s/o George Hunn Nobbs (1799-1884) & Sarah Christian (1810-1899)
d., aged 21, at Te Mutu Island, Solomon Islands, killed by natives' arrows. Edwin was a missionary with Bishop Patteson's Melanesian Mission in Santa Cruz Island.
* * * * *
The History of the Melanesian Mission, by E. S. Armstrong (1900), Chapter IV: Deaths of Edwin Nobbs & Fisher Young:
After an inspection of Curtis Island, they passed on to Santa Cruz, a place which for the last three years the Bishop had been most desirous of visiting. His enthusiastic reception there had ever been full in his mind; and he did not believe that the islanders merited their evil reputation for cunning and treachery. He had with him in the boat three Norfolk Islanders — Edwin Nobbs, Fisher Young, and Hunt Christian; besides two Englishmen, Atkin and Pearce. All these were young men of great promise. Edwin Nobbs was the son of the clergyman at Norfolk Island — a fine tall fellow of about twenty-one, who was expected later on to succeed his father in his work. Fisher Young was some years younger, about seventeen, and had peculiarly endeared himself to his Bishop: he was deeply conscientious, truthful, and unselfish. Years before Mrs. Selwyn had singled him out as a boy remarkable in every way. He had twice been laid low by sickness, at Kohimarama and at Mota; and his parents and all his family had returned to Pitcairn, leaving him thus entirely to the Bishop and his work.
A successful landing was accomplished at two places; at the third there was a great crowd. The Bishop waded over the partially uncovered broad reef, and went into a house where he sat down for some time, after which he returned through the crowd to his boat. Some of the men swimming held fast to the boat, and the Bishop had some difficulty in detaching their hands. There were crowds, some three or four hundred men, on the reef; and when the boat had got away some fifteen yards they began to shoot at it. He held the unshipped rudder up, hoping that as the boat was end on he might be able to shield it from any arrows that came straight; but the reef and sea were full of wild dark men, the long arrows whizzing through the air like a storm, through which the four brave lads steadfastly pulled. A moment the Bishop turned round and just saved the boat from grounding in a small bay; but, alas, that moment showed him Pearce lying across the thwarts, the long shaft of an arrow in his chest, and Edwin Nobbs with another, as it seemed, in his left eye, while around and about they flew from all quarters. Suddenly Fisher Young, who was pulling stroke oar, gave a faint scream. He was shot through the left wrist; but not a word was spoken beyond the Bishop's own: "Pull! Port oars, pull on steadily." And a little later Edwin, thinking even then more of the Bishop than himself, called: "Look out, sir! Close to you." Fisher and Edwin still pulled on; Atkin had taken Pearce's oar, and Hunt took the fourth. In about twenty minutes they had reached the vessel, the canoes chasing them all the way, but they paddled quickly off on seeing the wounded. They dreaded the vengeance which would have been a duty amongst themselves.
On board came the terrible surgery. The Bishop drew the arrow out of Pearce's chest; it had run in under the skin slantwise five inches and three-quarters, entering in the middle of the chest, and proceeding in the direction of the right breast. There was no effusion of blood, and he was perfectly composed, giving directions and messages in case of his death; but he breathed with great difficulty, and groaned, making a kind of hollow sound. After laying on poultice and bandage, the Bishop proceeded to Fisher, whose wrist was shot clean through, and the upper part of the arrow broken off. He was obliged to cut deep down to extract the wooden arrowhead, and was glad of the profuse bleeding thus occasioned. He at length succeeded in catching a firm hold of the point on the lower side of the wrist, and pulled it out. The lad trembled and shivered under the great pain; he was given brandy and poulticed. Edwin's was but a flesh wound, and Mr. Atkin had already extracted the splinter from his cheek. It was syringed, and the flow of blood was copious. The arrows were neither bone-headed or poisoned, but still, after a wound, tetanus was to be dreaded with Norfolk Islanders. The patience and composure of all were perfect and unbroken.
For a day or two all seemed well. The poultices were continued and light food given. On the Wednesday Fisher had a spasm, but it passed off, and still all seemed well till the Saturday, when he said, "I can't tell what makes my jaws feel so stiff."
