Exile (1812)

C H A P T E R I I

Exile

[ I812 ]

MR. ROLT of Calcutta invited Adoniram and Nancy to stay

in his house until they could find a ship on which to follow the Newells. They accepted his invitation and moved from Serampore about the time the Col. Gillespie sailed.

Rolt had married the widow of an English Baptist missionary and in the room Adoniram and Nancy occupied there was a fairsized library which contained a good many books dealing with baptism. This was fortunate: whether the word “baptism” meant sprinkling in infancy or immersion by voluntary decision at the age of discretion was a question that had been occupying Adoniram more and more. The Serampore missionaries had no idea of his thoughts on the subject; aware of their role as hosts, they had carefully avoided even mentioning any of the doctrinal differences between the two denominations. If they influenced him at all, it was unconsciously, through their personalities, especially that of the modest Carey, who in ability and accomplishments stood head and shoulders above any man Adoniram had ever met.

At any rate, with a fine library in his room and nothing in particular to do but await the Harmony, Adoniram seized the opportunity to study the question thoroughly and settle it in his mind for once and all. Nancy was alarmed. “I tried to have him give it up, and rest satisfied in his old sentiments, and frequently told him if he became a BaptiSt, I would not. He, however, said he felt it his duty to examine closely a subject on which he felt so many doubts,” and “... determined to read candidly and prayerfully, and to hold fast, or embrace the truth, however mortifying, however great the sacrifice.”

In self-defense, Nancy began to eXplore the Bible herself. Surely, it said something in favor of infant baptism. For two or three days she pored over it, comparing the Old Testament with the New, trying to find some foundation for the Congregational praCtice which she had accepted all her life. With growing dismay she had to admit that she could find nothing; and by now, under Adoniram’s influence, she had become convinced that the issue was much more than a mere matter of form, regardless of which viewpoint was right.

It was at this juncture, four days after the departure of the Newells, that the Harmony arrived with Gordon Hall, Luther Rice, and Samuel and Roxana Nott.

It was a happy reunion. The four men had not seen each other since the ordination at the Tabernacle seven months before, and Nancy was pleased to have an American woman again for a companion. But there was no doubt from the first that Adoniram was preoccupied with some disturbing thought. Within a few hours he told at least Nott what was in his mind, and soon all the missionaries were discussing it.

The newcomers immediately raised one problem which had never occurred to Adoniram and Nancy. How could they make one joint mission if their party included two competitive— as they saw it—denominations? It would be impossible. Nancy was horrified: “If he should renounce his former sentiments, he must offend his friends at home, hazard his reputation, and, what is still more trying, be separated from his missionary associates.”

But there was no use arguing with Adoniram. Within a few weeks she had to admit that “Mr. J. feels convinced from Scripture, that he has never been baptized, and that he cannot conscientiously administer baptism to infants. This change of sentiment must necessarily produce a separation. As we are perfectly united with our brethren in every other respect, and are much attached to them, it is inexpressibly painful to leave them, and go alone to a separate station.”

As to herself, she was still spending hours in their room in Mr. Rolt’s house poring over the Gospel and leafing through the many tomes in the library: “But I... must acknowledge that the face of Scripture does favour the Baptist sentiments. I intend to persevere in examining the subject, and hope that I shall be disposed to embrace the truth, whatever it may be. It is painfully mortifying to my natural feelings, to think seriously of renouncing a system which I have been taught from infancy to believe and respect, and embrace one which I have been taught to despise. O that the Spirit of God may enlighten and direct my mind—may prevent my retaining an old error, or embracing a new one!”

Poor Nancy! The prospect was worse than “painfully mortifying.” It was terrifying. There was little in Mr. Rolt’s spacious high-ceilinged house with its many obsequious servants to make her feel at home. Wherever she went, indoors as a white lady of leisure, or riding in a palanquin through the medley of races, costumes and tongues, in the bustling streets, she felt a Stranger. Feeling more and more that she was about to cut every tie with home and be cast without support in this alien world, her thoughts turned with ever greater longing to familiar Bradford. “Grief for the deprivation of my friends, I love to indulge; and I find every such indulgence binds them more closely to my heart. Can I forget thee, O my country! Can I forget the scenes of childhood; and the more endearing scenes of riper years? Can I forget the parental roof, siSters, companions, and associates of my life? No, never! Never, till this pulse ceases to beat, this heart to feel.”

