Louis, happening to glance toward the end of San Lorenzo soon after this transformation was wrought, seized Carl’s arm and gave a yell as he pointed in the direction where ships round the headland to enter port. “Look! Look!” he said.
Carl did so, then gasped, “The Chileans!”
“Yes, the Chileans! The blockading fleet! One, two, three, four, five ships!”
“Great Scott! I believe it is! Our little _Huascar_, with the lone star flag at her gaff! Isn’t that terrible!”
“And there’s the _Pilcomayo_ too. Think of it. The gunboat that Captain Matajente once commanded; and now he is perhaps asleep in our guest room. We must tell him and also tell father.”
“Wait a minute, Carl. That’s one of the big ironclads, I guess; that one to the right of the _Huascar_, Wonder whether it’s the _Blanco_ or the _Cochrane_?”
“I don’t suppose anybody can tell at this distance. They are sister ships, you know, and I heard father say they differed only in their superstructure. Whichever she is, she is the flagship, for I can make out the admiral’s pennant at the fore truck. And look, a steam launch is putting off from her side and making for shore! Perhaps they are sending notice of a bombardment!”
The boys then hurriedly left the end of the veranda and ran into the little parlor, then into the first bedroom, where they found Captain Saunders shaving. Both were too excited to say anything for a full minute, and the American, somewhat vexed at the intrusion, exclaimed:—
“Carl, you should not bring your friend in here, for I am not yet dressed.”
“But father—the Chileans—the Chileans—are—in the offing.”
“The Chileans! Who said so? It must be a bola!”[2]
Many false rumors and many grossly exaggerated reports were current up and down the coast during the Chile-Peruvian war, and these were designated by the term “bola.”
“But it’s not a bola, father. We have seen them ourselves. There are five ships—one of the big ironclads, the _Huascar_, the _Pilcomayo_, and two other vessels; all are steaming up and down.”
Captain Saunders placed the razor on the dresser, hurriedly washed his face, and went with the boys to the point from where they had viewed the fleet. They had no more than reached the end of the veranda than they heard the pattering of bare feet on the wood floor, and turning, saw General Matajente running toward them, exclaiming at the top of his voice: “What’s that I heard? The Chileños? Did any one say the Chileños were in sight?”