When, with faltering steps, he at length reached the village, it was to find the whole place in a tumult. Every canoe was afloat; a couple of whale-boats were scouring the outer bay; and themalae, usually so deserted on a hot afternoon, was overrun by an excited throng. Had he not, then, heard the news?It was thought that the Helper had been drowned that morning, and the boats were now searching for his body! Behold, here were the unfortunate’s clothes, found even as they were, and by order of the chief left untouched for the priest himself to see; here, too, was old Lefao, the shrill mother of Pa’a, who had seen the young man go in to his death, and had heard his sinking cry. “Lefao, make for his Excellency a repetition of that mournful sound, and show how he cast up his arms as thou watchedst him from the beach.” The old impostor was enjoying all the importance of having such a tale to tell, and the father winced under a pang of shame as he listened to this unexpected confederate.
It was afterwards thought that the sad affair must have unhinged Father Studby’s mind, for he subsequently began to show symptoms of serious mental disturbance, which culminated a few months later in his tragic suicide. A marble pillar, the outcome of a public subscription in Sydney, was raised to the memory of these two martyrs of the cross. In faded letters, beneath their crumbling names, one can still spell out the lies:
IN LIFE THEY WERE TOGETHER;IN DEATH THEY WERE NOT DIVIDED.