The S. S. Zamzam left New York (Hoboken), March 20, 1941, for Suez, via Trinidad, Pernambuco, Capetown, and Mombasa. It was declared a neutral ship. Its passengers were chiefly missionaries bound for Africa.

Its American agents wrote us January 10: "The Zamzam, formerly the S. S. Leicestershire of the Bibby Line, is now one of the passenger liners of the Egyptian Government fleet, and flies the Egyptian flag. She is therefore a neutral vessel. This line is now maintaining a regular service of passenger and freight ships . . . avoiding the so-called 'combat zones.' . . . To date we have booked more than 120 missionaries and their families."

Shortly after her departure the agents gave us the following information: "The Zamzam sailed at 10:55 P.M., March 20, with 201 passengers. We are pleased to announce that 144 of these were missionaries, of whom 83 were children under fourteen years of age."

Twenty Protestant denominations as well as the Roman Catholic Church were represented among its passengers of missionaries. These missionaries were bound for thirteen different areas or provinces in Africa. Probably never before had a ship left our shores for the "Dark Continent" with such a host of Christian ambassadors.

The Augustana Synod had the following members among its passengers:

Mrs. Elmer R. Danielson and children, Laurence, Eleanor, Evelyn, Luella, Wilfred, and Lois;
Rev. Ralph D. Hult;
Rev. and Mrs. V. Eugene Johnson and children, Victor and David;
Miss Velura Kinnan;
Dr. and Mrs. C. Einar Norberg and children, Marie J., Carl E., and Ruth E.;
Miss Esther M. Olson.

It is no easy matter to cross the oceans now. There are so many things which must be considered, things we hardly dreamed of a few years ago.

Few are the boats which now carry passengers to Africa or Asia, and ships flying our own flag are not always available. Generally the few ships which sail have their reservations filled six months or more in advance.

Then there is the more than ever important American passport which must be obtained from our State Department, and when this has been secured it must receive a visa from the British consul, if one is to enter a British-mandated possession such as Tanganyika. This visa, under present rules brought about by the great war, can not be received until the government at the port of entry, Tanganyika, has officially informed the British consul in America that the person in question is acceptable over there. To make all these arrangements by mail under present conditions may take half a year. It therefore becomes necessary, occasionally, to resort to cables, and when it came to making the necessary arrangements for our Zamzam passengers, the cables saved months of time. It was only two or three days before the boat left that we were assured of the required papers for all our passengers, and had the sailing date not been deferred Mrs. Danielson and family would not have been aboard.

Mrs. Danielson had the shortest time in which to get ready, and we marveled at the fact that she was in New York City ready to go aboard when the ship set sail.

Her husband, Rev. Elmer R. Danielson, volunteered to return to Africa alone in the summer of 1940, since at that time there was a ruling denying women and children entrance to British East Africa. When we received a letter from her husband asking if it might be possible for his family now to come to Africa in company with the other missionaries, we called her by telephone.

"Do you wish to go, and do you think it will be possible for you to get ready, if necessary papers can be obtained?" we asked.

Yes, she would get both herself and her children ready. Most of us would ask for a month or two, at least, in which to prepare for a journey to Africa. She was ready in a week!

But our cabled request for an entry permit waited for an answer. The ship was now scheduled to sail March 15, and on March 11, after consulting the British consul in Chicago, I was forced to telegraph Mrs. Danielson: "No visa obtainable. You must wait."

Next day we were told that sailing had again been deferred until March 19.

Mrs. Danielson suggested trying again. This we did, and through the quick and courteous co-operation of the British consuls in Chicago and New York City, it became possible to wire Mrs. Danielson at Lindsborg. Kansas, on March 14, that her visa was obtainable in New York City. Three days afterwards she was in New York City.

To some it may seem strange to take children of school age on such a journey at this time of the year. But let us remind you that among our missionaries were two experienced school teachers, who were on their way out to Tanganyika to open a school for our missionaries' children. They had school books and necessary material with them on the boat, and the first day out of New York City school started. Other missionaries' children also availed themselves of this opportunity, and this school continued until the shelling of the Zamzam, April 17. We feel certain that these children will carry with them lessons for life from these school days on the Zamzam.

During their stay in New York City, our missionaries were the guests of the Lutheran Home for Women. Dr. Emmy Evald and her assistants did all in their power to make their last hours in America pleasant. The memory of such kindness and hospitality lingers with the travelers. A farewell reception was tendered our missionaries at the Bethlehem Lutheran Church, Dr. Gideon Olson, pastor, the evening before embarkation.

Dr. Ralph H. Long, executive secretary of the National Lutheran Council and director of Lutheran World Action, visited with our missionaries as they boarded the boat. Thereupon he wrote us: "There are a great many missionaries on the boat and I sincerely hope the boat will make a safe journey . ... When I saw the great number of missionaries who were going I thought of a company of soldiers going forth without the visible presence of a captain, without any mounted guns for defense, and yet one which will probably accomplish for the Lord and for the world more than many of the finely disciplined armies that are on the march today."

The ship was, after several delays, supposed to sail March 19. It did not leave the harbor, however, until late the following evening. Aboard the ship Dr. Norberg penned his impressions the next morning.

"At last," he wrote, "we hear the old familiar chug! chug! of the propeller and engine, and we are heading south. We finally got started late last night, and it was a most unusual departure from this mighty metropolis. As we slowly slid down the Hudson River past the brilliantly illumined Statue of Liberty a large group of missionaries on board gathered on deck and sang a few hymns, such as, 'He Leadeth Me, O Blessed Thought,' 'Send Out Thy Light,' and many others. With the millions of lights from fantastic Manhattan, Staten Island, Jersey City, and other places of the surrounding country, including the lit torch held high by the Statue of Liberty lighting our way out of the harbor, I could not help but reflect upon the fact that few are the harbors today where so much light is permitted at night. May God in His infinite mercy grant that America's harbors may ever be lit and keep on sending out many more boatloads of missionaries to countries where God's gospel is yet unknown."

"The children's school is in full swing every day," he wrote in another letter. "All the children of school age are attending. I certainly feel that we are signally blessed to have those two girls with us as teachers. We are close to 150 missionaries on this ship, of whom about twenty are Roman Catholics and the rest are from various Protestant denominations in America. Is it not reassuring to know that the American churches can send so many missionaries off to Africa? For every missionary on this ship there are hundreds of Christians at home who are with us in prayers and gifts, that His kingdom may be extended to far-off Africa."

