Chapter 18: The Rainstorm

IT was very unpleasant indeed!
Riding on horseback over the rough highways of Central Brazil is not an easy or comfortable method of travel, and with a little child to carry in your arms it becomes an unpleasantly trying and even hazardous experience, especially in the rainy season.
On this occasion I had with me my wife and two little ones. We had nearly finished our long ride of a month, being now within a few days of the railway.
We had wonderfully experienced the protection of our Father, in spite of the season, though there had been several disagreeable incidents on the way. Once a rickety trestle bridge had given way beneath my horse and I had to pitch my little girl quickly, as far away as possible, to escape the horse’s hoofs and rolling logs. Another time I had underestimated the depth of a river we had to ford, and while crossing the water came up over the saddle and we drifted down stream. I managed to get near to one of the high banks, and with an effort pushed the little one up its steep sides, where she clung until I could get out and rescue her.
These and many similarly uncomfortable experiences proved very tiring to mind and body, and we were thankful when Saturdays arrived and we could look forward to a day’s rest and refreshment after the hard travel of the past week.
On reaching our camp for that night and the next day, it proved to be a dreary, uninteresting spot, with very poor pasturage for our animals and no accommodation for ourselves except a big open rancho consisting of four posts let into the ground supporting a red-tiled roof. This was so much the home of the pigs and cattle that they rather resented our intrusion.
There was a farmhouse close by, but for evident reasons we were not offered the usual hospitality we had hoped for; and to add to our discomfort it was pouring with rain.
To push on for another hour or two to the next farm was out of the question — we were far too tired; so we rigged up our small tent under the rancho, and tried to make the best of things.
After I had succeeded in igniting a reluctant fire with the few damp sticks collected, I walked over to the farmhouse, which was literally packed with people — mostly men — who were drinking, smoking, and behaving generally in the boisterous manner usual at harvest time.
Labor is very scarce in Central Brazil, so all the farmers are accustomed to take it in turns to help the others for many miles round at certain periods of the year, and so accomplish in a few days what one unaided would take months to perform. The farmer who receives the benefit has to accommodate and feed his friends, and keep them freely supplied with rum and tobacco during their stay; and as they often bring their wives and families too it will be easily understood that there was no spare room for any chance wayfarers like ourselves — not even in the corn bin!
As I entered the medley crowd stared at me, and or a moment the hubbub ceased. “I perceive you are fond of music here,” said I; “shall I sing you something?”
“Sim, Senhor, pois nao” (Yes, sir, why not)! several voices replied; so that I sat on a corner of the bare, rough table and sang a few hymns in Portuguese to a very quiet and appreciative audience. There is nothing that attracts Brazilians so much as music and singing.
Before the impression produced by the hymns had died away I drew forth my pocket Testament and read them a short chapter. I then asked the host if I could have a meeting there next day; and he giving a willing consent I bade them all goodnight and left them.
Oh, what an awful night that was! The strong wind and the rain soon penetrated our cramped and flimsy shelter; and about midnight our little girl had a bad attack of croup from the cold and exposure. We seriously wished we had pushed on a little farther.
Next morning, on looking up my friends of the previous night, I found that most of them had been expecting to return to their own homes early that morning, but such was the interest and curiosity excited by the proposed meeting that nearly all of them had delayed their departure till the evening in order to be able to attend.
I held the service earlier than at first announced, as some had to travel great distances that day — several of them having come twenty to thirty miles.
The service was deeply impressive. We had a kind of after-meeting, and it seemed that the hearts, of several of these rough men were touched. I went back to our poor quarters with a much more contented mind.
How it did pour again that night! When at last the day broke it seemed as if we should be unable to proceed, and we rose an hour later than usual. It was then broad daylight, and the rain was diminishing. To my surprise I found outside a young man who had been sitting in the rain for about an hour, waiting for me to appear. He was drenched to the skin, bespattered with mud, and shivering with cold. I recognized him at once as one of the congregation of the previous afternoon.
He told me that in consequence of what he had heard he had spent a bad and restless night; and that though he lived many miles away he had risen before daybreak and walked in through that storm to catch me before I left, in order to speak about his condition of mind.
We walked away together out of sight of the house and rancho, end with the open Bible I endeavored to make clear to him the way of salvation, he accepting it all like a little child. Then together we knelt on a log, beneath a spreading tree, and he in simple faith received Salvation through the Lord Jesus Christ.
With a quiet, satisfied look on his face he bade us good-bye.
Then the sun came out!
We packed our belongings, loaded up and saddled, and continued our journey, now more than grateful that our Father had marked out this spot for our camp. We understood better the bad quarters, the rainstorm, and the croup, when the outcome proved be one soul at least snatched from the hand of the enemy.
We have never passed that way since; but God’s Word remains behind us as a safe Guide and a sure Witness.