The Missionaries

The Missionary

It had been a long day for reverend Eastwood. Moving into the vicarage had taken two very busy days and he sat in his new study relaxing with a well-earned coffee his wife Amelia had brought him. His eyes ranged over the well-stocked library shelves the previous reverend had left behind in the vicarage. Looking along one shelf he noticed a few books at the end weren't sitting flush with the others.

Being slightly compulsive, it irked him somewhat. "That needs fixing" he thought to himself. "It can wait until tomorrow." As he sat enjoying his relaxing coffee, it continued to irritate him. "Maybe it can't wait" he said out loud as he walked towards the problem intending to fix it.

The books would not push in flush with the others. Something was preventing it. Taking a couple of dust covered books away, it was obvious what the problem was. There was a book behind them. Retrieving it, he was startled to find it was a diary.

Curious about what was in it, he returned to his comfortable chair and coffee. Opening the front cover, he began to read;

December 1937 This is the diary of James Lock, Chapham village Somerset.

If anyone should discover this diary or should I say memoir it is because I failed to destroy it before I died. It is not my day-to-day diary but a secret one which I would not like to fall into the hands of others. The reasons will become obvious as the tale unfolds. I only write it because the contents are so outlandish, I could be forgiven if they were the results of possible delirium, and so that I may wish to revisit the events at a later day to affirm my sanity.

The following descriptions of events and recollections of conversations are as close to verbatim as I remember, together with conversations with my wife Florence, of recollections of both spoken word and her thoughts at the time, and also of consideration of the fact that some details were recorded in retrospect at a later date. I recorded some of these events in a journal shortly after they occurred, some copied from my wife's own journals, and some which I made from recollected events at later dates, which were finally compiled to form this full record.

In early 1901 I was contacted by my bishop to see if I would replace the missionary in Northeast Nigeria in Africa who was in failing health. The details of which are irrelevant to the account, suffice to say that I, after consulting my wife of five years agreed. She if anything, was more enthusiastic than I about bringing the word of the Lord to ignorant heathens.

The following narrative is accurate in all details to the best of my recollections, together with my wife's;

February 1901

The expedition had been well planned by the Baptist church back in Britain, planning our journey from England by steamship and then by riverboat and finally by caravan.

The steamship passage was uneventful but still a novel adventure, I having never having travelled by sea before. Enjoying good weather, we arrived 3 weeks later, leaving the cold winter weather behind us, to a hot and humid West coast of Africa. We approached the Niger Delta with the offshore winds casting new scents and smells towards us making us shiver with the excitement of anticipation. We were very eager to disembark.

We were greeted by our guide John Beecham, a deeply tanned, rugged and capable looking man in his fifties who had been engaged by the incumbent missionary and his wife. He was a long-practised hunter and explorer who had lived in Africa for over thirty years. We had been assured we were in the good hands of someone who knew the country extremely well. He had organised for us to join a riverboat taking a group of big game hunters who were also travelling up river to a point of the river where we were to disembark together, and then travelling together for around a further 50 miles where we were to separate and go our different ways, they onward to who knows where, us a further 100 miles Easterly. The point where we were to disembark from the riverboat was the meeting point for the bulk of the baggage bearers, who had gone on ahead of us.

At the port of our arrival, we stayed in local accommodation while the final stores and provisions were sourced and gathered together for the coming journey. After less than a week we were almost ready, the riverboat, which was surprisingly large, was ready for us to embark the following morning.

A beautiful early morning greeted us, ready to catch the tide to take us up river. With high spirits we boarded and made ourselves comfortable in our cabin prior to casting off from the wharf.

The shallow draft riverboat would take us upriver to a point where rapids would prevent further progress, and from which we then would travel by oxen cart inland 150 miles North Eastward, to an area a further surrounded by remote villages.

