VI. The World, the Flesh, and the Devil

For the Rev. Silas Whitely the die was cast. Passing from college to ordination without any fixed ideas as to his own relation to God in his son Jesus Christ, or otherwise, and yielding to the advice of an old college chum, Kennedy Bilcox by name, who at this time was holding the post of Political Officer on the Gold Coast, he had made up his mind to put in an application for the Colonial Chaplaincy at Sekondi rather than continue to face a life of penury as a curate in East London, particularly as he knew a friend or two who would work the back door influence beautifully with the officials at the Colonial Office on his behalf.

“ And what is the screw like,” eagerly asked Whitely, when Bilcox first made the suggestion to him.

“ Oh, it is only a matter of some five hundred a year with an annual rise of twenty-five pounds, until you reach six hundred pounds, besides fees and allowances thrown in here and there, passages in and out free every twelve months, etcetera', etcetera, etcetera, with an assistant chaplain, a black man of course, to save you unnecessary drudgery.”

“ That is quite good enough for me, minus the etceteras, and I am sure I thank you from the bottom of my heart for giving me an inkling of such a billet. By George ! how spoilt you Colonials are; and to think I was going to immure myself in East London for the rest of my natural life! ”

“ But, remember,” put in Bilcox, “ you will be subject to discipline. You must not, for example, join the silly band of ‘ progressives,’ or your chances of promotion will be absolutely nil, and you may even run the risk of being shelved altogether. The process of shelving is a simple one. You get down with fever; you are invalided home; you never return again, that is all.”

“ You needn’t fear about that. I have no proclivities that way, but tell me all about the ‘ progressives ’ on the Gold Coast.”

“ Why, they are a mere handful of white fools who are blind enough not to see where their bread is buttered, and who advocate equal rights for the native, and all that sort of tommy rot. Now, between ourselves,” breaking out into a low mischievous laugh, “ the Lieutenant-Governor himself had progressive leanings when he first came out among us, and would not take the advice of us, old coasters. He seemed then as if he could dine of niggers, pardon a bit of Coast slang, until he was bitten, and bitten pretty sharply too, I can tell you. Now he sings the ‘ progressive ’ tune io longer,” laying particular emphasis on the last sjntiment.

“ But how was he bitten, and by whom? ”

“ By the Eantis, of course. Didn’t you read ia the papers at the time how he was hooted by tie Fanti women in the central province? I was for bombarding their stronghold and sending the niggers flying all over the country, but the old bcunder, the Permanent Secretary at the Colonial Ofice, who, by the way, is the one who really rules tie roost, wouldn’t let us. The thing is too bad, to think of niggers hooting a Lieutenant- Givernor.”

“ I confess, Bilcox, I cannot see the magnitude of the offence. I suppose there must have been scmething to hoot the good Governor for.”

“ Oh, it was all about the Provincial Council qiestion,” answered Bilcox, wearily, as if struck bj a sudden thought. ‘ ‘ I must be going home now. IMy little daughter will be all eagerness to welcome her papa. I came up to London to draw my pay, aid meeting old coasters seems always to arouse tie brute part of one somehow.”

“ How do you mean, Bilcox? ” said Whitely. “Surely you must have a better account of your fellows than that.” Bilcox, ignoring the thrust, said in a sad tone":' “You know, Whitely, sometimes I cannot stand the funny little questions my little daughter puts to me when I return home from Africa. She has an idea that God has made of one blood all nations to dwell on the face of the earth — you know the quotation; it is more in your line. I don’t knov whence she got the notion, but, ‘ papa,’ she wouli jump on my knee, and looking me straight in ths face with her delicate blue eyes, ‘ papa,’ she would begin, ‘ I hope you were very good to those pocr African people whom you have to look after. They say they are sometimes badly treated, bit you will be kind to them, won’t you ? ’ When I am alone, I do think of these things, and my better self whispers to me that the child’s sentiments are right, and that they are directly contradictory to my line of official work.”

