Her own future loomed uncertain, and the thought of the children began

to weigh upon her mind: "It is not likely I shall ever go home again. I

feel as if I did not want to. How could I leave the bairns in this

dreadful land? Who would mother them in this sink of iniquity?" And

soon afterwards she wrote: "I do not think I could bear the parting

with my children again. If I be spared a few years more I shall have a

bit of land and build a wee house of my own near one of the principal

stations, and just stay out my days there with my bairns and lie down

among them. They need a mother's care and a mother's love more than

ever as they grow up among heathen people, and I could do a little,

through them, for the dark homes and hearts around, and it would be a

house and home for them when I am gone, where the missionaries could be

near them."

Janie, the faithful, unselfish soul who had been with her from

babyhood, was at last married. "Her husband," she said, "is my best

scholar, and if his social standing is not the highest, he is a real

companion to her and to my bairns, who worship him." The ceremony was

performed by "Ma," and the entry, in Efik, in a tiny marriage register

runs as follows:--

_December 21, 1899.

Janie Annan took oath before Obon (chief), Okon Ekpo, and Erne Ete,

that she will marry Akibo Eyo alone, Akibo also took oath that he will

marry Jane alone. They went to the farm with Eme Ete.

M.M.S._

The break in the family life gave her much more to do, but Janie--or

Jean as she was now more often called--still clung to her, and spent

much time at the Mission House attending to the babies as before, her

husband not objecting to her handling the twins, and even allowing her

to take one home to her house during the day. But difficulty and

disappointment came, as they so often do in Africa, and once more Jean

became an inmate of the household, in which she was to remain to the

end. One day a baby arrived whose mother had died after giving it

birth, and she took it and made it her special child. This was Dan

MacArthur Slessor--called after a home friend of the Mission--a black

boy who was to become almost as well known in Scotland as Jean herself.

By and by with returning strength the house-mother was able to resume

her old strenuous ways from cock-crow till star-shine. The cares of her

household never grew fewer. "Housekeeping in the bush," she would

remark, "means so much more as well as so much less than in Scotland.

There are no 'at homes,' no drawing-room ornaments to dust, no starched

dresses, but on the other hand there are no butchers or bakers or

nurses or washerwomen, and so I have to keep my shoulder to the wheel

both indoors and out of doors." There were defects in the situation;

she did not need other people to tell her that; she was often

overwhelmed with the multitude of her duties, at her wits' end to

manage all the children. "I have only three girls at present," she

writes, "and I have nine babies, and what with the washing and the

school and the palavers and the visitors, you may be sure there are no

drones in this house." Sometimes she would stand in a state of

pretended distraction and repeat--

_"There was an old woman who lived in a shoe, She had so many children

she didn't know what to do."_

She was not a housewife in the real sense, although she knew domestic

economy with the best, and there were days when she arose in her might

and introduced order and tidiness, but matters soon fell back into the

normal conditions. She was always quite candid about her deficiencies.

"I have not an elaborate system or method of work; it is just

everything as it comes. I am afraid my mind is not a trained machine.

It only works as it chooses."

Yet no family of white children could have been more cared for or

loved. She endeavoured to make Sunday a specially pleasant day for

them, and tea then was always a happy function. All sat at a big table

in the hall--Jean, Mana, Annie, Mary, Alice, and Maggie, with bunches

of small boys and girls on the floor. It was then that boxes of

delicacies from home were opened and devoured. How grateful she was to

all her friends! "The gifts," she would write, "are veiled in a mist of

love, real Scottish love, reticent but deep and strong, full of pathos

and prayer; the dear love inspired in our strong rugged Scots character

by the Holy Ghost and moulded by our beloved Presbyterianism of the

olden time; love that does not forget with the passing years." Two

years after she returned she related cheerfully that she was still

wearing the dress that had been given to her on furlough as her best on

the occasions when Government officials called upon her.

She saw pathos in these gifts, but none of that deeper pathos which lay

in her own life. She saw nothing to grieve about in her own position,

but only in the empty houses along the Cross River. She was not anxious

about herself, but desperately anxious about the extension of Roman

Catholic influence in Calabar. "To think," she exclaimed, "that all our

blood and treasure, love and sacrifice and prayer, should have been

given to make a place for them."

From her house in the bush she had been eagerly watching the sweep of

that great movement which culminated in 1900 in the union of the United

Presbyterian and Free Churches of Scotland. She loved the blue banner

of the United Presbyterian Church, and one of her constant admonitions

to the younger generation was to carry on the grand old traditions. At

first she had been inclined to favour a kind of fraternal federation,

each denomination keeping its distinctive principles, but she came to

believe in the transfusion of the two streams of spiritual life.

"We must not forget," she wrote, "that the Free Church people were met

at the Disruption by an empty exchequer and a confusion and blank that

taxed all their energies. It took them such hard work in those days to

get churches and homes for themselves that they got a bias that way,

and the outlook to the 'other sheep' may not have been so wide as that

of our forefathers. These used the little prayer-houses and humble

meeting-places for prayer and preaching: they were men nursed in

persecution and contempt and poverty, and they reaped God's

compensations in a detachment from the world, and in the grit and

spirituality and faith and unity which stress and persecution breed.

And we have inherited it all, and it is our contribution to the Church

life of to-day."

Her hope was that the Union might create a new and enlarged interest in

the foreign field and fill up the ranks in Calabar; but she was to be

disappointed in this, and she often expressed the view that the Mission

to which she had given her heart and life had been swallowed up, and

had somehow lost its individuality....

Into the United Free Church the United Presbyterians brought thirty-

eight women missionaries and one hundred and eighty-five women agents,

and the Free Church brought sixty European women missionaries and ten

Eurasians, and nearly four hundred native women agents, making, on the

women's side of the work alone, a total missionary staff in round

numbers of one hundred European workers assisted by nearly six hundred

local agents, and all these were now put under a new body, the Women's

Foreign Mission Committee, composed of some of the most gifted and

consecrated minds of the Church.

XXXV. EXILED TO CREEK TOWN

A dramatic public event which vitally affected her own life and the

course of the mission enterprise brought her seclusion to an end. The

story belongs more to the next phase of her career, but may be briefly

noticed here. With the extension of British influence into the interior

of the continent the form of Government had undergone another

development. Two protectorates were formed, Northern and Southern

Nigeria, and Sir Ralph Moor was appointed High Commissioner of the

latter. The same policy of pacifying and "cleaning up" the country

continued; but there were still large stretches practically untouched

by the agents of the Government, including the territory lying between

the Cross River and the Niger, in the upper part of which slave-raiding

and trading went on as it had done for centuries. The Aros, a powerful

tribe who controlled the juju worship, were the people responsible for

this evil. They would not submit to the new conditions, continued to

make war on peaceable tribes, and indulged in human sacrifices, blocked

the trade routes, and resisted the authority of the Government. One

officer was only able to penetrate fifteen miles west of the Cross

River, not without perilous experiences, and then was obliged to beat a

rapid retreat to escape being killed and eaten. The Government was very

patient and conciliatory; but it became absolutely necessary at last to

despatch a small expedition, and a field force was organised at Calabar

for the purpose. Dr. Rattray of the Mission staff was attached to it as

medical officer. The Aros did not wait for the advance; they raided a

village only fifteen miles from Ikorofiong, and, as a precaution, all

the missionaries upriver were ordered down to Duke and Creek Towns.

Okoyong was unmoved by these matters, "Ma" Slessor's authority was

supreme, but while the Government believed that all would be well, they

thought it better that she should also come to Calabar until the

trouble was over. Very much against her will she complied. They sent up

a special convoy for her, and treated her with all consideration. They

even offered to build a house at Creek Town for her and her large

family; but she did not wish to become too closely identified with the

Government, and declined their kindly assistance. She found

accommodation in part of the hospital, where, however, she had no

privacy, and was not very comfortable.

It was the first time she had been in Calabar since her arrival three

years before, and she was not happy. She was never otherwise than ill,

and she longed to get away from the crowd and "the bright, the terribly

bright sky." The children also were unwell. But there were

compensations. The Okoyong people kept steady during the unrest, and

remained true to their Queen. They came down to see her, brought all

their disputes for her to settle, and loaded her with gifts of food,

which were very acceptable, as prices had risen. Her lads kept on the

services, and the people attended regularly. She heard good news of the

twins, which the mothers had taken in order to relieve her; they were

in four different homes in four different districts, and nothing had

been said by the people. One of her oldest friends, the wife of a big

chief, a wealthy leisured woman, bore twins. She instantly wrote to the

chief telling him to put her into a canoe and send her down to Creek

Town. "I am sorry for her," she said, "but we cannot make different

laws for the rich and for the poor, and yet one may press too far with

a chief, and incite rebellion. After all we are foreigners, and they

own the country, so I always try to make the law fit in, while we

adjust things between us."

A campaign of three months sufficed to break the power of the Aros, but

long before that she was wearying to be back in Okoyong. At last she

appealed to the Commissioner. He asked her to wait until a certain

movement of troops was completed. Smilingly she replied that she would

be off at the first opportunity--and she went.

Her enforced sojourn in Creek Town was followed by the best results.

New missionaries had come out in whom she became interested. The one to

whom she owed most was the Rev. A. W. Wilkie, B.D., who soon afterwards

married a daughter of Dr. George Robson, the Editor of the _Missionary

Record_. With these two she formed a friendship which was to prove one

of the joys of her life. Mr. Wilkie understood her from the first; his

keen insight enabled him to explore a character that was growing ever

more complex, and he possessed that quality of understanding sympathy

to which alone her sensitive nature responded.

She enjoyed meeting these young workers who had come to carry on the

traditions of the Mission; she liked them because of their eagerness

and energy and their desire to do things. All her knowledge was at

their disposal, and she would tell them of the golden days of the past

and describe the characteristics and superstitions of the people as

well as speak of the higher things of life. Some of them thought her

the most fascinating woman they had ever met. "Her talks," they

declared, "are better than medicine." Many a wise bit of counsel she

passed on to her sister missionaries. "She gave me at the very

beginning of life in Calabar," says one, "a piece of advice that I have

never forgotten, and which has comforted me over and over again. I was

saying that in a place like Duke Town it was so difficult to know

exactly what to do, and she said, '_Do?_ lassie, _do?_ You've not got

to do, you've just got to _be_, and the doing will follow.'" "Make a

bold stand for purity of speech and charity of judgment," she told

another, "and let none of the froth that rises to the top of the life

around you vex or disturb your peace." Many acknowledged that they had

their lives enriched, their faith strengthened, and their work helped

by contact with her.

XXXVI. PICTURES AND IMPRESSIONS

The younger missionaries began to frequent Akpap, and from the accounts

of their visits we obtain some unstudied and vivid pictures of "Ma" and

her household. This slight woman with the shrunk and colourless skin,

the remarkable deep-set eyes, and the Scots tongue, so poor in the

gifts of the world, so rich in the qualities of the spirit, made a deep

impression upon them, although it is a question whether they ever fully

understood all she was and did. They lived in the European atmosphere,

she in the native; they noticed only superficial aspects, she moved

deep beneath the surface amongst conditions of which they were only

dimly aware.

"We walk for five or six miles along the pleasant bush path," writes

one, "and as we near the big trees and the clearing round the Mission

House, children's voices cry, 'Ma is coming,' and a sweet, somewhat

strident voice inquires, 'What Ma? Jean put the kettle on, Jean put the

kettle on.' 'And we'll all have tea,' sings out my friend. 'How are

you, Ma?' for we have reached the verandah, and 'Ma,' eagerly

hospitable, is giving us a royal welcome." She was usually found

barefooted and bareheaded, with a twin-baby in her arms and a swarm of

children about her, or on the roof nailing down the sheet-iron which a

tornado had shifted, or holding a palaver from the verandah, or sitting

in Court, but always busy. "No one can have much time for rest here,"

was the verdict of one missionary after a short stay. "Her power,"

wrote another, "is amazing; she is really Queen of the whole of Okoyong

district. The High Commissioner and his staff leave the administration

of it in her hands. It is wonderful to see the grip she has of the most

intricate native and political questions of the country. The people

tell me she knows their language better than they do themselves, and

that they appeal to her on their own customs and laws. She has done a

magnificent work, and the people have a deeper reverence for her than

you can imagine. When they speak of her their tones change. One thing I

noticed, she never allowed a native to sit in her presence. She keeps

them all at a respectful distance, although when they are ill,

sometimes with the most loathsome diseases, she will nurse them; and

she never shakes hands with them. She told the High Commissioner to do

so with some--but for herself, never! When I asked her the reason she

looked at me and said simply, 'I live alone.'"

