Dear Mr. Callaway,—
You may have heard some rumour of what has happened to us here. You will find much of it described in the letter I have written to Mr. John Baines’s mother. You can read this letter. Read it and then take notes. You have several clerks and none of them with a broken head like mine, I’ll be bound, and plenty of good pens, ink and stationery. All I’ve got to write on is some old ruled exercise books and no envelopes. Well, make up some sort of a letter out of what I’ve written to Mrs. Baines senior, and then send it to the headquarters of the Mission in London; and post the letter to her, Mrs. Baines, Tilehurst, Reading. Tell them I’m recovering and I’m going to stay here till I am relieved and even perhaps afterwards, supposing I and my husband get quite well. You may be surprised at my change of surname, having known me as Miss Jamblin. Just before the attack on our station (Hangodi) occurred I went through a religious form of marriage with Mr. Ebenezer Anderson. Mrs. John Baines had gone away—her husband sent her off to the coast in the charge of Consul Brentham—and I did not think it right to stay at the Mission with three men and me unmarried; so I accepted Mr. Anderson’s proposal. Mr. Baines married us, but as I supposed it wouldn’t be legal without we were married again before the Consul at Unguja, we haven’t lived together as man and wife, and won’t till everything can be made right and proper. I only mention this in case either of us died.
You can also tell the big man at Unguja—Sir Godfrey Something—what has happened in case he cares to know. I don’t suppose he does care. Those big pots always sneer at Nonconformist Missionaries. But I want him to know this. We should have all been killed and perhaps tortured and our station might have been utterly destroyed and our people carried off into slavery if it hadn’t been first for the Masai, and most of all for an old Arab, Ali bin Ferhan—I think he spells his name. He’s written it in Arabic on the piece of paper I enclose. He lives at Momoro, near the Lingani River. Well, for reasons too long to give he no sooner heard we were going to be attacked by the Ruga-ruga and the black Arabs (they were led by that limb of the Devil, Ayub bin Majidi, whom they nickname Mnazi-moja) than he came to our assistance. Mbogo and his people deserve a gold medal—not that any one will give it—they’re only “Wa-shenzi” and we’re only Nonconformists; they fought splendidly; but they were just giving way when this old Arab—just like a picture of Abraham he is—came up with a lot of his people armed with guns and carrying flags. And he called off the fighting. After that the Ruga-ruga and their leaders simply disappeared with all the plunder they could carry and we have been at peace ever since, with Ali bin Ferhani camped here and keeping guard over Ulunga. Ali doesn’t like the Germans. He always wanted his beloved “Ekkels”—I suppose he means Sir James Eccles—to take the country for the English Queen. But he thinks bad will come if any white people are killed. He is so afraid the Germans will think he joined with the other Arabs that I now tell you all this, though every day I have a splitting headache. I really began this letter a week ago. I write a little every day, and now I think Ali will be able to get it sent through to the coast, to Mvita, perhaps.
The other letter—an exercise book tied up—is for Mrs. John Baines. I don’t think any one ought to see it but herself. So please put it into an envelope and address it to her “To await arrival at Unguja.” She started off for the Mvita coast with Captain Brentham a month ago. What’s happened to her I don’t know. I sent messengers to tell her her husband was dead.
I saw Mrs. Stott here last July when Mrs. John Baines had her premature confinement. Since then I only know that their station at Burungi was destroyed, but they got away safely somewhere else, where the Consul and Mrs. Baines afterwards found them.
P.S. I ought perhaps to be more business-like, in spite of feeling so ill, in case there is any trouble about wills and say that their names were Thomas Aldrich Bayley and John Baines and that they died as near as I can reckon on October 29th, 1888. I haven’t found any wills, but I am trying to get their effects together, though of course there is great confusion after the looting. I’ve also written a note for old Mrs. Bayley.
From Mrs. Anderson, E.A.M., to Mrs. John Baines, c/o Mr. Callaway, Agent, East African Mission, Unguja.