reaching Suva, he found to be useless.
He was therefore left without means to coal and reprovision. As he was
not allowed to land at Samoa, he went on to Pago-Pago, in complete
ignorance that war had been declared, and, not being able to get
supplies there, left for Suva. At the latter port the harbor lights
being extinguished, he ran his vessel on to the reef in the night time.
Rockets were sent up, but no assistance could be given from the shore.
Fortunately, however, he got off as the tide made; but it was a narrow
call.

In the early dawn of Aug. 30 we got our first glimpse of German Samoa.
The American island of Tutuila was out of sight, away to the right, but
presently we rounded the southeastern corner of the island of Upolu,
with its beautiful wooded hills wreathing their summits in the morning
mists, and saw the white line of surf breaking along its coral
reef--historic Upolu, the home of Robert Louis Stevenson, the scene of
wars and rebellions and international schemings, and the scene also of
that devastating hurricane which wrecked six ships of war and ten other
vessels, and sent 142 officers and men of the German and American Navies
to their last sleep. The rusting ribs and plates of the Adler, the
German flagship, pitched high inside the reef, still stare at us as a
reminder of that memorable event.

The Psyche went boldly on ahead, and after the harbor had been swept for
mines she steamed in, under a flag of truce, and delivered a message
from Admiral Patey, demanding the surrender of Apia. The Germans, who
had been expecting their own fleet in, were surprised with the
suddenness with which an overwhelming force had descended upon them, and
decided to offer no resistance to a landing. Capt. Marshall promptly
made a signal to the troopships to steam to their anchorages; motor
launches, motor surfboats, and ships' boats were launched, and the men
began to pour over the ships' sides and down the rope ladders into the
boats.

In a remarkably brief space of time the covering party was on shore,
officers and men dashing out of the boats, up to the knees, and
sometimes the waist, in water. The main street, the cross-roads, and the
bridges were quickly in possession of our men, with their Maxims and
rifles, and then, one after another, the motor boats and launches began
to tow strings of boats, crammed with the men of the main body, toward
the shore. The bluejackets of the beach party, who had already landed,