CHAPTER IV.
LANDED AT LAST.
If the Missionaries hoped that they would now in peace and tolerable comfort pursue their voyage to their long desired haven, they were to be sadly disappointed. It seemed as if wind and waves joined together to keep them back from India. The experience of the Duffs in the "Moira" was not to be very unlike theirs in the poor wrecked "Lady Holland."
Contrary winds drove the vessel far out of her course, increasing to such a hurricane that she nearly went down into the depths of the sea. Not till the end of May did the poor half exhausted travellers see the little pilot ship which was to guide them up the Hoogly to Calcutta at last.
In thought we can see the missionary Duff, with his tall form, handsome face, animated manner and sparkling eyes, standing on the deck, and pointing out to his wife the distant land beyond the heaving waters, and crying out, "That is our India, yonder is our future battle-field, so long hoped for, so long desired!"
The long muddy flat of Saugar island indeed was nothing beautiful to look at, yet was full of interest, and welcome was the sound of dropping anchor in the rapid stream which flows by its shore.
The long ocean-voyage was over, but the river had its perils as great as those of the ocean. See how the clouds in big black masses gather before the sun. Make ready, brave sailors, a storm is coming, and will be upon you soon! It came—the terrible monsoon in all its fury! In vain had three anchors been thrown out from the "Moira," anchors and cables cannot hold her; like a baited animal breaking loose from the stake, she struggles on the furious whirling waters. Driven before the roaring gust, the "Moira" is hurled on a mud-bank, she is in a position of awful peril. Nothing can be done to save her, for not even moonlight now relieves the horrors of the darkness only lit up by flashes of lightning!
Has the missionary come so far, and already endured so much only to perish close to the land which he has vainly tried to reach! It was a terrible night indeed, and with the wild monsoon sweeping around them, thus helplessly "standed," how anxiously must the poor passengers in the "Moira" have waited for daybreak! It came at last, and there was at least light enough to show them their danger.
The appearance of the river was very fearful; the wind, whirling round in cyclone gusts, raised columns of water which broke into foaming cataracts. What had been land was so flooded that it looked like a widening of the river. Yet to reach it was the travellers' best chance of safety. There was a large tree not far off standing out of the water. By swimming, some men managed to carry a rope from the ship to it, which they could fasten to its branches. Along this rope a boat was moved to the tree, and by its means the travellers were "landed" on Saugar island, if that term can be used when they had to stand up to their waists in water!
Oh! What a close to a long toilsome voyage, what a rude welcome to India! Battered by the gale, drenched to the skin, the twice shipwrecked Duffs with their companions struggled on till they came to the first Hindu village which they hoped to enter, and find at least a little rest in some hut however mean. But alas! From prejudices of caste, the villagers would not take the poor weary ones in! Here was a trial of faith and patience. Doubtless Duff felt far less for himself than for his loving faithful wife. Turned back from the village, the shipwrecked sufferers took refuge in a temple, and there, drenched with mud, in a terrible state of exhaustion after the fearful night, the Missionary pair remained for a while.
When the tidings of their state reached Calcutta, help was quickly sent. After some time dinghy boats began to appear; in one of these Mr. Duff and his patient wife at last reached Calcutta, the city of palaces, where by a Scotch clergyman they were hospitably received. The journey from London to Calcutta with such a succession of disasters, had taken them more than "eight months" to accomplish. When the natives of India heard of the perils surmounted by the Missionary Duff, the remark was made, "Surely this man is a favorite of the gods who must have some notable work for him to do in India."
What Duff himself thought of his troubles may be seen by what he wrote in a letter on the day following that of his arrival in Calcutta.
"The loss of earthly comfort and possession is a rich gain indeed, when accompanied by the increase of that treasure which nothing can diminish. Where is faith without a victory? Where is victory without a struggle? And can there be a struggle without enduring trials and encountering difficulties? To us, we would pray, be the toil and the hardship and the danger, and the crown of victory for our reward, or death when maintaining our Master's cause, for an eternal glory."
Before this, Alexander Duff had written in reference to his large stock of books and valuable papers lost in the shipwreck of the "Lady Holland":—
"They are gone, and blessed be God, I can say gone without a murmur. So perish all earthly things; the treasure which is laid up in Him alone is unassailable. God has been to me a God full of mercy, and not the least of His mercies do I find in cheerful resignation."
Thus "Faith turns the sands of life to gold."
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