Could anything happen to such a ship? If so, did God not hear our prayers?

God has not promised to keep His children out of trials, but He has promised to be with them in their troubles. "Fear not, for I have redeemed thee. When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee."---Isaiah 48. . He who accompanied the three young men into the midst of the burning fiery furnace (Daniel 3), and Daniel when cast among the lions, and Paul when in prison and shipwreck, also accompanied our missionaries on the Zamzam. In the darkest hour of their terrific experience He went as far as to spread His rainbow in the western sky. Had He visually appeared on the waters, He could hardly have said more than to point them to His promises. Now He spoke to them in a language that Christians of every tongue could understand. Our prayers were heard and answered. Every life was saved by the grace of God, who still is found to work miracles. What His purpose was in permitting them to pass through these trials may not yet be evident to us, but we believe that even this was intended to glorify His name.

When our missionaries were safely aboard the Zamzam, March 20, we felt relieved, because we knew, after many efforts, that at last they were on their way to the many black folks in Tanganyika who needed the gospel and their healing ministry so badly. Yet we felt an anxious concern over their safety. Each day thousands of us here in the homeland, as well as the missionaries across the seas, prayed and waited, glad for each day that passed, knowing that it was bringing them nearer to their destination.

"We will send you a cable as soon as we land," they had promised. Now it was time that this cable should come. Many of us began to wonder.

"I'm wondering if you have heard anything from our Africa-bound missionary party?" wrote Mrs. Hult May 2. As we came into the middle of May many others began to ask the same question.

The Board of Foreign Missions met May 15.

One guess made on that day came nearer the truth than we realized. "Maybe they are not permitted to send a cable," it was suggested. We hoped then that they were in Mombasa. Five days later they landed in France.

May 19, 1941 is the saddest day in Augustana Synod history. We praise God that He turned what this day seemed like a crushing blow, followed by a dark night, into an occasion of rejoicing so soon.

How merciful God was to the first disciples when He let Easter come so soon after Good Friday!

We, might easily have been kept in uncertainty or despair for weeks. Now it was only for 24 hours.

My telephone rang early on the morning of May 19. I was hoping that it was Western Union with a cable from Africa. Instead it was my secretary asking with a quivering voice, "Have you heard that there was a radio announcement that the Zamzam is lost?"

Most of that morning was spent at the telephone. The newspapers and press services not only asked us for all information available, but they also co-operated most kindly by instantly telephoning us every bit of news or conjecture about the Zamzam and its passengers the minute it was received. We also made contact with the nearest relatives of our missionaries. Thousands in our Synod, from coast to coast, were deeply affected. From many parts of our land I have heard them say: "I could not work that day!" Our nineteen who had set out so joyously in the Lord for the great African harvest fields were dead.

In company with Dr. Leonard Kendall we went to call upon the mother of Pastor V. Eugene Johnson. But how were we to comfort her?

She bore up bravely, probably not realizing yet to the full the import of it all, while we visited with her. The emotional reaction probably came afterward. We could only point to God's promises and pray together, and then suggest that there might still be hope. "In the South Atlantic it would be more likely that they had been attacked by a raider than by a submarine. We have heard of raiders saving the passengers when they sink a ship. Let us wait for further reports. There is yet a possibility that they are alive." This was the best that we could hope for and say, because our fears were stronger than our faith.

We meant to comfort Doris and Daniel Johnson, but they had greater faith than we. They had assurance in their souls that all would turn out well. I could only pray: "God, let not their faith be put to shame!"

In the afternoon the Executive Committee of the Board of Foreign Missions came together to pray, to weep, and to consult about any steps that might be taken to obtain official information. We contacted Congressman Oscar Youngdahl in Washington, and he promised to secure for us from the Department of State any information which might be in its possession about the Zamzam sinking and the fate of its passengers. This he did immediately and sent us several valuable communications on following days.

The teachers and students of our church schools were all concerned. From the dean of the Seminary came this telegram: "If this hour be the Gethsemane in the history of our Synod's foreign mission, then we of the Seminary would join with you in asking God to give us grace to utter the difficult petition, 'Thy will be done.' Surely the Lord is not going to let His great cause suffer defeat. We are praying that what may appear as a defeat now shall ultimately result in a greater victory for the mission cause in our Synod. As for His messengers on the Zamzam, they are in God's keeping and we hope to see them again whether that be down here or up yonder."

When night came it was hard to sleep.

Then dawned a new day with Easter joy. Before I was out of bed the telephone rang.

"This is the United Press," said the voice at the other end of the line. "We just received some good news about your friends. They are all alive and safe." And then be added: "Have you anything to say?"

"Thank God! is all that I can say. It seems too good to be true."

We had been walking in the dark valley with our friends. Now we were suddenly taken to the very mountaintop with God. It was a real Easter experience. We could now better understand what we read about the first disciples, "They still disbelieved for joy."

As the hours of this day sped on, the radio and the press continued to give reports to the effect that all the passengers were safe and were being brought to some neutral port. We were also thinking of our missionaries in Africa, particularly Pastors Danielson and Olson. Had the news broken over there? We had no way of knowing what agonies they might be passing through. We cabled Dr. Geo. N. Anderson, president of our Africa mission: "Reports Zamzam sunk. All passengers safe at German-occupied port." This was sent May 20. Apparently it took some days before it was delivered to our missionaries in Tanganyika.

The same day Congressman Youngdahl wired: "State Department has not yet received official confirmation of rescue of all persons aboard Zamzam. Cable being sent today to Germany officially to verify radio reports."

May he sent us another message: "State Department advised they received telegram from American consul Bordeaux advising all American passengers safe at St. Jean de Luz, France, and that he is proceeding to St. Jean to determine communications available."

We now knew that all our missionaries had been saved, but as yet we could only guess as to the experiences which they had passed through. As yet they were not in position to communicate with us while they continued to be the "guests" of the German government.

Efforts were made through the Foreign Missions Conference of North America and in other ways to ascertain if the missionaries would be permitted to proceed to Africa. Over in France our missionaries, as we later ascertained, made similar inquiries. May 9 we received this message from Hon. Cordell Hull, Secretary of State: "Your telegram of May 27 received regarding your missionaries from S. S. Zamzam proceed Africa. As route of travel from Portugal to Africa is through combat zone area waters, permission to validate passports for such purpose can not be granted. Information received from Department's representatives abroad indicates Americans from Zamzam safe and well, comfortably accommodated at Biarritz where they are given freedom of city pending release for travel. Department's representatives in touch with them and are looking after their welfare."

