The Final Adversary (21 page)

As Captain Seale left, Sipes murmured, “Now he’s preachin’ at me! Wasn’t enough that the rest of ’em were at me; now I’ll get it from my own captain. Might as well give up and become a bloomin’ Christian and be done with it!”

****

“Katie! Come up on deck. We’re here!”

Katie leaped off her bunk and joined the others who had heard Irene’s cry. They elbowed their way, falling over one another as they excitedly scrambled up the ladder to the deck.

A stiff wind was scouring the sea, lifting the waves into whitecaps. The blazing sun on the ocean so blinded Katie that she stumbled to the rail. “Where? Where is it?” she asked, blinking against the midday light.

“Over there, see?”

Shading her eyes, she was just able to make out a low-lying shadow, merely a smudge on the distant horizon. The jubilation they all felt at arriving at their destination can be experienced only by those who have left all to follow a dream—and then to see it just ahead, to be tasted, to be tested, to be fulfilled. None could envisage the heartache, the agony, the frustration, the questions that would assault them. For now it was enough to know they had reached Liberia.

“I wonder when we’ll get off the ship?” Slim Ranken voiced. “We’d better go start packing.”

But there was no hurry, for by the time the ship dropped anchor, it was almost dark. Captain Seale announced at supper, “Well, this is almost our last meal together. You’ll disembark early in the morning.”

“What’s the date?” Tobe asked.

“February the second,” Captain Seale supplied. “We’ve made fair time.” Then he added, “It’s been a voyage none of the crew will ever forget.” He had been faithful to his conversion, encouraging the men to attend services, and had plunged into a study of the Bible that was an example to those who had become Christians.

That night a rough tropical storm caught up with them, and when they gathered on deck after breakfast, the sky was black, and a driving rain was falling. “The ship can’t enter the harbor in this weather,” Captain Seale told them. “You can either wait until it clears, or we can put you ashore in surfboats.”

“Oh, let’s go now!” Andy said, and the others agreed. One of the
Caledonia
crewmen rowed to shore, and after a while a boat flying the Liberian flag pulled alongside. Two Liberian officials for customs and immigration climbed the
rope ladder to the deck. After considerable red tape, the missionaries were all cleared for landing.

The rain was still falling and the waves were breaking against the ship.

“Be a bit wet. Better wait until tomorrow,” First Officer Sipes suggested.

But Andy wouldn’t hear of it. “If we can’t stand a little wet, how can we think of going where the going is really rough?” he said.

“Very well,” Sipes nodded. “We’ll have to use mammy chairs.”

Mammy chairs
proved to be a square box with board seats facing each other. The captain assisted Katie into the chair, and as he stepped back, he said quietly to her alone, “I’ll pray for you, Katie. And I’ll always be grateful for your kindness.”

Katie smiled. “I’m so thankful I had the opportunity to become acquainted with you and to see what the Lord has done in your life. Write me about your daughter, will you?”

Then the chair was hoisted into the air by the ship’s crane and swung over the side. The wind tossed it back and forth as it descended, striking the waiting surfboat repeatedly before steadying.

It was a tricky matter getting out of the mammy chair into the rocky surfboat, but Katie held on to her suitcase and made a jump. She fell headlong, dropping her bag and sprawling on top of two of the black oarsmen. They picked her up as though it were a routine occurrence and seated her securely.

“You be okay, Mammy. Bestman not let you fall!” one of the men assured her, his white teeth gleaming against his ebony skin.

It was Katie’s first contact with one of the people she’d seen in her dreams. The raised tribal markings across the cheeks of the tall well-built man lifted as he spoke, and his smile and genuine air of open honesty put her at ease immediately.

“Thank you, Bestman,” Katie said. “My name is Sullivan.”

“Yes, Mammy,” he grinned, then turned to catch Lily
Ranken as she came tumbling into the boat, screaming with fear.

They were all finally aboard, and the commander of the small craft cried,
Kwiali! Kwiali!
All the rowers bent to their oars, moving in perfect harmony as they guided the surfboat toward the shore. When they were almost at the dock, Katie turned and looked at the S.S.
Caledonia.

“Makes you a little sad to leave it, doesn’t it, Katie?”

She turned to see Barney close to her. “Yes, in a way.”

