BETROTHAL, BEREAVEMENT, AND DESIGNATION TO THE CAMEROONS
Comber began his missionary life at Victoria, the colony founded by
Alfred Saker as the new home of the little Protestant community, driven
from Fernando Po by the intolerance of the Roman Catholic authorities.
Victoria was situated on the shore of Ambas Bay, and at the foot of the
Cameroons Mountain, which Comber climbed one day, finding at the top the
bottle left there by Captain Burton, an exploit which led to a pleasant
interchange of compliments at a meeting of the Royal Geographical Society
in London.
Not long after his arrival Comber was left in sole charge of the station,
and threw himself into the work with characteristic zeal. Grenfell,
meanwhile, was working at Bethel station on the Cameroons river.
Subsequently the two were thrown much together and formed a friendship
which was of happiest omen for the cause of Christianity in Central
Africa. Both of them turned with longing eyes to the interior, yearning
for work among heathen tribes whose original depravity had not been
complicated and deepened by imported European evils. But their dreams of
local extension were broken by the call to the Congo.
Stanley’s historic journey “Through the Dark Continent,” in the course
of which he proved that the Lualaba River and the Congo were one and the
same stream, and the opportune munificence of Mr. Robert Arthington of
Leeds, whose inspired guess had anticipated the explorer’s discovery,
made a new departure in the work of the Baptist Mission at once possible
and obligatory. I have told the story of this new departure at some
length in “The Life of George Grenfell,”[1] and must here compass the
matter in a few rapid sentences.
The Committee of the B.M.S. realised that in Comber and Grenfell they had
men who were providentially raised up, endowed, equipped, and placed, for
the new enterprise. On January 5, 1878, the young missionaries received
the expected invitation to undertake a pioneering expedition in the Congo
region. Their assent was instant and enthusiastic, and while awaiting
final instructions they made a flying visit to the lower reach of the
Congo, and laid some stepping-stones for future use.
Encouraged by their reconnoitring experiences, they returned, completed
their preparations, sailed from Cameroons on June 28th, and early in
August were in San Salvador, the capital of the ancient kingdom of Congo,
making friends with the king. They felt their way a stage or two further
on toward Stanley Pool, but encountering obstacles, realising the
imperative need of reinforcements, and being profoundly convinced of the
feasibility and the obligation of the new enterprise, they went back upon
their tracks, Grenfell returning to the Cameroons, and Comber coming to
London to tell his story and to ask for men. He got them in the persons
of Holman Bentley, Harry Crudgington, and John Hartland.
Hartland had long cherished in his heart the desire to be a missionary,
but the way had never opened for him to secure the college training
which seemed to be necessary, and so his desire had remained his secret,
discussed only with his sister. But Comber’s appeal so stirred him that
he could not restrain himself longer. On returning from a meeting of the
Young Men’s Missionary Society, held at the Mission House, he wrote to
Comber in these terms:—
“I have longed, I have prayed to go, and have often cried, ‘Here am I;
send Me’; but I have never yet felt that He was sending me, and I dare
not go alone. But to-night you said you wanted to take back with you
to Africa one or two men at once. The preparation for mission work was
always my obstacle, but if the men you need are men ready to dedicate
themselves, _as they are_, and at once to the Lord’s service—if the only
preparation needed is the preparation of the Holy Spirit; if the wisdom
needed is that wisdom promised to those who ask; if the sufficiency is
not a college education, but the sufficiency which is of God—I cannot, I
dare not hold back.... My mind is fully made up, that if you will accept
me (and you know what I am, I have no need to introduce myself to you),
as a fellow-helper in the Lord’s work, and if the Society will take me
as one of their workers, I am ready this day to consecrate myself to the
Lord.”
Comber’s joyous answer was: “Apply at once.” The application was duly
made and accepted, and on April 26, 1879, John Hartland, to his heart’s
desire sailed with Comber, Bentley, and Crudgington for the Congo. He was
known at Camden Road, as a quiet, rather nervous, good young man, and
probably none, save two or three who knew him best, supposed that he had
in him the making of a capable, heroic, missionary pioneer. But he had.