“ There is a good deal in what you say. To ie frank, Bilcox, I must say I cannot see, for iistance, why sensible men should go into hysterics because a Lieutenant-Governor was hooted it. Why, I was at a meeting the other day at tie Queen’s Hall when Mr. Balfour was hissed at, aid for a considerable length of time he could not get a hearing. I don’t remember the Hussars beiig called out to punish the naughty little band if British barbarians, as Grant Allen good-humouredly dubs us. And mind you he was the Prine Minister.’’ ‘ ‘ Perhaps that is the reasonable way of looking at the matter, but we all suffer from an affliction known as Coast conscience, and the powers save you, if you, as parson, should get a touch of it when you get out there. As for myself, I shall go quite crazy one of these days, if I don’t soon give up this job.”

In due course the Rev. Silas .Whitely received his appointment as Colonial Chaplain of Sekondi, nor did he find the emoluments of the office in any way exaggerated by his friend the Political Officer. His mother was satisfied, but to do the reverend gentleman justice, before sailing out, his own heart was full of misgiving first as to his own spiritual condition, secondly as to whether he would have the moral courage, in the face of official stress, to do his duty as a man. A few months of coast life, however, soon settled all his doubts. Why should he worry about the matter of his spiritual condition. He was not the first clergyman who had been troubled with conscientious scruples. He would go through the ordinary routine of his work, and, when his term was ended, he would pack up his traps and go. Besides, it appeared that he had set too high an estimate upon the black character. The blacks, he had come to consider, were nothing but a pack of dishonest people, robbing white traders right and left, smuggling contraband goods, and defrauding His Majesty’s Government whenever they could. His duty as a Colonial Chaplain was plain. He must teach these people the elementary principles of honesty, thereby working hand in hand with His Majesty’s judges who had arrived at the same result. It was true there were a few exceptions among the educated class, but he was beginning to entertain doubts as to how to place even that class, and he was not at all sure how he would receive Kwamankra even, whom he assured himself he had known just slightly in the ’Varsity, if hs happened to meet him on the Gold Coast.

The Assistant Colonial Chaplain was the Rev. Kwaw Baidu, who drew an annual stipend of one hundred and fifty pounds. Besides doing the pastoral work along the railway line, including the management of a mission at Tarkwa, he had the bulk of the chaplaincy work thrown upon him, while the Chaplain himself was content to draw his fat pay and take things easy, as, he took care to explain, the medical officer had advised him to do as little as possible on account of the dreadful climate. Outside purely official duties, the Colonial Chaplain had nothing to do with his assistant, who was a highly cultured man, and, in some respects, his senior, having taken a better degree than the Chaplain. Not that the Chaplain was in any way unkind to the Assistant Chaplain. Oh, dear no ! He only wished it to be mutually understood that between them was a natural gulf fixed — the gulf of a difference in their respective social status. So that if the twain happened to be at work together at the chaplaincy, and the Supervisor of Customs, let us say, called, he would politely say: “Mr. Baidu, would you kindly excuse me, you will find the verandah cool and comfortable,” and would never venture upon an introduction.

The Rev. Kwaw Baidu was an humble-minded man, and so long as the Colonial Chaplain did not come in conflict with him upon matters of principle, he did not mind. But, at last, an occasion for stumbling and a rock of offence arose in the shape of the segregation question. The town of Akrokeri had been laid out into a European quarter immediately fronting the railway, and occupying the finest site the neighbourhood yielded, while the native chief and his people who by rights should own the whole surface, save such as was actually required for building purposes by the mines, had, with the connivance of the Government, been located on the steeps of a line of hills to the east, for which they had to pay quarterly rent. But when the question of building a cemetery for the interment of Akrokerites arose, and the European inhabitants put forward the view that on no account would they commingle their dead with the dead of “ niggers,” and the matter was by the Political Officer referred to the chaplaincy for opinion, the Rev. Silas Whitely held that the Europeans were right, and the thing put the Rev. Kwaw Baidu’s back up.

