flame forth again.  And this is the more singular because some were far from out of sympathy with the native policy pursued.  When I met Captain Brandeis, he was amazed at my attitude.  “Whom did you find in Apia to tell you so much good of me?” he asked.  I named one of my informants.  “He?” he cried.  “If he thought all that, why did he not help me?” I told him as well as I was able.  The man was a merchant.  He beheld in the government of Brandeis a government created by and for the firm who were his rivals.  If Brandeis were minded to deal fairly, where was the probability that he would be allowed?  If Brandeis insisted and were strong enough to prevail, what guarantee that, as soon as the government were fairly accepted, Brandeis might not be removed?  Here was the attitude of the hour; and I am glad to find it clearly set forth in a despatch of Sewall’s, June 18th, 1888, when he commends the law against mortgages, and goes on:  “Whether the author of this law will carry out the good intentions which he professes—­whether he will be allowed to do so, if he desires, against the opposition of those who placed him in power and protect him in the possession of it—­may well be doubted.”  Brandeis had come to Apia in the firm’s livery.  Even while he promised neutrality in commerce, the clerks were prating a different story in the bar-rooms; and the late high feat of the knight-errant, Becker, had killed all confidence in Germans at the root.  By these three impolicies, the German adventure in Samoa was defeated.

I imply that the handful of whites were the true obstacle, not the thousands of malcontent Samoans; for had the whites frankly accepted Brandeis, the path of Germany was clear, and the end of their policy, however troublesome might be its course, was obvious.  But this is not to say that the natives were content.  In a sense, indeed, their opposition was continuous.  There will always be opposition in Samoa when taxes are imposed; and the deportation of Malietoa stuck in men’s throats.  Tuiatua Mataafa refused to act under the new government from the beginning, and Tamasese usurped his place and title.  As early as February, I find him signing himself “Tuiaana Tuiatua Tamasese,” the first step on a dangerous path.  Asi, like Mataafa, disclaimed his chiefship and declared himself a private person; but he was more rudely dealt with.  German sailors surrounded his house in the night, burst in, and dragged the women out of the mosquito nets—­an offence against Samoan manners.  No Asi was to be found; but at last they were shown his fishing-lights on the reef, rowed out, took him as he was, and carried him on board a man-of-war, where he was detained some while between-decks.  At last, January 16th, after a farewell interview over the ship’s side with his wife, he was discharged into a ketch, and along with two other chiefs, Maunga and Tuiletu-funga, deported to the Marshalls.  The blow struck fear upon all sides.  Le Mamea (a very able chief)