At the last moment she was busy packing when messengers arrived from a
far-off township with intelligence that a young freeman had
accidentally shot his hand while hunting, and a request that she would
come to him with medicine. She was weak and ill: she was expecting
tidings of the steamer; she was beset with visitors from all parts who
had come to bid her farewell. Telling them what to do, and asking them
to let her know only if serious symptoms set in, she gave them what was
needed. Almost immediately came secret news that the man had died, that
his brother had wounded one of the chiefs, and that all the warriors of
the latter had been ordered to prepare for fighting on the morrow. She
never knew how this message had come or who had brought it. She made up
her mind to proceed to the spot, but the chief people about her opposed
the idea. They pointed to her weakness, and the probability of her
missing the steamer. They enlarged on the savage character of those
concerned. "They own no authority"; "They will insult you in their
drunken rage"; "The bush will be full of armed men, and they will fire
indiscriminately;" "The darkness will prevent them recognising you."
But they could not prevail upon her to relinquish what she thought was
a duty to those who had sought her aid. She, however, compromised by
consenting to take two armed attendants with lanterns, and to call at a
chief's place some eight miles distant, and secure a freeman to beat
the Egbo drum before her, thus letting the people in the fighting area
know that a free protected person was coming.
She reached their village about midnight. The chief was reported to be
at his farm, and she was urged to lie down until the morning, She
suspected that he was not many yards away, and she persuaded a
messenger to carry an urgent request to him for an escort and drum. The
reply was in the language of diplomacy all the world over:
"I have heard of no war, but will enquire regarding it in the morning.
If, in the event of there being war, you persist in going on you prove
your ignorance of the people, who from all time have been a war-loving
people, are not likely to be helped by a woman."
This put her on her mettle.
"In measuring the woman's power," she responded, "you have evidently
forgotten to take into account the woman's God."
She decided to go on. The people were astonished, not so much at her
folly in risking her life as in daring to disobey the despot, who held
their fate in the hollow of his hand. Somewhat chilled by her
unsympathetic reception she started, without much enthusiasm, on her
journey, but with her faith in God as strong as ever.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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