Then, indeed, the Bishop's heart sank within him, and he prayed earnestly, earnestly, to God. He told the dear lad of his danger, praying beside him night and day. Soon the jaws were tight locked, and then intense grew the pain, the agony; the whole body rigid like a bar of iron; and yet, in his very agonies, in his fearful spasms, the dear lad thanked God and pressed his Bishop's hand as he prayed and comforted him with holy words. He never for one moment lost his hold on God, and his childlike unhesitating trust in His love and fatherly care supported him through all.
"Tell my father," he said, "that I was in the path of duty, he will be so glad. Poor Santa Cruz people!" And the very last night, his whole body being rigid as a bar of iron, he said faintly, "Kiss me, Bishop." He wandered much, but even then all his words were of things pure and holy. At 4 A.M., he started as if from a trance; his eyes met the Bishop's, and gradually the consciousness returned to them. "They never stop singing there, sir, do they?" he said, for his thoughts were with the angels in heaven. After a short time came the last terrible struggle, preceded by some dreadful spasms. They fanned him and bathed his head occasionally, getting a few drops of weak brandy, or wine and water, down. With his whole heart the Bishop thanked God, when at length his body fell back as though without joint, on his arm. Long drawn sighs, followed by a still sadder contraction of feature, succeeded, and, as the commendatory prayer ascended to heaven over him, he passed away.
The same day they anchored in Port Patteson, and there the Bishop buried him in a quiet spot where, with the Primate, he had landed years before.
Edwin's jaws were some days later in stiffening, and even then the symptoms were so modified that for nine or ten days there was much hope that he, a strong handsome man of six feet in height, the pride of Norfolk Island, might be carried through it. But, alas!, on September the 2nd, when the Bishop administered the Holy Communion to him and to Pearce, he could only swallow the tiniest crumb. He, too, through all his delirium, spoke but of things holy and pure, and was almost continually in prayer. On the 5th came the death struggle, which was so terrible that three could scarcely hold him. Then he, like Fisher, sank back on the Bishop's loving arm, and passed away as his soul was being commended to God. He was buried at sea.
d., aged 21, at Te Mutu Island, Solomon Islands, killed by natives' arrows. Edwin was a missionary with Bishop Patteson's Melanesian Mission in Santa Cruz Island.
* * * * *
The History of the Melanesian Mission, by E. S. Armstrong (1900), Chapter IV: Deaths of Edwin Nobbs & Fisher Young:
After an inspection of Curtis Island, they passed on to Santa Cruz, a place which for the last three years the Bishop had been most desirous of visiting. His enthusiastic reception there had ever been full in his mind; and he did not believe that the islanders merited their evil reputation for cunning and treachery. He had with him in the boat three Norfolk Islanders — Edwin Nobbs, Fisher Young, and Hunt Christian; besides two Englishmen, Atkin and Pearce. All these were young men of great promise. Edwin Nobbs was the son of the clergyman at Norfolk Island — a fine tall fellow of about twenty-one, who was expected later on to succeed his father in his work. Fisher Young was some years younger, about seventeen, and had peculiarly endeared himself to his Bishop: he was deeply conscientious, truthful, and unselfish. Years before Mrs. Selwyn had singled him out as a boy remarkable in every way. He had twice been laid low by sickness, at Kohimarama and at Mota; and his parents and all his family had returned to Pitcairn, leaving him thus entirely to the Bishop and his work.
