Barney nodded. “Good thing Reverend Hansen showed up. I haven’t the foggiest idea of what to do next.”
“Beecham said in his last letter that we’d work that out when we got here,” Andy explained.
“I can hardly wait.”
Down the hall the rest of the Company were getting settled in their quarters—Katie and Irene in one room, and the others in various accommodations.
“Better enjoy that shower,” Katie said to Irene as they showered and changed to dry clothing. “It may be the last one we have.”
“Sure is great after the trip over. Wonder if the rest are settled in.” Irene finished dressing and opened the door. “Oh,” she said, surprised to see a black girl nearby, “were you waiting for something?”
“No, ma’am. I am to help you. Is there anything you need?”
“Could we have some fresh water?” Irene requested, and when the girl left, Irene turned to Katie. “Servants and all. I didn’t know missionaries in Africa had it so good.”
“I think this must be unusual,” Katie said thoughtfully. “From what little we heard from Reverend Beecham, it’s pretty rough once you get away from the larger cities and into the bush.”
The Company was ready long before lunch and talked constantly, relieved to be away from the confines of the ship. Finally Andy said, “Well, I think we might as well go for our lunch.” He asked one of the servants for directions to the dining area and was told, “I will take you.”
He led them across an open compound to a large two-story structure built of stone. He pulled a rope hanging beside the door, setting off a bell inside the house. Immediately the door opened and Reverend Hansen greeted them. “Come in! Come in! We’ve been waiting for you!”
They were escorted to a huge room, furnished much like an American home, with beams across the ceiling and mounted heads of antelope, kudu, black leopard, and a nubian lion on the walls.
Standing next to a slim fair-haired attractive woman, Mr. Hansen said, “Let me introduce you to my wife, Emily, and my daughter, Dorothy.” The daughter, about twenty-three, was the image of her mother. She acknowledged the introduction and then quietly studied the group.
“Suppose you introduce your fellow missionaries, Mr. Winslow?”
After the formalities were completed, Reverend Hansen said, “Now I propose we move to the dining room.”
They were seated at a large table made out of a single slab of dark wood. Del Saunders and the two married couples sat at Hansen’s left, with Barney, Irene, Gardner and Dorothy Hansen facing them, and Mrs. Hansen at the other end.
A silver tureen graced the center of the table, with matching bowls in front of each guest. “Suppose we have the blessing now,” Reverend Hansen suggested, “so the soup won’t get cold.” He stood to his feet, and the others followed suit. The blessing was long and eloquent. The soup could be frozen by the time he’s finished prayin’, Awful thought, shuffling his feet. “Blimey!” he said later to Barney, “I thought he’d never get the bloomin’ prayer out of the way!”
“I think you’ll like this soup,” Hansen said as the white-coated male servants began filling the bowls. “It is sea turtle, fresh from the ocean just yesterday. And our cook is superb!”
After the monotonous shipboard diet, the missionaries found the soup and the food that followed delicious. They had a taste of native African game, including antelope steaks and a sampling of elephant meat—”just for the experience,” Mr. Hansen smiled.
Despite his rather affected ways, Reverend Hansen was sharp and intelligent; and before the meal was half finished, he had learned all their names. As the meal progressed, he drew from his guests much of their life circumstances. Slim Ranken’s expertise as a mechanic seemed to please Hansen, and Katie’s role as a former entertainer in a saloon fascinated him, but shocked his wife and interested his daughter.
Katie caught Barney’s eye and realized he, too, wondered what kind of man Reverend Hansen was.
Mrs. Hansen said little, but Dorothy perked up at the mention of Barney’s exploits as a boxer. “Were you the champion?” she asked.
“Bless you, no, Miss Hansen!” Barney smiled. “Just run of the mill.”
Andy, however, launched into the account of Sipes and Barney’s match. He told it well, making it a humorous affair.
“I know the man!” Reverend Hansen exclaimed. “He was locked up for drunkenness two years ago.”
“But it turned out well,” Awful interjected. “The whole bloomin’ crew was comin’ to services after that, and the officers, too.”
“Not Captain Seale?” Mrs. Hansen asked.
“Oh, that’s the best of it all!” Gardner grinned. “Our little evangelist, Miss Sullivan, the one who’s blushin’ like a rose right now, why, she won the captain’s heart—to the Lord, that is!”
“That’s extraordinary!” Hansen replied, his eyes wide. “His ship stops here on every voyage, and he’s been our guest many times. Such a fine fellow—but not religious.”
“Well, he is now!” Del Saunders laughed. “He’s even handing out Bibles to his crew!”
“I’m impressed,” Mrs. Hansen murmured, staring at Katie. “We’ve witnessed to Captain Seale, but he’s always been so reserved.”
“I suspect it was his concern for his daughter that broke him down,” Katie offered.
“What’s wrong with his daughter?” Dorothy asked.
“I don’t really know the circumstances,” Katie replied. “He was worried about her, and I suggested that if he knew the Lord, he’d be able to help her more.”
Hansen nodded with satisfaction, saying heartily, “Now that’s the way to deal with people! Use your head a little bit, find out what’s going on inside; then you can get them where you want them!”
His view on evangelism bothered both Katie and Barney, but only Winslow spoke up. “That would be pretty hard to do with the natives in the bush, wouldn’t it, Reverend Hansen?”
Mr. Hansen took a sip of coffee, thought about the question, then nodded. “You have a point, Barney—may we use first names? Ah, thank you. Well, we come to a matter that is a little touchy in missionary circles.”
“Touchy? In what way, sir?” Andy asked.
“The point is, we have a certain amount of money, a certain amount of time and manpower—and woman power, to be sure! But I have felt that we are to some extent wasting much of those items. Or to put it more charitably, I feel that I have found a more efficient way to invest them.”
“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 sta
rt 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 Final Adversary Page 17
