As the sun set behind the hills toward the west, Robbie and Ruth crossed the bridge leading toward home. They were coming from a visit with Kuo-hwa and several other church members.
Since the uprising in Wuhu, the spiritual climate around eastern China had steadily degenerated. Though most of the continued troubles were concentrated along the Yangtze valley, the plain of its delta had not gone untouched. Robbie and Wallace had redoubled their efforts to strengthen and unify the body of believers in the district against further testings of their faith. The village people had been genuinely frightened by the news that had begun to leak down from the regions closer to the great river. Missions in Nanking, Protestant and Catholic alike, had been broken into and burned. In Wusueh, two English missionaries had been murdered.
There had been a few minor flare-ups in the Wukiang district, but Wallace had taken a strong lead in being an example to his flock to pray for and demonstrate charity toward their oppressors. Thus far, such a nonviolent response to the trouble that occasionally arose had been successful; the troublemakers, usually so taken aback by the peaceful responses of their Christian neighbors, had dispersed peacefully without serious incident. Yet the situation remained tense, for though most villagers wanted no part of the trouble, there were still more than a few rabble-rousers who were caught up in the doings elsewhere, and still others with grievances whose volatile emotions could easily spark an incident.
“Look over there, Papa,” said Ruth, stopping on the bridge and pointing toward a colorfully decorated small sampan gliding down the river.
It was a “meeting boat,” in which a groom carried his new bride to the home of her new family. The sight was comforting, for it indicated that the minds and hearts of the village folk were not totally preoccupied with the tumultuous political events of the last weeks and months. A wedding brought hope and joy, and Robbie felt an unrestrained smile rise to his lips. He and Ruth waved as the boat passed beneath them, watching until it turned into the smaller river and disappeared from sight.
“Ah, lass,” said Robbie thoughtfully as they resumed their walk, “we must never lose sight of God’s promises. ‘We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed!’ He is with us, little Chi-Yueh, we have no need to fear.”
“I am not afraid, Papa.”
“I cannot help being a wee bit afraid at times,” replied Robbie, smiling to himself. He could still recall the days when it had not been so easy to make such an admission.
“Grandfather says that perfect love casts out all fear.”
“So he does!” Robbie tossed back his head and laughed a free and easy laugh. “He is right, and he has told me those very words many times. We are indeed blessed, Ruth. Come, I’ll race you to the mission!”
Still laughing, Robbie allowed his giggling daughter several paces lead before jogging after her.
“I’m about to catch you!” he shouted merrily, but in a concerted burst of effort, Ruth sprinted ahead, and Robbie found he had to work a good deal harder than expected in order to keep pace. She is growing up, he thought. Soon she’ll be able to win in a legitimate race! He let her get to the compound yard first, where he planned to jog up breathlessly behind her, declaring her the fastest girl in Wukiang.
But before she reached the residence, Ruth stopped dead still in the middle of the yard. Intent on the race, Robbie nearly collided with her.
“’Tis no way to give me the lead!” he joked, catching his balance. But one look at her face showed him she was no longer laughing. Instead, an intense look of questioning had supplanted the earlier merriment.
“What is it, Ruth—?” Suddenly as he looked up, he saw the cause for the unexpected change in her countenance. The mission had a visitor, and she had been the first to notice him.
Before him was a sight Robbie had never expected to see again.
Although now that he found himself standing face to face with Benjamin Pike’s withered and aging form, Robbie knew that another encounter with the man was inevitable sooner or later. His throat tightened, and instinctively he reached out and pulled Ruth protectively near to him. Every fiber within him screamed out for vengeance; even if he had wanted to, he could not control the sudden look of violence that spread across his face. Pike was quick to note it.
Leaning against the chapel door, he shook his head with mock dismay.
“Robbie, lad,” he said, “is that any way to greet a dear old friend?”
Robbie made no immediate reply, merely gaping ahead; how could Pike speak in his old tone as if nothing had ever happened?