A successful landing was accomplished at two places; at the third there was a great crowd. The Bishop waded over the partially uncovered broad reef, and went into a house where he sat down for some time, after which he returned through the crowd to his boat. Some of the men swimming held fast to the boat, and the Bishop had some difficulty in detaching their hands. There were crowds, some three or four hundred men, on the reef; and when the boat had got away some fifteen yards they began to shoot at it. He held the unshipped rudder up, hoping that as the boat was end on he might be able to shield it from any arrows that came straight; but the reef and sea were full of wild dark men, the long arrows whizzing through the air like a storm, through which the four brave lads steadfastly pulled. A moment the Bishop turned round and just saved the boat from grounding in a small bay; but, alas, that moment showed him Pearce lying across the thwarts, the long shaft of an arrow in his chest, and Edwin Nobbs with another, as it seemed, in his left eye, while around and about they flew from all quarters. Suddenly Fisher Young, who was pulling stroke oar, gave a faint scream. He was shot through the left wrist; but not a word was spoken beyond the Bishop's own: "Pull! Port oars, pull on steadily." And a little later Edwin, thinking even then more of the Bishop than himself, called: "Look out, sir! Close to you." Fisher and Edwin still pulled on; Atkin had taken Pearce's oar, and Hunt took the fourth. In about twenty minutes they had reached the vessel, the canoes chasing them all the way, but they paddled quickly off on seeing the wounded. They dreaded the vengeance which would have been a duty amongst themselves.
On board came the terrible surgery. The Bishop drew the arrow out of Pearce's chest; it had run in under the skin slantwise five inches and three-quarters, entering in the middle of the chest, and proceeding in the direction of the right breast. There was no effusion of blood, and he was perfectly composed, giving directions and messages in case of his death; but he breathed with great difficulty, and groaned, making a kind of hollow sound. After laying on poultice and bandage, the Bishop proceeded to Fisher, whose wrist was shot clean through, and the upper part of the arrow broken off. He was obliged to cut deep down to extract the wooden arrowhead, and was glad of the profuse bleeding thus occasioned. He at length succeeded in catching a firm hold of the point on the lower side of the wrist, and pulled it out. The lad trembled and shivered under the great pain; he was given brandy and poulticed. Edwin's was but a flesh wound, and Mr. Atkin had already extracted the splinter from his cheek. It was syringed, and the flow of blood was copious. The arrows were neither bone-headed or poisoned, but still, after a wound, tetanus was to be dreaded with Norfolk Islanders. The patience and composure of all were perfect and unbroken.
For a day or two all seemed well. The poultices were continued and light food given. On the Wednesday Fisher had a spasm, but it passed off, and still all seemed well till the Saturday, when he said, "I can't tell what makes my jaws feel so stiff."
Then, indeed, the Bishop's heart sank within him, and he prayed earnestly, earnestly, to God. He told the dear lad of his danger, praying beside him night and day. Soon the jaws were tight locked, and then intense grew the pain, the agony; the whole body rigid like a bar of iron; and yet, in his very agonies, in his fearful spasms, the dear lad thanked God and pressed his Bishop's hand as he prayed and comforted him with holy words. He never for one moment lost his hold on God, and his childlike unhesitating trust in His love and fatherly care supported him through all.
"Tell my father," he said, "that I was in the path of duty, he will be so glad. Poor Santa Cruz people!" And the very last night, his whole body being rigid as a bar of iron, he said faintly, "Kiss me, Bishop." He wandered much, but even then all his words were of things pure and holy. At 4 A.M., he started as if from a trance; his eyes met the Bishop's, and gradually the consciousness returned to them. "They never stop singing there, sir, do they?" he said, for his thoughts were with the angels in heaven. After a short time came the last terrible struggle, preceded by some dreadful spasms. They fanned him and bathed his head occasionally, getting a few drops of weak brandy, or wine and water, down. With his whole heart the Bishop thanked God, when at length his body fell back as though without joint, on his arm. Long drawn sighs, followed by a still sadder contraction of feature, succeeded, and, as the commendatory prayer ascended to heaven over him, he passed away.
The same day they anchored in Port Patteson, and there the Bishop buried him in a quiet spot where, with the Primate, he had landed years before.
Edwin's jaws were some days later in stiffening, and even then the symptoms were so modified that for nine or ten days there was much hope that he, a strong handsome man of six feet in height, the pride of Norfolk Island, might be carried through it. But, alas!, on September the 2nd, when the Bishop administered the Holy Communion to him and to Pearce, he could only swallow the tiniest crumb. He, too, through all his delirium, spoke but of things holy and pure, and was almost continually in prayer. On the 5th came the death struggle, which was so terrible that three could scarcely hold him. Then he, like Fisher, sank back on the Bishop's loving arm, and passed away as his soul was being commended to God. He was buried at sea.
s/o George Hunn Nobbs (1799-1884) & Sarah Christian (1810-1899)
d., aged 21, at Te Mutu Island, Solomon Islands, killed by natives' arrows. Edwin was a missionary with Bishop Patteson's Melanesian Mission in Santa Cruz Island.
