not least of Mataafa. To the benefit of all, I say; for I do not

think the Germans were that evening in a posture to resist; the
liquor-cellars of the firm must have fallen into the power of the

insurgents; and I will repeat my formula that a mob is a mob, a
drunken mob is a drunken mob, and a drunken mob with weapons in its

hands is a drunken mob with weapons in its hands, all the world
over.

In the opinion of some, then, the town had narrowly escaped
destruction, or at least the miseries of a drunken sack. To the

knowledge of all, the air of the neutral territory had once more
whistled with bullets. And it was clear the incident must have

diplomatic consequences. Leary and Pelly both protested to Fritze.
Leary announced he should report the affair to his government "as a

gross violation of the principles of international law, and as a
breach of the neutrality." "I positively decline the protest,"

replied Fritze, "and cannot fail to express my astonishment at the
tone of your last letter." This was trenchant. It may be said,

however, that Leary was already out of court; that, after the night
signals and the Scanlon incident, and so many other acts of

practical if humoroushostility, his position as a neutral was no
better than a doubtful jest. The case with Pelly was entirely

different; and with Pelly, Fritze was less well inspired. In his
first note, he was on the old guard; announced that he had acted on

the requisition of his consul, who was alone responsible on "the
legal side"; and declined accordingly to discuss "whether the lives

of British subjects were in danger, and to what extent armed
intervention was necessary." Pelly replied judiciously that he had

nothing to do with political matters, being only responsible for
the safety of Her Majesty's ships under his command and for the

lives and property of British subjects; that he had considered his
protest a purely naval one; and as the matter stood could only

report the case to the admiral on the station. "I have the
honour," replied Fritze, "to refuse to entertain the protest

concerning the safety of Her Britannic Majesty's ship LIZARD as
being a naval matter. The safety of Her Majesty's ship LIZARD was

never in the least endangered. This was guaranteed by the
disciplined fire of a few shots under the direction of two

officers." This offensive note, in view of Fritze's careful and
honest bearing among so many other complications, may be attributed

to some misunderstanding. His small knowledge of English perhaps
failed him. But I cannot pass it by without remarking how far too

much it is the custom of German officials to fall into this style.
It may be witty, I am sure it is not wise. It may be sometimes

necessary to offend for a definite object, it can never be
diplomatic to offend gratuitously.

Becker was more explicit, although scarce less curt. And his
defence may be divided into two statements: first, that the

TAUMUALUA was proceeding to land with a hostile purpose on Mulinuu;
second, that the shots complained of were fired by the Samoans.

The second may be dismissed with a laugh. Human nature has laws.
And no men hitherto discovered, on being suddenly challenged from

the sea, would have turned their backs upon the challenger and
poured volleys on the friendly shore. The first is not extremely

credible, but merits examination. The story of the recovered gun
seems straightforward; it is supported by much testimony, the

diving operations on the reef seem to have been watched from shore
with curiosity; it is hard to suppose that it does not roughly

represent the fact. And yet if any part of it be true, the whole
of Becker's explanation falls to the ground. A boat which had

skirted the whole eastern coast of Mulinuu, and was already
opposite a wharf in Matafele, and still going west, might have been

guilty on a thousand points - there was one on which she was
necessarilyinnocent; she was necessarilyinnocent of proceeding on

Mulinuu. Or suppose the diving operations, and the native
testimony, and Pelly's chart of the boat's course, and the boat

itself, to be all stages of some epidemic hallucination or steps in
a conspiracy - suppose even a second TAUMUALUA to have entered Apia

bay after nightfall, and to have been fired upon from Grevsmuhl's
wharf in the full career of hostilities against Mulinuu - suppose

all this, and Becker is not helped. At the time of the first fire,
the boat was off Grevsmuhl's wharf. At the time of the second (and

that is the one complained of) she was off Carruthers's wharf in
Matautu. Was she still proceeding on Mulinuu? I trow not. The

danger to German property was no longer imminent, the shots had
been fired upon a very triflingprovocation, the spirit implied was

that of designed disregard to the neutrality. Such was the
impression here on the spot; such in plain terms the statement of

Count Hatzfeldt to Lord Salisbury at home: that the neutrality of
Apia was only "to prevent the natives from fighting," not the

Germans; and that whatever Becker might have promised at the
conference, he could not "restrict German war-vessels in their

freedom of action."
There was nothing to surprise in this discovery; and had events

been guided at the same time with a steady and discreet hand, it
might have passed with less observation. But the policy of Becker

was felt to be not only reckless, it was felt to be absurd also.
Sudden nocturnal onfalls upon native boats could lead, it was felt,

to no good end whether of peace or war; they could but exasperate;
they might prove, in a moment, and when least expected, ruinous.

To those who knew how nearly it had come to fighting, and who
considered the probable result, the future looked ominous. And

fear was mingled with annoyance in the minds of the Anglo-Saxon
colony. On the 24th, a public meeting appealed to the British and

American consuls. At half-past seven in the evening guards were
landed at the consulates. On the morrow they were each fortified

with sand-bags; and the subjects informed by proclamation that
these asylums stood open to them on any alarm, and at any hour of

the day or night. The social bond in Apia was dissolved. The
consuls, like barons of old, dwelt each in his armed citadel. The

rank and file of the white nationalities dared each other, and
sometimes fell to on the street like rival clansmen. And the

little town, not by any fault of the inhabitants, rather by the act
of Becker, had fallen back in civilisation about a thousand years.

There falls one more incident to be narrated, and then I can close
with this ungracious chapter. I have mentioned the name of the new

English consul. It is already familiar to English readers; for the
gentleman who was fated to undergo some strange experiences in Apia

was the same de Coetlogon who covered Hicks's flank at the time of
the disaster in the desert, and bade farewell to Gordon in Khartoum

before the investment. The colonel was abrupt and testy; Mrs. de
Coetlogon was too exclusive for society like that of Apia; but

whatever their superficial disabilities, it is strange they should
have left, in such an odour of unpopularity, a place where they set

so shining an example of the sterling virtues. The colonel was
perhaps no diplomatist; he was certainly no lawyer; but he

discharged the duties of his office with the constancy and courage
of an old soldier, and these were found sufficient. He and his

wife had no ambition to be the leaders of society; the consulate
was in their time no house of feasting; but they made of it that

house of mourning to which the preacher tells us it is better we
should go. At an early date after the battle of Matautu, it was

opened as a hospital for the wounded. The English and Americans
subscribed what was required for its support. Pelly of the LIZARD

strained every nerve to help, and set up tents on the lawn to be a
shelter for the patients. The doctors of the English and American

ships, and in particular Dr. Oakley of the LIZARD, showed
themselves indefatigable. But it was on the de Coetlogons that the

distress fell. For nearly half a year, their lawn, their verandah,
sometimes their rooms, were cumbered with the sick and dying, their

ears were filled with the complaints of sufferinghumanity, their
time was too short for the multiplicity of pitiful duties. In Mrs.

de Coetlogon, and her helper, Miss Taylor, the merit of this
endurance was perhaps to be looked for; in a man of the colonel's

temper, himself painfullysuffering, it was viewed with more
surprise, if with no more admiration. Doubtless all had their

reward in a sense of duty done; doubtless, also, as the days
passed, in the spectacle of many traits of gratitude and patience,

and in the success that waited on their efforts. Out of a hundred
cases treated, only five died. They were all well-behaved, though

full of childish wiles. One old gentleman, a high chief, was