NEWS FROM AFAR—HARRY'S ADVENTURES.
MYRA having prevailed on her aunt and cousins to take up their abode
with her for a time, they all returned to the cottage, where the
sisters devoted themselves, by every tender and sympathising attention,
to soothe the sorrow of the mourners.
Mrs. Somers meekly and submissively bore her loss as the wise
appointment of One who loved her even more than her husband could love,
and exerted herself in the remaining duties of life with unaltered
firmness and resolution. Her eldest son was still abroad, another was
completing his education, a daughter was soon to leave her for a new
home with one to whom she was willing to entrust her, and a younger one
found in Elsie a most affectionate companion and fellow-student at home.
Thus they were reposing calmly after their sorrowful change, when news
arrived which stirred up fresh and lively anxieties.
Harry Sherwood was a tolerable correspondent for a young man abroad
amidst novelty and change, and his letters were always received
with delight. But now came one which threw all the home party into
consternation, and sent them with an interest not lately felt to the
public organs of information, which were soon full of the frightful
tidings.
Harry's last news of himself had been that, in consequence of some
delay in the business in which he was engaged, he was at liberty to
employ a portion of time as he pleased, and that he was about to start
on a journey to a distant part of the country, where he hoped to find
their friend Mr. Penwald, who was acting as a missionary, and assisting
some laborious brother in his huge district and overwhelming work. He
added that he would be accompanied by a servant and a guide, and that
if he were unable to send a letter by the next mail, they were to feel
no apprehension or uneasiness about his safety.
By the second mail afterwards came the startling letter, written in
evident haste and excitement.
"MY DEAREST SISTERS,—Feel no alarm for me. Thanks to God's mercy, I
am safe; but news will reach England, perhaps ere you receive this,
which will nearly drive the nation mad. The native troops are in open
mutiny almost everywhere in the Punjaub; our brave countrymen are at
their mercy, if they know such a word, and cruel murders are being
perpetrated every day, which thrill every European heart with fear and
horror. The risk is terrible that we, God's witnesses in the land,
should forget our Christianity and turn lawful self-defence into fierce
revenge. Pray that we may 'resist the devil,' who is sorely tempting
us. Twice has Ralph Penwald turned my aim, and sent a bullet into the
air which was intended for skulking wretches who had been taking their
fill of English blood.
"'Harry,' said he sternly, '"Vengeance is Mine, I will repay, saith the
Lord." Retribution will come, but we are not bidden to work it out.
Let us rather snatch every opportunity to sow the seed of that kingdom
whose laws of love and grace shall render such a state of things
impossible for the future.'
"Noble, brave Penwald! Soldier of the cross, and worthy of his Captain
is he! And there are many like him here. We are together for the
present, and safe. No time for more now. The letters are going by a
careful hand to secure transmission, for telegraph wires are cut and
mailbags rifled, and communication is difficult; but troops, British
troops, are coming, and then all will soon be right again."
Alas, how many a tale of horror had to be told before this sanguine
hope could be realised!
A weary month or more must pass before any further news could reach
the cottage, and there, as well as in hundreds, perhaps thousands, of
British homes, daily went up to God the supplications of His people
for help and mercy for India, and deliverance for the besieged and the
wanderers.
At last more letters came, and after the first sense of thankfulness
that the beloved writer was still safe, they could be read and pondered
with absorbing interest. Some extracts will suffice:—
"I did not tell you how I found Mr. Penwald. He was gone to visit a
military station at M—, and the people among whom he had been working
had become extremely anxious about him. They said he was safer with
them, and they wished him to return. Would I go and seek him, and bring
him back, for danger was rising around all the 'feringhi.'
"Taking directions for resuming the journey, and accompanied by my
two companions, I set out for M—, where we arrived in safety, and
where hasty preparations were making for any sudden alarm, bad news
having reached the town, and doubts of the native soldiery having been
entertained by some of their officers.
"As I was dismissing my guide, he advanced rather near, and said
gravely, in a low voice, 'Let the sahib leave here to-night, he is not
safe; so his blood shall not be on my head.'
"'How do you know?' I whispered, stopping him as he was retreating.
'What is there to fear?'
"'Look in every Sepoy face,' he said; 'see there death to every
feringhi on Indian ground, and to me also for warning you'; and,
darting away, I saw him no more.
"I found Mr. Penwald at the house of a missionary, and though our
meeting was mutually pleasant, and he realised my highest expectations,
yet some of the circumstances of it were by no means satisfactory. I
told him the parting words of my guide, and after a short consultation
with his friends, we went together to the officers' quarters.
"The colonel would not believe in the disaffection of his men,
insisting that the danger must be from without, and he would trust to
their fidelity to protect the station. He said he should call them
together, appeal to their honour, and expect them to do their duty.