But there was no help for it. Within a few more days Adoniram’s sentiments cryStallized. He muSt be baptized and become a Baptist. Nancy, after a little longer Struggle, decided that she agreed with him. At the end of August he ete a letter for both of them to Serampore, Stating their conviction “that the immersion of a professing believer is the only Christian baptism. In these exercises I have not been alone. Mrs. Judson has been engaged in a similar examination, and has come to the same conclusion. Feeling, therefore, that we are in an unbaptized state, we wish to profess our faith in Christ by being baptized in obedience to his sacred commands.”

Adoniram’s letter came as a complete surprise to the Serampore missionaries. In one way the situation it created was not altogether to their liking. American Congregationalists might feel that they had seduced the Americans to Baptist ideas. But any momentary feelings of embarrassment were soon forgotten in the realization of the Opportunity thus unexpectedly presented to American Baptists. As Marshman wrote to the Reverend Dr. Baldwin, pastor of the Second Baptist Church in Boston, whose writings had played a large part in Adoniram’s conversion, it seemed “as though Providence itself were raising up this young man, that you might at least partake of the zeal of our Congregational missionary brethren around you. I would wish, then, that you should share in the glorious work, by supporting him.... After God has given you a missionary of your own nation, faith, and order without the help or knowledge of man, let me entreat you, and Dr. Messer, and brethren Bolles and Moriarty, humbly to accept the gift.”

Adoniram, too, wrote to Dr. Baldwin and to Dr. Bolles, pastor of Salem’s First Baptist Church, whom he had met before sailing. Now he reminded him that, at that time, “I suggested the formation of a society among the Baptists in America for the support of foreign missions.... Little did I than expect to be personally concerned in such an attempt.”

Writing letters was all Adoniram could do for the present. What with the war, it would be months before the Congregationalists could know that their first American foreign missionary was now a Baptist, or the Baptists that they had a foreign missionary without their choice or expectation. Funds, location of a mission, support, organization -— all these hung in air. But Adoniram had never concerned himself over such matters. He was satisfied that Baptism was the only correct creed. He had a burning determination to convert the heathen himself. For the reSt, let others worry.

Adoniram and Nancy were baptized by immersion on September 6, 1812. The ceremony was performed by Ward in the Lal Bazar Chapel in Calcutta. “Thus,” wrote Nancy, “... we are confirmed Baptists, not because we wanted to be, but because truth compelled us to be. We have endeavored to count the cost, and be prepared for the many severe trials resulting from this change of sentiment. We anticipate the loss of reputation, and of the affection and esteem of many of our American friends. But the most trying circumstance attending this change, and that which has caused us most pain, is the separation which must take place between us and our dear missionary associates... We feel that we are alone in the world, with no real friend but each other, no one on whom we can depend but God.”

Their new status brought them to a fresh consideration of where they could go. By now Samuel and Harriet Newell should be nearly at Isle of France. The Notts, Hall and Rice, with a mission to Madagascar in mind, were planning to follow by the first available ship. A few days after their arrival in Calcutta they had been ordered, like the Newells and Judsons earlier, to leave aboard the ship on which they had come; but the Government had given them permission to go to Isle of France if they could find transportation. Adoniram and Nancy had permission to go to Isle of France too. But how could they, now that they were Baptists?

They considered other possibilities: Amboina, in the Spice Islands; Japan; Persia; South America. Adoniram had even begun to study Portuguese in case..

But in spite of all its drawbacks, it was Burma that still drew Judson. Since he had first read Symes’s Embassy t0 Ava in his room in Andover, he had never quite been able to get that strange country out of his head. What caught his fancy as much as anything was the fact that the Bible had never been translated into Burmese. In Calcutta it was generally believed that Burma had a population of seventeen million—more than twice that of the United States. There would have to be a Burmese Bible before Burma could become Christian. Adoniram wanted to be the one to provide it: not simply one pioneer among many—but the first to give the Scriptures to a great nation.

