VOYAGE TO THE CAMEROONS, AND A SURFEIT OF ADVENTURES. 1884
The trials of the missionary life commenced early for Miss Thomas.
During the voyage to Madeira the weather was exceptionally bad, and she
and Miss Comber endured the horrors of sea-sickness for a week. Happily
their sorrows were mitigated by invincible good spirits. They “were
very jolly all the time,” made jokes of their own miseries, and when
the doctor enquired with traditional sympathy whether they yearned to
be flung overboard, his obliging suggestion was repelled with scorn.
The ship carried no stewardess, and at first they found it embarrassing
to be waited upon by a man. But “any port in a storm,” and any help in
the sickness which the storm produces! The steward was a nice kindly
person, and they soon became used to his presence and grateful for his
attendance. During the days of wild buffeting by wind and wave, the
harbour of Madeira was looked forward to with strong desire, and it was
a doleful hour in which the Captain expressed his fear that the badness
of the weather would preclude his touching at the Island. That fear was
discredited by the event; the weather moderated, and upon sighting land
the sufferers were able to appear on deck.
They both found much comfort in the presence of a third lady, Mrs.
Buckenham, who was going out to her husband, a Primitive Methodist
missionary stationed at Fernando Po. The Captain’s marked kindness was
an additional comfort, and indeed the source of very many. His cabin on
deck had been annexed by certain gentlemen as a smoking saloon, but upon
the appearance of the missionary ladies, the smokers suffered summary
eviction, and the cabin was placed at their service. On the morning of
March 12th they steamed round Madeira and made the harbour in perfect
weather, which permitted them to take unchecked delight in the lovely
scenery. The Captain saw them ashore, secured for them a spacious,
private, detached apartment at the hotel where he himself put up, and in
the afternoon Miss Thomas sat down to write a merry letter to her “dear
Mother,” Mrs. Hartland.
As she writes her attention is confessedly distracted by the dazzling
charms of the flower-garden she looks out upon, and the more sober, but
more enthralling charms of the tea-table, which is being spread. Her week
of sea-sickness is pleaded as an excuse for gloating over mere victuals,
the validity of which plea the humane reader will immediately allow.
Referring to the troubles passed, she writes gaily: “And we had many a
laugh at our own expense. To see the boxes and chairs executing a jig in
the middle of the room, and then to hear the fearful crashes of crockery
in the pantry next our cabin, ourselves making frantic efforts to get
from one side of the room to the other, and ending by being landed on the
floor in an elegant sitting posture, or coming up with a spin against the
door—all this was very diverting.”
As the _Corisco_ was timed to sail at nine o’clock the next morning, Miss
Thomas and her friends had little opportunity of making acquaintance with
Funchal. Yet, in the limited time at their disposal they moved about
briskly, with eyes wide open, and acquired many vivid impressions of the
natural beauties of the place and the non-English social novelties which
appealed to them in the shops and in the streets.
From Madeira to Sierra Leone the voyage was pleasant as a picnic. Miss
Thomas and Miss Comber were much in favour with their fellow-passengers,
and the Captain made them his peculiar care. He was an English sailor of
the best type, and though he had no special reverence for their mission,
he unfeignedly admired their British pluck, in which they were at least
his peers. Sometimes he told them dismal, tragical tales of Africa,
with the purpose of testing their mettle, and when he found that they
refused to be dismayed, he assured them they were just the kind of folk
to do well on the West Coast, where courage and good spirits are the
best defence against the hostilities of the deadly climate. One day he
came upon them at afternoon tea, winked at their illicit spirit-stove,
and craved to be allowed to join them. Thereafter, at this little
function, he was their daily guest. He told them “wonderful stories of
his wife, of whom he was very proud,” made his black boy “Dollar” their
servant, and taught his retriever dog to amuse them and attend them. His
apology for his rather more than conventional kindness was ingenious
and conclusive. “At Liverpool the ‘Sky-pilot’ (Rev. John Jenkyn Brown)
specially charged me to take good care of both of you, and I am going to
fulfil my commission faithfully.” His protégées so far imbued him with
the missionary spirit that he promised to give a concert at Bonny in aid
of the work. The promise may have been kept, but the fulfilment of it is
not recorded.
