“But should I go thither, it is a most painful reflection that I must go alone, and also uncertain of the means of support. But I will trust in God. He has frequently enabled me to praise His divine goodness, and will never forsake those who put their trust in Him. I am, dear sir,
“Yours, in the Lord Jesus,
“Adoniram Judson, Jr.”
On September 6th, Mr. and Mrs. Judson were baptized in Calcutta by the Rev. Mr. Ward, and, on the first of November, Mr. Rice, one of his missionary associates, who, though sailing on a different vessel, had experienced a similar change of sentiment, was also baptized. “Mr. Rice was thought,” Dr. Carey says, “to be the most obstinate friend of Pedobaptism of any of the missionaries.”
But becoming a Baptist was only the beginning of troubles for these missionaries. India was ruled by the East India Company, which was opposed to the introduction of missionaries, especially of Americans—for England and America were not at that time on friendly terms. Besides, the English feared that the natives of India, finding themselves beset by the missionaries of a foreign religion, and their own sacred institutions undermined, would rise against the whole English race, and a war ensue which would be rendered more intense by the spirit of religious fanaticism. The Oriental meekly submits to oppression, except when religious questions are involved; it was the greased cartridge which brought on the Sepoy rebellion. The English authorities feared, as was once stated in the House of Lords, “that every missionary would have to be backed by a gun-boat.” There might arise endless complications, and they determined to nip the danger in the bud.
Mr. and Mrs. Judson and Mr. Rice were peremptorily ordered to repair from Serampore to Calcutta. When they appeared at the Government House they were told that they must return at once to America. They asked leave to settle in some other part of India, but this was refused. They then asked if they could go to the Isle of France (Mauritius). This request was granted; but the only ship sailing at that time for that point could convey but two passengers, and, by common consent, Mr. and Mrs. Newell embarked. Mr. and Mrs. Judson and Mr. Rice remained behind for another vessel. After two months, they received an order to go on board one of the Company’s vessels, bound for England, and their names were even printed in the official list of passengers. But a vessel, named the Creole, was just about to sail for the Isle of France. They applied to the Government for a passport. This was refused. Then they asked the captain if he would take them without a passport. He said, good-naturedly, “There was his ship; they could go on board if they pleased.” They immediately embarked under cover of the night. But while sailing down the Hugli River from Calcutta to the sea, they were overtaken by a Government dispatch. The pilot was forbidden to go farther, as there were persons on board who had been ordered to England. They were put ashore on the bank of the river, and took shelter at a little tavern, while the vessel continued her course down the river without them.
After three or four days, however, a letter came from Calcutta, containing the much-desired passport to sail on the Creole. Who procured the passport, has always remained a mystery. But now they had every reason to suppose that the vessel had got out to sea. She might, however, be anchored at Saugur, seventy miles below. With all haste they put their baggage in a boat, and sped down the river. They had to row against the tide, but arrived at Saugur before the evening of the next day, and had the happiness of finding the vessel at anchor. “I never enjoyed,” says Mrs. Judson, “a sweeter moment in my life, than that when I was sure we were in sight of the Creole!” After a voyage of six weeks they arrived in Port Louis, on the Isle of France, January 17, 1813.
The Isle of France, or Mauritius,[[6]] lies in the Indian Ocean, 480 miles east of Madagascar. It is about 36 miles long and 32 wide. It had, only a few years before, been wrested from the French by the English. During the wars between the French and English it had furnished harborage for the French privateers, which, sallying forth from its ports, attacked the richly-freighted English merchantmen on their way from India.
The Isle of France, the scene of St. Pierre’s pathetic tale of “Paul and Virginia,” was to our missionaries also, who took refuge here, a place of sorrow. They learned of a death which rivals in pathos the fate of Virginia. Mrs. Harriet Newell, the first American martyr to Foreign Missions, had only just survived the tempestuous voyage from Calcutta, and had been laid in the “heathy ground” of Mauritius: one who “for the love of Christ and immortal souls, left the bosom of her friends, and found an early grave in a land of strangers.” She never repented leaving her native country. When informed by her physician of her approaching death, she lifted up her hands in triumph, and exclaimed: “Oh, glorious intelligence!”[[7]]
What a sense of desolation must have crept over the little band of missionaries, now that death had so early broken into their ranks! On February 24th Mr. Newell embarked for Ceylon, and on the 15th of March Mr. Rice sailed for America, in order to preach a missionary crusade among the Baptist churches there; and thus Mr. and Mrs. Judson were left alone. They were obliged to remain about four months on the Isle of France; and while much of their time was spent in self-sacrificing labors among the English soldiers that formed the garrison of the island, the missionaries still longed to reach their final destination. Mrs. Judson writes: “Oh, when will my wanderings terminate? When shall I find some little spot that I can call my own?” Her mother’s ominous words, uttered long ago, were coming true. She was, indeed, having her fill of “rambling.” They had left America nearly fifteen months before, and yet after all their journeyings they seemed no nearer a field of labor than when they first set out. Their destination was still a mirage—an ever-dissolving view.