s, where I was well-known to the people, who always
made me and my boat's crew very welcome--for the Samoans are naturally a
most hospitable race, and love visiting and social intercourse. On these
excursions Marama (the native boatswain) and some other of the ship's
crew sometimes came with me; on other occasions my party would be made
up of the two half-caste sons of the American Consul, two or three
Samoans and myself.

Towards the end of November there arrived from Auckland (N.Z.)
the trading schooner _Dauntless_. She brought one passenger whose
acquaintance I soon made, and whom I will call Marchmont. He was a fine,
well-set-up young fellow of about five and twenty years of age, and I
was delighted to find that he was a good all-round sportsman--I could
never induce any of the white traders or merchants of Apia to join me in
any of my many delightful trips. Marchmont was making a tour through
the Pacific Islands, partly on business, and partly on pleasure. He
was visiting the various groups on behalf of a Liverpool firm, who were
buying up land suitable for cotton-growing, and was to spend two months
in Samoa.

He and I soon made arrangements for a series of fishing and shooting
trips along the south coast of Upolu, where the country was quiet,
and as yet undisturbed by the war. But, although Marchmont was a most
estimable and companionable man in many respects, he had some serious
defects in his character, which, from a sportsman's point of view, were
most objectionable, and were soon to bring him into trouble. One was
that he was most intensely self-opinionated, and angrily resented being
contradicted--even when he knew he was in the wrong; another was his bad
temper--whenever he did anything particularly foolish he would not stand
a little good-natured "chaff"--he either flew into a violent rage and
"said things" or sulked like a boy of ten years of age. Then, too,
another regrettable feature about him was the fact that he, being a
young man of wealth, had the idea that he should always be deferred
to, never argued with upon any subject, and his advice sought upon
everything pertaining to sport. These unpromising traits in his
character soon got him into hot water, and before he had been a week in
Samoa he was nicknamed by both whites and natives "Misi Ulu Poto--masani
mea uma,"--"Mr. Wise Head--the Man Who Knows Everything". The term
stuck--and Marchmont took it quite seriously, as a well-deserved
compliment