On March 19th the _Corisco_ was “off Sierra Leone.” Nine days later she
lay outside the bar at the mouth of Benin River. The Captain and some of
his passengers had business up the river, and took the three missionary
ladies with them. They were deposited in the launch by means of the crane
and the chair, an experience which they found amusing, the time of their
departure from the ship being 9 a.m. At the Bar the sea was rough to the
point of ugliness, and the Captain regretted that he had brought the
ladies; but there was no mishap, and very soon the voyagers, whose pulses
had been quickened by the passage of the Bar, were enjoying the quiet
waters of the mile-wide river, with its banks “dotted here and there by
little towns.” Miss Thomas shall tell in her own words the rest of the
story of her Benin expedition:—
“As we stopped at the various traders’ wharves while the Captain and some
of the gentlemen went ashore, the people came crowding down to look at
us, as only two white ladies had passed up the river before, and that
many years ago. Our eyes were the great attraction, which all happened to
be light. One woman was very proud because she could manage to say, ‘How
do, Mammy?’
“We went on to see a Mr. Henderson whose house is built on an island. He
is a very good man, and a total abstainer, so we determined to lunch with
him. Upon arrival we knocked and made a great noise before we could get
any answer. At last a man came, and most politely taking off his hat,
inquired, ‘You live, Mammy?’ To which we responded, ‘Yes, we live. You
live?’ Finally he brought a key and we went into the courtyard where we
met Mr. Henderson whose astonishment was complete. He said that when he
was told three white ladies had come, he surmised that the sailors of a
ship in the river were having fun with him, and would not come down. We
had a very nice lunch, and some delicious tea for which Mr. Henderson is
noted. Among other presents he gave us a tin full of it. We commenced
our return at 3.30 and had a very rough passage. Our little boat was
tossed on the waves, and the spray kept breaking over us. Darkness fell,
a tornado followed in our track, and the lightning was most splendid. We
sat, well covered up, singing Sankey’s hymns. It was a fine experience,
and happily we reached the ship just before the rain fell.”
On Sunday, March 30th, the _Corisco_ reached Bonny, and on the morrow the
mail steamer _Senegal_ arrived bringing two passengers whose presence
was cordially welcomed; Mr. Buckenham, who had come so far to meet his
wife, and Mr. Liley, of the Livingstone Inland Mission from the Congo.
But the pleasure of meeting Mr. Liley was shadowed by the heavy news
he bore. From him Miss Thomas received part of that terrible budget of
evil tidings which greeted George Grenfell at Stanley Pool, when he
returned from his boat journey to the equator on March 4th. She learned
that Mr. Hartley, the new missionary, and the two engineers sent out to
reconstruct the _Peace_, had all died on their journey up-country, and
that the work on the Congo, passing dear to her, was gravely disorganised
by the sickness of several workers. Moreover, a letter from Miss Saker
announced that Mr. Lewis had broken down and gone south, Miss Fletcher
was ailing, while the writer herself was in such poor case that she would
be compelled to start for a trip to Gaboon immediately upon the arrival
of Miss Thomas. This would necessitate that Miss Comber should come to
Bethel Station, Cameroons, to remain with Miss Thomas during Miss Saker’s
absence, instead of commencing her work forthwith at Victoria.
The young missionaries were delayed several days at Bonny, made a visit
to Opobo, and called upon King Ja-Ja, whose hospitality they enjoyed, not
without effort. The palm oil “chop” was an ordeal. The King himself was
a nice man and friendly, but his house was frightfully dirty and wore
the aspect of a curiosity shop, promiscuously furnished with odds and
ends presented him by the traders. Miss Thomas and the other ladies were
permitted to visit his wives, concerning which visit she significantly
remarks: “It was awful.” The bright side of a depressing experience was
the King’s earnestly expressed desire that a white missionary should come
to reside in his town, and she had some hope that Mr. Buckenham’s society
might be able to meet his wish.
