As stated above, Mr. Nobbs reached home in May and immediately resumed his duties as pastor, the people observing that he seemed to have acquired a somewhat more dignified bearing after having been ordained, although his thorough kindliness of disposition and interest in everything that concerned the people’s welfare, remained unchanged.
The arrival of the Portland was most timely, as the people were suffering from the effects of a severe drought, and were obliged to subsist on whatever they could get, unripe pumpkins forming their principal diet. Liberal supplies from the ship’s stores provided them with sufficient food to last until better times appeared. The admiral then left, taking with him Mr. Holman and the lad that had remained with him. The Portland proceeded on her way to the Gambier Islands, but soon returned, going on to Valparaiso. As she came near enough to Pitcairn Island for the people to communicate by signals, one of distress was hoisted, for the islanders, almost without an exception, were suffering greatly from an attack of influenza. Misinterpreting the signal, the Portland kept on, but was stopped when a boat was seen putting off from the land, manned by a few poor fellows, who were hardly able to manage their oars. On learning the cause of their coming, the admiral and his officers at once went on shore, and the report of the men was confirmed by the sight of the pitiable condition of the islanders.
Everything that kindness could suggest was done for the sufferers, all the visitors doing what they could to relieve the distress around them; nor did they take their final leave of the island until there were visible signs of improvement. So attached had all the islanders become to the people on the ship that much real sorrow was felt at parting; indeed, the leave taking was such that men, as well as women and children, wept freely, as they looked their last on the faces of the kind friends who had done so much for them, and who were not ashamed to mingle their tears with the tears of those they were leaving behind. The blessings of a grateful people followed their departing visitors.
Reuben Nobbs, who had accompanied his father and sister home from Valparaiso, remained with his family for a few months; but, on the arrival of H. M. S. Dido, in the following year, he prepared to return to his duties at Valparaiso on that ship. But his stay was short, and he was soon home again, as consumption had made rapid progress. Kind and willing hands carried him from the place where he was landed, for he was universally beloved, and conveyed him to his home, where he lingered on until March 2, 1855, when he died.
Two accidents, each fatal in its nature, happened shortly after this. The first death was the result of a wound in the foot of a lad, caused by the barbed point of an arrow made of iron. Lockjaw set in, and after the terrible agonies that followed, he died. The other accident was sudden, and death was instantaneous. It was on a Saturday, and most of the men were out in their canoes fishing. A young man named Daniel McCoy, with his wife, went to the northwest side of the island, at a place called the Lookout, to fish among the rocks. Several other young people went in the same direction, but separated themselves into different parties to fish.
Dan and his wife went alone to a spot to reach which they must either swim a narrow passage of water, or climb a few steps, and then descend a steep and very dangerous path among the rocks. They chose the latter, and in making the descent the young man lost his hold, slipped, and fell. The fall was not high, scarcely ten feet; but he fell heavily and broke his back. With one dreadful groan, and a last dying look upon his wife, he immediately expired. Almost distracted, she went in search of their companions, who were at some distance from them, fishing. Grief and horror seemed to lend wings to her speed, as she passed over the rough stones and jagged rocks that for the most part formed her pathway. Only a few minutes sufficed for her to reach a spot where she could see her companions, and make them understand by signs that their assistance was required. The frantic cries and wild gesticulations at once convinced them that something dreadful had occurred, and they instantly started to learn what had happened.
It was soon told, and, while some of the fishing party returned with the bereaved wife to the scene of the awful accident, others hastened home to tell the sad news, and to get assistance to carry the body home. As nearly all the men were out fishing, these had to be summoned by means of signals, and as soon as possible a whaleboat was launched to go on the sad errand. In a short time the scarcely cold, lifeless burden was tenderly placed within, and taken back to the home whence, but a few hours before, he had left in all the strength and pride of young manhood. Scarcely anything noteworthy occurred during the twelve months that followed the death of Daniel McCoy, which took place on the seventh day of April, 1855. Life gradually assumed its ordinary, monotonous round; but every day was bringing nearer the day when everything was to be changed.