And in quiet station work at San Salvador, in adventurous journeys in
which he shared attempts to find a practicable way to Stanley Pool, and
in the heavy subsequent labour of establishing a line of communications
for the traffic of the mission, and especially for the transport of the
steamer _Peace_, he exhibited readiness of hand, resource of brain, and
devotion of spirit, which elicited the unstinted admiration and affection
of his colleagues. That he could write vividly is sufficiently proved
by the following extract from a long and profoundly interesting letter
wherein he tells of an experience which almost made an end of Comber’s
career and his own:—
“We walked into the town (Banza Makuta) and asked the people its name,
but got no answer. They drew back a little, and then one man called
out, “Nda bongo nkeli, vonda mindeli!” (“Fetch the guns; kill the white
men!”) and in an instant they rushed away returning immediately armed
with great sticks, huge pieces of stone, knives, cutlasses, and guns,
and without any word of palaver, commenced dancing and leaping round us,
and brandishing their weapons. Mr. Comber sat down by a house, and I was
about to do the same, but our assailants yelled out, “Get up, get up,”
and rushed upon us. Such fiendish, blood-thirsty, cruel countenances
I never saw. We got up and called to them to stop, that we would go
back, but it was no good, and stones came flying towards us, and sticks
and knives were brandished around us. We could see the people were
determined, not only to drive us from the town, but to have our lives,
so there was nothing left for us to do but to attempt flight, though
it seemed hopeless. Away we started, amid stones and blows. We all got
hit and bruised, but managed to reach the top of the steep hill, when a
sudden report rang out behind us, above the uproar, and Mr. Comber, who
was in front of me, fell. I dashed up to him and tried to assist him to
rise, but he said, “It’s no use, John; I’m hit, you go on.”
How Comber got up again, overtook Hartland and Cam, and ran with them for
many miles with a jagged ironstone bullet embedded in the muscles of his
back; and how ultimately they all three reached a friendly town and were
safe, is familiar history.
Possibly the reader may be wondering by this time whether, carried away
by interest in John Hartland and the Congo Mission, I have forgotten Miss
Thomas and my proper business. I hope the next paragraph may afford
adequate proof that this is not the case.
Early in 1882 Mrs. Seymour, who as Miss Nodes had been closely associated
with John Hartland in the children’s work at Camden Road, and whose
husband was his friend, received from him a most interesting and
momentous letter. In it he confessed that before leaving for the Congo
he had conceived a strong affection for Miss Gwen Thomas, and the hope
that one day he might have the happiness of securing her as his wife.
Foreseeing that he might not be able to endure the Congo climate, he
determined to keep his love and his hope secret, and had sailed without
giving word or sign. At least he had done his best in the matter of
concealment. But now that he had become acclimatised, and good prospect
of life and work was before him, he was minded to put his fate to the
test, and he desired Mrs. Seymour to broach the subject for him. On one
condition! He conceived it possible that during his absence Miss Thomas’s
interest and affection might have been engaged by some other man. If Mrs.
Seymour had reason to suppose that such was the case, then he would have
her burn his letter, and keep his secret, as he was sure that if Miss
Thomas knew she had been the innocent occasion of suffering to him, she
herself would suffer, and that purposeless suffering he would have her
spared. But if the way seemed clear, he desired a friend’s most friendly
mediation. He enclosed a letter addressed to his sister. If all went well
with his indirect wooing, he desired Mrs. Seymour to hand this letter to
Miss Hartland that his friends at home might have the earliest possible
intimation of his joy. But if things went awry, he would have the letter
destroyed, that they might not know that with other burdens he carried
the grievous addition of an unrequited love.
It was obviously the letter of a courteous, Christian gentleman, and much
impressed by its extreme chivalry, Mrs. Seymour proceeded to execute her
difficult commission. But finding that the negotiation was not to be
precisely a matter of plain sailing, with sound, womanly wisdom she made
haste to convey to her correspondent the time-honoured counsel, “Speak
for yourself, John.”
John spoke for himself, on such wise that obstacles were removed,
hesitations overcome, and in due course he received the word of assent
which his heart coveted. But he had to wait for it, with what patience he
could muster, through several weary months. The following letter will say
much to the discerning reader and spare me pages of laboured exposition:—
“ST. MARGARET’S,” HAMPSTEAD HEATH.
