of November 4 (1775) nearly eight hundred naked savages,
after dusk, stealthily advanced and surrounded the Mission, where the
inmates slept unguarded, so certain were they of their security. Part of
the force went on to the presidio, where, in the absence of the
commander, the laxity of discipline was such that no sentinel was
on guard.

An hour after midnight the whole of the Mission was surrounded. The
quarters of the Christianized Indians were invaded, and they were
threatened with instantaneous death if they gave the alarm. The church
was broken into, and all the vestments and sacred vessels stolen. Then
the buildings were fired. Not until then did the inmates know of their
danger. Imagine their horror, to wake up and find the building on fire
and themselves surrounded by what, in their dazed condition, seemed
countless hordes of savages, all howling, yelling, brandishing
war-clubs, firing their arrows,--the scene made doubly fearful by the
red glare of the flames.

In the guard-house were four soldiers,--the whole of the Mission
garrison; in the house the two priests, Jayme and Fuster, two little
boys, and three men (a blacksmith and two carpenters). Father Fuster,
the two boys, and the blacksmith sought to reach the guard-house, but
the latter was slain on the way. The Indians broke into the room where
the carpenters were, and one of them was so cruelly wounded that he died
the next day.

Father Jayme, with the shining light of martyrdom in his eyes, and the
fierce joy of fearlessness in his heart, not only refused to seek
shelter, but deliberately walked towards the howling band, lifting his
hands in blessing with his usual salutation: "Love God, my children!"
Scarcely were the words uttered when the wild band fell upon him,
shrieking and crying, tearing off his habit, thrusting him rudely along,
hurting him with stones, sticks, and battle-axe, until at the edge of
the creek his now naked body was bruised until life was extinct, and
then the corpse filled with arrows.

Three soldiers and the carpenter, with Father Fuster and two boys
loading the guns for them, fought off the invaders from a near-by
kitchen, and at dawn the attacking force gathered up their dead and
wounded and retired to the mountains.

No sooner were they gone than the neophytes came rushing up to see if
any were left alive. Their delight at finding Father Fuster was
immediately changed into sadness as others brought in the awfully
muti