“ Do you mean to say, you an ambassador of Jesus Christ, that you are going to support any such nonsense as this which knocks the bottom out of all Christian charity? No wonder that the people turn a deaf ear to all my appeals. I will speak plainly to you for once. If you do not yield to reason and the spirit of Christ, whom you and I profess to follow, I will report your conduct to the Bishop, and, if need be, I will appeal to the Archbishop of Canterbury.”

“ You may do what you like, Mr. Baidu, but you seem to forget that this is a British Colony, and that the salaries of you and me are paid by the Colonial Government, and not by the Archbishop of Canterbury. Besides, I consider your opposition a piece of impertinence, and you must consider yourself suspended until I have recommended your dismissal to headquarters.”

In due course the Rev. Kwaw Baidu was compulsorily retired from the Colonial service, and a path, thirty-six feet wide, was marked between the European and native cemeteries, and the former beautifully fenced in with money mostly contributed by the black folk. But the matter got noised abroad, and there wasn’t a soul in the diocese of Sekondi that did not come to know of it. A decrepit old woman, limping heavily on her crutches, made her way into the chaplaincy yard and insisted upon speaking to the white chaplain.

The chaplaincy yard was kept scrupulously clean, and the little garden adjacent, with hybiscus and crotons growing in rich profusion, and all bordered with festoons of sweet-peas and scarlet runners in early bloom, showed, as clearly as outside appearances went, that the Rev. Silas Whitely fully appreciated the good things of life.

The Colonial Chaplain had dined well, and was enjoying a Havana under the spreading breadfruit trees which adorned the chaplaincy yard. The full moon threw a spray of silvery light through the myriad leaves of the overspreading branches, casting a halo over his. face quite out of keeping with the mundane thoughts which at the moment engaged the mind of the reverend gentleman.

“ Yes, I believe in even an ambassador of Christ having a good time. Why should I be such a silly ass as to refuse a whisky and soda at the Club? Besides, we must be all things unto all men. That is clearly the scriptural admonition, and it suits my present humour down to the ground. So there goes it; it is done ” — this as he flicked oh the live ashes from his cigar. A deep, low cough arrested the attention of the Rev. Silas Whitely, and he turned to see the direction whence it came. He had thought he was alone.

“ Was it you, Nancy? 55 he said, addressing the old woman. “ What brings you here to-night? ”

The woman addressed curtsied low. She had been brought up in the Mission school, finishing up in the High School, and spoke English with remarkable fluency. She had loved, and she had lost — first husband, then an only son who had been unto the husband as the apple of the eye, and, therefore, doubly dear unto her woman’s heart. Did I say lost ? No, they were not lost. At least thus she had been taught by the missionaries, and when she was sad the chaplain had cheered her with the hope of the resurrection morn. She had come to believe that somewhere, in another sphere, they awaited her; and her one thought was that happy hour, one day, when they would welcome her to a place beside them. She lived for this, and worked for this hope. Now and again she thought she had glimpses of Him who said : “ I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life,” and she had been told the way to Him was to maintain the truth. A heavy burden, for some time back, had sorely pressed upon her heart, which she felt would be lifted by telling the Rev. Silas Whitely the truth, as she conceived it; and so here she was to do it, and yet did not know how. A soft wind rustled the luxuriant foliage overhead, and through the branches the bright stars peeped down upon this simple old woman whose only wish was to be in harmony with Nature’s God. A sudden inspiration, like the wind blowing where it listeth, came to her. She would tell the chaplain a story, as she had heard he was fond of Fanti stories, and was wont to collect them; and what better time than a moonlight night in Africa for telling stories ?

Nancy laid aside her crutches, took a low stool offered her by the Chaplain, and cleared her throat of a troublesome cough or two. “ I have a nice story to tell you, sir, to add to your collection, and, as I was feeling a little stronger this evening than usual, I thought I would come in.”

“ Certainly, quite welcome,” said the Rev. Silas Whitely. “ Fire away, Nancy; I am all eagerness to hear you begin.”