“_July 5, 1882._
“MY DEAR MRS. HARTLAND,—Thank you so much for your kind letter
of this morning. I am so glad that our engagement is pleasing
to you. I feel sure that it is the hand of God which has guided
us both in this matter. My only regret is that dear John should
have had such a weary waiting time. But I try to remember that
he is in ‘Our Father’s’ care as well as I. I do most earnestly
pray that I may be a help to him in the great and noble work he
has undertaken: work in which I have so long wished to have
a share, that I am almost afraid to realise that my heart’s
desire is about to be fulfilled. I can only leave my joy where
I have so often left my desires, at the feet of Him to whom
all hearts are open, all desires known. I am hoping to go home
on Saturday evening to spend the Sunday. If I am early enough
I will try to look in on my way. If not, I shall be at chapel
on Sunday morning and stay to communion there, when I shall
hope to see some of you. I would propose coming down in the
afternoon, but my own dear papa is so very unwell that I don’t
think I could leave. With best love to you all,
“Believe me,
“Yours affectionately,
“GWEN ELEN THOMAS.”
“St. Margaret’s, Hampstead Heath,” from which this letter is dated,
was the residence of Mr. and Mrs. May, in whose family Miss Thomas was
acting as governess, having responsible charge of their young children.
Her position was a singularly happy one. She was treated as a friend,
and received the utmost Christian courtesy and kindness, of which she
often speaks in her letters, with expressions of warm gratitude. Mr. and
Mrs. May used to spend the winter in Spain, and during their absence
Miss Thomas had the care of their children at Ramsgate. Consequently
her opportunities of seeing Mrs. Hartland were only occasional, but her
letters were frequent and affectionate. It is manifest that Mrs. Hartland
had taken the woman of her son’s choice into her heart, and that Miss
Thomas gladly accepted the spiritual hospitality.
She had kept John Hartland waiting a long time. A curious Nemesis
ordained that she in her turn should be kept waiting. Having despatched
the letter which is to abolish his anxieties and fill his heart with
rapture, she naturally yearns to have the record of the rapture before
her in black and white. Of course, she must wait for the mails; but
the mails come and the record tarries. Shipwreck and minor mischances
cause her hope to be deferred. Toward the end of September she writes
plaintively to Miss Hartland: “It seems as if all this year has been
taken up for me and John in waiting for letters.” Meanwhile her spare
time is not occupied in idle dreaming. She has taken up the study of
Portuguese, and writes out her Sunday-school lessons, finding this a more
fruitful means of studying the Bible than reading merely. Moreover she
thinks her MSS. “may come in handy by-and-by.” In October, by the irony
of fate, she gets news of her sweetheart through other people’s letters,
and ruefully writes to Mrs. Hartland: “John seems to have written to
every one by this mail except to Mrs. Seymour and to me”; and goes on to
say that she will be very glad when the suspense is over and she can look
forward to getting her letters every month. The November mail brought
peace.
“13, WELLINGTON CRESCENT, RAMSGATE.
“_November 19, 1882._
“MY DEAREST MRS. HARTLAND,—I must write just a line or two to
tell you I had my letter last night. Wasn’t it nice? On his
birthday! And so the long waiting time is over for both of us
at last. I can hardly believe it. It is all so wonderful, the
way that the Lord has led us both. Poor dear old boy! he has
had a long, weary time altogether. But it is over at last, and,
as he puts it, ‘The joy of the present is all the sweeter for
past sorrow.’ I suppose you have had a letter, for he tells me
he is going to write to you. In mine he says it will be nearly
another year, he fears, before he is home. My letter is dated
September 15th. I can’t write about other things now. But I
know you will rejoice with us both in our happiness. With much
love to all,
“Believe me, dear Mrs. Hartland,
“Yours affectionately,
“GWEN ELEN THOMAS.”
At the end of November Messrs. Grenfell and Doke were on the point of
sailing for the Congo, and Miss Thomas records her regret that she was
unable to see them, but cherishes the hope of meeting them in Africa.
Grenfell she met, though under other conditions than those she had
forecast; but Doke had passed on. As the year waned her father’s illness
had caused her grave concern, but before it closed he was better. She
records also with pleasure that she is wearing the ring which Mrs.
Hartland had procured at her son’s desire.
The little spell of happy work and happy correspondence to which she had
looked forward was quickly troubled. Later deep called unto deep. In
January her father died, at the age of seventy-three, and her natural
sorrow was rendered more acute by the fact that he had been to her, as
to his other children, a friend as well as a father, who desired and
received not only their filial affection, but their understanding and
sympathy in the intellectual interests of his life.
