14 A Mission of Mercy

Chapter 14 A MISSION OF MERCY

IT has long ago been clear to the sympathetic reader that Mrs, Lewis was a woman of exceptional determination and heroic courage. In the late spring of 1904 occurred a series of events in which, according to the judgment of her friends, these qualities were revealed in supreme degree. A cry of distress came from San Salvador, which her loyal and affectionate heart interpreted as imperious, and in one of the wildest rainy seasons, when natives would only take the round under compulsion, she made the journey of something like one hundred miles alone. In April, 1902, the Rev. Arthur Mayo joined the Mission at Matadi, and a few months later passed on to San Salvador, his destined sphere of service. In May, 1903, he went down to Matadi to meet Miss Sygrave, who had come out from England to be his wife. They were married on May 17th, and shortly afterwards Mr. Mayo resumed his work in San Salvador, happily supported by his wife, who had been specially trained as a teacher. At this time Mr. and Mrs. Graham and Mr. Phillips were also in San Salvador, but the Grahams left for England in September, and Mr. Phillips for Matadi before Christmas. Meanwhile Mr. and Mrs. Wooding had arrived, and the two missionaries and their wives maintained the service of the station with no more than the usual vicissitudes until, in March, 1904, Mr. Wooding was stricken down by serious fever. The case was obstinate and assumed a very grave aspect. It happened that the Portuguese Resident was ill at the same time, so a messenger was despatched to Matadi requesting advice from the doctor there. A few days later news arrived that the messenger had been killed by an elephant, and under this final blow Mr. Mayo, overstrained by work and anxiety for his colleague, staggered and went down. When the fatal message was delivered he said, "I am ill, too," and went to bed. So the two wives were occupied in nursing their sick husbands, for Mr. Wooding’s obstinate fever still burned. For fourteen nights Mrs. Mayo sat up with her husband. Happily Nlekai and Vita were on the spot and rendered good service, Nlekai’s ministry being notably gentle, skilled, and welcome. As Mr. Mayo’s case grew graver, Mr. Wooding, still in fever, dragged himself from his bed to render assistance to his colleague, whose case was heavier than his own. The trouble deepened. Mr. Mayo’s temperature rose to 106-8, and he fell into delirium. It was obvious that unless relief came there would be general collapse; and in the extremity, not without compunction, for it was one of the worst and deadliest of Congo seasons, Mr. Wooding wrote to Kibokolo begging Mr. and Mrs. Lewis to come over and help.

Now at this time Mr. and Mrs. Bowskill were staying at Kibokolo, and Mrs. Bowskill was in delicate health. It was at once felt impossible that she and her husband, new to the place and people, should be left alone in that wild region. Therefore Mr. or Mrs. Lewis must needs go alone. Of course Mr. Lewis wished to go; but his wife said, "No, this is a woman’s business. Whatever happens to poor Mr. Mayo, Mrs. Mayo will be at the end of her tether. She will want a woman’s comfort and a woman’s nursing. I must go." And when Mrs. Lewis said " I must," her friends knew that they were confronted by finality, and she had her way. Her little caravan was hurriedly loaded, and on Sunday afternoon, just twenty-four hours after receiving the summons, she started on her venturesome journey. Mr. Lewis accompanied her some few miles on her way; and the parting would not be without emotion, as during the seventeen years of her Congo life she had never been separated from her husband for more than the briefest period of time. By one of those mischances which every biographer has to deplore, the letter in which she wrote a more or less detailed account of her journey has been lost, and I can only supply the brief records of her diary. In following these the reader will remember that it was the season of heavy rains and wild tempests; rivers were in flood; rank grass from twelve to twenty feet high overhung and obstructed the track in many parts; the track stretched to a hundred miles, and in covering it this frail Englishwoman, worn with many years of strenuous African life, but for her rough, dispirited, apprehensive native carriers, was alone.

"Saturday, April 16th. — Just at half -past one, as we were ready for dinner, two men arrived from Congo (San Salvador) with letter from Mr. Wooding begging for help. Mr. Mayo very ill and all knocked up. Decided that I should go. Very busy all afternoon packing."