Before leaving Bonny Miss Thomas and Miss Comber said “goodbye” to the
_Corisco_ and its genial captain, and were transhipped to the _Loanda_. A
few days later they arrived at Victoria, and the elements accorded them a
boisterous welcome, as the following extract from the _Missionary Herald_
will make apparent:—
“On April 4th Miss Comber and Miss Gwen Thomas safely reached Victoria.
Miss Comber writes: ‘When we reached Victoria, Mrs. Thomson came on the
vessel to meet us, and when all was ready we started for the shore in two
boats—our mission boat, and the ship’s boat—Mrs. Quintin Thomson, the
doctor and the purser of the ship, going in the mission boat, while Miss
Thomas and I went with the Captain in the ship’s boat. When we were near
the shore a very large wave came suddenly, and before the Kroo-boys had
time to pull away from it, it broke over us and turned the boat right
over, and we directly found ourselves in the water. Fortunately the other
boat was not far off, and very quickly came back for us and picked us
up before we had been in the water many minutes. The children were all
on the beach waiting to welcome us with singing, but when they saw Miss
Thomas carried to the house (she had lost her shoes) and me walking up
drenched with water, they said they were “not fit to sing.” Happily we
are none the worse for our wetting. This happened on Saturday. On Sunday
night we had the heaviest tornado I have ever known. Our people say there
has not been so strong a one for twenty-three years. Unfortunately it did
a good deal of damage to Brook Mount, taking down the front piazza and a
good deal of the roof. It happened just as we were going to bed, and a
second time we got a wetting; so we had rather a rough welcome to Africa.’
“From Bethel Miss Thomas adds: ‘The country is all so beautiful, and the
climate so delightful, that it is hard to understand it is so unhealthy.
I am very anxious to get on with the Dualla language, as I see it will
be very necessary here. We had a most delightful day yesterday (Sunday).
Miss Saker is away, just now, having gone South for her health. But we
were just in time to see her before she left, and Miss Comber is with me
now. I am so glad and thankful to be at last really engaged in mission
work in Africa. We have six children in the house now, and there are
several more wanting to come.’”
Miss Thomas was an excellent correspondent from the beginning of her
missionary life, but not many of her earliest African letters are
available, and the reader must be content with fragmentary notes of the
beginnings of her work. The passage quoted above was written on or about
April 16th, and on that date, in a letter to Miss Alice Hartland, she
states that she is very well, and has not had a single headache since
leaving England. The rains are just commencing. She has had a walk
through the town with Mr. Silvey, and is impressed by the size of it. In
the absence of King Aqua she has been granted the honour of an interview
with his chief wife. She has also paid a visit to the week-old baby of
Dubundu, the native pastor. The lady was almost as bare of clothing as
the baby. The one struck her as “horrid-looking,” the other as “funny.”
Definite arrangements as regards her particular work are postponed,
pending the return of Miss Saker, who is expected home in ten days. A
present is enclosed for “Mother’s” birthday.
On April 21st Miss Thomas reports receiving the sad news of the death
of Mr. Johnstone, a Christian trader, residing at Bonny, who had shown
much kindness to her and her friends during their stay at that port.
Assured of his sympathy, they had been able to speak to him with grateful
freedom of their ideals and their work. He had traded on the coast for
fifteen years, was due home in two months, but was suddenly stricken down
with erysipelas and died. The kind heart of the writer is heavy with
the thought of the desolation which the news will bear to his wife and
children in England. Flags are flying half-mast in the river. An English
sailor lies dead, who leaves a wife and nine children in England. The
Mission people are sending a wreath for his burial.
May 12th was the anniversary of John Hartland’s death, and Miss Thomas
wrote to his mother assured that both would be “thinking of the dear one
who, this day last year, went home to God.” Sad news has come from the
Congo, including a report of the very serious illness of Thomas Comber.