* * * * *
The History of the Melanesian Mission, by E. S. Armstrong (1900), Chapter IV: Deaths of Edwin Nobbs & Fisher Young:
After an inspection of Curtis Island, they passed on to Santa Cruz, a place which for the last three years the Bishop had been most desirous of visiting. His enthusiastic reception there had ever been full in his mind; and he did not believe that the islanders merited their evil reputation for cunning and treachery. He had with him in the boat three Norfolk Islanders — Edwin Nobbs, Fisher Young, and Hunt Christian; besides two Englishmen, Atkin and Pearce. All these were young men of great promise. Edwin Nobbs was the son of the clergyman at Norfolk Island — a fine tall fellow of about twenty-one, who was expected later on to succeed his father in his work. Fisher Young was some years younger, about seventeen, and had peculiarly endeared himself to his Bishop: he was deeply conscientious, truthful, and unselfish. Years before Mrs. Selwyn had singled him out as a boy remarkable in every way. He had twice been laid low by sickness, at Kohimarama and at Mota; and his parents and all his family had returned to Pitcairn, leaving him thus entirely to the Bishop and his work.
A successful landing was accomplished at two places; at the third there was a great crowd. The Bishop waded over the partially uncovered broad reef, and went into a house where he sat down for some time, after which he returned through the crowd to his boat. Some of the men swimming held fast to the boat, and the Bishop had some difficulty in detaching their hands. There were crowds, some three or four hundred men, on the reef; and when the boat had got away some fifteen yards they began to shoot at it. He held the unshipped rudder up, hoping that as the boat was end on he might be able to shield it from any arrows that came straight; but the reef and sea were full of wild dark men, the long arrows whizzing through the air like a storm, through which the four brave lads steadfastly pulled. A moment the Bishop turned round and just saved the boat from grounding in a small bay; but, alas, that moment showed him Pearce lying across the thwarts, the long shaft of an arrow in his chest, and Edwin Nobbs with another, as it seemed, in his left eye, while around and about they flew from all quarters. Suddenly Fisher Young, who was pulling stroke oar, gave a faint scream. He was shot through the left wrist; but not a word was spoken beyond the Bishop's own: "Pull! Port oars, pull on steadily." And a little later Edwin, thinking even then more of the Bishop than himself, called: "Look out, sir! Close to you." Fisher and Edwin still pulled on; Atkin had taken Pearce's oar, and Hunt took the fourth. In about twenty minutes they had reached the vessel, the canoes chasing them all the way, but they paddled quickly off on seeing the wounded. They dreaded the vengeance which would have been a duty amongst themselves.
On board came the terrible surgery. The Bishop drew the arrow out of Pearce's chest; it had run in under the skin slantwise five inches and three-quarters, entering in the middle of the chest, and proceeding in the direction of the right breast. There was no effusion of blood, and he was perfectly composed, giving directions and messages in case of his death; but he breathed with great difficulty, and groaned, making a kind of hollow sound. After laying on poultice and bandage, the Bishop proceeded to Fisher, whose wrist was shot clean through, and the upper part of the arrow broken off. He was obliged to cut deep down to extract the wooden arrowhead, and was glad of the profuse bleeding thus occasioned. He at length succeeded in catching a firm hold of the point on the lower side of the wrist, and pulled it out. The lad trembled and shivered under the great pain; he was given brandy and poulticed. Edwin's was but a flesh wound, and Mr. Atkin had already extracted the splinter from his cheek. It was syringed, and the flow of blood was copious. The arrows were neither bone-headed or poisoned, but still, after a wound, tetanus was to be dreaded with Norfolk Islanders. The patience and composure of all were perfect and unbroken.
For a day or two all seemed well. The poultices were continued and light food given. On the Wednesday Fisher had a spasm, but it passed off, and still all seemed well till the Saturday, when he said, "I can't tell what makes my jaws feel so stiff."
