The Black-Bearded Barbarian | Page 7

was in a joyous commotion. His friend pointed toward
the horizon, and away off there against the sky stood the top of a

snow-capped peak--Fujiyama!--the majestic, sacred mountain of Japan!
It was a welcome sight, after the long ocean voyage, and the hours they
lay in Yokahama harbor were full of enjoyment. Every sight was
thrilling and strange to young Mackay's Western eyes. The harbor
fairly swarmed with noisy, shouting, chattering Japanese boatmen. He
wondered why they seemed so familiar, until it suddenly dawned on
him that their queer rice-straw coats made them look like a swarm of
Robinson Crusoes who had just been rescued from their islands.
When he landed he found things still funnier. The streets were noisier
than the harbor. Through them rolled large heavy wooden carts, pulled
and pushed by men, with much grunting and groaning. Past him
whirled what looked like overgrown baby carriages, also pulled by men,
and each containing a big grown-up human baby. It was all so pretty
too, and so enchanting that the young missionary would fain have
remained there. But China was still farther on, so when the America
again set sail, he was on board.
Away they sailed farther and farther east, or was it west? He often
asked himself that question in some amusement as they approached the
coast of China. They entered a long winding channel and steamed this
way and that until one day they sailed into a fine broad harbor with a
magnificent city rising far up the steep sides of a hill. It was an Oriental
city, and therefore strange to the young traveller. But for all that there
seemed something familiar in the fine European buildings that lined the
streets, and something still more homelike in that which floated high
above them--something that brought a thrill to the heart of the young
Canadian--the red-crossed banner of Britain!
It was Hongkong, the great British port of the East, and here he decided
to land. No sooner had the travelers touched the dock, than they were
surrounded by a yelling, jostling crowd of Chinese coolies, all shouting
in an outlandish gibberish for the privilege of carrying the Barbarians'
baggage. A group gathered round Mackay, and in their eagerness began
hammering each other with bamboo poles. He was well-nigh
bewildered, when above the din sounded the welcome music of an
English voice.

"Are you Mackay from Canada?"
He whirled round joyfully. It was Dr. E. J. Eitel, a missionary from
England. He had been told that the young Canadian would arrive on the
America and was there to welcome him.
Although the Canadian Presbyterian Church had as yet sent out no
missionaries to a foreign land, the Presbyterian Church of England had
many scattered over China. They were all hoping that the new recruit
would join them, and invited him to visit different mission stations, and
see where he would like to settle.
So he remained that night in Hongkong, as Dr. Eitel's guest, and the
next morning he took a steamer for Canton. Here he was met on the
pier by an old fellow student of Princeton University, and the two old
college friends had a grand reunion. He returned to Hongkong shortly,
and next visited Swatow. As they sailed into the harbor, he noticed two
Englishmen rowing out toward them in a sampan.* No sooner had the
ship's ladder been lowered, than the two sprang out of their boat and
clambered quickly on deck. To Mackay's amazement, one of them
called out, "Is Mackay of Canada on board?"
* A Chinese boat from twelve to fifteen feet long, covered with a
house.
"Mackay of Canada," sprang forward delighted, and found his two new
friends to be Mr. Hobson of the Chinese imperial customs, and Dr.
Thompson of the English Presbyterian mission in Swatow.
The missionaries here gave the stranger a warm welcome. At every
place he had visited there had awaited him a cordial invitation to stay
and work. And now at Swatow he was urged to settle down and help
them. There was plenty to be done, and they would be delighted to
have his help.
But for some reason, Mackay scarcely knew why himself, he wanted to
see another place.

Away off the southeastern coast of China lies a large island called
Formosa. It is separated from the mainland by a body of water called
the Formosa Channel. This is in some places eighty miles wide, in
others almost two hundred. Mackay had often heard of Formosa even
before coming to China, and knew it was famed for its beauty.
Even its name shows this. Long, long years before, some navigators
from Portugal sailed to this beautiful island. They had stood on the
deck of their ship as they approached it, and were amazed at