Kataafa and his chiefs withdrew. They smiled triumphantly. They believed all trouble had been lifted from their shoulders. This man, the count, had relieved them of all disagreeable consequences of their acts of violence. The men-of-war were undoubtedly afraid of him. So argued the chiefs of the rebel leader. Upon the announcement that the count was to be the adviser of Kataafa, the papalangi had carried their sailors back to their ships. Now, since the count was equal to the king or governor, maybe the war-ships would sail away “under the sea” and not return. The other war-ships that people said were coming would be afraid to let loose their thunder when they learned that this count and representative of a powerful papalangi king was at the head of the new government. With these quieting thoughts the stately chiefs filed out of the consulate and turned toward the king’s residence at Kulinuu. Count Rosen was not afraid of the consequences of his act. He gloried in the thought that his country was nearer a settlement of the Kapuan difficulty than she had ever been. Yet there were points in the proceedings which gave him considerable concern. The principal one was his knowledge that the American commander had discovered the source of the Kataafa guns and doubtless also suspected that the rebellion of the old warrior had been planned in order to create just the situation by which the Americans and English now found themselves confronted. If he only dared raise his country’s standard over the islands! The count reasoned that Kapua would be taken by the country whom the natives chose to govern them. Now he had the opportunity of showing them what good government really meant, and if he could succeed in winning the native confidence, his country would be the choice of the people. In the last war the natives, when maltreated and coerced by the Kapuan firm and the Herzovinian war-ships, appealed to England for annexation. England would have liked to grant the request, but her rival’s friendship at that time was needed more than were the Kapuan Islands; so no notice was paid by the British Cabinet to the pitiful cry from the far-away South Sea monarchy. “Klinger,” the count said seriously, “you must take charge of the native laborers. Repair all damage possible to foreign property and guarantee to all just compensation. I shall grant full amnesty to all the supporters of Panu-Mafili. Be careful,” he added severely. “Don’t antagonize the foreigners. Don’t grab too much, or we may lose all.” Within a week Ukula and the surrounding country was as peaceful as before the death of the old king Laupepe. New houses were going up on every hand, a sure sign of future peace in Kapua. By order of the count, who had taken charge of the government of the islands in fact as well as in fancy, guns could not be carried by the natives. The natives were encouraged to indulge in their Siva-Siva dances, at which the count made it his business to be present.