The surgeon was surprised. “This is a fine time for you to argue with me as to why you shouldn’t die,” he said. “Accept the inevitable. Get home as quickly as you can, or you will not make it home at all.”
Hudson did go home. At first he tried to walk, but he was too weak, so he used his last penny to catch a horse-drawn omnibus. As it rattled along the uneven cobblestone streets, Hudson had to concentrate hard to stay awake. If he fell asleep, he might go right past his stop. Eventually the omnibus came to a stop near the boarding house, where Hudson practically fell out of the vehicle.
The maid met him at the door, and he asked her to get him some hot water. He began climbing up the three flights of stairs that led to his room. He was crawling by the time he got to the top. He had just enough strength left to reach up and turn the doorknob. He crawled into the room, and the maid soon followed with a bowl of hot water which she set down on the floor beside him. Hudson put his hand in the basin of water. After soaking it a minute or two, he took a scalpel from his jacket pocket, clamped his teeth together, and, before he could change his mind, sliced the scalpel into the finger he’d pricked the night before. Searing pain shot up his arm. He dropped the scalpel and began squeezing the wound he’d made on his finger as hard as he could, hoping to squeeze out all of the malignant fever. Blood spurted out, and as it did so, Hudson’s grip loosened, and he slumped backwards and faded from consciousness.
The next thing Hudson knew, he was being dragged into his bed and shaken awake by Uncle Benjamin. As Hudson regained consciousness, Uncle Benjamin told him he’d sent for his own doctor, and soon one of the best doctors in London was standing beside the bed. He examined Hudson from head to toe and confirmed the malignant fever diagnosis. The doctor had one word of hope to offer Hudson. “If you have been living moderately, and not drinking beer late into the night, you might pull through. If you have been drinking and partying, I don’t see any hope for you,” he said.
Hudson would have laughed if his ribs didn’t ache so badly. “If it’s a matter of sober living, then I have more chance of making it than just about anyone I know,” he whispered to the doctor with a smile.
“It’s going to be a hard battle. You will be in and out of consciousness a lot, and if you do recover, it will be months before you are back to your old self. You need to keep your strength up, drink port wine, and eat as many beef chops as you can,” the doctor advised him.
Hudson tried to concentrate, but the doctor’s words faded away as he lost consciousness. He spent several days drifting in and out of consciousness. Uncle Benjamin and Tom took turns looking after him and feeding him the wine and chops the doctor had ordered. Each day the doctor came by to give him quinine to help fight the fever. Hudson was in this zone between life and death for many days. Finally he seemed to turn a corner and begin to get better. Before long he was sitting up in bed, receiving visitors. On one visit, a fellow student told him how two students from a neighboring hospital had both accidentally cut themselves during the dissection of a dead body. Both of them had died. Hudson shuddered. God had truly spared his life so he could go to China.
It was only a few days later that Hudson felt well enough to walk downstairs. Tom helped him, and slowly they made their way down to the parlor. Hudson slumped onto the sofa, exhausted from the effort. But how good it felt to be out of his bedroom. When the doctor arrived to check in on him, he was amazed to find Hudson downstairs in the parlor. The doctor worried about how he would make it up the stairs again. After checking his patient over and asking a few questions, he suggested that Hudson go to the country as soon as his health would allow it. The fresh air and wholesome food would do him good.
Hudson thought about the doctor’s advice for a while. It would be good to go home. For once, the thought of his mother fussing over him seemed wonderful. But there was the matter of money. He didn’t have enough for the train trip back to Barnsley. And if he did get any money, it would surely have to go towards paying the doctor for all his care.
Alone in the parlor, Hudson began to pray about his situation. And as he prayed, he kept feeling that he should go back to the shipping office. Part of him thought this was a crazy idea, like clutching at straws. But another part of him felt that God was directing him to go there. After about an hour, he came to the firm conclusion that God was indeed leading him to go. But when should he go? That was the question. He had been in bed in a weakened state for days. It had taken all his energy to get down the stairs to the parlor, and like the doctor, he too was having doubts about his ability to climb back up them. It would obviously be some time before he could make it to the shipping office. Or would it? There was that little voice in his head again, reminding him that God says all things are possible to those who believe. Hudson believed, so he told God he was willing to make the two-mile walk to the office if God would give him the strength to do it. When he had finished telling this to God, as sick as he still was, a tremendous peace came over him. He asked the maid to fetch his hat and walking stick from upstairs. With a surprised look on her face, she headed off upstairs. When she came back, Hudson was standing at the front door, ready to walk to the shipping office.
Hudson set himself a slow pace. He walked past two shop fronts and stopped for breath at the third. When he came to a hill, he allowed himself to stop at every shop front. In this way, he slowly wound his way through the streets of London. As he walked and stumbled along, he wondered what God’s purpose for this trip would turn out to be. Finally, he sat down heavily on the front steps of the building that housed the shipping office. Businessmen stepped around him as he sat and panted and waited for the strength to climb the stairs to the second-floor office.