Then reports came that all missionaries who could prove American citizenship would be released and taken through Spain to Lisbon, Portugal, from which port they would be assisted aboard the earliest boats possible for return to America. As soon as our missionaries reached Sintra, near Lisbon, June 8, they sent us the following cable: "Isaiah 63. 9. All well. Greet friends and relatives. Washington orders us home. Psalm 14. Your Nineteen. Norberg."

How happy we were to receive this cable! It was the first direct word from our missionaries since the day their ship sailed from Pernambuco, South America. It was received June 4. They were all not only saved, but also well!

We opened our Bibles and read Psalm 124:

"If it had not been Jehovah who was on our side,
Let Israel now say,
If it had not been Jehovah who was on our side,
When men rose up against us;
Then they had swallowed us up alive.
When their wrath was kindled against us:
Then the waters had overwhelmed us,
The stream had gone over our soul;
Then the proud waters had gone over our soul.
Blessed be Jehovah, who hath not given us as a prey to their teeth.
Our soul is escaped as a bird out of the snare of the fowlers:
The snare is broken, and we are escaped.
Our help is in the name of Jehovah.
Who made heaven and earth."

From Sintra it also was possible for our missionaries to write letters to friends and relatives in America and in Africa. These were the first letters they had been able to send since leaving Pernambuco, about two months earlier. How much they had lived through since then! They had much to write about, but what their thousands of friends were most anxious to hear now was that they were well and had suffered no harm from their strange experiences.

Then came reports that the Zamzam survivors were being placed on ships bound for America. From the State Department came a telegram June 16: "Reference your telegram of June 13 concerning probable date arrival New York of Zamzam survivors. Velura Kinnan and Esther Olson scheduled arrive Portuguese steamer Mouzinho June 22. V. Eugene Johnson and Carl E. Norberg and their families scheduled arrive Portuguese steamer Serpa Pinto June 24; Cordell Hull."

Saturday morning, June 1, I arrived at the Lutheran House in New York. Just as I came through the door Mrs. Carlson, Dr. Evald's daughter, was at the telephone. She was asking somebody when the S. S. Mouzinho would arrive, and I heard her say, "Is it docking now?" Yes, although it was due on Sunday it was docking in the harbor now, and in a few minutes the passengers would begin to disembark.

Mrs. Carlson was kind enough to accompany me to Pier 7, Staten Island. It took a long hour to get there by subway and ferry and bus. I managed to get near to the foot of the gangplank but could obtain no information regarding our passengers. For some hours I stood there watching the passengers, mostly Jewish refugees, come ashore. It was a study in human emotions. Many of these refugees were children whose parents were dead or in concentration camps. Some were old and tottering. Many had escaped living deaths. Now they were in America! Some of the folks at the pier became uncontrollable when they recognized an aged parent or some other relative on the deck. They called at the top of their voices only to have their cries drowned by a hundred other voices. They stormed the gangplank repeatedly, and some had to be forcibly led away by the guards. The men embraced one another and kissed fervently. It was apparent that Jewish folks are very emotional. Had we known what fears and sufferings and tragedies had intervened since some of these folks last met, we would have appreciated their released emotional frenzy much better. But we understood in part. After all, were we not there to meet friends over whom we but a few weeks ago had wept as dead? It was a setting in which we felt at home.

(1) Mrs. Elmer R. Danielson and children. Photo by PM Syndicate.	(2) Miss Velura Kinnan and Miss Esther Olson.	(3) Rev. Ralph D. Hult.

Rev. and Mrs. V. Eugene Johnson and sons, Victor and David.	Dr. and Mrs. C. Einar Norberg and family.

Our two missionaries had been among the first to disembark, and having very little baggage they had slipped through customs before our arrival. We had the joy of meeting them a little later at the Lutheran Home. Out of the depths they had returned to America and the Augustana Synod. Yet they looked both well and happy. Now they had to tell us as much as possible about what our missionaries had passed through. That evening we had the first thanksgiving service, at the Home.

Monday morning, June 23, I was off to Staten Island again to meet the Serpa Pinto. It was another Portuguese ship, carrying another overcrowded load of Jewish refugees, among whom some Zamzam survivors had been pushed in after every accommodation had been more than sold out. Boats like these must make good money for their owners as long as they manage to stay afloat.

Yes, here they were, hale and happy: Dr. and Mrs. C. Einar Norberg and their three children, and Rev, and Mrs. V. Eugene Johnson and their two youngest children. Another Easter experience! Soon we were on our way to the Lutheran Home, where eleven of our survivors were now comfortably housed.

Next day, June £24, the S. S. Exeter was due with Mrs. Elmer R. Danielson and her children. It was to dock at one o'clock, but by this time we had discovered that this might also mean eleven or twelve o'clock or anytime in the afternoon. Consequently Dr. Norberg and I were off in the forenoon for Hoboken and the pier. The boat docked at three o'clock. It did not take long until we could see Mrs. Danielson on deck. What a thrill it was! How you all would have enjoyed being there when she came down the gankplank surrounded by her six children who clung closely to her. I could only wish that her husband might have been there to greet this plucky and brave missionary mother just then. His brother was there instead. He had come from Meriden, Connecticut, to take the Danielson family up there for a few days of rest and family rejoicing.

When the reporters and photographers and customs officials were through with Mrs. Danielson we said good-by to her near the pier, as she was sped on her way to Meriden. As they moved out of our sight we again thanked God for their safety. Two months ago these children had been adrift in the South Atlantic. Had even one been lost, how different this homecoming would have been! "Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all His benefits!"

Now we had seen and greeted eighteen of our missionary group. Rev. Ralph D. Hult had not returned. With much relief we read a telegram from the Department of State stating that he was aboard the S. S. Excalibur and would arrive in New York June 30.

Now began a unique series of receptions and thanksgiving services.

The first one was at the Bethlehem Church in Brooklyn, Dr. Gideon Olson, pastor. A little more than three months earlier, as already mentioned, a farewell reception had been tendered in this church for this group. Now warm words of welcome home were spoken. Most of our pastors in the great metropolitan area were present. The missionaries related some of their experiences, and together we praised a merciful God.

