The Black-Bearded Barbarian by Mary Esther Miller MacGregor (latest books to read .TXT) 📕

house when not away on duty. The doctor’s face was full of sympathy and his own heart weighed down as he sadly answered, “No.”

“If I only had some ice,” he muttered, knowing well he had none.

“If there was only one bit of ice in Tamsui, I’d save him yet.”

Over in the British consulate Dr. Johnsen had another patient.

Mr. Dodd lay sick there, though not nearly as ill as the missionary, and the physician’s next visit was to him. When he entered he found a servant carrying a tray with some ice on it to the sick room.

“Ice!” cried the doctor, overjoyed. “Where did it come from?”

The servant explained that the steamship Hailoong had just arrived in Tamsui harbor with it that morning. The doctor entered Mr. Dodd’s room. Would he give him that ice to save Mackay’s life? was the question he asked. To save such a life as Mackay’s!

That was an absurd question, Mr. Dodd declared, and he immediately ordered that every bit of ice he had should be sent at once to the missionary’s house.

The doctor hurried back up the hill with the precious remedy. He broke up a piece and laid it like a little cushion on poor Kai Bok-su’s hot forehead; that forehead beneath which the busy brain, resting neither day nor night, was burning up. It had not been there a great while before the restless eyes lost their fire, the eyelids drooped and, wonderful sight, Kai Bok-su sank into a sleep! The doctor hardly dared to breathe. If he could only be kept asleep now, he had a chance. Dr. Mackay had never been a sleeper, he well knew. He was too restless, too energetic, to allow himself even proper rest. When Dr. Fraser, his first assistant, had been with him, he had struggled to persuade him to stay in bed at least six hours every night, but not always with success. But now he was to show what he could do in the matter of sleeping. All that night he lay, breathing peacefully, the next day he slept on from morning till night, and little by little the ice melted away on his forehead. He did not move all the next night, and A Hoa and Mrs. Mackay and the doctor took turns at his bedside watching that the precious ice was always there. Morning came and it was all finished. The patient opened his eyes. He had slept thirty-six hours, and a thrill of joy went through every Christian heart in Tamsui, for their Kai Bok-su was saved!

But though the crisis was over, he was still very weak, and such was the state of affairs through the country that he was in no condition to cope with them. Riot and plunder was the order of the day. News of churches being destroyed, of faithful Christians being tortured or put to death, were still coming to the mission house, and no one could tell what day would bring Kai Bok-su’s turn.

And now came an order from the British consul which the missionaries could not disobey. He commanded that their families must be moved at once from Formosa, as he could not answer for their protection. So at once preparations for their departure were made, and Mr. Jamieson took his wife and Mrs. Mackay and her three little ones and sailed away for Hongkong.

But once more Kai Bok-su stayed behind. It cost him bitter pain to part with his loved ones, knowing he might never see them again; he was weak and spent with fever, and his poor body was worn to a shadow, but he stubbornly refused to leave the men who had stood by him in every danger. The consul commanded, the doctor pleaded, but no, Kai Bok-su would not go. If the danger had grown greater, then all the more reason why he should stay and comfort his people. And if God were pleased to send death, then they would all die together.

But he was so weak and sick that the doctor feared that if he remained there would be little chance for the mob to kill him: death would come sooner. So he came to his stubborn patient with a new proposition. The Fukien, a merchant steamship, was now lying in Tamsui harbor. She was to run to Hongkong and back directly. If Mackay would only take that trip, his physician urged, the sea air would make him new again, and he would return in a short time and be ready to take up his work once more.

It was that promise that moved Mackay’s resolution. His utter weakness held him down from work, and he longed with all his soul to go out through the country to help the poor, suffering churches. So he finally consented to take the short journey and pay a visit to his dear ones in Hongkong.

He did not get back quite as soon as he intended, for the French blockade delayed his vessel. But at last he stepped out upon the Tamsui dock into a crowd of preachers, students, and converts who were weeping for joy about him and exclaiming over his improved looks.

The voyage had certainly done wonders for him, and at once he declared he must take a trip into the country and visit those who were left of the churches.

It was a desperate undertaking, for French soldiers were now scattered through the country, guarding the larger towns and cities and everywhere mobs of furious Chinese were ready to torture or kill every foreigner. But it would take even greater difficulties than these to stop Kai Bok-su, and he began at once to lay plans for going on a tour.

He first went to the British consul and came back in high spirits with a folded paper in his hand. He spread it out on the library table before A Hoa and Sun-a, who were to go with him, and this is what it said:

British Consulate, Tamsui,

May 27th, 1885.