The reference to her command of the language bears out what all

competent observers have stated. Some missionaries retain their accent

even after long service and speak as foreigners, but she had all the

vocabulary, the idioms, the inflections, the guttural sounds, the

interjections, and sarcasms, as well as the quick characteristic

gestures that belong only to the natives. "She excelled even the

natives themselves in their own tongue," says Mr. Luke. "She could play

with it and make the people smile; she could cut with it and make them

wince; she could pour spates of indignation until they cried out,

'_Ekem!_ Enough, Ma!' and she could croon with it and make the twins

she saved happy, and she could sing with it softly to comfort and

cheer." One visitor who accompanied a missionary friend found her

haranguing a crowd who had arrived to palaver. She stopped now and

again and spoke to the visitors in broad Scots. "Well," said the

missionary afterwards, "what do you think of her?" "I would not like

her to catch me stealing her chickens!" was the reply.

One of the qualities which astonished her guests was her utter

fearlessness. There were no locks on her mission doors. She went

everywhere, condemning chiefs, fining them, divorcing them; and came

home to her bairns to be a child with them, and to romp and sing to

them queer little chants of her own composition. One story of these

days her visitors carried away. A murder had been committed, and the

slayer was pursued by the people, who intended to follow out their

custom and torture him. He was seized and chained. Straining to break

loose, his eyes almost bursting from their sockets, he cried, "Beware!

You may kill me, but my spirit will come back and spoil you. Ay, it

will not be you, the slaves, but you, the chiefs, that will suffer.

Beware! I will come if you do not take me to Ma's house."

He was taken to "Ma," who on hearing the evidence ordered him to be

conveyed to Duke Town. Then she loosed him from his chains and sat down

with him alone in the house for the whole afternoon. The doors and

windows were open, and all he had to do was to strike her down and fly.

But she showed no fear. At night he was again chained and placed in the

prayer-room or store-room underneath until the guard arrived. During

the night he managed to slip off his chains and was free to escape into

the bush. When she went into the room in the morning with food and

called him, there was no sound or reply. It was dark in the place, but

she entered and moved around to find the prisoner. At the back of the

door she came into contact with his swinging body. He had taken off his

loin-cloth and hanged himself.

Her visitors noticed, almost with wonders her devotion to her children

and the little morsels of humanity that came pouring in upon her. Miss

Welsh, LL.A., thus describes the household: "Jean, the ever-cheerful

and willing helper; Annie the drawer of water and hewer of wood, kind

willing worker; Mary the smart, handsome favourite; Alice the stolid

dependable little body, and Maggie the fusionless, Dannie the imp, and

Asoquö who looked with his big innocent eyes a wee angel, and who yet

was in constant trouble, chiefly for insisting on sharing the cat's

meals. Then there were the babies--a lovely wee twin-girl, whom their

mother was nursing, a poor wee boy almost skin and bone lying cradled

in a box. Behind the house in a rough shelter was another twin-mother

caring none too kindly for her surviving child." Another writes, "I

never saw anything more beautiful than her devotion to these black

children. She had a poor sick boy in her arms all the time, and nursed

him while walking up and down directing the girls. He died at 11.30 and

she slept with him in her arms all night. Next morning he was put in a

small milk packing-case, and the children dug a grave and buried it and

held a service."

And here we have the scene at evening prayers: "We began with an Efik

hymn of her own, which she repeated line by line, while the little ones

chanted it with a weird intonation. They then sang the whole to the

tune _French_. She tested their memory of the morning lesson, and gave

them a homely but powerful address, interrupting herself once to tell

us how hydrophobia had broken out a few days before, and how she had

held one poor lad of ten in her arms until he died. She prayed, and the

children bowed down their heads till they rested upon the ground. They

next chanted the 'Amen,' and half-chanted the Lord's Prayer, and

finished with what she called 'one of the new fanciful English hymns--

'If I come to Jesus.' Then very simply and sweetly she commended us all

to the Father's love and care."

Long talks, often prolonged into the night, would follow. "How Ma

talked," says Miss Welsh, "and what a privilege it was to listen, what

an experience, and what an education! How she made the past vivid as

she lived it over again--the days of her girlhood--her mischievous

pranks, her love of fun, her early days in Calabar, tales of the old

worthies, tales of herself, and her own life, of her early pioneering,

of loved ones at home, of kind letters whose messages of cheer she

would share, of comfort and help from God's word--from the passage of

the day's reading, of new lessons learned, of new light revealed. I can

still hear her, still listen with the old fascination, still enjoy her

wild indignations, still marvel at her amazing personality, her

extraordinary vitality and energy, still feel as I have ever felt her

God-given power to draw one nearer to the Lord she loved so well."

When her guests departed she would walk with them a long way, her feet

bare, her head uncovered. "No," said a missionary, "I would not like to

see other ladies do that, but I would not care to see her different. It

is easy to give a false impression of her. She is not unwomanly. She is

eccentric if you like, but she is gentle of heart, with a beautiful

simplicity of nature, I join in the reverence which the natives show

her."

XXXVII. A NIGHT IN THE BUSH

Miss Slessor began to feel that her days in Okoyong were drawing to a

close. Her part of the work there was done. The district was civilised,

and all that the station required was organisation in detail and steady

development. But she was not one to rest in any circumstances in which

she was placed. She abated nothing of her devotion in the interests of

the peoples and although her strength did not now allow her to take

long journeys on foot she never hesitated to answer the call upon her

sympathy and courage. She had more than one adventure in these days,

but she had passed through so many hard experiences that she made light

of them, regarding them as mere incidents in the day's work.

One afternoon, while she was in school, there appeared before her a

young man of the superior class of slaves, who said his wife had given

birth to twins in the bush more than twelve miles away. All the people

had deserted her, a tornado was brewing--would she come and help?

"Ma" thought of her brood of children, and one a sickly baby, but

turning them over to the slave twin-mother she had bought, and leaving

food with her in her hut, she committed the whole twelve to Providence

and set out with Jean.

The young man led them at a breathless pace. "If only you could _dion_

the rain-cloud," he cried back. "I am praying that God may keep it

back," was all Mary could jerk out. The way seemed endless, and the

shadows of night fell swiftly about them, but at last they arrived near

the spot and were joined by the mistress of the slave and an old naked

woman. They found the mother lying on the ground surrounded by charms.

"Ma" pushed these away with her foot. The night was pitch dark, there

were occasional raindrops, and the woman was delirious. She ordered the

husband and his slave-man to make a stretcher. They regarded the idea

with horror, and pleaded that they could never carry her, their belief

doubtless being that they would die if they touched the unclean burden.

All begged "Ma" to leave the woman to her fate, but she turned upon

them with a voice of scorn, and such was her power that the men hastily

set to and constructed a rough stretcher of branches and leaves, and

even helped to place the woman upon it.

Before leaving, a sad little ceremony had to take place. One of the

infants was dead, and Jean took her machete and dug a little cavity in

the ground, and upon some soft leaves the child was laid and covered

up. She then lifted the other twin, the men raised the stretcher, and

the party set off, a fire-stick, red at the point, and twirled to

maintain the glow, dimly showing them the way. The rain kept off, but

it was so dark that "Ma" had to keep hold of the hem of Jean's dress in

order not to lose her. The latter stumbled and fell, bringing down Mary

also. "Where are you?" each cried, and then a hand or a foot was held

out and gripped. Sometimes the men dropped to their knees, but the

jolting brought no cry from the unconscious form they were carrying.

By and by they drew up in the utter solitude, and had to confess they

were lost. The men left to grope for signs of the path and the two

women were alone. Jean grew depressed, not on her own account but on

"Ma's," for she knew that she was utterly exhausted, and could not hold

out much longer. "What if they desert us?" she said. "Well," replied

Mary, trying to appear as if fatigue and fear and wild beasts had no

existence, "we shall just stay here until the morning." Jean's response

was something like a grunt. One of the men returned. "Can't find a

road," he grumbled, and disappeared again.

What was that? A firefly? No, a light. The other man had discovered a

hut, and had procured a lighted palm tassel dipped in oil. Poor as it

was the light served to show the way until the path was reached.

After sore toil they gained the Mission yard. The men laid the

stretcher in an open shed and, overcome with their exertions, threw

themselves down anywhere and went asleep. But there was no rest yet for

Mary. Securing some old doors and sheets of iron she patched up a room

for the woman, In which she could pass the night.

The children were awakened and crawled out of Iye's hut into the yard

crying in sleepy misery. Jean and Annie carried them to the Mission

House and put them to bed, and brought back some hot food for the

patient, who was constantly moaning, "Cold, cold; give me a fire."

Not till she was fed and soothed did Mary give in. She could not summon

sufficient strength to go upstairs, but lay down on the floor where she

was, with her clothes on, and all the dirt of the journey upon her, and

slept till daybreak.

The baby died next day, and the mother hovered at the point of death.

Mary strove hard to save her, but the result was doubtful from the

first. None in the yard would give any help save Jean; the woman was a

social leper, and all sat at a safe distance, dumb or blaspheming.

Conscious at the end, the poor girl cried piteously to her husband not

to reproach her. "It is not my fault," she said, "I did not mean to

insult you."

"Ma" placed her hand on her hot brow calming her, and prayed that she

might find an entrance into a better world than the one which had

treated her so badly. When she passed away she thrust aside the leper

woman whom her people sent to assist her, and washed the body herself

and dressed her so that for once a twin-mother was honoured in her

death. She was placed in a coffin of corrugated iron, strengthened with

bamboo splints, and beside her were put the spoons and pot and dish and

other things which she had used.

Her husband and his slave bore her away into the bush, and there at a

desolate spot, where no one was likely to live or plant or build, they

left her and stole from the place in terror.

XXXVIII. WITH LOVING-KINDNESS CROWNED

On the fifteenth anniversary of that notable Sunday in 1888 when Mary

settled at Ekenge, the first communion service in Okoyong was held. It

crowned her service there, and put a seal upon the wonderful work she

had accomplished for civilisation and for Christ. Alone, she had done

in Okoyong what it had taken a whole Mission to do in Calabar. The old

order of heathenism had been broken up, the business of life was no

longer fighting and killing, women were free from outrage and the death

menace, slaves had begun to realise that they were human beings with

human rights, industry and trade were established, peace reigned. Above

all, people were openly living the Christian life, and many lads were

actively engaged in Church work.

No congregation had been formally organised, but the readiness of the

young people to join the Church was brought to the notice of the Rev.

W. T. Weir, who was stationed at Creek Town, with the result that he

was appointed to go up and conduct the necessary services.

On the Saturday night in August corresponding to the one when she

arrived, a preparatory service was held in the hall beneath the Mission

House, and in the presence of the people seven young Christians were

received into the Church by baptism. More were coming forward, but the

fears of their friends succeeded in preventing them. "Wait and see,"

they urged, "until we know what the thing is." Some of the parents

anxiously asked "Ma" whether the ceremony was in any way connected with

_mbiam_.

On Sunday came a great throng, which filled the hall and overflowed

into the grounds, many sitting on native stools and chairs, and even on

gin-boxes. Before the communion service she presented eleven of the

children, including six she had rescued, for baptism.

It was a quiet and beautiful day, with the hush that comes with God's

rest-day all the world over. As the company gathered to the first

Memorial Table in Okoyong, she thought of all the years that lay

behind, and was greatly moved. In the stillness the old Scottish Psalm

tunes rose thrilling with the gratitude and praise of a new-born

people. After the bread and wine had been partaken of, thanks were

returned by the singing of the 103rd Psalm to the tune _Stroudwater_.

When the third and fourth verses were being sung--

_Kprukpru muquañkpõ ke ima | All thine iniquities who doth

Enye adahado; | Most graciously forgive:

Anam udöñõ okure, | Who thy diseases all and pains

Ye ndutukhö fo. | Doth heal, and thee relieve.

Enye onïm fi ke uwem, | Who doth redeem thy life, that thou

Osio ka mkpa; | To death may'st not go down;

Onyuñ odori fi eti | Who thee with loving-kindness doth

Mfön y'aqua ima_. | And tender mercies crown--

She seemed to be lost In a trance of thought, her face had a far-away

look, and tears stood in her eyes. She was thinking of the greatness of

God's love that could win even the oppressed people of dark Okoyong.

She could not let the assembly break up without saying a few words. Now

that they had the beginnings of a congregation they must, she said,

build a church large enough for all who cared to come. And she pled

with those who had been received to remain true to the faith. "Okoyong

now looks to you more than to me for proof of the power of the Gospel."