That same evening we boarded a train for Jamestown, N. Y., the whole missionary party except Mrs. Danielson and children, and of course Rev. Hult.

We arrived in Jamestown at noon the next day. A large group of friends had assembled on the platform. As we emerged from the train they were singing, "Praise God from whom all blessings flow!" Pastor Constant Johnson, I was told, had arranged this and was going to be the song leader, but when he saw the once-mourned-as-dead missionaries something came into his throat and eyes, "which made him a very poor song leader." The others, struggling with their tears of joy, managed to go through with the beautiful greeting. It was another impressive, unforgettable moment. Thank God for Christian fellowship!

In the evening we assembled in the beautifully redecorated sanctuary of the First Lutheran Church. Words of welcome were spoken by the pastor and by Dr. Felix Hanson, president of the New York Conference. The missionaries spoke. Here, as in the other places, fitting and beautiful music was rendered, and we praised God for His deliverance. This was Miss Esther Olson's home city and she had therefore the joy of spending a few hours with her parents.

Early Thursday morning we were on our way again, bound for Chicago, and when we pulled into the Dearborn Station we were immediately met by Rev. Theodore L. Rydbeck and some of his members. Another happy reunion, and then we were whisked to homes for supper and then to the Messiah Church.

Here we were greeted by a packed church and with tender words of welcome. A large number of our pastors were in the audience. Everyone in the congregation was touched by the stories of God's miraculous mercy as told by our missionaries.

Next day we were on our way again, now for Minneapolis, all except Mrs. Norberg and her children, who felt the tugging at the heartstrings of the dear ones in Nebraska and therefore left from Chicago for Omaha.

What a joyous meeting and reunion at the Milwaukee Station in Minneapolis! Grandma Johnson, Doris and Daniel Johnson were there, and a host of other relatives and friends. Between reunion joys and reporters and photographers Dr. Leonard Kendall had reason to feel concerned over how to get us all on our way to the Messiah Church, where a capacity congregation was anxiously waiting to see and to hear our survivors.

This service constituted what might be called the official homecoming and thanksgiving service, because here they were greeted by, among others, Dr. P. O. Bersell, the president of Augustana Synod, and Mrs. Daniel T. Martin, the president of the Woman's Missionary Society of the Synod.

Sunday evening, June 29, a similar service was held in the Gustavus Adolphus Church, St. Paul, Rev. C. Vernon Swenson, pastor. This service was sponsored by the District Woman's Missionary Society and the churches of the St. Paul District.

What experiences did our missionaries pass through, and how did God intervene to save their lives and bring them safely back from shelling and from drowning and from prison?

We have asked each one to tell one phase of their experiences.

Here you will have this in their own words.

What a thrill! Homeward bound for Africa. My heart beat just a little faster as I remembered the African friends whom it has been our great joy to see translated from darkness into His marvelous light. Even our little ones were all anticipation as they exclaimed: "Daddy will meet us in Africa." With me, it was the "bridegroom" awaiting at home for me, and no traveling on a vast sea could efface my hope of that happy reunion. How like life itself!

There was so much hymn singing on the pier by friends of embarking passengers that already I felt it was going to be a "missionary pilgrimage" to Africa. Out of the 200 passengers there were some 120 Protestant missionaries, besides the 20 Roman Catholic fathers who also were going to their mission work. Never before had I traveled with so many workers going to Africa, not for the gold that glitters, but to seek gems for His diadem.

We said good-by to friends and went inside to see what our "home" for the next two months would be like. This Egyptian boat was thirty-one years old, and was an 8,300-ton ship. I have never found a smoother riding vessel, nor have I seen cleaner decks. During the voyage the inside walls were cleaned, some renovations were made, and painting was done. Despite some things which were not so commendable for the ship, I like to remember those things which endeared the ship even to us. The Egyptians were proud of her. Had she not carried many Mohammedans on sacred pilgrimages to Mecca? Had she not carried British troops during the World War? Surely nothing could ever happen to their sacred ship.

Maybe it would be well to give you a resume of the type of passengers aboard, bound for Africa, a conglomeration of nationalities and vocations which was bound to make for cliques, be they social or otherwise. Out of the 200 passengers, there were 73 women and 35 children. There was a mixed group of 138 Americans, 6 Canadians, 25 Britishers, five South Africans, four Belgians, one Italian, one Norwegian, and two Greeks. Of the 129 members of the crew only the captain and the chief engineer were British, 106 were Egyptian, nine were Sudanese, two Yugoslav, one Czech, six Greek, one French, and two Turk. There was a banding together because of nationalistic lines as well as work. As the days passed we found these distinct cliques on board: the Catholic fathers, the six tobacco buyers from North Carolina, the 24 ambulance boys, the 120 missionaries, and then the Egyptian crew, as well as those passengers who belonged to neither of the above groups.

Night came the first day and we were still in port. How we had hurried to get to the boat in time, and here we still were! It was not until the evening of March 20 that the chief purser came along and happily announced: "Here I have the permit to sail. Now we can go." The engines were throbbing, and everything was ready. In another half hour we actually steamed out of harbor. Groups were singing on the deck, as we glided by the majestic Statue of Liberty. She held high the lighted torch in her hand, the lighted crown shone brightly in the night. It was a beautiful sight in the still eventide, saying good-by to America for another four and a half years' term of service. Oh, that farewell look at the Statue of Liberty, the last thing one sees as he glides out of the harbor, and it is the first to greet the wanderer on his return. Now we retired for the night, thanking God for the privilege of again going to garner sheaves in Africa, and praying His journeying mercies on the trip just begun.

Life on the Zamzam soon took on its routine order. Breakfasts were served from seven-thirty to nine. The children were initiated back into schooldays for two and a half hours each forenoon, Miss Olson taking the upper grades and Miss Kinnan the lower grades. Eyodele, a colored girl, was among the fifteen children attending school. Her parents told me that the name Eyodele means: "Joy has come to our house." I noticed no color prejudice among the children toward this new schoolmate. Were not even they going as missionaries to her people, and had not many of the children been born in Africa, the land of the blacks? Even the smaller children were often kept for kindergarten games and play for an hour by Mrs. Johnson and some of the other mothers.

