7. The Stranger
Chapter 7
The Stranger
Be quiet,” a low male voice came from the crowd. “Be quiet or they’ll blow your head off.”
Adoniram stopped yelling long enough to look around. Who had spoken to him in English?
“Over here,” the voice came again.
Adoniram turned and stared into the face of an American military officer.
“What’s your name?” the officer asked Adoniram as he walked along keeping pace with the prisoners. “What are you doing here?”
Now that Adoniram had found someone to listen to him, he lowered his voice and quickly told his story to the military officer.
“I’ll try to help. Be patient,” the officer said as he faded into the jeering crowd.
Now as Adoniram marched along the cobblestone street he had some hope. An American man out there knew who he was and that he needed help. But would it be enough? Would the man really go out of his way to help a stranger? Adoniram would have to wait and see.
When the prisoners from the Packet finally reached the prison, they were thrown into a dungeon. As he sat with his back against a damp, moss-covered brick wall, Adoniram prayed that the stranger would not forget him.
Several hours passed. Adoniram guessed it was about seven o’clock at night—though he had no way of knowing for sure—when the door to the dungeon creaked open. Framed against the oil light in the hallway was the stranger, wearing a billowing military cloak. He spoke in French to the jailer, who stepped forward and grabbed a lamp off a hook on the wall. The jailer grunted as he handed the lamp to the stranger.
Adoniram sat silently, hugging his knees and watching every move. The stranger walked slowly around the cell, shining the lamp up to the faces of the prisoners. “Non,” he said as he peered at each face. When he came to Adoniram, he held up the lamp briefly and again said, “Non.”
The jailer spoke a few sentences in French. The stranger nodded and turned to hang the lamp back on the hook on the wall. As he did so, he swirled his cloak around Adoniram.
Adoniram felt the cloak enfold him, and in a flash he understood the stranger’s daring plan. He crouched beneath the cloak and clasped his arms around the man’s waist. He felt the man begin to walk, and Adoniram matched his footsteps. As they “walked” out of the dungeon, Adoniram heard the wooden door thump shut behind them, and then he heard the clink of coins being handed over. “Just a bit farther,” he heard the American military officer whisper.
Half squatting, half standing under the huge cloak, Adoniram walked step for step with the stranger to the front of the prison, where more money was handed over. Then, with the clang of the metal gate behind him, Adoniram knew he was out in the open street. The American man whipped the cloak off him and whispered “Follow me” as he set off running down the street. Adoniram followed the man through the darkness until they reached the docks.
“Over here,” the stranger said. “Quickly, they have the gangplank lowered for us.”
The two men sprinted up the gangplank and onto the deck of a sloop.
“You’ll be safe here,” the American officer said. “I’ve made arrangements for the captain to hide you. Get out of France as soon as you can.” With that the man turned and hurried off back the way he had come.
Adoniram stood on the deck, breathless and amazed. Less than an hour ago he had been in a dark, damp dungeon. Now he was aboard a ship, staring up at a starry night! And what was more, he had no idea who the man was or why he had helped him.
It took Adoniram until May, four months after setting sail from Boston, to finally reach London. Nevertheless, Adoniram was pleased to learn he had arrived at a good time. The governing board of the London Missionary Society was about to hold its annual meeting, and it was happy to allow Adoniram time to present the American Board’s case for support directly to the board. Also, a letter of encouragement from the American Board, plus money for the passage home, was waiting for the young missionary-to-be.
Adoniram immediately sent a letter of thanks back to the American Board. Then he set about preparing his presentation. It was not until he was actually repeating what he had been sent to say that he realized just how unlikely it was that his proposal would be accepted. Basically, he was telling the London Missionary Society that four young, inexperienced American men would like to be sent out as American missionaries. However, Adoniram explained, since they had no money and it seemed unlikely they could raise it, they wanted the London Missionary Society to sponsor them while leaving the control of where they went and what they did there in the hands of the American Board.
The members of the governing board of the London Missionary Society (LMS) listened politely to what Adoniram had to say. When he was done, they told him that while they admired his enthusiasm, there was no way the London Missionary Society was going to pass over English missionaries to sponsor foreigners over whom they would have little or no authority. Adoniram could see their point, and he began to think of an alternate plan. More than anything he wanted to get to the mission field, and he didn’t much care who sponsored him. So he asked the London Missionary Society if they would send him and the three other missionary candidates out as LMS missionaries and not involve the American Board. He argued that it was more important for him to go than to be officially known as an American missionary. After some discussion, the London Missionary Society agreed to the request. If the other three missionary candidates agreed, the LMS would send all four of them out, and the American Board would have to find some other way to support the missionaries it wanted to send out.
