Three months after leaving Liverpool, The Ocean Queen arrived at Picton Island, and the mission party disembarked, erecting their tents at Banner Cove. Remembering their former experiences with the natives, Gardiner took the precaution to have a strong fence made of the trunks of trees placed around the encampment. This, however, was but a poor protection; for, no sooner had the news of their arrival spread over the island, than they were visited by crowds of Fuegians, who rudely forced their way into the enclosure, and began to steal whatever they could find. This was too serious to be tolerated, especially as their stock of provisions was small, so they embarked in the Pioneer and Speedwell, and put out to sea. But the storms that beat around Cape Horn proved too strong for the little craft. The Pioneer was driven on a rock, and suffered much damage, and, while they were endeavoring to get it repaired, a crowd of hostile natives appeared. They could not flee, and, although they had guns and powder with them, which they intended to use in hunting for game, they determined, as ambassadors of the Prince of Peace, not to use them even in their own defense. Captain Gardiner called upon his companions to join him in prayer. They knelt together on the shore. The natives, many of whom were armed, stood looking on in silence, without saying a word, or offering to molest them, while the tried but trustful servants of God poured forth their hearts to Him in earnest prayer, during which the Speedwell, which had been parted from them and driven out to sea by the storm, appeared. Their prayer was then turned to praise, and, while the little band stood on that lonely shore singing their song of thanksgiving, the heathen stood silently by, looking on in wonder. Trials of various kinds followed. A high tide invaded the cave where some of their stores were hidden, and carried out a number of valuables to sea, including Gardiner’s Bible, his journal, and most of his clothing. This was followed by the sickness of several of the party, and, worst of all, their stock of provisions began to fail. A vessel sent with provisions was wrecked on the voyage; a second passed without leaving her cargo, so the sick men had nothing to eat but some fish of a very indifferent kind, which they purchased from the natives. Day after day they watched for the expected ship in vain. Then they buried three bottles in the earth, containing notes telling of their condition, and painted on the rocks in rude white letters, so as to attract the attention of any passing vessel— “Dig below. Go to Spaniard Harbor, March, 1851.” What followed, can only be gathered from the journals of Gardiner and Williams, for, of that little band of missionary pioneers who, constrained by the love of Christ, had given up friends and home, with all that earth holds dear, not one survived to tell the tale.
The first to lay down his life was Bryant, the brave Cornish sailor. As life was ebbing away, he sang in a clear voice—
“Arise, my soul arise, shake off thy guilty fears,
The bleeding Sacrifice on thy behalf appears,
Before the throne the Surety stands,
My name is written on His hands.”
They buried him close by the boat. Six weeks later, Erwin also died. Poor Bryant was found lying dead on the shore, with a peaceful smile on his face. Maidment prepared the grave, and, after laying the remains of his two comrades to rest, he returned to die. Gardiner, unable to rise, wrote farewell letters to his wife and daughter, breathing the spirit of true faith and resignation. “He has kept me in perfect peace.... My care is cast upon God, and I am only waiting His time and His good pleasure. I commend my body and soul into His care and keeping, and earnestly pray that He will mercifully take my dear wife and children under the shadow of His wings.” Two days later is his last entry. “Great and marvelous are the loving-kindnesses of my gracious God unto me. He has preserved me hitherto, although without bodily food, yet without any feeling of hunger or thirst.” Here the story ends. Then all was silent on the shores of Fuego, where the unburied martyrs lay.
Meanwhile, a boat was on its way, and reached the desolate shore six weeks after Allen Gardiner and the last of his brave companions had gone to heaven. Guided by the painting on the rocks, they sailed to Spaniard Harbor. There they found in a boat the lifeless body of one of the party; close by, another, buried in a shallow grave. The sight unnerved the sailors. They returned with all speed to Monte Video to tell the sad news.
Another vessel, H.M. Dido, had reached Banner Cove. Cannons were fired from the ship, but not a sound of life responded from the desolate shore. The captain and part of the crew landed, and, searching along the shore, there found the lifeless body of Gardiner, fallen by the side of the boat, on the shore. Maidment was found in the cave, also the journal of Dr. Williams, while, strewn on the beach, were tools, books, and loose leaves, on which were written, in the clear handwriting of Gardiner, the records of these closing days. When the captain and crew looked upon the remains of the noble men who had left all for Christ, they wept like children. Then tenderly and reverently, they bore the bodies to a grave, while the ship’s flags floated at half-mast, and one of the officers read, in a voice choking with emotion— “They shall hunger no more, neither thirst anymore.”
Slowly, the sailors returned to their ship, taking a last look at the spot where the precious dust of the noble martyrs lies, on that desolate shore, awaiting the first resurrection.
When the news reached England it caused a thrill of horror to pass through the land, and, among the Lord’s own people, there was much searching of heart.
The following year, a vessel, named the Allen Gardiner, sailed from Bristol, with a party of earnest workers, to carry the Gospel to Fuego, and, some time after, young Allen W. Gardiner, the martyr’s only son, joined the party. It must have been a touching sight for him to stand by the lone grave, and, near it, to read in his father’s own handwriting, on the rocks, the text, “My soul, wait thou only upon God.” The precious lives thus laid down for the Gospel were not sacrificed in vain. Others have followed up the opening thus made, and on that day when the Lord makes up His jewels, some will be found in that glorious company from the shores of dark Fuego, saved by grace alone.