In the quiet of the evening in the Mission House, she seemed to dwell

in the past. Long she spoke of what the conditions had been fifteen

years before, and of the changes that had come since. But her joy was

in those who had been brought to confess Christ, and she was glad to

think that, after all, the work had not been a failure. And all the

glory she gave to her Father who had so marvellously helped her.

For a moment also her fancy turned to the future. She would be no

longer there, but she knew the work would go on from strength to

strength, and her eyes shone as she saw in vision the gradual

ingathering of the people, and her beloved Okoyong at last fair and

redeemed.

FOURTH PHASE

1902-1910. Age 54-62.

THE ROMANCE OF THE ENYONG CREEK#

_"I feel drawn on and on by the magnetism of this land of dense

darkness and mysterious weird forest."_

I. THE REIGN OF THE LONG JUJU

Again had come the fulness of the time, and again Mary Slessor, at an

age when most women begin to think of taking their ease, went forward

to a new and great work for Christ and civilisation. Kind eyes and

loving hands beckoned to her from Scotland to come and rest, but she

gazed into the interior, towards vast regions as yet unentered, and saw

there the gleam of the Divine light leading her on, and she turned with

a happy sigh to follow it.

In this case there was no sharp division between the old and new

spheres of service. For ten years she had been brooding over the

conditions in the territory on the west side of the Cross River, so

near at hand, so constantly skirted by missionaries, traders, and

officials as they sailed up-river, and yet so unknown, and so full of

the worst abominations of heathenism.

Just above Calabar the Cross River bends back upon itself, and here at

the point of the elbow the Enyong Creek runs inland into the heart of

the territory towards the Niger. At its mouth on high ground stands the

township of Itu, of sinister reputation in the history of the West

Coast. For there on the broad beach at the foot of the cliff was held &

market which for centuries supplied Calabar and the New World with

slaves. Down through the forest paths, down the quiet waters of the

Creek, countless victims of man's cupidity had poured, had been huddled

together there, had been inspected, appraised, and sold, and then had

been scattered to compounds throughout the country or shipped across

the sea. And there still a market, was held, and along the upper

borders of the Creek human sacrifice and cannibalism were practised.

Only recently a chief had died, and sixty slave people had been killed

and eaten. One day twenty-five were set in a row with their hands tied

behind them, and a man came and with a knife chopped off their heads.

It is a strange irony that this old slave creek, the scene of so much

misery and anguish, is one of the prettiest waterways in West Africa.

It is narrow and still and winding, and great tropical trees covered

with the delicate tracery of creepers line the banks, their branches

sometimes interlacing above, while the undergrowth is rich in foliage

and blossom. Lovely orchids and ferns grow in the hollows of the boughs

and old trunks that have fallen; but the glory of the Creek is its

water-lilies, which cover the surface everywhere, so that a boat has

often to cut its way through their mass. On either hand, side-creeks

can be seen twisting among the trees and running deeper into the heart

of the forest. The silence of the primeval solitude is unbroken save

when a canoe passes, and then a startled alligator will slip into the

water, monkeys will scurry chattering from branch to branch, parrots

will fly screaming away, blue kingfishers and wild ducks will disappear

from their perch, and yellow palm birds will gleam for a moment as they

flit through the sunlight. The Creek is beautiful at all times, but in

the early morning when the air is cool and the light is misty and the

vistas are veiled in dimness, the scene is one of fairy-like

enchantment.

Above the Creek all the country between the Cross River and the Niger

up to near Lokoja in Northern Nigeria, was occupied by the Ibo tribe,

numbering about four millions, of a fairly high racial type, who were

dominated by the Aros clan dwelling in some twenty or thirty towns

situated close together in the district of Arochuku ("God of the

Aros"). A remarkable and mysterious people, the Aros were light-

coloured, intelligent, subtle, and cunning. More intellectual and

commercial than warlike, they developed two lines of activity--trade

and religion--and made each serve the other. Their chief commodity was

slaves. Each town controlled certain slave routes, and each had a

definite sphere of influence which extended over a wide tract of

territory. When slaves were scarce they engaged mercenaries to raid

villages and capture them. But they had usually a supply from the Long

Juju situated in a secret, well-guarded gorge. The fame of this fetish

was like that of the Delphic oracle of old; it spread over the country,

and people came far distances to make sacrifices at its shrine, and

consult the priests on all possible subjects. These priests were men

chosen by the various towns, who were raised to a semi-sacred status in

the eyes of the people. Enormous fees and fines were imposed, but the

majority who entered the spot never left it alive; they were either

sacrificed and eaten, or sold into slavery. The shrine was built in the

middle of a stream, which was alive with ugly fish with glaring eyes

that were regarded as sacred. When the friends of the man who had

entered saw the water running red, they believed that the Juju had

devoured him. In reality some red material had been cast in, and the

man would be sent as a slave to a remote part of the country.

The priests despatched their emissaries far and wide; they settled in

townships, swore blood brotherhood with the chiefs, and took part in

local affairs. They planted farms, and traded and acquired enormous

power. When disputes arose they got the matter sent for adjustment to

the town in Aro within whose sphere of influence they lived, or to the

Long Juju. In this way they acted as agents of the slave system. Other

men took round the slaves on definite routes. Their usual plan was to

leave one on approval, obtaining on their own part so much on each, or

a slave of lower value. When the trader returned the bargain would be

completed. The usual price of a new slave was 200 or 300 rods and a bad

slave. So widespread was the net east by the Aros, and so powerful

their influence, that if a chief living a full week's journey to the

north were asked, "What road is that?" he would say, "The road to Aro."

All roads in the country led to Aro.

A few years before this a party of eight hundred natives had proceeded

from the territories about the Niger to consult the Long Juju on

various matters. They were led by a circuitous route to Arochuku, and

housed in a village. Batches of from ten to twenty were regularly taken

away, ostensibly to the Juju, but were either sacrificed or sold into

servitude, only a miserable remnant of 130 succeeding in reaching the

hands of Government officials.

Of a totally different type were the people living to the south of the

Creek, called the Ibibios. They were one of the poorest races in

Africa, both morally and physically, a result largely due to centuries

of fear and oppression. Ibibio was the chief raiding-ground of the

head-hunters, and the people lived in small isolated huts and villages

deep in the forest, in order to lessen the risk of capture. In

demeanour they were cowed and sullen, gliding past one furtively and

swiftly, as if afraid; in language and life they were untruthful and

filthy. The women, who wore no clothing save a small piece of native

cloth made of palm fibre, were mere beasts of burden. All the young

people went naked. Most unpromising material they seemed. Yet they

never ceased to draw out the sympathy and hope of the White Mother of

Okoyong; there was no people, she believed, who could not be recreated.

She knew a great deal about the Aros and their slave system, more,

probably, than any other white person in the country. Indeed few had

any knowledge of them. "What is sad about the Aro Expedition," wrote

Mr. Luke, one of the Cross River pioneers, "is that nearly all the town

names in connection with it are unknown to those of us who thought we

had a passable knowledge of Old Calabar. I never heard of the Aros, of

Bende, or of Arochuku. It is somewhat humiliating that after over fifty

years' work as a mission, the district on the right bank should be so

little known to us." Mary had first-hand acquaintance with the people.

Refugees came to her from both Ibo and Ibibio with stories of cruelty

and wrong and oppression; chiefs from both regions sought her out for

advice and guidance; slave-dealers from Arochuku and Bende, with their

human wares, called at Ekenge and Akpap, and with many of these she was

friendly, and learned from them the secrets of their trade. She told

them frankly that she was coming some day to their country, and they

gave her a cordial invitation, but hinted that it might not be quite

safe. It was not the danger that prevented her. She would have gone

before, but the difficulty was providing for Okoyong when she was

absent. She would not leave her people unless they were cared for by

competent hands. She asked for two ladies to be sent in order that she

might be free to carry out her idea of visiting the Aro country, but

none could be spared, and so she had, perforce, to wait. It was not

easy, but she loyally submitted. "The test of a real good missionary,"

she wrote, "is this waiting, silent, seemingly useless time. So many

who can distinguish themselves at home, missing the excitement and the

results, get discontented, morose, cynical, and depreciate everything.

Everything, however seemingly secular and small, is God's work for the

moment, and worthy of our very best endeavour. To such, a mission

house, even in its humdrum days, is a magnificent opportunity of

service. In a home like mine a woman can find infinite happiness and

satisfaction. It is an exhilaration of constant joy--I cannot fancy

anything to surpass it on earth."

Then came the military expedition to break up the slave system and the

false gods of Aro. The troops were moved into Arochuku by way of the

Creek, and the forces of civilisation encountered the warriors of

barbarism in the swamps and bush that edge the waterway. When the

troops entered the towns they found juju-houses everywhere, and in

almost every home were rude images smeared with the blood of sacrifice.

The dreaded Long Juju was discovered in a gloomy defile about a mile

from Arochuku. The path to it wound a tortuous way through dense bush,

with others constantly leading off on both sides, evidently intended to

puzzle the uninitiated. A watch-tower was passed where sentinels had

been posted. At the bottom of the valley, between high rocky banks

clothed with ferns and creepers, ran a stream which widened out into a

pool covered with water-lilies. In the dim light was seen a small

island, and upon it a rude shelter surrounded by a fence of gun-

barrels. Lying about were gin-bottles, cooking-pots, and human skulls,

the witness of past orgies. At the entrance was a white goat starving

to death.

Most of the chiefs had never seen-a white man, and when Sir Ralph Moor

went up to hold a palaver, their interest was intense. They sat on the

ground in a semicircle in the shade of a giant cotton tree, suspicious

and hostile, listening to the terms of the Government, which included

disarmament, the suppression of the juju-worship, and the prohibition

of the buying, pawning, and selling of slaves. After much palaver these

were agreed to. Over two thousand five hundred war-guns were

surrendered, but sacrifices continued--and still to some extent go on

in secret in the depths of the forest. Much work also had still to be

done before Government rule was generally accepted. Throughout the

whole time occupied by the expedition, but more particularly in the

later stages, the important chiefs kept continually in touch with "Ma"

Slessor, and one official states that it was to her influence more than

all the force and power of the Government emissaries that the final

settlement of the country was due....

It is interesting to speculate what might have been the course of

events had she been able to carry out her plan before the punitive

expedition was called for. Mr. Wilkie goes so far as to say that "had

she been settled in the Aro country it is doubtful whether an armed

expedition would have been necessary, and it is at least possible that

the suppression of the slave-trade would have been achieved by the

peaceable means of the Gospel." Primitive peoples often bend more

quickly before Christ than break before might of arms.

II. PLANTING A BASE

A large tract of new territory was now open to outside influences. Who

was to be the first to settle in it--official, trader, or missionary?

Mary studied the situation again in the light of the new conditions,

obtaining information first-hand from officials and natives. There were

two stations on the west of the Cross River--Ikorofiong, which,

however, was really an Efik trading town, and higher up, Unwana, which

was a back-water and unfit for a base for inland work. Tentative

efforts had been made from time to time to secure a footing elsewhere,

but had come to nothing, and the policy of the Mission had been to

continue up-river as being the line of least resistance. Her conviction

was that extension, for the present at least, should take place not up

the river, where the stations were cut off from the base during the dry

season, but laterally across the country between the Cross River and

the Niger. There were, she saw, three strategetic factors which

dominated the situation--the Enyong Creek giving admission to the new

territory, Itu at its mouth, and Arochuku, the religious and political

centre of the Ibos. The central position of Itu impressed her; it

commanded the three contiguous regions and peoples--the Ibo, Ibibio,

and Efik, and her plan was to seize and hold it as a base, then one of

the towns of Arochuku as the threshold of Iboland, and, if possible,

Bende. Her views did not commend themselves to all her colleagues in

Calabar, but how wise, how far-seeing, how statesmanlike was her policy

the later history of the Mission proves.

She felt she could do nothing until help was obtained for Akpap.

Fortunately there was one lady missionary in Calabar who had the

courage to prefer Okoyong to quieter stations-Miss Wright of the Girls'

Institute, who asked the local Committee to send her there as assistant

to Miss Slessor; and although the Committee approved, the matter was

referred to the Women's Committee at home. As there seemed no prospect

of anything being done, she began to move quietly along her own lines.