"Sunday, 17th. — Breakfast very late. All morning arranging things for road, and for those left behind. Started at 1.45. Tom came to Nzinda. Road very bad in parts; slippery and grass trying. Arrived at Mbawa at 5 p.m. After ’chop’ and prayers, and writing a few lines to Tom and Bessie, went to bed early."

" Monday, 18th. — Wanted sleep so badly last night but was kept awake by a wretched biti (a native musical instrument) till very late. Rain all night; storm early this morning; rain continuing till 10.30. Headache; took phenacetin; read ’ Weir of Hermeston ’ a little. This afternoon sent forward to prospect, but Lupunde (river) impassable, so had to stay the whole day. Awfully tedious. A funeral here. Wrote a little to Tom. After prayers early to bed."

" Tuesday, 19th. — Started at 6.50; very bad road; did not get to Nkamba till 11.50. Started again at 1.40. Made very quick march to Tadi, arriving at 3.57. Wrote to Tom. At Nkamba, mail-man overtook us. Letters from Tom; all well."

"Wednesday, 20th. — Got to Nkanka to lunch — Fwese to sleep, arriving at about 3.35. All very wet when we got in. Had to change, & etc. No harm, but awkward for to-morrow."

" Thursday, 21st.— First dried all things. Started at 10.30. Did not reach Nkwimba (Zeka Town) till 2.45. Hesitated about going on, but big storm of rain compelled us to stay. Wrote up diary and letters to Tom. Cannot get a fowl."

" Friday, 22nd. — Started at 8.5. Found no town at Zamba, so ’ chopped ’ by stream and went on. Caught in big storm; arrived at Mwinga 6.45, awfully tired. Found Vita with some clothes, and ’chop,’ and note from Woodings. Got into bed, after ’chop,’ as soon as possible."

Saturday, 23rd. — Started at 7.40. ’ Chopped ’ at Kintina. Weather very bad. Had to wade Luanza [river]. Arrived at San Salvador about 5 p.m. Very kind welcome. Mrs. Mayo keeping up well. Wrote to Tom. Up very late talking." On the day before her arrival, Mrs. Lewis had learned from Vita at Mwinga that she was too late to aid in nursing Mr. Mayo. He had passed away on Wednesday, the 20th, when she was but half-way on her journey of mercy. Of course she was much exhausted when she reached San Salvador, though perhaps her exhaustion was most intense on the Friday, when she confesses herself to be "awfully tired." The much-abused word " awfully " is perhaps used legitimately in this case, for she admitted afterwards to Mrs. Graham that there were moments in that day during which she thought she would die before she got through. Her carriers too were so utterly spent that they sank down on the verandah of Mr. Wooding’s house and remained for hours without moving. For some days Mrs. Mayo kept up, despite the terrific strain to which she had been subjected, and Mrs. Lewis was free to throw herself into the work of the Mission, which she did with keenest interest. Difficult palavers taxed her patience and her wisdom. Inquirers were seen, medicine given out, and on the Sunday, eight days after her arrival, the diary records: —

" I took the women’s meeting; a crowd; and they all seemed pleased to see me."

Mrs. Mayo (now Mrs. Kirkland) — to whom I am indebted for many of the facts embodied in the remainder of this chapter, and for some already recorded — informs me that this women’s meeting was quite a memorable gathering. The demonstrations of respect and affection on the part of the audience were most touching. These black women clung about their friend and former teacher, and received her words with enthusiasm and with meekness. And the meekness was as great a tribute as the enthusiasm. For Mrs. Lewis had heard that some of them were not " walking worthily," and though she spoke the truth to them in love, she spoke the truth unsparingly, giving them a sound and wholesome lecture. On the same day the thing foreseen happened, and Mrs. Mayo went down with fever. For several days Mrs. Lewis was occupied in nursing her friend. Then Mrs. Wooding became ill and there was more nursing.

