There
was nothing to do but to pull, pull at the oars, and a weary task it
seemed, for the boat appeared to make little headway, and the rowers
barely succeeded in keeping her from being dashed upon the rocks.
They were becoming almost too weak to keep any control over their boat,
when about three o'clock in the afternoon they managed to round a
point. There before them curved a beautiful bay. Behind it and on both
sides arose a perpendicular wall several hundred feet high. At its
foot stretched a narrow sandy beach. It was an ideal spot, secure from
savages both by land and sea. A shout of encouragement from Kai Bok-su
was the one thing needed. Tired arms and aching backs bent to the oars
for one last effort, and when the boat swept up on the sandy beach every
one uttered a heartfelt prayer of thankfulness to the Father who had
provided this little haven in a time of such distress.
The rest of the journey was made safely, and just forty days after their
departure the four missionaries returned, worn out, to Tamsui.