Her school lads were now old enough and educated enough to be used as

advance agents, and her hope lay in these. In January 1903 she left

Akpap with two boys, Esien and Effiom, and one of her girls, Mana, and

canoed to Itu, and planted them there to teach school and hold

services. Esien took the chief part in the latter, whilst Effiom led

the singing. Mana's work was the teaching of the girls. A few weeks

later she found that the results had exceeded all her dreams. The chief

said he was too old to change his ways, but the younger ones could

learn the new ideas--anyway God had made him, and so was bound to look

after him whatever sins he committed. But the children were eager to

learn, and made apt scholars, and the people crowded to the services

until there was no more room for them. She went up again and selected a

site on the top of the hill with a magnificent view and built a school,

speeding the work with her own hands, and set the willing people to

construct a church, with two rooms for herself at the end. When one of

her fellow-missionaries, Dr. Rattray, heard of this he wrote: "Bravo!

Uganda was evangelised by this means, and the teachers there could only

read the gospels and could not write or count; the Mission understood

its business to be to spread the Gospel, and all who could read taught

others and spread the news. Perhaps we educate the people too much, and

make them think that education is religion."

When in February she heard that the Roman Catholics were intending to

settle at Bende her heart was heavy. "The thought that all that is

holiest in the Church, should have been shed to create an opening for

that corrupt body makes me ill. And not even a station opened or the

hope of one! Oh, if I were able to go or send even a few of my bairns

just to take hold. The country is far from being at rest, but if the

Roman Catholics can go so can I.... There is a great future for

Nigeria; if only I were young again and had money!"

She wrote to Dr. Adam, a Government friend in Bende, a soldier of the

Church as well as a servant of the King, and he supplied her with all

the information she needed. Bende, he said, was not the place it was

supposed to be; the population numbered from two to four thousand; it

was not likely to become a trading centre; whilst the overland

transport was a disadvantage. The journey was by launch to Itu, by

steel canoe up the Enyong Creek, thence by foot or hammock to Arochuku

and Bende. He stated that Bishop Johnston of the Church Missionary

Society was already in Bende prospecting.

When she received his letter she said to herself, "Shall I go?" She did

not wish to compromise the mission in any way, and proposed to go about

the matter quietly, at her own expense. She would travel if necessary

in a hammock, as she was not so sure of herself as of old, and would

find rest at wayside huts, and she would take Iye to act as interpreter

where the women did not know Efik. "I would do what I like, and would

come back to my work rested and refreshed. But--I want God to send me."

What was influencing her also was the conviction that the end had come

for her at Akpap. Again she had the consciousness that it was time for

the station to be taken over by an ordained missionary, who would build

up a congregation. "I shall not say that I shall leave my home without

a pang, but I know that I can do work which new folk cannot do, and my

days of service are closing in, and I cannot build up a church in the

way a minister can." She believed that in the special conditions of

West Africa women were better than men for beginning work in the

interior. And she still retained her faith in the home-trained

domesticated type--girls who had brothers and sisters and had learned

to give and take and find duty in doing common things, rather than

those turned out by the training schools, who were, she thought, apt to

be too artificial and full of theories. Her ideal of a man missionary

was Dr. Rattray, who was a good carpenter and shoemaker and general

handy-man,--"far better accomplishments than a college education for

the African field." She did not, of course, depreciate culture, so long

as practical qualities of heart and hand went with it.

The proposal regarding Miss Wright going to Akpap having been agreed

to, she began to look forward to her advent as an event that would

determine the future. Seldom has one been so eagerly watched for; for

months it was nothing but "When Miss Wright comes," "Wait till Miss

Wright comes," so on. For days before she appeared the household were

in excited mood, every morning fresh flowers were placed in her

bedroom, the boys and girls kept themselves dressed and ready to

receive her. When she did arrive it made all the difference that was

hoped. She was a capable, unselfish, plucky girl; she knew the

language, and was experienced in the ways of the people. Very quietly

she slipped into the method of the house, taking the school and

dispensary off "Ma's" hands, and looking after the babies with the same

pitying sympathy. The girls became quite at home with her, in the long

nights she would sing to them, recalling the times in the bush when Mr.

Ovens used to entertain them. "She is a right sisterly helpmate," wrote

Mary, "and a real help and comfort in every way. Things go as smoothly

as on a summer's day, and I don't know how I got on alone. It seems too

good to be true."

III. On To Arochuku

On a morning of June 1908 she left Akpap for Itu, tramping the forest

path to Ikunetu in order to pick up the Government launch on its weekly

journey to the garrisons up-river. The Government, as usual, gave her

every facility for carrying on her new work, granted her free passages,

took charge of her packages and letters, placed their Rest Houses at

her disposal, and told her to ask for whatever she wanted. She did not

care to trouble them unduly, but was very grateful for their

consideration. On arriving at Ikunetu she went into the teacher's house

to rest, charging the boys to call her as soon as they sighted the

launch. They did not notice it until it was too late for her to signal,

and it passed onwards and out of sight. But she was not put out; her

faith was always strong in the guiding hand of God; and she turned and

tramped back the same long road. When she reached the Mission House

tired and weary, she assured Miss Wright that all was well--God had not

meant her to travel that day, and she must have been kept back for some

purpose.

Next week she set out again, and when she joined the launch at Ikunetu,

Colonel Montanaro, the Commander of the Forces, was on board on his way

up to Arochuku. In the course of their conversation he gave her a

pressing invitation to go there, and to accept his escort. She was

almost startled by what seemed so direct a leading. But she was not

prepared for a longer journey; she had no change of clothing or supply

of food. She thought and prayed over the matter all the way. "Here is

the challenge to enter that region of unbroken gloom and despair," she

mused. "If it is not entered now, the Roman Catholics will come in, and

the key position to the whole territory will be taken out of our hands,

and only the coast tribes be left to the Mission. If I go now we shall

be the first in the field, and it will not be discourteous to the Roman

Catholics--as it would be if we came in afterwards." Before the end of

the journey she consented to go.

When she arrived at Arochuku she found herself in the old slave centre

of the Aros, a densely populated district, some 80,000 people living

within a radius of a few square miles. It was a strange experience to

walk over these roads that had been trodden for centuries by countless

feet on their way to the pens of the coast and the horrors of the

"middle passage," and latterly to the Efik slave-market, and to gaze on

the spot where the secret iniquities of the Long Juju had taken place;

stranger still to receive a welcome from the men who had been

responsible for these evils. The chiefs and traders, many of whom she

knew, were delighted with her courage and touched by her self-

sacrifice, and promised to do all they could to assist her work. Making

arrangements to come up later and start a school, she left, profoundly

thankful for the privilege she had been granted, and praying that the

Church at home would have a vision of the grand opportunity opening up

before it.

The officials of the Church, of course, knew of the opportunity, but

the members at large were not interested. Dr. Robson, as Convener of

the Calabar Sub-Committee, pointed out how the situation was

practically a crisis--no ground had been broken west of the Cross

River, no teachers had been sent to the east. For a quarter of a

century the supply of men had not sufficed for the existing needs of

the Mission, and extension had been impossible. The givings of the

Church for foreign missions had been far below the urgent requirements.

Either, he said, the staff and income must be largely increased, or

they would have to step aside and invite others to divide the field

with them. No adequate response was made to this and similar appeals,

and the lonely pioneer was forced onwards upon her solitary path.

A short time afterwards she went back to Arochuku, taking two lads, and

a school was opened in the palaver shed of Amasu, one of the towns

nearest the Creek, A hundred children crowded into the building along

with women and men, and not a few of the old slavers, and the scholars

were soon well on in the first book. In one village which she visited

she found a young trader who had brought news of the Christ religion

from the Niger, and was anxious to introduce a church and teacher. When

she left the district again, the people came to the landing-beach and

cried after her, "Don't be long in coming back, Ma! If you don't care

for us, who will care for us?"

As her canoe was paddled down the creek, she lay back enjoying the

beauty of the scene. The water was as smooth as a mirror, and like a

mirror reflected the delicate tracery of the overhanging foliage;

bright birds sailed hither and thither, gorgeous butterflies flitted

about, and brilliant blossoms coloured the banks. She had passed in

succession two snakes attempting to cross the stream, and was watching

the efforts of a third when a small canoe shot out from behind a clump

of bushes and bumped into her craft. She apologised to the man in it,

but standing cap in hand he said, "I meant it, Ma; I have been waiting

for you; my master at Akani Obio sent me to waylay you and bring you to

his house." Taking a letter from his cap he handed it to her.

The canoe was turned and entered a still creek, a picture of delicate

loveliness, with multitudes of lilies and other aquatic plants, which

made her feel as if she were moving through an exquisite dream. A

shingly beach, evidently a busy trading-place, was reached, and there

stood a young man and young woman, handsome and well-dressed, who

assisted her to land. They led her into a good house and into a pretty

room with concrete floor, a European bedstead, clean and dainty, with

mosquito curtains and all the appointments that indicated people of

taste. The man was Onoyom Iya Nya, a born statesman, the only one in

the district who had not been disarmed by the Government, and the one

who had been chosen President of the Native Court, and was shaping well

as a wise and enlightened ruler.

It was a moving story that Mary heard from his lips, while his wife

stood by and listened. It went back to 1875 when he was a boy. One day

a white man appeared in the Creek, and all the people decamped and hid.

He, alone, stayed on the beach, and in response to a request from the

white man, offered to lead him to the chief's house. During the palaver

that ensued he lingered by, an absorbed listener. When the white man

left he was tried by the heads of the town and severely punished for

having acted as guide. The stranger was the Rev. Dr. Robb, one of the

ablest missionaries in the Mission, then stationed at Ikorofiong.

The boy never forgot the incident. But he grew up a heathen, and went

to the cannibal feasts at Arochuku. When his father died, ten little

girls were slaughtered, and five of the bodies were placed beneath the

corpse, and five above, that they might occupy the position of wives in

the spirit world. He married, but misfortune seemed to dog him. His

house was burned down, and then his child died. Seeking for the man who

had wrought these things by witchcraft, in order to murder him, he met

a native who had once been a Mission teacher in Calabar, but who had

fallen into evil ways and was now homeless and a drunkard.

"How do you know," the latter said, "that it is not the God of the

white man that is angry with you? He is all-powerful."

"Where can I find this God!" the chief queried.

"I am not worthy to say, but go to the white Ma at Itu, and she will

tell you."

"I will go," was the reply.

He took a canoe and watched for Mary on the Creek, but missed her. In

his impatience he engaged the old teacher, who had still his Bible, to

come and read _Iko Abasi_ to him. Again he sent for "Ma," but she had

gone on to Arochuku. Then he kept a man on the look-out in the Creek,

and it was he who had intercepted her.

"And now," he said, "will you show me what to do?"

As he told the story several big, fattened ladies had come in, and a

number of children and dependants. She prayed with them, sent for the

teacher's Bible, and talked with them long and earnestly. The chief's

wife made her a cup of tea, and she left, promising to come later and

see what she could do to develop a station.

The detour had made her late, and the canoe ran into a sudden storm of

wind and rain, but her heart was jubilant, and kept singing and praying

all the way to Itu. For God was good, and He was leading her, and that

was perfect happiness.

IV. A SLAVE-GIRL'S TRIUMPH

The problem was how to follow up so promising a beginning. It occupied

her thoughts day and night, but she came to the conclusion that she

could not conscientiously leave Miss Wright alone at Akpap. The station

was too isolated for her, and if she became ill it might be weeks

before any one knew. An alternative was to remain herself at Akpap, and

allow Miss Wright to go to Itu, where she would be in touch with the

Mission, and could canoe down to Calabar if anything went wrong. The

plan she liked best was to hand the station over to a minister, so that

both she and Miss Wright could establish themselves at Itu and work the

Creek between them. As the months went by and she paid flying visits to

the infant causes at Itu and Amasu, she became more and more convinced

of the magnificent opportunity lying to the Church's hand in these

regions. At Itu the congregation had grown to one of over three hundred

intelligent and well-dressed people meeting in a church built by

themselves. In August at Amasu she found a school of sixty-eight on a

wet day, and of these thirty-eight could read the first book. That they

had been brought under discipline was shown by the fact that as she

entered all rose silently and simultaneously, as if they had been years

instead of weeks at school.

The same month witnessed an event which gave her unbounded happiness.

Jean, and Mana the slave-girl, Iye the twin-mother of Susie, Akom the

first-fruit of Ekenge, and Esien the teacher at Itu, were baptized, and

sat down at the communion-table. Many others were there, and joined in

spirit in the celebration, but owing to difficult native complications

could not take the step, and Mary never cared to force matters. Esien's

mother had been very unwilling for her son to come under Christian

influence, and now she was not only present, but actually sat beside

two twin-mothers. Akom's face was transfigured. Jean's adopted child,

Dan, was also baptized on the occasion, and it was a great and solemn

joy to Mary to see her oldest bairn give him to God, and promise to

bring him up in His fear.

