One day two men called upon me, who were not to be suspected of any inclination to Christianity. They told me that the sea had been dreadfully rough during the whole night in which they were on their way to Gaboon. They thought they would all be lost. One of these two men said to the others: “We have been sinning against God, for we have been travelling to the market all this Sabbath day, and we know that it is wrong.” Then they all prayed to God, as the Christians pray, asking that He would forgive them and save them. I asked him why he did not trust his fetishes in the hour of need; for he had enough of them on him. “Fetishes are nothing,” he replied; “it was only an angry God that we feared.” There was a great deal of ignorance in all this; but it showed that they were far removed from their former faith in fetishes; for in the crisis they forsook the fetishes, and turned to God. The care of all these new converts, or catechumens, added an entirely new department to my work, and already the departments were numerous. A convert is baptized and received into the church only after he has been two years on probation; and during those two years he is supposed to receive a regular course of instruction. These Christians were now asking for such instruction that they might be received into the church. My purpose had been to form a class in each of the towns where Christians resided, and to place a catechist in charge of several adjacent towns, who would live among the people, and teach them daily. But my catechists were not yet ready, though for some time I had been preparing for the emergency. In connection with the school I had a class of young men, to whom I had been giving special attention, in the hope that they might be fitted for the work of catechists. Yielding to the exigency of circumstances, I placed three of these, Amvama, Obiang, and Eyena, in three principal towns to teach the people. It was a mistake, however, and I soon recalled them. During the next year I concentrated my efforts upon this class of catechists, and meanwhile, I visited these groups of Christians as often as possible, just to keep up their courage. My catechists accompanied me in my itinerating, and much of their training was in the actual work of preaching and teaching, and in discussions and criticisms as we travelled between the towns. But occasional and desultory teaching did not answer the needs of these new converts. It was hard to keep them waiting; for they had delivered up their fetishes, and were helplessly asking, “What shall we do next?” I kept them waiting a whole year before I sent out the catechists. Those were strainful as well as joyful times, and it was then that I received the name by which all the Fang came to know me, “_Mote Ke Ye_,”—_Man who doesn’t sleep_.