Eventually Hudson lumbered up the stairs and entered the shipping office. A look of relief spread across the face of the clerk as he entered. “I’m so glad to see you again, sir,” he said, as Hudson flopped into the nearest chair. “I didn’t know how to contact you. I have some good news. There were two Mr. Finches on the same boat, and it was the other one, not your Mr. Finch, that ran off to the gold fields. It was all a mix-up and I am very sorry. Here is the money we owe you.” He handed Hudson an envelope filled with money.
The clerk went on to ask Hudson about his health, then insisted that he stay and share lunch before heading back home, on an omnibus, of course.
The next day Hudson went to pay the doctor, but since Hudson was in the same profession, the doctor refused payment. Hudson, though, insisted on at least paying for the quinine. The doctor accepted the money, then told Hudson he wasn’t yet strong enough to be out walking around. Hudson told him the story of going to the shipping office the day before. “Impossible!” interrupted the doctor. “Why, I left you lying in the parlor more like a ghost than a man.” Hudson had to assure the doctor over and over that with God’s help, he really had walked all that way. By the time he left the surgery, the doctor was nearly in tears. “I would give all the world to have a faith like yours,” he said, shaking Hudson’s hand.
“You can, it’s free for the asking,” Hudson replied as he turned to leave.
There was just enough money left after paying the doctor for Hudson to buy a train ticket to Barnsley and some good food to eat on the way, and to hire a wagon to take him right to his parents’ home when he got there.
God, it seemed, had everything under control after all.
Chapter 7
“Were You to Remain in England”
Back in Barnsley, Hudson made a quick recovery. The house was warm, the food wholesome, and his mother fussed over him constantly, especially after she found out about his eating habits in London. Amelia and Marianne were also frequent visitors to the house, and their laughter and conversation cheered him. On one of these visits, Hudson finally plucked up the courage to ask Marianne to marry him. He was excited when she agreed and her father gave his permission. Marianne would be his companion in China after all!
After several weeks at home, Hudson received news that his cousin Tom, in London, was sick with rheumatic fever. Since Tom had cared for him when he was sick with malignant fever, Hudson thought it was time to return the favor, so he traveled back to London.
As he sat through the nights caring for Tom, he continually prayed for God to provide a way for him to get to China sooner rather than later.
Unknown to Hudson, as he stood watch beside Tom’s bed, things were happening in China. Since 1644, China had been ruled by an emperor and governing officials who were Manchu people from northeastern China. The Manchu emperor and his government were known as the Qing dynasty. But even though outsiders thought everyone in China was the same, the Chinese people regarded the Manchus as alien outsiders. Of course, this didn’t really worry the Qing dynasty. They had been in power for a long, long time, and they had more than enough troops to keep things that way. Or so they thought. In central China, a long way from Peking, the Qing dynasty’s capital, a rebellion had begun, and it was getting bigger with each passing day. The rebellion was known as the Taiping Rebellion, and those fighting in the rebellion were fighting to overthrow the Qing dynasty. Soon the Taipings had control of much of central China, including the old capital of Nanking. But more important for Europeans than how much territory the Taipings controlled was what their leaders thought about white people. While they wanted the English to stop importing opium into China, the Taipings did not believe that white people were “barbarians,” as many Chinese people did. Instead they believed that all men were brothers and that, rather than being kept out of the interior of China, white people should be allowed to go where they wished and meet with whomever they wanted.
News of the rebellion slowly drifted back to England, and Hudson first read about it in The Gleaner, the newsletter of the Chinese Evangelization Society. He was excited by what he read, but he was also very busy. While taking care of Tom, he had once again run out of money. This time, though, he felt God had a different plan to meet his needs than before. And sure enough, as Hudson prayed about the situation, Dr. Brown from the Bishopsgate area of London offered him a job as his assistant. Not only that, Dr. Brown offered to adjust the hours Hudson worked so that he could continue his medical studies at London Hospital.
Hudson eagerly accepted the position, and since Tom was well enough, he moved in with Dr. Brown and his wife. Soon Hudson’s days were full. After attending classes at the hospital from eight in the morning until three in the afternoon, it was back to Bishopsgate, where he assisted Dr. Brown dispensing medicine, visiting patients, and keeping the doctor’s accounts. When he had finished helping Dr. Brown in the evening, Hudson prayed, studied the Bible, pored over his medical books, and practiced writing Chinese pictographs late into the night. The days were long, but Mrs. Brown’s wonderful cooking seemed to give Hudson the energy he needed to keep going.
Marianne made trips to London to visit Hudson, but with each trip, he couldn’t help noticing that Marianne did not seem to share his enthusiasm. She always had a reason for why she could not stay longer. Finally, after several weeks, he confronted her about it, and she confessed that she did love him, but her mother was very ill, and her father had never really approved of their engagement. Hudson was shocked: Her father had personally given them permission to marry.
Immediately, he wrote to Mr. Vaughan to set things straight. Mr. Vaughan responded very straightforwardly, though not as Hudson wanted or expected. His letter read: “Were you to remain in England, nothing would give me more pleasure than to see you happily married to Marianne. But, though I do not forbid your connection, I feel I can never willingly give her up, or ever think of her leaving this country.”
