15. Called by the King
Chapter 15
Called by the King
It was January 25, 1823, before Adoniram was issued a permit to return to Rangoon, where he had also been given permission to build a kyoung. He started making plans. He would return to Rangoon and check up on the state of the new church and build the kyoung while he waited for Ann to return from the United States. The two of them would then move to Ava. By now, Adoniram had made many friends in Ava and had a good grasp on the inner workings of the government. Both of these things convinced him that one day he would have the opportunity to openly preach the gospel in the royal city. Jonathan Price would stay on in Ava while Adoniram was away.
When he finally got back to Rangoon, Adoniram found some things to be encouraged about and other things that were disheartening. Mah Men-lay, the first woman convert, had died. Many of the homes of other converts had been burned down, or the people had been driven out of their neighborhoods in retaliation for becoming Christians. Adoniram did what he could to help these new believers. He also continued his translation work and made plans to build the kyoung. All the while he waited for news of Ann.
Finally, much to his relief, Adoniram received word that Ann was sailing back to Rangoon and he could expect her to arrive sometime in December. Accompanying her on the voyage were two new missionaries, Jonathan and Deborah Wade. Adoniram could hardly wait. He had missed his wife so much, and he looked forward to having her at his side again. He was also delighted that the Wades were coming. The timing was perfect. Since he had decided to move to Ava with Ann, the Wades would be able to work alongside the Houghs in Rangoon.
Sure enough, right on schedule, Ann and the Wades arrived safely in Rangoon. After giving Jonathan and Deborah Wade several days of orientation to the work of the mission and life in Burma, Adoniram and Ann set out for Ava.
The trip upriver against the current was particularly slow, but that did not matter to Adoniram and Ann. They had so much to catch up on. Ann had news from his family. Adoniram’s father had resigned his position as a Congregational Church pastor and had become a Baptist. His younger brother Elnathan was a prominent government surgeon and he had insisted that Ann return to Burma with the small table and rocking chair he had bought for her.
Ann also showed her husband a copy of a book called An Account of the American Baptist Mission to the Burman Empire. Ann had written it herself, and the book had been published in the United States. Adoniram was greatly impressed; his wife had done a masterful job with the writing. Ann also had a letter for Adoniram from Brown University, where he had gone to college. The letter stated that Adoniram had been given an honorary Doctorate of Divinity, which meant that he could use the title of doctor and call himself Doctor Judson.
Six weeks after setting out, their boat finally arrived on the outskirts of Ava. Adoniram spotted Jonathan Price paddling a small boat towards them. When he got nearer, Jonathan explained that the conflict between the Burmese and the British was getting worse every day. Things had reached the point where any foreigner in Ava, whether British or American, was looked on with suspicion. Undeterred, Adoniram decided to stay. As far as he was concerned, it was too late to turn back now. Besides, what happened in Ava would most likely happen in other places in the kingdom, including Rangoon.
The Judsons moved into a small hut while Adoniram set about building a more permanent mission house next door. The house was made of brick to try to keep out some of the stifling heat of Ava. It had three rooms and a large veranda that ran the length of the house.
Adoniram went to visit his old friends at the royal court, but he soon found out that many of them had left and those who were still there did not want to see him. It would have been a very lonely time for him if Ann had not been with him. Ann kept herself busy taking care of three small girls whose mother had gone insane and abandoned them.
Several European visitors living in Ava kept Adoniram informed on what was happening in the city. One of these visitors was Henry Gouger, whose company Adoniram enjoyed very much. Although Henry Gouger was only in his mid-twenties, he had a knack for making money. He had brought a shipload of goods from Europe and sold them at a huge profit in Burma. This had made him a very rich man. He soon found out, however, that Burmese law forbade any gold or jewels from leaving the country, and since they were the currency used to pay for things in Burma, Henry had no way of getting his new fortune home. Still, Henry Gouger was an optimistic man who believed that sooner or later he would find a way to get his money out of the country.
Throughout the next year, rumors continued to spread about what the British were up to on Burma’s border with India. On Sunday evening, May 23, 1824, the rumors turned to fact. A fleet of British warships sailed upriver to Rangoon and bombarded the city. After a brave fight, the locals abandoned the city, and a British captain raised the Union Jack over the docks. Great Britain and Burma were at war!