Once more he began making inquiries, writing to Chater at Ceylon. In September Felix Carey arrived in Calcutta from Rangoon. Adoniram immediately cultivated his acquaintance. Felix was much taken with Adoniram and wanted the Judsons to return with him. He had made some beginnings with translation but would be glad to resign the work to a man as well qualified as Adoniram.

In October, however, Adoniram and Nancy gave up the idea. There were just too many difficulties. Even Felix retained his precarious foothold only through having a native wife and acting more as a Burmese government employee than as a missionary. For two Americans it would be all but impossible where, as Nancy put it, their “lives would depend on the caprice of a monarch.”

Reluctantly, they finally settled on Java. “It presents a wide field for missionary labors, and no Missionary is there. We have spoken for a passage; and unless some new prospects open up of getting into the Burman empire, it is probable we shall go to Java if government will permit. There is some prospect of brother Rice’s going with us, which we consider as a great favour in Providence, as we eXpected to go alone.”

For Rice, too, was undergoing a change of sentiments. When he first arrived in Calcutta, Adoniram and Nancy had believed he was more hostile to Baptist views than anyone else aboard the Harmony. This impression had got about because some English Baptist missionaries had made the voyage with the Americans, and several rather heated discussions of baptism had taken place, Rice being the most vigorous defender of the Congregationalist position. In reality, his vociferousness had been prompted by his own inward doubts, some of which dated back to his undergraduate days at Williams.

Soon after Adoniram and Nancy were baptized, Rice came to Stay with them at Mr. Rolt’s house. Still using attack to conceal his secret intent, he tried again and again to draw Adoniram into an argument about baptism. Adoniram refused. He merely advised Rice to study the Bible. If he wanted Adoniram’s further views, let him read the sermon Adoniram had preached late in September in the La] Bazar Chapel, which Dr. Carey had pronounced the best sermon on baptism he had ever heard.

Rice followed Adoniram’s advice. One morning in late October he even called on Dr. Carey before he was out of bed to ask to look at his Greek TeStament. From some of Rice’s questions, Carey “began to suspect that he was enquiring.” Before long, the suspicion was confirmed. On Sunday, the first of November, Rice was baptized, and the three—Adoniram, Nancy and Rice—immediately began planning a joint mission.

Meanwhile, Samuel and Roxana Nott and Gordon Hall had been having troubles of their own. After receiving permission to go to Isle of France, they had been delayed for more than a month by sickness. Recovered, they engaged passage in mid-September on the ship Adele, but the sailing was delayed day after day into October.

About this time someone told them they might be able to secure permission to go to Ceylon. Inquiring at the police station, they were told they would have no difficulty, and on the strength of this assurance cancelled their arrangements for the Adele and began to look for a ship to Ceylon. It did not take them many days to find out that no ship was sailing for Ceylon, and probably none would until a large convoy set out for there in January. But by now the Adele had left. What were they to do?

A new piece of news which came to them about this time made them change their plans once more. They heard that a new governor, Sir Evan Nepean, had arrived in Bombay. He was a vice president of the British and Foreign Bible Society and known to be a friend to missions. Why not, they asked themselves, go to Bombay and start a mission there? Early in November they found a ship for Bombay: the Commerce, Captain Arbuthnot; they applied to the police for a pass to sail on it, received it, and promptly began to move their baggage aboard.

Unfortunately, they did not realize that a pass from the police to go on the Commerce was not the “general passport” they thought it. Worse, their many changes of plan had aroused the suspicion of the government. Bureaucracy made no distinction between Messrs. Nott and Hall, Congregationalists, and Messrs. Judson and Rice, Baptists. They were all Americans, all missionaries. They had sworn they intended to take the first ship to Isle of France; but instead, for months they had been reserving passage on one ship after another, bound every which way. At best, the officials suspected, the Americans were using all these subterfuges to remain in India. At worst—who knew? Perhaps they were spies. At any rate, people who so muddled up the orderly channels of procedure ought to be treated like spies. So reasoned officialdom, and, annoyed, promptly pUt down its foot.

