During a great part of the day the work of rescue was continued, with many instances of courage and devotion; and for a long time succeeding, the almost inexhaustible harvest of the beach was to be reaped.  In the first employment, the Samoans earned the gratitude of friend and foe; in the second, they surprised all by an unexpected virtue, that of honesty.  The greatness of the disaster, and the magnitude of the treasure now rolling at their feet, may perhaps have roused in their bosoms an emotion too serious for the rule of greed, or perhaps that greed was for the moment satiated.  Sails that twelve strong Samoans could scarce drag from the water, great guns (one of which was rolled by the sea on the body of a man, the only native slain in all the hurricane), an infinite wealth of rope and wood, of tools and weapons, tossed upon the beach.  Yet I have never heard that much was stolen; and beyond question, much was very honestly returned.  On both accounts, for the saving of life and the restoration of property, the government of the United States showed themselves generous in reward.  A fine boat was fitly presented to Seumanu; and rings, watches, and money were lavished on all who had assisted.  The Germans also gave money at the rate (as I receive the tale) of three dollars a head for every German saved.  The obligation was in this instance incommensurably deep, those with whom they were at war had saved the German blue-jackets at the venture of their lives; Knappe was, besides, far from ungenerous; and I can only explain the niggard figure by supposing it was paid from his own pocket.  In one case, at least, it was refused.  “I have saved three Germans,” said the rescuer; “I will make you a present of the three.”

The crews of the American and German squadrons were now cast, still in a bellicose temper, together on the beach.  The discipline of the Americans was notoriously loose; the crew of the Nipsic had earned a character for lawlessness in other ports; and recourse was had to stringent and indeed extraordinary measures.  The town was divided in two camps, to which the different nationalities were confined.  Kimberley had his quarter sentinelled and patrolled.  Any seaman disregarding a challenge was to be shot dead; any tavern-keeper who sold spirits to an American sailor was to have his tavern broken and his stock destroyed.  Many of the publicans were German; and Knappe, having narrated these rigorous but necessary dispositions, wonders (grinning to himself over his despatch) how far these Americans will go in their assumption of jurisdiction over Germans.  Such as they were, the measures were successful.  The incongruous mass of castaways was kept in peace, and at last shipped in peace out of the islands.