During Miss Saker’s continued absence Miss Comber is to remain with Miss
Thomas, much to her joy, as they are like-minded. But the tidings of her
brother’s illness, and the necessity of a flying visit to Victoria, have
prostrated Miss Comber with fever, through which she is affectionately
nursed by her friend. Mr. Lewis has come over from Victoria, and Miss
Thomas finds him “nice,” and “a thorough Welshman.” He had lent her a
book on Wales, which interests her much. But the only time for a good
read is the time of recovering from fever. The Sunday services are mostly
in Dualla, and although they include a short address in English, it is
framed with a view to local capacities and requirements, and her soul
longs for a Sunday at Camden Road with Mr. Tucker, to whom she sends her
love.
Miss Alice Hartland had helped Miss Thomas with some of her packing, and
on May 17th the results were reported. A good many things had come to
grief. A number of books needed to have their covers washed and to be
laid in the sun to dry—a statement which the book-lover will read with
shuddering. But the worst misfortune was not to be laid to the charge of
the amateur packers. The Kroo-boys who carried the cases must needs drop
something, and with fine discrimination they chose a case containing a
bath filled with crockery. The smash was effective, and the details may
be left to imagination.
In this letter Miss Thomas reports her continued good health, but
complains of bad nights as her worst trouble. “The Kroo-boys on the beach
strike every hour by banging something which sounds like a tin tray. The
natives are constantly beating their tomtoms, which sets our dog ‘Fidele’
barking. Then the goats begin to bleat, and the little dogs in the yard
to howl, so that between them all it is horrible. As this happens almost
every night, and storms are frequent, a good night is consequently a rare
blessing.”
Miss Saker and Mr. Lewis are expected from Victoria, their boat is in the
river. Sunday was enjoyed. Miss Thomas took the two senior boys’ classes,
and hopes that a senior boys’ class will be allotted to her. “They
understand English properly and are very intelligent.”
A month later she refers to a letter which has told of her first attack
of fever and how wonderfully she had got over it. Her friends think she
will not have it so badly again. Her fevers are likely to be “strong,”
but it is believed she can bear them better than most people, so anxiety
about her is to be dismissed.
Miss Fletcher, of Victoria, is returning home broken down. The sorrow
of her friends is forecast and deplored, and Miss Comber’s ensuing
loneliness at Victoria occasions solicitude. In this letter, dated June
17th, and addressed to Mrs. Hartland, Miss Thomas pleads for more Camden
Road news and adds, touchingly: “When I was ill, and my head was so bad
that I could get no sleep, I kept fancying if I could only hear Mr.
Tucker read something it would send me to sleep. Of course it was only
fancy, but it was the one thing I seemed to long for.” In consequence
of the fever her hair has been cut quite short like a boy’s. She cares
nothing for the look of it, and it will be much better in case of the
recurrence of fever.
On July 11th Miss Thomas was at Victoria whither she had been hastily
summoned to attend Miss Comber who was down with fever and dysentery.
Pending Miss Thomas’s arrival Mr. Lewis had acted as doctor and nurse,
and his gentleness and skill were gratefully appreciated by his patient
and by her nurse, when she came. The other missionaries at Victoria, Mr.
Hay and Mr. Pinnock, were also full of kindness and concern. Referring to
her call from Bethel Station, Miss Thomas says:—
“This is how the work is interrupted here. I will try to give you an idea
of it from this week’s experience. Miss Saker and I had just been making
new arrangements for the management of our school, and had planned out
our daily work afresh. On Monday morning we had told the girls of our new
arrangements. We had also set apart a time every day in which Mr. Silvey
and I were to read Dualla with Miss Saker. She had not been well enough
for this previously. Well, on Monday evening, Mr. Silvey came running
in with Mr. Burnley bringing letters from Mr. Lewis requesting me to
come at once. First, they had to knock up some men and go to Dr. Allen’s
ship to learn his opinion of the treatment adopted. It was half-past one
a.m. when they returned. Meanwhile I got my things ready and at 6 a.m.
started. The travelling is bad in the rainy season....
