o the wounded.

This young man, Tolu, told me, before joining in the assault, that he
had a brother, a cousin, and an uncle in the enemy's trenches, and that
he trusted he should not meet any one of them, for he feared that he
might turn _pala'ai_ (coward) and not "do his duty". He was a Roman
Catholic, and had been educated by the Marist Brothers, but all his
relatives, with the exception of one sister, were Protestants--members
of the Church established by the London Missionary Society.

An American trader named Parter and I watched the assault, and saw the
place carried by the rebels, and went in after them. Among the dead was
Tolu, and we were told that he had shot himself in grief at having cut
down his brother, whom he did not recognise.

Now as to my own weird experience.

There had been severe fighting in the Fagaloa district of the Island of
Upolu, and many villages were in flames when I left the Port of Tiavea
in my boat for Fagaloa Bay, a few miles along the shore. I was then
engaged in making a trip along the north coast, visiting almost every
village, and making arrangements for the purchase of the coming crop
of copra (dried coco-nut). I was everywhere well received by both
Malietoa's people and the rebels, but did but little business. The
natives were too occupied in fighting to devote much time to husking and
drying coco-nuts, except when they wanted to get money to buy arms and
ammunition.

My boat's crew consisted of four natives of Savage Island (Niue),
many of whom are settled in Samoa, where they have ample employment
as boatmen and seamen. They did not at all relish the sound of bullets
whizzing over the boat, as we sometimes could not help crossing the line
of fire, and they had a horror of travelling at night-time, imploring me
not to run the risk of being slaughtered by a volley from the shore--as
how could the natives know in the darkness that we were not enemies.

Fagaloa Bay is deep, narrow and very beautiful. Small villages a few
miles apart may be seen standing in the midst of groves of coco-nut
palms, and orange, banana and bread-fruit trees, and everywhere bright
mountain streams of crystal water debouch into the lovely bay.

On Sunday afternoon I sailed into the bay and landed at the village of
Samamea on the east side, intending to remain for the night We found the
people plunged in grief--a party of rebels had surprised a village two
miles inland, and ruthlessly slaughtered all