The Fifth Brother – Installment 1
Ezekiel had woken in the dark. The excitement of finally getting off the creaking wooden ship made laying in his rack torture. He had creeped out from under his covers when he heard the sailors change out for the first watch of the morning.
On deck, it was still dark, but the fresh air felt good. He went to the cleared area just behind the main mast. Here he did his morning exercises. The crew had been curious about his activities the first couple days underway, but soon it was just part of the ships routine. While sailors tended to their duties, the missionary, Ezekiel Stone, would sometimes work himself into a sweat doing calisthenics near the main mast.
After his exercises, his body covered with a thin film of sweat, he went back down below to wash and prepare his items for departure. Though he had already packed them once, it would serve to keep him occupied till it was time to disembark.
He had two trunks, one of personal items and the other a specially constructed doctor’s kit. It was the size of a small chest and was able to hold his small glass vials of medicine in specially made pouches on the interior. His bone saw had its own sheath. His surgical tools were in a fine rolled carrying case as were his suture kits. Maintenance items for the tools also had their own place in the packet.
Ezekiel was repacking his medical chest when he stopped and listened. He couldn’t place what had changed for a moment, the silence crowded in on him. The silence. For weeks there had been a constant slapping of waves against the hull as the twin masted ship had creaked and groaned, but now there was near silence. Ezekiel hurriedly put away his catgut and needles and ran topside.
On deck, he saw that they were surrounded by green. The ship had made it into a bay, and the water was flat and calm. It quietly gurgled alongside the wooden hull, no longer slapping, but caressing. The wind pushed them on, surrounded on all sides by green hills.
“So, a few more miles and you will be leaving us then, Mr. Stone?” Captain Shaw stood behind Ezekiel, his large build allowing him to look over him as he eyed the coast. “Lord knows they could use someone like you. The town is nothing but thieves and whores. They have come here to be out of sight of man’s law, but they can’t escape God’s. They are turning this paradise into a pit of sin. You have your worked cut out for you Mr. Stone, you certainly do.”
The missionary turned to face the captain. He had to look fairly high up. Not a tall man, Ezekiel had come to terms with looking up to most men he conversed with. He rarely noticed it anymore, except when the person stood particularly close, as the captain now did. Ezekiel took a step back.
“I am sure you are correct, good captain, but I have not come for them. I have come for the island savage. As I see it, these white men most likely have heard the Gospel and have chosen their fate. I hold no ill will towards them, but as long as their decision is an educated one, who am I to drag them into a church? The wild islander has had no such opportunity. I hear they live simple lives and do not know sin. That they have made up superstitions to account for God’s creation. What a grand opportunity! To introduce the joy of Christ to a people who have lived amongst His blessings. To give a name and a face for them to worship in truth instead of some half believed tales they told each other around a campfire.”
The captain stared with wide eyes. It was several seconds before the captain spoke, and when he did, he did it with an earnestness that was almost shocking to Ezekiel.
“You need to watch yourself missionary. These natives are not some fancy Adam and Eve. They grow up loving to kill and eat their enemies. No, no, it is true. They will tell you themselves, they will! They are big and love violence, and they are perverse. You will meet some in the town, and they try and live by our rules, but out there,” He pointed to the far mountains barely visible in the mist of the islands interior. “There they live like they always have, worshiping their dark gods and killing and eating each other. In there is no place for any type of Christian man.”
“Here we must disagree captain. I was of a similar mind growing up. While studying medicine we had this missionary come and speak. He spoke of the need for doctors and business and money. What captured my imagination was his tales of danger and exploration. He went where no other white men had gone. He had been the first. You see, don’t you? The first! What a grand adventure, don’t you think? Many savages were saved from their sin and were helped by his knowledge of agriculture and medicine. That man was a giant among men to me. He risked it all on a grand adventure and came back triumphant. That is what I want Captain. Let another deal with arguing a drunk out of his pints. I need to go further.”
Confusion played across Captain Shaw’s face. The appearance of the short man in religious garb on the docks in Sydney had played neatly into his preconceived ideas. He felt like he had been tricked. Like finding out that some small poodle was actually a champion of the pits. He did not like being fooled. Still, he had to say something.
