162 Historical Sketches of the Foreign Missions of the Seventh-day Adventists
Like the smile of God it seemed, above all earthly homes, above the
[221]
rock-bound plains, the rugged mountains, the lonely forests, through
which our journey lay.
Angels of mercy seemed whispering, “Look up. This glory is but
a gleam of the light which flows from the throne of God. Live not
for earth alone. Look up, and behold by faith the mansions of the
heavenly home.” This scene was to me as the bow of promise to Noah,
enabling me to grasp the assurance of God’s unfailing care, and to
look forward to the haven of rest awaiting the faithful worker. Ever
since that time I have felt that God granted us this token of his love
for our encouragement. Never while memory lingers can I forget that
vision of beauty, and the comfort and peace it brought.
At Gottenburg we embarked in a small boat which was to convey us
across the channel to the coast of Denmark. Here I was provided with
a state-room containing two sofas, and shut in by heavy curtains,—
accommodations which we then thought hardly necessary for a day
journey of only six hours. We had occasion, however, to change this
opinion before reaching land. The first hour we spent on deck, in the
cheerful and well-furnished ladies’ cabin. The weather was pleasant,
the sea smooth, and we anticipated an enjoyable trip. But soon the
captain, passing through the cabin, advised us to go below and lie down
at once, for we were coming into rough water. We complied, though
rather unwillingly. In a short time the boat began to rock violently;
we could hardly keep our position upon the sofas. I became very ill,
now in a profuse perspiration, as if every organ was struggling against
the terrible malady, and then overcome by deathly seasickness. This
was what I had dreaded in crossing the Atlantic, fearing the effect of
violent wrenching upon my heart. At that time I happily escaped, but I
now suffered all that I then anticipated.
The waters seemed lashed into fury by the merciless winds. The
boat was wrenching and creaking as if going to pieces. Whenever
we attempted to rise, we were thrown back with great force. Even
our faithful stewardess, unable to keep her footing, was thrown across
the room from side to side as the vessel rolled and pitched. As I
lay helpless and exhausted, with closed eyes and ashen face, Sister
McEnterfer feared that I was dead. She was herself unable to leave
her sofa, but from time to time she called my name to assure herself
that I was still living. Death seemed very near, but I felt that I could