At first the Burmese people in Ava didn’t believe that foreigners had entered their country. Then they decided they had but it was all part of a clever trap. The great Burmese army could not be defeated! What must have happened, they told one another, was that the army had lured the British far upriver so that they could be captured and used as slaves. Indeed, many officials in Ava began putting in “orders” for slaves. One man requested “six white strangers to row my boat.” Another woman commented that she would like two or three white men because she had heard they made intelligent servants. The Burmese were unable to grasp the truth of the situation: A power existed in the world that was greater than the king, their Golden Ruler. As the days passed, however, the Burmese came to understand that the British were powerful and meant business. A gloom settled over the kingdom.
About this time, Adoniram heard some disturbing news: Henry Gouger had been arrested and interrogated. The Burmese had found some maps among his belongings, simple sketches he had drawn to help him find his way around Ava. To the Burmese officials interrogating him the maps were evidence that Henry Gouger was a spy. Worse, the officials also found receipts showing that Henry Gouger had paid Adoniram several large sums of money, implicating Adoniram as a co-conspirator.
Of course, Adoniram was no spy, and neither was Henry Gouger. What had really happened was that Henry Gouger had helped Adoniram get money from the Baptist mission fund in the United States through the bank that Henry dealt with in Calcutta. Adoniram knew that the Burmese officials would not believe this. As far as they were concerned, he was a spy. He waited to see what would happen next.
On Tuesday, June 8, 1824, Adoniram and Ann were just about to sit down to dinner together when the door to their house burst open and twelve Burmese men surged inside. Adoniram put down the bowl of curry he was carrying to the table and stepped forward. “What is it you want?” he asked, glancing around quickly to make sure Ann stayed behind him.
A man carrying a large black book glared at him. Like the eleven other men, he had a spot the size of a silver dollar tattooed on each cheek. Adoniram realized grimly that the distinctive mark on the faces of these men meant only one thing: The men were the dreaded Spotted Faces, criminals who should have died for their crimes but who were spared to become the executioners and thugs who ran Burma’s prisons. Many of the Spotted Faces also had their crimes tattooed on their foreheads or chests. The spots on their cheeks made it impossible for them to escape from the hell they created for themselves and their prisoners.
“We have come for the teacher,” snarled the man with the book.
“That’s me,” replied Adoniram, marveling at how calm he managed to sound.
“You are called by the king,” said the man.
Fear gripped Adoniram. Being called by the king was the Burmese way of placing a person under arrest. Immediately the group of Spotted Faces pounced on Adoniram and punched him to the ground. Adoniram felt a thin cord being wrapped around his arms above his elbows and then yanked tight. He let out a gasp of pain as the cord ripped through his skin. He felt blood seep through his shirtsleeve.
Ann sprang forward. “Stop,” she begged. “Don’t hurt him. I will give you money.”
Adoniram groaned at what he heard next.
“Take her too,” barked the chief Spotted Face. “She is foreign also.”
Adoniram struggled to his knees. “Don’t take her unless her name is written in the book,” he pleaded, fearing Ann would not survive more than a few nights in a Burmese prison, especially since she had just found out she was pregnant again.
The Spotted Face grunted and turned his attention back to Adoniram. With a final twist of the cord, he ordered him dragged outside and off to the courthouse. As Adoniram stumbled out the door he could hear Ann crying behind him. The pain of the cords biting into his skin was excruciating for Adoniram, but nothing like the pain he felt inside at having to leave Ann alone without protection.
Half walking, half dragged, Adoniram arrived at the courthouse, where the governor of Ava stood waiting for him. He had no trial, no opportunity to ask why he was there, only a verdict. “Guilty,” declared the governor. “Send him to Let-may-yoon.”
Let-may-yoon meant the Death Prison. It had the reputation of being the most vicious prison in Burma, and as he rumbled along in a cart toward the prison, Adoniram wondered how he would survive there.
The head Spotted Face of the prison stood waiting for Adoniram at the gate. “Welcome, my son,” he said, his malicious smile revealing a row of broken yellow teeth. Adoniram cringed as he noticed the words tattooed on the man’s bare chest: Loo-that, murderer. “We are one big happy family in here,” he continued. “Everyone calls me ‘Aphe.’”
Adoniram tried to nod, but Aphe meant father, and he could think of no one on earth less like a father than this man.
“Come with me. I have a surprise for you,” said Aphe, pulling Adoniram out of the wagon. He then commanded a Spotted Face with his ears cut off to take him to a huge block of granite in the center of the prison yard. There Adoniram had three pairs of fetters riveted closed around his ankles.
“Try to walk now,” laughed Aphe, “and see how far you get.”
Adoniram obediently stood and took a step. The fetters pulled at his ankles, causing him to fall flat on his face in the dust.