The journey upriver took two full weeks, mooring each night to avoid any dangerous rocks. The trek by oxen cart, another ten to twelve days. My wife Florence and I were both eager to start our work, but we were so enthralled by the novel scenery of the land, the exotic smells and its animals to notice the passage of time. Florence in particular, was thrilled by the sight, sounds and smells of everything. I took great pleasure marvelling at her excitement and enthusiasm of the adventure we were travelling on. I was a lucky man to have married her. She was indeed pretty and had been courted by many suitors hoping to marry her. I felt exceptionally fortunate that she had feelings for me as I had little to offer, being a simple clergyman with a small income albeit with an annuity from my businessman father.

Our guide I think, was smitten by her good looks, and she only had to ask for anything and he was pleased to oblige, ardent as a lovestruck adolescent, and only to be rewarded by her smile. I had noticed this behaviour from lots of men before. If she hadn't decided to become a vicar's wife, she could easily have married into great fortune on her looks alone.

The caravan consisted of half a dozen teams of oxen and carts. We had only brought a few personal things with us, intending to send for other items in the future, the bulk of the items we carried were needed at the mission and were requested by the incumbent missionary, Josiah Brentwood.

After having travelled along the Niger then branching along the Benue river to a point we must disembark, our trekking party then continued for the North Eastward leg across the heartland. Having already travelled more than 60 miles in the hot and humid conditions since leaving the boat, we were eager to complete our journey. The group of 4 big game hunters had made welcome travelling companions. We saw journeying with accomplished armed men as a fortunate safeguard, but unfortunately, they had left us departing a couple of days earlier to join another hunting party traveling north. That left the Four of us including our servant Carstairs and a dozen native bearers to complement our caravan North.

It had been three weeks of slow trek. "If only we had horses" Florence had mused, "Life would be so much easier." Horses were few and far between here in Nigeria.

Florence had struggled with the heat and humidity at first, especially dressed in European clothes including corset and flannelled underwear, modifying her garb to suit, disposing of some of the heavier items. Now dressed in similar fashion to the men in khaki shirt but with a silk camisole and culottes and silk underwear, and calf length boots.

Florence had complained to me about the black porters staring at her but I assured her it was only because they had probably never seen a white woman before let alone one who was blond. I told her that I would speak to our guide and that he would instruct the head porter, who I called Adam because I couldn't pronounce his African name.

Carstairs and I called the head porter over and told him that this behaviour must cease. Adam said in his broken pidgin English he would speak to his men. Nevertheless, the stares continued even more.

Over the next two days the native porters were clearly becoming agitated and uneasy about something. Florence asked, first our own guide, who spoke the native language, what it was which was making them fidget so much. He told her it was nothing to be concerned about, however when she asked me if he had told me anything different, I naively confirmed the guide had informed me they were apprehensive about approaching a dangerous tribes' lands.

After we had set up camp the following afternoon, the porters gathered in a group and animatedly pointed and gestured in raised voices, discussing something in their own language.

"What are they talking about?" Florence asked.

"They are about to leave us." replied Beecham. "They say that now the hunters have left we have less guns for protection."

"They can't leave, we need them to carry our belongings and equipment, so we can continue on to our missionary work at the mission."

Florence became a little frantic.

"James, make them stay. Offer them more money or something."

"Darling, we don't have more money, only a letter of credit with a bank in the river delta region in Southern Nigeria"

"Then offer them some of the equipment or stores."

"Beecham, ask them what they want to make them stay." Said the reverend.

Beecham then had walked over to talk to Adam, the porter's leader and asked him in Swahili if there was anything that would change their minds to make them stay.

Adam glanced at Florence before replying in his native tongue.

We Joined Carstairs and Adam, anxious to find out their answer.

Beecham looked sheepish as he answered their questions.

"Er, um he hesitated before revealing that Adam and his men had never seen a blond-haired white woman before and well, quite frankly would stay for an extra day or two if they could see if she was white all over,"

"Oh" was all Florence could say. I was dumbstruck with outrage and anger.

How could this even bear thinking about? Even I had not ever seen her completely naked. Any matrimonial couplings had taken place in darkened rooms clothed in nightwear and under cover of blankets, as was the normal custom in any decent households.

