The Final Adversary

by Gilbert, Morris

  “He’s not as good-looking as Andy, is he?”

  “Not many men are.”

  “That’s right. Are you interested in him?”

  Katie had recognized from the first that Pearl was rather blunt, and that she took a great interest in the single members of the group. “I’m interested in being a good missionary right now. How’s Tobe?”

  “Oh, he’s fine,” Pearl said absently.

  “I’ve worried a little about him,” Katie frowned. “I hope he doesn’t have any of those attacks he had in New York.”

  “I don’t expect—oh, here’s Barney.”

  “Sugar and cream. That right?” he said as he placed the coffee before her.

  “Just right. Thank you, Barney.” She smiled at him warmly. “You’ll spoil me.” She sipped the coffee as she studied him over her coffee cup. “I’ve been talking with Katie about you. We’ve decided that you’re not nearly as eligible as Andy.”

  Barney grinned. “Aside from the fact that he’s better looking and smarter and knows how to make women happy, I don’t see why you should even voice such a thing. And remember, if a girl gets a fellow like that, some hussy is likely to run off with him. A girl wouldn’t have to worry about that if she got me.”

  Pearl and Katie both laughed, and he grinned broadly. “Well, some girl might run off with me, too—but who would care? So you can see, there are advantages to a low down sort of fellow like me.”

  “Oh, Barney, don’t talk nonsense!” Katie admonished. “Look how you and Awful got the Rescue Mission started. Why, Andy could never have begun a work in the fourth ward with the down-and-outers!”

  “No,” Barney said thoughtfully, “he hadn’t been in Sing Sing. That’s another advantage I have over him—being a jailbird.”

  “You’re a tough brute, Barney,” she commented, taking in his broken nose and muscular frame. The expression in her eyes was difficult to discern, for she had a way of scrutinizing and weighing people. “You’ll probably be carrying the whole lot of us on your back after the first week on the field.”

  “Not me. That’ll be Andy. Or Awful, maybe.” He got to his feet. “See you later. I’m going for a nap.”

  Pearl turned to Katie as Barney walked away. “You know what I think? You better get him, Katie. He’s not handsome, but he’d be caring and loving, one who would protect a woman.”

  “Oh, Pearl, I’m not going to get anybody!” Katie exclaimed.

  “If you don’t, I expect Irene will. A man needs a woman, and you and Irene are the only choices. And you know Irene—she’s pretty and knows how to please a man.”

  There was an implied criticism in her words, but Katie ignored the remark. “I’ve got to go work on my sermon for tonight,” she said. “Pray for me, Pearl. Or better still, why don’t you take the service?”

  “No, it’s you they need to hear,” Pearl said languidly. She continued sipping her coffee after Katie left, then got up and joined two officers at the rail who were taking a sighting. “Is that Africa, in that direction?” she asked playfully.

  Back in the cabin, Katie labored over her sermon, staying secluded most of the day. Fortunately, Irene hated the cabin, which the two shared, and was there only when asleep. The thought of preaching to the passengers and crew had been troublesome, and when Katie eventually joined the others for dinner, she still felt restless in her spirit.

  She sat next to Del Saunders, saying little and eating less. His conversation seemed to be occupied with his lack of appetite, yet he devoured his food like a shark. What a motley group we are, she thought. How will we ever exist? Her mind returned to the message she was to give. She prayed much, half listening as Andy expounded around the table.

  “I’ve been reading about Liberia,” he said. “The place has a very odd history. The name Liberia means ‘free,’ taken from the fact that it was settled by freed slaves. An organization called the American Colonization Society put the first group of freed slaves in the country in 1822. This society started the town of Monrovia, naming it after the President of the United States, James Monroe. He’d led the move to empower the U.S. Navy to board slave ships and release the slaves in Monrovia.”

  “I never heard of slaves starting a country,” Irene spoke up.

  “Well, it was pretty grim,” Andy said slowly. “Hunger and disease hit them hard, but gradually their numbers increased, and our government recognized the Liberian independence in 1882. It’s still sparsely populated.”

  “What about mission work?” Del Saunders asked. “Will we find any of that?”

  Andy hesitated, then said, “You already heard what they call the country—’The White Man’s Grave.’ The name came partly from the high death rate of missionaries. Of seventy-nine missionaries sent to Liberia by the Church Missionary Society of London before 1830, forty-four died of fever during their first year of service.”

  “My word!” Awful gasped. “It ain’t no bloomin’ health resort, is it, now!”

  The dark, foreboding information was anything but promising—some members paled at the prospect ahead, others accepted it as a challenge, seeing God’s hand of direction and provision.

