Chapter II: ~the Decision.~

I called on Dr. Richards, President of the Seminary, put the papers into his hands, and requested him to confer with Drs. Perrine and Mills, the other members of the Faculty, and give me advice.

The Professors met by call, and soon the venerable Dr. Richards, with brimming eyes, reported that, as the voice of God seemed to call me to this service, they could not object to my going; that, while they did not feel at liberty to give me positive advice, they approved of the proposed Patagonian mission, and that, should I decide to go, their prayers should go with me, and that I should have an honorable release from the further duties of the Seminary.

Thus another door was opened and another voice seemed to say, “_Go_.”

News of this call spread quickly through the Seminary, and many of the students rushed to my room to inquire. Some with tears entreated me not to go, with language like this: “The Patagonians are ferocious cannibals; they will kill and eat you. You have no right to throw away your life, as you are now just prepared to labor in the vineyard.”

Others said, “_Go, brother_; the Lord will go with you, and nothing shall harm you; for Jesus has said, ‘Lo, I am with you alway.’” As I was then busy in preparing to leave Auburn, the brethren were requested to come to my room at 5 +P.M.+, when I would be ready and happy to see all who would do me the favor to call. During that hour the room was crowded, conversation was free, prayer was offered, and tearful farewells and benedictions uttered.

At nine o’clock of the evening of the day on which the Boston letters came to hand the stage for Rochester was before the Seminary door, and I took my seat for the night. Early the next morning I was in Rochester, where I had left my espoused but a few days before.

She was at breakfast when I entered her house. After salutations I took breakfast with the family; then came morning prayers, during all which time nothing had been said as to why I had returned so soon to Rochester. All was mystery to Miss Church and her friends.

After prayers we retired to a separate room, and I, without a word of explanation, put Dr. Anderson’s letter into her hands. As she read, her emotion deepened, her tears flowed. What a change of situation! What an uprooting of fondly and long cherished hopes! For seven years we had waited, and now only three or four months remained before our nuptials were to be celebrated, and we were to go forth into some foreign field, to toil, to suffer, and to rejoice together in the vineyard of our Master. For a minute she was dumb. The struggle was intense. Soon, however, faith gained the victory. That full consecration which, long before, she had made to her Master and Lord assumed its power; her soul rose from the stern conflict of emotion--of hope deferred, perhaps slain. She took my hand and said, “_My dear, you must go_.”

This settled the question. There was no looking back. Another door was opened, and again the voice seemed to say, “_Go forward_.”

Henceforth it was preparation in earnest. I spent a few days in visiting friends in Western New York with Miss Church; then came a tender farewell, she returning to Rochester, while I hastened on to Boston. There I met Mr. Arms, my companion in the enterprise; and on Sunday evening, July 28th, 1833, we were ordained in Park Street Church. On the 29th we received our instructions for the Patagonian expedition from the Prudential Committee of the A. B. C. F. M., in the house of the venerable chairman, the Hon. S. Hubbard.

All things being now ready, we took passage for New York to embark for Patagonia.

In order to assist us in any further necessary preparations, Mr. Henry Hill, Treasurer of the Missionary Board, accompanied us to New York. He also furnished us with ample letters of credit on banking houses in Valparaiso and London, and the Secretary of the Board gave us letters of introduction to the commodore commanding the U. S. squadron on the Pacific station.

This was precautionary, in case we should find it necessary to reach Valparaiso in order to obtain passage to the United States, and perhaps _via_ England or France.

On our arrival in New York we were met by the Rev. David Green, one of the secretaries of the American Board, who had just returned from a visit to the Cherokee Mission; also by the Hon. Pelatiah Perit, a corporate member of the Board; by Mr. Silas E. Burrows, owner of the Mary Jane and patron of the Patagonian mission; by Captain William Clift, of Mystic, Connecticut, the Master of the Mary Jane; and by many others of the friends and patrons of Christian missions.

And now came a shock of disappointment. Captain Clift assured us that the officers of the Board had been misled by the recently published book of Captain Morrell. He denied the statements as to the fine climate, the beautiful lands, the luxuriant meadows of clover, the considerable number of the inhabitants, their quiet habits and their amiable disposition.

In confirmation of his denial he stated that he had sailed up and down the whole western coast of Patagonia several times; had seen the bays, channels, islands, the mainland, and the natives; that he had sealed from the western entrance of Magellan’s Strait to the island of Chiloe, and that the description of that coast by Captain Morrell was far from being correct. Captain Clift described the coast as broken, mountainous, wild, and the climate as often stormy. The ravines, headlands, cliffs, spurs, and precipitous sea-walls, he said, rendered travelling by land along the shore impossible, and by sea in a boat very difficult and dangerous.

“As for the inhabitants,” said Captain Clift, “they amount to only a few scores, and these are the most wretched and squalid creatures I have ever seen in human form: small in size, nearly naked, having only the protection of a piece of seal-skin hung over the windward shoulder, and turning this from side to side as their canoes tacked or the wind changed. They live most of the time in canoes, paddling from rock to rock, and subsisting on shell-fish, seals, and dead whales which sometimes drift on shore.” He added that there were no villages, or settlements of Indian tribes, along that whole coast; that the natives had no idea of agriculture, and that the land was unfit for tillage; in short, that it was the most dreary and inhospitable coast imaginable.

These statements were corroborated by the testimony of a number of masters, officers, and sailors who had been up and down that coast on sealing expeditions; and the testimony of Captain King, of the British navy, who once surveyed that coast, was substantially the same.

Furthermore, Captain Clift said that on the present voyage he should not visit that coast at all; that he would enter the Strait of Magellan, and seal among the lagoons, inlets, channels, rocks, and numerous islets of Tierra del Fuego; that to take the missionaries to the west coast of Patagonia would change the whole plan of his voyage, and probably make it an entire failure; and that to land us where we were instructed to go, to look after us along that coast, and to pledge himself to take us off and return us to the United States when our explorations were ended, was out of the question. He also said that to land and leave us there, without care or means of escape, would be but to abandon us to a cruel death.

All this put a new and dark aspect on the Patagonian mission. What could be done? Must we go back to Boston? Must we acknowledge failure, return our instructions, and seek another field of labor?

This seemed like “putting the hand to the plough and looking back.” We looked at one another, but all was blank. We looked to the Lord for guidance, and in half an hour the problem was solved.

Captain Clift said, “Gentlemen, if you wish to go to _Eastern Patagonia_, I will take you into the Strait of Magellan and land you on the north shore, among the Horse Indians, and then pursue my voyage, which may be one or two years. My object is to fill my vessel with seal-skins, whether the time be longer or shorter. Should you be on the shore, where I can reach you, when I return, I will take you home, but more than this I cannot promise.”

Our instructions from the Prudential Committee had cautioned us to avoid, if possible, getting among the Eastern Patagonians, as they were reputed to be fierce savages of gigantic size, and cannibals withal.

Captain Clift said, “They are hard fellows; but vessels passing through the Strait sometimes trade with them unharmed.”

The question was now reduced to this: to go among the Eastern Patagonians, under the conditions above stated, or to abandon the mission for the present at least, if not altogether.

A council of the members and friends of the American Board then present in New York was held. After prayer and due consultation, the following question was put to the young missionaries: “Are you willing, in view of all the circumstances and conditions of the case, to go to Eastern Patagonia?” The reply was, promptly, “Yes.”

The meeting then voted unanimously to approve of our desire to embark on this untried enterprise.

After renewed prayers, in which the missionaries and the cause were tenderly commended to the grace of God, the meeting was dissolved, and the missionaries at once set about finishing their preparations for sailing from New York.