“God be with you Mr. Stone.”
“And also with you, Captain Shaw.”
The captain turned on his heel and barked orders for trimming the sails to the bosun as he stomped towards his quarter-deck.
An hour later the city of Dunedin began to appear, inching its way around the last bend of the long narrow bay. At first, it seemed to be just a camp, some tents, and small shacks. Then a few ships crept into view, anchored a few hundred yards from the shore. Beyond them, some of the tents had turned to small buildings. Two piers appeared, landing areas for the longboats rowed in from the larger whaling ships. Finally, some larger buildings came into view. They were wooden, well painted and tall. Some as tall as four stories. It was these buildings, maybe two dozen, that classified Dunedin as a city in the minds of all the people on this side of the world.
_______
It was a far cry from the crowded streets of London. It had been in London where Thomas Stone, Ezekiel’s father, had taken the family to hear Mr. Lawrence, the famed missionary, speak. He had returned from Australia, raising money and seeking to inspire more people to join the mission field. Mr. Lawrence spoke of the enormous need for folks who could share the gospel among the convicts that England had discarded on the far side of the world. He stressed the point that his requirements for a missionary were more grueling than those of the clergy serving in London. He said that the missionary must be “courageous, physically strong with an iron will, able to face down the wicked while wading through a city entangled in sin. Having the discipline to not be enticed by vice so that he may help bring these lost souls into the light.”
The challenge was irresistible to Ezekiel. He wanted, no, he needed to be part of something courageous. To test his physical strength. At the same time, he would be exercising his chosen faith. Could a more perfect plan lay ahead for him? Then Mr. Lawrence had gone on to describe the land and animals of Australia. It sounded fantastic, like a story made up to entertain small children. A story no adult should believe, and many didn’t. Not until he brought out the trophies, skins, and mounts of those bizarre creatures which set the crowd to murmuring and gasping. It was true; there was something beyond the known world, more different than language and geography. A world filled with mystical beasts and wild men who had sticks that returned when they were thrown.
Ezekiel had vowed to make himself worthy to travel to such a fantastic place. Mr. Lawrence had spoken of the need for practicing men of medicine. That wherever the word of God was needed, so were the hands of a healer. So, Ezekiel had decided to pursue the arts of medicine. No matter what the world threw at him, he knew he would be able to find work as a surgeon. This had pleased his father, who knew the importance of his son having a solid trade.
Thomas Stone was a landowner. A gentleman. His holdings were not large, however. They would be passed on to his eldest son, Noah. If that did not work out, then the husband of his daughter, Sarah, was next in line. His youngest children, Ezekiel and Mary, would need to make other plans. There would be a stipend, at least for a while, but their fortune would be of their own making.
As a father, he did feel a certain degree of responsibility for his two youngest. Their mother had died when the children were quite young. Ezekiel had been only nine and Mary had been seven. Their mother, Elizabeth, had gotten ill and quickly faded. Her condition placing her in her bed and then taking her a short six months later.
Ezekiel and Mary had spent many hours by their mother’s side. Elizabeth Stone, though fatigued, had continued to pour out affection on her two youngest. The knowledge of her shortened time perhaps giving here extra patience for those who’s memory of her would be shortest.
Thomas was sure Mary would marry well. Though she would be far removed from the estate inheritance, her beauty, charm, and family name would allow her to have her pick of eligible suitors. Ezekiel, on the other hand, was a worry to his father. He was small for his size. While Thomas and Noah both reached six feet in height, Ezekiel was below average in stature. His short frame was not powerfully built, but lean and narrow shouldered. He appeared to be tall and lanky until one got close and realized he was just scraping by at five foot six inches.
Meaning well, his father had found a protege of the famed pugilist James Broughton and hired him to give his son lessons. Ezekiel took to it with a passion. He exercised daily and practiced everything he was taught. His speed and coordination improved and he was soon being used to spar with boys much bigger than him. Ezekiel thrilled at being so successful at a martial sport. It also allowed him to take out his frustrations caused by the numerous slights he received each day. He knew that some of the comments about his height were innocent, but others were not, and his temper would boil until it was finally unleashed on some poor soul in the ring. Ezekiel was happy to have found an acceptable way to vent an anger that seemed to always be just under the surface.