When Florence recovered a little, she managed "I couldn't possible do something like that. It is not something any decent white woman could consider."

"Out of the question" I shouted, my anger on display to Adam and the rest of the porters.

Beecham repeated my outrage in their native language.

Adam looked at Florence from head to toe leaving no doubt to his lustful thoughts. After a pause he simply said "We go now." Turning to his men and waving his arms in a shooing action and speaking in his native tongue they turned as one and began to walk away.

"Wait, WAIT!" Florence exclaimed. They stopped. "We must do something James! We have a responsibility to bring the word of God to the heathens in this country."

"I forbid it." I said.

"I have to do it; we have no choice! Beecham, tell Adam I will do as he asks later this evening when its dark in front of a low camp fire."

Evening came around, the camp illuminated by the campfire in the clearing in front of the two tents, Adam and his men sat around the clearing in a semi-circle facing the tents, awaiting the appearance of Florence. She emerged from our tent, dressed in her Khaki shirt and culottes, and calf length boots. The porters murmured amongst themselves in anticipation. Florence stood before the fire. Beecham and I stood between the two tents facing the fire behind Florence. Carstairs stood before the opening to his and Beecham's tent. Beecham kept his gun close by.

The flames from the low campfire were casting shadows, hiding her fear and nervousness. She told me later she had wondered "Could she go through with it?" She so desperately wanted to bring the word of God to the heathens in this country.

Adam approached her, walked up close, inches from her. She could smell his offensive odour. Tugging her sleeve cuff gently between two fingers, he told her in broken English "Lady take now."

She took a half step back. "Don't touch me!

"Sit over there with the others" she commanded, pointing at the fire.

Adam backed away, never taking his eyes off her.

After a moments more hesitation, Florence began to unbutton her shirt.

"No, No, No." I muttered to myself, the panic building within me.

Florence continued undaunted, telling me later, the tune 'Onward Christian soldiers' was going through her mind, giving her strength to do what she needed to do. Button by button from the top she continued, revealing a white silk camisole, before she pulled her shirt away from her skirt and then down her arms and dropped it on the floor behind her. She quickly unfastened her leather belt and skirt fastenings and let it also drop to the floor. She stood there tremulously shivering even though the temperature was warm and balmy. The shivering was caused by her fear and trepidation. She had never thought even in her wildest imagination that she would ever be stood before a dozen men practically naked.

Adam stepped forward once more and tugged on her tied-up hair. Understanding what he meant, stepping back a couple of paces, she stood momentarily then took out the clips and let it cascade down over her shoulders. He beautiful golden hair fell in ringlets almost to her breasts, shining brightly in the flickering glow of the campfire. She looked defiantly at Adam who continued to stare unabashedly taking in her female form with obvious delight.

"There. Satisfied? She asked to no one in particular, thinking her strip to her underwear was sufficient to slake the curiosity of native bearers to see a white European woman undressed.

A murmur among the bearers clearly directed at Adam got his attention. He nodded to them and stepped towards Florence once more, this time tugging at her camisole.

Fear struck Florence "Please God give me strength to carry me through," twisting sideways and looking back at me before taking the hem of her camisole in both hands, drew it up and over her head, revealing her magnificent full rounded breasts before lifting free of her head causing her gorgeous blond ringlets to cascade once more down her body, turning back towards the porters.

The effect on all of the bearers was instantaneous with a few now standing, making obviously lewd comments in their own language, all moving slightly closer. She could smell their muskiness.it was overpoweringly strong. She knew what was coming next. She was correct. Adam closed towards her, grasped her silk briefs and almost tore them as he pulled at them, raising an excited commotion among the rest of the bearers.

She shook her head. "No." stepping back further towards the tent flaps opening.

I stepped forward a pace to intervene but Florence held up her hand palm towards me.