"Returning to the residence of our host, we met my servant and a man in
attendance on some department at the barracks, but, if a soldier, he
was not in uniform. As we passed, he said quietly, without looking at
us, 'Fly, all of you. Trust no one, but go. It is not missionary, but
European blood they thirst for. The signal is given when the colonel
speaks.'
"As we all understood the language sufficiently to appreciate this
speech, imagine our dismay. What to do it was difficult to tell.
"'You must depart at once, Harry,' said Mr. Penwald; 'and may we soon
meet again in a happier hour.'
"'And you?' I said inquiringly.
"'I cannot leave my friends in their danger,' he said decisively.
"'Then I stay also. I am not going to leave you in danger. But if
everybody goes with us, all right; if not—'
"'But, Harry, your sisters, Miss Sherwood.'
"'My sisters, Myra at the head of them, would be ashamed of me if I
forsook a friend in his hour of need. That is settled, so consider what
is to be done.'
"Our friends were helpless, so far as immediate flight was the
question. There were sick ones who could not be moved in a hurry, and
who ought not to be alarmed while it was possible to avoid it.
"Then Penwald turned round upon the gathering group who followed us,
some European, some native Christians:
"'Friends and brothers,' said he, 'let us not forget our best
Protector. While others are using means, as is their duty, for the
safety of the station, let us strengthen their hands by appealing to
Him who has all at His disposal, for "Except the Lord keep the city,
the watchman waketh but in vain." Come, all who can pray and trust.'
"We went in at once, and all who could crush in followed us. Penwald
read the 121st Psalm in Hindustani and in English, and then we all
knelt down. But oh, what a prayer was that! How we realised at once the
very presence of the Most High God! We asked if it might be His will
that we and the whole inhabitants of the station might be preserved
from all danger of a violent death, and kept from the fear of evil, and
that if such were not His will, He would open His arms of welcome and
receive us all at home in joy and peace. We prayed for the officers in
command, and the poor misguided men; and then, magnifying the mighty
love of the Son of God, through whom we may ask what we will, a spirit
of self-devotion and heroism seemed to inspire the praying band, the
audible 'Amen' was caught up from without, and we might have been a
company of returning victors, instead of a little flock expecting to be
led to slaughter.
"Then we went as near to the parade-ground as we might venture, and
waited in solemn anxiety the result of the colonel's appeal. The men
looked sullen and gloomy while he spoke, and we afterwards learned that
a leader in the mutiny of the regiment was to shoot him down as the
signal for the work of butchery to begin.
"'Now, my men,' said the colonel in conclusion, 'all who are true to
the Queen they have sworn to serve, march to your quarters; all who
wish to renounce her authority, lay down your arms.'
"It was a solemn moment. The colonel stood in the midst, a tempting
target for the intended ball. Not a man moved; irresolution had seized
them; they looked at each other. Suddenly a sergeant throw down his
musket, and pointed to the officer. 'We will not harm you, but we will
not serve you,' he said; whereupon there was a clamour of falling arms,
and in a few minutes the ground was clear, and the British stood alone
in the compound. We were saved for that time, and a large assembly
gathered round the missionary quarter, while the 124th Psalm arose from
the midst in thrilling tones of praise.
"Of course the next thing was to prepare for removal to a safer
place, for we were now without any means of defence, and the
probability was great that the mutineers would join a marching body of
fellow-countrymen and return in strength to destroy the station.
"The next morning we all decamped; horses and carriages of all kinds
were in requisition, and, protected by the officers, their faithful
servants, and some of the friendly natives, we reached this fort in
safety. In two days the whole of the European dwellings, barracks,
school, church, were a heap of ruins, torn to pieces as it were by the
malice which resented the escape of the occupants."
Another extract of later date:—
"I have not time to tell you a tenth part of what is passing here.
Though judgments seem abroad in the land, wonderful are some of the
escapes and deliverances to which many can bear witness. For ourselves,
at one time, in consequence of the withdrawal of our best troops for
points of apparently greater need, we were exposed to the risk of utter
destruction. Refugees came in with news of large bodies of the enemy
marching upon us with savage glee, having learned how slender were our
means of defence. On many a morning we assembled in surprise that our
refuge had survived the night. You may imagine, if you can, how solemn
were our prayers, how fervent our thanksgivings.
"One evening our scouts rushed breathless into our quarters, saying
that they had actually seen a large armed force rapidly advancing, and
that nothing could now save us.
"'God's will be done,' was the calm comment of Ralph Penwald, evidently
mastering the strong rush of feeling as he gazed on the despairing
countenances of many around him. '"He shall deliver thee in six
troubles; yea, in seven there shall no evil touch thee." Let us ask Him
again.'
"Oh, if you had seen the flush of hope that once more sparkled in
tearful eyes, as husbands and fathers, mothers and maidens, knelt down
at once, while the missionary led their prayers! It was another moment
to be remembered for ever. Then so calmly, so trustfully, they rose
and went about the duties allotted to them, no one going to sleep, I
suppose, all through the livelong night.