Soon afterwards came news of the death of Mr. Doke, who had studied and
practised engineering, as well as theology, and had gone out to the
Congo with Grenfell, specially to superintend the reconstruction of the
steamer _Peace_. This sad event moved Miss Thomas deeply and touched her
happy dreams with a shadow of new anxiety. Three months later the shadow
suddenly blackened.
On June 19th Mr. Brock called to inform her that the Baptist Missionary
Committee had received a letter from Grenfell stating that John Hartland
was ailing, and that Grenfell hoped to send him home immediately, in
which case he might be expected at the end of the month. At first she
was naturally tempted to regard the news as good, giving promise of an
early meeting with the man she loved. But reflection quickly taught her
that Mr. Brock would not have been deputed by the Committee to bring her
happy tidings, and she prepared herself for the disclosure of the fact,
designedly withheld from her for the moment, that John Hartland’s illness
was very grave. For three weeks her heart was tense with anxiety, and she
wrote to Mrs. Hartland frequently, sometimes day by day, pouring out her
solicitude, her sympathy, the pain of her love and the comfort of her
faith.
On July 4th she wrote in a letter to Mrs. Hartland: “I heard from Mr.
Crudgington this morning, telling me of the answer he had received.
He seems to think it probable that our dear John will be on board the
English mail, as it is so late. But I am trying not to count upon it too
much.” This was written in the morning. In the afternoon the following
telegram was received at the Mission House:—
“Madeira, 1.55, July 4th. Received here 4.11 p.m.
“Baynes, Baptist Missionary Society, London.
“Hartland dead, dysentery. Break news gently.
“DIXON (Congo).”
In the evening Mr. Baynes broke the news to Mrs. Hartland, and his
colleague, the Rev. J. B. Myers, to Miss Thomas. Mr. Myers has given me
an account of the well-remembered interview. Upon receiving him Miss
Thomas took her seat upon a couch. When he had communicated his heavy
tidings her features became rigid, but she gave no other sign of emotion.
He spoke gently, and prayed with her, “Yet she neither moved nor wept,”
and when he left her she remained silent and still as one in a trance.
When the mail came it was pitiful to learn that the man she had loved
had been lying in his grave five weeks before the first intimation of
his illness had been received at home. Here I take leave to reproduce
the brief account of John Hartland’s death, given in “The Life of George
Grenfell”:—
“The timely arrival of Mr. Dixon at Underhill, and his willingness to
take charge while Grenfell got away, made the desired journey possible.
The ‘run-up-country’ was a figure of speech, for he was so weak that he
had to be carried in a hammock.
“Prior to starting he had written cheerily of his hope of soon meeting
his friend, John Hartland, who, while willing to stay, was to be
constrained to take furlough in July or August. This hope was fulfilled
earlier than he had forecast, but under conditions which made the
fulfilment a heart-breaking disappointment.
“At Manyanga, in the middle of April, Hartland found himself so weakened
by fever that he took boat and came down river to Bayneston, arriving
on April 21st. Hughes, who was in charge of the station at Bayneston,
overborne by the heavy nursing which Hartland’s serious condition
entailed, wrote to Butcher, who was at the camp on the Luvu River,
beseeching him to hurry on to Bayneston. With fever upon him, Butcher
started immediately, and by dint of hard walking arrived at Bayneston the
next day, having previously despatched a message to Grenfell, who had
left Underhill on the 27th. The message reached him on the second day of
his journey, and though ill himself, he pushed on with forced marches
arriving at Bayneston on May 1st. It was at once apparent to him that
Hartland, whom Hughes and Butcher had ‘carefully nursed through ten days
of the severest form of dysentery,’ was in a dangerous condition. But
abatement of the worst symptoms gave hope, which again was subdued to
fear.
“After further fluctuations, hope was abandoned on May 10th, and it was
Grenfell’s duty to inform his friend that his day’s work was done. ‘I
shan’t easily forget,’ he writes, ‘his look, as he gazed at us and said,
‘Well, I am not afraid to die. My trust is in Jesus. Whosoever believeth
in Him hath everlasting life!’ A little while later he said, ‘After four
years’ preparation, and just as I am about to enter upon mission work
proper, it seems strange for me to realise that my work is done: but He
knows best.’
