Our work in the district of Viangi became more frequently interrupted with attacks of malarial fever, which greatly reduced my husband's strength. Inasmuch as the time was drawing near for our return to England, he was anxious to get a riding donkey, as he was quite unfit for long journeys through swamp and rugged forest.
I, too, was in a very weakened condition and unable to march with the caravan. However, since my riding donkey had been killed by a lion, I had become more accustomed to the use of the hammock in all our long marches, and I purposed using this on our prospective journey down country.
My husband was fortunate enough to meet, one day, with a caravan, which was passing near to our station on its way to the Coast, in which there was a large native donkey. He proposed purchasing it, but the owner who was proceeding to Zanzibar offered him the use of it, saying that he could return it on reaching the Coast; but if the animal died on the way, no matter. These were the only conditions on which my husband could get the donkey, and he gratefully accepted the help.
There was a great deal of trouble breaking in this wild donkey and when my husband got on its back it took two men to hold it; but after a short time it was trained to a reasonable condition for riding. To test the animal, he rode it for a short journey of about sixteen miles, in paying a farewell visit to some of the native villages. In coming back at night his few followers were lingering in the rear, and, drawing in the reins of his donkey for a moment, and turning round in the saddle, he gave a shrill whistle to call them forward. The donkey, on hearing the whistle, made a violent leap sideways, and threw my husband off, causing a severe bruise of the ribs. He was able to mount again and reach home that night, but did not sleep, as breathing was very painful.
I asked him to wait for a few days before starting on the march down country, but he did not think it necessary to postpone our departure. All arrangements, therefore, were completed for our journey to the Coast. A caravan bringing up goods into the interior had already arrived at Mpwapwa, and it had been arranged that we should go down country with these men on their return journey. Kind letters of affectionate goodbye came in from the other Missionaries in the district. One of them, the Rev. H. Cole, who had narrowly escaped death, having been gored by a buffalo while out shooting some meat for his camp, wrote from his bed of suffering.
My dear Mr. Watt,
It is very hard to say good-bye to you. To have to do so gives me much uchungu (bitterness) of heart. In Central Africa we much need wholehearted men like you. May God's blessing rest upon you wherever you go is our earnest prayer. There is a place where spirits meet, Behold, 'tis at the Mercy Seat.
Yours sincerely,
(Signed) H. Cole.
My husband passed another restless and sleepless night, but decisively determined that the caravan should start and proceed on its way that day. The men, who had just arrived from the Coast, and who were to return with us, brought news which gave me much concern. They said that about two days' march from our station, there were a great many Wahumba warriors, who had been out raiding; and that, to escape them on the way up country, they had been obliged to travel all night. They seemed to be in a state of great fear, and were afraid to go back by the same track. To tranquilize their minds, my husband arranged to start by a different path, through another region of the country, to avoid the violent marauders.
A short time before setting out, when the men were tying up their loads on the verandah, one of them placed his loaded rifle against the wall of the house. During the handling of their burdens, this rifle was knocked down and, in falling, the hammer came into such violent contact with the floor, that the rifle was fired. The bullet went through the mud wall of the Mission house, and then, whizzing past me, entered the second wall of the room, immediately behind my head. We were thankful to God for such a narrow escape at the very beginning of our journey.
After some time of prayer, asking God's gracious blessing on the work we were leaving behind, and seeking His protection for our lives and those of our caravan on the way down country, we said goodbye to the natives, who were lined in numbers along our track. Taking a farewell glance at the station buildings which we had built, and which our friends Dr. and Mrs. Pruen were to occupy, we started on our long march. Very soon we were in the forward part of the caravan directing the men, as they were unfamiliar with the country through which we were to pass.
It was a great pleasure to us to have with us five of the natives who had been converted to God at Viangi. They had volunteered to accompany us on the way to the Coast, and took the lead in the caravan, pitching the tent and preparing the camp. My husband, who was in great agony from the result of his accident, was thus relieved of much anxiety by the presence of these faithful men.
After two days' march, we had a peculiar and wonderful experience with our Coast porters. We were passing along through a thick tangled belt of low bush, which stood like a wall on each side of our path. The track was very winding, now bending towards the north, and then abruptly turning to the south or south-east: but still the same impenetrable wall of bush, and creeping vine, and spine-clad cactus on either side. Sometimes it ran down into deep ravines, where the overhead growth was so dense as to shut out the sun at noonday, and then we would emerge again on to higher land, where the same dense bush prevailed, but of more small growth, and the same class of winding narrow track.
As our porters were slowly winding their way along this serpentine path through the bush, there was a sudden halt, for in the distance was heard a low, rumbling sound. One or two of the Coast porters stared at each other inquiringly, and said, "Nini hii?" (What is this?), and then every man in the caravan startlingly cried out, "Nini hii?”
As the moments passed by, the peculiar sound increased greatly in volume, and the dismay of the porters was multiplied tenfold, as they stood speechless, not knowing what terrible destruction was rushing towards them. We were in the center of the caravan, and the frightened porters in front and those behind kept pressing towards us for protection, until the narrow passage was tightly packed with a tightly grouped number of human beings, with their loads balanced on their heads. In all our travels we had never experienced anything like this before, and so we had no idea of what terrible visions were brewing in the minds of our dark followers, concerning the impending disaster, which to them was surely and rapidly approaching.
As the unearthly sound drew nearer, a few of the men cried out, “Tembo, Tembo!” (Elephants!) and immediately threw down their loads, and began crawling into the thick bush on either side. The four men who carried me and my child laid us down on the track and, with the others, scrambled into the thicket.
My husband had barely time to thrust us into the most open part of the bush, so that we might have a chance of escaping the tread and tusk of the oncoming elephants, when—Lo! the whole riddle was solved by the appearance of about a dozen strong, nude Wahumba warriors, on the run, with glistening spears in hand, who were amusing themselves by dragging behind them their huge buffalo-hide shields! The volume of sound, produced by the trailing shields over the hard, rough, indented track, was very great, and generated in the minds of our frightened porters gigantic visions of some terrible onslaught.
The bush was so thick and impenetrable, that most of our men were only able to get a few yards off the track. If my husband had not been with them, there is no doubt that they would have been murdered to the last man. The Wahumba are always on the warpath, murdering and plundering. My husband talked with them quite confidentially and casually, and gave them no hint whatever that his men were a mob of trembling, terrified coast slaves. The warriors passed on, evidently under the impression that our men were resting underneath the shade of the bush, while their loads, and in many cases their rifles, were lying on the track.
When the Wahumba had disappeared, our carriers came crawling out of their hiding places, with a half-forced smile on their faces, and their right hand over their mouth in blank amazement, saying, “Oh, Sir! if you had not been with us, we should all have been dead men this day." On the following morning, we found that the rations of our porters were almost finished and, seeing some giraffe in the distance, my husband, though still suffering much pain with his chest, took his rifle and two or three of the men, and went away on his donkey to try to refill the supply of food.
Meanwhile, I and the main body of the caravan were to rest in the shade of the forest. After my husband had been away for some time, and the majority of the porters were lying resting themselves by their loads, some of them fast asleep, a whisper went through the camp that a band of the much dreaded Elmoran (fighting men) of the Masai tribe were almost upon us. The gleaming spears of these far-famed raiders and murderers could be seen hastily approaching through the forest. The porters seemed to lose all courage, and were already beginning to run away.
I realized in a moment our defenseless position, and the probability of the immediate slaughter of my child, myself and the whole caravan, in the absence of my husband; and, lifting up my heart to God, I quickly commanded the terror-stricken porters to fall into line. Acting as if under the influence of some external power, the men of the entire caravan fell into order at the word of command. Such a formidable phalanx was thus presented to the oncoming warriors, that, under the providence of God, they at once slunk off into the forest and disappeared. Our porters expected that the Masai had only retreated to bring reinforcements, and would soon follow us up again. They were, therefore, in great anxiety about my husband's return to camp, and, when a short time afterward he came in, it was a great relief to us all.
The next day we got into Mamboia, where there was an abundance of food, and our porters gladly secured a large supply with the barter goods we had dealt out to them. The remainder of our long journey to the Coast was clouded by the illness of my husband, and perhaps still more so by my occasional attacks of fever, as we passed through the deep gullies and marshy swamps of the N'guru country.
After three weeks of weary marching, day by day, we arrived at Semagombe, in the Useguha country, and visited the spot where we had laid our child to rest in the forest. Due to the more frequent attacks of fever, we hastened on our way to the Coast, through a dry scorching wilderness, in which it was often impossible to get a cup of water that was fit for use from the thick muddy pools. Although the water was passed through the pocket filter, yet this failed to change the color, or extract its peculiar, unpleasant, swampy flavor.
On reaching the borders of civilization, at Saadani—a village on the Coast, whence we were to sail to Zanzibar—we met with two Missionaries, Stokes and Deekes. I photographed them underneath the branches of the great baobab tree, under which we had encamped when first entering Africa. The trunk of the tree was twenty-five yards in circumference.
When we arrived at Zanzibar, the fever, which had been troubling me all the way down country, now seized me with increased strength, and for a long time it seemed as if I could not recover. At the time our ship was due to leave Zanzibar for Aden, I was almost at the point of death, and departure was out of the question. My husband nursed me continually day and night without relief, until he was utterly worn out with fatigue, anxiety and lack of sleep. However, two lady Missionaries of the Universities Mission in the Island very kindly volunteered to release my husband for a time, to give him an opportunity of getting some sleep. They also took my little daughter to the Mission Station to be cared for while I was ill. For several days they devotedly nursed me, but it seemed apparent to them that I could not live, so my husband once again took entire charge of me, watching by me day and night. Eventually I became unconscious, and for seven days was unconscious, unable to see or speak. During this time of death-like prostration, he fed me with fluid nourishment and, though all friends had given up hope of my recovery, he felt assured that God would raise me up. The Lord was pleased to answer his prayer, and I gradually recovered, but for a period of almost two months was unable to walk.
It was quite an thrilling joy to me to see my child once again. After some weeks I was able to go out occasionally in a carriage, which the Sultan was kind enough to send for our use. After recuperation we embarked for Aden, where we got a British India steamer for London, arriving there midwinter. Being very weak and much run down in health, we suffered a good deal from the damp English climate and, inasmuch as the fever still clung to my husband, we were advised to have a sea voyage.
After taking a tour round the world and returning to England, my husband was still suffering from the effects of malaria in his system, and was ordered by the doctors to go out to the mild climate of Australia, and remain there some time. This was quite contrary to our ideas, as we were hoping to be able to return to Africa. Nevertheless, my husband unhesitatingly prepared to carry out these recommendations. Many of our Missionary friends greatly sympathized with us, because of our unfulfilled hopes to re-enter the Dark Continent. The Rev. R. Lang, Secretary for Africa to the Church Missionary Society, wrote as follows: -
My dear Mr. Watt,
I am glad to hear that you are probably going to Australia, where I hope you will be able thoroughly to regain your health, and find in that wide field a friendly sphere of work, where you can fulfill your heart's desire to devote yourself to your Master's service. I feel sure that a return to Africa would, after the experience of your short residence there, be a hazardous experiment. It would be unwise to risk a climate which has already so severely tried you, and where possibly your health might entirely fail you, when ample scope is in God's providence opening out before you in such a climate as that of Australia.
Feeling very real sympathy with you in your disappointment regarding Africa, where I know your heart still lies, and thoroughly appreciating your devoted spirit, it will be a great pleasure to us all to hear that you have found a sphere for your energies, of the Lord's choosing, and that you are once again happily engaged in active service for Him. May you have all wisdom and discretion, all faith and power granted to you, that wherever you may be called to work your labor may not be in vain in the Lord.
I am, dear Mr. Watt,
Yours very faithfully,
(Signed) R. Lang, Secretary,
Church Missionary Society.
Once again we turned our faces eastward and, arriving in Australia, found the climate helpful and refreshing to both of us. We determined that, should God in His goodness restores us to health, we would return to East Equatorial Africa, unconnected with any Society; and open up Missionary work in some of those great tracts of country along the Equator, which were as yet closed against the Gospel, and where no Missionaries had yet tried to enter.
The open-air life in the delightful climate of Australasia quite restored my husband to health, and, in his extensive travels through the country, he had many precious opportunities of witnessing for God and of seeing souls saved by His Grace. We purchased a beautiful suburban home, with nice grounds and fruit garden, to which we were both much attached; and, as the months passed by in my new home, I felt more and more how difficult it would be to carry out our resolve, and to make the sacrifice I had previously intended, in returning to Central Africa.
It seemed so hard to think of breaking up our home, and going back to the sorrows and hardships of the interior, and more especially so because that God had given to us a baby boy on our first arrival on the shores of Australia and, since then, another precious gift of a little daughter in His providence and love. I had been through the fire of affliction and sorrow, and had laid the body of my little son in the jungle, when but six days' march from the Coast: and the thought of our young children dying of fever or dysentery, or being stabbed by the spear of the warrior, was a trial from which my heart turned away.
I was still further launched into the sea of perplexity and doubt regarding our return to Africa, because my husband had resolved to commence work in an unopened country, where no Missionary had ever delivered the word of the Gospel. He did not think it justifiable, in opening up independent Missionary work, to enter fields that had been already occupied, but made it his aim, as Paul had done, to preach the Gospel where Christ had not been already named, so that “they might see to whom no tidings of Him came." Perhaps I loved my Savior, and the benighted Africans for whom He died, just as much as my dear husband; but the many dangers to life, attached to such work as entering new and unopened countries in that dangerous land, with all the suffering and sorrow such a life might require, led me to shrink from the sacrifice.
I pictured to myself the many nights I watched by the camp bed of my young husband in a defenseless tent, while leopards and lions prowled around outside, and when death seemed stamped upon his agonized facial appearance. I thought of my own experience, often repeated, of being cut down with fever, and carried through stifling forests and over swamps and marshes in a jolting hammock, with the rays of the scorching sun increasing the pangs of fever, and without anything to quench the burning thirst but a little muddy water. I dwelt in thought upon my last fever, when, for many weeks, my faithful husband watched over me day and night when all but he considered that I was dying, and when, by forcing liquid nourishment through my parched lips, he sought to support the flickering flame of life.
In addition to these and other scenes, which passed like a panorama before me, and over which the mind could not but ponder, was the fact that we were to go out to the heathen without salary or support; and, selling our home and property, were to use the proceeds in the initiatory operations of the Mission, and then proceed with the work until all money was gone, depending only upon God to supply all our needs.
When I thought of Him, “who was rich and who for our sakes had become poor, that we through His poverty might be made rich“; when I considered how He had redeemed my youth from frivolity and vanity, how He had saved my partner in life from atheism and infidelity, turning his life into a stream of blessing and fruitful service, I was led to sympathize with the work my husband had assigned to himself and, to an extent, with the method in which he was to carry it out.
When, however, I reflected on the trials and difficulties of such a life for a young married woman with little children, my spirit sank within me, and my heart completely failed to carry me over the untold obstacles, which seemed like mountains blocking the way. I thought off what might happen if my husband were to be murdered or die of fever. To me, it seemed almost a human impossibility to take our young children up into the interior of the continent, without some of them dying on the way through malaria or dysentery.
I considered the probability of me dying and leaving my children motherless, in a treacherous climate, and among surroundings so deadly and unwelcoming. Thoughts like these haunted me frequently. We both gave ourselves much to prayer regarding the matter for several weeks. One night, I had a vision which, in the providence of God, settled the whole matter once and for all. I am not in the ordinary sense a believer in dreams; but we know that the Lord has spoken to some of His people in visions, and that He can and does reveal His will to them, whether awake or asleep. This revelation was to me so vivid and so real, that I can never forget it: every outline of thought was clear, definite and precise.
In the vision I realized that I was in great and overwhelming darkness. No matter which way I turned, the blackness of deepest night prevailed around me, and the mind was sadly troubled, because there seemed no exit from this dense, midnight gloom. I called upon God in an agony of despair to show me the way out. Christ immediately appeared and said, “Trust yourself to Me and I will show you where to find the light." I gave myself absolutely up to Him, and then found myself rising with Him into mid-air. Then stretching out His hand, He showed me, on a distant scene, my husband standing with the rays of the sun pouring down upon him. With the power with which Christ had endowed me, I was swiftly carried to the place of light and sunshine where my husband stood. The vision was very short, but its effects were immediate and permanent. I saw that the Lord was able to carry me over every problem, and to help me in every difficulty and trial, if I would only trust myself to Him. I decided to follow the leading of God, and to make ready for Central Africa as soon as possible.
Shortly afterward we were able to sell our home and several properties, and sailed for London to purchase our outfit for Equatorial Africa. When we reached Aden, my husband received a sad message, telling the news of his father's death. It came very unexpectedly, and was a great shock to him. Very few men, I think, have been so much attached to their parents, as my husband was to his father. Nineteen years have now passed by, and the loss of that father is still intensely felt. He was very kind and warm and most generous with his children. Sixteen years before his death, he was converted to God through my husband, and for that time enjoyed the consciousness of sins forgiven and continual fellowship with his Savior. After our arrival in England, my husband spent a good deal of time in preparing lists of traveling and camping basics, and in getting some articles especially made for our journey up into the interior of Africa. The goods were all packed and shipped, and we arranged to go overland and catch our steamship at Naples. A few weeks before the time of our departure, the Lord had given to us another son: and, comparatively weak in body myself, but strong in faith, we started for Africa with our little ones, some of whom had been born in the jungle.
We boarded our steamer at Naples, and sailing down by the volcanic Island of Stromboli, which was then in active eruption, we passed through the Straits of Messina, where Etna could be seen quietly puffing out huge volumes of smoke. We soon made our way along the south of Crete and, passing through the Suez Canal, found ourselves once again in the calm, warm waters of the Red Sea. Rounding the southwestern coast of Arabia, and the Guardafui headland of Africa, our good ship bore down the Indian Ocean, and brought us once more in sight of the beautiful palm tree-covered Island of Zanzibar.
As we drew near to the coast of Africa, our hearts went up in praise to God for His loving care over us and our little children on the way out, and, as we contemplated the hidden difficulties and dangers of the distant and unknown interior, to which we were about to proceed, our hearts leaned hard upon the promise that He would never leave us, never forsake us. The sun was beaming down in all his tropical power and brilliance, on that glorious morning in 1893, when we landed at the Arab town of Mombasa, on the eastern shore of the continent of Africa. In a few hours all our supplies were clear of the ship; and, before the red disc of the sun had sunk below the horizon, we were camp in our tents, underneath the pendent fronds of the coconut palms which stretched along the beach.