its hands, all the world over.

In the opinion of some, then, the town had narrowly escaped destruction,
or at least the miseries of a drunken sack. To the knowledge of all, the
air of the neutral territory had once more whistled with bullets. And it
was clear the incident must have diplomatic consequences. Leary and
Pelly both protested to Fritze. Leary announced he should report the
affair to his government "as a gross violation of the principles of
international law, and as a breach of the neutrality." "I positively
decline the protest," replied Fritze, "and cannot fail to express my
astonishment at the tone of your last letter." This was trenchant. It
may be said, however, that Leary was already out of court; that, after
the night signals and the Scanlon incident, and so many other acts of
practical if humorous hostility, his position as a neutral was no better
than a doubtful jest. The case with Pelly was entirely different; and
with Pelly, Fritze was less well inspired. In his first note, he was on
the old guard; announced that he had acted on the requisition of his
consul, who was alone responsible on "the legal side"; and declined
accordingly to discuss "whether the lives of British subjects were in
danger, and to what extent armed intervention was necessary." Pelly
replied judiciously that he had nothing to do with political matters,
being only responsible for the safety of Her Majesty's ships under his
command and for the lives and property of British subjects; that he had
considered his protest a purely naval one; and as the matter stood could
only report the case to the admiral on the station. "I have the honour,"
replied Fritze, "to refuse to entertain the protest concerning the safety
of Her Britannic Majesty's ship _Lizard_ as being a naval matter. The
safety of Her Majesty's ship _Lizard_ was never in the least endangered.
This was guaranteed by the disciplined fire of a few shots under the
direction of two officers." This offensive note, in view of Fritze's