“I think you may like to know something about the journey between
Cameroons and Victoria. First we are carried by Kroo-boys into the boat,
which is a six-oared lifeboat with an awning over one end. Then our
course lies down the river for about twenty miles. After that we cross
a stretch of sea, and then turn into creeks, which run between mangrove
swamps. This time, about eleven o’clock, the boat was pulled up to the
bank, and tied fast to a tree. Then we all had ‘chop.’ ... The Kroo-boys
eat theirs at the other end of the boat. After rather a rough passage
we reached Bimbia about 8 p.m. The sea was too rough to go further that
night. I never saw anything more beautiful than the scene as I lay in
the boat in Bimbia Bay. The water there was comparatively calm, while
outside one could see the raging breakers. The sky was clear overhead,
the moon shining brilliantly upon the little town, which consists of
a few native houses, surrounded by loveliest trees. There is only one
white man’s house, that of the German Agent, at which I was forced to
stay the night. He was very kind, got me supper, made up a bed for me,
and provided a black girl to sleep with me and to wait upon me. The next
morning we started at sunrise, and arrived here (Victoria) at half-past
eight. Mr. Lewis, Mr. Hay and John Pinnock were on the beach waiting for
me. Mr. Lewis has just come in to say the mail is leaving to-night, so I
must not write more. Miss Comber has made good progress. She is sitting
up in her room, and with assistance walked twice round the sitting-room
to-day. I think she will do well now, with care; but she will need to
go for a trip South before resuming her work. Mr. Hay and John Pinnock
are both down with fever, and very ill, especially the former. Mr. Lewis
is staying with both and nursing both. I do trust they will get over it
well. I am very anxious about Mr. Hay. There is a man-of-war at anchor
here now. Mr. Lewis and I went on board yesterday for a change. That was
before John Pinnock fell ill. The doctor came ashore and saw the two
patients, but he is evidently not very reliable. We think he had been
drinking. Mr. Lewis is becoming quite a doctor now. I cannot write more.”
As Mr. Lewis, whose name has been mentioned two or three times, is
destined to take a very prominent place in this life-story, it is fitting
that at least a few words of formal introduction should be accorded
to him; and if they are but few, the reader must know that my hand is
restrained by his express desire.
Thomas Lewis was born at Whitland, Carmarthenshire, in 1859. He was a
Welsh-speaking Welshman, and his early Christian work was done in the
vernacular. He can still preach in Welsh upon occasion, though he has
lost some of his former fluency. But when he preaches in English his
accent and his lilt bewray him. In the order of Providence he learned
to work in wood and iron before he studied theology, and his skill as a
handicraftsman has been scarcely less useful to him in his African career
than his book-learning. After an honourable course at Haverfordwest
College he was accepted by the B.M.S. for service in Africa, and was
sent to the Cameroons in 1883. When Mr. Lewis first met Miss Thomas he
was engaged to Miss Phillips of Haverfordwest, and how he was happily
married and swiftly bereaved will be told in the next chapter.
[Illustration:
MR. GEORGE THOMAS. MRS. THOMAS.
MISS THOMAS (At the age of 17). REV. THOMAS LEWIS.
(Photo by Mr. Wickens, Bangor.)]
On August 5th Miss Thomas writes of “our troubles” which came in
sequence to the anxious stay at Victoria. She herself has been down with
fever, has made a good recovery, but has been “silly enough” to sprain
her ankle. Yet on the whole she is in good form, and is pronounced
“wonderful” by the local doctor. But Miss Saker’s continued and alarming
illness will necessitate her return home. Her things are packed, they
are awaiting the arrival of the mail, and Miss Thomas is to accompany
her part way. Miss Thomas continues: “It is now a month since I went to
Victoria to nurse Miss Comber, and I have been nursing ever since with an
interval of five days for my own fever.” The news from Victoria is bad.
Miss Comber is very unwell; Mr. Hay is very ill; and the work is at a
standstill.
The mail steamer _Bonny_ arrived on August 19th under the command
of Captain Dyson, who had shown Miss Thomas and Miss Comber so much
kindness on their voyage out from Liverpool. Captain Dyson was amazed
and delighted to find his young friend looking so well—better than when
she left England, though perceptibly thinner. Mr. and Mrs. Buckenham
were with Captain Dyson, and they all spent a day at the Mission. Miss
Saker was placed in the Captain’s boat, in a bed, and carried aboard the
_Bonny_, and the homeward voyage was commenced.