A fleet was about to leave Calcutta for England. On the seventeenth of November Nott and Hall were handed a peremptory order to go in the fleet to England. The Judsons and Rice were included, and the names of all the missionaries were printed in the Calcutta papers as “passengers to England.”

Nott and Hall, who for weeks had been acting independently of Adoniram and Rice, frantically tried to bring their plight to the personal attention of Lord Minto. But the officials would not even transmit their petition to Lord Minto—because it concerned a matter which would first have to appear before the Privy Council, 150 T H E D A N G E R O U S and by the time the Council met next the fleet would be days at sea, presumably with the missionaries on board. Government was grandly (officially) unconcerned about the whole matter. Nott and Hall, who saw themselves against their will winding up their mission on English soil together with Adoniram and Rice, the very people from whom they were trying to separate, were des—perate.

It was desperation which suggested an expedient. After all, they did have a pass from the police to go on board the Commerce. It had not been revoked. Their baggage was on the ship, Captain Arbuthnot had reported them as passengers and had received port clearance. Why not simply embark on the Commerce and stay there? If they got away, well and good. If not—then they went to England with the fleet, as the government intended. Captain ArbuthnOt had no objection to trying it. His papers were all in order and whatever happened was no fault of his.

On November twentieth Nott, his wife and Hall went aboard the Commerce. So far as the authorities were concerned they simply dropped out of sight. Furious government officials searched the city for them. But somehow the police overlooked the Commerce; perhaps not entirely by accident: then as today one department sometimes worked at cross-purposes with another.

Adoniram, Nancy and Luther Rice, meanwhile, were not having so much luck. Adoniram and Rice had been called to the police station to receive their orders to go with the fleet. When they left, a petty officer was detailed to accompany them to Mr. Rolt’s house, and when they arrived there he told them not to leave it without permission.

But Adoniram and Rice were the last men on earth to obey any order that conflicted with their intentions. It did not take them long to find out that a ship named La Belle Cre’ole was leaving for Isle of France in two days. They had no particular desire to go there, but at least it was not England, and the Company’s authority did not extend there. The only difficulty was their lack of a pass to sail with the ship, such as the Norts and Hall had to go on the Commerce. They applied to Mr. Martyn, the chief police magistrate. But Mr. Martyn had been having altogether too much trouble with American missionaries lately. One group ——or were they part of the same group? ——had already vanished and were not to be found anywhere, perhaps as a result of some ill—advised issuance of a police pass. He refused to issue any passes.

Denied a pass, they explained their problem to the captain of the Cre’ole. Would he, they asked, take them on board without one? The captain, no more a lover of the authorities than many others in Calcutta, replied that he would be neutral. There was his ship. They might do as they pleased.

This was enough for Adoniram and Rice. But how were they going to get aboard the ship without being seen? Here Mr. Rolt lent a hand. The dockyards were always closed and the gates locked at night. Opening the gates without permission was a serious offense. Nevertheless, through influence (and perhaps a little money in the proper places) Mr. Rolt arranged for Nancy, Adoniram and Rice to be passed through the gates at midnight on the twenty-first of November. That night they stole out of his house, coolies hired by Rolt carrying their baggage, and went through the gate to the Cre’ole. The next morning, a Sunday, the ship began to move down the river and they congratulated themselves that they had got away safely—even ahead of the Commerce, which remained tied up at the dock, the Notts and Gordon Hall still aboard, hoping the police would not find them.

Sunday the Créole sailed undisturbed down the Hooghly, and the three missionaries began to become acquainted with the other passengers, of whom there were four besides the captain’s wife, none of them, judging by the way they ignored the Sabbath, in the least religious. By Monday the fugitives must have begun to feel that they were out of the grasp of the East India Company.

If they did, they were deluding themselves. Late that night, an hour or so after midnight, the Cre’ole was hailed and stopped. Hastily dressing, they left their cabin to find out what had happened. They soon learned that the news was as bad as possible. The pilot had just been handed a dispatch from Calcutta commanding him to anchor and wait for further instructions, “as passengers were on board who had been ordered to England.”