Then came an interlude each forenoon from 11:30 until 12:15 when those who could would meet to sing and pray together, to read His Word and to testify of His love. There was much praying for the "unsaved" on board, that they too might know Jesus as a Saviour. A violin and trombone added life to the group singing. Thus in a quiet nook of the ship each day this spirit-minded group met, while in the near-by bar room others met for smoking, drinking, card playing, and other worldly amusements.

After dinner each day there was the quiet hour, when many of us mothers felt it necessary to get some needed rest also, while our little ones slept. Keeping an alert watch on six youngsters on a boat with an open railing, open spaces where the life boats stand in readiness, and with no daddy to share it all---well, it is a full-time job, and one often runs a good part of the journey to Africa. The more ambitious availed themselves of Ki-Swahili study taught by Rev. V. Eugene Johnson before teatime each day. For many of us there was individual brushing up on Kinilamba and other tribal languages. How we all longed to become better vessels to carry the gospel to those to whom we were going, and the spiritual requisites were not forgotten.

At three-thirty each day the tea bell sounded, and there over the teacup we all found one common bond of sociability. Even the little children acclaimed the factory biscuits a real delicacy. They did not so much enjoy the Egyptian spiced cooking at mealtimes.

Recreation was found in shuffleboard games, rope jumping, checkers, and hobbies of different kinds. With the less active ladies it was embroidery or knitting. Some passengers spent much time in some quiet nook reading. Writing letters to loved ones was not an uncommon occupation, especially a few days before we were to reach the next port.

To add a little variety to the routine, there might be injections for tetanus, whooping cough, or some other preventive measures. Our little children were so fearful of needles by this time, that they feared the kind doctors as well. Some later year they may thank God for these preventions and the doctors who serve.

Life on the Zamzam was much the same from day to day. Some succumbed to seasickness when the waves rolled higher, but we had few such days. One of the first uneasy moments for some perhaps came when on March 3 we put in at Baltimore for the day to pick up additional cargo and passengers. Then Captain William Smith, looking down on the pier where 120 missionaries were singing "Jesus Saviour, Pilot Me," with impudent competition from a less reverent group growled: "Bible punchers and sky pilots are bad luck. Mark me!"

From Trinidad, our boat began to travel blacked-out. What a strange new experience for most of us, to find our way in the dark, after supper, to our rooms along an unlighted outer deck, stubbing our toes on deck chairs, and all but falling or bumping into some other person groping in our direction in the dark! What a thrill to arrive at the right cabin finally, to knock on the door and warn the little ones: "Lights off, Mother wants to come in!" Several nights I rejoiced in a moon to help me find the way, and I was kindly rebuked by an old lady: "When you travel blacked-out, thank God not for moonlight nights, but for the blackest ones. Then we are safest." This was different. Was it all because of war? And yet, were we not going to Africa on His mission? One of my daughters often came to me: "Mother, I'm scared the boat will sink. I just know it will!" I always tried to calm her with: "We're riding safely. Jesus is our Pilot! Let's trust ourselves to Him." In my heart I knew no fear, but she must have had premonitions of something just ahead.

One awe-inspiring night I will not soon forget. It was around one o'clock and we were sneaking along in the dark. All at once, we were startled from our sleep by one long blast, followed in a few seconds by another. At the third we were up, and hurriedly the life jackets were being secured on each child. Something must be wrong, a boat's whistle when we wished to be unobserved. I stepped outside my cabin door. It was pitch black, misting, water five inches deep near the door. Was our boat sinking? Soon a venerable missionary came sloshing in the water and said: "Don't be alarmed. It is just a fog horn." Those were the sweetest words I had heard on the whole trip. We learned the next day that others had been fearful, too, even though many no doubt laughed at our night drill practice. How I thanked God the next week when we had to make our hurried exit that we had had our midnight practice.

The last Sunday on the Zamzam was a God-sent one. First of all on this glorious Easter morn, the children under the direction of their teachers testified so impressively in song, recitations and drills of the great Easter message: "He is risen! Jesus lives!" Then followed the service for the adults, and the "breaking of bread" together. God knew we needed a special strengthening of soul for that hard week just ahead of us.

As later we sat at the dinner table Rev. Dosumu, colored, felt sad that the next Sunday maybe we would be at Capetown, and it would mean the parting of the ways for many of us. This trip had not been different from others, many new friendships in Jesus had been made for eternity. I must confess that despite the farewells ahead, I was almost impatient to get to Capetown. Oh, for an airmail from "our daddy"! The last letter received was written November 29, and it seemed an age.

As to any scares along the way, only one is of importance. Permit me now to quote from the magazine, Life, for June 28. "The first real scare came on the afternoon of April 14. At 3:25 the ship which had been steering southwest swung hard to the west and, at top speed, headed back in the direction of South America. Around six o'clock, as dusk gathered, she veered southwest, holding that course until ten o'clock, when she turned south. It was not until an uneasy dawn revealed an empty sea that she finally squared away again for Capetown. Later the captain told me what had happened. Shortly after three o'clock his radiomen had picked up a conventional British warning, QQQ, meaning "suspicious ship," from a ship that sounded hard by. A few minutes later, while the radiomen were glued to the receivers, a second signal smashed in, a series of R's, meaning Raider, followed by a strident message: 'Being chased by a German raider. Course zero (due north). Fourteen knots.' She flashed her name as the Tai-Yin, of Norwegian registry, and her position as Lat. 22° 30" 5., Long. 16° 10" W., which would put her less than twenty miles southeast of where the Zamzam turned, just below the horizon, and fleeing directly across her track."

This will give you a picture, no doubt, of the uneasiness of those in charge of the ship and a few others, but for most of us, we knew very little as to why we had turned around, except that something unusual, some suspicious vessel was in the waters somewhere. I noticed very little change in the serious outlook of the passengers. There were some prayer groups here and there. How well I recollect one missionary couple passing some of their friends, saying: "We're going to the upper deck for a 'sundowner.'" This meant to pray before retiring.

God gave us such a beautiful sunset that evening of April 16, a peaceful afterglow in the heavens, tranquility, peace of God hovering near us, and we fell asleep in His arms for the night. The chapter of our life on the Zamzam had almost been written.

Next day was to write the fateful end of the Zamzam there in the South Atlantic, but in our hearts He engraved the "mercies of God" in His miraculous deliverance. And so on April 17 our "home" for one month was to pass into traceless oblivion, and we were made to realize that here we have no abiding place, and only the things of God shall abide forever.