While at sea Miss Thomas herself fell ill, and was constrained to go
much further than she intended, even to Madeira. Misadventures retard
her return, and on October 29th she is still at sea, and dates from the
“ss. _Congo_, between Akassa and Bonny.” Her letter will return from
the Cameroons by the mail ship on which she writes. She is quite a good
sailor now; never feels sick, and can take her constitutional, however
badly the ship may be rolling. But her mind is gravely exercised by
grievous thoughts of the long interruption of her work, and the heavy
expense to the Society, which this voyage entails. She is dreading to
hear from the Mission House lest the official letter may convey rebuke,
and Mr. Baynes may be vexed by action on her part which may seem to be
ill advised. A vain fear, at the recollection of which she would smile in
later years, when she came to know how warm was Mr. Baynes’s friendship
for her, and how from earliest days his insight into character had taught
him to place implicit reliance upon her good feeling and her good sense.
Meanwhile she adds grimly: “I’ll never come bringing invalids home
again”—the mere voice of a mood which sympathy will know how to interpret.
While writing this letter her thoughts turn to Christmas. At the great
anniversary seasons, friends far sundered, meet in spirit, and she will
think much of dear ones at home; though on Christmas day she will be very
busy, as the school treat at Bethel will then take place. Little did
Miss Thomas realise when she wrote this down, how strange would be the
conditions in which that treat would be held, and how little of outward
peace the birthday of the Prince of Peace would bring to the Cameroons.
The German annexation had been negotiated without the consent of certain
local rulers who were concerned, and this fact bred discontent which
ultimately fomented insurrection and internecine hostilities between the
chiefs who were aggrieved. For an account of the general aspect of the
German troubles the reader is referred to Note A at the end of the book.
The volcanic upheaval came at the close of the year, and the following
graphic letter gives the personal experiences of Miss Thomas, and affords
an early disclosure of the heroic material of which she was made:—
“BETHEL STATION,
“_December 16, 1884._
“MY DEAREST MOTHER,—I am afraid you will get short letters from
me this time. The mail is due in two days, I have not a line
written yet, and I am so busy this week. I had a most pleasant
time at Victoria, and when Mr. Comber went [who had called at
Victoria on his way home from Congo], Mr. Lewis came to fetch
me back. By the by, he told me some time ago to give his kind
regards to you and to say that he had heard much about you, and
hoped some day to make your acquaintance. The little steamer
did not come, so I was forced to return in the boat. The voyage
was rather long, but we arrived none the worse for it. The
fact was I slept nearly all the way. We were very naughty at
Victoria and used to stay up very late talking. Not having seen
one another for so long, we had heaps to say. I left Carrie
well, and also John Pinnock.
“The river here is in a most unsettled state. There is fighting
all round us, but it has not come to our town yet. It is all in
consequence of the German occupation, and the Germans encourage
it. To-day Bell Town has been burnt down. I am now expecting
Mr. Lewis to tea, so shall hear all about it. Two men were put
to death there this morning, and one at Hickory yesterday.
Jibarri was burnt down on Monday. The native teacher has fled,
and the place is deserted. Firing is constantly going on, and
war canoes are passing up and down the river. Do not be alarmed
for me. We are quite safe, and the trouble has not affected our
people yet.
“It seems so strange to think that Christmas is so near, I
can hardly believe it. We are having fine hot weather, though
the rains have not entirely ceased. Our school examinations
are in course this week, and on Thursday we hold a public
examination in the chapel. I must tell you about it next time.
Our treat is fixed for Friday, and other treats are to be held
at other stations during next week. Of course it entails work
in looking out prizes, presents, &c., and on Friday Mr. Lewis
is going to show the magic lantern. The children have come
out pretty well in the examinations. Of course the subjects
are elementary: writing, reading, spelling, dictation, sums,
tables, needlework, and recitation of hymns.
“December 22, 1884. Since writing the foregoing so much has
happened that will be interesting to all my friends that I beg
you to let Mr. Tucker see this letter, and any others who may
desire, for I cannot write a second, I have so much to tell.
