Hudson taylor, god’s venturer

Chapter 6

“Don’t cry, Mother, dear,” he had said. “It is only for a little while. We shall meet again...” But he had to hurry back on board and leave her. She was standing up now, her full skirts billowing in the breeze, waving her handkerchief to him. Hudson, loath to lose sight of her, suddenly turned and climbed up into the rigging, to get a better view. Standing there among the swaying ropes he held on firmly with one hand, and with the other waved his hat vigorously. It would cheer her, perhaps, to see him like that! High above his head the sails were flapping and the masts creaking as the ship drew toward the dock gates. The beloved figure on shore seemed to be getting smaller and smaller, and her little fluttering handkerchief more minute...

“Oh-h-h!” Hudson stopped waving at the sound of that piercing cry. It was his mother. The ship was passing through the dockgate now, and making for the open sea, bearing her only son away to that distant, unknown land, China! This was good-by indeed! The anguish of that cry went through Hudson’s heart like a knife. What this was costing her! She was suffering so much more than he! A lump rose in his throat.

The ship was gathering speed now, and he could no longer distinguish the little figures standing at the end of the dock. He strained his eyes, peering through the misty air until he know he could see them no more, and slowly swung down on to the deck, the sound of that cry still ringing in his ears. A new thought was submerging his mind. If it cost his mother so much to see him leave her for China, what must it have cost God to part with His Son, when Jesus came to earth to die for man’s sin? Was not God a Father? Was not Jesus “his only begotten Son”? Somehow, the sacrifice of parting that he and his mother were feeling so keenly seemed to bring him nearer to God, to understand better what was meant by the love of God. God loved, so He knew what this sort of suffering was, too. Hudson felt strangely strengthened in the midst of his pain as he went down to his cabin.

He was the only passenger on the Dumfries, a small sailing ship of only 470 tons, and he had been told it would be five or six months before it would dock in Shanghai. In 1853 there was no Suez Canal route to the Far East, and the little ship must breast its way through the waves around the Cape of Good Hope, and brave the typhoons of the Pacific before it could reach its destination. A long sea voyage indeed, and one that provided him enough danger and excitement during the first ten days to last him the rest of the trip! Almost as soon as the Dumfries entered the Irish Channel she had to make her way in the teeth of a gale, and for days she was driven hither and thither like a cork, by the force of the winds. Hudson had never known anything like it, and rapidly revised any ideas he may have had about the romance of a sailor’s life. The timbers creaked and groaned, sea water found its way into the cabins, his clothes felt damp and sticky, and as the days and nights passed, the storm seemed to increase in fury until on Sunday afternoon the seas were mountainous.

Hudson struggled up on deck, and clinging to the side of the ship, looked around on the wild scene. The sea was white with foam, and waves came rolling, one after another, until they seemed to tower above the little Dumfries like threatening cliffs as it floundered in a trough of swirling water. When it seemed that it must be submerged, then the vessel would begin to tilt dangerously, and Hudson, feet sliding on the slippery deck, could scarcely keep his balance until the ship perched dizzily on top of the liquid cliff only to plunge down again as the wave rushed on. As he looked across the raging seas, he saw a large ship astern, beaten along by the winds, and a little brig. How helpless they all were, and how powerless they would be if the waves dashed them together!

The captain was standing beside him, face set and anxious. Never had he seen a wilder sea, he admitted.
“Unless God helps us,” he added solemnly, “there is no hope.”

“How far are we from the Welsh coast?” asked Hudson. The dangerous Welsh coast with its rocks jutting out into the sea!

“Fifteen or sixteen miles...” But they were drifting toward it, for the west wind was blowing. “We must carry more sail. The more sail we carry, the less we shall drift. God grant the masts can stand it...” What if they were to snap under the strain of the wind? But the risk has to be taken. Their lives were at stake. He ordered two sails to be hoisted.
The ship plunged forward, faster than ever, with the wind filling the sails. It was rolling one-sidedly, with the waves at times rushing right over the lee bulwarks. The evening was drawing on, and the sun was sinking behind a bank of clouds. Hudson watched it solemnly.

“Tomorrow thou wilt rise as usual,” he thought, feeling rather dramatic. “But unless a miracle happens, all that will be left for us will be a few broken timbers floating on the waves...” How his family would sorrow if he were drowned! And what a waste of money for the Chinese Evangelicalization Society, who had spent on his outfit and passage! And what would it feel like, that struggle in the raging waters before they finally closed over his head? It was a melancholy thought. Hudson felt cold and lonely and rather frightened in the gathering darkness, with the wind roaring and the spray beating his face. He fumbled his way slowly to the gangway and descended to his cabin. Finding his hymnbook and Bible, he sat on his bunk and started to read.

“Let not your heart be troubled; ye believe in God, believe also in me...” There was such a calmness about the familiar words, that somehow he began to feel calmer himself. He read on, and after a while, his eyes tired with reading in the uncertain light of the swaying lantern, he threw himself on the bunk and fell asleep.

When he awoke, it was probably approaching midnight. The ship was still pitching violently, and the wind roaring. How far were they now from land, and those treacherous rocks? Hudson went up on deck again. Peering across the moonlit waters, he saw a light ahead. It was the Holyhead lighthouse, sending forth its warning to all ships that might be approaching too near. The Holyhead lighthouse—and the rocks...

“Can we clear it?” he shouted to the captain, the sound of his voice almost carried away by the wind.
“If we make no leeway we may just do it,” the captain shouted back. “But if we drift, God help us...”
And they did drift. Helplessly they watched the light to which they were drawing nearer and near. How long would it take the ship to reach it, drifting at this rate?

“Have we got two more hours?” shouted Hudson. Probably not so long, was the reply. Less than two hours...

All the time, in his heart, he was praying. He found it almost impossible to frame coherent sentences, for his mind was in turmoil. Something within went on mutely beseeching God, his Father, to save them. He looked at the sea, and saw the waters white with foam in the bright moonlight. Only a few hundred yards ahead of them, it seemed, was land, and the rocks.

“Can the boats live in a sea like this?” he asked the captain, wondering why they were not lowered.

“No...”

“No time...” The captain moved suddenly, as though he had made up his mind.

“We must try and turn her, or it’s all up,” he said. They seemed to be making straight for the land that lay just ahead. “We’ll have to tack...the sea may sweep the deck in turning, and wash everything overboard...but we must try!” and he gave the order. The effort to turn the ship outward failed. The force of the wind and the waves was too strong. Desperately the captain turned the ship the other way. It meant sailing dangerously near the rocks, but with the added impetus of the wind in the sails, it was just possible they might be cleared. All eyes were on these rocks, with the white foam dashing against them and splashing feet high into the air. Could the ship steer clear? They were only two ships’ length away, and if the little vessel could not hold her course, she would be dashed to pieces within a few minutes. Breathlessly Hudson watched, clinging to the rigging as the ship, tossed up and down, beat her way to the waves. They were passing the rocks! They were passing—they had passed! Now could they but beat out to sea, away from that dangerous coast, they yet be saved.

Then it happened. The wind that had been beating so relentlessly on them, veered in their favor. The change of direction was only slight, to be sure, a mere two points, but it was sufficient to carry them away from the coast. When the sun rose on Monday morning it shone down, not as Hudson had feared on a few broken timbers, but on a little vessel, sails gallantly hoisted, making for the open sea!