Jonathan and Rosalind walked the half mile to the train station surrounded by hundreds of their friends and coworkers. At the station, the group sang hymns until the conductor yelled, “All aboard!”
They had just enough time for one last parting prayer, and then to the sound of the crowd singing “Onward Christian Soldiers,” Jonathan helped Rosalind onto the train. He quickly found their compartment and rolled down the window and peered out, trying to fix one last image of family and friends in his mind.
The engine belched smoke and steam, and the whistle wailed as the train slowly pulled away from the station. As the train rounded a corner after leaving the station, the sound of the singing finally faded and Jonathan closed the window.
“Let’s pray,” said Jonathan, bowing his head and reaching for Rosalind’s hand. “Lord,” he began, “we don’t know what lies ahead of us, but we pray that whatever happens, You will make us worthy of the great trust so many people have placed in us.”
Chapter 4
China at Last
Jonathan and Rosalind Goforth stood on the dock staring up at the freshly painted hull of the SS Parthia. They had just arrived in Vancouver, British Columbia, and had arranged to board the ship a day early because there were no hotel rooms available in the city. A huge fire had recently swept through town, destroying most of the wooden buildings.
“She looks seaworthy enough,” said Jonathan, tucking his wife’s arm in his. “Let’s go aboard.”
Jonathan led the way up the gangplank, breathing deeply as he savored the salt-laden sea air. He had been on the Great Lakes many times, but he had never before experienced the sight, sound, and smell of the ocean. Once on board, the couple were shown to their cabin. Located on the starboard side of the ship, the small cabin would be comfortable enough for the two-week voyage.
The following morning, February 4, 1888, Jonathan watched eagerly as first the stern line and then the bowline that secured the SS Parthia to the dock were let go and the ship slipped out into Vancouver harbor. The SS Parthia glided around the southern end of Vancouver Island. The sea was calm as the ship passed the city of Victoria and made its way through the Strait of Juan de Fuca, bordered to the south by the majestic Olympic Mountains. Soon afterwards the ship headed out into the Pacific Ocean.
As they hit the open sea, there was a slight swell, and Jonathan noticed that the ship pitched and rolled under his feet more than he had expected it would. The pitching and rolling soon drained the color from Rosalind’s face, and Rosalind excused herself and went below to the cabin to lie down for a few minutes. As the waters of the northern Pacific became rougher, the few minutes lying on her bed feeling seasick turned into hours, and then days.
The voyage quickly turned into a nightmare for Jonathan and Rosalind. It was hard for them to believe that a ship could pitch and heave as much as the SS Parthia did. Even when the sea was calm, the ship rolled violently. Halfway through the voyage, Jonathan found out why. The SS Parthia was twenty-five years old, and for most of those years she had been a cargo passenger ship plying the waters of the North Atlantic between London and New York. The ship had been poorly designed, and after a while her reputation for pitching and rolling had become so well known that no one would book passage on her. Wanting to keep making money, the ship’s owner had brought the vessel to the West Coast of North America to sail the Pacific Ocean. The ship had been repainted and renamed the SS Parthia, and the Goforths were passengers on her “maiden voyage” in the Pacific. Jonathan didn’t think it would be too long before the ship had a reputation in the Pacific as well.
Eventually the terrible ordeal ended, and the SS Parthia docked in Kobe, Japan. Jonathan and Rosalind transferred to a much more stable ship for the final leg of the voyage across the Yellow Sea to Shanghai.
In 1888, Shanghai was known as the jewel of China. It was the place where East met West. It was also a bustling international port city as modern as Paris or London. As the ship moved upriver, Jonathan stood on deck and watched as the great city came into focus. Despite the bustle and varied architecture of Shanghai, Jonathan had little interest in exploring the city for its own sake. He was eager to begin the work he had spent the past four years training for.
As soon as the ship docked, Jonathan disembarked and found a boardinghouse where he and Rosalind could stay. Since there was no Canadian Presbyterian mission in Shanghai or anywhere else in China, he set off to find the headquarters of the China Inland Mission, where he arranged a meeting with other missionaries for the next day. That night as Jonathan and Rosalind dined simply on chicken and rice, Jonathan made notes on the points he needed to cover in his discussions the next day.
At the meeting the following day, missionaries from four other missions were waiting to greet the first Canadian Presbyterian missionary to China. After the formal introductions were completed, these missionaries from various denominations got down to business. Jonathan handed over the large sum of money that had been raised in Canada for famine relief, and then the other missionaries set to advising Jonathan as to which part of China the Canadian Presbyterian Church should focus on as its mission field. By midafternoon it had been decided: The Goforths and any missionaries who joined them would work in the North Honan area, a stretch of land bordered by the Yellow River, the Gobi Desert, and the East China Sea. It was suggested that before the Goforths headed there, they should go to Chefoo, four hundred fifty miles north of Shanghai on the coast. They could stay there near the China Inland Mission station while they learned the basics of the Mandarin language.
Jonathan was pleased by the outcome of the meeting, and he was eager to leave for Chefoo right away. However, one of the missionaries at the meeting persuaded him to stay one more day so that he could visit the famous opium palace of Shanghai.