Then, indeed, the Bishop's heart sank within him, and he prayed earnestly, earnestly, to God. He told the dear lad of his danger, praying beside him night and day. Soon the jaws were tight locked, and then intense grew the pain, the agony; the whole body rigid like a bar of iron; and yet, in his very agonies, in his fearful spasms, the dear lad thanked God and pressed his Bishop's hand as he prayed and comforted him with holy words. He never for one moment lost his hold on God, and his childlike unhesitating trust in His love and fatherly care supported him through all.
"Tell my father," he said, "that I was in the path of duty, he will be so glad. Poor Santa Cruz people!" And the very last night, his whole body being rigid as a bar of iron, he said faintly, "Kiss me, Bishop." He wandered much, but even then all his words were of things pure and holy. At 4 A.M., he started as if from a trance; his eyes met the Bishop's, and gradually the consciousness returned to them. "They never stop singing there, sir, do they?" he said, for his thoughts were with the angels in heaven. After a short time came the last terrible struggle, preceded by some dreadful spasms. They fanned him and bathed his head occasionally, getting a few drops of weak brandy, or wine and water, down. With his whole heart the Bishop thanked God, when at length his body fell back as though without joint, on his arm. Long drawn sighs, followed by a still sadder contraction of feature, succeeded, and, as the commendatory prayer ascended to heaven over him, he passed away.
The same day they anchored in Port Patteson, and there the Bishop buried him in a quiet spot where, with the Primate, he had landed years before.
Edwin's jaws were some days later in stiffening, and even then the symptoms were so modified that for nine or ten days there was much hope that he, a strong handsome man of six feet in height, the pride of Norfolk Island, might be carried through it. But, alas!, on September the 2nd, when the Bishop administered the Holy Communion to him and to Pearce, he could only swallow the tiniest crumb. He, too, through all his delirium, spoke but of things holy and pure, and was almost continually in prayer. On the 5th came the death struggle, which was so terrible that three could scarcely hold him. Then he, like Fisher, sank back on the Bishop's loving arm, and passed away as his soul was being commended to God. He was buried at sea.
d., aged 21, at Te Mutu Island, Solomon Islands, killed by natives' arrows. Edwin was a missionary with Bishop Patteson's Melanesian Mission in Santa Cruz Island.
* * * * *
The History of the Melanesian Mission, by E. S. Armstrong (1900), Chapter IV: Deaths of Edwin Nobbs & Fisher Young:
After an inspection of Curtis Island, they passed on to Santa Cruz, a place which for the last three years the Bishop had been most desirous of visiting. His enthusiastic reception there had ever been full in his mind; and he did not believe that the islanders merited their evil reputation for cunning and treachery. He had with him in the boat three Norfolk Islanders — Edwin Nobbs, Fisher Young, and Hunt Christian; besides two Englishmen, Atkin and Pearce. All these were young men of great promise. Edwin Nobbs was the son of the clergyman at Norfolk Island — a fine tall fellow of about twenty-one, who was expected later on to succeed his father in his work. Fisher Young was some years younger, about seventeen, and had peculiarly endeared himself to his Bishop: he was deeply conscientious, truthful, and unselfish. Years before Mrs. Selwyn had singled him out as a boy remarkable in every way. He had twice been laid low by sickness, at Kohimarama and at Mota; and his parents and all his family had returned to Pitcairn, leaving him thus entirely to the Bishop and his work.
