On the 22nd (day of the suppression of the Times) de Coetlogon wrote to inquire if hostilities were intended against Great Britain, which Knappe on the same day denied.  On the 23rd de Coetlogon sent a complaint of hostile acts, such as the armed and forcible entry of the Richmond before the declaration and arrest of Gallien.  In his reply, dated the 24th, Knappe took occasion to repeat, although now with more self-command, his former threat against de Coetlogon.  “I am still of the opinion,” he writes, “that even foreign consuls are liable to the application of martial law, if they are guilty of offences against the belligerent state.”  The same day (24th) de Coetlogon complained that Fletcher, manager for Messrs. MacArthur, had been summoned by Fritze.  In answer, Knappe had “the honour to inform your Excellency that since the declaration of the state of war, British subjects are liable to martial law, and Mr. Fletcher will be arrested if he does not appear.”  Here, then, was the gauntlet thrown down, and de Coetlogon was burning to accept it.  Fletcher’s offence was this.  Upon the 22nd a steamer had come in from Wellington, specially chartered to bring German despatches to Apia.  The rumour came along with her from New Zealand that in these despatches Knappe would find himself rebuked, and Fletcher was accused of having “interested himself in the spreading of this rumour.”  His arrest was actually ordered, when Hand succeeded in persuading him to surrender.  At the German court, the case was dismissed “wegen Nichtigkeit”; and the acute stage of these distempers may be said to have ended.  Blessed are the peacemakers.  Hand had perhaps averted a collision.  What is more certain, he had offered to the world a perfectly original reading of the part of British seaman.

Hand may have averted a collision, I say; but I am tempted to believe otherwise.  I am tempted to believe the threat to arrest Fletcher was the last mutter of the declining tempest and a mere sop to Knappe’s self-respect.  I am tempted to believe the rumour in question was substantially correct, and the steamer from Wellington had really brought the German consul grounds for hesitation, if not orders to retreat.  I believe the unhappy man to have awakened from a dream, and to have read ominous writing on the wall.  An enthusiastic popularity surrounded him among the Germans.  It was natural.  Consul and colony had passed through an hour of serious peril, and the consul had set the example of undaunted courage.  He was entertained at dinner.  Fritze, who was known to have secretly opposed him, was scorned and avoided.  But the clerks of the German firm were one thing, Prince Bismarck was another; and on a cold review of these events, it is not improbable that Knappe may have envied the position of his naval colleague.  It is certain, at least, that he set himself to shuffle and capitulate; and when the blow fell, he was able