In the early dawn of 30th August the first glimpse was obtained of Upolu—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, stared at them as a reminder of that memorable event.
The Psyche went on ahead, and after the harbour had been swept for mines, she steamed in under a flag of truce and delivered a message from Rear-Admiral Sir George Patey demanding surrender. The Germans, who had been expecting their own fleet in, were surprised at the suddenness with which an overwhelming force had descended upon them, and decided to offer no resistance to a landing.
In a remarkably brief space of time the covering party was on shore, and shortly afterwards Apia was swarming with British bluejackets and troops. Guards were placed all about the Government buildings and a staff installed in the Government offices.
The custom-house was seized and an armed party was dispatched along a bush road to seize the wireless station, the tall, latticed iron mast of which could be seen rising above the trees some three or four miles inland on the lower slopes of the hills.
Meantime the German flag that had flown over the island for fourteen years was hauled down, the Germans present doffing their hats and standing bareheaded and silent on the veranda of the Supreme Court as they watched the soldier in khaki from New Zealand unceremoniously pulling it down, detaching it from the rope, and carrying it inside the building.
Next morning the British flag was hoisted with all due ceremony. The troops were drawn up in three sides of a square facing the court-house—the seat of the new Government. Inside the square and facing the flagstaff were Colonel Logan and staff in their rough khaki uniforms, with them the naval Commanders. On the left the high Samoan Chiefs, Tanu-Malietoa and Tamasese—who had been specially invited to attend the ceremony—with other Chiefs made a picturesque group.
Fifteen years ago some of those present had seen the young Chief Tanu placed on the throne of Malietoa, with the representatives of the allied fleets of Great Britain and America and the civil authorities of these natives in attendance, and the Germans conspicuous only by their absence.
A few minutes before 8 o'clock all was ready. The commands to the troops had ceased and an intense silence had prevailed. Two bluejackets and a naval lieutenant stood, with the flag, awaiting the signal.
Presently the first gun of the Royal salute from the Psyche boomed out across the bay. Then slowly, very slowly, inch by inch, to the booming of twenty-one guns the flag was hoisted, the officers with drawn swords silently watching it go up.