Chapter 5
AFTER they had been twelve weeks at sea, early one December morning Mr. Williams awoke to find Captain Gardiner at his side, telling him that land was in sight. "I arose and went on deck," he writes; "there was Tierra del Fuego, sure enough: its snow-tipped mountains were looming through the vapor of the morning sky." As the "Ocean Queen" was about to cast anchor in Banner Roads, three canoes were observed to be making their way to the ship. While the occupants could still be seen only through the telescope, their shrill cry of "Yammer-schooner" ("Give me") came borne upon the wind. It thrilled the hearts of the missionaries. Yes, they had come to "give" to these poor people, not bread which perisheth, not the bright beads, and painted glass, and scarlet cloth, so dear to the hearts of savages—but the knowledge of the love of God in His unspeakable gift to sinful men, even His own Son, our Saviour Jesus Christ.
The December days passed quickly, and it was time for the "Ocean Queen" to proceed on her way to California. Some of the letters which she took with her, destined in due time to give anxious friends at home their first news of the welfare of the mission party, were dated “Wigwam, Banner Cove, December, 18th, 1850." We might imagine from this that the missionaries had made their home on land, in spite of the unfriendly, or rather too friendly natives; but the letters explained that they had built themselves a wigwam on Garden Island, partly that this rude hut, much like the Indian wigwams which surrounded them, might serve as a shelter for them when they came on shore for a time, but chiefly that they might secure a hiding-place for part of their provisions, which could not be stowed on board the boats. Not even the watchful Fuegians suspected that beneath the earthen floor of that rudely thatched hut, where the white men sat around the blazing wood fire, was a deep pit in which stores of food, which were to last for six months, lay buried.
And now let us take a peep at the home letters, and see in what spirit the writers entered upon their work.
“We have this day," wrote Mr. Williams to his sisters, "taken leave of the ship and all on board, and now, with our boats moored alongside the place fixed upon for our station, in a wigwam of our own building, seated on the earth of our floor, I write to bid you once more farewell. To-night the ship leaves us; a boat will take my letter on board. Farewell. It is beyond' all thought blessed to be given up entirely to the service of Christ.”
In Captain Gardiner's letter we have a graphic touch, which brings his surroundings home to us. "One of the natives," he says, "is looking over my shoulder, wrapped in wonder at seeing me draw such strange marks on my paper." After speaking in his usual bright, hopeful strain concerning the difficulties before them in their task, he adds, "I feel that the Lord is with us, and cannot doubt that He will own and bless the work which He has permitted us to begin. And when we look upon these poor degraded Indians,"— how little the skin-clad savage who was watching his pen guessed the longing that filled the writer's heart at that moment—" and consider that they are, like ourselves, destined to live forever, we yearn over them, and feel willing to spend and be spent in the endeavor to bring to their ears in their own tongue the great truths of the gospel of salvation.”
We said at the beginning that this was a sad story, and sad it is indeed. That it is not a//sadness, is what makes it so wonderful and beautiful that it is not too terrible to tell or to listen to.
Time passed on, and brought no further news of the little party on Garden Island. It had been arranged when they started that, as they took with them only enough provisions to last for six months, at the end of that time the friends of the mission should send them afresh supply from England. The stores were ready, but it was a very difficult matter to send them to such an out-of-the-way spot. No vessel could be found which would go so far out of her course without a sum of money being paid far beyond the power of those at home to furnish; so what seemed the next best thing was done, —the stores were sent as far as the Falkland Islands, and left there until a ship which was said to sail every month to Tierra del Fuego should be ready to start. Twice it was arranged for one of these ships to touch at Garden Island; but the vessel first sent was wrecked, the next disobeyed orders, and so the stores never came to those who waited, waited day by day in patience and in faith.
We may imagine them, as each morning dawned, saying to each other, "Surely the ship will come to-day—it is but to endure a few hours longer!" and then going out to wander along the barren shore, searching for shell-fish; thankful if they could find a little bit of dark green seaweed clinging to a rock, of which they might make broth; even and anon raising their eyes to gaze over the barren waste of waters, if haply there might be a white glimpse of the expected sail. We may think of them, as each sun set, com mending each other once more to the care of God, and closing their eyes in hope of what the morrow might bring.
It was not until the month of October, 1851, that such anxiety was felt as to the welfare of Captain Gardiner and his party, that H.M.S. "Dido" was ordered to stop on her way to the Pacific, and search for them among the islands near Cape Horn. She arrived at the Falklands in January, and there heard news of those of whom she was in search, On October 21st, the captain of a small vessel, which had at last made its way into Banner Cove, had found painted upon the rocks, "Gone to Spaniards' Harbor." Presently he came to the words "Dig below," and found a letter from Captain Gardiner, which explained this inscription. "The Indians being so hostile," it said, "we have gone to Spaniards' Harbor." To this place Captain Smyley turned. As he drew near, he saw a tall-masted boat, with clothes hanging from her rigging, in the little harbor stream. This was the "Speedwell.”
