178 ADVENTURES IN THE SOUTH SEAS 
who had volunteered to accompany him from the ship. What 
befell them at this place we are able to relate in the bishop’s 
own words. 
“At last about noon,” he said, “I reached a very large vil- 
lage near the northwest point of the island. I had been there 
in 1862. After some deliberation I got on the reef, which 
was bare, as it was low water. The boat was pulled off to 
a distance, and I waded across the reef two hundred yards 
or so to the village. Upwards of four hundred natives, all 
armed, crowded about me. But as you know, I am used to 
that, and it seemed natural. 
“T went into a large house and sat down. I knew only a 
few words of their language. After a time I again waded 
back to the edge of the reef, the people thronging round me. 
The boat was backed in to meet me; it was a light, four- 
oared whaleboat. I made a stroke or two and got into the 
boat. Then I saw that the men, swimming about, had fast 
hold of the boat, and it was evident by the expressions of 
their faces that they meant to hold it back. How we man- 
aged to detach their hands I can hardly tell. 3 
“They began shouting at once, being very close. Three 
canoes chased us as we began to get away in the boat, men 
standing up and shouting. The long arrows were whizzing 
on every side, as you may suppose. Pearce was knocked 
over at once, Fisher shot through the left wrist, Edwin in 
the cheek. No one, I suppose, thought there was a chance 
of getting away. They all labored nobly. Neither Edwin 
nor Fisher ever dropped his oars, nor ceased pulling. Dear, 
noble boys, and they were as good and pure as they were 
brave. 
“Thank God, a third Norfolk Islander, Hunt Christian, 
and Joseph Atkin, an excellent lad of twenty, the son of a 
neighboring settler near Auckland, were not touched. Nota 
word was said, only, ‘Pull port oars; pull on steadily!’ Once, 
dear Edwin, with the fragment of an arrow sticking in his 
cheek and the blood streaming down, called out, thinking ever 