“Well,” he smiled, “you got your first fruit as a missionary. Captain Seale, I mean.”

Katie nodded, then turned her eyes to the shore. “It’s going to be hard isn’t it, Barney?”

He nodded slowly. The rain gathered on his face and ran down in streams. “Yes, but the Lord promised to be with us always. That’s what we need to remember and remind each other when it gets hard.”

The boat had now reached the dock, and Bestman helped Katie out of the unsteady craft, saying, “Be watchful, Mammy!”

“Thank you, Bestman,” she said, smiling, then stepped out on the continent of Africa.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Services

Stanley Beecham was not at the dock as expected when the missionaries landed. This initial introduction to a strange land left the group feeling perplexed as they waited at the offices of the steamship line. Shortly, however, a short rotund man wearing a raincoat and hat breezed in. “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “I’m Myron Hansen. Reverend Beecham told me to be on the lookout for you. Welcome to Monrovia!”

“Will Reverend Beecham be along soon?” Andy asked.

“No. He had to make a trip into the back country,” Hansen replied. “But we’ve arranged places for your stay at our mission station. Let’s be on our way; then when we get settled, we’ll get on with the introductions.”

He led the group to the two carriages, where a couple of dark-skinned drivers loaded the luggage as the newcomers climbed in. Andy jumped into the carriage with Reverend Hansen, hoping to ask questions, but the man gave him no opportunity.

“I’m the director of Monrovia City Mission,” he said. “My family and I have been here only six years, and I’m happy to report that the work is thriving! You’ll soon have a chance to see for yourselves.”

He kept up a rapid-fire commentary on the sights they passed, the current events of the country, the condition of politics, and a great many other subjects until an hour later they passed through two large gates of the mission.

“Ah, here we are!” Hansen announced. “Let me show you
to your quarters, and when you’re settled, perhaps you’ll join my family for lunch?”

“Of course, sir,” Andy smiled.

“This is our dormitory,” the portly missionary explained as they entered the mud construction, “but the Bible school isn’t in session now.” He assigned the rooms, saying, “If you need anything, one of the servants will be nearby, so you have only to ask. We’ll expect you about eleven-thirty.”

As the director hurried off, Andy inspected the room he and Barney would share. The walls were plastered on the inside and painted white. The accommodations seemed more than adequate, the furniture handmade, apparently of local material. As the men checked further they discovered a shower house two doors down, which could be approached through a canopy of palm leaves.

“This is pretty nice, Barney,” Andy commented as they returned to their room and began to strip off their soaked clothing. “Beecham mentioned there was a large work in Monrovia, but I wasn’t expecting the red-carpet treatment.”

Barney nodded. “Good thing Reverend Hansen showed up. I haven’t the foggiest idea of what to do next.”

“Beecham said in his last letter that we’d work that out when we got here,” Andy explained.

“I can hardly wait.”

Down the hall the rest of the Company were getting settled in their quarters—Katie and Irene in one room, and the others in various accommodations.

“Better enjoy that shower,” Katie said to Irene as they showered and changed to dry clothing. “It may be the last one we have.”

“Sure is great after the trip over. Wonder if the rest are settled in.” Irene finished dressing and opened the door. “Oh,” she said, surprised to see a black girl nearby, “were you waiting for something?”

“No, ma’am. I am to help you. Is there anything you need?”

“Could we have some fresh water?” Irene requested, and
when the girl left, Irene turned to Katie. “Servants and all. I didn’t know missionaries in Africa had it so good.”

“I think this must be unusual,” Katie said thoughtfully. “From what little we heard from Reverend Beecham, it’s pretty rough once you get away from the larger cities and into the bush.”

The Company was ready long before lunch and talked constantly, relieved to be away from the confines of the ship. Finally Andy said, “Well, I think we might as well go for our lunch.” He asked one of the servants for directions to the dining area and was told, “I will take you.”

He led them across an open compound to a large two-story structure built of stone. He pulled a rope hanging beside the door, setting off a bell inside the house. Immediately the door opened and Reverend Hansen greeted them. “Come in! Come in! We’ve been waiting for you!”

They were escorted to a huge room, furnished much like an American home, with beams across the ceiling and mounted heads of antelope, kudu, black leopard, and a nubian lion on the walls.