She looked balefully at me and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her underwear. Drawing a deep breath, she pulled her briefs down to her knees, bending at the waist to step out of them. Standing behind her, I together with Carstairs and Beecham were presented with a glimpse of her cleft at the top of her legs. The shock of the scene struck me with almost a physical impact, and I am ashamed to say, sending a thrilling tremor through the whole of my body.

Standing up straight, Florence put her hands on her hips, and puffed up her chest in defiance with a bravado she told me later she did not feel, standing before them all for a full ten seconds before turning away.

I was stunned, my breath was carried away, I could barely breathe. In the ten years we had been married, I had never seen my wife fully naked before. Taking her by the hand I led her inside of our tent.

The bearers had grins on their faces and had enjoyed the display immensely. A few of them had their hands on their crotches, squeezing their genitals, their manhood in an obvious state of arousal.

Inside the tent, with the flap closed, the I drew my wife towards me. Florence needed my comforting embrace, but as I hugged her close, she couldn't help but feel my own obvious shameful sexual arousal through my pants.

"James!" she had exclaimed, drawing back and looking at my state of excitement.

"Darling, I am sorry but I couldn't help it, seeing you naked like that. I can't explain.

"I hope Carstairs, Beecham and those heathen savages aren't as red blooded, otherwise my chastity may be severely threatened. Anyway, I think me being naked in front of other men may have something to do with your state of arousal."

"I have to admit that there is an element of that. I'm sorry."

"Hold me please James."

I embraced her again, feeling my erection rub against her, stimulating my urges beyond my control. I laid her down on the camp bed, stripped off my shorts, and parting her legs, and immediately inserted my penis easily into her, she was surprisingly moist. Thrusting only briefly, after a few strokes, I ejaculated. My passion was quickly spent. Florence had never had an orgasm. Both of us didn't know what it even was. She didn't have one now.

Florence had laid awake for most of the rest of the night. Consoling herself with the thought that they would carry on further into the interior to continue their missionary work. Only another two or three days should see them arrive at their destination. She hoped she wouldn't have to do this each night.

The next morning, we were preparing to break camp but noticing the bearers, their leader Adam standing around in deep conversation with Beecham the safari guide. Eventually he walked over to where my wife and I were standing.

"I have some bad news for you. They are refusing to decamp and carry on the trek unless you meet their demands."

"But I did what they asked last night!"

"They say that was to stop them leaving and going back to their villages last night."

"What on earth do they want now?" asked the Reverend Lock.

"They want a repeat performance each evening, the same as last night."

"Tell them I agree "Florence said without hesitation. "I trust we can rely upon your silence on what has happened on this trek Beecham? I want your word you will not speak a word of any of this to anyone in future. Our reputations would be ruined and wouldn't be able to carry on our work here."

"Of course," replied Beecham. "You have my word as a gentleman. I shall let them know."

He spoke to Adam and his men briefly, and they immediately lit up with smiles and began to strike camp.

Travelling all day in the hot and humid conditions, they added another ten miles or so on their journey. It was early evening and time to make camp. The porters quickly set up the two tents for the Reverend, his wife, their servant and the party guide. Soon after a fire was going and the evening meal was being cooked by Carstairs, the servant.

The porters having done their days work sat around in anticipation of the entertainment to come. Some were dressed in ragged shorts and singlets while most were dressed in traditional wrap around skirts and robes.

The reverend, his wife and their guide Beecham sat around the small camp table eating their meal.

"Pour me another glass of wine darling."

Florence didn't normally drink much, but both I and Beecham suspected it was to bolster her courage of what she was to do later. It wasn't only the black men who were excited about seeing her naked. It was also Beecham and Carstairs whose behaviour was apparent , it also included me. I had been unexplainedly thrilled and excited to see my wife standing as naked as Eve in the Garden of Eden in front of all these men in the wilds of Africa. I poured her a very large glass of wine.

After a third glass, Adam spoke to the guide in his native language incomprehensible to everyone but Beecham except for the one word at the end; "Now." We all knew what was said without having to be interpreted for us.