To THE OFFICER IN CHIEF COMMAND OF THE FRENCH FORCES AT KELUNG: The bearer of this paper, the Rev. George Leslie Mackay, D.D., a British subject, missionary in Formosa, wishes to enter Kelung, to visit his chapel and his house there, and to proceed through Kelung to Kap-tsu-lan on the east coast of Formosa to visit his converts there. Wherefore I, the undersigned, consul for Great Britain at Tamsui, do beg the officer in chief command of the French forces in Kelung to grant the said George Leslie Mackay entry into, and a free and safe passage through, Kelung. He will be accompanied by two Chinese followers, belonging to his mission, named, respectively, Giam Chheng Hoa, and Iap Sun.

A. FRATER, Her Britannic Majesty’s Consul at Tamsui.

They had all the power of the British Empire behind them so long as they held that paper. Then they hired a burden-bearer to carry their food, and Mackay cut a bamboo pole, fully twenty feet long, and on it tied the British flag. With this floating over them, the little army marched through the rice-fields down to Kelung.

It was an adventurous journey. But, wonderful though it seemed, they came through it safely. Poor Kai Bok-su’s heart was torn as he saw the ravages the mob had made on his churches. But what a cheer his heart received when he found that persecution had strengthened the converts that were left and everywhere the heathen marveled that men should die for the faith the barbarian missionary had taught. They were taken prisoners once for German spies, and led far out of their way. But they came back to Tamsui safely, having greatly cheered the faithful Christians who still were true to their Master, Jesus Christ. It was early in June, just one year from the opening of the war, that the French sailed away. They were disgusted with the whole affair, the commander of one vessel told Dr. Mackay, and they were all very glad it was over.

Mr. and Mrs. Jamieson and Dr. Mackay’s family returned to their homes on the bluff, and work started up again with its old vigor.

But everywhere the heathen were in great glee. Christianity had been destroyed with the chapels, they were sure. Wherever Mackay went, shouts of derision followed him, and everywhere he could hear the joyful cry “Long-tsong bo-khi!” which meant “The mission is wiped out!”

But strange though it may seem, the mission had never been stronger, and it soon began to assert itself. Dr. Mackay went at the work of repairing the lost buildings with all the force of his nature. First, he and Mr. Jamieson and A Hoa sat down and prepared a statement of their losses. This they sent to the commander-in-chief of the Chinese forces, who had been responsible for law and order. Without any delay or questioning of the missionaries’ rights, the general sent Dr. Mackay the sum asked for—ten thousand Mexican dollars.*

*About $5000.

The next thing was to plan the new chapels and see to the building of them. And before the shouts of “Long-tsong bo-khi”

had well started, they began to be contradicted by walls of brick or stone that rose up strong and sure to show that the mission had not been wiped out. Three of the chapels were commenced all at once—at Sintiam, at Bang-kah and at Sek-khau. Before anything was done Dr. Mackay and a party of his students went up to Sintiam to look over the site. They stood up on the pile of ruins, surrounded by the Christians, and a crowd of heathen came around gleefully to watch them in the hopes of seeing their despair.

But to their amazement the little company of Christians led by the wonderful Kai Bok-su, suddenly burst into a hymn of praise to God who had brought them safely through all their troubles: Bless, O my soul, the Lord thy God, And not forgetful be

Of all his gracious benefits

He hath bestowed on thee!

The heathen listened in wonder to the words of praise where they had expected lamentation, and they asked each other what was this strange power that made men so strong and brave.

And their amazement grew as the chapels, the lovely new chapels of stone or brick, began to rise from the ruins of the old ones.

And not only did the old ones reappear, new and more beautiful, but as Dr. Mackay and his native preachers went here and there over the country others peeped forth like the hepaticas of springtime, until there were not only the forty original chapels, but in a few years the number had increased to sixty.

The triumphant shout that the mission had been wiped out ceased completely, and the people declared that they had been fools to try to destroy the chapels, for the result had been only bigger and better ones.

“Look now,” said one old heathen, pointing a withered finger to the handsome spire of the Bang-kah chapel, that lifted itself toward the sky, “Look now, the chapel towers above our temple. It is larger than the one we destroyed.”

His neighbors crowding about him and gazing up with superstitious awe at the spire, agreed.

“If we touch this one he will build another and a bigger one,”

remarked another man.

“We cannot stop the barbarian missionary,” said the old heathen with an air of conviction.

“No, no one can stop the great Kai Bok-su,” they finally agreed, and so they left off all opposition in despair.

Yes, the cry of “Long-tsong bo-khi” had died, and the answer to it was inscribed on the front of the splendid chapels that sprang up all over north Formosa. For, just above the main entrance to each, worked out in stucco plaster, was a picture of the burning bush, and around it in Chinese the grand old motto: