White Queen of the Cannibals: The Story of Mary Slessor - A. J. Bueltmann
WHITE QUEEN
OF THE
CANNIBALS
_The Story of Mary Slessor of Calabar_
by A.J. BUELTMANN
_Contents_
1. A Drunkard's Home
2. A Brave Girl
3. In Africa
4. On Her Own
5. Into the Jungle
6. A Brave Nurse
7. Witchcraft
8. The Poison Test
9. Victories for Mary
10. A Disappointment
11. Clouds and Sunshine
12. Among the Cannibals
13. Blessings Unnumbered
14. Journey's End
#1#
_A Drunkard's Home_
"On the west coast of Africa is the country of Nigeria. The chief city is
Calabar," said Mother Slessor. "It is a dark country because the light of
the Gospel is not shining brightly there. Black people live there. Many of
these are cannibals who eat other people."
"They're bad people, aren't they, Mother?" asked little Susan.
"Yes, they are bad, because no one has told them about Jesus, the Saviour
from sin, or showed them what is right and what is wrong."
"Don't they have any missionaries out there, Mother?" asked blue-eyed Mary.
"Yes, there are a few and they are doing wonderful things for Jesus, but
there are still thousands and thousands of people who have never heard a
missionary. They need many, many more missionaries."
"When I get to be a big man, I'm going to be a missionary," said Robert,
"and preach to the black people of Calabar and Nigeria."
"I want to be a missionary; too," cried Mary, tossing her red hair about.
"Girls can't be preachers," said Robert.
"I want to preach to the black people," said Mary, the tears racing down
her cheeks.
"When I'm a missionary," said Robert, "I'll take you into the pulpit with
me."
This made Mary happy and she was much happier when Mother Slessor said,
"Perhaps you can be a teacher and teach the little black children of
Calabar. Now, children, I want to be sure you know your memory verse for
Sunday school tomorrow. Let's all say it together." And Mother Slessor and
her six children joined in saying:
Go ye into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature.
As they finished reciting the memory verse they heard a hoarse voice
singing:
Gin a body-hic, meet a body-hic,
Coming-hic, through the rye-hic.
"It's your father, children. Off to bed with you quickly now. Oh, I do hope
Robert has brought some money home with him so that we can buy some food
for tomorrow."
"Where'sh the shteps? Somebody alwaysh moving the shteps," said the father,
Robert Slessor, as he staggered drunkenly to the door.
Mother Slessor took hold of him and led him to a chair.
"Hello, dear," he said thickly. "Howsh my, besht gurl? There ish no
shoemaker's got a prettier wife-hic-than I have. Yesh shir, we drank a li'l
toash to you, my dear."
"Oh, Robert," said Mother Slessor to her husband, "I do hope you brought
home some of your paycheck. We need it badly for food. We don't have any
money in the house. All the food we have is what I kept back from the
children's supper so you could eat."
"Shure, I brought money home," said Father Slessor. "All I did wash buy my
friendsh a few drinksh."
Mother Slessor's face brightened. At least they would be able to buy
food. Her husband reached his hand into one pocket and brought it out
empty. Then into another pocket and again brought it out empty. Finally
trying several other pockets, he held out his hand with a small coin in it.
"Shee, there ya' are, I brought money home. There'sh a thrippence for ye."
"Oh, Robert!" said Mother Slessor in dismay as the tears filled her
eyes. "Oh, Robert!"
Then because she was used to these things, Mother Slessor heaved a sigh and
said quietly, "Come and eat supper, Robert."
The father staggered over to the table where Mrs. Slessor had placed the
plate of food which the children had saved out of their own small helpings,
that he might have something to eat.
"Who wants shupper?" said Father Slessor, and he threw the precious food
into the fire. He staggered to his bed and fell into drunken sleep. With a
deep sigh Mother Slessor put out the light and she, too, retired for the
night. Early the next morning she was up, preparing breakfast. Carefully
she scraped every bit of oatmeal out of the container and boiled it for
breakfast.
"Come, children, it's time to get up. Sunday school this morning," called
Mrs. Slessor. Up jumped the six little Slessors. The older ones helped the
smaller ones get dressed. When they had eaten the little oatmeal that
Mrs. Slessor had for breakfast, they lined up for inspection.
"John," declared Mrs. Slessor, "you did not wash behind your ears. Go with
Mary and let her scrub the dirt away. Now I'll put a bit of perfume on your
hankies, and here's a peppermint for each of you. There, off we go to
Sunday school and church."
Father Slessor snored in his drunken sleep, while the family went off to
hear God's Word and to sing His praises. When they returned, Father Slessor
was awake. He was sitting on the side of the bed and holding his head. He
had "morning after" sickness.
"Come, Robert," said Mrs. Slessor, "and sit up to the table. Good Elder
McDougal has given us a bit of meat and some bread, so we can eat this
day."
Father Slessor groaned, but sat up to the table and ate dinner with his
family. It wasn't much of a dinner. It would have been even less were it
not for the kindness and charity of friends, because Father Slessor had
spent all their money for drink.
After dinner the children did the dishes and ran out to play. When they
were alone, Father Slessor hung his head and said,
"Oh, my dear, what can I say? I am so ashamed. I did so want to bring my
wages home that we might have food for the children. And well--before I
knew it, my wages were spent."
"Robert," said Mrs. Slessor, "you have said again and again that 'tis your
friends who lead you astray. Would it not be well to move away to some
other town where you can find new friends who will not drink and who will
not tempt you to drink?"
"Aye, my dear, that no doubt would be the best. But where shall we go?"
"I have heard that there is plenty of work in Dundee, with the mills and
all. Let's sell our things here and move to Dundee."
"Aye, let us do that. 'Tis certain it won't be worse than here for you and
the children."
"Very well, then. I shall tell the children and we shall move before the
week is out."
When Mother Slessor went outside to call the children, she found Mary
seated on the steps with her stick dolls about her.
"Well, Mary dear, what are you doing?"
"I am the teacher and these are the black children of Calabar. I am
teaching them about Jesus. I am telling them that He saved them from their
sins."
Mother Slessor hugged her little teacher and told her about the move they
planned to make. Then the other children were called and told, too. There
was much excitement, especially when the furniture was sold and the
Slessors with their remaining possessions took the train to Dundee.
It did not take long to find a place and get settled. Mother Slessor at
once looked for a church they might attend. She found the Wishart Church,
named for the famous preacher, George Wishart, who in 1544 had preached
near the place where the church was built. Shortly afterward he was killed
for preaching about Jesus.
But Father Slessor did not do better in the new home. He could not overcome
the drink habit, and probably did not try very hard to overcome it. In the
meantime a new baby came to the Slessor home. They called the baby
Janie. How happy her brothers and sisters were to welcome Janie! Mother
Slessor was not altogether happy because she knew there was another mouth
to feed. Father Slessor promised to give up drinking, but that did not mean
anything, because he never kept those promises.
The money they got from selling their furniture in Aberdeen slowly melted
away. Sickness came to the Slessor home. Robert Junior, who was going to be
a missionary to Calabar, became sick and died. Two other of the children
also died, and only Mary, Susan, John, and Janie were left. But even that
did not make Father Slessor give up his drinking. The Slessors had less
and less money to buy food. At last Mrs. Slessor went to work in one of the
factories. Mary had to take care of the home. But the wages Mrs. Slessor
received were very small. Somehow they had to find ways of getting more
money. When she was eleven years old Mary went to work in the factory,
too. Would she ever get a chance to be a missionary or must she give up
that dream?
"Mary, Mary," called Mrs. Slessor, "it's five o'clock. Time to get up and
go to work."
"Ho, hum," said Mary, "I'm still tired, but I'll get right up. I don't want
to be late!"
At six o'clock in the morning Mary was at work. She had to tend to the
shuttles on the weaving machines. The weaving sheds where Mary worked were
damp and dark. All morning long she heard the whirring of the belts and the
clacking of the looms. In the afternoon she went to school. By the time she
was fourteen years old she was an expert weaver. She now began to work
full time.
The hours were long. Twelve hours every day for six days a week the
fourteen-year-old girl worked in the factory. And the pay was very
small. But it was a joy when she received her pay on Saturday night. Mary
hurried home.
"Mother, Mother," she called happily as she hurried into the house, "here
is the money I earned this week."
"Oh, Mary, that is so good of you," said Mother Slessor. She wiped tears
from her eyes with the end of her apron. She felt sad that Mary had to work
in a factory. She thought of her own childhood in a happy home where there
was always plenty to eat and plenty of money to buy things that were
needed. She quickly hid Mary's wages in the same place where she hid her
own wages, so that her husband would not find the money and spend it for
drink.
Mary did not lose courage by the long hours in the factory. She remembered
that David Livingstone, the great missionary, had worked in a weaving
factory, too.
"If I want to be a missionary, I must study," said Mary. "When can I find
time?" Again Mary remembered something David Livingstone did when he was a
boy. He would take books to work and read them when the weaving shuttles
were working right and did not have to have someone attend to them. Mary
did the same thing. She read many books from the Sunday school library. She
read books like Milton's _Paradise Lost_. But most of all she read the
Bible.
Conditions at home grew worse. Mary's drunken father became meaner and
meaner. Saturday nights were the worst. Mary and her mother would sit
waiting, after the younger children had been put to bed, for the father to
stumble home. One night he was so mean to Mary, she had to run out of the
house to get away from him. The whole family was unhappy because of
Mr. Slessor's sinful habit. Finally, one morning he did not waken from the
drunken sleep. In the night his soul fled to face the Judge in Heaven. The
death of the father was really a great blessing to the family, for he had
brought them only sorrow and trouble.
Now the family felt free. The load they had borne was lifted. Mary at once
began to take a more active part in church work.
"If I want to be a missionary, I better have some practice. I know what I
can do, I'll ask the Sunday school superintendent for a class to teach."
She did, and was given a class of girls. She enjoyed teaching the girls
very much. She called them her "lovable lassies."
But Mary was not satisfied. She wanted to get more practice.
On her way home from the factory Mary passed through the slums of the
city. Mary herself did not live in a fine house; in fact, it was a very
poor one. But in the slums the children lived in small, dark
apartments. The streets on which they played were narrow and dirty. The
children here did not know about the Saviour. They grew up rough and tough,
cursing, swearing, stealing, and doing many mean things. Mary's heart ached
for these children of the slums. She wanted to teach them that Jesus could
make them happy. She talked with many people about it.
At last her church opened a mission in the worst part of the slums. Mary
went to the superintendent.
"I want to teach a class in our mission," said Mary. "I am sure you can use
me better there than you can here."
"But Mary," said the superintendent, "you are doing a fine job here in the
church; why do you want to go to the mission?"
"There are many who will gladly teach a class here at the church, but not
so many who are willing to teach at the mission. I am willing. I will teach
there if you will give me a class. Please do."
"But Mary, those children are tough and mean. You couldn't handle them. You
could not make them behave. You are hardly more than a child yourself."
"Oh, please let me try," said Mary, "I do so want to tell those boys and
girls about my Saviour. Please let me try. Then if I don't make good, you
can get someone else in my place."
"Very well," said the superintendent, "I will give you a class, but I warn
you those children are tough and mean and hard to handle."
#2#
_A Brave Girl_
"Quit pestering us to come to church. If you don't let us alone, we'll
hurt you," shouted Duncan, the leader of a group of tough boys in the
slums.
Mary prayed God to make her brave and then said, "I will not stop trying to
get you to come to church. I will not stop trying to tell you about Jesus,
the Saviour. Do whatever you like."
These boys had often tried to interrupt and break up the services, but Mary
went out into the streets and tried to persuade and coax the young people
to come and hear the Word of God.
"All right then," said Duncan. "Here goes." He took a piece of lead from
his pocket and tied it to a long string. He began to swing it around his
head. Each time he whirled the lead, it came closer to Mary's face. Mary
did not move. The gang watched. They held their breath as it came closer
and closer to her blue eyes. Mary did not blink. Finally, it grazed her
forehead. Still Mary did not move. Duncan dropped the piece of lead to the
ground.
"We can't scare her, boys," he said. "She's game."
"There is Someone who is far braver than I am. He's the One who makes me
brave. Won't you come to the services and hear about Him?" asked Mary.
"All right, Spunky, I will," said Duncan. "And the rest of the fellows
will, too. Come on, boys, we're going to the church tonight and no funny
business."
This was not the only time that Mary had to face the tough boys and girls
of the slums. But she had a Friend who was closer to her than even her
dear mother. He made her strong and brave and true. Mary loved her Saviour,
and was ready to do whatever He might want her to do.
Her class grew larger all the time. She visited the members in their slum
homes. She fitted herself into the family. If the baby needed tending, she
tended to it. If someone was sick, she helped to nurse the sick person.
Always she told the family about Christ and His power to save. The people
of the slums came to love this home missionary and many of them were won to
Christ through her work.
The years went by. Did Mary still remember she wanted to be a missionary in
Calabar? Yes, she remembered, but now she had all she could do to support
her family. Since Robert, the would-be missionary, had died, Mother Slessor
hoped that her youngest son John would be a missionary. But God had other
plans. John became sick. He was sent to New Zealand for his health, but
died when he arrived in that country. Was there to be no missionary from
the Slessor family?
Whenever missionaries came to the Wishart Church or to Dundee, Mother
Slessor, Mary, Susan and Janie would go to hear them. At home they would
read the stories of missionaries and their work. They read missionary
magazines. They read about the missionaries in China, Africa, Japan, India,
and even Calabar.
One day William Anderson, a missionary to the West Coast of Africa, came to
the little church. He told of the great need for missionaries in Africa. He
told of the bad things which the people did who did not know Jesus.
Sitting in church, listening to the missionary, Mary saw in her mind a
picture of Africa. It was not a beautiful picture. She saw captured Negroes
being taken to other lands as slaves. She saw alligators and crocodiles
swimming in the muddy waters, ever ready to eat black children who would
come too close to the river. She saw cannibal chiefs at their terrible
feasts and fearful battles with spears and arrows. She saw villages where
trembling prisoners dipped their hands in boiling oil to test their guilt;
where wives were killed to go with their dead chief into the
spiritland. But these things did not frighten the Scottish girl who was
afraid to cross a field if a cow was in it. She longed to go to Africa.
"Why don't I become a missionary?" Mary asked herself as she worked the
looms in the factory. "Can I leave my home? Does Mother still need my help?
Susan and Janie are working now. They could get along without me. But will
I be brave enough? There are tropical jungles, and black men who eat
people. There are wild animals, sicknesses, and death. God can make me
brave to face all of these things."
Mary prayed, "O God, if it is Your will, let me go as a missionary to
Calabar. Let me be a teacher to teach these black people the story of
salvation. You have commanded us, Your disciples, to carry the Gospel to
the farthest parts of the earth. Use me, O Lord, to help carry it to
Calabar. Hear me, for the sake of Jesus, my Saviour."
It was 1874. The news flashed around the world: "Livingstone is dead." The
great missionary had died on his knees in Africa. Everywhere people were
talking of this great man who had given his life to tell the people of
Africa about the Saviour. Mary made up her mind! She must go to Calabar!
But what would her mother say? And if her mother agreed, would her church
send her out to that field? Mary went to her mother.
"I want to offer myself as a missionary," said Mary Slessor to her
mother. "Are you willing?"
"My child, I'll willingly let you go. You'll make a fine missionary, and
I'm sure God will be with you."
"Thank you, Mother," said twenty-six-year-old Mary. "I know God will be
with me and will make me strong and brave to serve Him."
Mother Slessor was very happy. There was going to be a missionary in the
family after all. But there were some people who did not agree with Mother
Slessor. They shook their heads in doubt. Others thought Mary was very
foolish to risk her life in that way.
"You're doing real well at the factory," said one of them. "And you're
doing missionary work right down there at the mission. Why rush away to
those people way off in Africa? Seems to me missionary work ought to begin
at home."
"Yes," said Mary, "it should begin there, but not end there. There are some
who cannot go to Africa. They can do the work at home. If God lets me, I
want to take His Word to those people who have never heard of Him or His
love."
The next year, 1875, Mary offered herself to the Foreign Mission Board of
her church. She asked to be sent to Calabar. Then she waited. Waiting is
hard sometimes. Mary had to wait until the Board had a meeting. Then when
the meeting was over, she had to wait for the secretary of the Board of
Foreign Missions to write her a letter. Early in 1876 the letter came. How
excited Mary was! Her hands shook as she tried to open the letter. Had they
accepted her offer or refused it?
"Mary dear," said her mother, "you are so nervous, you had better let me
open that letter."
"I'll manage, Mother," said Mary. She finally got it open, and she read:
Dear Miss Slessor, I take great pleasure
in informing you that the Board of
Foreign Missions accepts your offer to
serve as a missionary, and you have been
appointed teacher to Calabar. You will
continue your studies for the teaching
profession at Dundee. May God richly
bless you in His service.
"Oh, Mother, I'm accepted! They're going to send me to Calabar!"
"Praise God from whom all blessings flow," said Mother Slessor. "That is
wonderful news indeed. To Calabar! Oh, I'm so happy I could shout for joy!"
In March another letter came. This letter told her that she was to spend
three months at a teachers' college in Edinburgh. All Mary's friends in
Dundee gathered at the train as she got ready to leave for Edinburgh.
