“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]]
[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.”