so much he meant to carry out, and an armed party from the Adams was to have garrisoned on the morrow the scene of the atrocity.  But there is no doubt he managed to convey more.  No doubt he was a master in the art of loose speaking, and could always manage to be overheard when he wanted; and by this, or some other equally unofficial means, he spread the rumour that on the morrow he was to bombard.

The proposed post, from its position, and from Leary’s well-established character as an artist in mischief, must have been regarded by the Germans with uneasiness.  In the bombardment we can scarce suppose them to have believed.  But Tamasese must have both believed and trembled.  The prestige of the European Powers was still unbroken.  No native would then have dreamed of defying these colossal ships, worked by mysterious powers, and laden with outlandish instruments of death.  None would have dreamed of resisting those strange but quite unrealised Great Powers, understood (with difficulty) to be larger than Tonga and Samoa put together, and known to be prolific of prints, knives, hard biscuit, picture-books, and other luxuries, as well as of overbearing men and inconsistent orders.  Laupepa had fallen in ill-blood with one of them; his only idea of defence had been to throw himself in the arms of another; his name, his rank, and his great following had not been able to preserve him; and he had vanished from the eyes of men—­as the Samoan thinks of it, beyond the sky.  Asi, Maunga, Tuiletu-funga, had followed him in that new path of doom.  We have seen how carefully Mataafa still walked, how he dared not set foot on the neutral territory till assured it was no longer sacred, how he withdrew from it again as soon as its sacredness had been restored, and at the bare word of a consul (however gilded with ambiguous promises) paused in his course of victory and left his rival unassailed in Mulinuu.  And now it was the rival’s turn.  Hitherto happy in the continued support of one of the white Powers, he now found himself—­or thought himself—­threatened with war by no less than two others.

Tamasese boats as they passed Matautu were in the habit of firing on the shore, as like as not without particular aim, and more in high spirits than hostility.  One of these shots pierced the house of a British subject near the consulate; the consul reported to Admiral Fairfax; and, on the morning of the 10th, the admiral despatched Captain Kane of the Calliope to Mulinuu.  Brandeis met the messenger with voluble excuses and engagements for the future.  He was told his explanations were satisfactory so far as they went, but that the admiral’s message was to Tamasese, the de facto king.  Brandeis, not very well assured of his puppet’s courage, attempted in vain to excuse him from appearing.  No de facto king, no message, he was told:  produce your de facto king.  And Tamasese had at last to be produced.  To him Kane delivered