John G. Paton, missionary to the New Hebrides, volume 2 (of 3) : $b An autobiography edited by his brotherPaton, John Gibson
Religion
John G. Paton, missionary to the New Hebrides, volume 2 (of 3) : $b An autobiography edited by his brother
Paton, John Gibson
Missionaries -- Vanuatu -- Biography; Paton, John Gibson, 1824-1907
Having persevered along the Learmouth road, I next met a company of men
hastening on with a bundle of ropes. They were on their way to relieve
a poor bullock, which by this time had almost disappeared, sinking in
the mire on the public highway! They kindly pointed me to a light,
visible through the dusk. That was the farm at which I was to stay, and
they advised me to clear the fence, and make straight for that light,
as the way was good.
With thankful heart, I did so. The light was soon lost to me, but
I walked steadily on in the direction thereof, to the best of my
judgment. Immediately I began to feel the ground all floating under
me. Then at every step I took, or tried to take, I sank deeper and
deeper, till at last I durst not move either backward or forward. I
was floundering in a deadly swamp. I called out again and again, and
“coo-ee-d” with all my strength, but there came no reply. It grew
extremely dark, while I kept praying to God for deliverance. About
midnight, I heard two men conversing, apparently at no very great
distance. I began “coo-ee-ing” again, but my strength was failing.
Fortunately, the night was perfectly calm. The conversation ceased for
a while; but I kept on crying for help. At length, I heard one voice
remark to the other,—“Some one is in the swamp.” And then a question
came, “Who’s there?”
I answered, “A stranger. Oh, do help me!”
Again a voice came through the darkness, “How did you get in there?”
And I feebly replied, “I have lost my way.”
I heard the one say to the other: “I will go and get him out, whoever
he may be. We must not leave him there; he’ll be dead before the
morning. As you pass by our door, tell my wife that I’m helping some
poor creature out of the swamp, and will be home immediately.”
He kept calling to me, and I answering his call through the darkness,
till, not without peril, he managed to reach and aid me. Once I was
safely dragged out, he got my bag in his hand and slung my clubs on
his shoulder, and in a very short time landed me at the farm, dripping
and dirty and cold. Had God not sent that man to save me, I must have
perished there, as many others have similarly perished before. The
farmer heartily welcomed me and kindly ministered to all my needs.
Though not yet gone to rest, they had given up all hope of seeing me. I
heard the kind servant say to his mistress,—
“I don’t know where he came from, or how far he has carried his
bundles; but I got him stuck fast in the swamp, and my shoulder is
already sore from carrying his clubs!”
A cup of warm tea restored me. The Lord gave me a sound and blessed
sleep. I rose next morning wonderfully refreshed, though arms and
shoulders were rather sore with the burdens of yesterday. I conducted
three Services, and told the story of my Mission, not without comfort
and blessing; and with gratifying results in money. The people gave
liberally to the work.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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