Brandeis, expecting attack, sought to improve his indefensible position.  He reformed his centre by the simple expedient of suppressing it.  Apia was evacuated.  The two flanks, Mulinuu and Matautu, were still held and fortified, Mulinuu (as I have said) to the isthmus, Matautu on a line from the bayside to the little river Fuisa.  The centre was represented by the trajectory of a boat across the bay from one flank to another, and was held (we may say) by the German war-ship.  Mataafa decided (I am assured) to make a feint on Matautu, induce Brandeis to deplete Mulinuu in support, and then fall upon and carry that.  And there is no doubt in my mind that such a plan was bruited abroad, for nothing but a belief in it could explain the behaviour of Brandeis on the 12th.  That it was seriously entertained by Mataafa I stoutly disbelieve; the German flag and sailors forbidding the enterprise in Mulinuu.  So that we may call this false intelligence the beginning and the end of Mataafa’s strategy.

The whites who sympathised with the revolt were uneasy and impatient.  They will still tell you, though the dates are there to show them wrong, that Mataafa, even after his coronation, delayed extremely:  a proof of how long two days may seem to last when men anticipate events.  On the evening of the 11th, while the new king was already on the march, one of these walked into Matautu.  The moon was bright.  By the way he observed the native houses dark and silent; the men had been about a fortnight in the bush, but now the women and children were gone also; at which he wondered.  On the sea-beach, in the camp of the Tamaseses, the solitude was near as great; he saw three or four men smoking before the British consulate, perhaps a dozen in all; the rest were behind in the bush upon their line of forts.  About the midst he sat down, and here a woman drew near to him.  The moon shone in her face, and he knew her for a householder near by, and a partisan of Mataafa’s.  She looked about her as she came, and asked him, trembling, what he did in the camp of Tamasese.  He was there after news, he told her.  She took him by the hand.  “You must not stay here, you will get killed,” she said.  “The bush is full of our people, the others are watching them, fighting may begin at any moment, and we are both here too long.”  So they set off together; and she told him by the way that she had came to the hostile camp with a present of bananas, so that the Tamasese men might spare her house.  By the Vaisingano they met an old man, a woman, and a child; and these also she warned and turned back.  Such is the strange part played by women among the scenes of Samoan warfare, such were the liberties then permitted to the whites, that these two could pass the lines, talk together in Tamasese’s camp on the eve of an engagement, and pass forth again bearing intelligence, like privileged spies.  And before a few hours the white man was in direct communication with the opposing general.  The