“On the evening of the same day Comber arrived unexpectedly, and most
opportunely, for the affection of these two men for one another was
intense. They had worked together in the home country, they had shared
early perils, and were absolutely one in their devotion to Christ and
His work in Africa. Their intercourse during the two remaining days of
Hartland’s life was very tender and sacred, and the letter which Comber
wrote to Mrs. Hartland is one of the most beautiful and touching of all
our missionary records. It reveals how the dying man’s gaze was absorbed
by Christ; how he turned from dear thoughts of home and marriage and
happy work to the dearer thought of being with Him, and seeing Him as He
is. His last words, uttered at the final moment, were: ‘Christ is all in
all; Christ is all in all. Let me go, my friends. Don’t hold me back.
Let me go, Tom. I must go. I want to go to Him. “Simply to Thy cross I
cling.” Let me go.’ So he passed on.”
To this account I am now enabled to make a touching addition. On May 10th
Grenfell told Hartland that he was dying. After hearing the announcement,
and having the witness in himself that it was true, he indited four
letters, severally addressed to his father, his mother, his two sisters,
and Miss Thomas. The first three have been placed in my hands.
In the letter to his father Hartland explains that as the power of
writing has passed from him, his friend Butcher is taking down the words
at his dictation. The same notes of dignity, tenderness, and calm faith
are found in every one. Assured that only good can come of it, I venture
to print the tenderest of them all.
“BAYNESTON, CONGO RIVER.
“_May 10, 1883._
“MY DEAR MOTHER,—You will be sorry to know when you get this
letter that your missionary boy has passed away from the field
of active service to rest. My views of missionary life were not
that I should fall after four short years, but that I should
spend my whole life in Christ’s service. But He knows best. I
know you will not grieve to hear that He has delivered me from
a long and painful illness, and at last taken me to Himself.
But, oh! my dear mother, I am so sorry for you. Your heart will
break. Oh, may He be very near to you! You have been a dear,
good mother to me, and now in writing this brief farewell I
feel happy that it will not be so long before we meet again, in
His land, where sickness and dying are no more.
“Comfort poor, dear Gwennie; and while you live, be a mother
and a friend to her.
“Farewell,
“Your affectionate son,
“JOHN.”
Mrs. Hartland was faithful to the charge of her dying son. From that time
forth, as long as she lived, she was “a mother and a friend” to Miss
Thomas, and from that time forth Miss Thomas called her “mother.” What
wonder that she wrote to Miss Hartland while her grief was new, “I feel
so thankful ever to have had the love of such a brave, good, noble man?
Oh, Lily, what have I lost?” With wonted kindness Mrs. May granted Miss
Thomas leave of absence. Part of the resting-time was spent with Mrs.
Hartland and part with her cousin in Yorkshire.
At first, in the great weariness following suspense and shock, Miss
Thomas confessed more than once a yearning to follow her dear one into
the great rest. But her native strength of mind, and her loyalty to God
quickly conquered such weakness. Rather would she live to carry on his
work.
The following extracts from letters written while her great sorrow was
still fresh and keen, will give the reader some insight into the inner
life of a woman who was learning in the school of pain, those deeper
lessons of the faith, which may be learned by rote in other schools, but
not by heart, lessons which she never forgot, which contain the last
secret of her victorious life.
“August 21st. (To Mrs. Hartland.) But don’t think from this that I am
worrying or fretting; for I am not. God is with me, and I feel more
and more as the days go by that our darling’s prayers for me have been
wonderfully answered, that I am helped and comforted. And is it not an
honour and privilege ‘to know Him and the fellowship of His sufferings’?
He has always been with me in trouble and sorrow, but never so near as
in this the deepest of all. I hardly like to write thus, but I want you
to know, so that you may not be anxious about me. And as to my future, I
have left it with Him to do as He will with me, and I pray for grace to
be faithful in whatever work He calls me to.”
“August 28th. (To Miss Hartland.) To-day I have had a letter, a very
precious one, from Mr. Comber.... I think he is feeling his loss very
much, though he writes as brightly as he can.... Since I have been back
I have read through Farrar’s ‘Life of Christ,’ and it has helped me so
much. I think these sorrows must be sent to us to make us know that
‘Christ is all in all’; for gradually we come to learn that having Him we
can do without all else. And yet, how we long for human love! Nor do I
think it can be wrong to do so; for even Christ looked for human sympathy
in His sorrow. He could not find it. And, oh, how much we have had in
ours! I never so much realised before the oneness of the people of God;
so many kind letters from far and near, some even from unknown friends,
and yet so full of sympathy and prayer. I have thought of that verse so
often:—
“‘His way was much rougher and darker than mine;
Did Christ my Lord suffer, and shall I repine?’”