"But no sound disturbed us, no enemy came upon us. A native teacher in
disguise from a neighbouring village came to tell us that the Sepoy
troops halted to arrange their plan of attack, disputed, hesitated,
received some information which totally changed their purpose, and
were by that time many miles away on some different scheme in their
diabolical plot. May we not sing, 'Oh that men would praise the Lord
for His goodness, and for His wonderful works to the children of men!'?
"Another marked deliverance is reported here, of which I must tell you.
A party of rebels one night suddenly surrounded a number of undefended
bungalows, and shot a lighted arrow into the thatch of one, which of
course caught fire, and the alarmed inmates took refuge in the next
nearest to them. The wind blew the flaming pieces over the other
dwellings, and the savages outside expected the whole to be consumed,
and that the terrified inhabitants must rush out upon their ready
swords. But in that bungalow dwelt children of God, and they also flew
to arms, but their weapon was prayer, their shield was faith; and,
inviting their neighbours in, while shouts and yells rang round them,
they cast themselves on the pity and protection of their God. In a few
minutes the fiery fragments of thatch which had been falling around the
other dwellings were seen to take a different direction—the wind had
changed. Whether the rebels thought that some invisible guardianship
was around these praying people, or that they were well able to defend
themselves if attacked by sword and musket, cannot be told, but they
presently moved off; and left the thankful families with no further
damage than the one burnt bungalow which had been first fired. Surely,
surely we shall never doubt our God again! Many a pen will record
incidents of human heroism and deeds of daring in these terrible days,
but 'who shall declare the mighty acts of the Lord, or show forth all
His praise?'
"But to return to our own adventures. As soon as it was considered
practicable, my leave of absence having expired, I had to return to my
business duties. The country in that direction was reported quiet, and
I felt no fear, though my escort was but slender. Mr. Penwald insisted
on accompanying me, and propounded such weighty reasons in connection
with a certain quartette of anxious hearts in England that I was fain
to submit. By the way, I should tell you that this man bewitches
people, and makes them do his bidding in a most extraordinary manner.
He is somewhat darker in complexion than when we met him eight years
ago; and, dressed again in English broadcloth, might still be taken for
a civilised gentleman. There is the same intellectual brow and pleasant
smile and graceful manner that won our hearts by the Elwy's banks; and
very vivid seems to be his remembrance of those two happy days—happy,
I mean, to us; to him, perhaps otherwise. He says Frank has kept him
pretty well informed about us until the last year, and seems surprised
not to have heard from him lately.
"Well, we set out, and jogged very comfortably for the first day. Then
we passed through a village, where the people looked rather unfriendly,
and mischief seemed brewing. All at once shots were fired, and an aged
European, in the dress of an officer, was dragged across our path by a
native, followed by a young girl shrieking for her father. They were
evidently refugees, and were not to find protection there. We sprang to
the ground, beat off the captors, scrambled both father and daughter up
with us on our horses, and galloped off for our lives. Shots were fired
after us, which I thought had not taken any effect; but at the first
place where it seemed safe to halt, I observed for the first time that
Penwald was deadly pale, and could scarcely support the slight form of
the girl upon his horse.
"We dismounted, and some kind people came to offer assistance, which
was gladly accepted. A bullet had lodged in Penwald's shoulder, and
there was nothing for it but to hasten on to obtain proper surgical
attention. The old officer and his daughter entreated permission to
accompany us, and we made the best arrangements in our power. Penwald
held up like a hero, as he is, and horses were procured for our
friends. Another day, with occasional halts and rapid riding, brought
us to our present safe quarters, near to the factory where I am at
work. Penwald's wound was much inflamed, but the ball is extracted,
and he is doing well. I shall be extremely glad if he is obliged to go
to England for change of air, and shall bribe the doctors to order it.
But he is set upon preaching the gospel to those savages, and I suppose
will do it though it costs his life. However, I have had too many
lessons lately to doubt that all will be well with them that love our
Lord.
"But how can I ever be thankful enough to you, dearest Myra, for
teaching me something of the precious religion of Jesus?"
"Dear Harry!" said Myra. "He has had a higher and better Teacher, or he
could scarcely have written like this."
Subsequent accounts confirmed the hope that Mr. Penwald had recovered
from his wound; but, to his young friend's great disappointment,
he determined to return to his post, and to exert himself more
energetically than ever for the spiritual welfare of the misguided
people.
It was ascertained, so far as the means of information could elicit
facts, that not one Christian convert had joined the rebels, or aided
their cause with the smallest sympathy or help; while it was thankfully
proved that, even at the risk of persecution and death, many of them
warned, protected, and secreted the Christians and Europeans in their
hour of need.
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