be punished, and
my family as well. This, and the rudeness of the man at the ford of the
Gase-gase, looks but ill; I should have said that Faamuina, as he
approached the first ford, was spoken to by a girl, and immediately said
good-bye and plunged into the bush; the girl had told him there was a
war party out from Mulinuu; and a little further on, as we stopped to
sketch a flag of truce, the beating of drums and the sound of a bugle
from that direction startled us. But we saw nothing, and I believe
Mulinuu is (at least at present) incapable of any act of offence. One
good job, these threats to my home and family take away all my childish
temptation to go out and fight. Our force must be here, to protect
ourselves. I see panic rising among the whites; I hear the shrill note
of it in their voices, and they talk already about a refuge on the war
ships. There are two here, both German; and the _Orlando_ is expected
presently.

_Sunday, 9th July._--Well, the war has at last begun. For four or five
days, Apia has been filled by these poor children with their faces
blacked, and the red handkerchief about their brows, that makes the
Malietoa uniform, and the boats have been coming in from the windward,
some of them 50 strong, with a drum and a bugle on board--the bugle
always ill-played--and a sort of jester leaping and capering on the
sparred nose of the boat, and the whole crew uttering from time to time
a kind of menacing ululation. Friday they marched out to the bush; and
yesterday morning we heard that some had returned to their houses for
the night, as they found it "so uncomfortable." After dinner a messenger
came up to me with a note, that the wounded were arriving at the Mission
House. Fanny, Lloyd and I saddled and rode off with a lantern; it was a
fine starry night, though pretty cold. We left the lantern at
Tanugamanono, and then down in the starlight. I found Apia, and myself,
in a strange state of flusteration; my own excitement was gloomy and (I
may say) truculent; others appeared imbecile; some sullen. The best
place in the whole town was the hospital. A longish frame-house it was,
with a big table in the middle for operations, and ten Samoans, each
with an average of four sympathisers, stretched along the walls. Clarke
was there, steady as a die; Miss Large, little spectacled angel, showed
herself a real trump; the nice, clean, German orderlies in their white
uniforms looked and meant business. (I hear a fine