Hudson taylor, god’s venturer

Chapter 10

With his long blue gown, cloth slippers, and a clean shaven head from the crown of which dangled a long pigtail, he looked as much like a Chinese man as a fair-skinned, blue-eyed Yorkwhire youth could possibly expect to look. Months ago he had taken the step of dressing exactly as the Chinese did. He had called down a good deal of criticism from fellow-Europeans, but he was able to mingle much more freely with the Chinese themselves, and had traveled extensively in places where most Europeans would have been mobbed. This was the first time he had ever had to sleep out of doors. Things seemed to have been going wrong lately. First there was the fire which had destroyed all his medicines—a serious loss, for they would be very expensive to replace. Then, the disappearance of his servant and all his luggage two days ago, leaving him stranded with nothing but the clothes he was wearing. Now, there was the crowning misfortune of being unable to find a lodging. Well, when day broke he would have some breakfast, make a final search for the missing servant and luggage, and then return to Shanghai. It would be futile to attempt to reach Ningpo, where the Parkers were now living, with the small amount of money left in his possession. He pressed his face into his hard pillow, sighed sleepily, closed his eyes.

Suddenly he was wide awake, his body tense but motionless. What was that moving in darkness? A dim figure was coming stealthily across the wide steps toward him, and Hudson, still lying as though asleep, discerned the ragged form of a beggar. The man crept silently to the missionary, and stood looking down at him. Hudson did not move, and after a minute or two, evidently assured that he was asleep, the beggar bent down and began gently feeling him.

“What do you want?”

Hudson spoke quietly enough, but there was an ominous ring in his voice! The beggar was taken by surprise. The man lying there wasn’t asleep after all—indeed, he sounded very much awake, as though he were prepared to take immediate action! The beggar beat a hasty retreat.

Hudson decided his money should be in a safer place than under his sleeping head, so having put some of it in an inner pocket, and the rest up his sleeve, settled down again. He was just dozing off when some instinct once more aroused him. He was conscious of movements in the darkness, the dim outlines of silent figures approaching. The beggar had retuned with a companion or two! Hudson lay motionless until he felt a hand moving behind his head, feeling for the bag of cash.

“What are you doing?” demanded Hudson.

“Spending the night here outside the temple—like you,” came the reply.

“Then kindly go over to the other side, and leave me here,” said Hudson. “There is plenty of room for you there.”

The men made no reply to his suggestion, but did not move. Hudson therefore, sat up. It was useless lying there, where he might drop off to sleep. He would certainly be robbed of all he had left unless he kept his wits about him.

“You’d better lie down and sleep,” said one of the beggars, disarmingly, “or else you’ll not be able to work tomorrow. Don’t be afraid,” he continued reassuringly, “we shall not leave you. We’ll see no one does you any harm!”

“You listen to me,” said Hudson stoutly. “I don’t want your protection. I don’t need it. I am not a Chinese, and I don’t worship your idols. I worship God. He is my Father, and I trust in Him. He will protect me. I know what you are, and what you intend doing. I tell you, I shall not go to sleep. I intend keeping my eye on you.”
The beggars did not move, and neither did Hudson. Sitting with his back to the wall, trying not to nod off to sleep, the hours passed slowly. Every now and then he made a remark, partly to make the men realize he was still awake, and partly to help himself to remain so! Eventually he hit on the idea of keeping himself awake by singing, and when he got tired of that, repeated passages of Scripture aloud, and then prayed. These devotions did much to cheer him, while having the reverse effect upon the beggars who grumbled to each other, urged him to be quiet, and finally departed. Just before dawn, seeing they had disappeared down the narrow street, Hudson relaxed, and even slept for a little while.

“Foxes have holes, the birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man hath not where to lay his head.” The words had a new meaning for him that day, as he trudged along the track between endless rice-fields on his way to the place where he hoped to get on a boat going to Shanghai. His Master knew what it was to be despised and rejected, as he had been the previous day when searching in vain for a lodging. His Master knew what it was to suffer the cold and discomfort of sleeping out of doors, and to be dogged by unscrupulous men. How insignificant seemed his own sufferings and humiliations compared with all that Jesus Christ, the Lord of Glory had endured for him! How little it mattered if he had lost all his belongings, as certainly appeared to be the case! The souls of these Chinese people were of infinitely more value than his cherished earthly possessions. Why had he worried so much about them, and cared so little about the souls of these poor, ignorant, sinning people? “Oh, Lord,” he prayed as he walked along, “forgive me for all my shortcomings. Help me to do only Thy will, help me to follow in Thy footsteps...” Nothing else mattered much, but to follow in those footsteps, and to become more like his Master.

That night he was invited by friendly boat-people to sleep on board with them, and glad indeed he was to do so. It was cold without his bedding, but it was a relief to lie down without fear of being robbed. He got up the next morning with a sore throat but a light heart, for all anxiety about his losses was gone. After all, God was well able to restore them to him if that would be for the best, and if not, then he did not want them!
Now all that remained was to find a boat going to Shanghai, and return there forthwith. He would search for his servant and his luggage no more. He set out on the long walk to the town where he hoped to find a boat, and after paying for the breakast he had in a little wayside inn, he found he had only enough to pay his fare and provide him with food for the three or four days it would take to reach Shanghai. Now to find a boat to take him there as soon as possible!

