“Fly, happy sails, and bear the Press;
Fly, happy with the mission of the Cross;
Knit land to land, and blowing havenward
With silks, and fruits, and spices, clear of toll,
Enrich the markets of the golden year.”
On the 25th of April, 1876, the party of five took their farewell of the Church Missionary Society — C. T. Wilson, Dr. John Smith (one of Mackay’s earliest and dearest friends), Messrs. T. O’Neill, James Robertson, and A. M. Mackay. Lieutenant G. Shergold Smith, with two artisans, had already sailed, taking with them, in sections, a little steamer, which was afterward used for missionary purposes on Lake Nyanza.
We have a great amount of ground to cover, but we must make a diversion for the purpose of quoting a brief extract from the last speech delivered by Mackay in England — at the farewell gathering already alluded to — Mackay spoke last, and sent a thrill through the audience with these prophetic words, which, alas! were soon too amply verified by actual facts: “There is one thing which my brethren have not said, and which I want to say. I want to remind the Committee that within six months they will probably hear that one of us is dead. Yes, is it at all likely that eight Englishmen should start for Central Africa, and all be alive six months after? One of us at least — it may be I — will surely fall before that. But what I want to say is this: when that news comes, do not be cast down, but send some one else immediately to take the vacant place.”
One by one those Christian heroes and pioneers died at the post of duty and danger, and within three years Alexander Mackay was at Uganda alone, and anxiously but patiently waiting for the coming of reinforcements which were, by the very necessity of things, long delayed. The thought of that last speech often recurred to him in those days of lonely watching and waiting. Yet he bravely held the fort alone, and in the savage, barbarous court of Mtesa, laid the seeds of a great spiritual harvest, and protested, with all the force of his strong, freedom-loving nature, against those revolting and barbaric practices, which so often made Uganda, in common with almost every other portion of Africa, the scene of lawless and bloody carnage.
In his last letter home, dated from Southampton, 27th April, 1876, he said — “It is His cause. It must prosper whether I be spared to see its consummation or not. Pray for me that grace may be given me to keep steadily in view the one great object.”
On the day he wrote this letter he went on board the S. S. Peshawur. On the 6th of the following month they arrived at Malta, and on the 30th they lay at anchor in the harbor of Zanzibar. Right in front lay the vast continent which these few men, in their God-inspired strength, hoped to draw nearer to Christ.
During the voyage Mackay kept a journal which, after many strange vicissitudes, came into the possession of his sister, who undertook to write his biography. Though it is full of interest we cannot make any quotations.
Their privations soon commenced. Lieutenant Smith and Mackay underwent many perilous experiences in exploring the river Wami. Fever attacked Lieutenant Smith and O’Neill, and shortly afterward Mackay also. Dr. Smith was the first to die under the influence of the malaria; but before Mackay fully recovered, he received instructions from the Church Missionary Society not to commence the long march into the interior until June, 1877, at which time the rainy season (so fatal to Europeans) would be over.
During this delay he lived on board the steamer Highland Lassie, which was anchored off Zanzibar. Soon after his recovery he despatched a caravan into the interior, and then commenced the laborious operation of making a good permanent road from Sadani, which is on the coast line near the island of Zanzibar, to Mpwapwa, a distance of 230 miles. At Sadani he made some searching investigations into the slave trade, which he quickly found was one of the worst curses which afflict Africa. In more than one instance he gave chase to the marauding bands of slave-hunters, and liberated poor helpless people who had fallen into their merciless clutches.
The march across the heart of Africa was a terrible undertaking. The sufferings they had to patiently bear were enough to test the powers of the strongest and the most godlike of men. It is a stock slur against missionaries, in some quarters, that they go into these out-of-the-way quarters for the purpose of living lives of ease and affluence. Surely the records which come from this pioneer expedition to the Nyanza are in themselves a perfect refutation of these slanders. It must be remembered that almost all these men had been brought up in cultured and refined homes, and the prospects of two or three of them were nothing short of brilliant. In all human probability most of these men would have been living now if they had remained at home, whereas they were content to place themselves in the hands of God, and undergo all manner of privations for the purpose of carrying the message of love and hope and peace to benighted Uganda. All the world has united in paying tribute to Mr. H. M. Stanley, and rightly so. But we must never forget that the same work has been done in a more complete degree by many who are now lying in unnamed and unknown graves in the land where they labored.
Slowly the party journeyed through the country, and Mackay always endeavored to arrange amicable terms with the chiefs through whose territories they passed, and with a considerable number he established “a blood brotherhood.”
Very soon he was called upon to perform a painful act of duty which showed how chivalrous were his feelings. Lieutenant Smith and Mr. O’Neill had pushed on in advance of the rest of the party. On the 6th December they wrote from Kagei, which is on the borders of the Victoria Nyanza. Nothing more was heard from them, but Mackay gathered conclusive evidence that they had been mixed up in an unfortunate quarrel between Lkonge, king of Ukerewe, and an Arab who had taken refuge with the two missionaries, who sacrificed their lives in trying to protect him.
Mackay’s task was one of immense difficulty. Mtesa, who at the time was a professed Christian, was sending down a large army for the purpose of chastising Lkonge for permitting such an outrage upon his guests. The intrepid Scotsman knew that if bloodshed was once commenced there would be very little scope for the labors of missionaries for many years to come. He therefore pushed on towards Ukerewe with all possible haste for the purpose of seeking an explanation from the king and, if possible, avoiding the outburst of Mtesa’s revengeful purposes. At Kagei he found a few things which had belonged to these friends, and also their boat, the Daisy, which was in a very dilapidated condition and in need of great repairs before it could be made serviceable to the pioneer missionaries.
Mackay had several interviews with King Lkonge, and the result was a satisfactory agreement between them that the death of the missionaries was due to Smith and O’Neill having defended the Arab rather than to any hostile intention on the part of the king or his people. Lkonge expressed great regret that the painful incident should have happened in his territory, and the two thereupon established “a blood brotherhood” — a token of mutual agreement and friendship. This chivalrous act is a type of Mackay’s character, caring much more for others than himself, perfectly willing to risk everything if the performance of his duty demanded it.
Mackay remained the guest of the king for several days, and in his free interaction with the people he never failed to improve every possible opportunity for sowing the precious seed of God’s divine message to men. For several days more he was delayed in patching up the Daisy and in exploring the magnificent Nyanza. In his journeyings he was frequently brought face to face with the curses inflicted by the slave traffic, and too often for his comfort or convenience he was besieged with multitudes of people who desired him to make all manner of things for them and to administer medicines to their sick ones. Though yearning to help these poor people, Mackay was often compelled, for want of knowledge or want of resources, to refuse to accede to these requests for physic. He was not a doctor, and some of the patients brought to him would have sorely puzzled the skill and ingenuity of our best physicians. Besides, it was an extremely dangerous thing to doctor these people. Mackay himself defines this danger in these words: “If a cure is effected, good and well; if the patient dies, it is unfortunate, but natural enough, for such ignorant people to say my medicine was the cause of death.”
That voyage across the Nyanza was full of difficulties and dangers; on one occasion they were wrecked, and Mackay and his comrades had an exceedingly narrow escape from death. But they were in God’s hands and were saved for the accomplishment of a great and glorious purpose. How many people were blessed by Mackay’s ministrations in Uganda it would be impossible, of course, to conjecture; but it is safe to say that by his careful and patient plodding he laid the foundation of a mighty work which has had, and will have, a vastly beneficial influence on Africa.