As soon as the trouble broke out, Wallace went to Lungsi.
At the root of the disturbance, it seemed, was one of the mission’s communicants who had, against Wallace’s advice, taken an unbelieving neighbor to the authorities over the destruction of some property. Tempers had flared, and the Christian had been accused of being bewitched by the foreigners. This sentiment incited other anti-foreign, anti-Christian accusations, with several of the Christian members of the village attempting to defend their stand. Verbal sparring soon gave way to blows.
Wallace arrived in the midst of the mayhem. The elder of the village and his council had thus far had no success in dispersing the twenty or thirty members of the angry mob. Wallace’s presence on the scene managed to quiet the crowd, especially in that he was able to encourage his own people to back off, despite taunts directed at him by several on the other side. The crowd shuffled off in various directions, but in no way did a sense of peace return to the community. Wallace helped restore order to the homes of his church members that had been vandalized during the row, then returned to the mission.
During the doctor’s absence, Robbie had had his own share of problems in Wukiang. As darkness had enveloped the village, an unseen arsonist had set fire to Chang’s home. Though no one was hurt, it took some time to quell the blaze, and then not until the small place had been destroyed. Robbie reached the mission with the homeless Chang family just as Wallace returned. Shan-fei and Miss Trumbull prepared beds for the family in the school, but they were still in the midst of this when old Li ran into the compound.
“Tai-fu, ching-kao!” he cried, pounding on the residence door.
Wallace swung the door open. The look on his face was tense, expectant of more trouble.
“Li hsien-sheng, what is it?”
“Tai-fu, you must believe me when I say I do not know how this began,” said Li frantically. “I am not one of you, but I hate you no longer.”
“I know that, Li. But what is the matter?”
“They are gathering outside the village,” answered Li, his face panic-stricken. “Some are from Wukiang, some from Lungsi, and the other villages. Some I have never seen before. Evil men. They are very angry and are trying to stir the people into a riot. There is talk of burning the mission. They say you are a devil, that you charmed the people in Lungsi today into dispersing. Even one or two of your own members are among them, declaring that they were indeed bewitched by you. They all cry that the mission must be destroyed before all Chinese are defiled. They speak nothing but lies, but will not listen to reason.”
“How many are there, Li?” asked Robbie, who had come up behind Wallace.
“Seventy-five, possibly a hundred when I left,” replied Li. “But their numbers are growing. I will stay and help you.”
“No, Li,” said Wallace. “Thank you. But it is best you do not become involved in this way. Go to your home. God will protect us.”
Wallace paused, then added, “There is perhaps one thing you can do.”
“Whatever I am able.”
“Could you shelter the Changs until this is all over, and my granddaughter also? The fewer at the mission right now, I believe, the better.”
“I would be most happy to assist,” answered Li. “But they must come quickly, for the crowd may come at any time.”
Ying Nien, now a fully trained pastor himself, went with Li’s party to help with arrangements there, while Wallace gathered the remaining mission family, including Robbie, Miss Trumbull, and Shan-fei, together in the sanctuary of the chapel.
“What are we going to do?” asked Robbie.
“We came to China that God might be glorified,” answered Wallace. “Our buildings, even our lives, are infinitesimal in the heavenly scheme of things. We have all known the moment may come when we would be called to the ultimate sacrifice. Our only purpose is to bring glory to God, and to trust our lives into His care.”
He paused, then reached out his two hands, taking his wife’s hand in one of his, and laying the other on Robbie’s left shoulder. They in turn reached out to take Miss Trumbull’s hands, and following Wallace’s lead, the small band sank to their knees on the chapel floor.
Wallace quietly cleared his throat, then began to sing in his deep baritone voice, a song they all knew as well as any scripture or liturgy. But suddenly the words, grown somewhat dull over the years with repetition, struck them with new and meaningful impact. “Praise God from whom all blessings flow . . .”
The others joined him with fervent voices, and though there were only four of them gathered together as one, the melodious tones carried out into the heavy night air.
———
On a fallow rice field a mile from the village, a few horses impatiently stamped in the soft dirt.
Wang peered through the darkness, then nodded his head with approval as he spied the torches bobbing up and down in the distance. By their elevation he gathered they had now reached the bridge, and by their numbers he guessed that his men had been successful in rousing a good number of the villagers. There must be a hundred or more crossing the river, he thought with wicked satisfaction. He could almost hear the creaking of the ancient timbers.
He turned to his companion. “You are certain they will not abandon the mission?”
“I tells you, guv’nor,” replied a self-satisfied voice, “that mission is everything to the blokes. I done my job good. I knows what I’m talkin’ about. They won’t leave for nothin’.”
“For nothing . . . ?”
“‘Cept to help a friend, and I found out Taggart’s got just such a friend, a Chinaman, no less—”
“Watch what you say, you scum of a sailor!” warned Wang.
“‘Course there are Chinamen—that is, Chinese—and there are Chinese. And they ain’t all as noble as yersel’, Wang.” The uneasy rider bowed with a mocking smirk on his face. “This one’ll do fine fer what we wants.”
“Taggart must be separated from the mission,” said Wang. “Not only will that weaken the mission against our mob, but it will also make Taggart all the more vulnerable.”
“He were alone ten years ago in the monastery,” observed the other.
“I was too overconfident then. This time I will be prepared!”
“Let’s jist hope so.”
“You better hope you have done your job!”
Pike merely snorted his disdain for Wang’s doubt. He knew he had done his part perfectly. During his short stay at the mission he had become fully apprised with the layout of the place, and had learned the names of those who might prove useful to them such as this Chinaman, Kuo-hwa. But the most important thing he had discovered was that Robbie had changed. Religion had made the lad gentle as a dove. Why, he had even overheard the Reverend and Robbie talking about loving their enemies, and not using fists to fight their battles.
The fools! Prayers and platitudes were Robbie’s stock in trade now, and Pike was more confident than ever that when Wang went after him, he’d not so much as raise a finger, much less a fist, to defend himself. That might take some of the sport out of his death, it was true. But by now it was no longer a matter of enjoyment for either Pike or Wang—it was sheer, undefiled revenge.
Wang glanced about again, only this time in the opposite direction from the torches.
“Where the devil is Pien?” he asked angrily. “I told him exactly where to be tonight!”
“Probably off gettin’ hissel’ drunk. I don’t know why ye keeps that dullard around.”
“I’ll kill him if he fails me tonight!”
“Ye should ’ave killed him long ago,” muttered Pike. “I never did trust the blag’ard!”