In October she was at Itu watching the building of the house for

herself and teacher, and nothing delighted her more than the way in

which the women worked along with the men. "I wish Crockett had been

here to gather the shafts and sparks of wit and satire that flew with

as much zest as ever obtained in a Galloway byre or market fairin'. It

is such a treat to me, for no intercourse is permitted between the

sexes in Okoyong, except that of the family, and then it is strained

and unnatural, but here they were daffin' and lauchin' as in Scotland.

How wholesome are God's own laws of freedom and simplicity." The house

was to, have six rooms--three for herself, one for Miss Wright or other

lady missionary, one for Mana, and one for Esien and Effiom. "I'm

afraid that is too much for you," she said, thinking of the mats which

were not easy to obtain. "It's not too much, Ma; nothing can be too

much. We will do it." One woman came and insisted on washing her feet

in hot water. She had to give in, and as she sat down the woman said,

"Ma, I've been so frightened you would take our teacher away because we

are so unworthy. I think I could not live again in darkness. I pray all

the time. I lay my basket down and just pray on the road."

This woman sometimes prayed in the meetings, and electrified the

audience, and she had begun to have devotions in her own home, though

her husband laughed at her. There were many others of the same type,

and it was a black slave-girl who had been the one behind it all. Mana

taught and nursed and trained them, quietly and modestly, as a mother

might. It was an inspiration to Mary to see her; as she looked upon

such results she cried, "Oh! if only the Church knew. If only it would

back us up." To her friends she wrote, "Prayer can do anything; let us

try its power."

Returning to Akpap with two of the girls and some small children, she

was caught in a tornado and made her way over the six miles of bush-

road through pelting rain. The darkness was lit up by almost continuous

lightning, but they lost their way, and she had at last to commandeer

an old native to lead them. Such experiences were now part of her

ordinary life again. On her trips up and down the Creek she was

constantly drifting into strange situations, and being reduced to

sleeping on mud floors, or on straw in the open, drinking tea made in

empty milk tins, and subsisting for days on yam and oranges. And always

she was treated by the natives with as much gallantry and courtesy as

if she were a queen, and always she was singing in her heart psalms of

thanksgiving and gratitude.

But she was not able as formerly to resist the effects of such

exposure, and was often weary, and her weariness brought nervousness

and lack of sleep. At times she was afraid of the unknown future

opening out before her, and appalled when she thought of all the

details of labour, supplies, and management that were coming upon her

shoulders. In the dark she would rise and cry, "Calm me, O God, and

keep me calm." Then she would go and look at the sleeping children and

comfort herself with the sight. "Surely," she would say, "I have more

reason to trust God than childhood has after all the way He has led

me."

V. A BUSH FURLOUGH

She at last determined to give up her furlough in Scotland, now drawing

near, and spend the time instead in prospecting in the new country. All

her hopes and aims were expressed in a definite and formal way in the

following document, which she sent to be read at the November meeting

of the Committee--now the Mission Council--at Calabar:

I think it is an open secret that for many years the workers here have

felt that our methods and modes were very far from adequate to overtake

the needs of our immense field, and, as the opportunities multiply and

the needs grow more clamant, the question grows in importance and

gravity. The fact that only by stated consecutive work can a church be

evolved and built up, and a pagan nation be moulded into a Christian

people, cannot be gainsaid, and yet there is an essential need for

something between, something more mobile and flexible than ordinary

congregational work and methods. The scattered broken units into which

our African populations are divided, their various _jujus_ and _mbiams_

and superstitions which segregate even the houses of any common

village, make it necessary for us to do more than merely pay an

occasional visit, even if that visit results in a church or a school

being built.

Many plans suggest themselves. Church members organised into bands of

two or three or four to itinerate for a week over local neighbourhoods;

native teachers spending a given number of days in each month in the

outlying parts of their districts; trading members of the church

undertaking service in any humble capacity on up-river trading

stations--in these and many other ways the gaps might be bridged and a

chain of personal interest and living sympathy link on the raw heathen

to the church centres, and the first rays of gospel light be conveyed

and communication be opened without the material expense which the

opening of new stations involves. For instance, I have spent a Sabbath

at Umon, and ever so many Efik traders, men and women, joined in the

congregational worship, reading from Bibles and hymn-books which had

been locked in their boxes; but either timidity or some other cause

kept them silent when there was no one to lead. Could not a beginning

be made for those, either by initiating such a service or organising

those who were trading at any place so that evening worship or some

such simple way of bringing gospel truth before the minds of the

heathen could go on continuously? The same holds good of Itu and other

places.

For the last decade the nearer reaches of the river on which we ply

have occupied a great deal of my thoughts, but from various causes no

sort of supervision at all adequate suggested itself. So there has been

little definite work accomplished. A few readers at Odot, desultory

teaching at Eki and the back of Itu, and Umon, covers it all, I fear.

With Miss Wright's coming, opportunities, not of our personal seeking,

have forced themselves on us, and though we have done the best we could

with the materials at hand, all seems so little and incomplete that the

following proposal or petition or request or whatever you may term it,

has been prepared, and that from no mere impulse of the moment but

after careful, prayerful consideration. I may say here that Miss Wright

is fully in sympathy with it, and it is from both of us.

By the 2nd January 1904 I shall have been out five years, and so my

furlough would then be due, but as I have not the slightest intention

of going to Britain--I am thankful to say I do not feel any necessity

for so doing--I propose to ask leave from the station for six months,

during which time I should, in a very easy way, try to keep up an

informal system of itinerating between Okoyong and Amasu. Already I

have seen a church and a dwelling-house built at Itu, and a school and

a couple of rooms at Amasu. I have visited several towns of Enyong in

the Creek, and have found good enough accommodation, as there are semi-

European houses available and open for a lodging. I shall find my own

canoe and crew, and shall stay at any given place any length of time

which the circumstances suggests so as not to tax my own strength, and

members of my own family shall help in the elementary teaching in the

schools. From our home here we should thus superintend the small school

at Idot, and start in a small way work at Eki, and reside mostly at Itu

as the base, working the Creek where the Enyon towns are on the way to

the farther base at Amasu, reside there or itinerate from there among

the Aro people in an easy way, and back again by Creek and Itu home.

What I have to ask of you is that in order to do this a lady be sent

out to be with Miss Wright. The latter is perfectly capable of

attending to the station; the school and dispensary work are already in

her hands, and with some one to help her I have not the slightest

hesitation in leaving her in charge. Both ladies could co-operate in

the travelling as choice or circumstances pointed, and as Miss Wright

has had a large share in the formation and equipment of the Itu and Aro

stations it would be very natural that she should take such a part in

developing them as might suggest itself to her. The three of us, I have

no doubt, could dovetail the details of the work so that no part should

suffer, nor should any special strain be put on our health. We should

like this to take shape by the end of the year, as the people will be

more get-at-able in their villages in such a visitation kind of way

than in the ordinary church methods during the dry season. All work in

towns is slack then, and village and visitation work have their proper

value.

In proposing this I know I am going in the very face of what seems to

be the only possible way of dividing our stations. My own desire is to

have a missionary with his wife and a native teacher take over Okoyong,

congregate the educated, and at least nominal Christian part of our

community, and build up a church in the ordinary way. He has more than

he can undertake to work upon in Okoyong alone, and he has endless

scope for extension up between the rivers toward Ugep and Edi-Iba.

It may be out of my province to speak of anything outside my own

station, but in as far as I know I am voicing the opinion of the

missionaries who are now working up Higher. I may say that if we are to

compass the peoples that lie at our hands, such as Itu, Enyong, Umon,

and those who may be reached all the year round, we ought to have Itu

manned as a proper European station. All and each of these peoples can

be reached and worked from Itu. Then as a natural and strategic point

in the business conduct of our Mission, Itu is incomparable. It was not

without reason that it was the slave mart, and that it became the

Government base for all work both for north and flank. The gateway to

the Aros and the Ibibios, holding the Enyong, and being just a day's

journey from what must ever be our base, namely the seaport of the

ocean steamers, having waterway all the year round and a good beach

front, it is the natural point, I think, at which our up and down river

work should converge.

But I am willing to change, and Miss Wright is willing to change, any

plan of ours in order to let any larger undertaking make way if it

should be proposed.

This communication was considered, and various proposals made, but the

finding of the Council was that they were unable to accept the whole

responsibility of the scheme, and that the matter should be forwarded

to the Women's Committee in Scotland, and Miss Slessor asked to wait

their decision. The question of further development was, however,

discussed, and the unanimous opinion was that Itu should be adopted as

a medical station in view of extension into the Aro country.

Miss Slessor was not discouraged. She next asked Mr. Wilkie to come and

see the nature of the ground for himself, and the possibilities it

held; and the result was a New Year trip up the Creek, the party

consisting of Mr. and Mrs. Wilkie, Miss Wright, and herself. She was

far from well--far more unwell than even Miss Wright was aware of--but

she, nevertheless, resolved to go, and was conveyed to Ikunetu in a

hammock. At Itu they camped at the church and house, neither of which

was yet finished, the doors being temporary erections, and the windows

being screened by grass mats. Mrs. Wilkie's camp-bed occupied one end

of the church, Miss Wright's the centre, whilst at the other end Miss

Slessor's native sofa was placed with mats round it for the children.

Mr. Wilkie found a resting-place in one of the native houses in the

town. Military operations were still progressing, and there was a camp

of soldiers at the foot of the hill, whose presence terrified the

people, and they besought the missionaries to remain for their

protection until the men moved on, and this they did. Colonel

Montanaro, who arrived later, called on the ladies, and had a long talk

with Mary, to whom he expressed his delight at the result of his

invitation to Arochuku. "These men," she wrote, "are held by invisible

but strong bands to what is good, though outsiders do not see it."

On the way up the Creek they were obliged to pass the night at Akani

Obio, where Chief Onoyom came down to the beach and escorted them to

his house, and gave them all the room they required, two courts lit up

by European lamps, and new mats. His fine face and courteous manners

made the same impression on the strangers as they had done on Miss

Slessor. It was found that the native teacher had been doing his best,

but the chief was keen for all the advantages of a station, and was

relying upon "Ma's" word to assist him. Next morning they again took to

the canoe, but the water became so shallow that they had to land and

tramp six miles to Amasu, passing the trenches where the natives sought

to ambush the punitive force. New roads were being constructed

everywhere, and barracks had been erected on a wind-swept hill in the

neighbourhood.

The church was built near the Creek, and was still incomplete. As there

was no house they camped in the church as best they could, Mrs. Wilkie

sleeping on a mud seat. The district, including the scene of the Long

Juju, was inspected, and the people interviewed, and the party returned

as they had come. They stopped at several villages, in one of which an

old chief brought out a box containing Bibles and a _Pilgrim's

Progress_ and reading-books. "I had a son," he said, "I was fond of

him, and he was anxious to learn book and God palavers, and I bought

these books and got some one to teach him, and was looking forward to

my boy becoming a great man and teaching the people good ways, but two

moons ago he died, and I have no more heart for anything.... I want

God," he continued fiercely, "and you won't leave me till I find Him."

"Oh, father," replied Mary, "God is here. He is waiting for you." The

chief found God, and became a Christian.

VI. BEGINNINGS

Miss Slessor's indomitable spirit never gave in, but her body sometimes

did. She had been suffering much these past months from weakening

ailments brought on as the result of exposure and lack of nourishing

food, and she finally collapsed and was again far down in the dark

valley. But kind hands ministered to her and nursed her back to health.

"I rose," she said, "a mere wreck of what I was, and that was not much

at the best. My hair is silvered enough to please any one now, and I am

nervous and easily knocked up, and so rheumatic that I cannot get up or

down without pain." She was gladdened by the news that the Mission

Council had given her permission to make her proposed tour, and was not

troubled by the condition that she must not commit the Mission to

extension. The Council thought that in view of her illness she ought

rather to go home, and offered to provide for the work at Akpap and

care for her children until she returned. But the burden of the Creek

lay sore on her mind, and as Miss Wright's furlough was also due, she

wished to be near Akpap in case of need. She informed the Council that

if she could be relieved she would begin her tour at once. When Miss

Wright left she gave more into the hands of Jean, who, she said, was as

good as any white servant; her right hand and her left.

When the matter once more came up at the Council it was decided to send

up two ladies to Akpap, and she was at last free to carry out her

desire. She looked forward to the enterprise with mingled feelings. "It

seems strange," she said, "to be starting with a family on a gipsy life

in a canoe, but God will take care of us. Whether I shall find His

place for me up-river or whether I shall come back to my own people

again, I do not know. He knows, and that is enough."