The three immediately held a conference with the captain. There was no question what the order portended. Soon, perhaps tomorrow, the police would appear and search the ship. If the missionaries were found they would be taken off and sent back to Calcutta, and England. They must get off the ship before the search began.

There was an English tavern on shore about a mile from where the ship was anchored. Adoniram and Rice decided to hide there until the search was over. Securing a small rowboat, they put into it some of their cases and bundles and went ashore. Nancy, on the captain’s advice, decided to stay on the ship with the baggage. He was sure that her presence aboard would make no difference “even should an officer be sent to search the vessel.” Perhaps, banking on interbureau rivalry in Calcutta, he felt that the police would only see as much as they had to see. If the two men were absent, they would pay no attention to Nancy.

All the next day Adoniram and Rice remained in the tavern while Nancy fretted aboard the idly rocking Créole. That evening a boat brought a note from the ship’s owner in Calcutta. It added nothing to what they already knew—the Cre’ole must remain at anchor until it was known whether “there were persons on board which the captain had been forbidden to receive.” The pilot, anxious to help, sent back to the owner a certificate to the effect that no such persons were on the ship, and a list of the passengers. But the government had gone so far now that no one really expected his efforts to have any result.

Later that evening Nancy decided to go to the tavern herself. She was given the use of the pilot boat, with its crew of six natives, and rowed across the dark, quiet waters to shore.

At the tavern she told the news of the day and evening to her husband and Rice. As they discussed what it meant, it became plain to all of them that they could never hope to stay on the ship without an official pass. Someone would have to go back to Calcutta and try once more. Rice was chosen, and he left that night. Adoniram and Nancy remained at the tavern. Late the next day he returned with empty hands. The police flatly refused to issue a pass. Moreover, by now the owner of the Cre’ole was angry at them for delaying the sailing of his ship, which they had caused to idle at anchor in the Hooghly for three full days. He washed his hands of the whole affair. From now on let the missionaries take care of themselves.

The owner’s feelings were ixnplemented in the morning by a note from the captain. The Cre’ole had just received permission to leave —but not with the missionaries. They must remove their baggage from the ship at once.

Despairingly the three considered what they could do. Whatever happened, they were resolved not to allow themselves to be taken back to Calcutta. They had heard that at Fultah, sixteen miles farther down the river, there was another tavern kept by an Englishman, and they decided to try their luck there. But how would they get their baggage? Adoniram and Rice both felt it would be dangerous for them to go back to the ship. Nancy would have to take care of it herself.

On Nancy’s return to the Cre’ole she realized at once that the little pilot boat, overcrowded already with its crew of six and one passenger, could never carry all the baggage. Would the captain, she begged, let it stay on board as far as Fultah? There she could find a boat big enough to move it to shore. The patient captain agreed, and even gave her permission to stay on the ship herself as far as Fultah.

Again she returned to shore in the pilot boat to inform the two men of the new plan. With Nancy and the baggage taken care of, at leaSt for a while, they devised a fresh expedient. Rice would go back to Calcutta and try to get a passage for them to Ceylon. Meanwhile Adoniram would row down the river to Fultah in the little boat with their hand luggage.

But while they were discussing all this in the tavern, a strong wind had sprung up. The Créole’s captain had taken advantage of it and hoisted sail, so when the missionaries stepped outside to the riverbank the ship was almost out of sight downstream. Fortunately the pilot boat was still waiting for Nancy; she sprang into it and ordered the crew to hurry after the ship. The next hour or so was as terrifying as any in her experience. The sun was scorching bright; she suffered from the lack of an umbrella and the wind-whipped water was dangerously rough for the little boat. In order to make better speed the native crew “hoisted a large sail, which every now and then would almost tip the boat on one side,” until Nancy expected sail, maSt, boat, natives and herself to overturn. She could not help showing her fear. But in order to comfort her the crew “would constantly repeat, ‘Cutcho pho, anna sahib; cutcha pho, 154 T H E D A N G E R O U S anna.’ The meaning, ‘Never fear, Madam; never fear.’ ” After a while they caught up with the ship, and Nancy was helped aboard in time to assemble the missionaries’ possessions for removal.

