“They may have escaped to the mountains,” he observed. “We will go there. I can find the path even in the dark, and there is a cavern not far up, where they may have taken shelter. Once, when we were devil’s people, we dreaded to enter it, thinking it the abode of evil spirits; now that we are God’s people, we know that God is everywhere, and have no fear.”
Again I felt how the remark of this babe in Christ, this late savage heathen, would rebuke many of those in our own dear England who, even in this professedly enlightened nineteenth century, yet tremble at the thoughts of ghosts, witches, and other similar phantoms of their foolish imaginations.
It appeared to me that the hurricane was subsiding; but still our progress was slow and painful. It was, however, an advantage having a beaten path, though that in many places was cut up by the water, and in others, trees and roofs of cottages had been blown across it. I found that we were ascending,—higher and higher up the mountain we got. Lofty rocks appeared on every side,—the lightning seemed to be more vivid,—the crash of the thunder, as it reverberated in rattling peals amid the cliffs, was even louder than before. I remembered my companion’s remark, and felt no fear.
“There is the cavern,” he said, at length.
I hurried in through a narrow opening, following closely at his heels. A light was shining at the farther end: it was from a fire, round which a number of persons were collected. On the opposite side, with the light shining full on his countenance, stood my brother John. A book was in his hand,—the book of books undoubtedly. His eyes were turned toward heaven: he was praying for the safety of all those exposed to the fury of the tempest. My own name was mentioned. I advanced, and knelt down by the side of my own Mary. “God hears prayer,” I whispered. “He has preserved me.”
She soon lay in my arms, weeping tears of joy. I now learned that no sooner had the signs of the coming tempest appeared than several of the principal natives came to the mission-house, and advised John to remove his family, with his books, and such articles as the water might spoil, to a place of safety, offering to assist him. Of this kindness he gladly availed himself; but the journey was not performed without great danger and difficulty, as the tempest broke before they had proceeded far, and the wind and floods impeded their progress. Mary suffered most, from her anxiety for me. Now we praised God together joyfully for the preservation he had awarded us.
It was daylight before we were able again to set forward to return to my brother’s now desolate home. Still we could rejoice, and be thankful that none of those most dear to us had been lost. We hoped that the poor natives might have escaped as well; but we had not descended far through the lower ground before we found one crushed by a fallen tree, and another drowned in a water-hole, into which he had apparently stumbled. The lightning had struck a third whose blackened corpse we found beneath a tall tree stripped of its branches. These were beyond human help.
“Grant that they died in the Lord,” observed the missionary, as we noted the spots where they lay, that we might send and bury them.
The numbers wandering houseless and without food most claimed our sympathy. Our worst apprehensions were realised. In the late neat and pretty village not a cottage retained its roof, and by far the greater number lay levelled with the ground, some mere heaps of ruin, while of others not a remnant was to be seen, the whole building having been carried off by the floods or wind. Of the church only part of the walls remained standing; and even the heavier timbers of the roof lay scattered about in every direction. This destruction naturally deeply affected the missionary. “Still I pray that the faith and trust of the people will not be found wanting under this trial,” he murmured as we passed on.
The school-houses were much in the same condition; but happily the printing-office, a strong stone building, had escaped any serious damage, as had its valuable contents. Here not only was printing carried on, but the Bibles and other books were stored, as were the machines for binding, a work performed very neatly by the natives. This circumstance again raised my brother’s spirits: “While the Book of God remains, we have nought to fear.”