“Same date. (To Mrs. Hartland.) I am very thankful the way seems to be
opening. Of course I will go to India if it is thought best. But no one
knows how dear and sacred Africa is to me.... My only wish now is to
live as he lived, and when my work is done (if God wills) to die as he
died, for Christ and Africa. I do think of you so much, and could almost
envy you at times the sweet, pure memories of his boyish days. I do feel
it is an honour to have had the love (for so many years though I did not
know it) of such a noble, true, good man. And I am sure you, dear mother,
feel it a high privilege to have had such a son. It is a great comfort
to look back, and while we sorrow, to feel there is nothing to regret. A
pure, noble life, and a glorious death. I think of that text so often,
‘If ye loved Me, ye would rejoice because I go to My Father.’ Oh, how
happy he must be!”
* * * * *
As soon as she had recovered strength after the shock of her great
bereavement, Miss Thomas formed the determination to go to the
mission-field alone, and with little delay made application to the
Baptist Missionary Society. Her application was accepted in September.
At first there was thought of sending her to India, but finally, to
her great joy, it was decided that she should labour at the Cameroons,
travelling thither with Miss Comber, who had already spent one term of
service in the field which her brother had left for the Congo.
Uncertainty as to the time of her actual departure compelled her to
relinquish forthwith her engagement with Mrs. May, who was on the point
of going abroad for some months. But she was opportunely invited to
take another position, for the time being, which she rightly affirmed
that Providence had specially arranged for her. Her friend Mrs. Seymour
required the help of a lady in her home, and was willing to receive Miss
Thomas on terms which friendship dictated, and which friendship eagerly
accepted. She was to regard herself as a visitor, and feel perfectly free
to attend to her own affairs, and to depart whenever the call should come.
So Miss Thomas went from Hampstead to Highbury, where she passed the busy
months of waiting in an atmosphere of sympathy and friendship. After
some changes of arrangement it was ultimately fixed that she and Miss
Comber should sail from Liverpool on March 5th. On Monday, March 3rd, a
farewell meeting was held at Camden Road Church, and on behalf of the
Sunday School, Mr. Parkinson presented Miss Thomas with a harmoniphon.
She also received at the same meeting a medicine chest, the gift of Mr.
Baynes, whose absence in consequence of illness was much deplored. There
were some forty other presents privately given of which I have the list.
It included items of practical utility. Among them, five pounds’ worth
of spoons, forks, and table requisites, from “the Ladies’ Missionary
Working Party”; and (equally useful) from other friends, four five-pound
notes. Notable among the names of the donors are those of M. Gustave
Masson, French Master at Harrow, Miss Thomas’s uncle by marriage with her
mother’s sister; and the Rev. William Brock, minister of Heath Street,
Hampstead, whose church Miss Thomas had attended during her stay in
the district, and from whom she had received much of that discerning,
sympathetic kindness which still endears him to all who come within its
scope.
Miss Thomas spent the last fortnight with her friends, the Hartlands, at
34, Falkland Road, and on the morning of March 4th, she and Miss Comber
left St. Pancras after an enthusiastic valediction from a large group of
friends. They were accompanied to Liverpool by Mr. Percy Comber, Miss
Comber’s younger brother, and Miss Alice Hartland. Mrs. Fletcher of Edge
Lane, whose daughter was on the field at Cameroons, entertained them,
with warmest hospitality, and in the evening a drawing-room meeting was
held, at which the Rev. John Jenkyn Brown presided.
The next day shortly after noon they embarked in a tender, and proceeded
to board the ss. _Corisco_, which lay in the stream. Many friends elected
to say “goodbye” on board, and when the bell rang and the tender left,
two of them, Mr. Percy Comber and Miss Alice Hartland, remained as
stowaways, and secured the unchartered pleasure of a voyage with their
dear ones down the river and across the bar. But their deferred farewells
must needs be said at last. They also were put off in turn, and the two
young missionary women passed out to sea.