There was indeed serious cause for the anger of the natives.  One of them related how he had been out to a vessel with his companions, and a white man had come down into the canoe and presently upset it, seizing him by the belt.  Happily this broke, and he swam under the side of the canoe and finally got on shore, but the other three were killed—­their heads were cut off and taken on board, and their bodies thrown to the sharks.  The assailants were men-stealers, who killed ruthlessly that they might present heads to the chiefs.

Five natives from the same island were also killed or carried off, and thus when the bishop visited them they were in a state of sullen wrath.

On the 20th of September, 1871, Bishop Patteson came to Nukapu.  The island is difficult of approach at low water, and the little ship, The Southern Cross, could not get close in.  So the bishop went off to the shore in a boat and got into one of the canoes, leaving his four pupils to await his return.  They saw him land, and he was then lost to sight.

About half an hour later the natives in the canoes, without the least warning, began shooting their arrows at the poor fellows in the boat, and ere it could be taken out of bowshot one of them was pierced with six arrows, and two of the others were also wounded.

They were full of fears about the bishop, and, notwithstanding the danger, determined to seek for him.  They had no arms except one pistol which the mate possessed.

As they made their way towards shore a canoe drifted out, and lying in it, wrapped in a native mat, was the body of Bishop Patteson.

A sweet calm smile was on his face, a palm leaf was fastened upon his breast, and upon the body were five wounds—­the exact number of the natives who had been kidnapped or killed.

So the good bishop died for the misdeeds of others.  The natives but followed their traditions in exacting blood for blood, and their poor dark minds could not distinguish between the good and the bad white men.

Two of those who were with the bishop in the boat, and had received arrow wounds, died within a week, after much suffering.

One of them, Mr. Atkins, writing of the occurrence on the day of the martyrdom, says:—­

“It would be selfish to wish him back.  He has gone to his rest, dying, as he lived, in the Master’s service.  It seems a shocking way to die; but I can say from experience it is far more to hear of than to suffer.  There is no sign of fear or pain on his face, just the look that he used to have when asleep, patient and a little wearied.  What his mission will do without him, God only knows who has taken him away.”

Three days after, in celebrating the Holy Communion, Mr. Atkins stumbled in his speech, and then he and his companions knew the poison in his system was working.  “Stephen and I,” he said, “are going to follow the bishop.  Don’t grieve about it ...  It is very good because God would have it so, because He only looks after us, and He understands about us, and now He wills to take us too and it is well.”