The Final Adversary (22 page)

“I’d like to hear it, sir,” Andy said eagerly. “Anything you can tell us that will be of help, we’ll appreciate it.”

“Myron—” Mrs. Hansen broke in tactfully. “Perhaps it would be best if we postpone any discussion of methods until our new friends have had time to settle in.”

Embarrassed, Reverend Hansen flushed slightly and laughed. “You are right, as usual, my dear!” Smiling at his guests, he said, “It would be especially inappropriate for me to discuss the matter with you until Reverend Beecham returns. He and I have been carrying on a friendly ‘war’ about methods for some time. And since you are here under his authority, we’ll wait until you are better able to make decisions.”

“As you say, sir,” Andy agreed. “But we are certainly in your debt for the hospitality you’ve given us. I think we’d still be sitting in that station soaking wet if you hadn’t rescued us.”

“It’s good to have you here,” Dorothy smiled. “You don’t know now, but you soon will, how wonderful it is to have someone from home to talk with. I warn you, I intend to question you to death!”

“Oh, there’ll be lots of time for fellowship,” Hansen beamed. “But I intend to put you all to work.”

“That’s great!” Andy cried.

“Tomorrow we’ll give you a tour of the city and show you what we’re doing. There are meetings every day, so you’ll be preaching often. We also have schools and a hospital of sorts; if you are interested, you can be of great help. At night, you can start learning the language. And if that doesn’t keep you busy, I’ll take you hunting in the bush. That’s my hobby, you see.”

Barney glanced at the heads mounted on the wall. “Those are fine trophies, but we want to work. That’s why we came. Would it be possible to go out into the villages?”

“Certainly! Nothing could be easier, could it, my dear?” he said, turning to his wife.

“I’ll have to watch my husband,” Mrs. Hansen said. “He’ll have you worked to the ground before Reverend Beecham gets back.”

True to her prediction, the next week was so busy that the
young people were exhausted. They had done everything Reverend Hansen had said, and more. On Sunday Andy preached in the morning to a huge crowd at the church, and was thrilled at the response. That night, Gardner spoke with even greater results.

Dorothy sat in front with her mother during both services. After Andy’s message, she said, “You’re a wonderful preacher, Mr. Winslow. My father will probably be very jealous and refuse to let you do it again.”

“Not true at all, Miss Hansen!” Andy protested. “This is a wonderful church, and the work here is splendid! You must be very proud of your father.”

“I am, but we sometimes disagree.”

What an attractive woman,
he thought, then brought his mind back to the present. “Disagree how?”

“I’m afraid you’ll dislike me if I tell you.”

“No chance of that, I’m sure!”

“You promise?” She gave him a captivating smile. “I must confess I’m
very
ambitious. I want to see the work grow fast, but my father is rather slow.”

“I’m afraid you and I are much alike,” Andy grinned. “Your father will watch me like a hawk if he finds out we’re both too impulsive.”

“We won’t tell him then. It’ll be our secret.”

“It’s not very nice,” Andy said, a humorous light in his eyes. “Here I am abusing the hospitality of my host!”

“It’s for his own good, and he’ll love it when it happens.”

“Exactly what sort of attack are you launching, Miss Hansen?”

“Call me Dorothy,” she smiled. “Nothing very original. You’ve seen the work in Monrovia? My father has the right idea, but your Reverend Beecham doesn’t agree.”

“Beecham? What’s wrong with his ideas?”

“You’ll soon find out, I’m afraid,” she said. “Reverend Beecham doesn’t think missionary work done outside the
deep bush is worth much. As a matter of fact, he’s not certain that my family and I are really missionaries at all.”

“That’s ridiculous! The work in this city is splendid!”

Dorothy smiled, her brown eyes wide with admiration. “I’m glad
you
think so, for
he
doesn’t. That’s what my father wanted to tell you the first night you all came to dinner. The two almost came to blows about it—father wanting to center the work in the cities and large villages and Reverend Beecham demanding that we all go to the interior.”

Andy had guessed some of this, but he hadn’t known the two men were so deeply divided. He shook his head. “We came under Beecham’s invitation, so we’ll have to wait until he comes. But I agree with you and your father, more or less.”