I have already told you of the unsettled state of the river.
On Friday last (this is Monday) we heard that there were two
German warships at the Bar, and on Saturday morning two small
steamers came up the river towing boatloads of soldiers.
Without giving any notice, they steamed up to Hickory Town,
firing at every canoe on their way, landed men at Hickory, who
set fire to the town while their comrades kept up a fusillade
from the boats. Epea was down here and afraid to return. But
his wife and children were at Hickory, so Mr. Silvey went up
with him immediately, and sent Mrs. Epea and the children down
to us, remaining himself with Epea. He found that Mr. Schmidt
(of the German House) had saved our Mission House, but the
chapel and schoolroom were burnt to the ground. (By this time
the house is burnt also. The people have all fled to the bush,
and the town is destroyed.) When Mr. Silvey returned he brought
with him about fifty people, whom we managed to sleep as best
we could, some in our house and some in the school-house. In
the meantime the Germans steamed down the river and attacked
Joss Town, which adjoins Bell Town. There they met with most
determined resistance, and at first were driven back, forty-one
of their soldiers being killed. The Joss people also went to
Schmidt’s beach, dragged out Mr. Hammer (the clerk in charge)
took him into the bush and killed him. The fighting went on
for hours. Mr. Lewis could not leave, having no boat; and he
and his two boys had to turn up the table and lie behind it,
as the bullets were flying through the house; one passed close
to his ear. He did not reach us until 5 p.m., when the tide
went down, and he could walk along the beach, having had a very
narrow escape. Of course all this time I was alone here and
very anxious about Mr. Silvey and Mr. Lewis. At the first sound
of firing the people came rushing to the Mission House being
terribly frightened, as both the towns involved in the trouble
are so close that we could see them burning. The firing was
going on all around, and a gunboat was passing up and down in
front of this town, firing on the beach. One of the white men
was wounded, and had to be carried to Buchan’s ship. Of course
we did not know what was going to happen next. The house was
crowded with people, and I did my best to quiet them, but with
no great success.
“Yesterday we were hoping for a quiet day. We held a
prayer-meeting in the morning instead of the service, and had
Sunday School as usual. But shortly after our return home,
the Mission premises were surrounded by hundreds of German
soldiers who commenced searching for Hickory and Joss people.
Our houses were full of people, but they were not those whom
the Germans wanted. Yet they persisted in believing that we
were hiding their enemies. They searched every nook and corner
of Mr. Silvey’s house, and of mine, walking about with loaded
revolvers in their hands, with which they threatened Mr.
Silvey and Mr. Lewis. They were a little more polite to me. My
house was full of women and children, who were so frightened
that they begged me not to leave them even to go into the next
room. The Germans then compelled Mr. Lewis to go with them to
Bell Town that they might search the house there, which is
completely ruined, all his work there having gone for nothing.
Bethel Station only is left now, there being neither buildings
nor people at the others. Yesterday the Germans sent round a
proclamation saying that any persons who directly or indirectly
help the disaffected people will be treated as enemies and
banished. This morning one of the warships came up the river
and threw shells into Hickory, completing the ruin. It does
seem dreadful that all this cruel work should be done by
people calling themselves Christians. You may imagine that it
has been, and is, a very anxious time for us all. But we have
great cause for thankfulness, as we are all well. I am only
afraid this news will reach you before our letters and cause
anxiety on our behalf. What will be the result to the Mission
we cannot tell. We hear that the Basle Mission are coming. (It
is the best Mission on the coast.) In that case I suppose our
Mission will give up the work. It does seem a pity. But it will
require a large staff to do any good, so much building will be
necessary. I am especially sorry about Hickory. It was such
a nice little station, and had the best of our chapels. How
strange that these things should be permitted. But the work is
God’s, and we must leave it in His hands. The worst thing about
the Germans is their manner of treating the people. Morgan,
the pilot, is one of our best men, a very superior person.
They put a rope round his neck, and told him they would hang
him if he did not bring the man-of-war properly up the river.
The people are full of comparisons between the English and the
Germans, but little complimentary to the latter.