I heard one of our missionaries speak about seven miracles in connection with their Zamzam journey. These were some of them:

That although fifty-five shots were fired at the Zamzam by the German raider, only nine reached the mark; yet the Germans are said to be good marksmen.

That although nine shells struck the Zamzam, no one aboard was killed. A few were injured. Most of the passengers were missionaries, but none of the missionaries was wounded, except that Mrs. Danielson received a cut from stepping on broken glass.

That although so many were cast into the open sea, among them several small children, no one was drowned. Every life was saved.

Each survivor had his or her own experiences that strange morning. No one can tell what his neighbor, in the presence of apparent death, thought and felt. We have therefore asked each one of our missionaries to tell us in his own way what he saw and lived through during those fateful moments.

There had been some speculation among the passengers over the possibility of running into a German surface raider or submarine. We had legitimate reasons to be concerned about just such an eventuality, especially because the Zamzam was traveling without lights at night. Its strange behavior in suddenly turning about and altering its course on April 14, after picking up a mysterious wireless message, gave real substance to some of the speculations. The passengers were kept in complete ignorance about world events, which gave added prestige to rumors. We saw the two press representatives, who had joined us at Pernambuco, calling on the captain in the latter's cabin quite often. No news of any unusual character came down to the rest of us even through these men. It did, however, charge the air with a mysterious sense of a possible impending danger. It was therefore not a complete surprise to some of us when early on April 17, the sound of shrieking shells split the air over us. If anyone slept through the sound of the first shell, they did not sleep after the second salvo came over, which followed the first within fifteen to twenty seconds.

There were no alarm signals or any orders to take to the lifeboats. The shelling became intense and lasted probably ten minutes in all.

After first disposing of the admiralty code book, messages, and other important papers from his safe, Captain Smith finally signalled the identity of his ship. The warship ceased firing immediately upon receiving this flashlight signal. In the meanwhile many passengers had been wounded, a few quite severely.

A number of people began to abandon the ship during the shelling. Each one had to decide for himself what to do. It was very difficult to know, while the shelling continued, which would be the wisest procedure, to stay in the cabin or to get out and away from the ship as soon as possible. No one could predict just where the next shell would hit, so one place had to be considered as unsafe as the other. Some took time to dress fully while others left in their night clothes.

The noise was terrifying and the uncertainty of how long the Zamzam would keep afloat under such punishment drove the majority of the people to seek refuge in the lifeboats. A few children were separated from their parents in the process of taking to the lifeboats. One child was left dangling on a rope ladder near the water when the lifeboat into which she had intended to land was pushed out from the ship and rowed away. The little girl had to climb up to the deck and seek out another lifeboat. Many of the lifeboats had been damaged and did not keep out water. Several had to be abandoned. Heads were seen bobbing up and down in the sea all about the listing Zamzam.

One boat capsized, throwing all its occupants into the sea. In this boat had been Mrs. Danielson and her six children and Rev. Hult, who were left in the water until the German warship came and picked them up. It was not a very hopeful picture to behold. The thought of sharks came to our minds with all the possible horrible consequences. The uncertainty of any help coming from a warship which had just treated us so brutally with high-explosive shells, did not brighten our prospects.

Our long-planned-for trip to Africa had suddenly come to an end. The equipment and all our supplies were on the slowly sinking Zamzam. We thought of the many prayers friends and we had sent up to God about our safety on our way to the needy fields in Africa. Yes, we were in the valley, when with the rising sun we saw God's sign of promise in the sky: a clear and beautiful rainbow. What a lesson that silent arch in the sky taught us that morning. "Though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for thou art with me."

This evening prayer seemed still to echo in my heart the fateful morning of April 17, at 5:30 o'clock. Only a few of the two hundred passengers and the one hundred and thirty members of the crew were awake when the shells from the surface raider began to hit the ship. While most of the thirty-five children aboard continued in carefree slumber, the adults awakened to the grim reality that death was coming close to them. Many of the passengers were too stunned to realize that swift action was necessary. Others who had encountered similar dangers before realized that the time for both prayer and action had come.

One mother spoke quietly to her ten-year-old son as she helped him into his lifeboat: "The Lord may spare us for further service, but if He wants to take us to His home now, we are ready, are we not, son?"

With a smile of confidence he replied, "Yes, Mother, we can trust Jesus always."

Our cabin was on the port side which faced the raider. When I jumped up on my older son's berth in order to close the porthole, I caught a glimpse of the raider and saw a flash as another shell was aimed at us. However, this shell fell short of its target and landed in the deep sea. Before I could arouse our four-year-old from his peaceful slumber, a shell struck less than twenty feet from us. This tore a huge hole in the side of the ship five feet below the waterline and caused the Zamzam to list heavily toward the port side. The smell of sulphur and the continued firing alarmed us. No word of direction came to us. Our cabin was next to the rear deck. When I opened the door I heard yelling and screaming on the upper deck aft. Some of the Egyptian crew were clamoring around lifeboat No. 10 to which we had been assigned. The deck was deserted. In my haste I concluded that the other passengers had awakened earlier and that only a few persons were left on the sinking Zamzam.

I told my husband that I could manage our two sons, Victor, age ten, and David, age four, so that he might render assistance to others who might be left on the ship. The noise of the shelling prevented him from hearing me. Victor was calm and brave. David was not fully awake, so I carried him up the steep iron ladder reserved for emergencies. As we crossed an open gangway leading to the rear of the ship, I helped David up and waved so the attackers might see there were children aboard. "Dear Lord, help our enemies to have compassion on us!" I prayed. The next shell passed over the ship. We climbed into the lifeboat assigned to us and crouched low as the firing continued.

We saw the terrible damage done by several shells which hit the ship, and we marvelled that our Zamzam did not become a blazing inferno. A Catholic priest entered the lifeboat. He was busy with his rosary, while the Mohammedan crew called loudly on Allah to save them. It seemed that hours had passed since the shelling began, and we had run for the lifeboat. The shelling ceased, and still my husband did not appear. In halting French I asked the priest if he had seen the father of Victor and David.

"Yes. I'm a holy father," he replied.

The shouting Egyptians prevented further conversation. They tried to pull the lifeboat away, but we heard other passengers calling and we forced the crew to hold the ropes while mothers, fathers, and their children, climbed down the ladder and sought for a place in the crowded lifeboat.

