resort to arms, and drive the invaders from their shores; but
more pacific and feebler counsels ultimately prevailed. The
unfortunate queen Pomare, incapable of averting the impending
calamity, terrified at the arrogance of the insolent Frenchman,
and driven at last to despair, fled by night in a canoe to Emio.

During the continuance of the panic there occurred an instance of
feminine heroism that I cannot omit to record.

In the grounds of the famous missionary consul, Pritchard, then
absent in London, the consular flag of Britain waved as usual
during the day, from a lofty staff planted within a few yards of
the beach, and in full view of the frigate. One morning an
officer, at the head of a party of men, presented himself at the
verandah of Mr Pritchard's house, and inquired in broken English
for the lady his wife. The matron soon made her appearance; and
the polite Frenchman, making one of his best bows, and playing
gracefully with the aiguillettes that danced upon his breast,
proceeded in courteous accents to deliver his mission. 'The
admiral desired the flag to be hauled down--hoped it would be
perfectly agreeable--and his men stood ready to perform the
duty.' 'Tell the Pirate your master,' replied the spirited
Englishwoman, pointing to the staff, 'that if he wishes to strike
these colours, he must come and perform the act himself; I will
suffer no one else to do it.' The lady then bowed haughtily and
withdrew into the house. As the discomfited officer slowly
walked away, he looked up to the flag, and perceived that the
cord by which it was elevated to its place, led from the top of
the staff, across the lawn, to an open upper window of the
mansion, where sat the lady from whom he had just parted,