The opium palace lay in the International Settlement, the part of Shanghai controlled by various European countries. The palace was a magnificent building, well lit and decorated with brilliantly colored silks. Entering it was like entering another world for Jonathan. In each room of the building were narrow beds neatly arranged in rows. On the beds lounged hundreds of Chinese people, many of them well dressed, and all of them high on opium. Some of the people seemed healthy enough to Jonathan, but others had sunken cheeks and rotting teeth. Most of them never even bothered to look up as he and Rosalind squeezed between their beds.
After they had walked through several rooms, the missionary guide led Jonathan and Rosalind out into the narrow street that bordered the palace. Both sides of the street were lined with brothels. Jonathan stood staring at it all for a long time before turning to the guide. “How can this be?” he asked, the heartbreak he felt betrayed in his voice. “The palace and these brothels—they’re in the section of Shanghai controlled by foreign governments.”
“Yes, I’m afraid they are,” replied the missionary guide. “There is no excuse for a building like this being set aside solely to get Chinese people addicted to opium. It’s all about greed. Selling opium to the Chinese makes lots of money for foreign governments, particularly the British.”
Jonathan could scarcely believe what he was hearing. “Do you mean to tell me the British are supplying the opium and allowing these prostitutes to work in their own territory?”
The missionary nodded. “It’s difficult for the Chinese people to understand that we missionaries mean them good when others from ‘Christian’ countries encourage such evil practices in their land.”
“No wonder they call us foreign devils,” interjected Rosalind indignantly.
“Yes. And because the Chinese can’t strike back at these foreign governments, they often strike back against the missionaries serving in rural areas. I’m sure you’re aware that a number of missionaries have been killed recently.”
Jonathan sat in silence as a rickshaw carried him and Rosalind back to their boardinghouse. He was eager to get to Chefoo. There was so much that needed to be done in China, and Jonathan had a dark feeling deep inside that there might not be much time to do it.
A week later Jonathan and Rosalind felt like “real” missionaries. They had rented a long, narrow house with a thatched roof, and Rosalind had started unpacking their belongings and turning the house into a home. The process took her longer than it normally would have, since she was expecting a baby in August and tired easily. Meanwhile, Jonathan hired a Mandarin tutor and threw himself into language learning, helping his wife with the unpacking on his spare evenings.
One night, as Jonathan and Rosalind were finishing dinner, they heard a commotion outside. Jonathan slipped out the door and into the street to see what was going on. He didn’t have to ask. As he looked in the direction everyone was pointing, he froze in horror. The roof of their house was swathed in crackling orange flames, and clumps of fiery thatch from the roof were falling into the back rooms of the house.
“God, help us!” said Jonathan as he turned to look into the panicked eyes of his wife, who had followed him outside. “Stay here,” he ordered. “I’m going inside to see what I can rescue.”
Jonathan ran back into the living room where only moments before he had been enjoying dinner. He scurried into the bedroom and grabbed his study Bible and the money jar. As he dashed out, thick smoke began to fill the house.
“Here, Rosalind, hold these,” he yelled, passing the Bible and money jar to his shocked wife. “I’m going back for more.”
Jonathan was just about to enter the burning house again when he turned to see Rosalind running around in circles, her eyes glazed and distracted. Three Chinese men were moving closer to her. “For goodness sake, Rosalind,” he yelled. “Pull yourself together. Hold on to that jar or someone will steal it.”
Jonathan’s comments snapped Rosalind out of her panic. She stopped running in circles and held tightly to the money jar and her husband’s Bible.
Jonathan entered the house again. The smoke was chokingly thick by now, and burning thatch was falling all around. Jonathan grabbed his wife’s sewing machine and his Mandarin language study notes. He could hear the crackling of the fire on the roof above him as he fled the building.
Outside, Jonathan and Rosalind stood and watched helplessly as everything they had brought with them from Canada, including their wedding presents, the portrait of Rosalind’s father, her mother’s china, and the delicately knitted shawl her sister had made for their first baby, went up in flames.
As the fire began to die down, Jonathan turned and looked into the tear-streaked face of his wife. “Don’t worry, dear,” he said, comfortingly. “They were just things.”
That night Jonathan and Rosalind stayed at the China Inland Mission boarding school and returned the following morning to survey the damage in the light of day. There was nothing left of their home but a pile of smoldering ashes.
“We’ll be all right,” said Jonathan, as cheerful as ever. “God will supply all of our needs. And think of it, Rosalind. We were upset because that beautiful organ could not travel with us. Look what would have happened to it if we’d had it with us now. Instead, it is safe and on its way to us.”
His wife looked up at him and smiled weakly. “I think it will be a long time before I learn to see the good in everything as you do, Jonathan Goforth,” she replied.
A week later Jonathan and Rosalind were settled into their second home in Chefoo and were busily studying Mandarin. Many missionaries in the area kindly gave them furniture, household goods, and clothes. The Goforths also received their first monthly support check from the alumni at Knox College. Despite the fire, Jonathan was surprised by how little they could live on if they were frugal. By April, which marked the first six months of their marriage, Jonathan had been able to give away to other missions the equivalent of ten percent of an entire year’s income. Jonathan was very pleased by this. Being a missionary was not nearly the financial burden he had expected. After balancing the account book, he went off to announce the good news to his wife. He proudly told Rosalind that they had already given enough money for a year’s tithe and they still had six months to go. “What do you think we should do about it?” he inquired.