The Zamzam. Built in 1910. 8,900 tons. Photo copied from a British magazine by V. Eugene Johnson.	Passengers seeking safety in lifeboat at Zamzam's stern. Photo by Life magazine.

Finally, my husband also arrived and told us of his search for us and the fate of other passengers on the starboard side. We had left two older children in U.S.A. After commending them to the Lord, I told our ever-present Saviour, "Lord, if our task on earth is finished, prepare us and the children whom Thou hast given us for Thy home above."

The Lord never fails those who trust Him. A beautiful rainbow to remind us of His great promises arched the southern sky.

Our thoughts were with dear friends and fellow passengers, who were floating around in their lifebelts. Some clung to pieces of wreckage, others joined hands and encouraged one another. God gave us the assurance that He was ruling the winds and waves, and that we were kept in the hollow of His hand. Lifeboat No. 10 pulled slowly out to sea. When we reached over to examine the food box, we discovered that there was no food and no fresh water to drink.

Some time later we discovered that our adversaries intended to rescue us from the watery deep. None of us knew his fate. The Tamesis, the raider which had fired fifty-five shells at the Zamzam, drew near and we heard orders to come alongside. Then I had to ask God to forgive me for once saying that I had rather be dead than to be a prisoner of war.

It was a great relief to learn that the wounded were being treated, and that already more than one hundred persons had been rescued from the water. Though our dry lips uttered no sound, our hearts sang songs of deliverance. When a basket was lowered and he was requested to climb in, little David made his first protest. He did not want to leave Mummy, Dad, and Brother, and ride in a dark basket to an unknown destiny. He was less reluctant to try the new venture when he learned that some of his playmates had preceded him. He even said, "Thank you," when assisted into the basket.

I had taken a small case of necessities and a blanket with me, but I could not retain my hold on them as I climbed the swaying ladder. When I smiled and said, "Bitte," to the guard he lowered a rope and my bundle was brought up. The inspectors returned it to me without opening it.

"Where are my children?" was the first question I asked of the guard after I had thanked him for untying the rope which had enabled me to climb.

"I'm here, Mother," called Victor from a near-by hatch. "David has been taken downstairs. The guard told me to wait here. I'll be O.K., if you want to go to little brother."

I gave my brave little helper a hug and told him to be patient while I searched for the little one. I was directed below, but my knees began to shake as I walked down one flight of iron steps after the other. It became hotter and hotter as I descended to a room filled with women and children. There I found my baby David.

In searching for Mrs. Danielson and her six children, who had been floating around in the water, I first found our two Augustana teachers, who were busy encouraging weary mothers and frightened, silent children. I had opportunity to notice the scores of wooden bunks which filled about three-fourths of the room space. Each bunk was furnished with a mattress and a pillow of straw. Some names were written with white chalk on a number of bunks. When I saw "Kinnan and Peter" written on one, and "Olson and Wendy" on another bunk, I realized that the two Levitt children, whose mother had been severely wounded, would be well cared for.

The Danielson children were in need of clothes and food after their exposure in the water, and they smiled as our little emergency case yielded sweaters, gum, and a few sticks of candy. The other members of our party joined us in thanking the Lord that He had heard our call for help and saved us from a worse fate.

I had awakened early, and I was lying on my bunk meditating, when I heard a peculiar whine over the ship. Immediately my husband jumped up, saying, "Get up! We are being shelled!" He helped the two children, who were sleeping on the upper bunks to get down. Then he told us in a calm voice to take time to dress warmly and not to leave the cabin, as no signal had been given to do so.

The shells were coming over in quick succession now. Whenever one would hit our ship she would shudder and shake. The air was filled with the deafening sound of the bursting shells. I looked out of the porthole but once. There was the raider headed right for us. As I looked it seemed two guns fired. Those shells hit short of us, striking the water quite near.

God gave us the strength needed for that hour. As we were dressing, our son said: "Daddy, let's pray!" It was harder for our seven-year-old daughter to remain calm. I had just gotten a New Testament and the small portraits of my parents buttoned into a vest pocket, when a shell struck. It ripped through a couple of cabins and a corridor not many feet away. Our Ruth screamed, "Daddy, they'll shoot us!" After this explosion our corridor filled with smoke. We decided we must leave for our lifeboat.

Upon reaching the lifeboat station, we found that the boat had already been lowered into the water. It was well filled with members of the Egyptian crew, though very few of the passengers assigned to this boat were there. We proceeded to climb down the swaying rope ladder into the boat.

The Zamzam was listing to portside. We never knew at what moment she might roll over. Later the pumps were started. This helped straighten up the old ship for a few more hours of passive duty, before she was violently "spurlos versenkt."

We were a rather apprehensive group sitting in lifeboat No. 10. The men had to supervise the Egyptian crew in maneuvering the boat. Looming before us was the Tamesis, the ship which had deliberately caused our plight. We felt so small. All about us we saw people floating in the sea, the kapok lifebelts saving the many who did not know how to swim. Several boats had filled with water or capsized, thus forcing the people into the open sea. We did not know to what extent this calamity had brought death and suffering to our friends. Suddenly someone called our attention to God's promise shining in the sky! That beautiful rainbow seemed to speak words of comfort and trust as it appeared to embrace us in its calm majesty. God, not only a German raider, was near!

Soon we saw an officer on the Tamesis beckoning to us. We drew up close enough to hear him give the orders in English: "Come up alongside, please. We are taking you aboard." So we were not to remain in this little lifeboat without food and water. But what was to be our destiny after we had once been taken on board this German ship?

It was on Thursday, April 17, at 5:30 in the morning, that the attack on the Zamzam occurred. Most of the passengers were still asleep in their cabins. A few were already up and dressed. The only warning given was the explosion of the first shell fired from a distance of about three and a half miles. It was quite sufficient to awaken me and to make me aware of what was happening. It brought back vivid recollections of the last World War, in which I served for almost two years.

Other shells followed in quick succession, exploding with terrific force, some falling short of the ship, others passing harmlessly overhead, and nine of them hitting the ship, until, as we later learned from the chief gunner of the attacking ship, fifty-five shots had been fired.

As I awoke I cried to my wife and two sons, Victor, age ten, and David, age four: "Get up, quick! We're being shelled. Dress and put on your lifebelts." Even as I spoke shells exploded near by with such terrific detonations that we could hardly hear each other speak. Even so, my wife and son Victor acted with amazing coolness and self-control. David was too young to realize what was happening. In a few moments all of us were dressed and trussed up in our life preservers.