When the Cre’ole reached Fultah the wind was still Strong; the ship merely checked speed enough to let Nancy get aboard the pilot boat again, alone. But once landed at Fultah, she was able to hire a large boat which she sent in pursuit of the baggage on the Cre’ole, which continued to move rapidly down the river.

Then, “I entered the tavern, a stranger, a female, and unprotected. I called for a room and sat down to reflect on my disconsolate situation. I had nothing with me but a few rupees. I did not know that the boat which I sent after the vessel would overtake it, and if it did, whether it would ever return with our baggage; neither did I know where Mr. J. was, or when he would come, or with what treatment-I should meet at the tavern. I thought of home, and said to myself, These are some of the trial: attendant on missionary life, and which I anticipated.”

She might have felt worse if she had known that while she was in the tavern the Commerce, carrying Gordon Hall and Samuel and Roxana Nott, overtook and passed the Cre’ole, and that though her American passengers had learned that Nancy was alone on shore, they could not stop. There was nothing they could do for her. Soon the Commerce was far down the river, moving with wind and tide, Bombay-bound.

Fortunately, Nancy did not have long to wait. In a few hours Adoniram appeared as they had arranged beforehand, in the little skiff, with their hand luggage; and toward nightfall, the large boat Nancy had sent after the Cre’ole appeared from the other direction with the heavy baggage. Now at least they were together; and they had their baggage.

But what should they do next? They would be marooned on shore unless Rice had better luck in Calcutta than before. Should they give up and go back to Calcutta? Never!... While there was any expedient untried. Adoniram sounded out the landlord, a friendly-looking fellow. Could he help them get a passage to Ceylon? The landlord was encouraging. A friend of his, he said, was in command of a ship bound for Madras; it was expected down-river the next day. He would speak to his friend. He was sure passage could be arranged.

Madras, on the Coromandel Coast, was more than two thirds of the way to Ceylon. If they could get as far as Madras they could surely secure passage to Ceylon somehow; so with incorrigible optimism they went to bed, their hopes higher than they had been for more than a week.

The Madras ship dropped anchor in front of the tavern on the third day, and the landlord went on board to see the captain. By this time Rice had rejoined them. He had been unable to do anything in Calcutta. It looked as if the landlord’s friend offered their last hope. But even this failed them. The landlord soon returned with word that the captain could not take them to Madras.

By now it was late in the afternoon. The three talked it over. There was still one hope. Perhaps, if they went on board themselves after supper, by cajolery, pleas, tears or money they could somehow persuade the ship’s master to take them.

With this resolve they sat down to eat. And at this juncture, as they always believed, Providence took a hand. The meal was just being served when a letter was brought in.

We hastily opened it, and, to our great surprise and joy, in it was a pass from the magistrate for us to go on board the Créole, the vessel we had left. Who procured this pass for us, or in what way, we are still ignorant; we could only view the hand of God, and wonder.

All at once, everything had changed.

But had it? Their elation turned to disappointment as they realized that the pass might have arrived too late to be of any use. For the Créole had vanished down-river three days ago and more than likely was already at sea. Was there any possibility of catching up with her? There might be one they learned. Seventy miles below F ultah was the port of Saugur, where vessels often anchored for a few days to make last-minute preparations before striking out into the Bay of Bengal. The Créole might possibly—just possibly—still be there. It was the only chance left to them.

The baggage was still in the large boat which had brought it from the ship. Hastily the three finished their meal, paid their bill, and in the darkness set out for Saugur, against the tide.

It was a most dreary night for me [wrote Nancy] but Mr. J. slept the greater part of the night. The next day we had a favorable wind, and before night reached Saugur where were many ships at anchor, and among the rest we had the happiness to find the Créole. She had been anchored there two days, waiting for some of the ship’s crew. I never enjoyed a sweeter moment in my life, than when I was sure we were in sight of the Cre’ole.