It was now mid-November, and each morning Hudson walked to the docks to see if there was news of the Swiftsure’s arrival. When there was no word on its arrival after many days, he began to wonder if it had been shipwrecked. He was even more anxious after he heard the news that the Dumfries had been wrecked on the return voyage to England, though thankfully Captain Morris and his crew had been saved.
Finally, on November 27, 1854, two weeks late, the Swiftsure sailed up the Hwang-poo River to Shanghai. The ship docked, and Hudson greeted the Parkers warmly. To his surprise, although the Parkers left England with two children, they arrived in Shanghai with three. Mrs. Parker had given birth during the voyage.
Hudson arranged for some coolies to carry their baggage, and nine months after he’d made the same trek himself, he led them all through the streets of the International Settlement to the London Mission Society compound.
At the compound, he showed the Parkers to the new headquarters of the Chinese Evangelization Society. Even with Hudson’s belongings spread around the house, it looked empty. There was little furniture in the house, because all Hudson’s money had gone towards paying the rent. Buying furniture had to wait.
The next morning, Hudson and Dr. Parker, an independent-minded Scotsman, went down to the British Consulate to collect the mail. Dr. Parker had been told that the Chinese Evangelization Society would have a letter of credit waiting for him when he arrived. And just as Hudson had been, Dr. Parker was shocked when no such letter was waiting for him. It was a familiar story by now to Hudson.
It was good, though, having a fellow worker in the mission. Hudson and Dr. Parker would sit and talk and scheme and plan late into the evening. Yet despite the company, Hudson felt gloomy. He’d been in China nearly a year now, and he was still stuck in Shanghai. He ached to be able to start moving inland. But with the war and the hostile attitude towards foreigners, there was little he could do until the situation changed. And of course, he was the “most experienced” missionary in the Chinese Evangelization Society, and with that came the responsibility for taking care of the Parkers. It was ironic. Here in Shanghai, the heart of China seemed further from Hudson’s reach than it ever had back in England.
Finally, in February 1855, Hudson got some good news. Alexander Wylie and John Burdon had managed to organize permits that would allow them to travel inland for one week, and they wanted Hudson to go with them.
On the second day of their trip, they decided to hold a worship service on top of a hill from which they could see Shanghai far off in the distance. It was a beautiful spot, and they were soon lost in thanking God for His wonderful creation and for allowing them the privilege of being His servants in China. As they worshipped, Hudson glanced in the direction of Shanghai and saw a huge cloud of smoke rising from the city. It could mean only one thing: Shanghai had fallen to the Imperial Army. But at what cost? The three men abandoned their trip and hurried back to Shanghai, not knowing what they would find. As they made their way back, they passed fleeing people who told the three missionaries that rather than give up, the Red Turbans had blown up the south gate and set fire to the city. The Imperial Army had then entered the city and begun killing people. It was a bloodbath, and the terror of it was written on the faces of those fleeing.
When they reached the city, they found it just as they had been told. There were bodies everywhere. It seemed as though there wasn’t a house or building in the whole city that wasn’t burned. Death and destruction were everywhere. Looking at the scene made Hudson feel sick.
Fortunately, except for the damage of a few stray cannonballs, the International Settlement escaped unscathed.
That night, for the first time since Hudson had arrived in China, the city of Shanghai was silent. There were no bombs, no explosions. There was only the silence of death.
The missionaries worked hard in the following weeks, ministering to those who had survived the slaughter. And slowly from the rubble a new Shanghai began to rise.
Since their earlier trip had been cut short, Hudson and John Burdon decided to make another one. This time they would head for Tung-chow, farther up the Yangtze River. Tung-chow was also known as “Satan’s Seat,” because the people of the city were so lawless and hard to control. There was so much crime in the city that most Chinese people chose to avoid it altogether.
They hired two small junks and headed up the river. When they reached the dock, the captains of the two junks became very worried about Hudson and John Burdon’s safety. Surely they had heard of the city’s reputation? So Hudson thought of an escape plan. If he and John Burdon did not return by nightfall, one junk was to go back down river to Shanghai as quickly as possible with the news they had been captured. The other junk would anchor near the dock just in case the two men managed to escape.
With their plan made, both men slept soundly and packed their bags at first light.
The city of Tung-chow was actually a distance from the dock on the river, so Hudson, John Burdon, and a servant began the walk to town. The road, though, was very rough, and they had to walk slowly. Finally they decided it would be quicker to hire wheelbarrows and pushers to take them to Tung-chow. Wheelbarrows were a common form of transportation in China. They were large enough so that a man could sit in one with room left over for baggage. They hired three wheelbarrows and loaded themselves in, along with the Chinese Bibles and tracts they were carrying, and held on for the ride.
The wheelbarrow pushers knew every bump in the road and guided their barrows around most of them. As they bounced along, the servant who was accompanying them had time to think about where he was going and with whom. Finally, when someone spat at him for traveling with “foreign devils,” it became too much for him. He yelled for the wheelbarrow pushers to stop and begged Hudson and John Burdon to let him return to the junks. Seeing how scared he was, the two missionaries agreed.
