And then the missionary spoke outright of his dilemma, and Mr Chung went to the Prefect of the town and enlisted him on their side. The carters were sent for.
“You would not go,” said the Prefect, “when this man offered you a great sum of money,” it sounded quite Biblical as he told it. “Now you will go for the ordinary charge or I will take off your heads.”
So two carts were got, and the missionary, his wife, and children, and as much of their household goods as they could take, were hustled into them, and they started off for the nearest port.
“If ever I am in a hole again I hope I travel with such women,” said the missionary; “they were as cheerful as if it was a picnic-party.”
All went well for a couple of days, and then one day, passing through a town, a man came up and addressed them, and said he was servant to some Englishmen, a couple of mining engineers, who were held up in this town, because they had heard there was an ambush laid for all foreigners a little farther down the road. And the missionaries had thought they were the last foreigners left in the country!
They promptly sought out the Englishmen, who confirmed the boy's story. It was not safe to go farther. The little party decided to stick together, and finally the missionary went to the Prefect and told him how the Prefect at Pa Kou had helped them, and suggested it would be wise to do likewise, especially as the foreigners were sure to win in the end.
The Prefect considered the matter and finally promised to help them, provided they put themselves entirely in his hands and said nothing, no matter what they heard. It seemed a desperate thing to do to put themselves entirely in the hands of their enemies, but it was the only chance, that chance or Buckley's and Buckley, says the Australian proverb, never had a chance. They agreed to the Prefect's terms; he set a guard of soldiers over them, and they travelled surrounded by them. But at first they were very doubtful whether they had been wise in trusting a man who was to all intents and purposes an open enemy.
“Where did you get them?” asked the people of the soldiers as they passed. And the soldiers detailed at length their capture.
“And what are you going to do with them?” And the soldiers always said that, by the orders of the Prefect of the town where they had been captured, they were taking them on to be delivered over to the proper authorities, who would know what to do with them, doubtless the least that could happen would be that they would have their heads taken off.
And the man who told me the story had lived through such days as that. Had seen his wife and children live through them!