At first we thought our safest refuge was right in our cabin. But our cabin was located on the side of the ship nearest to the attacking raider, and when a shell struck near our cabin five feet below the waterline, causing the Zamzam to list heavily to port, we feared that the ship might suddenly roll over on its side, entrapping us like rats in our cabin. We decided to proceed to the lifeboat to which we had been assigned, No. 10 on the rear port deck. As we crossed an open hatch, I saw the raider in the distance, a grey silhouette against the morning horizon.

I determined to return to our cabin to secure our passport and moneybelt, and told my wife and children to go on to the lifeboat where I would rejoin them in a few moments. Hurriedly dragging out our steamer trunk from beneath one of the lower berths, I had it open in a flash and was digging among the contents for our passport and moneybelt when a shell struck with a deafening explosion about eighteen feet away, and immediately I heard cries of pain and calls for help.

Having obtained the objects of my search I rushed out into the corridor and discovered three men lying in pools of blood only a few feet away. They were Francis Vicovari, of the British-American Ambulance Corps, who had suffered a compound fracture of the right femur, a dislocated knee, and a deep flesh wound in the left leg, a shattered right ankle, and a broken upper right arm, as well as severe lacerations in other parts of his body; Dr. Robt. Starling, chiropractor, who had received a broken femur, deep flesh wounds in the left leg, deep lacerations and a broken ankle in the right leg; and Muhamed Baburi, an Egyptian member of the crew, who had suffered a deep wound in his abdomen and head injuries. Several other passengers reached the wounded men at the same time that I did and requested me to summon a physician, of which there were nine among the passengers.

This I did and afterward went to find my family, but could not discover them in the lifeboat to which we had been assigned. It had already been lowered, but passengers were still descending into it by means of a rope ladder. The Egyptian crew members in charge of it shouted vociferously at each other and because of this I suppose my calls to my wife and children could not be heard. So I went in search of them, calling at all the various lifeboat stations on both the lower and upper decks, but to no avail.

By this time the firing had ceased and I had opportunity to see close at hand some of the destruction wrought by the shells, which were of six- or eight-inch caliber. The port side of the lounge was blown to shreds, likewise other parts of the bridge. One shot had torn a huge hole right through the funnel. Another had hit the radio cabin, making it impossible to broadcast an S.O.S. This was a blessing in disguise, as the captain of the raider later told us that if such a distress message had been sent out, he would have sunk the Zamzam at once, in which case we probably would have been left to our fate, either to perish by drowning or from thirst and exposure in open lifeboats. Another shell had completely destroyed one of the lifeboats. Another of the lifeboats could not even be launched. So the people assigned to these boats had to seek room elsewhere. When two of the lifeboats, filled with people, were lowered into the water, they swamped, having been punctured by shrapnel, so that the occupants had to depend on their life preservers for support. Yet another lifeboat was dropped several feet with such force that when it struck the water it capsized, with the result that from these three lifeboats there were between 150 and 180 people floating around in the ocean, being kept afloat by their lifebelts. Among them were Pastor Ralph Hult and Mrs. Lillian Danielson with her six children, the youngest less than two years old and too small to wear a lifebelt. Lois Danielson had to be tied about the neck of her brave mother, who managed to keep her children together like little ducklings in a big pond. I finally returned to the lifeboat to which we had been assigned, but not until I had taken several pictures of the approaching raider, and of the people getting into the lifeboats.

When I came to our own lifeboat I was overjoyed to discover our son Victor in it. In answer to my shouted inquiry he pointed out my wife and son David huddled in the bottom. In a moment I was over the rail of the Zamzam and down the rope ladder to rejoin them. Just in time, too, before the Egyptians pulled away. In some instances the Egyptians rowed the lifeboats away, leaving passengers dangling at the very end of the rope ladders.

I shall never forget the sight of all those people, men, women and children, floating around in the water. At the time we did not know if the raider would come to our assistance. My faith tells me that there was Somebody walking on the surface of the deep among those bobbing heads, even as He did centuries ago on the Sea of Galilee, hearing also the cries of those men, women and children, even as He heard the cry of Peter: "Lord, save me, I perish." It was because of Him that there was no loss of life.

It was not long before the raider had approached close enough so that we could hear an officer at the rail ordering the lifeboats to pull up alongside where the occupants would be taken aboard. The raider, whose name we now discovered to be the Tamesis, also launched several motorboats which cruised about picking up the people in the water. Lastly they removed the passengers and members of the crew that were still aboard the Zamzam, and by seven o'clock everybody was safe on the Tamesis.

It was a miracle of God that though fifty-five shells had been fired, of which nine struck the Zamzam, only nine persons were wounded, and only three of them very seriously, and among the nine not one Protestant missionary or member of his family. According to latest information the three wounded most seriously are recovering.

On the Thursday morning after Easter, we were awakened at dawn by a sound as of a dynamite explosion. We slipped on coats, shoes, lifebelts and hurried into the passageway. It was filled with people, white of face, but not in panic.

Another blast! And then another, so violent that we were left limp and shaking.

A man stood at the deck door in the upper passageway and warned us to remain inside until the shelling ceased. We kneeled there in that dimly lit hall, waiting, praying.

Many ask, "What did you think that morning?" Well I remember! Was there any sin in my heart that had not been confessed to God and washed away in the precious blood of Jesus? I prayed, "Dear Lord Jesus, forgive me, cleanse me, take me home now for Thy dear name's sake."

It is wonderful to know each day that Jesus is my own personal Saviour, but when death was imminent then nothing else made any difference. It was Jesus only.

Suddenly the shooting was over, and the guard said, "Go to your lifeboats." When we reached ours, it had been lowered into the water. The poor Egyptian crew was frenzied with fear. They cut the ropes and rowed away before our boat was nearly filled. Families were separated, and it was heartrending to hear parents beg them to return to the Zamzam. for their children. Mrs. Muir prayed aloud. Trustfully she claimed the promises, "I will never leave thee nor forsake thee, I will hold thee in the hollow of my hand."

Suddenly I looked up and saw the huge sinister raider that had shelled us. An officer called down to us, inviting us to come aboard. We obeyed.

The Rainbow Dawn, continued
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