“Surely,” Pike went on, “ye can’t be holding old mistakes against me after all these years.”
Robbie swallowed hard. The words which finally came from his mouth were forced and terse. “What do you want with me?”
Robbie had often wondered what he would do if he ever saw Pike again. He had never let that line of thinking progress far enough to come to a conclusion. He had gradually come to consider Pike a part of the long-distant past, forgotten and gone forever. But now here he was facing his old skipper as if the years had been but the blink of an eye. Here he was, an unresolved agony from the past, and with sight of him, years of pent-up bitterness and unforgiveness rose up from within Robbie. Why had he come back now? What new horrors would he bring with him this time?
“Papa,” came Ruth’s voice as if from a fog, “he’s hurt like you.”
The sound of her voice struck him with a jolt—there was compassion in her tone. Did she expect him to pity the miscreant? Dear God, you can’t ask such a thing of me!
“Blimey!” croaked Pike, with a gloat that must have been intended to have a fatherly appearance, “do me ears deceive me, or do ye gots yerself a young’un? A China doll at that, ye old sea dog!”
“Get out of here, Pike!” Robbie could take almost anything, but not to hear Pike’s evil lips speak degradingly of his daughter, Hsi-chen’s daughter. “We want nothing to do with you.”
“Papa?” said Ruth, puzzled. She had never heard her father speak thus to anyone.
“Go into the house, Ruth,” Robbie snapped. When she hesitated, he added sharply, “Quickly!”
She scurried away, but Robbie did not relax even when she was safely behind the closed door of the residence.
“I ain’t got no other place to go,” said Pike pitifully as soon as they were left alone. “I told myself, Robbie was ne’er one to hold a grudge, especially now as I heard ye gots religion. I says to myself, Robbie Taggart won’t turn me out.”
“Well, you’re wrong! I can and I will!”
But even as Robbie spoke, words that he heard from the lips of his own daughter only a few moments earlier came tumbling like an accusation back into his agonized mind. “Perfect love . . .” I cannot be expected to love him, God! That’s asking too much!
But a quiet voice within gently responded to his cry. “Just such as he I gave my life for. Do you think I love Benjamin Pike any less than I do your daughter Ruth . . . or you? Yes, Robbie, I do expect you to love—and forgive.”
I can’t! cried Robbie in silent misery.
Pike had in the meantime hobbled on his crutch down the chapel steps, and Robbie saw more clearly how pathetic the old sailor had become. His clothes were mere rags and hung pitifully from his emaciated body. His scant, greasy hair was now completely gray, and his bloodshot eyes were rheumy and dull. Under any other circumstances, his was a figure toward whom Robbie would have felt instant compassion and pity. But stubbornly he shook his head at the emotions raging through him.
In the midst of his turmoil he heard his name being called. He looked up and saw Wallace standing in the residence doorway.
“Robert,” said the doctor, “your daughter tells me we have a visitor. He looks tired and no doubt hungry as well. He is welcome to join us for our evening meal.”
Oh, Isaiah, you don’t know what you are doing! thought Robbie to himself. Surely you must know who this is, even if you have never laid eyes on the old captain. I’ve described him clearly enough to you. Surely Hsi-chen’s father could not have forgotten, no matter how many years had passed, that this was the man who had aided in kidnapping his daughter, and in nearly killing Robbie as well. How could he now invite him into their home? How could he even consider allowing him near Ruth? Robbie cast a questioning, resistant look in Wallace’s direction.
“Robert, I have never turned away a seeking soul from this mission in all the years I have been here.” The words were spoken in Wallace’s stern intractable tone that clearly said he would not be moved in his decision.
Robbie stepped reluctantly aside.
“Thank ye, laddie,” said Pike. “I swear to ye, I’m a reformed man—at least I wants to be. I jist needs the helpin’ hand of an old friend, Robbie. I knew ye wouldn’t let me down.”
Following behind his old skipper, Robbie could not see the glint of triumph in Pike’s eye as he followed Wallace inside.