"Come, Mary," said Duncan, the tough boy from the slums, who was now a
grown man and a faithful worker at the mission, "give us a speech."
"I can't make a speech," said Mary, "but I'll just ask you this: Pray for
me."
While Mary was at the school in Edinburgh, some of the other girls she met
there tried to talk her out of being a missionary. They did not want her
to go off to Africa where there were wild animals and man-eating heathen,
and all kinds of terrible sicknesses.
"Don't you know that Calabar is the white man's grave?" asked one of her
school friends.
"Yes," answered Mary. "But it is also a post of honor. Since few volunteer
for that section, I wish to go because my Master needs me there."
At last the time had come for Mary to leave for Africa. For fourteen long
years she had worked at the looms in the weaving factory. As she worked,
she had dreamed of Calabar. Now her dream was going to come true. Mary went
to the city of Liverpool. There she went on board the ship, the "S. S.
Ethiopia." As she got on board she looked around. Everywhere were barrels
of whiskey.
"Hundreds of barrels of whiskey, but only one missionary," said Mary sadly.
The boat whistle blew. The engines chugged. The "S. S. Ethiopia" was on
its way. It was August 5, 1876. Mary saw the shoreline of Scotland become
dimmer and dimmer. She looked forward to seeing the coast of Africa and the
land of Calabar.
"At last I am on my way to Calabar," said Mary Slessor as the
"S. S. Ethiopia," sailed southward. "How Mother would like to be with me!
How often she prayed that God would send more missionaries to Calabar. I
didn't think then that I would really be one of them."
It did not take Mary long to make friends on board the ship. Among the
friends she made were Mr. and Mrs. Thomson.
"So you are going to Calabar," said Mr. Thomson. "Aren't you afraid of
that wild country?"
"Oh, no," said Mary, "because God is with me. He will take care of
me. Jesus said, 'Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world,'
and I am trusting in His promise."
"Do you know what this country is like?" asked Mrs. Thomson.
"Only what I have read about it," said Mary. "You've been there before,
haven't you?"
"Yes, we have," said Mrs. Thomson. "My husband wants to build a home where
tired missionaries can rest and rebuild their strength for their wonderful
work. He has explored the West Coast and chosen the Cameroon Mountains as
the place for that home. We are going there now to build this home for
missionaries. Missionary work in Africa is so hard that missionaries need a
place where they can rest from time to time."
"I think that's wonderful of you!" said Mary. "I know the Lord will bless
the work you are doing. Won't you tell me about Africa?"
"Well," said Mr. Thomson, "the climate is very hot. The sun is so strong
and hot that white people don't dare go out without a hat to protect their
heads. The rivers are very muddy and often flow through dark, gloomy swamps
that white people can hardly get through."
"But often," broke in Mrs. Thomson, "there are beautiful green banks with
the most beautiful flowers. You will see the prettiest birds in all the
world dressed in the brightest reds and greens and blues and purples. You
will see the long-legged cranes and the funny pelicans with their big
beaks."
"And don't forget the man-eating crocodiles that are swimming in the river
or lying on the banks. They look like an old log, but if you get near them,
look out! They seem lazy and slow, but they can snap off a leg or drag you
into the river as quick as a wink. Then in the jungles are the lions, and
elephants, and other wild animals."
"I am most frightened of the swift and terrible tornadoes," said
Mrs. Thomson.
"And, Miss Slessor," said Mr. Thomson, "don't forget that the natives are
wild and fierce and many of them are cannibals who would be glad to eat
you."
"I shall not fear," said Mary. "God is leading me. He is my good
Shepherd. He can protect me from fierce beasts and the wild people. I am
happy He has chosen me to bring the messages of the Saviour to these wild
people. He will call me home to Him when the work He has for me is
done. Till then nothing can really harm me."
Four weeks passed. The ship was plowing through the tropical sea. The air
was warm, but the sea breezes made it very pleasant. The ship turned
landward and soon Mary could see the shore of Africa. How thrilled and
happy she was--Africa at last! On September 11 the ship entered the
tumbling, whirling waters of the Cross and Calabar Rivers which here joined
and poured into the sea. Mary had read about these rivers, and now she
actually saw them. She saw, too, the pelicans and the cranes. She saw
crocodiles, about which Mr. Thomson had told her, lazily slide off the
sandbanks into the muddy waters of the river.