The courtyard erupted into laughter. “Take him to his cell,” ordered Aphe when he finally stopped laughing.
Adoniram found himself being dragged again, this time down a musty corridor until he was finally dumped in a windowless cell.
After the door closed behind him, Adoniram twisted the fetters so that they did not cut into his skin. He then looked around the cell. His eyes had not yet adjusted to the darkness, but he could sense other prisoners in the room. He could smell them, too. The stench of human waste and rotting flesh was overpowering. Finally he began to make out some shapes in the darkness, and then the shapes slowly became the outlines of people he knew. Henry Gouger was lying against the far wall, and the Scottish sea captain he had once met, Captain Laird, was slumped over in the corner. Neither man spoke.
Others were in the room too, about fifty people in all, mainly men, but a few women. They were all spread around on the teakwood floor of the cell. Some of the other prisoners groaned softly, and one or two mumbled Buddhist prayers.
As the tiny amount of light that filtered into the cell from the outside gave way to darkness, Adoniram wondered what night would be like in the cell. It turned out to be worse than anything he could have imagined. About an hour after Adoniram was dumped in the cell, the door creaked open again, and Dr. Price was thrown inside. Aphe and two other Spotted Faces followed him in. Adoniram watched in horror as they lowered a bamboo pole from the ceiling and hooked each prisoner’s fetters to it. Then they hoisted the pole into the air until it was four feet off the ground. Adoniram lay with the others, half hanging from the pole. His feet were four feet in the air, with only his shoulders and head touching the floor.
Aphe chuckled to himself. “That will keep you all safe for the night,” he said as he lit the oil lamp in the middle of the room. “Sleep well, my children.” With that he turned and marched out of the cell. One of the other Spotted Faces slammed the door shut behind him and locked it.
Now that the prisoners were sure they were alone, they whispered to each other long into the night. The Burmese man to the right of Henry Gouger told them how he had seen foreigners being tortured and beaten to death. Adoniram learned from Henry Gouger that he had spent two weeks in stocks before being thrown into the cell and that King Bagyidaw had declared all foreigners to be spies. It seemed only a matter of time before they would all be dead. After a few hours in the wretched cell, Adoniram began to hope that death would come quickly.
Finally the cell fell silent except for an occasional groan and the rustling of rats as they scurried between the rows of dangling prisoners.
Adoniram tried not to think about what might be happening at home. Had Ann been arrested? Was she strung up in some other cell right now? And what about the New Testament he had just finished translating? It was in a drawer of his desk. It would surely be burned, probably along with the whole house. Slowly Adoniram’s thoughts became as hopeless as the human misery around him. He wondered whether all his efforts in Burma had been for nothing.
The following day went much as Adoniram had expected it would. Aphe came in early in the morning and lowered the bamboo pole. The prisoners were all unhitched from it and taken out in small groups for a ten-minute walk around the courtyard. It was the only time Adoniram saw daylight that day. The stench of human waste, along with that of decaying flesh, made going back into the cell almost unbearable.
The cell had another smell, that of of rotting food. The Spotted Faces did not provide any food for the inmates of the jail. Those without family or friends on the outside to deliver food to them were doomed to die of starvation. On certain religious days, though, Buddhist women would bring ngapi and rice to the prison to give to the prisoners. Ngapi, a fish paste, smelled bad enough when it was fresh, but after it had been wrapped in banana leaves and “saved” for a week or two, it stank beyond description. Many prisoners kept a stack of leaves smeared with ngapi stacked against the cell wall, though Adoniram could not believe they ate it without gagging.
It was two days before Ann came to visit him. She arrived with food and an order from the city governor written on a palm leaf that allowed her to enter the prison. Adoniram had lost much of his strength, and he half walked, half crawled to the doorway. He wondered what Ann would say when she saw him. In all their eleven years of marriage, Ann had never seen him look or smell so foul.
Through the bars in the door, Adoniram could see Ann silhouetted against the wall. When she saw him, she buried her head in her hands and sobbed.
“Ann,” he said weakly, “thank God you are all right.”
Ann looked at her husband and forced a smile. “I’ll find a way to get you out of here,” she said. “I already have the city governor working on your behalf. And I brought you some food.”
They talked quietly for a few minutes until a Spotted Face ordered Ann to leave immediately. Ann’s pleas made no difference, nor did the order from the governor permitting her to be in the prison.
Adoniram watched hopelessly as Ann was roughly escorted to the gate. He wondered whether he would ever see her again.