“Now I will turn to a more pleasant subject. Last Thursday we
held a public examination of our schools in the chapel, and
invited parents and friends. The children behaved nicely, sang,
recited, and were examined in tables and spelling. Mr. Lewis
presided and gave the prizes, which consisted of work-boxes,
desks, books, shirts, &c. Then on Friday we held our treat,
and had a fine time. My arms are still stiff from the effects
of it. We began, in the morning, to cut up the pork, which I
had cooked the previous day. It took me and two of my boys
more than an hour to do this, and it was hot work. Meanwhile
two of the women were cooking the rice in the yard, while Mrs.
Williams made the fish soup in her house. The soup and the rice
were then put into baths and carried into the chapel. When
all was ready, and two tables covered with toys for ‘dashes,’
the children were let in. Each brought a plate or something
equivalent (in many instances a wash-basin or old vegetable
dish). Some brought spoons, but the majority were content with
their fingers. Mr. Lewis, Mr. Silvey and I did ‘the helping,’
while some of the women and big boys ‘waited.’ You should have
heard the noise! When they had eaten as much as they could,
each one received a toy, and they were sent out to play.
Meanwhile we cleared up the fragments and came home to rest
and have dinner. After dinner we went out to join their games,
and were soon hard at work. The play included races, racing in
sacks, blind-man’s-buff, round the mulberry bush, orange and
lemons, &c. You may imagine that it was rather hot work. Then
about five o’clock we set them scrambling for sweets and nuts,
and having given to each one a packet of sweets, we came in to
our tea. After tea, as soon as it was dark, the magic-lantern
sheet was put up, outside the big house, and Mr. Lewis showed
the pictures to a very large audience. Indeed, most of the
townspeople turned out. They behaved very well, and thoroughly
enjoyed the exhibition. When the pictures were finished we
sang, “I think when I read that sweet story of old,” which
was thrown upon the screen, and so brought to an end a very
pleasant, though very tiring day. Everything went off well, and
those concerned departed having thoroughly enjoyed themselves.
Of course all the other treats are stopped by this horrid
fighting; but I am glad we held ours when we did.
“_December 24th._
“I have written the latter part of this letter separately, so
that you may lend it. Mr. Lewis and Mr. Silvey are writing
to Mr. Baynes so that he will know all about the trouble. I
should be glad if you could copy my account and send it to Mrs.
Seymour.
“A little branch steamer has just come up the river, and will
take letters early to-morrow morning. The _Benguela_ came to
the Bar a few days ago, but could not get up river on account
of the fighting. I am so disappointed at getting no Christmas
letters, and so are we all. We hear that the English Consul
and a British man-of-war are coming to-morrow. The pilot has
gone down to bring her up. I hope the Germans will have to pay
for what they have done. Our people are all in panic, and are
running away as fast as they can, some to Victoria and others
to the bush. Half the town is deserted.
“I shall be thinking of you all to-morrow. Of course Mr.
Silvey, Mr. Lewis, and I are going to spend the day together.
We have had a goat killed, and I shall have one of Morton’s
puddings. I would have made one but we cannot get suet, and
eggs are very scarce just now. If all is well, we shall have a
merry evening with our house-children. But I expect there will
be great excitement as soon as the Consul comes, so I cannot
really tell what we shall do. You must please give my love to
my sister, and to any kind friends who may ask after me. I am
sure they will excuse my not writing when they hear the cause.
“Yesterday we went to Bell Town. It is a complete ruin, and not
a person was to be seen. Hickory is even worse, I believe, if
that be possible. Well, I must finish now as it is bedtime. And
with very much love to all,
“I am,
“Yours lovingly,
“GWEN.”
“PS.—I forgot to say that I am quite well; never felt better in
my life. If you should see Miss Saker, please tell her all, as
I cannot write to her now. I do not understand not hearing from
any of you by this mail. I only had two letters, one from Miss
Saker, and one from Miss Phillips. I did want some Christmas
letters. I suppose I shall not get them now for another month,
and we are all in the same box.
“I am sure if any of you want adventures, you had better come
to Africa. I have had enough in eight months to last for some
time.”