Adoniram had what he wanted as he boarded the Augustus in June 1811, bound for New York City. He had found a way to get himself and his three friends to East Asia as missionaries. Yet he couldn’t help feeling disappointed that in all the United States there was not enough interest in missions to be able to sponsor four missionaries.
When he reached New York, Adoniram was tempted to catch a stagecoach straight back to Massachusetts, but something had bothered him on the voyage home, something he had to take care of before he went one step farther.
The last time he had been in New York was three years earlier, when he had joined up with a group of swindlers masquerading as a troop of actors. Now it was time to pay back all the people he had cheated during that time. He told himself there was no point in being a missionary if he left unpaid debts at home. It took him three days to track down all the innkeepers he owed money to, and much to their surprise, he paid each one of them back. When he had finished, his conscience was clear and he felt free to go home.
Some encouraging news was waiting for Adoniram when he finally got back to Massachusetts. Mr. Norris, who had helped pay Adoniram’s passage to London, had from the start been a strong supporter of the idea to send out American foreign missionaries. He had died while Adoniram was away, and he had left thirty thousand dollars to the American Board.
“Thirty thousand dollars!” gasped Adoniram when he heard the news. “That’s more than enough to send out four missionaries and their wives. We will be able to go out with the American Board after all.”
Adoniram wished he could start planning right away with Samuel Newell and Gordon Hall, but they were both in Philadelphia studying medicine as a way to better prepare themselves for missionary work. The four missionaries-to-be had decided to make their way to India and from there see what missionary opportunities awaited them in the Far East. Of course, there was no doubt in Adoniram’s mind as to where he was headed. God was calling him to Burma.
Adoniram also had something else he wanted to discuss with Samuel Newell. While Adoniram had been away, Samuel had become engaged to one of Ann’s closest friends, seventeen-year-old Harriet Atwood. Ann was very excited about the idea, because now she would have someone to discuss “female” things with on the mission field. Adoniram wasn’t so sure it was a good idea, though. Harriet was a slightly built young woman who had previously suffered from tuberculosis. To him she looked as though a good puff of ocean breeze would blow her right off the deck of the ship! He wondered how she would even survive a sea voyage to India, let alone worry about what lay ahead at the other end.
Time began to drag for Adoniram, who was eager to be on his way. But John Norris’s will had been contested by some members of his family, and although it seemed certain the American Board would prevail in court and get the money promised it, it all took time. To make matters worse, the newspapers were reporting that the United States was about to go to war with England. When that happened, all merchant shipping would stop. After reading this, leaving became a matter of urgency for Adoniram, who felt that if he didn’t go now, he might never go. After several days of discussions with the slow-moving missions board, it was finally agreed that until the inheritance was made available, the board should seek some other way to raise the money the missionaries would need.
The minutes of the meeting of the American Board that day recorded, “Messrs. Adoniram Judson Jr., Samuel Nott Jr., Samuel Newell, and Gordon Hall were appointed missionaries to labor under the direction of this board in Asia, either in the Burman Empire, or in Surat, or in Prince of Wales Island, or elsewhere, as in view of the Prudential Committee, Providence shall open by the most favorable door.”
At the same meeting it was also decided that the missionaries should be allotted $666.66 a year if they were married and $444.45 if they were single, plus the same amount to equip themselves to go and $300 extra for books. It was a generous amount of money to offer. Of course, outside of waiting for the money from Mr. Norris’s will, no one knew where the allotments would come from.
As 1811 rolled on and the vibrant colors of fall gave way to a particularly harsh winter, Adoniram became more concerned about the war brewing between England and the United States. Already New York harbor was under a British blockade. Finally, in mid-January 1812, a message reached Adoniram. Samuel Newell had located a ship, the Harmony, which was headed from Philadelphia to Calcutta, India, and the captain had permission to transport the missionaries to India. Adoniram and Ann raced into action. This was the opportunity they had been waiting for, and they both knew it might be the last ship leaving American waters for a very long time.
Adoniram made a rushed trip home to Plymouth to say good-bye to his parents and to Abigail and Elnathan. It was a difficult time for them all. His family was convinced they would never see him again. Early on Monday morning, February 3, 1812, Adoniram said a final good-bye to his parents and Abigail before mounting his horse to ride back to Bradford. Eighteen-year-old Elnathan accompanied his older brother as far as Boston before wishing him well and turning his horse around to head back home. Adoniram rode on alone through thick snow to Bradford to meet with Ann.