£C Once upon a time,” Nancy began in a clear, sonorous voice, “there went into a far distant country two Mahomedan priests to work for Allah. After a time their paths lay in different districts, and they seldom heard of one another. As was their wont, the missionaries worked in leather and other useful industries ; but, as it happened, Akarbah succeeded and grew rich in worldly goods, while Adaku, his friend, merely lived from hand to mouth; yet did Allah bless his labours. As is the way of the world, Akarbah’s society was now sought by the highest in the land; and when he counted his beads at the hour of prayer, he failed not to thank Allah for all the good He gave.

“ One day as he returned from the house of prayer he met an errand boy, who handed him a bit of parchment, written in Arabic. He opened it, and found it was a message from his brother missionary, who, he knew, was low and humble in the things of this world. ‘ This day,’ so the message ran, ‘ I, Adaku, thy brother missionary, shall lodge with thee.’

“ Akarbah frowned. It was very inconvenient. This very day the High Sheriff was to dine with him, the rich and prosperous Akarbah, and what would he say if he met at his table a mendicant friar of a Mahomedan priest? He was resolved. The thing must not be. ‘ Here, lad, take this parchment back quickly to my brother Adaku. Make sure and give it to him, and I will give you my blessing and a silver piece upon your return.’

“The lad ran past the camels and the horses and the cattle in the market places, and went out by the fifth gate of the city to find the priest Adaku was not at the place where he expected him to be. Adaku had already entered by the seventh gate, and was already within the holy precincts o+’ the abode of Akarbah.

“ ‘ Hail, brother,’ was Adaku’s salutation. ‘ May Allah be ever more gracious to thee.’ “For answer Akarbah visibly trembled with agitation. ‘ Did you not receive the parchment ? ’ Adaku stared vacantly at his friend. ‘ What parchment? ’

“ Akarbah gave no answer, but suddenly left the precincts of his abode, as if struck by a sudden thought. The hours passed, but they did not bring Akarbah. At last the truth dawned upon Adaku. c Evidently I am not wanted here,’ and, putting on his sandals and snatching his staff, he passed out of the house of his friend, shaking the dust off his feet as he did so, and never forgetting to mention him, not in anger, it is said, when he counted his beads in the house of Allah.”

“ What a funny story, Nancy; whatever do you mean? ” said the Rev. Silas Whitely, as the old woman finished what she had to say.

“ Yes, it is funny,” she said; “ but you know, chaplain, I have lately had such grave doubts as to whether what you tell us in those beautiful sermons you read out every Sunday about the love of God, of heaven, and the rest of it can all be true ; and oh ! whatever shall I do after all these years of weary waiting, if they are not true ? Where is my husband, and where my son? ” and it was painful to see the distress and the anguish in the face of the poor woman.

“ Don’t go on like that, Nancy. But what is there to make you doubt of heaven and the love of God? ” a The old woman dried a tear or two, and said very slowly and deliberately :

“ Chaplain, yon asked me when I had done telling my story what I meant by it. I have prayed to God night and day for some time to be able to answer that self-same question when it came, and now, God helping me, I will. Know thou, then, that thou art the Akarbah of my story. God hath exalted you above thy fellows that thou mightest be a guide unto us his forlorn little ones, and show us the way of love and the way to heaven. But surely thou hast not dealt in love with thy brother, Kwaw Baidu, who is now out of work, with wife and children depending upon him, whose story is known to all the parishioners for miles and miles around. And oh ! if the heaven you have so often preached about hath two ways leading to it, one for us black folk and one for you our masters, what an undesirable place it must be for us after all the weariness here below. But do tell me — you who have raised the hope in me — where is now my husband, and where my child? ” ejaculated the poor woman, wringing her hands. “ Tell me, for thou hast helped to raise false hopes in me. Oh, God ! what shall I do ? ” And the poor woman swooned away in a dead faint. Every effort was made to revive her, without success, and when the doctor arrived he pronounced life extinct.