“I knew you would!” Dorothy exclaimed. “I know Reverend Beecham will want you all to go to the interior, but I was hoping you could persuade him to let some of your people stay here. There’s
so
much to do!”

“I’ll see what I can do, Dorothy.” His eyes lit up and he added, “I came to Africa to do my best for God. I want to serve Him as well as I can!”

“You’re the leader,” she said. “They’ll do what you say.”

“Not Barney or Gardner!” he laughed. “Those two are stubborn as mules!”

He was right—and discovered just how stubborn three days later. Stanley Beecham returned early in the morning, and after greeting them, said, “Well, vacation’s over. I expect Brother Hansen’s shown you the easy side of Africa. Now I’m going to show you the other side. Be ready to leave in an hour—and wear your roughest clothes!”

They all scrambled to get ready and were waiting in the compound when he appeared, seated on a large wagon pulled by four oxen. “Ladies in, gentlemen walk,” he said with a smile. The women got into the wagon, and the driver called to the oxen and touched them with a long thin cane pole. They lurched forward, and soon were at the outskirts of Monrovia. The road turned into a narrow mud path, and after
being jolted severely, Katie jumped to the ground, saying, “I’d rather walk.”

They followed the narrow road for two hours, and then Beecham called for a rest. “Get out and walk around, but watch out for snakes.”

Petrified, Lily Ranken clutched Slim’s arm. “I’d die if I even
saw
one!”

“No, you won’t die from
seeing
one,” Beecham said cheerfully. “Most of them are harmless. But if it’s an extremely long bright green snake, don’t argue, just run.”

“What sort of a snake is it?” Slim asked.

“It’s a green mamba, but the natives call it a ‘five-stepper’ because if one of them bites you, you have about five steps to get help. After that, it’s too late.”

“I got bit by a rattler once,” Del Saunders said. “He was a big one, too. But I didn’t die.”

“The rattler’s poison works on the blood,” Beecham explained. “The mamba’s venom works on the nerves. It paralyzes a man so he can’t breathe.”

The warning was taken seriously, and they kept their eyes peeled to the ground, but no snakes were seen. The walking just about did them in, though. The long voyage and the ministry under Hansen had sapped their strength, and it was necessary to call a halt several times before they reached their destination.

“Here come your hosts,” Beecham called out. “We’ll be dining with them tonight. Before they get here, let me warn you, it’s important that you eat what they set before you. I’ve brought along some very pungent hot sauce. If the food looks suspicious, I just douse it until all I can taste is the fire of the sauce.”

Like all the others, Katie eagerly waited for the natives to come. “These people are from the Pahn tribe,” Beecham explained as four men appeared. Katie gasped. Except for a small loin cloth made from bark, the natives were naked. She had known that this was common in Africa, but the stark
reality of their nakedness struck her with the realization she was now, indeed, in an alien world. She noted that Lily Ranken had the same reaction, but Pearl and Irene seemed undaunted.

Reverend Beecham extended his hand palm up as he spoke to the men. One of them, with short legs and a face marked with tribal scars, responded.

“This is Chief Mawali,” Beecham said.

Chief Mawali made a speech, which Beecham interpreted as a welcome. Then he and his headmen turned and led the missionaries to the village.

None of the fledgling missionaries ever forgot their introduction to that tiny African village. Katie had seen pictures of African chieftains, but they were of the Zulu and Masai tribes, big noble-looking men.

The village was far worse than any of them had imagined!

As soon as they were about fifty yards from the scraggly thatched huts, which composed the village, the stench assaulted their nostrils like a hammer. The smell of woodsmoke and sweating bodies mingled in one nauseating fetid malodor. The putrid smell of ulcerated bodies and human waste formed a miasma that caused the blood to drain from several faces.

At first Katie thought she would pass out. She tried holding her breath, but that lasted only so long. As they entered the village, they formed two lines. Some of the women, she saw, were dressed in even less than the men.

Chief Mawali led them to an open spot, evidently the place where meetings were held, and then began another long speech. As he spoke, with Beecham interpreting, Katie discovered that little by little she was becoming immune to the stench.
I suppose if you live with it long enough, you don’t even notice it,
she thought.