Standing next to a slim fair-haired attractive woman, Mr. Hansen said, “Let me introduce you to my wife, Emily, and my daughter, Dorothy.” The daughter, about twenty-three, was the image of her mother. She acknowledged the introduction and then quietly studied the group.

“Suppose you introduce your fellow missionaries, Mr. Winslow?”

After the formalities were completed, Reverend Hansen said, “Now I propose we move to the dining room.”

They were seated at a large table made out of a single slab of dark wood. Del Saunders and the two married couples sat at Hansen’s left, with Barney, Irene, Gardner and Dorothy Hansen facing them, and Mrs. Hansen at the other end.

A silver tureen graced the center of the table, with matching bowls in front of each guest. “Suppose we have the blessing now,” Reverend Hansen suggested, “so the soup won’t get
cold.” He stood to his feet, and the others followed suit. The blessing was long and eloquent.
The soup could be frozen by the time he’s finished prayin’,
Awful thought, shuffling his feet. “Blimey!” he said later to Barney, “I thought he’d never get the bloomin’ prayer out of the way!”

“I think you’ll like this soup,” Hansen said as the white-coated male servants began filling the bowls. “It is sea turtle, fresh from the ocean just yesterday. And our cook is superb!”

After the monotonous shipboard diet, the missionaries found the soup and the food that followed delicious. They had a taste of native African game, including antelope steaks and a sampling of elephant meat—”just for the experience,” Mr. Hansen smiled.

Despite his rather affected ways, Reverend Hansen was sharp and intelligent; and before the meal was half finished, he had learned all their names. As the meal progressed, he drew from his guests much of their life circumstances. Slim Ranken’s expertise as a mechanic seemed to please Hansen, and Katie’s role as a former entertainer in a saloon fascinated him, but shocked his wife and interested his daughter.

Katie caught Barney’s eye and realized he, too, wondered what kind of man Reverend Hansen was.

Mrs. Hansen said little, but Dorothy perked up at the mention of Barney’s exploits as a boxer. “Were you the champion?” she asked.

“Bless you, no, Miss Hansen!” Barney smiled. “Just run of the mill.”

Andy, however, launched into the account of Sipes and Barney’s match. He told it well, making it a humorous affair.

“I know the man!” Reverend Hansen exclaimed. “He was locked up for drunkenness two years ago.”

“But it turned out well,” Awful interjected. “The whole bloomin’ crew was comin’ to services after that, and the officers, too.”

“Not Captain Seale?” Mrs. Hansen asked.

“Oh, that’s the best of it all!” Gardner grinned. “Our little
evangelist, Miss Sullivan, the one who’s blushin’ like a rose right now, why, she won the captain’s heart—to the Lord, that is!”

“That’s extraordinary!” Hansen replied, his eyes wide. “His ship stops here on every voyage, and he’s been our guest many times. Such a fine fellow—but not religious.”

“Well, he is now!” Del Saunders laughed. “He’s even handing out Bibles to his crew!”

“I’m impressed,” Mrs. Hansen murmured, staring at Katie. “We’ve witnessed to Captain Seale, but he’s always been so reserved.”

“I suspect it was his concern for his daughter that broke him down,” Katie offered.

“What’s wrong with his daughter?” Dorothy asked.

“I don’t really know the circumstances,” Katie replied. “He was worried about her, and I suggested that if he knew the Lord, he’d be able to help her more.”

Hansen nodded with satisfaction, saying heartily, “Now
that’s
the way to deal with people! Use your head a little bit, find out what’s going on inside; then you can get them where you want them!”

His view on evangelism bothered both Katie and Barney, but only Winslow spoke up. “That would be pretty hard to do with the natives in the bush, wouldn’t it, Reverend Hansen?”

Mr. Hansen took a sip of coffee, thought about the question, then nodded. “You have a point, Barney—may we use first names? Ah, thank you. Well, we come to a matter that is a little touchy in missionary circles.”

“Touchy? In what way, sir?” Andy asked.

“The point is, we have a certain amount of money, a certain amount of time and manpower—and woman power, to be sure! But I have felt that we are to some extent wasting much of those items. Or to put it more charitably, I feel that I have found a more efficient way to invest them.”