Perhaps the most remarkable feature of this new forward movement was

that she was going at her own expense, backed by the private liberality

of friends in Scotland, and assisted by native girls and boys, who

received nothing from her but their board. She never asked the Mission

to defray any of the expenditure which she incurred, and the building

was accomplished by herself and household, with the free labour of the

people. All that the opening up of the Enyong Creek to the Gospel cost

the Mission was her salary--which was now £100 per annum. She spent

scarcely anything of this on her own personal wants. "I have no object

on earth," she wrote at this time, "but to get my food and raiment,

which are of the plainest, and to bring up my bairns." A certain amount

was reserved at home by Mr. Logie, who all these years had managed her

affairs, and even this she was always encroaching upon. Whenever she

saw an appeal in the Press for any good object she would write to him

and request him to send a contribution.

There were many matters to be attended to before she left Akpap, and

she went down to Duke Town to hand over the business of the native

Court, and buy material for the buildings in the Creek. It was the

first time for many years that she had been on Mission Hill, and she

greatly enjoyed her stay with the Wilkies, in whose home she was able

to find quietness and comfort. The old people who knew the early

pioneers of the Mission flocked to see her, and her sojourn was one

long reception. A "command" invitation also came from the Commissioner,

but this she had the temerity to decline, saying that she was not

visiting. It is doubtful whether she had the attire fit for the

occasion. He, however, came to see her, and was charmed with her

personality.

It was on this visit that she brought another of the younger

missionaries under her spell--the Rev. J. K. Macgregor, B.D., Principal

of the Hope Waddell Institute. After his first meeting he wrote: "A

slim figure, of middle height, fine eyes full of power, she is no

ordinary woman. It was wonderful to sit and listen to her talking, for

she is most fascinating, and besides being a humorist is a mine of

information on mission history and Efik custom." Mr. and Mrs. Macgregor

grew into intimate friends, and their home, like that of the Wilkies',

thereafter became a haven of healing and rest.

She reached her base, Itu, with her family, in July, her health still

enfeebled, but her spirit burning like a pure fire, and established

herself in a house that was still unfinished. "What a picture it

presented," writes a Government doctor who visited her then. "A native

hut with a few of the barest necessities of furniture. She was sitting

on a chair rocking a tiny baby, while five others were quietly sleeping

wrapped up in bits of brown paper and newspapers in other parts of the

room. How she managed to look after all these children, and to do the

colossal work she did my comprehension." The joy of the people at her

advent boundless. Her bairns had done wonders; the congregation

numbered 350, all devout, intelligent people. "To-day," she wrote, "as

the custom is after the lesson, the bairns each took a part in prayer,

and before we rose a boy started 'Come, Holy Spirit, come.' We sang it

through on our knees."

But calls came every day from other regions. A deputation from the

interior of Ibibio pled, "Give us even a boy!" Another brought a

message from a chief in the Creek; "It is not book that I want; it is

God!" The chief of Akani Obio again came. "Ma," he said, "we have £3 in

hand for a teacher, and some of the boys are finished with the books

Mr. Wilkie gave us and are at a standstill." And, most pathetic of all,

one night, late, while she was reading by the light of a candle, a

blaze of light shone through the cracks of the house, and fifteen young

men from Okoyong appeared before her to say that the young ladies who

had come to Akpap had already gone, and they were left without a "Ma."

She sent them to a shelter for the night, and spent the hours in

prayer, "Oh Britain," she exclaimed, "surfeited with privilege! tired

of Sabbath and Church, would that you could send over to us what you

are throwing away!"

Invited to the Mission Council in November 1904, she went, this being

her first attendance for six years, and gave what the minutes call a

"graphic and interesting account" of what had been accomplished. In Itu

a church and teacher's house had been built; and there were regular

Sabbath services and a catechumens' class, with forty candidates, and a

day-school was conducted. At Amasu, Arochuku, a good school was built,

and ground had been given by the chiefs. There were also the beginnings

of congregations and buildings at four points in the Creek, at Okpo,

Akani Obio, Odot, and Asang. The work, she said, had not yet reached a

stage when she could conscientiously leave it; but she hoped before

departing to see established such a native, self-supporting agency

under the control of the Mission as would guarantee a continuance of

the enterprise. The Council received her report with thankfulness, and

gave her permission to continue for other six months on the same

condition as before--that no expense to the Mission should be involved

in what she undertook.

Many months of strenuous upbuilding followed, constantly interrupted by

petty illnesses of a depressing kind. The house at Itu was completed,

she herself laying down a cement floor, and Jean whitewashing the

walls. Cement underfoot for many reasons was preferred, one being that

it was impervious to ants. If these pests obtained hold of a house it

was difficult to drive them out, and many a night her entire family was

up waging battle with them. In connection with her supplies of cement

she was once picked up at Ikunetu by some of her colleagues, who

remarked on the number of trunks which accompanied her. "You are surely

richer than usual in household gear," they said. "Household gear!" she

echoed; "these are filled with cement--I had nothing else to bring it

in!" Once in Scotland a lady asked her if she had had any lessons in

making cement. "No," she replied; "I just stir it like porridge; turn

it out, smooth it with a stick, and all the time keep praying, 'Lord,

here's the cement if to Thy glory, set it,' and it has never once gone

wrong."

A picture of the days at this time is supplied by Miss Welsh: "We

visited the women in their homes--we had evening prayers in such yards

as the owners were willing to allow them. From morning till night 'Ma'

was busy--often far into the night. One brought a story of an unjust

divorce, another was sick; one brought a primer for a reading-lesson,

another was accused of debt and wished 'Ma' to vouch for his innocence;

another had, he declared, been cheated in a land case. All found a

ready listener, a friendly adviser and helper, though not all found

their protestations of innocence believed in, and none went away

without hearing of the salvation God had prepared for them."

The Okoyong people continued to come to her with their troubles. "They

seem to think," she says, "that no one can settle their affairs but

this old lady." Rescues of twin-children were also going on all this

time. She could not now rush off, as she used to do, when the news

arrived, but she sent Jean flying to the spot, and the infants would be

seized and the excited people held in check until she came on the

scene. "One more woman spoilt," she would say, "and another home broken

up."

Nothing gave her greater joy than the rapid development going on at

Akani Obio. Chief Onoyom had never swerved from his determination to

Christianise his people, and, although knowing practically nothing of

the white man's religion, had already started to build a church, using

for the purpose £800 which he had saved. At first he planned a native

building, but reflecting that if he were constructing a house for

himself it would be of iron, he felt he could not do less for God. He

therefore decided to put up as fine a structure as he could, with walls

of iron and cement floor and a bell-tower. To make the seats and pulpit

he had the courage to use a magnificent tree which was regarded as the

principal juju of the town. The story goes that the people declared the

juju would never permit it to be cut down. "God is stronger than juju,"

said Onoyom, and went out with a following to attack it. They did not

succeed the first day, and the people were jubilant. Next morning they

returned and knelt down and prayed that God would show Himself stronger

than juju, and then, hacking at the trunk with increased vigour, they

soon brought it to earth. That the people might have no excuse for

absenting themselves from the services during the wet season, Onoyom

also erected a bridge over the Creek for their use.

To the dedication of the building came a reverent, well-dressed

assembly. The chief himself was attired in a black suit, with black

silk necktie and soft felt hat. He provided food for the entire

gathering, but would not allow anything stronger than palm wine to be

drunk. Very shyly he came up to "Ma" and offered her a handful of

money, asking her to buy provisions for herself, as he did not know

what kind she liked.

Two short years before, the place and people had been known only to

traders.

Up in Arochuku similar progress was being made. Her first long stay

there, spent in a hut without furniture--with not even a chair to sit

on--was a happy and strenuous one. She was busily engaged in erecting a

schoolhouse with two rooms at the back. "Little did I dream," she

wrote, "that I would mud walls and hang doors again. But the Creek is

at the back door, and we have bathing in the sunshine, and it is a

delightful holiday." The earlier meetings were held in the open; the

chiefs sat on improvised seats, the principal women, clothed and

unclothed, squatted on skins or mats on the ground, lads and children

stood about, the townspeople kept well back amongst the protecting

foliage. In the centre, in the shade of a giant tree, was a table

covered with a fine white cloth, and upon it a Bible and a native

primer. Here she stood to conduct the service, so strange to the savage

people. As she began, there was a stir at the side and a big chief, one

of the principal traders to Okoyong in former days, moved into the

circle, along with his head wife. He was followed by another and his

children, and then others appeared, until she had a great audience. She

could scarcely command her voice. To gain time she asked a chief to

begin with prayer in the Ibo tongue. All knelt. A hymn followed; there

was not the least semblance of a tune, all joining in anyhow, but

sweeter music she never heard. The ten commandments were translated,

sentence by sentence, by a chief, as were also the lessons and the

address. Another hymn was sung, then came a prayer by an old man, and

another by a woman, and the meeting closed with all repeating the

Lord's Prayer.

It was the same at other towns and villages along the Creek. Churches

or schools were going up and congregations being formed. The notable

thing was that women were taking a prominent part in the meetings;

this, no doubt, was due to the fact that the pioneer missionary was a

woman. And the cry from all the districts was for women and not men--"A

White Ma to teach our women book and washing and machine."

In July Mr. Macgregor was able to visit the infant stations, and was

greatly impressed. To him the journey up Creek was a new experience. As

the canoe pushed its way through the water-lilies the Institute boys

sang Scottish Psalms to the tunes _Invocation_ and _St. George's_ much

to Mary's delight. "It's a long time since I heard these," she

exclaimed. "It puts me in a fine key for Sabbath." At Asang she

translated Mr. Macgregor's sermon to a gathering of 300 people. "Her

interpretation," he says, "was most dramatic; she gave the address far

more force in Efik than it had in English. It was magnificent. And how

the people listened!" He had the opportunity here of seeing how deftly

she handled a "bad" native. "Don't come to God's house." she ended;

"God has no need of the likes of you with your deceit and craft. He can

get on quite well without you--though you can't get on without God. Ay,

you have that lesson to learn yet."

At Arochuku it happened to be Egbo day, and the place was astir with

naked people, who came and stared at them as they ate. One man, who was

dressed in a hat, a loincloth, and a walking-stick, sat in a corner and

received a lecture from "Ma," which lasted the whole meal. They

explored the district, saw the tree where criminals were hanged after

terrible torture, the old juju-house with its quaint carving and relics

of sacrifices, the new palaver-shed of beaten mud, and the great slave-

road into the interior. At one spot she stopped and exclaimed, "That

was the road to the devil." It was the path to the Long Juju of bloody

memory. They returned by the new road through the _Ikot Mbiam_, the

accursed bush into which the sick and dying slaves were flung when

their days of useful service were over. At first the people would not

use this road; but now the land was laid out in farms and cultivations,

a tribute to the influence of British rule.

On the voyage down there were frequent showers in the Creek, and Mary

sat with a waterproof over her head and shoulders, a strange figure,

but with a face glowing with spirit. When the end was in sight she

proposed that they should sing the Doxology, and, none offering to

accompany her, she sang it herself-twice....

In the quiet of the tropic nights she read the books and magazines and

papers which friends sent her, and in this way kept abreast of world

affairs. Her favourite journals were _The British Weekly, The

Christian, The Life of Faith_, and _The Westminster Gazette_. Her

_Record_ she read from cover to cover. It was with painful interest

that she followed at this time the developments of the great Church

crisis in the homeland. "It tears my heart," she wrote, "to see our

beloved Church dragged in and through the mire of public opinion." But

she had faith that good would issue out of it all. A keen politician,

she thirsted for election telegrams during periods of parliamentary

transition. But in all times of public unrest and excitement she fell

back on the thought that God was on His throne and all was well.

VII. MOVING INLAND

Ibo or Ibibio--which was it to be? Both regions were calling to her,

and both attracted her. As the result of an arrangement with the Church

Missionary Society the administrative districts adjoining the Cross

River were recognised as the sphere of the United Free Church Mission.

"Now that this is settled," she wrote, "I shall try to take a firmer

hold in Arochuku. The church there is almost finished. My heart bleeds

for the people, but the Spirit has not yet suffered me to go." The dark

masses behind her at Itu drew her sympathies even more, simply because

they were lower in the scale of humanity. "It is a huge country, and if

I go in I can only touch an infinitesimal part of it. But it would be

criminal to monopolise the rights of occupation and not be able to

occupy."