“We have found them," he said to his men; "they must have been having a wash. Look, there are their clothes hanging out to dry.”
With two of his men, he eagerly jumped into a boat, delighted at the thought of having found the missing ones at last.
All around the little bay was lonely and still; no eager cry of welcome came to greet him; and when he reached the boat, within her, covered with a mattress, lay a sailor—dead. By the name upon his frock they knew he must be Pearce, one of the three fishermen who would never more return to their faraway Cornish home. There were wounds upon his head and neck, which made Captain Smyley fear that he must have been killed by the Indians, perhaps already too weak from starvation to resist them. Beside the boat was another body, near an open grave. There were prints of bare feet along the sands, and everywhere books, papers, clothing, and tools were strewed about, as though the savages had been searching for something which they would count precious.
From these papers, which were rough journals kept by the seamen, the Captain discovered that the grave which had been dug near the boat was that of Badcock, one of the Cornish seamen, who had perished from disease, brought on by starvation, nearly six months before. Hope died in his heart as he read on, and found that even at that time their provisions were all but exhausted; "We have now left," wrote Captain Gardiner, "half a duck, about a pound of salt pork, the same of damaged tea, a pint of rice, two cakes of chocolate, and four pints of pease; to which I may add six mice.”
This was written at Midsummer, and it was now January; could there be any hope that those who had then been in such distress were still living? It seemed a forlorn hope indeed, but Captain Smyley determined, as soon as possible, to come back and search every inlet of the Fuegian coast until he had found the "Pioneer" and the rest of the party.
Of the penciled writing upon the half-sheets of paper which he had found on the beach, torn and drenched with sea-water as they were, he was able to read enough to convince him that the body which he had just buried was that of Mr. Williams. He found, too, that it had at one time been Captain Gardiner's intention to try to make his way to the Falklands; but the small boats proved unfit for the stormy voyage, and so the devoted men had waited until their provisions were gone, and they were so broken by sickness and hunger as to be unable to make an effort to save themselves. Driven from place to place by the Indians, they were obliged to live through the stormy nights, when the snow fell constantly, in one little boat—for the "Pioneer" had become a wreck—so laden that there was scarcely room to move: but amidst all their sufferings there was no word of murmuring or of despair; nay, to use the words of one of them, "they were happy beyond expression.”
If this kind-hearted Captain had been able upon that snowy day to explore Spaniards' Harbor a little further, he would have found the body of Captain Gardiner, as it was found by the officers of the "Dido" soon afterward, not two miles away from the place where the others had been found, lying beside the wreck of the "Pioneer." Upon the rocks hard by a hand was painted, and underneath, "Psa. 62:5-85My soul, wait thou only upon God; for my expectation is from him. 6He only is my rock and my salvation: he is my defence; I shall not be moved. 7In God is my salvation and my glory: the rock of my strength, and my refuge, is in God. 8Trust in him at all times; ye people, pour out your heart before him: God is a refuge for us. Selah. (Psalm 62:5‑8)"—those words of David, when he was in trouble, and found how good it was to tarry the Lord's leisure— "My soul, wait thou only upon God, for my expectation is from Him. He only is my Rock and my Salvation; He is my Defense; I shall not be moved.”
Following the direction indicated, the exploring party from the "Dido" found, lying in a cave, the body of Mr. Maidment, and not far off a paper, upon which were these words: "If you will walk along the beach for a mile and a half, you will find us in the other boat, hauled up in the mouth of a river, at the head of the harbor, on the south side. Delay not; we are starving." This was in Captain Gar-diner's handwriting; and presently a little pencil note, written by the same hand, and addressed to Mr. Williams, was found. It was dated September 6th, 1851, and was doubtless intended to tell him of the death of Mr. Maidment. Here and there the writing was quite illegible, but the little note was precious, as containing the last words written by Allan Gardiner: —
“My dear Mr. Williams, — The Lord has seen fit to call home another of our little company. Our dear departed brother left the boat on Tuesday afternoon, and has not since returned. Doubtless he is in the presence of his Redeemer, whom he served faithfully. Yet a little while, and though ... the Almighty to sing the praises throne. I neither hunger nor thirst, though ... days without food ... Maidment's kindness to me ... heaven.
Your affectionate brother in ...
Allan F. Gardiner.”
The Captain of the "Dido" carefully kept this and all other papers which he could find, with Captain Gardiner's Bible.
Then the ship "Dido" sailed away, leaving behind her, as the only memorial of their brief sojourn upon that desolate shore, those lonely graves, where all that was mortal of the servants of Christ who there laid down their lives, faithful unto death, rests until the morning of the resurrection. P.