settlement they intended to attack. They took a circuitous course in
the bush, surrounded the village from behind, having previously
arranged to let the canoes slip on quietly, and take up their position
in the water in front of the village. By break of day they rushed into
the houses of the unsuspecting people before they had well woke up,
chopped off as many heads as they could, rushed with them to their
canoes, and decamped before the young men of the place had time to
muster or arm. Often they were scared by the people, who, during war,
kept a watch, night and day, at all the principal openings in the
reef; but now and then the plot succeeded and there was fearful
slaughter. It was in one of these early morning attacks from the fleet
that the young man to whom I have referred had such a narrow escape.
That morning many were wounded, and the heads of thirteen carried off.
One of them was that of a poor old man, who was on his knees at his
morning devotions, when off went his head at a blow. In another house
that same morning there was a noble instance of maternal heroism, in a
woman who allowed herself to be hacked from head to foot, bending over
her son to save his life. It is considered cowardly to kill a woman,
or they would have despatched her at once. It was the head of her
little boy they wanted, but they did not get it. The poor woman was in
a dreadful state, but, to the surprise of all, recovered.

It is now close upon a hundred years since the Samoans had their first
serious quarrel with Europeans, and which ended in a fight. I refer to
the massacre at Tutuila of M. de Langle and others belonging to the
expedition under the unfortunate La Perouse in 1787, and which branded
the people for well-nigh fifty years as a race of treacherous savages
whose shores ought not to be approached. Had the native version of the
tale been known, it would have considerably modified the accounts
which were published in the voyages of La Perouse. The origin of the