Did you ever hear of missionaries who were jail-birds? Well, that has been my experience. This is how it was.

The day after Christmas about ten years ago it was decided that we make a tour to the mainland of Arabia from the island of Bahrein, our station. The picnic basket was packed with fresh bread and canned meats and good things, and we also took along extra clothing, a box of books and some medicines for the people. Our Arab servant had a hard time of it to secure a boat that would take us over because the people were still suspicious of Christians and were not at all anxious to have them begin work in new places. After a boat had been secured whose captain was willing for a good consideration to allow Christians to travel with him we still waited. When one travels by native boat in Arabia there is always delay; it may be a couple of hours or it may be a few days. Time and tide and the Arab temper are equally unreliable in the Persian Gulf. It is no use fussing and getting impatient. That only makes the Arab more immovable.

At four o’clock a small boat came as close to the shore as the water would allow, and then we rode out on donkeys through the surf to the tossing boat, and in this small “jolly-boat” we were taken to the native ship where we settled on the poop-deck with all our belongings. The deck of this little sailing craft did not measure more than six feet by four, and so we had to sit close or we would fall overboard. The man at the tiller can manage on three or four square inches of room, and his bare toes cling to the edge of the boat just like a monkey on the bough of a tree. The sail was hoisted and away we went for about three hours. Then the wind dropped and we were becalmed almost in sight of shore until the next morning. After prayers at daybreak the sail was again hoisted, and the awkward paddle oars which the Arabs use were taken out to help increase the speed. Finally, after a severe struggle we arrived at our destination.

The pretty little town of Darain stood out clearly in the bright sunlight, and we were glad that at last we were to reach the mainland of Arabia. I was the first Christian woman that had ever landed on this part of the coast. There was a ride through the shallow water of about a quarter of a mile, and our Arab host was kind enough to send out a choice of vehicles for my use,—a chair, a horse and a donkey. I chose the donkey as the safest and mounted and splashed through the surf to the land. The rest of our party followed. We were then conducted to the guest chamber in the tower,—a large airy room with about twenty window frames and no windows, only shutters; so that when the wind blew the dust from the desert, the wooden shutters were fastened, and the light and air had to be shut out also. Our host was very cordial and laid no special restraint upon us, although he too was suspicious that we had come to begin missionary work in earnest in his village,—a thing which he would not allow. He treated us royally and with genuine Arab hospitality, but yet his suspicion was evident because he kept us away from another guest of his, the Turkish governor of Katif, as he did not wish him to know that he had friends among the Christians. After three days of entertainment we went on board our boat again on the way to Katif. We landed there in a few hours but found ourselves in a real “hornet’s nest.” Our very best and most winning smiles could not melt the harshness of the custom-house officials. They said our passports were not properly made out, and the motion was soon made and carried that we should be returned whence we came at once.

Fortunately, there was no boat ready to take us back, and it was not our intention to be turned back without at least attempting to dispose of some of the Gospels which we had brought with us and to win the confidence of some of the people. We were not despondent because even in this inhospitable place there was a man who was anxious to receive us and who invited us to come and stay at his home. We were so happy for a few brief hours. The man’s wife prepared a guest meal and received us very courteously. They gave us a well-furnished room and we were delighted to see that this Moslem was already a Bible reader, for in one of the alcoves of the room was a well-thumbed New Testament.

But no sooner did we begin to unpack our things than a gruff voice from below called for us to come down immediately and bring all our belongings. A lank-looking individual, who said he was a police agent, compelled us to follow him, and so we went through narrow, dirty alleys and smelling streets, and were finally conducted into the courtyard of a large tumble-down house, the steps all crumbling and indescribably filthy. After struggling up the steep, irregular stairway, we were shown into a small room in a part of the house quite by itself, which opened out on to a small roof. It had no windows and only one dingy door.

A smoky lamp without a chimney was brought in which lit up the darkness but also showed the dirt. Many generations of men and insects had lived there, and marked up every space on the walls. When we protested and said we preferred to stay elsewhere, we were told to remain; that we were prisoners, and that we were not permitted to go to any other place. While my husband was led off to the governor by himself I waited. It took him over an hour to try to persuade the great official to allow us liberty, but it was all to no purpose. We must remain in these lodgings which he had provided. There were soldiers on each landing, he told us, and they were warned to protect us and not to let us pass out. So we settled down to the inevitable. The kind Arab from Darain was also in Katif, and later on in the evening he brought the jail-birds some quilts and rags to make them a little more comfortable. We did our best to rest, but it was almost impossible, and we were glad to see the first streak of dawn. Determined not to stay in the house any longer, we prepared a meal from our lunch basket, packed our few belongings and started to find our way to the street. The ragged individuals called soldiers murmured as we passed but did not stop us and we were out in the road and some distance from the governor’s house when our servant whom we had not seen until now came after us and said we must not go; that the governor wanted us and wanted us at once.

I began to protest, but was finally persuaded to return and to my great surprise was conducted into a room gorgeously furnished where a nice-looking meal was being set on a small table. The governor arose and received us very politely, inquiring after our health and comfort. We swallowed our wrath and told him in the best Arabic possible that we were quite well and hoped his lordship was also. He then invited us to breakfast and would not accept a refusal. We wondered what would happen next. After we had explained our errand and stated our desire to sell books to the people and talk to them about religion, he said he would permit us to stay with the custom-house officer, but that we must not distribute or sell a single book and that a soldier must go with us wherever we went. It was his belief that the people might do us harm unless we were well guarded, and that as they had never before seen Christians it was entirely unsafe for us to distribute books or sell them among Mohammedans as fanatical as those in this part of Arabia. Thanking him for his kindness and accepting his apologies for keeping us as jail-birds during the night, we left his rooms and started walking through the streets. A soldier guard followed us, but when we refused to pay them for their service as guards and guides, they turned their backs and went away. And so in this land of misrule and intolerance, this uttermost province of the Turkish Empire, we were once more free.