It was early apparent to Mrs. Lewis that Mrs. Mayo ought to start for England without delay, and, as other escort was not available, she determined herself to take her to Matadi. The caravan was loaded, and on Monday, May 16th, the two ladies started for the coast. On the second day out they met Diamanama with mails, who said that the Lunda river, which lay immediately before them, was impassable for carriers. That evening their plight was pitiable. Lodged in a hut just big enough to accommodate their two camp-beds, Mrs. Mayo weak from fever, Mrs. Lewis aware that her turn was coming, heavy rain blown into their miserable shelter by a wild wind, a flooded river awaiting them on the morrow, too dispirited for conversation, they sat down each on her camp-bed, and " had a good long cry." Though the pity of God, Who knoweth our frame, was not withheld from them, the sky gave no hint of it; for with the night came a fierce tropical thunderstorm. When at last they got to sleep they were attacked by driver ants, and had to make a hasty midnight flitting. Another poor shelter was procured, and in the morning they went down to see the Lunda. In truth they did not see it. The river had overflowed its banks, and before they had got through the long grass, to its normal margin, they were in deepening water, A colloquy with the headcarrier ensued. Mrs. Lewis stoutly said, " We will go across." The laconic and conclusive answer was: " But your boxes will not." Human will is a mystic and incalculable force, and often achieves miracles; but when its immediate organ is the frail body of an exhausted woman, it cannot lift the dead weight of a passively resistant caravan. There was but one thing to be done. They retraced their steps to San Salvador.

I give the record of Mrs. Lewis’s diary for several days: —

" Thursday, May 19th. — Arrived back at San Salvador this evening awfully tired.

" Friday, 20th. — Feeling very queer.

" Saturday, 21st. — In bed with fever, bad.

" Sunday, 22nd. — In bed with fever, rather bad. Bessie (Mrs. Mayo) is nursing me.

" Monday, 23rd. — Sat up to-day. Normal all day.

" Tuesday, 24:th. — Loaded and arranged caravan this morning. Feeling a bit queer, but much better.

" Wednesday, 25th. — Started, went to Kintina." A few words of comment upon these entries are perhaps called for. The reader will wonder why Mrs. Lewis, just up from fever, made so much haste to depart upon the long, trying journey to Kibokolo. The cause of her haste was her concern for Mrs. Mayo. She felt that her young friend must not be allowed to remain a day longer than was absolutely necessary amid the scenes of her recent suffering and sorrow. Her nerves were perilously overstrained; she could not sleep, and Mrs. Lewis judged that the journey to Kibokolo, with its inevitable hardships, would be far preferable to a prolonged stay in San Salvador. In her own home, too, she would be naturally able to give, with fuller freedom and competency, the careful, sympathetic treatment which the case required. So on the day after her recovery from fever, and while still "feeling a bit queer," Mrs. Lewis " loaded and arranged the caravan." And these words are to be taken literally. It was a man’s job, but masculine help being unavailable at the moment, in her determination to get away quickly Mrs. Lewis did it herself. From Wednesday, May 25th, to Tuesday, 31st, the diary is blank. The journey yielded no incidents of special moment. The usual discomforts were endured, aggravated by the inexperience of the hammock bearers. On May 31st occurs this entry:—

" Met Tom on the Nyanza. All came in together this afternoon. ’ Chopped ’ at Bowskills."

Mr. Lewis was returning from a vain journey to Tumba. When Mrs. Lewis was starting from San Salvador to escort Mrs. Mayo to the coast, she wrote to her husband, informing him of her project, saying also that in returning she purposed to take the train from Matadi to Tumba, and asking him to meet her there and accompany her home. Turned back from the flooded Lunda, she wrote again, hoping to be able to prevent his setting out. The second message arrived too late. The question naturally arises: If Mrs. Lewis could not consent to her husband’s leaving Kibokolo to accompany her to San Salvador, how was it she felt able to ask him to meet her at Tumba? One can only surmise either that less anxious conditions at home made his short absence feasible, or that she foresaw that her own probable exhaustion would make his escort necessary, even at some risk. A fortnight later Mr. John Pinnock arrived at Kibokolo, and took Mrs. Mayo to the coast, whence she sailed for England. At home her health and vigour were happily restored. Later, she was married to Mr. Kirkland, with whom she has since rendered excellent service to the Mission in the Congo region.

It goes without saying that the woman who did and dared so much for her in time of trouble, is remembered by Mrs. Kirkland with intense and reverent affection. But it is important to add that she regards her lamented and devoted friend as an ideal missionary, whose wisdom and efficiency were as great as her affectionate devotion. Moreover, Mrs. Kirkland likes to think that she is not the only woman missionary on the Congo who endeavours to prosecute her work according to the plans and methods of one whose life was a model and whose memory is an inspiration.