Her line of advance was practically determined by the Government. Even

with military operations still going on a marvellous change was being

effected in the condition of Ibibio. The country was being rapidly

opened up, roads were being pushed forward, and courts established; the

stir and the promise of new life was pulsating from end to end of the

land. To her hut at Itu came Government and trade experts, consulting

her on all manner of subjects, and obtaining information which no other

one could supply. The natives, on the other hand, came to her enquiring

as to the meaning of the white man's movements, and she was able to

reassure them and keep their confidence unshaken in the beneficial

character of the changes.

She made rapid reconnaissances inland, and these set her planning

extension. Even the officials urged her to enter. They pointed to the

road. "Get a bicycle, Ma," they said, "and come as far as you can--we

will soon have a motor car service for you," Motors in Ibibio? The idea

to her was incredible, but in a few months it was realised. "Come on to

Ikot Okpene," wrote the officer at that distant centre--"the road is

going right through, and you will be the first here." She thought of

these men and their privations and their enthusiasm for Empire. "Oh,"

she said, "if we would do as much for Christ!" She, at any rate, would

not be found lagging, and in the middle of the year 1905 she sallied

forth, taking with her a boy of twelve years named Etim, who read

English well, and, at a place called Ikotobong, some five and a half

miles inland, she formed a school and the nucleus of a congregation. "I

trust," she said, "that it will be the first of a chain of stations

stretching across the country. The old chief is pleased. He told me

that the future, the mystery of things, was too much for him, and that

he would welcome the light. The people are to give Etim food, and I

will give him 5s. a month for his mother out of my store."

The lad proved an excellent teacher and disciplinarian, and gathered a

school of half a hundred children about him. Soon she was again in the

thick of building operations, and for a time was too busy even to

write. Slowly but surely Ikotobong became another centre of order and

light. The officials who ran in upon her from time to time said it was

like coming on a bit of Britain, and the Governor who called one day

declared that the place was already too civilised for her.

Much to her joy there was a forward movement also on the part of the

Church. The Mission Council had not put aside its decision to make Itu

a medical base, and had been pressing the matter upon the Foreign

Mission Committee in Scotland, which also recognised the value of her

pioneer work and the necessity of following it up and placing it upon a

proper basis. It was finally agreed to carry out the suggestion. Dr.

Robertson from Creek Town was transferred to Itu to take oversight of

the work on the Creek, a new mission house and a hospital were planned,

and a motor launch for the Creek journeys was decided on. For the

launch the students of New College, Edinburgh, made themselves

responsible, and they succeeded in raising a sum of nearly £400 for the

purpose. The hospital and dispensary and their equipment were provided

by Mr. A. Kemp, a member of Braid United Free Church, Edinburgh, an

admirer of Miss Slessor's work, and at his suggestion it was called the

Mary Slessor Mission Hospital. When the news came to her she wrote: "It

seems like a fairy tale. I don't know what to say. I can just look up

into the blue sky and say, 'Even so, Father; in good and ill, let me

live and be worthy of it all.' It is a grand gift, and I am so glad for

my people."

Thus relieved of Itu she established herself at Ikotobong. But she was

again eager to press forwards, and wished to plant a station some

fifteen miles farther on. It was a pace faster than the Church could

go. It had neither the workers nor the means to cope with all the

opportunities she was creating. It is a striking picture this, of the

restless little woman ever forging her way into the wilderness and

dragging a great Church behind her.

She had been amused at the idea of riding a bicycle, but she would have

tried to fly if she could thereby have advanced the cause of Christ,

and when Mr. Charles Partridge, the District Commissioner of Ikot

Ekpene, presented her with a new machine of the latest pattern, direct

from England, she at once started to learn. "Fancy," she wrote, "an old

woman like me on a cycle! The new road makes it easy to ride, and I'm

running up and down and taking a new bit in a village two miles off. It

has done me all the good in the world, and I will soon be able to

overtake more work. I wonder what the Andersons and the Goldies and the

Edgerleys will say when they see that we can cycle twenty miles in the

bush!" The Commissioner had also brought out a phonograph with him, and

she was asked to speak into it. She recited In Efik the story of the

Prodigal Son, and when the words came forth again, the natives were

electrified, "Does not that open up possibilities," she said, "for

carrying the Gospel messages into the bush?"

Her work of patient love and faith on the Creek saw fruit towards the

end of the year (1905), when the two churches at Akani Obio and Asang

were opened. A special meeting of Presbytery was held in the district,

and eight members were present at the ceremonies. At Akani Obio the

Rev. John Rankin accepted the key from Chief Onoyom in the name of the

Presbytery, and handed it to Miss Slessor, who inserted it in the lock

and opened the door. There was an atmosphere of intense devotion, and

Mr. Weir preached from the text, "This is none other but the house of

God, and this is the gate of heaven." The collection was over £5.

Boarding their canoe again the party proceeded to Asang, and were met

by crowds of people. Flags floated everywhere, and they passed under an

arch of welcome. When the new native church, larger even than that at

Akani Obio, came into sight, surrounded by well-dressed men and women

and children, words failed the visitors from Calabar. Again Mary opened

the door, and again the building was unable to hold the audience. Mr.

Rankin preached from "To you is the word of this salvation sent." The

collection was watched with astonishment by the visitors. It was piled

up before the minister on the table, and bundle after bundle of rods

followed one another, coming from those outside as well as those

inside, until the amount reached £20--a remarkable sum from a people

who were still heathen, but who were eager to know and learn about God

and the right way of life. The visitors looked at one another. "It is

wonderful," they said. "Surely it is of God." "Ma" was pleased but not

surprised; she knew how the people were crying for the light, and how

willing they were to give and serve. After the meeting the people would

not depart, and she and Mr. Weir addressed them outside. On the party

returning to Akani Obio an evening service was held, "and," wrote one

of them, "the night closed down on as happy a group of missionaries as

one could imagine," "It was grand," said another; "the best apologetic

for Christianity I ever saw."

Some weeks later the church at Okpo, where Jean had been teaching the

women and girls, was opened in the view of hundreds of the people, who

contributed a collection of £7.

Not all the natives regarded these strange doings with equanimity. At

Akani Obio some of the chiefs were so alarmed that they left the town

in the belief that misfortune would come upon them on account of the

church. But when they saw the people throwing away their charms and

flocking to the services and no harm befalling them, they returned.

They were very angry when Onoyom put away his wives--he made ample

provision for them--and took back as his one consort a twin-mother whom

he had discarded. By and by came a fine baby boy to be the light of his

home. Akani Obio became a prohibition town, and on Sundays a white flag

was flown to indicate that no trading was allowed on God's day.

VIII. THE PROBLEM OF THE WOMEN

One of the most baffling of West African problems is the problem of the

women. There is no place for them outside the harem; they are dependent

on the social system of the country, and helpless when cast adrift from

it; they have no proper status in the community, being simply the

creatures of man to be exploited and degraded--his labourer, his

drudge, the carrier of his kernels and oil, the boiler of his nuts. A

girl-child, if not betrothed by her guardian, lacks the protection of

the law. She can, if not attached to some man, be insulted or injured

with impunity. There was no subject which had given Mary so much

thought, and she had long come to the conclusion that it was the

economic question which lay at the root of the evil. It seemed clear

that until they were capable of supporting themselves, and subsisting

independently of men, they would continue in their servility and

degradation, a prey to the worst practices of the bush, and a strong

conservative force against the introduction of higher and purer methods

of existence. Enlightened women frankly told Miss Slessor that they

despaired of ever becoming free from the toils of tradition and custom,

and that there seemed no better destiny for them than the life of the

harem and the ways of sin. It was a serious outlook for those who

became Christians,--about whom she was most concerned,--and she could

not leave the matter alone. Her active mind was always moving amongst

the conditions around her, considering them, seeing beyond them, and

suggesting lines of improvement and advance; and in this case she saw

that she would have to show how women could be rendered independent of

the ties of a House, In Calabar Christian women supported themselves by

dressmaking, and much of their work was sent up-country, and she did

not wish to take the bread out of their mouths. Gradually there came to

her the idea of establishing a home in some populous country centre,

where she could place her girls and any twin-mothers, waifs, or strays,

or any Christian unable to find a livelihood outside the harem, and

where they could support themselves by farm and industrial work. A

girls' school could also be attached to it. Two principles were laid

down as essential for such an institution: it must be based on the

land, and it must be self-supporting--she did not believe in homes

maintained from without. All native women understood something of

cultivation and the raising of small stock, and their efforts could be

chiefly engaged in that direction, as well as in washing and

laundrying, baking, basket-making, weaving, shoemaking, and so forth.

Machinery of a simple character run by water-power could be added when

necessary.

In view of the uncertainty of her own future, and the opening up of the

country, she wisely held back from deciding on a site until she knew

more about the routes of the Government roads and the possible

developments of districts. She wanted virgin land and good water-power,

but she also desired what was still more important--a ready and

sufficient market for the products. In her journeys into the interior

of Ibibio she was constantly prospecting with the home in mind, and

once a chief who thought he had found a suitable site took her into a

region of more utter solitude than she had ever experienced in all her

wanderings, where a path had to be cut for her through the matted

vegetation. Not one of her guides would open his lips; while they

feared the wild beasts and reptiles, they feared still more the spirits

of the forest, and they remained silent in case speech might betray

them to these invisible presences.

Being a European she could not, according to the law of the land, buy

ground, but she proposed to acquire it in the name of Jean and the

other girls, and then give the Mission a perpetual interest in it. In a

report of her work on the Creek, which Miss Adam induced her to write

at this time, in the shape of a personal letter to herself, and which

appeared in the _Record_, and was characterised by masterly breadth of

outlook and clear insight into the conditions of the country, she made

a reference to the project, saying: "The expenditure of money is not in

question--I am guarded against that by the express command of the

Committee. I shall only expend my own, or what my personal friends give

me."

IX. A CHRISTMAS PARTY

With the few white men in the district she was very friendly. They were

chiefly on the Government staff, and included the surveyors on the new

road. Most of them were public-school men, and some, she thought, were

almost too fine for the work. "Life," she said, "is infinitely harder

for these men than for the missionary. But they never complain. They

work very cheerfully in depressing surroundings, living in squalid

huts, and undergoing many privations, doing their bit for civilisation

and the Empire. And they are all somebody's bairns." She won them by

her sympathy, entering into their lives, appreciating their

difficulties and temptations, and acting towards them as a wise mother

would. Her age, she said, gave her a chance others in the Mission had

not, and she sought in the most tactful way to lead them to a

consideration of the highest things.

Christmastide as a rule came and went in the bush without notice,

except for a strange tightening of the heart, and a renewal of old

memories. But this year, 1905, the spirit of the day seemed to fall

upon these lonely white folk, and they forgathered at Ikotobong, and

spent it in something like the home fashion. In a lowly shed, which had

no front wall, and where the seats were of mud, no fewer than eight

men--officials, engineers, and traders from far and near--sat down to

dinner. "They could have gone elsewhere," wrote "Ma," "but they came

and held an innocently happy day with an old woman, whose day for

entertaining and pleasing is over."

There was no lack of Christmas fare. An officer of high standing had

received his usual plum-pudding from home, but as he was leaving on

furlough, he sent it to "Ma"; a cake had come from Miss Wright, "the

dear lassie at Okoyong," and shortbread had arrived from Scotland, But

there was not a drop of intoxicating drink on the table.

After dinner the old home songs and hymns full of memories and

associations were sung, often tremulously, for each had loved ones of

whom he thought. Jean, who had secured a canoe and come from Okpo, and

the other children, were present, and they sang an Efik hymn; and

although Mary was the only Scot present the proceedings were rounded

off with "Auld Long Syne." "I just lay back and enjoyed it all," she

wrote, "It is fifteen years since I spent a Christmas like it. Wasn't

it good of my Father to give me such a treat? I was the happiest woman

in the Mission that night! If I could only win these men for Christ--

that would be the best reward for their kindness." Next day they sent

her a Christmas card on a huge sheet of surveying-paper, with their

names in the centre.

Miss Wright, along with Miss Amess, a new colleague, arrived on the

80th on a visit, and three of the Public Works officials spent the

evening with them. Mary began to talk as if it were the last night of

the year. "Oh," said one of the men, "we have another day in which to

repent, Ma." "Have we?" she replied. "I thought it was the last night--

and I've been confessing my sins of the past year! I'll have to do it

all over again." These officials asked the ladies to dine with them on

New Year's night, the form of invitation being--

"_The Disgraces three desire the company of the Graces three to dinner

this evening at seven o'clock. Lanterns and hammocks at 10 P.M.

R.S.V.P_."

