"Don't you know that Calabar is the white man's grave?" asked one of her
school friends.
"Yes," answered Mary. "But it is also a post of honor. Since few volunteer
for that section, I wish to go because my Master needs me there."
At last the time had come for Mary to leave for Africa. For fourteen long
years she had worked at the looms in the weaving factory. As she worked,
she had dreamed of Calabar. Now her dream was going to come true. Mary went
to the city of Liverpool. There she went on board the ship, the "S. S.
Ethiopia." As she got on board she looked around. Everywhere were barrels
of whiskey.
"Hundreds of barrels of whiskey, but only one missionary," said Mary sadly.
The boat whistle blew. The engines chugged. The "S. S. Ethiopia" was on
its way. It was August 5, 1876. Mary saw the shoreline of Scotland become
dimmer and dimmer. She looked forward to seeing the coast of Africa and the
land of Calabar.
"At last I am on my way to Calabar," said Mary Slessor as the
"S. S. Ethiopia," sailed southward. "How Mother would like to be with me!
How often she prayed that God would send more missionaries to Calabar. I
didn't think then that I would really be one of them."
It did not take Mary long to make friends on board the ship. Among the
friends she made were Mr. and Mrs. Thomson.
"So you are going to Calabar," said Mr.
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