Chief Mawali finished his speech, and Beecham said, “It’s time for the service.”

There was no instrument, no trained musicians, but there was plenty of rhythm and enthusiasm in the congregation.
Katie and the others thought they recognized several of the songs, but weren’t sure because of the heavy African flavor.

The song service went on for at least an hour. “Time may mean something to you,” Beecham had warned them, “but it doesn’t to the Pahn people. They don’t have watches, and they don’t have anything else to do. I’ve seen them sing for as long as four hours at a stretch.”

Perhaps he took pity on the visitors, whose legs were beginning to tremble, for after an hour Beecham said something to the chief, then turned to Barney. “All right, brother, preach!”

Barney stared at him, not believing what he had heard! “But—I don’t have a sermon!”

Beecham’s blue eyes glinted with humor. “You just tell them about Jesus. I’ll supply any necessary homiletics and theology.”

Hesitantly Barney stepped forward and pulled his Bible out. He managed to preach for ten minutes, with long pauses after sentences so Beecham could translate. Barney made up his mind right then that he’d learn the language or die!

Finally he stopped, and all the people shouted.

“What did they say?” Barney asked nervously.

“They want more preaching. They say you are a good preacher.”

Barney shook his head. “I don’t believe that!”

“Well, I took out all the things that would offend and put in what made them happy. But you did fine, my boy!”

After the meeting they partook of the meal, an event the missionaries approached with some trepidation as they sat down with the chief and a few of the men. According to custom, the women were not invited to eat with the men.

As the food was served on wooden slabs, Beecham tried to create a climate of trust. “You’ll like this—it’s fried banana.”

Various provisions were passed around, which Beecham would identify—except one. They all watched as he liberally sprinkled that item with the hot sauce he carried, then passed it to the missionaries.

The others were reluctant to eat the food, but Awful said, “Well, the Lord says in His book, if you eat any deadly thing, it won’t harm you—so here goes!” He took a bite, chewed it, and said, “Not too bad. I’ve eaten worse in some dives in New York City.”

The rest of them managed to eat a few bites, which brought Beecham’s approval: “Good show!”

When they finished the meal, they said their goodbyes to the people. The Pahns crowded around, some of them reaching out to touch the visitors. A young woman, about sixteen, reached out timidly to touch Katie’s blond hair, then drew back.

“How do you say ‘sister’ in Pahn?” Katie asked Beecham.

He told her, and she smiled at the girl and put her hand out, saying, “Cetay.”

The maiden’s face lit up in a smile and she took Katie’s hand, repeating “Cetay! Cetay!” many times.

When they arrived at their wagon again for the long trip home, Barney said to Katie, “That was fine, the way you called her ‘sister.’ ”

“You did well too, Barney, but I feel so helpless.”

“I know what you mean, Katie.” He smiled at her, noting the lines of fatigue around her eyes. “But we’re in Africa, and that’s what counts.”

“Yes, that’s what counts,” she smiled. “But I wonder what it was we ate.”

“I don’t want to know!” he laughed. “Though I guess we’d better have a big supply of Beecham’s hot sauce before we leave for the interior. I’ve got a gut feeling we’re going to see more of their ‘delicacies’!”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The Company Decides

“Do you know the most difficult problem missionaries encounter in Africa?”

Stanley Beecham was looking out the window of his hotel room, idly watching the flow of black humanity below on the sun-dried walkways. Along with Andy, Barney and Gardner, he had just returned from the government office, where he had filled out more papers—an endless task, it seemed.

“I suppose disease,” Andy replied. He was sitting on the Englishman’s bed looking at a map of the country.

“Or maybe the wild animals,” Barney added.

“Neither.” Beecham turned and regarded the three men seriously. “The most crucial problem missionaries face is . . . other missionaries.”

“Oh, come now, Beecham!” Andy protested. “I can’t believe that!”

“I can,” Awful Gardner said. “And I think we’ve already seen a bit of it.”

A fleeting smile touched Beecham’s lips. He was somewhat reserved, a manner from his younger years as a British officer. But beneath his stolid exterior was a streak of passion he could not always conceal—like now.

“Blast it all!” he burst out angrily. “I wish you’d never
heard
of Reverend Myron Hansen!”