In reply "Ma" wrote some humorous verses. The dinner was given in the

same native shed as before. As the table-boy passed the soup, one of

the men made as if to begin. "Ma," who was sitting beside him, put her

hand on his and said, "No, you don't, my boy, until the blessing is

asked," and then she said grace. After dinner the bairns, who had been

sitting at the door in the light of a big fire, were brought in, and

prayers were conducted by Mary. On that occasion, when Miss Amess was

bidding her "Good-bye," she said to her, "Lassie, keep up your pluck."

These men were very much afraid of the least appearance of cant, but

they would do anything for "Ma"; and when, a few days later, in order

to give an object-lesson to the natives, she proposed an English

service, they agreed, and one of them read the lessons, and another led

the singing. A short time before white men were unknown to the

district.

X. MUTINOUS

She was, under official ruling, to return to Akpap in April 1906, and

she was now reminded of the fact. She was in great distress, and

inclined to be mutinous. "There is an impelling power behind me, and I

dare not look backward," she said. "Even if it cost me my connection

with the Church of my heart's love, I feel I must go forward." And

again, "I am not enthusiastic over Church methods. I would not mind

cutting the rope and going adrift with my bairns, and I can earn our

bite and something more." She had thoughts of taking a post under

Government, or, with the help of her girls, opening a store. In a

letter to the Rev. William Stevenson, the Secretary of the Women's

Foreign Mission Committee, she pointed out how her settlement at Itu

had justified itself, and referred to the rapid development of the

country:--

In all this how plainly God has been leading me. I had not a thought of

such things in my lifetime, nor, indeed, in the next generation, and

yet my steps have been led, apart from any plan of mine, right to the

line of God's planning for the country. First Itu, then the Creek, then

back from Aro, where I had set my heart, to a solitary wilderness of

the most forbidding description, where the silence of the bush had

never been broken, and here before three months are past there are

miles of road, and miles and miles more all surveyed and being worked

upon by gangs of men from everywhere, and free labour is being created

and accepted as quickly as even a novelist could imagine. And the

minutes says "I am to return to Akpap in April!" Okoyong and its people

are very dear to me. No place on earth now is quite as dear, but to

leave these hordes of untamed, unwashed, unlovely savages and withdraw

the little sunlight that has begun to flicker out over its darkness! I

dare not think of it. Whether the Church permits it or not, I feel I

must stay here and even go on farther as the roads are made. I cannot

walk now, nor dare I do anything to trifle with my health, which is

very queer now and then, but if the roads are all the easy gradient of

those already made I can get four wheels made and set a box on them,

and the children can draw me about.... With such facts pressing on me

at every point you will understand my saying _I dare not go back_. I

shall rather take the risk of finding my own chop if the Mission do not

see their way to go on. But if they see their way to meet the new needs

and requirements, I shall do all in my power to further them without

extra expense to the Church.

"This," she characteristically added, "is not for publication; it is

for digestion."

There had never, of course, been any intention on the part of the

Church to draw back from the task of evangelising the new regions. But

the various bodies responsible for the work were stewards of the money

contributed for foreign missions, and they had to proceed in this

particular part of the field according to their resources. Both men and

means were limited, and had to be adjusted to the needs, not in an

impulsive and haphazard way, but with the utmost care and forethought.

All connected with the Mission were as eager for extension as she was,

but they desired it to be undertaken on thorough and business-like

lines. The difference between them and her was one of method; she, all

afire with energy and enthusiasm, would have gone on in faith; they,

more prudent and calculating, wished to be sure of each step before

they advanced another.

To her great relief she was permitted to have her way. When it was seen

that she was bent on pressing forward, it was decided to set her free

from ordinary trammels and allow her to act in future as a pioneer

missionary. It was a remarkable position, one not without its

difficulties and dangers, and one naturally that could not become

common. But Mary Slessor was an exceptional woman, and it was to the

honour of the Church that it at last realised the line of her genius,

and in spite of being sometimes at variance with her policy, permitted

her to follow her Master in her own fashion.

Her faith in the people and their own ability to support the work was

proved more than once. It was a plucky thing for these men and women to

become Christians, since it meant the entire recasting of their lives.

Yet this is what was now being often witnessed. One event at Akani Obio

was to her a "foretaste of heaven"--the baptism of the chief and his

slave-wife and baby, a score of her people, and sixteen young boys and

girls, including one of the lads who had assisted to paddle the canoe

on the day when the Creek was first entered. She was ill, and was

carried to and from the town in sharp pain and much discomfort, but she

forgot her body in the rare pleasure she experienced at the sight of so

many giving themselves to Christ. She had to hide her face on the

communion-table. "Over forty sat down in the afternoon to remember our

Lord's death 'till He come.' It cannot go back this work of His. Akani

Obio is now linked on to Calvary." She thought of those rejoicing

above. "I am sure our Lord will never keep it from my mother."

The news from Arochuku was also cheering, although the messages told of

persecution of the Infant Church by the chiefs, who threatened to expel

the teachers if they spoiled the old fashions. "And what did you say to

that?" she enquired. "We replied, 'You can put us out of our country,

but you cannot put us away from God.'" "And the women?" "They said they

would die for Jesus Christ." She was anxious to visit Arochuku again,

but there had been exceptional rains, and the Creek had risen beyond

its usual height and flooded the villages. Akani Obio suffered greatly,

the church being inundated. The chief was downcast, and in his

simplicity of faith thought God was punishing him, and searched his

heart to find the cause, until "Ma" comforted him. He determined to

rebuild the church on higher ground, and this intention he carried out

later. About a mile further up the Creek he chose a good site, and

erected a new town called Obufa Obio, the first to be laid out on a

regular plan. The main street is about forty yards wide, and in the

middle of it is the chief's house, with the church close by. The side

streets are about ten yards wide. All the houses have lamps hanging in

front, and these are lit in the evenings, The boys have a large

football field to themselves. Chief Onoyom, who is one of the elders of

session, continues to exercise a powerful influence for good throughout

the Creek.

One incident of the floods greatly saddened Mary. A native family were

sleeping in their hut, but above the waters. The mother woke suddenly

at the sound of something splashing about below. Thinking it was some

wild animal, she seized a machete and hacked at it. Her husband also

obtained his sword and joined in. When lights came, the mangled form of

the baby, who had fallen from the bed, was seen in the red water.

Distracted at having murdered her child, the mother threw herself into

the Creek and was drowned.

So convinced was Mary of the importance of Arochuku, and so anxious to

have a recognised station there, that she offered to build a house free

of expense to the Mission, if two agents could be sent up. This brought

the whole matter of extension to a definite issue, and a forward

movement was unanimously agreed on by the Council--the ladies being

specially anxious for this--any developments to take place by the way

of the Enyong Creek. A committee was appointed to visit Arochuku and to

confer with Mary. Two ladies were actually appointed by the Council,

one being Miss Martha Peacock, who was afterwards to be so closely

allied with her. When these matters came before the Foreign Mission

Committee in Scotland, a resolution was passed, which it is well to

give in full:

1. That they recognise the general principle, that, in all ordinary

circumstances the Women's Foreign Mission should not make the first

advance into new territory, but follow the lead of the Foreign Mission

Committee, the function of the former being to supply the necessary

complement to the work of the latter.

2. That, however, in view of (_a_) the earnest desire of the people of

the district in question to receive Christian teaching, and their

willingness to help in providing it; (_b_) the fact that the region has

been claimed by the United Free Church as within the sphere of its

operations, and has had that claim acknowledged by the Church

Missionary Society; (_c_) the steps which have already been taken by

Miss Slessor, and what she is further prepared to do: they regard it as

not only highly desirable, but the duty of the Church to occupy the

region in question as soon as it is possible.

3. That in view, on the other hand, of the present condition of their

funds, which are overtaxed by the already existing work, the Committee

deeply regret that it is beyond their means to add two new members to

the staff, as the Council requests, and that, therefore, the sending of

two new agents to Arochuku must be meantime delayed.

4. That the Committee, however, approve of the acceptance by the

Mission Council of Miss Slessor's generous offer to build the house,

but recommend the Council to consider whether the execution of the work

should not be delayed till there is a nearer prospect of new agents

being supplied.

They further return thanks to Miss Slessor for her generosity, and

record their warm appreciation of her brave pioneer work; and they

express the earnest hope that the Church, by larger liberality, may

soon enable them to make the advance which has been so well prepared.

Meanwhile the Rev. John Rankln had been given a roving commission in

order to ascertain the best location for the future station, and he

came back from a tour in Ibo and Ibibio and fired the Council with the

tale of what he had seen, and the wonderful possibilities of this great

and populous region.

"Close to Arochuku within a circle, the diameter of which is less than

three miles, there are," he said, "nineteen large towns. I visited

sixteen of these, each of which is larger than Creek Town, The people

are a stalwart race, far in advance of Efik. The majority are very

anxious for help. A section is strongly opposed, even to the point of

persecution of those who are under the influence of Miss Slessor, and

others have already begun to try to live in 'God's fashion.' This

opposition seems to be one of the most hopeful signs, as proving that

there will be at least no indifference. The head chief of all the Aros,

who was the chief formerly in control of the 'long juju' is one of

those most favourable. He has already announced to the other chiefs his

intention to rule in God's ways. He has been the most keen in asking

the missionary to come. A new church will be built, and he offers to

build a house for any missionary who will come."

With something like enthusiasm the Committee set apart Mr. Rankin

himself to take up the work at Arochuku, and accepted the

responsibility of sending him at once....

Thus Arochuku, like Itu, passed into the control of the Foreign Mission

Committee, and became one of their stations and the centre of further

developments, and thus Miss Slessor's long period of anxiety regarding

its position and future was at an end.

XI. ON THE BENCH

Recognising that "Ma" had an influence with the natives, which it was

impossible to abrogate, the Government decided to invest her with the

powers of a magistrate.

The native courts of Nigeria consist of a number of leading chiefs in

each district, who take turns to try cases between native and native.

The District Commissioner is _ex-officio_ president of those within his

sphere, and each court is composed of a permanent vice-president and

three chiefs.

Before leaving Itu she was asked informally whether she would consent

to take the superintendence of Court affairs in the district, as she

had done in Okoyong, but on a recognised basis. If she agreed, the

Court would be transferred to Ikotobong to suit her convenience and

safeguard her strength. She was pleased that the Government thought her

worthy of the position, and was favourable to the idea. Already she was

by common consent the chief arbiter in all disputes, and wielded unique

power, but she thought that if she were also the official agent of the

Government she might increase the range of her usefulness. Her aim was

to help the poor and the oppressed, and specially to protect her own

downtrodden sex and secure their rights, and to educate the people up

to the Christian standard of conduct; and such an appointment would

give her additional advantage and authority. "It will be a good

chance," she said, "to preach the Gospel, and to create confidence and

inspire hope in these poor wretches, who fear white and black man

alike; while it will neither hamper my work nor restrict my liberty."

On stating that she would do the work she was told that a salary was

attached to the post, but she declared that nothing would induce her to

accept it, "I'm born and bred, and am in every fibre of my being, a

voluntary."

The formal offer came in May 1905, in the shape of this letter:

1. I am directed by His Excellency the High Commissioner to enquire

whether you would accept office as a Member of Itu Native Court with

the status of permanent Vice-President. His Excellency is desirous of

securing the advantage of your experience and intimate knowledge of

native affairs and sympathetic interest in the welfare of the

villagers, and understands that you would not be averse to place your

service at the disposal of the Government.

2. It is proposed to assign you a nominal salary of one pound a year,

and to hand you the balance--forty-seven pounds per annum--for use in

forwarding your Mission work.

3. It is proposed to transfer Itu Court to Ikotobong.

She thanked the Government for the honour and for the confidence

reposed in her, and said she was willing to give her services for the

good of the people in any way, but she declined to accept any

remuneration.

She took over the books in October, acting then and often afterwards,

as clerk, and carrying through all the tedious clerical duties. It was

strange and terrible, but to her not unfamiliar work. She came face to

face with the worst side of a low-down savage people, and dealt with

the queerest of queer cases. One of the first was a murder charge in

which a woman was involved. Women were indeed at the bottom of almost

every mischief and palaver in the country. With marriage was mixed up

poisoning, sacrifice, exactions, oaths, debts, and cruelty unspeakable.

Mary was often sick with the loathing of it all. "God help these poor

helpless women!" she wrote. "What a crowd of people I have had to-day,

and how debased! They are just like brutes in regard to women. I have

had a murder, an eséré case, a suicide, a man for branding his slave-

wife all over her face and body; a man with a gun who has shot four

persons--it is all horrible!"

Here are three specimen charges, and the results, in her own writing:--

FOR IMPRISONMENT