I am tempted to believe the threat to arrest Fletcher was the
last mutter of the declining tempest and a mere sop to Knappe's
self-respect. I am tempted to believe the rumour in question was
substantially correct, and the steamer from Wellington had really brought
the German consul grounds for hesitation, if not orders to retreat. I
believe the unhappy man to have awakened from a dream, and to have read
ominous writing on the wall. An enthusiastic popularity surrounded him
among the Germans. It was natural. Consul and colony had passed through
an hour of serious peril, and the consul had set the example of undaunted
courage. He was entertained at dinner. Fritze, who was known to have
secretly opposed him, was scorned and avoided. But the clerks of the
German firm were one thing, Prince Bismarck was another; and on a cold
review of these events, it is not improbable that Knappe may have envied
the position of his naval colleague. It is certain, at least, that he
set himself to shuffle and capitulate; and when the blow fell, he was
able to reply that the martial law business had in the meanwhile come
right; that the English and American consular courts stood open for
ordinary cases and that in different conversations with Captain Hand,
"who has always maintained friendly intercourse with the German
authorities," it had been repeatedly explained that only the supply of
weapons and ammunition, or similar aid and support, was to come under
German martial law.
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