“The Missionary cause continues to prosper in this country, and constant additions are making to the churches. As many as twenty have been added to the Baptist church in Calcutta, since we have been here. I heard the relations of four native women before the church, a short time since, which were very interesting. They were converted by the means of a native who is a preacher, and has been the means of converting a great number, Last Sabbath, I communed with this Church, which is composed of Europeans, Armenians, Hindoos, Portuguese, and a class of people called half-cast, on account of one of their parents being a European, the other a Hindoo. I could not but be affected to see so many which were called emphatically from ‘the highways and hedges,’ commemorating the dying love of Christ, in a heathen land.”
Another circumstance, of which further notice will be taken in the next Chapter, added to their embarrassment at this time. Mr. and Mrs. Judson, and Mr. Rice, had become Baptists, and been baptized in Calcutta. Their connexion with the American Board of Commissioners, therefore, they considered as virtually dissolved. They could expect no support from that Board, and they could not be sure that their Baptist brethren would aid them.
The government were offended by the stay of the Missionaries at Calcutta, supposing, probably, that they intended to remain in Bengal.
“They accordingly,” says Mrs. Judson,* “issued a most peremptory order for our being sent immediately on board one of the Honourable Company’s vessels, bound to England. A petty officer accompanied Messrs. Rice and Judson to their place of residence, and requested them not to leave it without permission. We saw our names inserted in the publick papers as passengers on board a certain ship, and now there appeared very little hope of our escape. Mr. Rice and Mr. Judson, however, soon ascertained that a ship would sail for the Isle of France, in two days. They applied for a pass from the chief magistrate, but were refused. They communicated to the captain of the ship their circumstances, and asked if he would venture to take them on board without a pass ? He replied that he would be neutral ; that there was his ship, and that they might do as they pleased.
“With the assistance of the gentleman in whose house we were residing, we obtained coolies (porters) to convey our baggage, and, at twelve o’clock at night, we embarked, though the gates of the dock-yards were closed, and the opening of them at that time of night, quite contrary to the regulations of the Company. The next morning the ship sailed. She had proceeded down the river for two days, when a government dispatch arrived, forbidding the pilot to go farther, as passengers were on board who had been ordered to England.”
A letter to her parents, dated at sea, Dec. 7, contains some interesting particulars of the incidents, at this crisis, and of their subsequent arrival at the Isle of France, where they learnt the melancholy tidings of the death of Mrs. Newell.
“At Sea, N. Lat. 12, Dec. 7, 1812.
“My dear Parents,
We immediately concluded that it was not safe to continue on board the remainder of the night. Mr. Rice and Mr. Judson took a boat and went on shore to a tavern little more than a mile from the ship. The captain said that I, and our baggage, could stay on board with perfect safety, even should an officer be sent to search the vessel. The next day we lay at anchor, expecting every hour to hear some intelligence from Calcutta. In the evening, the captain received a note from the owner of the vessel, saying he had been at the Police to enquire the cause -of the detention of his ship ; and the cause assigned was, ‘it was suspected there were persons on board which the captain had been forbidden to receive,’ and that the ship could not proceed, until it was ascertained that no such persons were on board. The pilot immediately wrote a certificate that no such persons were on board, at the same time giving a list of all the passengers. I got into a small boat and went on shore, where the brethren had been anxiously waiting through the day. We knew not what course to take, as it was then impossible that we could proceed in that ship, without a pass from the magistrate. Brother Rice set out directly for Calcutta, to see if it was possible to get a pass, or do any thing else. We spent the night and the next day at the tavern, without hearing any thing from the ship, fearing that every European we saw was in search of us. Brother R. returned from Calcutta, but had effected nothing. The owner of the vessel was highly offended at his ship’s being detained so long on our account, and would do nothing more to assist us. We felt our situation was peculiarly trying, and could see no end to our difficulties. Early the next morning we received á note from the captain, saying he had liberty to proceed, but we must take our baggage from the vessel. We thought it not safe to continue at the tavern, where we were, neither could we think of returning to Calcutta. But one way was left—to go down the river about 16 miles, where there was another tavern. I went on board to see about our baggage, as the brethren did not think it safe for them to go. As we could get no boat at the place where we were, I requested the captain to let our things remain until the vessel reached the other tavern, where I would try to get a boat. He consented, and told me I had better go in the vessel, as it would be unpleasant going so far in a small boat. I was obliged to go to the shore again, to inform the brethren of this, and know what they would do. Brother R. set out again for Calcutta to try to get a passage to Ceylon, in a ship which was anchored near the place we were going to. Mr. J. took a small boat in which was a small part of our baggage, to go down the river, while I got into the pilot’s boat, which he had sent on shore with me, to go to the ship. As I had been some time on shore, and the wind strong, the vessel had gone down some distance. Imagine how uncomfortable my situation. In a little boat rowed by six natives, entirely alone, the river very rough, in consequence of the wind; without an umbrella or any thing to screen me from the sun, which was very hot. The natives hoisted a large sail, which every now and then would almost tip the boat on one side. I manifested some fear to them, and to comfort me, they would constantly repeat, ‘Cutcha pho annah, sahib, cutcha pho annah.’ The meaning, Never fear, madam, never fear. After some time we came up with the ship, where I put our things in order to be taken out in an hour or two. When we came opposite the tavern, the pilot kindly lent me his boat and servant, to go on shore. I immediately procured a large boat to send to the ship for our baggage. 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 many trials attendant on a missionary life, and which I had anticipated. In a few hours Mr. J. arrived, and toward night, our baggage. We had now given up all hope of going to the Isle of France, and concluded either to return to Calcutta, or to communicate our real situation to the tavern keeper, and request him to assist us. As we thought the latter preferable, Mr. J. told our landlord our circumstances, and asked him if he could assist in getting us a passage to Ceylon. He said a friend of his was expected down the river the next day, who was captain of a vessel bound to Madras, and who, he did not doubt, would take us. This raised our sinking hopes. We waited two days ; and on the third, which was Sabbath, the ship