On the morning of Aug. 2 we proceeded along the shores of New Caledonia and saw the big French cruiser Montcalm entering the harbor.  Next day we were joined by the battle cruiser Australia and the light cruiser Melbourne.  The contingent received an enthusiastic reception in New Caledonia.  As we passed the Montcalm our band played the “Marseillaise,” and the band on the French cruiser responded with our national anthem.  Cheers from the thousands of men afloat and the singing of patriotic songs added to the general enthusiasm, the French residents being greatly excited with the sudden and unexpected appearance of their allies from New Zealand.

A delay of twenty-four hours was caused by one of the troopships grounding on a sand bank in the harbor, but on Sunday, Aug. 23, the expedition got safely away.

We steamed through the Havannah Pass, at the southeastern end of the island, where we awaited Rear Admiral Sir George Patey, in command of the allied fleets.  In due course the Australia and the Melbourne came up with us.  Then in turn waited for the Montcalm.  All the ships, eight in number, were now assembled, and they moved off in the evening light to take up position in the line ahead.

Fiji was reached in due course, and at anchor in the harbor of Suva we found the Japanese collier Fukoku Maru, and learned that she had been coaling the German cruisers at the Caroline Islands just before the declaration of war.  After the coaling had been completed the Japanese Captain went on to Samoa, calling at Apia.  The Germans, however, would not allow him to land.  The Japanese Captain had been paid for his coal by drafts on Germany, which, on reaching Suva, he found to be useless.  He was therefore left without means to coal and reprovision.  As he was not allowed to land at Samoa, he went on to Pago-Pago, in complete ignorance that war had been declared, and, not being able to get supplies there, left for Suva.  At the latter port the harbor lights being extinguished, he ran his vessel on to the reef in the night time.  Rockets were sent up, but no assistance could be given from the shore.  Fortunately, however, he got off as the tide made; but it was a narrow call.

In the early dawn of Aug. 30 we got our first glimpse of German Samoa.  The American island of Tutuila was out of sight, away to the right, but presently we rounded the southeastern corner of the island of Upolu, with its beautiful wooded hills wreathing their summits in the morning mists, and saw the white line of surf breaking along its coral reef—­historic Upolu, the home of Robert Louis Stevenson, the scene of wars and rebellions and international schemings, and the scene also of that devastating hurricane which wrecked six ships of war and ten other vessels, and sent 142 officers and men of the German and American Navies to their last sleep.  The rusting ribs and plates of the Adler, the German flagship, pitched high inside the reef, still stare at us as a reminder of that memorable event.