But there was no boat going to Shanghai. There was not even one going as far as Ka-shing Fu, he was told. Hudson tramped from boat office to river bank, inquiring of any likely individual whether he knew of a boat going in the direction of Shanghai—all in vain. The boats were grounded in the dry river bed, and until rain came and the waters rose, there they must remain. It might be weeks before they could move—and he had only money enough to last about five days! Hope seemed well-nigh gone when suddenly he espied a mail boat, small than the heavy cargo junks that lined the river bank, making its way along the narrow stream that still flowed in the middle of the bed. It was going in the direction of Ka-shing Fu!

“No!” was the reply.

“Are you going in that direction?”

“No!”

Hudson stopped dead, watching the boat go on. This was the last straw! He felt sick, and a wave of coldness seemed to sweep over him.

“Better sit down,” he thought, and sank down on the grassy river-bank, suddenly faint. Then everything went blank.

How long he lay like that he did not know. Gradually he returned to consciousness, and as he did so he heard the sound of voices. They came from the other side of the canal, and as he came to himself he realized they were talking about him.

“He speaks pure Shanghai dialect,” someone said—in pure Shanghai dialect! They evidently took him for a native of their own city. The next thing he knew a small boat was coming across the water to fetch him, and he was invited to come on board.

The kindly junked-people heard his story sympathetically. His servant had disappeared with his luggage, he himself had been searching for two days, and now he had only sufficient money to take him back to Shanghai—and there was no boat! They looked pitifully at the weary Westerner who was dressed as they were, and spoke their language like a native. And when, after he had drunk some tea, they gave him warm water to wash his feet, it was with little exclamations of surprise that they saw how blistered they were. But his troubles were at an end. The captain of the junk gave him food, then found a boat going to Shanghai and offered to pay the fare himself, if necessary. The tide of misfortune had turned at last.

On his arrival back in Shanghai Hudson set on foot inquiries about the servant who had disappeared with his luggage. Had the man met with difficulties himself—been arrested, perhaps by some unsympathetic official who did not approve of Chinese who worked for Westerners? Or had he just made off with the stuff himself? It was long before it became apparent that the latter was the case, and Hudson was strongly advised to have the law on him! Such a man ought to be punished, he was told, and Hudson agreed in theory. However, there was another point to be considered. He had many times preached to his servants of the love of God, of the forgiveness which the Lord Jesus Christ showed even to those who nailed Him to the cross. Here was his opportunity to demonstrate that spirit of forgiveness, by returning good for evil. Instead of putting the case into the hands of a Chinese mandarin, therefore, he wrote his servant a letter, pointing out the wrong he had done, and urging him to change his ways. How much more important it was, thought Hudson, that the man’s conscience should be touched, that he should turn to God and his soul be saved from Hell, than that he should get back his baggage! If only this act of forgiveness would have that effect on the man, how willingly would Hudson be deprived of twice the amount he had lost—if he had twice the amount which, in point of fact, he had not! Having dispatched the letter, he set about selling what sticks of furniture still remained to him in order to make up as best he could the indispensable possessions he had lost, before setting out once more for Ningpo.

Just as he was preparing to leave, news came that a mailboat had arrived from England. The arrival of a mailboat was always hailed with joyful anticipation by the European community, and Hudson as eager as anyone to collect the letters that he hoped would be awaiting him at the agent’s office. He had to endure a few supercilious glances from top-hatted gentlemen who had also arrived to collect their mail, and who viewed the pigtailed Englishman in Chinese clothes with undisguised scorn. He was getting accustomed to that! He received his letters, and returning home eagerly scanned them. Would there be one from his mother, or Amelia, with news of home and Barnsley? Would there, by some good chance, be one from the Chinese Evangelization Society containing his salary? Or one from his friend Ben, perhaps, to say he wanted to come and join him in the work?

Ah! Here was one in a handwriting that was becoming familiar. It was from Mr. Berger, a man who had grown very interested in the work of the young missionary, and whose friendly letters always breathed a warm encouragement that cheered Hudson’s heart. He opened it, and read until he came to the words:

“Please accept the enclosed as a token of love from myself and my dear wife.” The enclosed—what was it? Hudson opened out the little slip of pink paper tucked inside the letter and saw with amazement that it was a check made out to him—for forty pounds (about $200.000) Hudson just stared at it.

There it was again! Another tangible evidence that God knew all about his affairs. He had lost that amount of baggage, and here was the money to replace it—sent out from England at least six weeks before he had been robbed! (He little knew then that another such sum was soon to be on its way from someone else, too!) How glad he was that he had taken no steps to have his servant punished for stealing his things! And as he set out again through the beautiful province of Chekiang, with its orchards and steep little hills, its willows and its paddy-fields, he felt like a boy who had passed another examination, and heard the ring of commendation in his master’s voice as he said, “Well done!”