Thenceforward, all day and most of the next night, volley followed volley; and pounds of lead and pounds sterling of money continued to be blown into the air without cessation and almost without result.  Colonel de Coetlogon, an old soldier, described the noise as deafening.  The harbour was all struck with shots; a man was knocked over on the German war-ship; half Apia was under fire; and a house was pierced beyond the Mulivai.  All along the two lines of breastwork, the entrenched enemies exchanged this hail of balls; and away on the east of the battle the fusillade was maintained, with equal spirit, across the narrow barrier of the Fuisa.  The whole rear of the Tamaseses was enfiladed by this flank fire; and I have seen a house there, by the river brink, that was riddled with bullets like a piece of worm-eaten wreck-wood.  At this point of the field befell a trait of Samoan warfare worth recording.  Taiese (brother to Siteoni already mentioned) shot a Tamasese man.  He saw him fall, and, inflamed with the lust of glory, passed the river single-handed in that storm of missiles to secure the head.  On the farther bank, as was but natural, he fell himself; he who had gone to take a trophy remained to afford one; and the Mataafas, who had looked on exulting in the prospect of a triumph, saw themselves exposed instead to a disgrace.  Then rose one Vingi, passed the deadly water, swung the body of Taiese on his back, and returned unscathed to his own side, the head saved, the corpse filled with useless bullets.

At this rate of practice, the ammunition soon began to run low, and from an early hour of the afternoon, the Malietoa stores were visited by customers in search of more.  An elderly man came leaping and cheering, his gun in one hand, a basket of three heads in the other.  A fellow came shot through the forearm.  “It doesn’t hurt now,” he said, as he bought his cartridges; “but it will hurt to-morrow, and I want to fight while I can.”  A third followed, a mere boy, with the end of his nose shot off:  “Have you any painkiller? give it me quick, so that I can get back to fight.”  On either side, there was the same delight in sound and smoke and schoolboy cheering, the same unsophisticated ardour of battle; and the misdirected skirmish proceeded with a din, and was illustrated with traits of bravery that would have fitted a Waterloo or a Sedan.

I have said how little I regard the alleged plan of battle.  At least it was now all gone to water.  The whole forces of Mataafa had leaked out, man by man, village by village, on the so-called false attack.  They were all pounding for their lives on the front and the left flank of Matautu.  About half-past three they enveloped the right flank also.  The defenders were driven back along the beach road as far as the pilot station at the turn of the land.  From this also they were dislodged, stubbornly fighting.  One, it is told, retreated to his middle in the lagoon;