A successful landing was accomplished at two places; at the third there was a great crowd. The Bishop waded over the partially uncovered broad reef, and went into a house where he sat down for some time, after which he returned through the crowd to his boat. Some of the men swimming held fast to the boat, and the Bishop had some difficulty in detaching their hands. There were crowds, some three or four hundred men, on the reef; and when the boat had got away some fifteen yards they began to shoot at it. He held the unshipped rudder up, hoping that as the boat was end on he might be able to shield it from any arrows that came straight; but the reef and sea were full of wild dark men, the long arrows whizzing through the air like a storm, through which the four brave lads steadfastly pulled. A moment the Bishop turned round and just saved the boat from grounding in a small bay; but, alas, that moment showed him Pearce lying across the thwarts, the long shaft of an arrow in his chest, and Edwin Nobbs with another, as it seemed, in his left eye, while around and about they flew from all quarters. Suddenly Fisher Young, who was pulling stroke oar, gave a faint scream. He was shot through the left wrist; but not a word was spoken beyond the Bishop's own: "Pull! Port oars, pull on steadily." And a little later Edwin, thinking even then more of the Bishop than himself, called: "Look out, sir! Close to you." Fisher and Edwin still pulled on; Atkin had taken Pearce's oar, and Hunt took the fourth. In about twenty minutes they had reached the vessel, the canoes chasing them all the way, but they paddled quickly off on seeing the wounded. They dreaded the vengeance which would have been a duty amongst themselves.
On board came the terrible surgery. The Bishop drew the arrow out of Pearce's chest; it had run in under the skin slantwise five inches and three-quarters, entering in the middle of the chest, and proceeding in the direction of the right breast. There was no effusion of blood, and he was perfectly composed, giving directions and messages in case of his death; but he breathed with great difficulty, and groaned, making a kind of hollow sound. After laying on poultice and bandage, the Bishop proceeded to Fisher, whose wrist was shot clean through, and the upper part of the arrow broken off. He was obliged to cut deep down to extract the wooden arrowhead, and was glad of the profuse bleeding thus occasioned. He at length succeeded in catching a firm hold of the point on the lower side of the wrist, and pulled it out. The lad trembled and shivered under the great pain; he was given brandy and poulticed. Edwin's was but a flesh wound, and Mr. Atkin had already extracted the splinter from his cheek. It was syringed, and the flow of blood was copious. The arrows were neither bone-headed or poisoned, but still, after a wound, tetanus was to be dreaded with Norfolk Islanders. The patience and composure of all were perfect and unbroken.
For a day or two all seemed well. The poultices were continued and light food given. On the Wednesday Fisher had a spasm, but it passed off, and still all seemed well till the Saturday, when he said, "I can't tell what makes my jaws feel so stiff."
Then, indeed, the Bishop's heart sank within him, and he prayed earnestly, earnestly, to God. He told the dear lad of his danger, praying beside him night and day. Soon the jaws were tight locked, and then intense grew the pain, the agony; the whole body rigid like a bar of iron; and yet, in his very agonies, in his fearful spasms, the dear lad thanked God and pressed his Bishop's hand as he prayed and comforted him with holy words. He never for one moment lost his hold on God, and his childlike unhesitating trust in His love and fatherly care supported him through all.
"Tell my father," he said, "that I was in the path of duty, he will be so glad. Poor Santa Cruz people!" And the very last night, his whole body being rigid as a bar of iron, he said faintly, "Kiss me, Bishop." He wandered much, but even then all his words were of things pure and holy. At 4 A.M., he started as if from a trance; his eyes met the Bishop's, and gradually the consciousness returned to them. "They never stop singing there, sir, do they?" he said, for his thoughts were with the angels in heaven. After a short time came the last terrible struggle, preceded by some dreadful spasms. They fanned him and bathed his head occasionally, getting a few drops of weak brandy, or wine and water, down. With his whole heart the Bishop thanked God, when at length his body fell back as though without joint, on his arm. Long drawn sighs, followed by a still sadder contraction of feature, succeeded, and, as the commendatory prayer ascended to heaven over him, he passed away.
The same day they anchored in Port Patteson, and there the Bishop buried him in a quiet spot where, with the Primate, he had landed years before.
Edwin's jaws were some days later in stiffening, and even then the symptoms were so modified that for nine or ten days there was much hope that he, a strong handsome man of six feet in height, the pride of Norfolk Island, might be carried through it. But, alas!, on September the 2nd, when the Bishop administered the Holy Communion to him and to Pearce, he could only swallow the tiniest crumb. He, too, through all his delirium, spoke but of things holy and pure, and was almost continually in prayer. On the 5th came the death struggle, which was so terrible that three could scarcely hold him. Then he, like Fisher, sank back on the Bishop's loving arm, and passed away as his soul was being commended to God. He was buried at sea.
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