Once the ship was tied up, the crew of the Packet were led out of the hold. By now they were filthy, and their eyes squinted against the bright sunlight. Adoniram wondered what would happen to him, since he wasn’t a member of the crew. A gentle prod in the back with a bayonet gave him his answer.
“Over there, with the others,” growled a sailor in French.
Adoniram had picked up a few words of the language by now, and he knew exactly what was expected of him. He joined the crew of the Packet as they were tied together with long ropes and marched down the gangplank and into the street below. He grimaced as he stood between the cook and one of the helmsmen from the Packet. The rancid odor of the men’s unwashed bodies made him gag.
“Faster, faster,” yelled the sailor with the bayonet. Adoniram felt the tug of the rope in front of him, and he walked forward into the surging crowd, which parted for them. The people jeered and spat on the English prisoners. Adoniram knew he had to do something, but what? He was in a strange country, roped to two other men and being marched off to prison. Recalling every bit of French he had learned aboard the L’Invincible Napoleon, he began to shout to the passers-by, telling them, or so he thought, that he was an American citizen and should be freed at once.
Adoniram’s words had an unusual effect on the crowd, who went wild when they heard them, slapping their sides and laughing until the tears rolled down their cheeks. After several minutes of this, Adoniram began to think he was using the wrong words and that he was doing more harm than good. So he decided to switch to English. “This is an outrage,” he yelled in his booming voice. “I am a citizen of a country that is not at war with you. How dare you capture me on the high seas and bring me here against my will. I demand to see a judge at once.”
One of the guards leading the prisoners raised his pistol and threatened to beat Adoniram with it, but Adoniram kept on yelling. More than anything, Adoniram knew that if he ended up in prison with the British sailors, it could be years before he saw sunlight and freedom again. Ann was waiting to marry him when he got back to Boston, and the American Board was counting on him to secure the money needed for the first American missionaries to be sent out. But most of all, the people of Burma needed to hear the gospel. Adoniram could not allow himself to go to prison. He raised his voice and shouted some more.
Chapter 7
The Stranger
Be quiet,” a low male voice came from the crowd. “Be quiet or they’ll blow your head off.”
Adoniram stopped yelling long enough to look around. Who had spoken to him in English?
“Over here,” the voice came again.
Adoniram turned and stared into the face of an American military officer.
“What’s your name?” the officer asked Adoniram as he walked along keeping pace with the prisoners. “What are you doing here?”
Now that Adoniram had found someone to listen to him, he lowered his voice and quickly told his story to the military officer.
“I’ll try to help. Be patient,” the officer said as he faded into the jeering crowd.
Now as Adoniram marched along the cobblestone street he had some hope. An American man out there knew who he was and that he needed help. But would it be enough? Would the man really go out of his way to help a stranger? Adoniram would have to wait and see.
When the prisoners from the Packet finally reached the prison, they were thrown into a dungeon. As he sat with his back against a damp, moss-covered brick wall, Adoniram prayed that the stranger would not forget him.
Several hours passed. Adoniram guessed it was about seven o’clock at night—though he had no way of knowing for sure—when the door to the dungeon creaked open. Framed against the oil light in the hallway was the stranger, wearing a billowing military cloak. He spoke in French to the jailer, who stepped forward and grabbed a lamp off a hook on the wall. The jailer grunted as he handed the lamp to the stranger.
Adoniram sat silently, hugging his knees and watching every move. The stranger walked slowly around the cell, shining the lamp up to the faces of the prisoners. “Non,” he said as he peered at each face. When he came to Adoniram, he held up the lamp briefly and again said, “Non.”
The jailer spoke a few sentences in French. The stranger nodded and turned to hang the lamp back on the hook on the wall. As he did so, he swirled his cloak around Adoniram.
Adoniram felt the cloak enfold him, and in a flash he understood the stranger’s daring plan. He crouched beneath the cloak and clasped his arms around the man’s waist. He felt the man begin to walk, and Adoniram matched his footsteps. As they “walked” out of the dungeon, Adoniram heard the wooden door thump shut behind them, and then he heard the clink of coins being handed over. “Just a bit farther,” he heard the American military officer whisper.
Half squatting, half standing under the huge cloak, Adoniram walked step for step with the stranger to the front of the prison, where more money was handed over. Then, with the clang of the metal gate behind him, Adoniram knew he was out in the open street. The American man whipped the cloak off him and whispered “Follow me” as he set off running down the street. Adoniram followed the man through the darkness until they reached the docks.
“Over here,” the stranger said. “Quickly, they have the gangplank lowered for us.”
The two men sprinted up the gangplank and onto the deck of a sloop.
“You’ll be safe here,” the American officer said. “I’ve made arrangements for the captain to hide you. Get out of France as soon as you can.” With that the man turned and hurried off back the way he had come.
