Jimmy was with us from Pearl Harbor day. He shared our dangers through the troublous days of the fighting and the anxieties and vicissitudes which followed; also he bought our food for us and shared our meals, though he slept in a lodging of his own, not far away. We felt that his being with us was the Lord’s ordering both for him and for us. However, Jimmy was essentially a restless character. He had never stayed very long in one place, and as spring came on, his thoughts began to turn to Shanghai which was more like home to him than anywhere else in China.
“My sister has a rice shop in Shanghai,” he said, “and my father lives there. I think they will be glad to see me.” They had never previously helped him when he was hard up, but we hoped that they would stand by him if he went back.
Things seemed to be going from bad to worse in Hong Kong; food was scarcer and prices higher every day. The Japanese were only too anxious for people to leave the city; and every day or two, parties of men, women, and children were setting out on foot for distant cities or villages in the interior. They went in large parties for greater protection against the bandits who infested the roads. The Japanese granted them permits, and insisted on their being inoculated against cholera.
Jimmy heard of a party soon leaving for Shanghai which was about eight hundred miles from Hong Kong by road. It seemed a desperate undertaking to set out for a walk of eight hundred miles with the very slender earthly resources which Jimmy could count upon. But the more he thought of it, the more Jimmy felt that he must get back to Shanghai. Others had done it and why should not he?
In the house where he lodged, there was a poor widow and her son who came from a city near Shanghai. They would be traveling the same road and they also were very anxious to get home. Nearby lived a Buddhist priest with whom Jimmy became acquainted, and he also was to be of the party. Jimmy had a Wonderful gift for friendship, and he used to talk to us about this “dear Buddha priest” with whom he had frequent religious arguments which lasted till far into the night. The priest, for his part, seemed attracted to Jimmy, and told him that he ought to strengthen himself for the journey by eating food which would be a tonic to him. One day, Jimmy asked me for some empty tin cans. That “dear Buddha priest” said he, “is going to give me some good stuff which he himself has made, to strengthen me for the journey.”
“What is it made of?” said I. “You had better be careful what you eat, especially when you don’t know what it is.”
“He says he made it out of the bark of trees, mostly pine trees,” replied Jimmy, “and that it will strengthen my body. Priests know a lot about medicine, you know.”
I knew there was something in what he said. The next morning Jimmy arrived at breakfast with the tin full of a greenish powder. He helped himself largely, mixing the powder up with his rice gruel. He generously invited us to have some too, but it tasted so bitter and strong of turpentine that we were content with very little. Jimmy, however, faithfully ate the priest’s powder for a week or two before he left, and though I often feared he would make himself sick, he claimed that he felt better for it.
He now began a regular campaign for collecting money. He went to all his friends, of whom he had a great many, and represented the necessities and dangers of the journey to Shanghai, working on their sympathies to such an extent, that he collected about eighty dollars Hong Kong currency which amounted to about one thousand dollars Chinese money. That was little enough with prices such as they were.
Jimmy had a good many possessions, chiefly clothes―and there were many discussions as to what he should take with him. Obviously he could only take what he could carry and he was not very strong.
“I must carry my Bible,” he said. It was a large heavy Chinese one. “They may ask me to preach” he added meditatively, “and anyway, there will be opportunities for the gospel along the way.” He also wanted to take his warm padded robe, but with great regret he relinquished his tweed suit, hoping it might be sent after him later. Finally he packed all his things into a small suitcase and a bundle, one at each end of a carrying pole.
Then came the question of how to carry his money. There were many bandits on the road who might search his luggage. Some people were having their money sewed between two layers of leather in the soles of their shoes, but Jimmy feared that the bandits might carry off shoes and all. Finally he hit on a brilliant idea. “Mrs. Koh,” he said, “I think the best thing would be for you to bake my money into a loaf of bread.” He bought some flour and I made two loaves of bread. Three hundred dollars, wrapped in wax paper, was in the center of one loaf, and four hundred dollars, similarly wrapped, in the other. When the loaves were baked, no one could have guessed what was inside. The rest of the money was hidden under a large patch on his trousers.
At last, one morning in June, Jimmy set off very cheerfully with the poor widow and her son, and the “dear Buddha priest” and about fifty other people. He seemed to have passed completely out of our narrow Hong Kong world. We prayed for him and often wondered about him, but no word came from him for several months. Then there was a card from him saying that he had reached Foo Chow and had no more money, so was waiting till he had means to go on. Again there was a long wait, and then a Portuguese friend had a letter from a friend in Shanghai who mentioned that he had met Jimmy Davis and that “he was still able to walk.”
Afterward dear Jimmy twice sent us fifty dollars through Chinese shops which had branches in both Shanghai and Hong Kong. It must have been out of his own dire necessity.
We have learned since, that after my brother’s family were interned, Jimmy continued to live on in their house. Sometimes he went to the villages to preach, and after one such expedition he came home probably weak and hungry. There was no one to help him, and he died there in the house. We felt very, very grieved over this, but the Lord makes no mistakes, and He took His servant to a better home.