They were getting close to the city when an important-looking man motioned for them to stop. He spoke to them in Mandarin and begged both of them to turn around. Tung-chow was not a safe place for foreigners, and he didn’t think they deserved to die there.
The man walked on, but now the wheelbarrow pushers were unwilling to go any farther. They were convinced the “foreign devils” riding in their wheelbarrows would be attacked and killed, and if they were in the way, they might be killed too. So they ordered Hudson and John Burdon out and jogged off with their barrows in the opposite direction.
Hudson found two new wheelbarrow pushers willing to take them into the city, but they demanded to be paid “danger money” for their effort. Eventually, without their servant, and with new pushers, Hudson and John Burdon found themselves entering the west gate of Tung-chow.
They climbed out of their wheelbarrows. Dust and sweat had mixed together to form little rivers of mud that ran down their necks and dripped from their brows. Hudson pulled some Bibles from his bag and began asking people if they could read. If a person said he could, he gave him a Bible and explained that it was God’s message to him. Several people thanked him. Things seemed to be going quietly, but not for long. A huge, drunken man pushed his way to the front of the crowd that had gathered around the two men, grabbed Hudson by the throat, and began choking him. Hudson gasped and spluttered and tried to pry the man’s hand off his throat.
John Burdon began yelling, “We demand to be taken to the mandarin.”
The drunken man loosened his grip on Hudson. “We know what to do with you!” he sneered.
A roar went up from the crowd, and people began poking at the two missionaries with sticks. “Kill the foreign devils,” they began to chant.
By now, Hudson’s captor was dragging him along by the neck. Another two men were dragging John Burdon. Even so, John Burdon was able to reach into his bag and throw out tracts to the people.
Throwing out tracts, though, annoyed many people in the mob. They began jabbing their sticks at the two missionaries with greater force than before.
“Remember how the apostles rejoiced that they were counted worthy to suffer in the cause of Christ,” Hudson yelled back to John Burdon in English.
The huge, drunken man tightened his grip on Hudson’s throat so he could say no more. Hudson had to do something, but what? He remembered his identity card in the left pocket of his pants. Slowly, he slid his hand down into the pocket. He could feel the card. Quickly he grabbed it and waved it in the air.
“I demand to be taken to the mandarin,” he yelled.
The sight of an official identity card quieted the mob. The card meant the two men they were dragging along probably had important friends. Perhaps it would be better to take them to the mandarin after all, they decided.
Hudson slumped down in front of the mandarin’s house, totally exhausted. His throat burned, and his whole body felt out of joint. The ringleaders of the mob went inside to talk to the mandarin. The rest of the mob crowded in around the two of them. John Burdon, though, saw a great opportunity. Here was a large crowd who had never heard about Jesus. He propped himself up against a wall for support and began preaching to the crowd.
A few minutes later, the mandarin’s servants came out and dragged Hudson and John Burdon inside the gates. They pulled the two of them to their feet and told them they were going to see Ch’en Ta Lao-ie (the Great Venerable Grandfather Ch’en), the mandarin of Tung-chow.
Hudson and John Burdon were led into a room filled with polished wood furniture and painted silk pictures. The Great Venerable Grandfather Ch’en sat on a cushioned chair at the far end of the room.
The mandarin welcomed them both. He took them into a private room and offered them some tea. Hudson was glad to drink it, as it soothed his throat. Grandfather Ch’en explained to them that he knew many things. He had been an official in Shanghai and knew about the Treaty of Nanking, and that foreigners were not to be treated roughly. He asked what they were doing in Tung-chow, and since Hudson spoke the better Mandarin, he answered Ch’en’s questions. He explained that they were bringing the truth of God to the people of the city, and how they had not meant to cause a disturbance. He also explained that the crowd had not treated them kindly and that he hoped things might go more smoothly from now on.
The mandarin nodded. He was glad the visitors had not complained about his citizens, like most foreigners would. These were foreigners who knew some Chinese manners.
Hudson asked the Great Venerable Grandfather Ch’en if he could leave a Bible for him to read and if they could give out the rest of their Bibles and tracts in the town.
The mandarin nodded his head. And more, he even provided them with an escort so they would not be disturbed again.
This time, out on the streets, Hudson and John Burdon were treated as important guests of the mandarin. If people did not move out of the way quickly enough and let them through, their escorts used their long queues as whips to clear the way. So, with the protection of the mandarin’s pigtail-whipping guards, the two missionaries gave out the last of their tracts and Bibles.
Much to everyone’s surprise, the missionaries arrived back at the junks in one piece and before dark.
During the next year, Hudson, accompanied by various other missionaries, made several more trips inland from Shanghai. He also took a trip down the coast to another of the treaty ports, Ning-po. Dr. Parker accompanied him on that trip. There were many missionaries working in Ning-po, and there were also lots of foreign merchants and officials. But in all the city, there was no medical clinic or doctor. Hudson and Dr. Parker prayed and talked about the opportunity that existed. Finally, they decided that Dr. Parker and his family should move to Ning-po and set up a hospital.