It was time to get married—quickly. A crowd joined twenty-three-year-old Adoniram and twenty-two-year-old Ann as they exchanged wedding vows on Wednesday, February 5, 1812. The ceremony was held in the Hasseltines’ west living room, the same room where Ann and Adoniram had first laid eyes on each other twenty months before. Samuel Newell was there, too, with Harriet. They were due to be married the following week. Samuel Nott was also in attendance with his fiancee, Roxana.
The following day, February 6, a special service was held at Tabernacle Church in Salem to officially send off the missionaries headed for India. There were now five men, since Luther Rice had joined the group. Over two thousand people attended the service, many of them setting out before dawn to walk to the church. It was the coldest day of the year, but the number of people packed into the church made it as warm as summer inside.
Several days after the service, more good news arrived. A second ship, a small brig named the Caravan, lay at anchor in Salem Harbor. It was about to set sail for Calcutta, India, and the captain was willing to transport the missionaries. With this news, it was decided that the group should split up so that if one of the ships was lost at sea or overrun by privateers, at least half the missionaries would make it to their destination. Samuel Nott and his new wife, Roxana, along with Gordon Hall and Luther Rice, would head for Philadelphia to sail aboard the Harmony, while Samuel Newell and his new wife, Harriet, and Adoniram and Ann would sail aboard the Caravan.
Before the Newells and the Judsons could set sail, the worst storm in years hit the northern coast of Massachusetts, dumping several feet of snow across the area. The Caravan was forced to lay at anchor off the end of Crowninshield’s Wharf. It was too small to brave the fierce seas whipped up by the storm. One day went by, and then another, as the two missionary couples waited patiently. Adoniram busied himself preaching and talking about missions wherever he could find an audience. The results of his efforts stunned him. When he had first heard that the Caravan was available to transport them to India, the American Board had only twelve hundred dollars in the bank. As a result of his speaking engagements, Adoniram had raised an extra five thousand dollars. It was more than enough money to send the missionaries out with a year’s pay in advance without having to rely on the money that would be coming from Mr. Norris’s will.
One delay followed another as the anxious missionaries waited for the Caravan to set sail. First it was the weather, and then the captain informed them that he needed to wait for some special cargo to arrive. Finally, on February 18, Adoniram received word that it was time to board the ship. They would be sailing with the high tide the following morning. Adoniram took their last pieces of baggage down to the dock, leaving Ann to say good-bye to several of her friends who had gathered.
When Adoniram returned, the house where they were staying was filled with well-wishers. Adoniram marveled at the way his new wife could make a party out of anything. There was just one problem with this party: Ann didn’t understand the dread her husband felt over saying good-bye. Adoniram braced himself as he stepped inside the house, but he couldn’t bear it. Quietly he slipped out, leaving a note for Ann saying he would meet her aboard ship. When Ann read the note, she was very upset. There were many things she did not understand about her new husband. Still, she graciously said good-bye to all her friends and accepted a sleighride down to the dock.
Sure enough, Adoniram was standing on the icy deck of the Caravan waiting for Ann. He clambered onto the dock and took his wife’s hand and guided her up the gangplank and onto the ship, which was now tied up alongside Crowninshield’s Wharf. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I can take only so many good-byes.”
Ann nodded as she climbed aboard the ship. Adoniram squeezed her hand gently as a sign of thanks. He also knew how brave it was for his wife to board any ship, since her only brother had been drowned in a shipwreck only months before. As a result of the incident, Ann had developed a great fear of drowning.
Early the next morning Adoniram and Ann stood together on deck as the Caravan slipped out into the open harbor. The last time Adoniram had sailed aboard a ship he had been kidnapped and imprisoned. He hoped that he and Ann would not meet the same fate. But the truth was, the Caravan was a much more lucrative prize than the Packet. Thinking his ship would be the last vessel to leave Salem for India before the British blockaded the harbor, Captain Heard had loaded up his ship with forty thousand dollars’ worth of trading goods. And not only that, he had confided to Adoniram that there was two thousand dollars in silver coins in the ship’s safe. All of this weighed on Adoniram. If the Caravan was boarded by privateers or pirates, this time he would have a wife to worry about and keep safe.
“God,” he prayed, as the Caravan headed towards open sea, “may we all live to see India.”