When his father caught some gentlemen betting on a “training match” involving his son, he unceremoniously pulled him out of training and refused to pay for any more lessons. His goal had been to provide Ezekiel with a means to defend himself, not make his son a bare knuckle brawler for money.
Even with the lessons over, Ezekiel still exercised every day. His daily ritual included practicing the punches and feigns he had been taught. Occasionally, he would meet someone who was willing to spar with him. Most often he would just make do with his “routine” as he called it. Rarely, but too often for his father’s liking, he would get into a scrape. Ezekiel knew it was a sin. That he was better at fighting than most and should just turn the other cheek. He just couldn’t resist. He had never walked away from the challenge of a fight. He loved seeing the realization come into a blokes eyes when he discovered he had gone all in on a losing bet. He felt like a king, standing over his defeated opponent. He knew he shouldn’t, but it was such a great feeling for a young man with no future who was always being looked down upon.
The art of the pugilist had born in him a love and respect for discipline. He applied it to his faith, always being on time for service and lessons. When inspired to become a missionary, he applied his stern will to becoming a surgeon and seeking acceptance into the Christian Missionary Society. Bringing his own weakness under the control of his will was a constant challenge, but one he found himself winning more often than his peers. At least in what he considered the more common vices.
He had hounded the Missionary Service once he felt he knew as much as his master surgeon could teach him. The surgeon had wanted to keep him on for another two years. Ezekiel thought that the man just wanted to continue receiving funding from the Stone estate, but Ezekiel was confident that he had learned all he could from him and was soon on a schooner carrying mail and goods to Australia. One hundred and thirty-two days later he landed in Sydney.
Ezekiel’s time in Australia was overshadowed by frustration. He was put under the authority of a senior missionary named Cobb who saw the breadth and scope of his calling being towards the white men only. While he admitted that there was a need for the Gospel everywhere, he had decided to focus his ministry on the displaced Britons. Cobb did have a plan, though Ezekiel considered it somewhat flawed. It was to bring the Europeans to Christ so as to build a strong western style city with all of its European culture and business practices. The idea being that what was in Britain right now was the height of a Christian nation and if recreated in Australia it would draw all the unbelieving to it. Serve “as a beacon to brown and white man alike. Showing what a people sanctified to God can accomplish.”
Ezekiel did not remember London as a Christ infused utopia and doubted they could create one in Sydney. He had felt frustrated to be so close to the wild-land stretching beyond the city. Forbidden to travel outside into the wilderness, he would corner the settlers who had decided to try and make their living in the “outback” as they called it. Rather than satisfy his appetite, it just flamed his desire for something less civilized.
After six months of laboring in the city, a missionary arrived from New Zealand seeking fellow laborers willing to travel just a small bit further. He warned that cannibalism still existed in New Zealand and violence still flared up. He also told of how noble the indigenous people were. He told of how it was apparent in the carriage and conduct of the natives that they were indeed made in the image of God. He asked only for people to come help show these people their true identity as children of the Heavenly Father.
Ezekiel was hooked. The opportunity to interact with such a wild people filled him with excitement. He was tired of dealing with the same sort of petty thieves and crooks he could find in London. He volunteered on the spot.
Cobb noted his zeal, but Ezekiel would have to wait until the next ship from England arrived. It was expected in two weeks. It ended up taking three. Ezekiel was sure he would perish from the wait.
Finally, the promised ship had docked in Sydney. Two new members sent from the Christian Missionary Society stepped off the ship wide-eyed and clutching their meager possessions. Ezekiel had not been able to hide his excitement when he had run forward on the dock and greeted them. His eagerness to get them to their new residence did not calm the pair in the least. Ezekiel ushered them back to the mission as fast as he could. The pair never spoke, but just stared at the surroundings and each other, knuckles white as they held tight to their possessions. At the mission, Ezekiel unceremoniously dumped them in their assigned room. He ran off to his own cell and packed his things and went straight to the harbor to catch whatever ride he could to get to the Southern Island of New Zealand.