Adoniram stood on the deck, breathless and amazed. Less than an hour ago he had been in a dark, damp dungeon. Now he was aboard a ship, staring up at a starry night! And what was more, he had no idea who the man was or why he had helped him.
It took Adoniram until May, four months after setting sail from Boston, to finally reach London. Nevertheless, Adoniram was pleased to learn he had arrived at a good time. The governing board of the London Missionary Society was about to hold its annual meeting, and it was happy to allow Adoniram time to present the American Board’s case for support directly to the board. Also, a letter of encouragement from the American Board, plus money for the passage home, was waiting for the young missionary-to-be.
Adoniram immediately sent a letter of thanks back to the American Board. Then he set about preparing his presentation. It was not until he was actually repeating what he had been sent to say that he realized just how unlikely it was that his proposal would be accepted. Basically, he was telling the London Missionary Society that four young, inexperienced American men would like to be sent out as American missionaries. However, Adoniram explained, since they had no money and it seemed unlikely they could raise it, they wanted the London Missionary Society to sponsor them while leaving the control of where they went and what they did there in the hands of the American Board.
The members of the governing board of the London Missionary Society (LMS) listened politely to what Adoniram had to say. When he was done, they told him that while they admired his enthusiasm, there was no way the London Missionary Society was going to pass over English missionaries to sponsor foreigners over whom they would have little or no authority. Adoniram could see their point, and he began to think of an alternate plan. More than anything he wanted to get to the mission field, and he didn’t much care who sponsored him. So he asked the London Missionary Society if they would send him and the three other missionary candidates out as LMS missionaries and not involve the American Board. He argued that it was more important for him to go than to be officially known as an American missionary. After some discussion, the London Missionary Society agreed to the request. If the other three missionary candidates agreed, the LMS would send all four of them out, and the American Board would have to find some other way to support the missionaries it wanted to send out.
Adoniram had what he wanted as he boarded the Augustus in June 1811, bound for New York City. He had found a way to get himself and his three friends to East Asia as missionaries. Yet he couldn’t help feeling disappointed that in all the United States there was not enough interest in missions to be able to sponsor four missionaries.
When he reached New York, Adoniram was tempted to catch a stagecoach straight back to Massachusetts, but something had bothered him on the voyage home, something he had to take care of before he went one step farther.
The last time he had been in New York was three years earlier, when he had joined up with a group of swindlers masquerading as a troop of actors. Now it was time to pay back all the people he had cheated during that time. He told himself there was no point in being a missionary if he left unpaid debts at home. It took him three days to track down all the innkeepers he owed money to, and much to their surprise, he paid each one of them back. When he had finished, his conscience was clear and he felt free to go home.
Some encouraging news was waiting for Adoniram when he finally got back to Massachusetts. Mr. Norris, who had helped pay Adoniram’s passage to London, had from the start been a strong supporter of the idea to send out American foreign missionaries. He had died while Adoniram was away, and he had left thirty thousand dollars to the American Board.
“Thirty thousand dollars!” gasped Adoniram when he heard the news. “That’s more than enough to send out four missionaries and their wives. We will be able to go out with the American Board after all.”
Adoniram wished he could start planning right away with Samuel Newell and Gordon Hall, but they were both in Philadelphia studying medicine as a way to better prepare themselves for missionary work. The four missionaries-to-be had decided to make their way to India and from there see what missionary opportunities awaited them in the Far East. Of course, there was no doubt in Adoniram’s mind as to where he was headed. God was calling him to Burma.
Adoniram also had something else he wanted to discuss with Samuel Newell. While Adoniram had been away, Samuel had become engaged to one of Ann’s closest friends, seventeen-year-old Harriet Atwood. Ann was very excited about the idea, because now she would have someone to discuss “female” things with on the mission field. Adoniram wasn’t so sure it was a good idea, though. Harriet was a slightly built young woman who had previously suffered from tuberculosis. To him she looked as though a good puff of ocean breeze would blow her right off the deck of the ship! He wondered how she would even survive a sea voyage to India, let alone worry about what lay ahead at the other end.
Time began to drag for Adoniram, who was eager to be on his way. But John Norris’s will had been contested by some members of his family, and although it seemed certain the American Board would prevail in court and get the money promised it, it all took time. To make matters worse, the newspapers were reporting that the United States was about to go to war with England. When that happened, all merchant shipping would stop. After reading this, leaving became a matter of urgency for Adoniram, who felt that if he didn’t go now, he might never go. After several days of discussions with the slow-moving missions board, it was finally agreed that until the inheritance was made available, the board should seek some other way to raise the money the missionaries would need.
The minutes of the meeting of the American Board that day recorded, “Messrs. Adoniram Judson Jr., Samuel Nott Jr., Samuel Newell, and Gordon Hall were appointed missionaries to labor under the direction of this board in Asia, either in the Burman Empire, or in Surat, or in Prince of Wales Island, or elsewhere, as in view of the Prudential Committee, Providence shall open by the most favorable door.”
