AFTER the royal funeral, things in Uganda went on much as they had done before the thirty days of enforced idleness always required when the court went into mourning. Mackay, who had been again (after an interval of two years) suffering from attacks of fever, sorely needed rest. Friends in the homeland pressed his return, if only for twelve months; but though it must have cost him a great deal to refuse, there was, he felt, so much to be done, and so few to do it, that he decided, if possible, to hold out for another year or two.
The Roman Catholic priests left the country, taking with them about fifty small boys they had purchased and were teaching to say Latin prayers and make the sign of the cross. Shortly after their departure another missionary, Mr. Ashe, arrived at Uganda. This was a great cheer to Mackay who, during the six years they worked together, found in him not only a devoted fellow-laborer, but a true friend and brother.
Early in the year 1883 a letter was received at the mission station from Urima, a district at the south end of the lake. It was a letter of only three words, "We have arrived," and Mackay was left to guess who the "we" were. About a month later he heard that stores and other things he had been for some time expecting had been sent on by an Arab dhow and were lying at the port. With the help of a young chief he got porters to carry the loads, and before sunrise the next morning set off with a donkey and four men, himself walking most of the way, in the hope of shaking off a threatened attack of fever.
On reaching the port they were sorry to find that all the calicoes, barter cloths and other things had suffered severely from the wet, but it was too late in the day to do much in the way of opening the bales and drying the goods. A young Arab gave the tired missionary part of his supper of rice and gravy, and cleared out half his tent for him to sleep in. The chief, who was quite an old friend, sent as a present a sheep and some sugar-canes. About midnight a fearful storm of thunder and rain came on, and Mackay, who was lying on the ground with the donkey's saddle for his pillow, soon found that the thin calico tent was no protection from the fury of the storm; and as it was on the open beach, no shelter was to be had. His blankets were dripping, and the floor flooded; he got to the top of a bale, and sat there, half asleep, till the morning.
The rain lasted all day. The next night he got a hut, if such it could be called, for it was a cow-shed. The swarms of fleas and mosquitoes made sleep almost impossible. Next day the work of looking over and drying the goods began. Many bottles of medicine were broken, and the oil-cans leaked badly. This was a great loss, as night in the tropics comes on quickly, and it meant often being obliged to sit through the long hours of darkness without a light. After repacking the bales, he engaged more porters, but just as they were about to start, rain came on, and they all ran away.
Many delays followed, but at last he reached a place nine miles from the mission station. The people came in crowds to see and hear "the wisdom of the white man," as he told them of the one true God, and tried to show them that the charms in which they trusted had been of no use to keep away the plague, from which many had died. He advised them to clean their houses and roads.
A week later Mackay wrote, "Many visitors to-day. One man had been a witch-doctor and fortune-teller. His master, a sub-chief, had taken very kindly to learning, and wished to have all his people, women as well as men, taught to read, but by the king's orders was suddenly sent away to a great distance. But he had not forgotten us, for the old man brought as a present from his master a fine fat bullock. The old man said that since hearing his master taught about the one true God, he had thrown his charms into the swamp, and no longer believed in witchcraft.
“Another old man came in who said he had heard of the fame of our wonderful house at the other end of the lake, and had traveled many miles to see it for himself. We had some interesting conversation, and before leaving his faith in charms was somewhat shaken, as he owned they could not keep sickness and death away. He promised to come again to hear more, and said he would bring a friend. We hope they will come, and that the Holy Spirit may so open their eyes that they will not only throw away their idols, but believe in the Lord Jesus Christ as their own trusted Savior.”
Boat-building was the next large piece of work Mackay had to undertake. A boat for the use of the mission had been sent out in numbered sections, but when he reached the place where they had been left, he saw the task that lay before him would not be an easy one. The covering that had been put over the sections to protect them from sun and rain had been stolen. Bolts, iron plates, nails and screws were all missing, and the planks had been so warped by the sun that many of them were quite useless.
He was in a district ruled over by a king who had never seen a white man, and was not at all sure that he would be allowed to stay long enough to build a boat. The king accepted a present of cloth and other things, but refused to see Mackay, saying he was afraid of the white man, though he wished to be friends with him He was afraid to let him stay in his village (ten miles away), and he must only stay for a month, as no rain would fall as long as the white man was near, and the crops would be spoiled. The people came in crowds to see the strange white man, and he was able to tell them that it is only God who can give or withhold the rain.
After a great deal of very hard work, the "Eleanor," as the boat was called, was built, painted and launched. It was not roomy or comfortable; a Scotch herring-boat would, he said, have been far better, but such as it was, he was thankful for it.