  That evening more people than usual attended the service. “I think they’ve come to hear me because I’m a woman,” she whispered to Barney. “I feel like a freak!”

  But when she faced the audience, the apprehension left and her voice was firm. She shared frankly about her life of sin, of how she had sunk to the lowest levels of society. As she bared her heart before them, she had no conception of the impression her words made on the crew and the passengers.

  “But the Lord didn’t forget me,” she said warmly, her eyes flashing. “He died for me, and when I needed Him the most, He sent one of His servants to me. He doesn’t want me to mention it, but if it hadn’t been for Barney Winslow and the faithful workers of the Rescue Mission, I would still be lost, without hope, and away from God.”

  She concluded with a pleading that all her hearers look to Jesus for salvation. In response, two members of the crew came forward. Barney and Awful knelt with the men, praying with the two and showing them the way. The reality of their experience of receiving Jesus as Savior showed in their faces and caused much rejoicing among them.

  Afterward, Captain Seale said quietly, “I appreciated your sermon.” There was an expression of pain in his eyes, and he added, “I have a daughter who’s living a terrible life. Would you pray for her?”

  “Yes, of course,” Katie responded, adding, “I’ve been praying for you, Captain Seale. I believe God is dealing with your heart, too. Do you think He wants to give your daughter a Christian father?”

  He dropped his head, trying to hide the strong emotions stirring beneath his even demeanor. Katie waited for a moment. Then sensing the prompting of the Holy Spirit, she said, “When God is dealing with you, it’s not a good idea to ignore Him. Would you let me pray for you, Captain?”

  When he lifted his head, she saw the tears in his eyes. He said nothing but nodded assent. Katie prayed a simple prayer for his daughter, and when she ended, she asked, “Would you ask the Lord Jesus to come into your heart? That’s all one can do.” She urged him quietly. Finally he closed his eyes and his lips moved. Katie prayed, and when she finished, he lifted his head, and she saw that something had happened to him.

  “I . . . I feel much better,” he said, his voice filled with wonder. “Is this what you called ‘being saved’?”

  “Yes!” Katie said joyfully. “You asked Him to come into your life, didn’t you? Well, Jesus always comes when we ask. Now, could I give you a suggestion?”

  “What is it?”

  “Don’t keep what’s happened to yourself. Jesus said we were to confess Him before men. It may be a little difficult for you at first, but it will make you a stronger Christian. As you do, you’ll experience the reality of His love for you, and the desire to tell others will grow. Will you do that?”

  Captain Seale seemed uncomfortable, but the
shining face of the young woman before him gave him courage. “Yes, I will. As a matter of fact, I think right now would be the best time. I might lose my nerve later on.”

  “May I tell the others the good news?” she asked, and when he nodded, to his astonishment she called out loudly, “Everybody! Let me have your attention!”

  “You going to preach again, lady?” First Mate Sipes called out with a grin. He had enjoyed her sermon tremendously and would have listened to her again with pleasure.

  “No, Mr. Sipes, I am not—but we have wonderful news for you.” She paused, tears running down her cheeks.

  The others stopped what they were doing, wondering what she was going to tell them. “It always makes me cry when someone comes to the Lord Jesus.” She brushed the tears away with her hand and looked straight at Seale. “Captain Seale wants to say something. Right, Captain?”

  Seale was basically a private person, and when he found himself the target of every eye, he flushed and stammered. But gathering courage, he said firmly, “For a long time I’ve been interested in Jesus Christ, but a few moments ago, I discovered that—that He’s not just a person from ancient history but He’s alive! I’ve received Him into my life and I intend to follow Him with all my heart.”

  The room broke out into cries of joy—mostly from the missionaries, of course. But the captain’s fellow officers were dumbfounded. Though they admired Captain Seale, knowing him as a fine seaman and an educated man, his sudden announcement came like a clap of thunder.

  Sipes waited until the others had moved away before he approached Seale with a trace of uncertainty. “Well, Captain,” he mumbled, “I’m glad for you. Hope it lasts.” He looked at the missionaries and added in a subdued tone, “They ain’t like what I always thought Christians was like. Sort of makes a fellow think, Captain, when he meets up with the real thing, don’t it, now?”

  “Yes, Mr. Sipes,” Captain Seale agreed. His eyes rested on Katie Sullivan. “It gives me a start, thinking that fine young woman, and the rest of them, may all be in a shallow grave in six months’ time.”

  Sipes stared at him. “Aw, Captain, don’t talk like that!”

  “I don’t like to, but you know what that country’s like.” Then he looked at Sipes and added, “I don’t think I would put off making a decision too long, Melvin. We never know what’s around the corner, do we?”

  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 s
hort 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.”